Snow Melts in Spring

by Vogts, Deborah

  The leather ball flew sixty yards as though in slow motion and descended near the end zone where his wide receiver was headed. With cat-like agility, Charlie leapt into the air and caught the pass as though he had glue on his fingers. The game was theirs.

  In the next instant, Gil heard the roar of the Green Bay crowd and knew something had gone wrong. Charlie must not have been able to keep his hold on the football. Gil closed his eyes and toppled back onto the field in misery.

  It was over.

  THREE

  JOHN MCCRAY’S HOUSEKEEPER GREETED MATTIE AT THE RANCH house the next morning and led her down the hallway to John’s room. Mattie knocked lightly on the wooden door, which opened at her touch. A beam of sunshine streamed in from a slit in the dark drapes, illuminating the frail gentleman propped on an oversized pillow and lying on what he affectionately called his “deathbed.” She stifled a giggle. John McCray was far from dead.

  “My boy’s team lost. Twenty-one to fifteen.” He threw his copy of the Wichita Beacon onto the covers. “Too bad about that final pass.”

  Mattie already heard from her employees how the winning team had pummeled Gil’s receiver, knocking the ball loose and costing the 49ers the win. “Is this how it is now that you’re home from the hospital? You stay in bed all day?” She strode to the window and pulled back the heavy curtains.

  “I don’t need another sassy woman telling me what to do. Mildred’s always trying to make me eat those counterfeit eggs. Says I need to lower my cholesterol.”

  “You’d better watch how you talk about your hired help. If you lost Mildred, you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself.” Mattie moved to his bedside and handed him his flannel robe. “Let’s go out on the veranda. It’s a beautiful morning, even if it is the thick of winter. I heard on the radio that it’s already fifty-six degrees.” She held onto his arm and helped him from the bed. “If that doesn’t entice you, I brought you some of Clara’s apple muffins.”

  His mouth opened in surprise. “You didn’t bake them yourself?”

  “Nope, I’ve been too busy with that horse of yours. You’ll have to settle for these.” She held a white paper sack in the air. “I have Clara’s word they’re made with real eggs.”

  Mattie ignored the man’s grumble and escorted him to the veranda. When he’d settled into a chair, she placed an afghan across his lap and took a seat beside him at the wrought iron table. She loved the atmosphere of the Lightning M Ranch with its large native limestone house and seven thousand acres of prime grassland. The daughter of a cattleman, she’d grown up on a ranch not far from here and couldn’t imagine living anywhere but in the Flint Hills. Of course, she lived in town now, but someday . . .

  “I wanted to talk to you about Dusty.” She waited as Mildred brought out a tray for breakfast, her yellow apron fluttering in the morning air. The older woman set two plates before them filled with waffles, bacon, and scrambled eggs, along with orange juice and a thermos of coffee.

  “Thank you, Mildred.” Mattie smiled at the devoted employee.

  John didn’t offer his thanks, his face as sour as ever. “I suppose this is some of that fake turkey bacon you like to give me. What’s wrong with feeding a man real eggs and meat from a hog? I’d give anything to sink my teeth into a piece of real fried bacon, cooked in its own grease.”

  Mildred squeezed Mattie’s shoulder. “It’s a pleasure to cook for someone who appreciates my efforts.” The woman wrinkled her nose at her employer, who shuffled his eggs to the edge of his plate, making it clear he had no intention of eating them.

  “Have you heard how the Marshall boy is?” John changed the topic in his usual abrupt manner.

  Mattie’s smile faded as Mildred went inside the house, the screen door slamming behind her with an unnecessary whack. “I heard they took him to Emporia, but his prognosis didn’t sound good.”

  “He was lucky he didn’t get killed. When I was a boy, if you got half-cocked on Jack Daniels, your folks would have skinned you alive. ’Course, back then I rode my horse to school. Things were different in my day.”

  “Sometimes I think we’d be better off without some of the conveniences we have now,” Mattie said. “But if that were the case, your horse would be dead, which is what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  “Got my bill figured up already?” The elderly host sloshed juice onto his plate, and she quickly mopped up the orange liquid with her napkin.

