“Thank you,” she said. “Why did they put metal in your head?”
“Rose, it’s not polite to ask questions like that,” Shannon said as she took her own seat. She tried unsuccessfully to catch her daughter’s eye, but Rose was still staring unabashedly at Billy.
“It’s all right,” Billy said. “I got hurt when the vehicle I was riding in hit a roadside bomb when I was in Iraq. The doctors had to put me back together again the best way they could.”
Shannon wondered how many more ugly surprises the day could throw at her. “You joined the military? I always thought you were going to be a big rodeo star or the highest paid quarterback ever for the Dallas Cowboys.”
“That might be a first for an Indian off the rez.” Billy’s grin was sardonic. “Signing up with the Marines seemed like a good idea at the time. The recruiter made it sound like an opportunity I’d be crazy to pass up. I’m glad things worked out better for you in Nashville, Shannon. A lot of talented musicians go there hoping to make a name for themselves, but not many do. You did real good.”
Shannon served herself up some beans and franks, avoiding his eyes. “Thanks.”
“Bet your next song tops the charts, same as all the others.”
“There aren’t going to be any more songs. For ten years I lived mostly on a bus and never knew when I woke up what state or town I was in.” Shannon concentrated on cutting up her hotdog into precise segments. “I’m done with that life.”
Billy had the good sense not to pursue the subject. He helped himself to the beans and took two slices of bread, laying them carefully on the edge of his plate, then hesitated, his fork poised. “Your father probably told you I bought that piece of land by the creek.”
Shannon studied her hotdog segments. “Yes, he did.”
“He put a for-sale sign out on the road about the same time I came back home. I didn’t have much money saved—the military doesn’t make a man rich—but I didn’t want anyone else buying a piece of the McTavish ranch, so I went to talk to him about a job. He ended up selling me the land and hiring me on at the same time.”
“Lucky for you,” Shannon said drily, poking at a piece of hotdog.
“I work at Willard’s part-time, too. Your father can’t pay me, but he’s letting me work off my mortgage.”
There was an awkward silence. Shannon forked her beans and hotdog segments together in a pile in the center of her plate and stared at them. She’d never faced a more unappetizing meal.
“I guess my father isn’t gentling mustangs anymore,” she said. “I don’t see any horses down in the corrals.”
“We shipped five out to auction last week. The Bureau of Land Management’s due to bring another batch in any day now, but McTavish doesn’t make much money taming wild horses for their adoption program. Barely enough to buy groceries, really.”
“What about horse training for the film studios?”
“He had some sort of falling-out with a studio over a dog being killed on location maybe five, six years back. He blamed them for it and quit. I don’t know the details.”
Shannon prodded her beans with the fork. The bread was stale and the swelled-up franks were downright suspicious. Who knew what they were made of? She pushed her plate away and reached for her glass of milk, taking a tentative sniff to make sure it hadn’t soured.
She gazed across the room to another time. “My mother was the mover and shaker around here. She trained the horses and the dogs. Daddy learned from her after he got busted up in that horse wreck and couldn’t work as a stuntman anymore. He did all right with it, but my mother was the best of the best.”
“She was a legend around these parts,” Billy said.
Shannon was surprised he remembered the strong-willed, independent-minded woman who had been her mother. She caught his eye and felt herself flush. “Finish your beans, Rose.”
“But, Momma...”
“Clean your plate and I’ll take you out to the barn to see the horses.”
Rose dutifully lifted her fork while Billy scraped his chair back and pushed to his feet.
“Coffee’s done,” Billy said. “I’ll pour.”
Shannon downed her milk in four big swallows and held her stained Bear Paw Bank and Trust cup out. He filled it with hot strong coffee. “Thanks,” she said. “How many hours are you putting in a week to work off your mortgage? What’re you doing, exactly?”
Billy set the coffeepot back onto the stove and returned to his seat with his own mug. “I work at Willard’s store, stocking shelves, mostly at night. For your father, I help with the mustangs and other odd jobs. Right now I’m working on the fence line down along the black road. It’s slow going. Most of the posts are rotted off and need replacing.”
“I don’t doubt that, but what difference does a good fence make if the gates are left wide open for the livestock to wander through?” Shannon was aware her voice was sharp but the question needed to be asked.
He pulled his chipped John Deere Dealership mug close to his chest. “There’s no livestock on the place. We’re planning on picking up some young stuff together at the fall auction, but the fences have to be repaired before we can do that.”
We? Shannon thought. “Daddy told me there were horses.”
“The only two horses he kept were Sparky and Old Joe. He gives them the run of the place, and they never roam too far from the barn.”
Shannon took a quick swallow of coffee, which burned her mouth. The pain helped her gain control of her emotions. Sparky and Old Joe had to be twenty-five years old if they were a day. She’d practically grown up astride Sparky, and Old Joe had been her mother’s favorite horse. She set down her mug, deeply shaken yet again. As gruff as her father acted, he still had a heart. For the animals, at least.
