“Mildred’s fixing some tea. Come up here and visit an old man for a few minutes. Have some tea with me.”
Ever since Gil’s proposal, Mattie had purposely steered clear of anyone in the house, fearing they’d want to talk about her and Gil. She knew she couldn’t avoid them forever. “Let me check in at the clinic; then I’ll be up in a few minutes.”
MATTIE SAT AT THE WROUGHT IRON TABLE ON THE VERANDA AND poured chamomile tea into two china cups. “I’m glad you’re letting Mildred take such good care of you.” She placed the teapot on the table and stirred the amber liquid in her cup.
“Tea in the morning reminds me of when Gil’s mama was alive.” John lifted the cup to his lips, the handle too small for his big fingers. “Gil tells me you turned down his offer to marry him.”
Mattie watched as an orange-bellied swallow worked to build a nest in the corner of the porch. “That’s right. If it’s all the same to you, though, I’d rather not talk about it.”
“I figure your mind’s made up.” He glanced at the roof and coughed. “Those pesky swallows. Always building their nests here instead of in the barn. I suppose they’ve been leaving messes on the porch ever since my great-granddad built the place.” John poked his cane at the birds.
“You don’t have to leave, you know.” Mattie felt compelled to discourage the man from moving from the only home he’d ever known.
“Gil wants me to.” He drank from his cup and when he finished his tea, he stared at her from across the table. “I know you love this place and these hills. You’ve been like a daughter to me these past few years.” He reached for her hand and rested his thick fingers on hers.
“I have a proposition for you. I want you to serve as the trustee for the Lightning M. Run your clinic here — make this your home. We can create a provision that when I die the land will go to you, as long as no heirs claim the ranch.”
Mattie blinked as she processed his words. John wanted to give her the ranch — seven thousand acres of prime grassland in the heart of the Flint Hills. “I can’t accept such a generous offer, John. It wouldn’t be fair to Gil.”
He squeezed her fingers. “Who else can I entrust with the job? Jake will manage the land and cattle as long as he’s able and will teach you everything you need to know for when he’s gone. Mildred, too, if you want her. If not, she’s mentioned moving to Houston to be closer to her grandkids.” He puckered his lips, and his eyes glazed with moisture. “I’d hoped to see my own grandchildren before I die, but I’ll have to be content with a new life with my son.”
Mattie’s throat constricted as the man wiped his eyes on a napkin. How could she agree to such a request? To live in the same house where Gil grew up? To surround herself with memories of him and to force herself to stay in touch? “Does Gil know about this?”
“It’s my land to do with as I please.”
She shook her head. It would be too painful. “I can’t do it.”
John nodded. “Think long and hard before you say no. You abandoned Gil for these hills. It’d be a shame for you to give them up as well . . . especially when they’re right here at your fingertips.”
LATE THAT EVENING, MATTIE PRESSED THE SPEED DIAL ON HER CELL phone, hoping she wouldn’t get the answering machine again.
She didn’t. This time her dad picked up.
“Hi, Daddy.” Her voice came out a soft whimper. “Can I come home? I need to talk to you.”
FIFTY-ONE
GIL SAT ON THE TOP RAIL OF DUSTY’S PEN AND STARED INTO THE moonlight. The fence work now complete, all that remained was packing his father’s belongings. Then he could get back to his life in California — and start getting over a certain lady veterinarian.
The first three truckloads of cattle would soon ship to their pastures for summer grazing, but by then, he and his dad should be gone. Jake and two hired hands would serve as pasturemen for the season. Every detail had been attended to, including assigning Mattie as trustee for the ranch — if she agreed.
He rubbed the muscles of his neck, which ached from long hours of building fence. It boggled his mind that his dad asked Mattie to serve as custodian, but he guessed it made sense. She would stay on at the ranch, and he would leave.
You’re still running.