  “Let’s discuss the care Dusty will need when he comes home.”

  “I haven’t thought that far ahead,” John said gruffly.

  Mattie suspected as much. She took a bite of the sweet, tender waffle and gazed out at the hills, a perfect view from where they sat. Even in the dead of winter when the grass was crisp and brown, she never tired of the rolling plains. In the distance, a mangy coyote traipsed across the hilly terrain. She turned to her friend, who was soaking up a large bite of waffle with the last of his maple syrup.

  “You need to think about how you’re going to manage Dusty if he makes it through the next few days. He’ll be on a special diet and will need medication as well as daily exercise. You might want to hire extra help.”

  John snorted. “I’ll hire you and you can treat him. That makes more sense than paying some greenhorn.” The man sniffed the bacon on his plate and frowned. He tossed it onto the ground, and his blue heeler Hank chomped the strip of meat at once.

  Mattie’s gaze shifted from the small cow dog to the open prairie. As a girl she’d ridden with abandon on every acre of her father’s land, embracing the wind as her horse flew over the lush bluestem. “I’ll consider that offer if you allow me to ride your pastures.”

  “Shoot, girl, you can do that now.” His steel gray eyes narrowed in on her. “You look tired. Didn’t you get any sleep last night?”

  She chuckled and swallowed the last of the pulpy juice. “Rest will come. Right now, I should get to the clinic to check on your horse.”

  “Not my horse. Gil’s. If you’re needed, they’ll call on that fancy gadget you carry on your hip. Besides, I have a heifer I want you to look at.”

  “I thought that was an excuse to get me to come over.” Mattie smiled, but the usual wave of guilt set in as it always did when she was tempted to do something for her own enjoyment, even if it was under the guise of work.

  “I’ll have Jake saddle up my mount. She hasn’t been ridden for a coon’s age.” The man scooted from the table, his face lit with excitement. “A little exercise will do her good. She might be a tad fresh, but from what I remember, you can hold your own on a horse. I warn you, though, she likes to jump fences.” A low chuckle issued from his chest, and Mattie smiled at how good the hearty laughter sounded.

  “You mean Tulip?”

  “Don’t make fun of my mare. She might not be much to look at, but pretty is as pretty does. The way she handles, she’s worth her weight in gold.”

  Laughter bubbled in Mattie’s throat. “Okay, I’ll check on this heifer of yours, but then I need to get to the office.” She reached into her sack and pulled out a muffin. “I’ll take one of these to your foreman Jake, but you can have the rest . . . on one condition.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Apologize to Mildred for your mean behavior.”

  John’s mouth gaped. “She knows I don’t intend any harm.”

  “No.” Mattie tossed him a muffin, and he surprised her by catching it in midair. “I don’t think she does.”

  JAKE MET MATTIE AND JOHN AS THEY WALKED TO THE BARN, HIS beat-up Stetson perched low over his eyes to block the sun. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” The grizzled cowboy grinned as he walked toward them.

  Mattie handed him a muffin and a cup of coffee. “Compliments of Clara’s Café.”

  “Mighty thoughtful of you.”

  Jake reminded Mattie of a greeting card cowboy. His legs were bowed, his hair a coarse gray, and his skin had been wrinkled by age and wind. He had a wide, crooked nose that looked lik
e it had been broken a few times, and his bright blue eyes had seen plenty of living.

  “How’s Dusty?” Jake asked.

  “We’ll know more in a few days.”

  The ranch hand turned to his boss, who leaned heavily on his wooden cane. “I’ve checked the fence where the accident happened, and sure ’nough, it was down. I thought I’d go around the section today to see if there are any other gaps.”

  “That’d be good. Sorry I can’t help.” John tucked his chin to his chest. “This young lady wants to look at that heifer with the bad foot you’ve been worried about. Saddle Tulip for her, then help her get the heifer tied down in the pasture.” He turned to Mattie and frowned. “Can’t even saddle my own horse no more. What’s a man good for if he can’t do the things he loves?”

  Mattie squeezed John’s arm. “You’re already doing more than your doctor expected. Have a little faith.” She rose on her tiptoes to kiss his leathery cheek.

