His Ranch or Hers

by Roz Denny Fox

  Seth cleared his throat. “I’m not a good person to give advice in the love game, Zeke. Women always see me as a rolling stone.”

  “We’re something, huh? My travelin’ days are over. I love it here. This is exactly where I see myself living for the next forty or fifty years.”

  Myra’s bedroom door opened and she sped past where he stood talking to Seth. He wondered how much of his conversation she’d heard. Should he hope she caught the last part? Everyone around knew how deeply she loved the ranch, but he doubted she had any idea he’d developed the same care for the place. What he hesitated to tell her was how big a part she played in what he liked about work and life here.

  “Hey, Seth, I need to get back to painting. I’ll give you a holler after we open our gifts, okay? If you’re not off surfing, that is. Make your reservations and I’ll tell Myra you’re coming.”

  * * *

  IN THE KITCHEN, Myra picked up Orion and hugged him close. She guessed it was fortuitous she’d come out when she did. Her mother used to say eavesdroppers always got their ears full. But Zeke hadn’t exactly been trying to cloak what he was saying to his twin. All her wishful thinking that he’d quit and sell her the ranch was dashed for good. She felt calmer on the outside than on the inside, she knew as she went to the fridge for Orion’s lettuce.

  Instead of clinging to hope, she should’ve left the day her dad informed her they’d given the Flying Owl to Eric’s savior. Now her affection for the ranch was all mixed up with her confusing affection for Zeke.

  She only had a few months left to get through. Hard, though, when she wished for more than Zeke meant by that casual kiss he’d brushed across her forehead right as his brother called. Considering his comment to Seth about the ranch being his forever home, Zeke probably couldn’t wait for spring calving to pass so she’d leave the place totally to him.

  She sighed and set Orion down to eat his lettuce.

  Chapter Eleven

  Christmas morning brought the heaviest snowfall yet. Myra had managed to get into town Christmas Eve to attend a candlelight service. Zeke had declined to go. When she left the church, it was bitterly cold and the sky was thick with clouds. No one expected it to snow another two feet during the night, though.

  “Jeez,” Zeke exclaimed in the morning when they stepped out to go feed the cows. “Merry Christmas...not! Do you think we can get to the barn and on out to the pens?” He waded through snow up to his waist, breaking trail for Myra.

  “Luckily the plow is still on the tractor. After we load the hay, if you plow a track, I’ll toss bunches over the fence. I think the worst of the storm has passed. At least there are far fewer clouds than when I drove home last night.”

  “How was the service? I probably should have gone, but I promised my folks a group call with Seth, and we’re all in different time zones.”

  “Did you open your gifts last night?”

  “The ones from them. I didn’t open the one from you.”

  “I saw you’d put two under the tree for me,” she said. “You shouldn’t have when I only bought you one thing. Eric gave me earmuffs. My folks sent a check they designated for an online class to renew my teaching credentials.” She wrinkled her nose.

  At the barn, Zeke unlocked the door and pulled it back. “Eric said something about your certificate being out of date. But once you said you’d rather work on a ranch than teach. Did you change your mind?”

  Myra hooked the trailer on the back of the tractor and began loading bales. “I feel like my life is in flux.”

  Zeke found the long-handled hook and pulled down bales from the next tall stack. Then he and Myra fell silent while they filled the trailer.

  The feeding process took much longer than normal due to the deep snow. They’d returned the equipment to the barn when Zeke said, “Will all of the heifers make it to springtime to have their babies? A half dozen or so look ready to pop now.”

  “Hey, you’re paying attention. We’ll need to watch closely during January. None should drop calves until February. We count back to when I put the bull in the heifers’ pasture.”

  Zeke’s grin was sheepish. “I’ll jot that down in my notebook. I wondered how you were so sure calves arrive at a predetermined period.”

  They stomped the snow off their boots and entered the warm house. “Sometimes I suspect a bull gets randy through the fence. I’ve had a couple of mid-January calves.”

  “You talk so matter-of-factly about the birthing stuff. Dave Ralston offered some insight into how messy it can be. He said his wife and his daughter-in-law both help with their calving. I guess it surprises me that women, uh, get so involved.”

