“What do you think Mattie wants?” Gil sat in the armchair beside his father’s bed.
“You . . . and these hills. She’s been in love with these hills ever since I met her.”
“Do you suppose she’d ever leave them?”
“And move to California?” His father tugged on his bedcovers. “Do you love her?”
“Like you and Mama?” Gil prayed for a love that strong. Then, for reasons he couldn’t explain, he decided to ask the question that had plagued him for years. “How come you and Mama never came to any of my games?”
His dad’s brow puckered. “You sure got a lot of questions.”
Gil pointed to the Bible hidden under the covers. “You’re reading the Book with all the answers.”
“It’s your mother’s.” His father pulled the Bible out and placed his wrinkled hands on the leather. “She seemed to like Psalms — had a lot of those pages marked with pen.”
“As for man, his days are like grass, he flourishes like a flower of the field; the wind blows over it and it is gone, and its place remembers it no more.”
His dad looked up, curious.
“Psalm one hundred three.” Gil smiled. “About the games . . . don’t you know how much I wanted you to attend?” He squeezed the arms of his chair, not sure he wanted to hear his father’s answer. “You could have had the best seats in the stadium.”
The old man grumbled. “If I’d known how much it meant to you, I’d have taken your mother. She wanted to go. I never thought you cared.” He slid out of bed in his flannel pajamas and shuffled across the room to a wooden dresser drawer where he pulled out an old scrapbook. “I saved all the newspaper articles your mother cut out. Even have the last game you lost to Green Bay. Cut that one out myself.” He sniffed and handed the collection to Gil before climbing back in bed.
Gil leafed through the pages and took in the many newspaper articles collected by his parents through the years.
They’d done this for him?
He clutched the book to his chest. “May I keep it?”
His father waved his hand in the air. “Go ahead, it’s yours.”
THE NEXT MORNING GIL WOKE EARLY, ENCOURAGED BY THE STEPS HE and his father had taken the night before. He’d come to terms with the situation with Mattie, as well, and decided to give her time to digest his confession.
Right now, the only female he wanted to be around was the young filly he’d purchased in Central Kansas. With the recent trip to California and his father’s illness, Gil hadn’t done anything with the two horses but put them out to pasture.
That changed today.
He headed for the barn and grabbed his lariat.
Thirty minutes later, after a short, hard fight on the rope, Gil had the three-year-old filly lunging a couple of feet inside the rail of the wooden round pen. As a boy, he’d learned to start his groundwork in a circle and had been taught by the best trainers he knew — his dad, his brother, and his childhood friend, Clive Richards. What his brother didn’t know, his dad did, and if neither of them knew the answer to a problem, they turned to Clive, who possessed the finest horse training instincts in the county.
Gil revolved in the center of the ring and noted the bay’s attentiveness. The girl took well to his commands, and at the slightest tug stopped and faced him. He stepped forward and she stood calm, no longer stressed. Grabbing the loop in both hands, Gil prompted her to lower her head. When she did, he lifted the rope off her neck.
“Good girl.” He laid his hand on her forehead, then walked to the edge of the pen. A good start.
The sound of clapping echoed from the barn. “A man’s most content when he has the submission of a female — wouldn’t you agree?”
Gil raised his head to see Jenna coming toward him. “Only if it’s given freely and her respect is earned.”
Jenna’s mouth twisted in an ugly smile. “Whatever you say.” She glanced about the barnyard and climbed onto the wooden railing. Hank and the beagle came up and sniffed her black pant legs. She shooed them away with a kick. “I thought I’d come by this morning and have that visit with your dad. Did you mention my offer to him?”
Checking the filly’s trust, Gil approached the bay a final time and touched her forehead — sensed her peace. The work done, he turned and walked away without looking back. Once outside the pen, he captured the attention of the two dogs, then headed to the barn, not bothering to answer Jenna.
She ran to catch up. “Well, did you?”