  Jake nodded and stuffed a wad of chewing tobacco against his lower gum. “Yep, ya gotta have a little faith, is all. Things will right themselves sooner or later.”

  DESCENDING FROM TWO THOUSAND FEET IN A PRIVATE CESSNA, Gilbert McCray stared at the terrain below. From this vantage point, the white flinty rocks embedded in the hills of his father’s ranch stood out even more than he remembered.

  “Thanks again for doing this, Roger. If it hadn’t been for you, I’d still be sitting in an airport terminal waiting for my flight.”

  “No thanks necessary. I like getting the old girl out every now and then to stretch her wings. Besides, I owed you a favor.”

  Gil chuckled. He and Roger were friends from way back when they played for the Denver Broncos, his first pro team after college. “I don’t believe in owing favors unless they’re my own. Thanks the same, but I’ll pay for this ride.”

  Roger nodded. “Tough break last night. If your guy could have held onto that pass, the scoreboard would have been yours.”

  Gil shrugged. “You win some, you lose some.”

  He hated losing. Success had blown in like the wind with the NFL draft in Denver, microphones in his face, an overnight celebrity. He knew it would blow out as fast. “Hudson’s grass landing strip is over there on your left. My father’s neighbor is a crop duster. I rode with him when I was kid.”

  “You like living on the edge, don’t you?” Roger reduced the throttle to increase the rate of descent. “Football, low-flying airplanes, wild rodeos.”

  Gil’s mouth tilted into a smirk. “What can I say, life’s an adventure.”

  The plane angled and as it turned, Gil whispered under his breath. Below him, racing across the prairie, was a red-haired vision on a gray horse, her long hair dancing in the wind like the mane and tail of the creature she rode.

  “Who is that, and what is she doing on my father’s property?”

  FOUR

  BRISK AIR WHIPPED THROUGH MATTIE’S JACKET, REMINDING HER IT was still winter despite the fair weather. Now that Jake had gone on to fix fence after tending the heifer, Mattie gave the dappled mare free rein and rode across the dry prairie, careful of the large clusters of flint rock. She stopped on one of the taller mounds and gazed out at the land, which stretched for miles in every direction. A flock of Canada geese flew overhead, and Tulip’s ears perked at their haunting call.

  Acknowledge and take to heart this day that the Lord is God in heaven above and on the earth below. There is no other.

  She breathed in the fresh air, and her lungs tightened from the cold. Then the hum of an engine broke through the stillness as a small aircraft descended overhead. Curious, she raced Tulip down the hill for a closer look.

  Minutes later, Mattie slid the horse to a halt as a man in jeans and a red jacket tossed a large duffel bag over the fence of the McCray property. He climbed through the barbed wires as though he owned the place.

  She’d heard about money-hungry businessmen scoping out ranches and getting their grubby hands on every stitch of tallgrass left in the county. It reminded her too much of her own family’s ordeal.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” She pitched the mare forward with every intention of running over the intruder. “This is private property. No trespassing.”

  The tall, haughty man didn’t seem the least bit disturbed by the close proximity of the horse. Instead, he smiled and hitched the bulky bag onto his back. “I could tell you the same.”

  Mattie glared at the stranger. “I don’t know who you are, but you don’t want to mess with John McCray.” She motioned toward the aircraft now setting up for lift-off. “I suggest you hurry, or you’re going to miss your ride.”

  The broad-shouldered man instead began walking in the direction of the house. After a few moments, Mattie dug her heels into Tulip’s side and caught up with him. She guessed the fellow to be in his late thirties and couldn’t help but notice how the brown curls against his forehead accented his blue eyes. “What did you say your name was?”

  He stopped and turned. “I didn’t, but since you brought it up, who are you, and why are you riding my father’s horse?”

  Mattie’s eyebrows scrunched in doubt. Could this be the star quarterback the whole county admired? The man who abandoned his father’s ranch, who couldn’t call his own dad in the hospital? Upon closer examination, he did bear a grand resemblance to John. They both possessed thin upper lips, bushy eyebrows, and the very same cleft in their chins.

  “Gil?”

  “One and the same.”

