His Ranch or Hers

by Roz Denny Fox

  “Wait.” Zeke scratched his head. “I haven’t seen Jewell since I ordered Orion’s cape at the bazaar. Uh, well, she did introduce me to Carl Meyer at the newspaper. You mentioned him. Jewell wanted to see my photos of the snowy owls. She asked to buy a few, so I traded her for the knitting.”

  Myra studied Zeke through sleepy eyes. “Christmas Day you said—” Breaking off, she covered a huge yawn then rubbed the center of her forehead. “Never mind. My brain isn’t awake. Let’s leave it this way. Unless something drastic happens during your shift today, we don’t need Jewell’s medical expertise. And if all goes well and we wind down calving by the weekend and I’m out of here, I plan to stop in town and tell everyone goodbye.”

  “We need to talk first, Myra,” Zeke said, starting after her.

  She held up a hand. “We’ll have to carve out a time later. I know the money from the fall sale is in the ranch account and we haven’t resolved a split.” She backed through the door. “Truly, Zeke, my brain is mush, and I’m dead on my feet.”

  He pursed his lips to one side then waved her away. “What I have to talk about is important. Let’s wait till we’re both awake.”

  The next morning Zeke rose early, determined to give Myra the deed and tell her of his own plans to leave. Prior to retiring for the night, he’d looked the papers over to be sure everything was in order. He packed most of his clothes in the duffels he’d arrived with. He, not Myra, would be gone by the weekend.

  Standing at the kitchen window, he was surprised to see there’d been a massive shift in weather since he went to bed. Angry black clouds occluded the sky. Obviously the temperature had dropped, because Orion objected to going out on the porch through his doggie door. He’d push his snout out, squeal and return to hide under his quilt.

  Aware the pig needed to use his litter box, Zeke picked him up and carried him out. Wind blew sleet into the screened room. Orion took care of business and darted back inside, leaving Zeke alone and shivering.

  He dashed back in and had to push hard to shut the outer door. As he turned to the coffeemaker, he noticed a paper on the fridge. It was a note addressed to him.

  Zeke, it’s 4:00 a.m. The storm I told you the almanac predicted has hit. I went to bring in the last pregnant heifer but I found a portion of fence down and maybe twenty head of stock had wandered out. I saddled Cayenne and drove them all back in and repaired the fence. But the pregnant heifer is still loose somewhere. It’s five now. A bit lighter, but colder. I’m afraid freezing rain will cover her tracks. I’m going after her. Heading northeast. Like I said, she’s our last to deliver. I’m determined we’ll have a perfect record. Myra.

  Zeke held the note for a minute. The kitchen clock said almost six o’clock, meaning she’d been gone an hour. Unless she’d returned with the heifer and had her in the barn awaiting the delivery.

  Darn the Montana weather. He hadn’t needed his heavy jacket the past few days and last night he’d packed it. He debated about fixing coffee to take to Myra. If she was in the cold barn she could use a hot drink. On the other hand—well, he didn’t want to think about the other hand.

  Hurrying into his room, he unpacked his winter jacket and found his heavy gloves. This day called for a hat with earflaps. The one Myra first loaned him still sat on a shelf above the coatrack. Once suited up for the cold, Zeke battled wind-driven ice to reach the barn.

  One look around and he knew Myra hadn’t returned. Cayenne’s stall was empty. Given the changed weather, he needed to make the early feed run. They’d removed the snowplow from the tractor several weeks ago, but because they still supplemented feeding, the trailer remained hooked up.

  Zeke began loading bales, telling himself Myra would be back before he finished rounds. Since coming here, he’d been getting stronger, but he soon discovered that to fill the trailer by himself took a hefty toll on his left arm. Picking up the last bale left him in pain. Perhaps the frigid weather had something to do with his hurting again.

  Still no Myra.

  The drive out to the big pasture was slow going. He had to stop the tractor, break open bales and pitch hay into the enclosure at intervals.

  It wasn’t until he fed and checked on cow-calf pairs in the three smaller corrals that he realized how much time had lapsed. His watch said 9:00 a.m. Four hours had gone by. There was still no sign of Myra.

