A Family in Wyoming

by Lynnette Kent

  The pistol poked into his side as he walked beside Travis Bradley, down the hill to the empty house. They were almost out of time.

  At the front steps, Wyatt paused, noting the dust cloud approaching on the drive from the front gate.

  Travis shoved the pistol more firmly into his ribs. “Go on.” Then he followed Wyatt’s line of sight. “What’s that?”

  “The sheriff, I imagine,” Wyatt said.

  Swearing, Bradley pulled Susannah toward the blue truck. “Get in. Come on.”

  “You’ll never make it,” Wyatt told him. “The sheriff’s got at least three cars with him. Give it up, Travis.”

  “No way.” Now he had Susannah in front of him, his arm around her waist, the gun shaking at her temple. “They’ll let us through. They’ll have to.”

  Wyatt’s guts curdled inside him, but he kept his voice calm. “They won’t, and you’ll end up dead. Or in jail for the rest of your life. Is that what you want, Travis? Are you ready to throw everything away? You’ve got a choice here. Make the right one.”

  Bradley squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them as three sheriff’s vehicles slid to a stop behind the blue truck, dust billowing around them. Coming up behind, Ford pulled his truck off to the side and the sheriff jumped out. Doors opened on the other cars and eight deputies got out, weapons drawn.

  “Put the gun down,” Wade Daughtrey ordered. “Let her go, Travis, and lower your weapon.”

  All at once, Bradley wilted. Shoulders slumped, head hanging, he lowered the pistol. His arm fell away from Susannah’s waist. The deputies started forward.

  In the next second, Wyatt was there to draw her free and wrap her in his arms. “You’re okay,” he murmured against her hair. “You’re okay.”

  She pushed back far enough to gaze up at him. “You’re okay,” she said. “I was terrified when he pointed that gun at you.”

  He managed a half smile. “I know the feeling.”

  Dylan joined them. “Glad things shook out alright. I was betting on you to jump him, Boss.”

  “Thought about it,” Wyatt said. “Didn’t want to hurt my back.” He watched as Travis was led away in handcuffs. Susannah kept her face averted. “Maybe we should go inside,” he said quietly. “Let you sit down.”

  As they crossed the porch, though, she gasped. “Amber is probably scared to death. I didn’t explain, just pushed her inside...the kids wanted snacks...”

  “The kids won’t starve.” Wyatt opened the screen door. “And Dylan will walk Amber down here.”

  “Consider it done.” Dylan took off up the hill.

  Susannah’s pale face finally regained its color when she sat on the sofa with her daughter in her lap. “I’m fine,” she assured Amber. “Everything is going to be just fine.”

  Standing across the room, Wyatt recognized the shift that had happened inside him during the last hour, a newly awakened appreciation of life’s possibilities. The ranch, the land and its animals, would always be a constant in his world. His love for his brothers and the families they created would never wane.

  But living meant changing, and changing required choices. He could spend his life as he had for years now—trudging through the days, meeting his responsibilities with dedication but little joy.

  Or he could accept the happiness that had blossomed when Susannah Bradley walked into his life. Did he deserve it? Maybe not. Concluding that he was willing to deal with the uncertainty, Wyatt could only be grateful for the opportunity and make the most of it.

  If she agreed, of course. He still believed she should be able to choose the kind of future she wanted. Whatever she decided, he would abide by.

  Until he could figure out how to change her mind.

  * * *

  BECKY WOKE UP on Friday and went to look out the front window. “No! It can’t rain today!”

  Lizzie came to stand beside her. “We can’t have the dance in the rain. And we can’t postpone it—we’re going home tomorrow.”

  Lena was in the kitchen, giving herself her morning insulin shot. “Maybe it will stop. Just because it’s raining now doesn’t mean it’ll go on all day. The storm could blow over.”

  But the rain continued, sometimes in sprinkles, sometimes pouring down. Becky spent the morning with Ms. Susannah, Amber and Nate in the kitchen at the ranch house, making oatmeal cookies and chopping vegetables while listening to the patter of water on the roof. Everybody was depressed at lunch, complaining about the weather and the start of school in just a few days. Underneath it all was the awareness that this was the last day of camp, something nobody seemed happy about. The shirts they’d painted hung on the walls of the living room, reminders of the fun they expected to have. Would they even get to wear them?