  Removing two mugs from the cupboard and filling them with hot coffee, Myra also dispatched an eye-roll. “Calves are the lifeblood on a ranch. So Ma, Pa, grandparents and kids help make sure they get a safe start. As for women being involved, who do you think birth children?”

  Zeke accepted his mug. “Women, of course. But does seeing the process so up close and personal year after year dampen a woman’s enthusiasm to have babies?”

  “Not that I’ve seen. Birth is actually rather amazing, Zeke.” Myra put a premade pan of cinnamon rolls in the toaster oven and turned it on.

  “So, you want kids?” he asked casually.

  “Sure, but I have to find a husband first,” she responded drily as she checked the rolls.

  “Are you hunting?” Zeke set out plates and forks.

  “What kind of question is that? Are you hunting for a wife?” She pulled on oven mitts, removed the steaming pan and smacked it down on the table atop a hot pad.

  “Well, yeah,” he admitted, eyeing her as he sat down.

  “Silly me, I should’ve known,” she muttered, picturing him laughing with Jewell. “Hold out your plate,” she ordered, slipping a spatula under a big roll. Her remark or maybe her testy tone effectively ended what she judged a pointless conversation.

  But as she nibbled at her roll, Myra wondered if Jewell knew Zeke was that serious. At the candlelight service Jewell had only talked about the snowy owls.

  “Wanna go open presents?” Zeke asked after they finished eating.

  “Sure. But I wish you hadn’t bought me two gifts. I didn’t get you anything elaborate,” she said, clearly fretting.

  “Are you always such a worrywart?” Bending, Zeke plugged in the tree lights.

  “I never considered myself a worrier. Everyone thinks I’m practical. For sure you’re into the commercial aspects of Christmas. You bought more lights.”

  “Maybe it comes from spending so many years on military bases, missing home at the holidays.”

  “I never thought of that. Sorry... I didn’t even plan a traditional meal.”

  “It’s okay,” Zeke said, handing her a package. “Maybe next year.”

  Knowing she wouldn’t be here next year made this exchange of gifts more awkward. “Here, open yours, too.” She passed him a gaily wrapped box, realizing he must have wrapped the one he’d handed her. It wasn’t in a box, so she could tell immediately it was a picture frame. She tore open the overly taped paper, expecting to see a snowy owl the way Zeke had planned to send his mother. The picture in the lovely frame brought instant tears to her eyes. It was a snapshot of her in her grandfather’s chair. She’d fallen asleep while working on a dollhouse. Orion dozed in the crook of her arm. His pink ears touched her chin.

  “Why are you crying?” Zeke asked, leaning over to frown at the item. “I thought it came out good.”

  “It’s wonderful,” she blubbered, hugging it to her breast.

  Zeke smiled and lightly brushed her tears away. Sitting back, he opened his gift. “Hey, this belt is great. I saw them in Tawana’s booth and intended to buy one when I went back for Seth’s vest. She’d sold all the belts. Thanks.” He leaned in again and kissed her cheek. “You have one more gift,” he said, setting a soft package in her lap.

  Flustered by the intimacy of the moment, Myra quickly ripped int
o it, figuring to find gloves. Once again Zeke had shocked her. “Ooh, you got Orion a new cape.”

  “I had Jewell knit it to replace the one the owl made off with. I tried to explain what I wanted when I went over to her booth. This one’s woven tighter and closes with Velcro to make it easier to remove if another owl grabs Orion.” Zeke gazed expectantly at Myra.

  His easy mention of Jewell combined with all the thought he’d put into these gifts left Myra weepy. She burst into tears and didn’t want Zeke to console her.

  “Myra, honey, what’s wrong? Do you hate it? I don’t understand.”

  Getting up, she held the gifts close. “They’re too perfect. I...I need to be alone.” And she fled to her bedroom, where she sobbed out her sorrow. She wouldn’t take Orion out to the fields for another alfalfa harvest, because they’d be gone. Where, she had no idea. The truth of it was that Zeke didn’t need her. He had Jewell. The warm way he spoke of her help with the gift drove Myra’s pain deeper.