Mattie’s accusation haunted him. He remembered the morning he’d wrestled with the bull when she’d called him a coward. Nearly a month had passed since he’d proposed to her, and other than a brief hello at church on Sundays, the two of them hadn’t spoken. His heart ached for her, but what could he do? She was too stubborn to see that he couldn’t live here.
Or was he really a coward?
The shuffling sound of boots in the grass prompted him to glance behind into the darkness.
“I thought it might be you out here.” Jake came up beside him and rested his arms on the top rail. A full moon shown above and cast an ethereal glow on the old man and his cowboy hat.
“Am I wrong to take Dad from this land?” Gil asked.
Jake spit a stream of tobacco to the ground. “You really wanna know what I think?”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”
“Seems to me you’re carrying a world of hurt inside you. Been carrying it a lot of years now. For some reason, these hills don’t offer you the medicine they do for others. Don’t know why, exactly.”
“You believe I’m running too?”
“There are those who love these hills, and those who can’t wait to get away.” Dusty came up to the fence, and Jake reached out to pet the horse’s nose. “When I first started work here, I remember a youngster who couldn’t wait to go outside and help his dad, whether that meant mucking stalls in the barn or working cattle in the pasture. That boy wanted to throw a rope and ride his pony, eager for the day and mad at night when his mama made him come in for a bath and supper.” The ranch hand grinned, his smile lit by the moonlight.
“He once told me he’d never leave this ranch — couldn’t pry him from it with a fence post,” Jake added. “You’re all grown up now, but I reckon that boy’s inside you yet.”
Gil zoomed back to the days of his youth, before Jenna, before they lost Frank, to a time when he’d been content following his dad through the many chores on the ranch. He remembered his mama wrapping her arms around him after they’d said their bedtime prayers, and then there was Frank, the big brother Gil looked up to and whose footsteps he wanted to follow.
He closed his eyes and let himself remember.
THE NEXT AFTERNOON, MATTIE SAT ON HER PARENTS’ TERRACE WITH her father, having left Travis in charge of her patients for the entire weekend.
“It’s going to be nice having you here,” he said. “We’ve been worried about you, Mattie girl. You sounded quite upset last night when you called.”
Mattie’s face heated, embarrassed at her display of emotion.
He stretched his arm along the back of the gliding bench, and Mattie rested her head against it. She gazed at her mother’s patio flowers — irises and pansies in a multitude of colors.
“Come on, talk to me. What’s troubling you? Does it have anything to do with the fight you had with that fellow of yours?”
“You could say that.” Mattie closed her eyes and prayed for the right words to tell her father. She wanted to share with him everything she’d been going through, but at the same time, she didn’t want to hurt him.
“Jenna seemed to think you might still be upset with us for moving to the city.” He lifted his arm from her neck and straightened in the metal glider. “Is that part of it?”
Mattie turned to him and noted the new wrinkles on his face, the lines at the corner of his gray eyes. “I wish you lived closer — that we were closer.”
Her father nodded. “I’ve blamed myself a hundred times for not trying harder to keep the home place or resettle there. Your mother has too. But we can’t undo our mistakes . . . I’m not sure we would if we had the chance. You have to understand that times were hard for us then.”
“I think I’m beginning to understand how complicated things can become,” she said. All her life, Mattie considered the Flint Hills her home, her destiny, especially after her parents lost their ranch. Owning property there — getting back the land they’d lost had become her obsession.
Now that she had the chance to make that dream a reality, the thought didn’t hold as much satisfaction as it once had. “I’m so confused,” she said, then proceeded to tell about Gil’s deception and proposal, and John’s offer to let her oversee the Lightning M.
“Sounds like you’ve got quite a predicament.” Her dad scratched his thinning hair. “You know I can’t tell you what to do. People make mistakes — some worse than others. I’m sure Gil regrets that he wasn’t upfront with you from the start. As for the land, your mom and I made a decision to leave Charris County. I won’t lie to you — there are days when my heart aches for the smooth feel of leather reins in my hands, or for the pungent smell of freshly mown prairie hay. But we’ve adjusted. We made ourselves a new home and life.” He offered her a reticent smile. “I traded my cowboy boots in for a pair of loafers.”