“I won’t beat around the bush, Billy. This place is falling down. It’s a shambles. My father may be broke but I’m not. Not completely, anyhow. I can pay whatever it takes to hire you on full-time. That is, if you think you can do the work, and I understand if you can’t, with your injuries. It’s a big job, a lot harder than stocking shelves at the store, but you’ll pay your mortgage off all the sooner.”
Billy’s eyes locked with hers and the heat in his gaze hit her like a forceful blow. He pushed out of his chair so abruptly that he lost his balance and had to grab for the edge of the table. He straightened, carried his plate and cup to the sink, then limped to the door, took his hat from the wall peg, pushed through the screen door with a squeak and a bang, and was gone.
“Is he mad, Momma?” Rose said in the silence that filled the room.
“I think so, honey.” Shannon sighed. “Finish your supper, Rose, and we’ll go find Sparky and Old Joe down in one of the barns.”
* * *
BILLY WAS ON his way to the cook’s cabin when he spotted McTavish down by the machinery shed, working on the tractor. Billy pulled his truck up beside the old red Moline tractor and cut the ignition. He and McTavish had been working on the tractor for a week now, every evening after supper. Robbing parts from three other tractors in various stages of decay to build one that could take on the job of haying. Robbing Peter to pay Paul, McTavish called it. The first mowing was already three weeks late. The grass was tall and going to seed. The neighboring ranchers already had their first cutting stored away in their barns.
McTavish wiped his hands on a greasy shop rag. “Thought I might try to fire her up tonight, see how she goes.”
Billy adjusted his hat, glanced toward the ranch house then back at the tractor. “Those plug wires look bad. I should’ve picked up another set today.”
“She’s got new plugs, new oil filter, new oil, fresh gas, good hydraulic lines. Tires are old but they’ll do. She might go, cracked plug wires and all.”
“If so, we could start haying first thing tomorrow,” Billy said.
McTavish no
dded. “Be good to make an early start. We’re a little late this year.” McTavish hauled himself up onto the metal seat, pulled the primer knob and kicked her over. The Moline sounded as tired as the both of them put together. The tractor’s engine turned over but wouldn’t fire. McTavish’s shoulders slumped. “If just one damn thing would go right around here,” he muttered.
“I’ll go to town first thing and pick up a new set of plug wires at Schuyler’s,” Billy offered. “He opens early. We could still be haying by seven. Get the top field done, anyhow, maybe half of the lower.”
McTavish nodded again. “Save the slip. I’ll deduct it from your monthly payment.”
A killdeer flew across the front of the tractor and landed near the corral. Billy watched it hunt for insects in the weeds along the fence line. He plucked a stem of tall grass and nibbled on it. “Been thinkin’. Maybe I could cut my hours at Willard’s so’s I can work more hours here, when it’s busy times, like haying. And the fencing needs to be done before we buy the stock.”
“I can’t pay you, Billy. We talked about that before.”
“I don’t need much to get by.”
McTavish looked at him. “You’re building a house. That takes cash.”
“I got what I need to close it in for the winter,” Billy said softly. “There’s lots that needs doing around here if we’re bound to get this ranch back on its feet. Part-time won’t cut it. I’ll stock shelves at the store if I need spending money. Working full-time for you, I’ll pay off my mortgage all the quicker.”
He paused. Hearing the words aloud, he realized they made sense, and the humiliation and anger Shannon’s words had triggered started to bleed away. She hadn’t been attacking him personally, merely telling him she could afford to hire full-time help, and if he couldn’t do it, she’d hire someone who could. It was his job to prove to her he was up to the task, in spite of his injuries. “Must feel good, having your daughter back.”
“She shouldn’t have left.” McTavish climbed down from the tractor, his movements stiff. “But she’s come to her senses. She finally divorced Travis Roy.”
Billy tossed the grass stem away to hide his surprise. “She plan on staying?”
McTavish shook his head. “Doubt it. Willard showed me a picture of her house in one of those entertainment magazines. Looks like the White House, pillars and all, ten times as big as all the buildings on this ranch put together. After living that fancy life for ten years she’ll never be able to live here again.”
“I can’t think of any better place to raise that daughter of hers.”
McTavish gave him a jaded look. “I dunno about that. Shannon couldn’t wait to get out of here.”
“She came back, didn’t she?” Billy plucked another blade of grass. “With all her money she could have gone anywhere, but she came home. That says a lot. She still cares about you and she cares about this place, that’s as plain as a summer day is long. Speaking of which, it’s getting late. I’ll see you in the morning, bright and early. We got some hay to cut.”
* * *
SHANNON TOOK ROSE to the horse barn after cleaning up the kitchen. They walked down in the golden light of early evening. She tried to focus on the beauty of the setting, the rugged mountains and the fertile McTavish Valley, but all she could see were the broken fences, the missing shingles, the sagging roofline of the barn. A land empty of horses and cattle and young dogs. A land devoid of hope.
She pulled open one half of the big barn door and stepped into the dimness, holding Rose’s hand in hers. “This barn used to be full of horses and sweet-smelling hay, barn cats and cow dogs. I always loved coming in here.”
“Where are the horses, Momma?”
