The Last Ranch

by Michael McGarrity

  Patrick shook his head and dropped his feet to the floor. “I didn’t think to ask. You hungry?”

  Matt shook his head.

  “I’m gonna fix me some grub,” Patrick said. He plodded off to the kitchen.

  Matt stayed alone on the veranda until he finally figured it out. One way or the other, starting with the death of his mother, all the women in his life who cared about him eventually vanished. He decided it had to be a curse.

  6

  Several weeks passed before Matt received another letter from Anna Lynn: a chatty note about all the headaches she’d faced helping Danette—who wasn’t a very well-organized person—prepare for the move to California, how excited they all were to see the Pacific Ocean, and how Ginny had eagerly taken on the role of big sister to her little cousin Joshua, reading him stories and entertaining him while Anna Lynn and Danette packed, sorted, and cleaned in anticipation of the move. She made no mention of when she planned to come home.

  Matt expected to hear from her again upon their arrival in California, but when a month passed with no further word, he drove to Mountain Park hoping she might have been in recent touch with some of her neighbors. Nobody had heard from her, and her mail at the post office had piled up. At the farmhouse, Matt got the spare key from under the porch step and took a look inside. Everything was neat and tidy as she’d left it, just dusty from the wind that found its way through cracks in the walls and window frames. Her truck, parked behind the house, was undisturbed as well. He left feeling both a little worried and a little put out by her careless disregard of their friendship, which remained at least that, if nothing more.

  He’d also hoped for a letter from Raine Hartman and was disappointed by her silence. Maybe their overnight fling didn’t warrant any acknowledgment other than a goodbye hug and a peck on the cheek in a hotel hallway, but Matt wouldn’t have minded more. At the ranch he shared his frustration about women with Patrick.

  He snorted and said, “Hell, boy, you’re better with the ladies than I ever was.”

  “True, but that doesn’t mean I understand them at all.”

  Patrick grimaced slightly at Matt’s cut. “Give it time before you start fretting. Truth be told, I surely miss Anna Lynn and that little dickens of hers. They sure beat your company by a mile.”

  “And yours as well,” Matt retorted as he put on his spurs. The truck hired to take the ponies to auction in Fort Worth was due in the morning. He wanted to move the stock he’d cut out for shipment from the pasture to the corral, where he’d feed and water them overnight.

  Patrick rose from his chair. “I’ll get Ribbon saddled and go with you.”

  “No need.”

  “I’ll come along anyway,” Patrick announced, unwilling to miss out on a last goodbye to the ponies.

  The two men rode out and silently brought the herd into the corral, chasing down a few frisky colts that needed to be coaxed along. The following day, the 7-Bar-K would be out of the horse business, maybe forever, and it was a sad prospect to consider. Neither man wanted to talk about it, but the pastures were so poor that in spite of a normal monsoon season the land couldn’t carry both cattle and horses.

  They watered and fed the ponies, staying at the corral until the animals quieted down for the night. In the barn, they unsaddled their horses and gave them a good wipe-down and bag of oats before jingling their spurs into the house, where a cold meal of bacon, biscuits, and soggy gravy left over from breakfast awaited them.

  Feeling as stale as the slice of bacon he munched, Matt remembered the time not so long ago when he saw himself running the best cutting horse outfit in the West, supplying rodeo cowboys and ranchers with top ponies with proven bloodlines. It would have given him a life larger than the 7-Bar-K. He’d be traveling to auctions to buy breeding stock, making the rounds to visit ranch managers and owners at larger spreads throughout the west, attending regional and national rodeos to sell to the promoters and stockmen who produced the events. He’d once thought it possible, but not anymore, leastways not until peace, prosperity, and wet weather returned in significant amounts.

  If he could only figure out a way to go back to college, maybe get a degree in animal husbandry or range management. If he expected to keep the 7-Bar-K, he needed something that could earn him a dependable living besides ranching. He couldn’t see parting with the ranch, so something had to change.

  Matt eyed Patrick. The years were telling on him more and more. As long as the old man drew a breath and kept his senses, he’d never want to live anywhere else. Keeping Patrick happy on the land he loved, taking care of the ranch and livestock, and at the same time going back to school seemed almost like an impossibility. Maybe he was stuck on the basin for the duration.