  They’d planned to set up for the dance in the afternoon. But instead, they all went to the barn and sat around on the hay bales, watching water fall from the sky.

  “This sucks,” Thomas said. “We might as well go home today.”

  “We can at least have a fire in the ranch house tonight,” Lizzie told him. “And sing songs and make s’mores at the fireplace. That’ll be better than leaving.”

  “We did a bonfire this week already at the creek,” Marcos reminded her, “and made s’mores. Tonight was gonna be different.”

  Lena nodded. “Tonight was going to be special.”

  “Why couldn’t we have the dance anyway?” Nate asked in his quiet voice.

  They all stared at him and Thomas said, “You want to do a rain dance, go ahead.”

  “Where are we?” Nate glanced around and held up his arms. “What’s wrong with having it here?”

  Marcus snorted. “We’re gonna dance on top of the hay bales?” A pile of at least a hundred bales occupied the center of the open area.

  “We were going to move them outside anyway,” Nate pointed out. “We could stack them against the walls and give ourselves room. It’s a big space.”

  “We’ll have to ask the grown-ups,” Becky said. “But I bet they’ll say yes. And they could even put up the lights we were going to use inside. We could have the dance in spite of the rain.” She looked at Nate and grinned. “You’re a hero.”

  He rolled his eyes. “It was pretty obvious, if you thought about it for a minute. So where’s a grown-up we can talk to?”

  They trooped through the rain to the ranch house, where they found Mr. Wyatt, Mr. Garrett and Mr. Dylan in the dining room, having some sort of meeting that involved papers spread all over the table. Mr. Ford and Ms. Caroline had gone into town for work this morning.

  “Sorry to bother you.” Nate had somehow become the speaker for the group. “We were just wondering...” He explained his idea. “We’ll move all the bales ourselves. If that’s okay.”

  The three brothers shared a quick glance. “Sounds like the right solution,” Mr. Wyatt said. “One of us should have come up with it.”

  Mr. Dylan nodded. “As soon as they let me loose here, I’ll be out to help.” He made one of his comical frowns. “Ranch paperwork is not my specialty.”

  “Mine neither.” Mr. Garrett straightened a stack of paper in front of him. “I’ll be there when we’re finished. Before sundown, I hope.” He grinned at Mr. Wyatt, who only shook his head.

  The rain didn’t let up, but somehow the day became brighter as they headed back to the barn and set to work. At the beginning of the summer, moving hay had seemed like work, but today they all laughed as they dismantled the big stack in the center of the floor and arranged the bales along the walls. Marcos and Thomas could lift the heavy blocks higher than anyone else, so they worked at the top till the rows were about five bales high. Lizzie was a little bit of a wimp about the process, but she and Lena together managed to move their share. By the time Mr. Dylan, Mr. Garrett and Mr. Wyatt appeared, the center of the barn
was empty. And not only empty, but swept free of loose hay, thanks to Nate and Becky.

  Hands on her hips, Lizzie smiled as she looked around. “Now there’s room to dance!”

  By the end of the afternoon, strings of lights stretched around their new “dance hall,” as they started calling it, and long tables were set up for the food. Couches made of hay bales lined the walls, separated by tables also made of bales. Mr. Dylan brought over his music system so Lizzie could plug in her phone, filling the barn with sound. Ms. Susannah had gone to Casper and come back with a truck full of helium-filled balloons in the same colors as the paint they’d used on their shirts—bright red, white, green and blue. The balloons floated to the ceiling, their colored ribbon tails hanging down and blowing in the breeze that came through the barn door. Green tablecloths went over the tables, with green plates and cups to match.

  “Grass-green for your make-believe horses,” Ms. Susannah said. She’d also brought them all a snack of cheese and crackers and orange slices. “You have to last until seven for dinner. When the dance starts.”