  He returned the equipment to the barn and stood in the doorway gazing toward the northeast. He’d seen her boot tracks at a section of newly repaired fence. In spite of the sleet, a lot of areas remained muddy. Zeke rubbed his aching arm, trying to decide what to do. Now he wished he hadn’t let Luke take the day off.

  Then all at once he saw Cayenne plodding toward him.

  But hold on. Plodding wasn’t right. Limping was more like it.

  Zeke ran out to meet the horse and saw she was riderless. She had gashes across her knees. Blood dripped down her legs. The saddle sat askew and she kept stepping on one loose rein.

  Terror smacked Zeke even as he led the mare into the barn. Obviously something bad had happened to Myra. His mind immediately went to a wolf attack. But would wolves only leave banged-up knees? Had Cayenne stumbled and fallen?

  He removed the saddle when he heard a vehicle pull up. Hoping someone was bringing Myra home, Zeke dropped the saddle and ran outside. Jewell emerged from her pickup.

  “Hey, Zeke, Tawana and I had to abandon our plan to band owls today. It’s too slick to get up to where they nest.” Then she stared at him. “You look awful. Sorry, that’s a horrible thing to say by way of greeting, but is something wrong?”

  Zeke clasped her arm and yanked her into the barn, showing her Cayenne. He dispensed a short version of Myra’s note, then said the horse had come in bloodied and alone.

  “So Myra’s out in this storm someplace without a way to get home? We need to call around and organize a search party. Usually it takes an hour or so to gather one.”

  Zeke clapped a palm over her phone. “You take care of Cayenne. I’ll saddle Ember and go find her. If I don’t pick up her tracks, I’ll call you.”

  “Zeke, that’s foolish. Do you have any idea where to look?”

  “Her note said she headed northeast. I saw her tracks by the fence. Now I have Cayenne’s tracks, which are fresher. I did this kind of thing in the military,” he said, cinching the saddle tight before adding a bridle.

  “Okay,” Jewell said. “But northeast from here are a lot of deep ravines. Take a blanket and water in case she’s injured. I’ll treat Cayenne until you get back or call. Come to think of it, why hasn’t Myra phoned home?”

  Zeke frowned as he tied lariats around a blanket bedroll. “Don’t dredge up trouble. She’s going to be fine,” he said harshly, swinging into the saddle.

  Jewell placed a hand on the bridle for a moment. “You love her, don’t you, Zeke?”

  He didn’t respond.

  “If I’m right, why are you letting her leave? Luke told Tawana that Myra will be gone for good this weekend.”

  “She’s not going anywhere,” he stated firmly. “Turn loose, Jewell, so I can bring her home where she belongs.”

  Offering a self-satisfied smile and a double thumbs-up, Jewell stepped aside and let Zeke leave the barn.

  Chapter Twelve

  Zeke galloped to where Myra had repaired the fence. The tracks were clear. He turned northeast, but sleet soon hampered his ability to see well. Then Cayenne’s tracks intersected larger, deeper ones. This could be where Myra picked up the trail of the pregnant heifer.

  Pausing at intervals, he called her name. Ice crystals stung his face as wind drove her name back down his throat. Everything remained eerily quiet.

  All at once the terrain got rocky. Tracks disappeared. Farther uphill were scattered trees, but dropping away on his left side were the ravines Jewell warned about. A knot formed in Zeke’s belly. He had ridden roughly two miles up a vertical incline without finding Myra. By then he was hoarse from yelling for her.


  Reaching a fork in the trail, he dismounted. No tracks. Had he lost them? Had he taken a wrong turn? He remounted, panic gripping his throat.

  Suddenly a low-flying snowy owl swooped directly over him sounding the krek-krek Myra said was an alarm. Since the bird flew down from the left fork, Zeke judged it a sign. For all he knew, worse danger lay ahead. Regardless, he urged Ember forward.

  Evergreens dotting the granite-pocked slope offered some relief from the diminishing sleet. Zeke had his head tucked into his chest to ward off wind when Ember rounded an abrupt corner and kicked rocks over a precipice. The stones rattled down a shear drop-off, causing Zeke to rein in fast.

  Sitting to still his racing heart, he spotted a lone heifer. She wasn’t pregnant, which stole hope that this was the heavy Myra mentioned in her note. The silly cow languished out in the weather, bawling at nothing Zeke could see.