  He shook off doldrums that were sneaking up on him. There were a lot worse places—Sicily, for one—and not as many beautiful and soul-filling spots on the good Earth as the Tularosa.

  ***

  Fall works kept Matt occupied. When he’d finished gathering his cattle and culling the herd, he jumped right in and helped Al Jennings do the same. He left Al in good shape, gave a hand to Earl Hightower, and then worked with Preston McDonald, Billy’s father, to gather some of his strays scattered across the Jornada, west of the Oscura Mountains. The long grueling days and hard work kept Matt fully occupied. He especially enjoyed having his mind clear of anything other than the tasks at hand. It didn’t matter that September had turned blistering hot; getting cows to market trumped having the juices sucked out of you every day, sunup to sundown.

  Patrick had lent a hand at the 7-Bar-K works and was about to do the same at Al’s Rocking J Ranch when the check from the sale of the ponies arrived in the mail. Instead, Matt put him in charge of overseeing the construction of a new well, installing a holding tank for gravity-fed water to the house, and building an indoor bathroom, complete with tub and toilet.

  Patrick had groused about being left out of all the fun during fall works, but gratefully took on the new assignment. He simply didn’t have the staying power to spend sixteen hours in the saddle or behind the wheel of a truck chasing cows. Although he didn’t do a spit of work for his neighbors, he was invited to all the feeds they put on to thank the hands and celebrate the end of the selling season, where he was feted for being one of few surviving old-time Tularosa pioneers. Growing old was no damn fun, but getting a few minutes of royal treatment from friends and neighbors pleased and tickled him.

  On his trips to buy materials and supplies and hire all the men needed for the work on the ranch house, he always made a swing by Anna Lynn’s locked and shuttered place hoping to find her home. He was starting to think she wasn’t ever coming back. He’d stopped talking about her prolonged absence to Matt, who had taken to turning away at the mere mention of her name.

  In October the heat wave broke and the nights got cold. One afternoon, Matt was in the barn, looking after Stony, an old packhorse who had thrown a shoe and come up lame. In the kitchen, Patrick poked embers in the cookstove to get a fire going to fix some grub for dinner. The sound of a vehicle brought him to the veranda. He whooped with pleasure at the unexpected sight of Anna Lynn and Ginny climbing out of her truck. A tall, middle-aged Mexican fella was with them. Ginny screamed his name and flew up the stairs into his outstretched arms.

  “By God, you’re almost all grown up,” he said, twirling Ginny around in his arms.

  “I know,” Ginny giggled. “We’re gonna live in California.”

  Patrick planted Ginny on the floor. “Is that a fact?”

  Ginny nodded. “Forever.”

  “I’ll be,” Patrick said, amazed and disheartened.

  “Hello, Patrick,” Anna Lynn said as she approached. The Mexican didn’t follow.

  Patrick smiled to hide the shock of what he’d just heard. “Here I’ve been missing the sight of you two, and from what Ginny just told me, I’m gonna have to get
used to it permanently.”

  Anna Lynn smiled with regret. “I’m afraid that’s true. I came to tell you and Matt in person. Is he here?”

  To Patrick’s eye, she looked a little worn down. He nodded at Matt, who’d stepped out of the barn. “He’s coming. Who’s the Mexican with you?”

  Without answering, Anna Lynn turned to face Matt, her expression empty of pleasure. She remained silent as Ginny dashed down the veranda steps and gave him a big hug.

  Tugged along by Ginny, Matt approached. He stopped in front of Anna Lynn, pointedly looked back at the man standing next to her truck, and said flatly, “What a surprise.”

  “They’re moving away for good,” Patrick said before Anna Lynn could react. It earned him a stern look.

  “That’s true,” she said, searching Matt’s face for a reaction.

  “Who’s the guy?” Matt asked.

  “Alejandro.”

  “Just Alejandro?”

  Anna Lynn’s back stiffened. “What else do you need to know about him?”

  Matt shrugged. “Whatever you want to tell me.”

  “He’s here for Peaches. He’ll take her to California for us. That’s if she’s still Ginny’s pony.”