“He’s not interested.” Gil hung his lariat on a hook on the wall. As he turned to her, his gaze traveled the length of her body in an effort to send a clear message. “I’m not either. I suggest you bother someone else, preferably in another county far from here.”
Jenna’s eyes bulged with resentment. “That’s strong talk for a man who was bound speechless by my sister last night. You chased after her with your tail between your legs. Did Mattie grant forgiveness? I’m surprised she’d even talk to you.”
Gil headed outside to fill Dusty’s water trough. “If I were you, I’d be more concerned about whether she’ll talk to you.”
FORTY-SEVEN
MATTIE SAW HER SISTER APPROACH AND OPENED THE CABIN DOOR. The black outfit Jenna wore emphasized the dark circles under her eyes. “You’re getting an early start on trouble, don’t you think?”
Jenna stepped inside and laid her leather jacket on the table. “Very funny, sis. I guess you and Gil made up. At least you didn’t kill him, I see.”
A foggy haze filled the air and reminded Mattie of the egg frying on the stove. She’d put off going to the clinic this morning, not prepared to face Gil. Now, forced to deal with her sister, she wasn’t sure which was worse. “What makes you think I’d want to?”
“Don’t play dumb. Did he tell you?”
Mattie turned a piece of bacon in the skillet, and grease splattered her skin. She shook her hand in pain. “Yes, he told me everything.” She lowered the flame on the stove, her own temper simmering.
“I thought you loved Frank,” Mattie said. “Didn’t you plan to marry him? Or is that simply what you led us to believe all those years ago?”
Jenna sat at the wooden table and pulled a pack of cigarettes from her coat pocket. “Mind if I smoke?”
“Yes, I do.” Mattie fixed her plate and sat to eat breakfast. “Which brother did you love, Jenna? Frank or Gil? Or do you still love one?”
Her sister slipped the pack of smokes in her coat and grunted. “I’m not interested in your hunky quarterback. I have bigger fish to fry.”
Mattie doused her egg with ketchup. “What would you call last night, then?”
“That was nothing more than a test . . . to see if he loved you.”
Test, my foot . . .
“And by your standards, did he pass or fail?” Mattie bit into her creation, but the distaste of her sister’s lies dulled its flavor.
“You tell me.” Jenna stole a piece of bacon from Mattie’s plate. “Has Gil mentioned anything about the ranch?”
Mattie’s gaze darted to her sister’s mouth, and she wondered whether this was another game. When had her sister turned into such a pit bull?
“You mean his father’s ranch?” Mattie got up to pour herself a cup of coffee. Her hands trembled. “He won’t sell.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure. With a little prodding from Gil, you might be surprised what the old man’s capable of, especially in his condition.” Jenna rested her elbows on the table and fiddled with the sleeve of her jacket. “I know how upset that makes you. You probably dreamed of settling here with Gil and raising babies, but he’d never be satisfied on this ranch. He and I are the same that way — too confined here.”
Mattie lowered her eyes and tried not to let the comment disturb her. “I guess that means you’ll be flying to Texas soon.” She sipped her coffee, guilt-ridden at wanting her sister gone. There was never any peace with Jenna around.
“I thought I’d spend a few days with the folk
s. Not that they’ll be anymore interested in visiting than you’ve been. All they talked about at the wedding was Mattie this and Mattie that. I had to beg them to listen to my life. They’re much more concerned about yours — they always were.”
“You’re wrong.” Mattie pushed the curtains back and watched Gil lead his new roan mare into the barn. “The folks and I hardly ever talked.” Sadness welled inside her chest as the words sank into her heart. She didn’t feel close to any of her family, not her sisters, nor her parents. The last few months, she’d urged Gil to make amends with his dad. Maybe it was time she took her own advice.
“Well, whatever.” Jenna stood and shrugged into her jacket. “Bridgett’s the princess who can do no wrong, you’re the baby who needs protection, and I’m the black sheep of the family.”
Mattie watched her leave. “You don’t have to be the black sheep,” she said as Jenna stepped out the door.