  Passing by, he looked her over but didn’t see any injuries. However, she bore the Flying Owl brand. He renewed his hoarse shouts for Myra.

  His first call echoed back from the ravine. A second one resulted in a responding thin cry—or so he thought. A muffled “help” merged with a louder bawl from the heifer, who plodded closer to the rim.

  Zeke vaulted from his saddle again. Looping Ember’s reins around a spindly pine, he cupped his hands at his mouth and at the cliff he yelled Myra’s name. This time he heard an unmistakable response directly below a crumbled area that had fallen away.

  His heart thundered as he dropped and lay on his belly. Leaning out as far as he dared, he spotted Myra huddled on a narrow outcrop some ten feet below. Sheltered in her arms was a newborn calf. At first a burst of joy stole his voice.

  “Zeke, is it really you?” she shouted. “Thank heaven you saw my note.”

  “Cayenne came home with bloody knees,” he managed to say.

  “Oh no, is she badly hurt?”

  “Jewell stopped by just as she limped in. She’ll be fine.”

  “Good. The heifer delivered, but didn’t accept her baby. I thought she’d follow if I carried her calf. I tried to mount Cayenne, but she stumbled. It was hailing and windy. I didn’t realize we were so near the edge.”

  “Let’s see what I can do to get you out of this mess.”

  “It’s a really steep slope. I tried grabbing a bush to climb up, but the granite is as slick as glass.”

  “I have ropes. If I tie them together they’ll reach you.” He scooted back, stood up and unwound two lariats he’d tied around the bedroll. His major worry was that his bad left arm lacked the strength to pull her and the calf up.

  “Is there a way to send the calf up separately?” he called, looking around to see what he might use for added leverage.

  “No. She’s just a baby.”

  “Okay, look, I’ll make a loop in one end of this rope and snake it down to you. I’ll wrap it around a pine. It’s scraggly, but far enough back from the unstable shelf I think it’ll hold. You’re going to have to climb some if you can, Myra. I hurt my left arm feeding stock earlier. My only power is from my right side.”

  “Zeke, I’m sorry. Can Jewell round up some guys to help?”

  “I didn’t get her number. But she wondered why you didn’t phone me.”

  “I dropped my cell trying to get it out of my pocket without losing my grip on the calf. This protrusion isn’t very wide.”

  He heard her concern, which reopened a hole in his stomach. But he’d been in worse fixes in Afghanistan. He would make this rescue. “I’m sending down the rope. Hook it around your waist. When it’s tight, hang on and I’ll pull.”

  “Ready,” she called a few seconds later, her voice wobbly.

  Zeke gritted his teeth and forced his injured left arm to help with a hand-over-hand tug-of-war. At least it felt like a tug-of-war. He braced his feet against the skinny tree, praying it would hold. It was slow going. A strand of the rope frayed and split. In spite of the cold, he began to sweat.

  After what seemed an interminable amount of time, he saw Myra’s hat peek over the rim and his heart kicked. He wound the thinning rope around his body for added support, gave a giant yank, and like a cork popping out of a bottle, Myra and the calf exploded from the ravine and flattened Zeke.

  For a time they all lay panting atop chilly, muddy pine needles.

  The heifer plodded up and began licking her calf. Myra set the babe on its feet and threw herself at Zeke, pressing kisses all over his face. “You did it,” she babbled. “You saved us. Saving Odells must be your lot in life. You’ve now rescued both of my parents’ kids from sure death. What in the world can they give you this time to show their appreciation? What can I give you?”

  Zeke scooted upright and kept kissing Myra. He finally took a breath and held her head still. “This is a helluva time to start this conversation. Seriously, Myra, the only thing you can give me...all that I want is—” he hesitated and brushed a tattered glove over her eyebrows “—is you. I might have lost you today without ever telling you I love you.”

  Myra stared at him with saucer eyes. “Zeke, when you fell backward did you hit your head on a rock? You’re talking nutty. I’m leaving, remember?”

  “My head’s fine and you’re not going anywhere,” he said gruffly. He tried to hold her, but was forced to let her wiggle away. Distributing his weight on his good arm, he got up. “This isn’t something to settle here. We need to get the cow, calf and us home. Can Ember carry our combined weight?”