  Patrick’s jaw clamped shut before he answered. “That wasn’t called for. I gave Peaches to Ginny free and clear and you know it.”

  Her words came in a rush. “I’m sorry, you’re right. It was a stupid thing to say.” She glanced remorsefully from Patrick to Matt.

  “No harm done,” Patrick replied, warming a mite. “Come in and sit a spell.”

  “Stay for supper,” Matt added, with a nod toward Alejandro.

  Anna Lynn hesitated. “No, no thanks. We need to get going. Alejandro will help you load Peaches.”

  “You folks will have to wait a while,” Matt said. “I have to bring her in from the pasture.”

  “Can I come?” Ginny asked.

  Matt nodded and took Ginny’s hand. “Sure you can. Help me saddle up and we’ll go fetch her. You can ride her home bareback.”

  Ginny stomped her feet in delight. “Let’s go, let’s go.”

  “I’ll put a fresh pot on while we’re waiting.” Patrick gestured at Alejandro and invited him in Spanish to come inside and have some coffee. He didn’t move until Anna Lynn nodded her approval.

  ***

  Matt hoisted Ginny up, put her in front of him on the saddle, and trotted his pony out to the pasture. He knew exactly where Peaches liked to laze about in the evening and took a roundabout way to her location in order to give Ginny a chance to talk. Because Ginny was so excited about reuniting with Peaches, he didn’t get a lot of specifics about why Anna Lynn was leaving Mountain Park, other than some elderly relative had died and left his California farm to Anna Lynn and her sisters. From what Matt knew about the family, he figured it had to have been the bachelor uncle who’d lived on a farm outside Modesto in the San Joaquin Valley.

  When he asked Ginny if she liked Alejandro, she simply shrugged, said he was nice, and that he sometimes stayed with them in California. Matt didn’t need to hear more.

  He found Peaches, put a bridle on her, gave Ginny a leg up, and watched her break into a big, beautiful smile as she loped away on her pony. After Ginny had a good twenty-minute ride, he cajoled her into returning to the ranch house, where he learned that Anna Lynn and her sisters had indeed inherited their uncle’s farm.

  At the kitchen table over coffee, he sat with Patrick, Alejandro, and Anna Lynn as she explained that she and Danette were buying out their other sisters’ inheritance in the farm. She would pay her share of what was owed with proceeds from the sale of the Mountain Park property. Danette would use the army life-insurance payments she received from her husband’s death in a military training accident to do the same.

  Pending the settlement of the estate, Anna Lynn, Danette, and the two children were living on the farm, which consisted of half a section of prime agricultural land with good water rights, and they were busy fixing up the house, repairing fences, shoring up the hay barn, and building beehives for Anna Lynn’s planned raw-honey enterprise.

  Matt kept his questions to himself, especially ones about Alejandro. He also held back on asking Anna Lynn if she’d been planning her move before she left to visit Danette. He thought it likely; she had always been good at keeping secrets.

  She seemed uneasy with him, keeping her attention focused mostly on Patrick, who was trying his best to be positive. Her face was drawn, her eyes were tired, and she was thinner.

  Across from Matt, Alejandro remained mute, quietly drinking his coffee. Matt studied him surreptitiously with several quick glances and decided he wasn’t subservient, just diffident in an uncomfortable situation. All in all, he wasn’t bad-looking either, with strong features and a long Spanish nose. He could see the appeal he held for Anna Lynn.

  Silently, Matt wished Alejandro well, surprised at how comfortable it felt to be letting go of Anna Lynn to another man. He felt no remorse, no anger, just a subdued gratefulness for all that she’d meant to him over the years. She’d brought a lot of love into his life at a time when he’d badly needed it. He would have married her if she had allowed it.

  Anna Lynn used Ginny’s eagerness to depart as a pretext to cut short the socializing. After saying thank you and goodbye, she stood with Matt on the veranda while Alejandro and Ginny installed the side boards on the truck, walked Peaches up the ramp, secured her in the bed by way of a guide rope, and latched the tailgate. Patrick had stayed in the kitchen, where he was irritably rattling coffee cups in the new sink.