  But once she emptied out all her tears, it also served as a catalyst for her to buck up and prepare for her ultimate separation from the ranch, from Zeke and from all of her friends in Snowy Owl Crossing. When she finally left her room, she was able to present to Zeke a new, coolly detached woman.

  * * *

  CHRISTMAS WAS A turning point in the weather, too. Where for months they’d been plagued with ice and snow, rains came to melt the snow and turn everything into mud.

  Zeke sensed Myra withdrawing, but he wasn’t able to put his finger on why. She still did more than her fair share of chores inside and out. She continued to explain the work that needed to be done in terms he was able to jot down in his notebook. But her usual warmth was missing. And the sparkle he loved. It was as if the long winter had sucked joy out of her. He was afraid to bring it up, afraid he’d make her cry again.

  * * *

  EMERGING FROM THE third week in January where Zeke felt he and Myra were drifting further apart instead of growing closer as he’d envisioned before Christmas, he finally had to ask her. “Myra, you seem preoccupied. What’s wrong?”

  “I’m busy bringing heavies to the corral by the barn so when calving starts in earnest we’ll be ready for any event. Up to now you’ve seen three calves born, and they were normal. You’re about to get baptism by fire.”

  “Uh. Okay. I assume heavies are the heifers about to give birth.”

  “Bingo. Give the man a Kewpie doll.” Tightening Cayenne’s cinch, she rode off.

  Zeke wasn’t sure if he should get Ember and follow. But he wasn’t imagining Myra’s frostiness.

  Deciding his frustration had gone on long enough, he thought he’d ask Eric what was going on. Myra spoke often with her brother. Perhaps their folks were having some problems at Rolling Acres and she didn’t feel right sharing that news. Pulling out his phone, he put distance between himself and the barn, lest Myra return unexpectedly.

  “Eric? Hi, it’s Zeke. Sorry to bother you on a busy workday, but we haven’t touched base in a while. Since we’re about to be buried in calving, I assume you are, as well.”

  “Yeah. It’s been a wild January. We’re up to our ears in mud. Myra said you are, too. She also said you’re turning into a real rancher, Zeke.”

  “Really? She hasn’t been that forthright with me. In fact, that’s why I’m calling.” Zeke quickly laid out his observations and concerns. He finished and Eric didn’t speak.

  “Hey, buddy, did I lose you?”

  “No. Zeke, listen. You didn’t hear this from me, okay? Myra made me promise not to say a word, but you sound as if you care about her.”

  “I do. I care a lot. Is she ill? Tell me. I want to help.”

  “She’s sick at heart. She wanted the Flying Owl. It rocked her world when our folks signed the ranch over to you. Myra hoped you’d give up and go away, and I think she figured you’d sell to her. I wish I loved this place as much as she loves that one. She knows now it’ll never belong to her. If you want my advice, leave her alone to grieve. She promised you she’d stay through calving and she will. Oh, hey, Dad’s calling me. I’ve gotta dash. Keep what I told you between us or she’ll wring my neck. Bye.”

  Zeke found himself holding a dead phone, staring into space. He felt as if he’d been kicked in the gut. Eric’s words had landed with more force than when he’d been kicked by the heifer. Now, at least, he had an answer. How had he been so blind? Myra would never fall for him as long as he stood between her and her greater desire to own the ranch. Worse, she didn’t need him. She’d handled the Flying Owl fine before he showed up. And she could do it again.

  He went to the house for coffee and saw Orion rooting around in his pen. Zeke picked him up. Dang, but he’d let this little fellow become his pet, too. Scratching between Orion’s ears, Zeke set him down again. He was the interloper in this household.

  In rehab he’d met and gotten to be friends with a colonel who’d lost a leg. Stewart Redding was a former Montana lawyer who went home to rebuild his private practice. Zeke had his number. Stewart said if Zeke ever needed legal advice, to call. He didn’t need advice; he needed someone to regift the ranch to Myra.

  Before he could have regrets, he phoned the colonel.

  Making such an exchange would be far simpler than Zeke imagined. He needed to fax a copy of his deed to Stew along with his address. In two or three weeks, Redding would return the new deed to him by mail. That meant he could stay and help out through calving, and be out of Myra’s hair for good soon after.