  “Probably. Let me mount, then hand me the calf. Keep Ember well back from the brink when you climb aboard.”

  “Definitely. Do you know Jewell’s number? We should call and tell her you’re okay and she can go home. You and I have business to settle.” Zeke passed her his phone.

  Taking it, Myra punched in numbers. “Jewell, it’s Myra. I got the new calf and Zeke’s bringing us home. Is Cayenne okay?” She listened a moment. “Ah, good. No, you don’t need to wait if you have another call. Bye.” She returned Zeke’s phone and swung into the saddle. “Wrap the calf in that bedroll I see on the ground.”

  He did and handed the bundle to her over the mother’s protests. Ember danced around, making Zeke’s mounting difficult. He finally managed and the heifer lumbered along beside them. Zeke held Myra close. It felt good. It felt right.

  The gelding stepped out briskly. In the improved weather they soon reached the juncture where the two paths merged.

  “How did you know which trail to take?” Myra turned slightly toward Zeke.

  “I heard a snowy owl. It flew down from the left fork. I took it as a sign—a good omen. I’ve developed a real liking for snowy owls.”

  “I’m lucky. The right-hand trail is wider. It leads to the summer pasture. Had you taken it you’d never have found us.”

  “I wouldn’t have quit looking. I meant what I said back there. I love you, Myra.” He felt her stiffen. “I haven’t known how to tell you.”

  “What about Jewell?”

  “What about her? This isn’t the first time you’ve mentioned her like she means something to me. I barely know Jewell.”

  “Lila and I saw you two laughing and talking as you walked along Main Street. And at the bazaar you two went off together.”

  “I told you she made Orion’s cape in exchange for a photo of the owls. That’s all it was.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m all packed. I’m going home to Rolling Acres later today.”

  “If anyone leaves the Flying Owl, it’ll be me. But I’m not going far. I intended to have this talk in the warmth of the house, but as we’re in it now I’ll go ahead and tell you I’ve deeded the ranch to you.”

  “What?” Myra whirled so fast she almost dropped the calf, who cried and caused the heifer to trot up and bawl her disapproval. “Why, when you’ve proven yourself in so many ways? Plus, I heard you tell your brother how much you love living here.”

  “Don’t you know you’re the biggest part of that? Maybe I should have guessed how much you wanted
the ranch. I didn’t. Not until I asked Eric if he had any idea why you were so down in the dumps. I swear I had no idea the ranch caused a divide between us that widened day by day.”

  “I’ll kill him. I told Eric not to share that with you or our folks. I confided in him at a low point. I was hurt that the folks didn’t discuss it with me. On the other hand I never told them how I felt. I’m so ashamed you found out.”

  “Don’t be. I wormed it out of Eric. Just know it means everything to me to see you happy. Look, we’re home.” He pointed at the barn. “Let’s get the cow and calf in where it’s warm. Are you okay to feed them while I take care of Ember?” Myra nodded. “Then we’ll go to the house and I’ll get you the deed I had drawn up.” Reining in, he got off and lifted Myra and the calf down.

  “I won’t take it, Zeke. How can you possibly love me knowing I wanted you to go away from the beginning? I shoved crappy jobs at you hoping you’d fail.”

  He leaned over and kissed her lips. Drawing back slowly, he said, “It’s the crazy kind of love that got hold of me and won’t let go. But in case you think it’s all about the ranch, I swear if you sold everything and moved to Timbuktu I’d follow you.”

  She touched a finger to her mouth, then did the same to his before she tightened her hold on the calf and led the heifer into the barn’s interior.

  Zeke took care of Ember, checked Cayenne and fed them both. He and Myra completed their chores at the same time.

  As they trekked to the house, he casually slipped an arm around her waist and was pleased she didn’t shove him away.

  “I know you hate what I did to the house,” he said, helping her off with her jacket after they went inside.

  “It’s more that I didn’t want to like it. I love the improvements.”

  Smiling, he guided her to the kitchen, where he’d left the deed. Seating her at the table, he handed her the documents. “Read it all, including the fine print. I’ll make some coffee to warm you up.”