Mattie nudged his thick waist. “You still wear your boots to church. I’ve seen you.”
He shrugged. “True, but I’ve discovered loafers can fit comfortably too. Know what I mean, Mattie? The point is, your mom and I loved each other through all those hard years, and we made another life work for us. In the end, the land won’t keep you warm at night.”
His last statement rang inside Mattie’s head. She’d heard similar words from John. But still . . . to trade the simplicity of Kansas for California and give Gil her heart? She didn’t know if she could take such a leap of faith.
ON A MISSION TO PUT TO REST THE BAD MEMORIES AND REPLACE them with a few good ones, Gil drove past Miller’s pond where he and his buddies fished for crawdads and frogs. He revisited the rodeo grounds where Frank and he roped steers, and even spent some time at the football stadium. When he’d reminisced enough, he turned onto a winding dirt road through the Flint Hills, passing over several pasture guards until he finally arrived at the edge of Emporia.
Prompted to visit the Marshall boy again, to see if his recovery had been as good as Dusty’s, Gil pulled into the parking lot of the hospital and turned off the diesel engine. A receptionist at the front desk gave Gil directions to the rehabilitation unit where he’d heard Dillon was receiving further care. He headed for the elevators and eventually found the teen in the rehab dining hall sitting in a wheelchair. When he approached the boy’s table, the attendant stood to offer Gil his seat.
Dillon looked up, and his lips formed into a lopsided grin. “Didn’t think I’d see you again, Mr. McCray.”
Gil took the chair opposite the boy. “Me neither. And please call me Gil. Mr. McCray sounds so old,” he teased, then latched onto an extra straw on the table, trying not to notice the deep scars on the boy’s face. “How are you doing?”
Dillon looked down at his motionless legs. “I’m learning to get around. Me and another boy race the halls.”
“That’s cool.” Gil struggled with the awkwardness, not sure what to say next. Why’d he even come?
“How ’bout you?” Dillon asked, his words slightly slurred. “How’s your horse?”
Gil tore the paper from the straw and tied it into a knot. “Dusty’s good. I’m good.”
“Don’t you live in California?”
The boy’s sharp memory surprised Gil. “I had some things I needed to take care of here on my dad’s ranch.”
Dillon took a bite of his lasagna, then shoved the plate to the side. “I’ve thought a lot about what you said when you were here before. Got lots of time to think now.”
Gil forced a smile.
“I’ve been reading the Bible.” Dillon placed his hands on the side of his chair and pushed the wheels backward. “Come on, I have something I want to show you.”
Gil followed Dillon down the hall to his room. The football he’d given him sat on the windowsill and a game show blared from a television high on the wall. The teen went straight to a Bible that lay on his nightstand.
“I killed my friend,” Dillon said. “I have to live with that. You wished you could have saved your brother. I know what guilt can do — I feel it every day.” He opened the Bible, then thumbed through the onionskin pages to a passage in the middle, marked by a red ribbon.
“People tell me I need to forgive myself, so I can go on.” The boy’s voice shook with irritation. “Why do they say that? Who am I to forgive myself?” He punched a button on the remote control and the television screen went blank. The only sound in the room now came from Dillon’s wheezing breath, and the thumping pulse in Gil’s neck.
“Forgiveness is important.” Gil hoped to calm the boy — make him feel better. “Without it, we’d be lost.”
“But I didn’t just sin against myself, I sinned against God. This book showed me that.” He searched the open page until his finger landed on a verse. “Here, look what else I found.”
He handed the Bible to Gil, and Gil read the verses he indicated. “The Lord is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love.”
The boy pointed further down the page. “According to this, God won’t be angry at me forever. He won’t blame me for the awful things I’ve done — as long as I’m truly sorry.”