  With everything done, they all just stood for a minute, staring.

  “Look what we did,” Becky said.

  “Pretty amazing,” Nate agreed. “I never dreamed it would turn out so well.”

  Marcos was in a good mood, for once. “The best dance I’ve ever been to.”

  Thomas gave him a shove. “You’ve never been to a dance.”

  “Hey.” Marcos shoved the other boy back. “That’s what I said.”

  The rest of them groaned, and left the barn to get themselves ready.

  Becky thought they might look weird when they all returned to the barn—the extra-big shirts decorated with the painted symbols were not your usual party outfits. They’d made shirts for the grown-ups, as well, so all of them were dressed as their favorite horse—Mr. Garrett in black, Mr. Dylan in black spots on white for his Appaloosa, Leo, Mr. Wyatt and Amber in dappled white on black, and Mr. Ford and Ms. Caroline in gold for their palominos. Ms. Susannah wore pure white, for Caesar when he turned gray, she said. “When he’s an old man.”

  So, okay, maybe it wasn’t the most fashionable dance ever. But their outfits connected them all in a way that nice clothes wouldn’t. Like the horses they’d been riding all summer, they’d become a herd, depending on each other for protection, for survival. They hadn’t always gotten along, but they’d stuck together. That was a pretty big deal.

  Becky’s shirt had brown spots, like Desi the Appaloosa. Or like her freckles. Even a few weeks ago, she wouldn’t have been comfortable drawing attention to herself that way. She would have remembered her mother’s taunts and tried to avoid the whole idea.

  But Desi’s spots were beautiful. And, she’d learned, her freckles were not something to be ashamed of. Managed, maybe, with a little makeup, but she was who she was—a barrel racer, a party planner, and, most important, a loyal friend. When she went home, she would use the memories of this summer to guard her heart and soul.

  For right now, though, the music was playing loud and Lena and Justino were already dancing. Thomas and Marcos had filled their plates and were sitting on one of the hay-bale sofas, eating.

  “Boys,” Lizzie said with disgust. “As if we came here to stuff our faces.”

  “Well, it is dinnertime.” Becky’s stomach growled. “I’m kind of hungry, myself.” Besides, who would dance with her? Nate had helped Amber get some food and was sitting with her as she ate. “Might as well join the crowd.”

  As she edged her way around the dance floor, Mr. Dylan stopped her. “Will you dance with me?”

  She stared at him. “Why?”

  “I like to dance. And you’re right here.” He tilted his head. “Are you too cool to dance with a grown-up?”

  “Um... I guess not.” A little embarrassed, she moved out into the open, away from Lena and Justino. When she turned to face Mr. Dylan, he was already dancing.

  He was good, too, but not in an old person’s style at all. He moved like the guys on TV. Then Mr. Garrett and Dr. Rachel came onto the floor, followed by Mr. Ford and Ms. Caroline. With so many people around her having a good time, Becky stopped being self-conscious and joined in the fun. Maybe Nate would get the hint?

  She and Mr. Dylan danced through three or four songs before they agreed they were ready for something to eat. Then, just as she finished her food, Marcos walked up.

  “I’ll dance with you, if you want to,” he said, avoiding meeting her eyes.

  Becky had to laugh. “Is that an invitation?”

  Now he glared directly at her. “What else? Do you want to?”

  “Sure, Marcos. I’ll dance with you.” As she went to throw her plate away, she saw Thomas still sitting with Lizzie. He was sulking, saying nothing, while she leaned toward him, talking.

  “What are they arguing about?” she asked Marcos as they faced each other out on the floor.

  “He won’t dance.” Marcos shrugged. “She’s pretty mad about it.”

  Poor Lizzie. “Can’t you convince him?”

  Marcos gave her a disbelieving stare. “Why would he listen to me, of all people?”

  “You could give it a try,” she told him. Marcos just rolled his eyes.