  Zeke worried that he’d have too much time on his hands to reflect and be miserable. The next day he drove to town and went to the library to fax off the deed. A day later, calving hit with a vengeance.

  “I don’t know where you got off to yesterday,” Myra finally snapped after the birth of two healthy calves. “Added to a seven-day-a-week schedule feeding stock, this is a twenty-four-hour-a-day process. I’ll take nights because I’ve done it before and know what problems can crop up. I’ll know if the temperature drops to where a cow needs to birth in the barn instead of in the corral. I suggest you call and ask Eddie Four Bear or Aaron Younger to work alongside you six to eight hours a day for the next few weeks. They’re both old hands at this.”

  “You’re saying you haven’t taught me enough?”

  “You’ve done great so far, and to date no cow has abandoned her offspring. You haven’t had to watch me pull a stuck calf or turn one. But...I plan to leave the day after the last calf drops, so you may want to dicker a price with the guys to help you ear tag babies. That needs to happen ASAP. And after that, the branding. Then you’ll move the herd up into the foothills to the leased pasture.”

  Zeke opened his mouth to beg her to stay. A look on her face stopped him, so he dug out his cell phone. A few minutes later he garnered Myra’s attention. “Eddie and Aaron have jobs until March. Eddie says Luke Elkhorn took a semester off to earn money for tuition. Whaddya think? Eddie vouches for Luke.”

  “It’s your call, Zeke,” Myra said, going back to a cow pacing with her tail stuck straight out behind her, a sure indication she was in active labor.

  * * *

  FOR THE FIRST three weeks of February, Zeke and Myra passed one another without speaking, usually in the kitchen, where one stumbled awake as the other dumped a thermos and yawned off to bed. A few times they both fed Orion, which he loved.

  Zeke made a point to check the mail every day. It wasn’t hard since Myra caught her sleep then. His package came from the lawyer on a day he and Luke were kept busier than they’d ever been. Luke had to teach him how to turn a breech calf, then he went home.

  Zeke tossed the envelope on his bedroom dresser and piled the remainder of the mail on the kitchen counter. Myra had left him a note saying she’d sent a check for grass seed, and he’d need to pick it up from the feed store.

  He asked about it next time he saw her.

  “Don’t worry about it. You won’t seed pens until after you move the herd. And there’s st
ill a possibility of a late storm. In fact, the almanac predicts falling temps and maybe a norther by the end of next week. I hope it holds off until then. At that point we should only have a few stragglers to birth. Things are going exceedingly well. You haven’t lost a single calf. Better, there are no orphans.”

  “Luke said the same.”

  “Yeah, but this morning at dawn I went out to bury some of the clutter that built up from calving. I saw two wolves slinking around, so I set out smudge pots along the pen perimeter. If we burn them a few nights, the wolves will likely give up.”

  “I had no idea. Are you safe riding out there alone at night?” Zeke circled his fingers around Myra’s wrist to keep her from dashing away.

  “I’m fine. If you run into wildlife, clap your hands and shout.” She freed her arm and left the room, saying she was asleep on her feet.

  Thursday of the following week, shortly after daybreak they met again in the kitchen. Zeke asked about the wolves and noted Luke had replenished the firepots.

  “I only saw wolves that one time. You probably noticed the herd gathers in the center of the enclosures. All of them except new heifers know when the pots are lit it’s time to circle the wagons, so to speak.”

  “Ah, I’ll keep that in mind. Say, Jewell phoned last night to see if we needed her to check any calves. She was at Hank’s ranch. He had a sick cow and she brought antibiotics. If we need her, you should give her a shout-out. Tomorrow she and Tawana are going to band owl chicks. But she’d drop by here on her way back to her clinic.”

  Myra stifled a yawn. “I don’t need her for the cows. But give her a call. You probably want to see her.”

  “Why would I want to see her?” Zeke straightened from dumping used coffee grounds into the garbage can. “Luke said our calves are all healthy. One cow wandered off from her calf, but Luke and I scrammed her back, and she recognized her baby.”

  “I assumed you two haven’t gotten together since you went to town two or three weeks ago. That’s a long time to not see your girlfriend.” Myra rinsed her thermos, set it upside down on a paper towel to drain and headed off.