  She waited to speak until Alejandro and Ginny got in the cab, Alejandro settling behind the steering wheel. “You’re not angry?”

  Matt shook his head. “I don’t think so. He’s a good hand with ponies.”

  “Yes, just like you.” Anna Lynn looked in Matt’s eyes. “I never promised . . .”

  Matt cut her off. “I know. How sick are you?”

  Anna Lynn stiffened. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean you’re not well, I can see it.”

  “It’s just a female problem. Change of life, the doctor says.”

  “That’s all?”

  Anna Lynn nodded.

  “You’re sure?”

  Anna Lynn pursed her lips, signaling the subject was closed. “Yes.”

  She didn’t look like she wanted to be kissed, but Matt did it anyway, right on her lips. She yielded and caressed his face with her hand before breaking away.

  “Goodbye, Matthew.”

  “Adios.”

  She walked carefully around the spot where Fred Tyler had lain dead and got in the truck. Until that moment he’d wanted to know why she’d soured on him. Now he knew. If Tyler hadn’t come looking for him, they might still be together. No one ever forgets the people they’ve killed, nameless or otherwise, or the places where it happened, and for Anna Lynn, if she’d stayed, the constant reminder of what she’d done at the ranch would have haunted her forever.

  They drove away with Peaches prancing in the bed of the truck, Ginny’s face pressed against the back window watching her pony.

  Patrick eased to his side. “It’s a damn shame.”

  “Yep.”

  “I want you to hire me a housekeeper.”

  “Nope, you’d just want to marry her and screw it all up.”

  Patrick snorted. “Then find a way to get us some female companionship out here once in a while. Or maybe we could adopt a kid.”

  Matt laughed. “There’s a fat chance of that happening.”

  The truck disappeared in the gathering darkness.

  “It’s a damn shame,” Patrick repeated remorsefully.

  Matt sucked in a deep breath. “Yep.”

  7

  December brought rainsqualls to the Tularosa, not enough to give Matt an
optimistic outlook for a wet winter, but enough to slightly raise his hopes. It also brought an unexpected letter from Raine Hartman, who was stationed at a field hospital somewhere on the Continent. She couldn’t tell him where because the censors wouldn’t allow it, but she assured him that she was absolutely safe.

  She apologized for not writing sooner, but hadn’t had a moment of free time since arriving at her duty station. Except for one three-day weekend pass to London, she’d been working long hours every day, eating her meals half-asleep, and collapsing into bed exhausted. She’d taken up smoking.

  She spent her waking hours nursing gravely wounded soldiers who were more courageous than any men she’d ever met. It made her realize how brave Matt had been and how little she had known back in the States about how awful war really was. The movie newsreels or the army propaganda films didn’t come close to the truth. She’d begun to understand why the combat veterans she’d met at Fort Bliss rarely talked about their experiences.

  She told him that Susie, her nurse pal, who was still stationed stateside, had gotten a “Dear Jane” letter from her married officer lover, who’d dumped her as soon as his promotion to lieutenant colonel came through along with command of a battalion. Supposedly he was fighting somewhere in France and probably bedding Parisian hussies in between battles. She pitied his poor wife, the general’s daughter.

  She also mentioned she was now a first lieutenant and that through the grapevine she’d learned Dr. Beckmann had been promoted to major and reassigned to Walter Reed Hospital in Washington. She asked him to write and closed with the hope she would see him again when the war was over, but didn’t know where or when.

  Raine’s letter made Matt smile, and knowing how much mail had meant to him in Sicily, he immediately wrote her back, keeping it light and chatty, offering her another night out on the town if she so desired.

  In the middle of December, Matt’s already-diminished holiday spirits were battered by word of a German counterattack in Europe. Headlines in the newspapers called it the “Battle of the Bulge.” He wondered if his old outfit was in the thick of the fighting, but had no way of knowing. Reports mentioned the Allied and German army corps engaged in the battle and identified several besieged army regiments fighting for survival in blizzard conditions with dwindling supplies and no air support. Stories of Germans capturing and executing hundreds of American soldiers made Matt boil with anger. He felt miserable about not being with his unit, no matter where they were.