  After a couple more songs, Ms. Caroline turned down the volume on the music. Standing beside the sound system, she held up her hand. “Now seems like a good time for the apple-bobbing contest. We’ve got a big bucket over there filled with water and apples. The contestant who can pick up the most apples—without their hands—in two minutes will be the winner. We’ve got a special T-shirt as a prize—a Buffalo Youth Rodeo shirt signed by all of us who’ve been here at camp with you this summer.”

  Lizzie stood up and came into the center of the floor. “There’s also a secret prize,” she announced. “The kids all know what it is. Go for it, guys.”

  With a surprised expression on her face, Caroline nodded. “Let’s get started. Who goes first?”

  Marcos stepped up. “I’ll do it.” He went to the bucket and knelt down, his hands behind his back. The rest of the kids gathered around.

  Mr. Ford held up a stopwatch. “Ready, set, go.”

  Watching Marcos try to bite an apple in the water was as funny as they’d thought it would be. His hair got soaked right away, along with his shoulders and the neck of his shirt. Every time he tried to grab an apple, it popped away from him. He growled, and went after another one, without success.

  “Done!” Mr. Ford said. “Sorry about that, Marcos. Who’s next?”

  Justino raised his hand. “I’ll go.” He winked at Lena. “Get ready.”

  But his luck was no better than Marcos’s, and he ended the two minutes without grabbing an apple. When he went to stand by Lena, she whispered something in his ear and he grinned.

  “Any of you girls going to try this?” Mr. Ford asked. “It’s not just for the boys.”

  “Too messy,” Lizzie said, and Becky nodded. She’d worked too hard on her braid to ruin it.

  Lena pulled her hair back behind her shoulder. “I’m not getting wet.”

  “Then Thomas, I guess it’s your turn. Step right up.”

  He hesitated, and Lizzie gave him a little shove, pushing him toward the bucket. With a roll of his eyes he stepped forward and then got down on his knees. “I hope it’s worth it,” he muttered.

  “Go!”

  Thomas dove into the bucket and came up almost right away with an apple in his teeth. As the crowd around him clapped, he twisted around and dropped it on the floor, and then he went back in but couldn’t snag another one.

  “One’s better than none,” he bragged, getting to his feet. “I’m feeling like that’s a win.”

  “We’ve got one more contestant to go,” Mr. Ford said. “Come on, Nate.”

 
The cloudy day made the barn darker than usual, and, even with the lights strung around the walls, the glow-in-the-dark paint they’d used on their shirts had really started to show up. Nate came toward the bucket, his grayish-blue shirt painted with broken arrows, the symbol of peace; feathers, meaning power; and the box-within-a-box sign, which signaled good luck in hunting. Kneeling in front of the bucket, he took a deep breath.

  Mr. Ford said, “Go!”

  Instead of splashing down, Nate went in gently, staying above the surface of the water, and he got an apple almost right away. Now he and Thomas were tied.

  “A minute left,” Mr. Ford announced.

  Nate stayed with his method but wasn’t getting lucky. He straightened up, pulled in another breath and went back for one more try.

  Mr. Ford started counting down the seconds. “Eight, seven, six...”

  “You can do it, Nate,” Amber yelled.

  And with two seconds left, he did, raising his head with the apple in his mouth.

  Thomas scowled, but everybody else cheered. Nate dropped the apple and got to his feet, grinning.

  “Here’s your shirt,” Ms. Caroline held up a red T-shirt with signatures of all the grown-ups on it in black. “Congratulations. But what’s this about a secret prize?”

  “That’s right.” Lizzie went to stand beside Nate, smoothing down her hair. “We decided the winner gets to kiss the girl of his choice.” She smiled at the boy next to her. “Who will that be, I wonder?”

  “I don’t know about this—” Mr. Wyatt said.

  Nate could kiss Lizzie—she obviously expected him to. But Becky couldn’t imagine him embarrassing himself in front of everyone like that. She figured he would take the easy way out and give his sister a kiss, since her shout had urged him on. That was the kind of thing he would do.

  So she was looking at Amber and didn’t realize he had moved...until he stood right in front of her.

  “Hey,” he said.

  She frowned at him. “What are you doing?”

  He put his hands on her shoulders. “This.”

  And he leaned forward and kissed her on the lips.