Jenna turned and smiled. “Like I told Gil — you always see the best in people. That’s probably why he loves you so much. I’ll admit the thought of going after Gil again was tempting, but when I saw the way he chased after you at the wedding, I knew there wasn’t any point. So I willingly concede, and I’m outta here.” She blew Mattie a quick kiss and was gone.
GIL HITCHED THE RED ROAN TO A STALL AND HEARD THE HUM OF an engine and the crunch of tires on the gravel outside the barn. He prayed Jenna had left and hadn’t bothered his dad about selling the property.
Too bad for her if she did. He certainly knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of his father’s tirades.
Footsteps sounded behind him. Light footsteps about the size of a particular doctor’s boots. “Did you and your sister have a nice chat?” he asked Mattie without turning.
“No one has nice visits with Jenna.” Mattie came up beside Gil. “What about you? I supposed she convinced you to persuade John to accept her offer? You know how much your dad loves this ranch. How can you do this to him?” She went on before he had a chance to defend himself. “I want to talk to John — to discourage him from selling.”
Gil smiled down at her, though tempted to bite back. “After everything I admitted at the reception, what makes you think I’m going to betray him?” He retrieved a currycomb to smooth the tangles from the horse’s dark mane, unsure if he and Mattie would ever work out the knots in their relationship.
“Last night I bared my soul to you,” he said. “I didn’t hold anything back — not even the fact that I love you. I’m not sure what Jenna said, but you need to decide who you’re going to trust, Mattie — me or her.” He laid the comb down and walked away, just as he’d walked away from the three-year-old in the round pen.
No looking back.
When he reached the house, he took the porch steps two at a time and found his dad reclining in his favorite chair in the living room.
“Did Jenna visit you this morning?”
His father glanced up from his newspaper and frowned. “No, why? Was she here?”
Gil swiped the hair from his forehead, relieved he didn’t have to deal with the repercussions of her visit. “She seems to be on a warpath.” He checked his jeans for dirt before sitting on the edge of the couch.
“What’s going on with her? I get the impression you know more than you’re telling.” His dad folded the newspaper and waited, his full attention on Gil. “If you’re worried you’ll upset me, don’t be. I feel fine.”
This was the moment Gil feared most — the moment when he would come clean about his past — get everything out in the open. He’d told Mattie. Now it was time to tell his dad. He needed to take this step in order to clear his conscience. Hopefully, it wouldn’t totally destroy their relationship. His palms dampened with sweat.
“Jenna has her reasons for behaving the way she does.” Gil wiped his hands on his jeans. “It started a long time ago, back before Frank died . . .”
GIL WAITED FOR HIS DAD TO SAY SOMETHING . . . ANYTHING TO LET him know he understood or even heard the words spoken the last twenty minutes. At this point, Gil didn’t care if his dad hollered in rage. He could deal with anger and frustration. Not silence.
The man twirled his thumbs. “You’ve kept that hidden all these years? I thought you left the hills because you hated us.”
“I’ve never hated you, Dad. All I ever wanted was your approval — to please you.” Gil clasped his hands together. “You don’t know how many times I longed to see that gleam in your eyes — the gleam you got when you looked at Frank.”
“Was I that bad? I know your mama always took a shine to you . . .” His dad’s lips quivered, his eyes downcast. “What happened to Frank wasn’t your fault. Not that I approve of what you and Jenna did, but you can’t know for sure that Frank would have let you drive his truck. If you’d been with him, I might have lost both my sons that night. I don’t blame you for his death, Gil. Neither should you.”
Gil knelt by his father’s recliner, the way he’d done as a boy, his eyes brimming with moisture.
“What about Mattie? Does she know all this?” His dad laid his hand on Gil’s shoulder.
“I told her last night, even admitted I loved her.” Gil sniffed back his emotion. “She didn’t take it so well.”
“I don’t suspect she did. Women are funny that way.”
He squeezed Gil’s neck and seemed at peace, despite everything Gil admitted. The two of them had never spoken so openly to one another, and Gil marveled at it all. “What about the ranch, Dad? You’ll have a difficult time running this place with your heart problems. I hate the thought of leaving you, right when things are starting to be good between us.”