  Mattie wished she had a cowboy hat to cover her embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

  “That’s quite all right. It’s refreshing not to be recognized for a change, Miss . . .”

  “Mattie Evans. I’m a friend of your father’s.”

  Gil’s brow wrinkled as though trying to put a face with the name, then his lips flattened into a straight line. “That’s funny — I didn’t think the old man had any friends.” He continued his trek across the pasture.

  Unable to let the comment pass without rebuttal, she clicked her tongue to move Tulip forward. “Not that you’d know or care, but your father has lots of friends. It’s a shame he can’t say the same about family.”

  Gil stopped abruptly. “What are you implying, Miss Evans?”

  “Only that you couldn’t be bothered to visit your father when he needed you most.” Mattie raised her chin, daring him to deny the statement.

  “What makes you an expert on my family?” His sudden irritation could have torn the hide off one of John’s steers.

  “I told you — I’m a friend. I care about your father.”

  “And I don’t? You don’t know the first thing about me and my father — how things are with us.”

  Mattie fidgeted in her seat. Perhaps she’d gone too far. “I know this. If you walk up to your father’s doorstep unannounced, you’ll likely send him into cardiac arrest.”

  Gil’s sudden arrival had certainly jump-started her heart. In fact, it took her breath away. She hated to think what John’s reaction might be. Patting the mare’s sleek neck, she stole a peek at the quarterback’s chiseled face.

  “If you don’t mind, I’ll ride ahead and let John know you’re here.”

  “I’d be obliged if you would,” Gil said, a forced politeness in his tone. “I could use a little time to get my thoughts in order.”

  “I imagine your dad would appreciate the same.” With a flick of the reins, Mattie moved ahead of him, past a squeaky windmill.

  “The prodigal son returns.” His sarcastic tone echoed against the clear blue sky.

  Mattie glanced back and saw his cynical grin. Galloping onward, she whispered a prayer that the two McCray men wouldn’t butt heads like two bulls in a pasture.

  MATTIE LED HER MOUNT INTO THE MCCRAY BARN, SURPRISED TO see John sitting on a hay bale.

  “How did Tulip do? The mare didn’t fool you into thinking she was tired, did she?” John teased, a muffin crumb stuck to the stubble on his chin.
>
  “No, she didn’t pull any tricks.” Mattie took her time unbuckling the leather saddle strap, unsure how to inform the man of his son’s arrival.

  “Tell that to Gil. Last time he was here, he wanted to sell her. Insisted Tulip was too lazy to catch up to those steers. A lot he knows — got sidetracked with football and lost interest in cowboy ways.”

  Mattie remembered going to the local rodeos as a girl but was too young to recall Gil. “My sisters said he could have gone pro.”

  The aged rancher stood and leaned on his wooden cane. “I guess he had other ideas.” John’s heavy fist slammed against Tulip’s saddle with a loud smack, causing the horse to prance to the side. Mattie shoved the mare back into position.

  “If you ask me, football ruined him.” John’s displeasure carried through his gruff tone. “Those college coaches with their fancy scholarships got their hands on him, and he got too big for his britches. Didn’t give ranch life a second glance after that. Just off and left for bigger things.”

  Mattie had seen in her own family how pride and fortune could bring a person down and guessed that’s what had happened to Gil. “Speaking of Gil — ”

  “One of these days, some cowboy’s gonna sweep you away from here too, Mattie. I feel it in my bones. My luck, I’ll already be in my grave and will miss hearing your sweet voice say I do.”

  Mattie laughed. “I swear you’re worse than my daddy.”

  “Don’t think marriage won’t happen. You’re a dandy girl. Don’t settle for second best.”

  “I’m content to live the life God’s given me right here in Charris County. Especially if I can wake up to these hills every morning.”

  John chuckled, then his expression turned sober. “These hills won’t keep you warm at night. I know that for a fact.”

  Mattie’s cheeks flushed at his remark. She heaved the sturdy saddle off the mare’s back and eased it onto a stand, glad for the excuse to exert a bit of energy. Fearing the subject might change again, she forged ahead with her news. “You’ll never guess who I saw coming down out of the sky, right there in your pasture.”