Dillon took the Bible in his hands and laid it on his lap. “I’m not the smartest kid in my class. But I know who my Savior is. And I know that I’m forgiven.”
He stared down at his lap and began reading. “As far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us.” His voice grew hoarser with every word spoken. “As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him; for he knows how we are formed, he remembers that we are dust.”
“As for man, his days are like grass . . .” Gil finished the familiar passage, the same verse he’d recited to his dad.
It was as though Gil understood the words for the very first time.
FIFTY-TWO
“THEY’RE LETTING ME GO HOME TOMORROW,” DILLON SAID AFTER THE two had talked for over an hour. “I’d give anything to go to the high school rodeo this weekend in Diamond Falls. But Dad won’t let me. Says it’d be too much of a strain.”
During their visit, Gil learned that Dillon had team roped, and that he’d been good with a horse. An idea began to form. “What if I could arrange for you to go? Would you be willing to speak in front of your peers? Admit to them what you told me tonight?”
The boy nodded. “If it might keep one of my friends from making the stupid mistake I made, you bet I would.”
Gil calculated the steps needed to accomplish what he had in mind. He fingered the smooth face of the watch in his pocket. There just might be enough time to put his plan into motion.
Forty minutes later, Gil pulled off the side of the road at an abandoned homestead and picked a handful of purple iris. He had one more stop to make before going home. The sweet scent of the spring flowers filled the truck cab as he drove to the cemetery. He followed the path to the stone markers and knelt beside his mother’s grave.
“I’m sorry, Mama, for not telling you good-bye.” He laid the flowers on the granite rock. “I wish you could’ve met Mattie. She’s so much like you — I think you would have approved.”
He fingered the smooth marble, then turned to Frank’s grave. “And you, big brother. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you the night you died. I made a lot of mistakes back then, but that’s the one I hate the most — that and what I did with Jenna.” Gil looked toward the setting sun and raised his voice to God, his mouth praying the verses he’d read.
“Search me and know my heart, Lord. Do not harbor your anger toward me forever. As far as the east is from the west, so far have you removed my transgressions from me. I believe it, Lord. Help me believe it.”
Once the words were out, an immense burden lifted from Gil�
��s chest. For the first time in twenty years he felt truly free — free to live the life God wanted him to live. He lifted himself from the moist ground, and as he did so, the metal timepiece in his pocket seemed to weigh him down. Knowing then what needed to be done, Gil reached into his jeans and pulled out the silver watch his coach had given him in California.
“Coach, I know you’d understand my reason for passing this on,” he murmured and laid the watch on Frank’s gravestone, no longer needing to keep track of the time.
“I’M GOING TO MISS THESE HILLS,” HIS DAD SAID THE NEXT MORNING as the two of them stood out on the veranda. The sun peeked over the eastern horizon and cast a warm yellow glow over the land.
“No, you won’t,” Gil assured him and squeezed the man’s shoulders. “Why don’t you and Jake go into town and have breakfast at the café. I have plenty here to keep me busy.” He searched the barnyard for Mattie’s truck. “You haven’t seen the doc this morning, have you?”
“Ain’t seen her since Thursday.” His father’s lips twisted into an ornery grin. “You gonna talk to her again?”
Gil let the question slide. “I’ll send Jake to pick you up so the two of you can catch up on all the news in town. Wouldn’t want you to miss out on this week’s highlights.”
“The only talk this week will be about our leaving,” his dad said. “Guess now’s as good a time as any to say good-bye.”
Gil patted his father’s shoulders. “It won’t be so bad, you’ll see,” he said, then headed down the steps for Mattie’s cabin.
When he knocked on her door, she wasn’t there.
He searched the clinic.
Upon finding it empty, he walked out to check Dusty’s water. The chestnut nickered and met Gil at the trough. Gil smoothed his hand over the gelding’s back and hindquarters. His chest and front legs were healing well, and the scars on Dusty’s face had turned a shiny black.
Snow Melts in Spring Page 25