“Then don’t leave. Stay here.” His dad reached for his glass of water on the end table.
“You know I want to buy that estate in California. It’s a beautiful home, with lots of space and shade. There’s even an indoor arena in the barn.” Gil stood, hoping to increase his courage. “I want to ask Mattie to marry me, and I’d like you to come with us,” he continued. “We can start all over. You can help with the horse operation and watch your grandkids grow up.”
His dad took a drink and coughed. “Mattie loves these hills. What’s she going to think about California?”
Gil shook his head. “It might take her a while to adjust, but she’ll have an easier time with you there. What do you say, Dad? Will you come to California?”
FORTY-EIGHT
MATTIE HUNCHED OVER HER DESK AT THE CLINIC. HER HEAD ACHED from thinking. What did Gil mean — decide who she trusted? At this moment, she wasn’t sure she could trust Gil or Jenna. And certainly not her own heart. Her little beagle traipsed into the room and nestled by her boots. She bent over and picked him up as he licked her hand.
“Why can’t everyone be like you?” Except for a few minor incidents when he’d chewed on her boots or some leather tack lying on the ground, the pup had been a perfect companion. Mild mannered, easy to talk to, and better than a pillow to cuddle at night. He didn’t argue, either, which made her appreciate him even more. She scratched behind his floppy ears until his hind foot thumped against her thigh.
The pup stared up at her with big brown eyes. “The world would be a better place if more people were like you.” She kissed his nose, and he licked her chin. Her phone chimed, and she set the beagle on the floor. She noted the caller ID on the digital display and groaned.
“Hi, Mom.” Mattie’s forced enthusiasm sounded less than convincing. “I guess you and Dad made it home okay after the wedding.”
“That’s why I’m calling.” Her mother’s voice resonated concern. “Your dad and I were worried about you. We saw you arguing with Gil last night. Is everything okay?”
Mattie squeezed her eyes shut. She’d caused a scene at the reception for all to discuss this morning. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t sound fine,” her mother said. “Your dad wondered if you’d like to come over. Have a late lunch with us tomorrow after church. Jenna’s going to be here. We c
an invite Bridgett and the kids, as well.”
The pup gnawed on the toe of her boot, and Mattie nudged him away. “I don’t know . . .” Although a part of her wanted to be closer to her parents, she didn’t care to see Jenna again so soon. “Can I get back to you, Mom? I’m pretty swamped at work right now.”
Swamped with worries.
“Sure, but we’d love to see you, Mattie. We never get a chance to talk anymore — you’re always so busy.” Her mother sighed on the other end, and Mattie’s irritation grew. “You know you can talk to us about anything.”
“I appreciate that, Mom. I’ll call you back as soon as I can.”
GIL STARED OUT THE LIVING ROOM WINDOW. IN THE DISTANCE, THE hills they’d burned earlier that week now hinted at buds of pea-green. “I know you love this place.” He glanced at his dad in the recliner. “I would never ask you to leave if I didn’t think it was best for all of us. We could put the ranch in a trust — come and visit whenever you wanted.”
His dad hung his head. “What good would a trust do?” His voice rumbled, thick and gravelly.
Gil returned to the couch and clasped his hands. “We could have an attorney draw up papers. Make provisions for a friend to run the place — maybe Jake, if he’d agree to it. It’s the safest way to ensure the land stays in the McCray family. Who knows, one of my kids or grandchildren might decide to live here some day.” His heart tugged inside his chest at the thought.
“If you ever have kids.” His father pushed himself up from the recliner. Cane in hand, he shuffled to the buffet cabinet where he pulled out a drawer in search of something. Minutes later, he returned with a black velvet box.
“You might try giving this to Mattie the next time you propose.” He handed it to Gil and made his way back to his recliner, short of breath. “Your mama would have wanted you to have it. She would have liked Mattie.”
Snow Melts in Spring Page 23