She gazed down the row of stalls. “Looks like nobody’s home at the moment.” She raised her eyes to the empty hay mow. Dropped them to the wide aisle, littered with dried manure and straw, not neatly swept and raked, the way she’d kept it. She sighed. “Sparky and Old Joe must be outside somewhere, maybe down by the creek.”
“Can we go find them?”
“Sure. It’s a nice evening for a walk.”
They were walking past the tractor shed when Shannon saw her father sitting on an upended bucket, working on the guts of an old red tractor. She changed direction and headed toward him, leading Rose along.
“We missed you at supper. I set aside a plate,” she said when he finally paused to acknowledge their approach. Shannon let her eyes flicker over the old machine and shook her head. “Can’t believe this old relic still runs.”
“It don’t. That’s why we haven’t hayed yet.”
Rose spotted Tess lying beside the old shed. “Can I pet her?”
Shannon nodded. “Just be gentle and remember she’s old and frail.” When Rose was out of earshot, Shannon shoved her hands in her pockets and rounded her shoulders. “Daddy, can we talk?”
He fitted a socket wrench onto a nut and torqued on it hard. It didn’t budge. He glanced up at her for a few moments, then said, “I’m listening.”
“Rose has been through an awful lot. The past two years, things got pretty bad between me and Travis, and toward the end she was old enough to understand what was going on.”
Her father’s expression hardened. “She see Travis hit you?”
The carefully applied makeup clearly hadn’t hidden the evidence of Travis’s last fit of drunken rage. “Yes,” Shannon said. “Travis got mean when he was drunk, and these past few years he was mean and drunk most of the time.”
Her father laid the socket wrench down at his feet and pulled a rag out of his hip pocket. Wiped his brow and his neck, shoved it back in his pocket, picked up the socket wrench, and tackled the job again, all without ever looking at her. “You don’t have to worry about me. I haven’t touched a drop since you left, and I sure as heck ain’t going to hit either of you.”
Shannon flinched inwardly. Her father clearly remembered the last heated words they’d hurled at each other, ten years ago when she was about to leave home. “You walk out of here right now and I no longer have a daughter!” he’d hollered.
She’d whirled around and shot back, just as mad, “You haven’t been a father to me since Momma died. You’re nothing but a useless drunk!” Then she’d walked out to Travis’s truck, climbed in and driven away, bound for Nashville, fame and fortune. That was the last time they’d seen each other, and those were the words that had festered between them for the past ten years.
Her father had stopped working to look directly at her. “You left one useless drunk behind and ran off with another,” he said. “I’m sorry about that.”
“I’m sorry I said what I did, Daddy,” she said. “We both said things we shouldn’t have. I’m hoping you’ll forgive me and I’m hoping we can make a fresh start. Rose needs to get to know her grandfather.”
He dropped his eyes and didn’t say anything for a long time, long enough for Shannon to draw a deep breath and square her shoulders. “It’s okay if you don’t want us. I have friends in California, and I’ve always wanted to see the big redwoods.”
Her father stared at the wrench in his hand and shook his head, still not meeting her gaze. He looked old and beaten. “I couldn’t make anything work after your mother died. Losing her wrecked me.”
Shannon was surprised by his admission. She felt her eyes sting at the defeat in his voice. She wanted to reach out to him but didn’t know how. “I guess maybe when she died, the heart just went out of both of us. I’m going to walk down to the creek with Rose and look for Sparky and Old Joe.”
“They’ll be by the swimming hole,” he said, still staring at the wrench as if it was the sorriest thing he’d ever seen. “They come up to the barn near dark, looking for their grain.”
“I’m glad you didn’t sell them, Daddy.”
He sat back down on the bucket and started working on the tractor. “Nobo
dy’d want ’em,” he said gruffly. “They’re so old they’re no good for anything, not even dog food.”
Shannon knew that’s not why he’d kept them, but he’d never admit he loved a horse, not in a million years. Crusty old bastard. “C’mon, Rose,” she said, reaching for her daughter’s hand. “Let’s go find us a couple of useless old hay burners.”
CHAPTER THREE
DAWN CAME AND Billy was halfway to town before the first slanting rays spangled through the big cottonwoods along the far side of the creek. The parts store wasn’t open yet, so he had to roust Schuyler out of bed. The older man cussed and coughed up thirty years of a bad habit as he came to the door, pulling on a pair of greasy old jeans.
“What the hell you doin’ here this time of night, Billy?” he said, blinking red-rimmed eyes and scratching his whiskers.
“Need a set of plug wires for McTavish’s Moline. We’re making hay today. And it’s morning, Schuyler, in case you haven’t noticed.”
“Do tell. Been a while since McTavish did much of anything out to his place. This have something to do with that rich and famous daughter of his coming back home?” He already had a pack of cigarettes in his hand and was tapping one out. “I heard she might be plannin’ on stickin’ around for a while. That right? Seems kind of funny, a famous singer wanting to stick around a place like this.”
“I need those plug wires, Schuyler. The day’s half wasted.”
After he’d gotten what he came to town for, Billy stopped by Willard’s and asked for the day off, told him about his new work schedule and drove back to the ranch through the three open gates. He thought about how they really should be closed, how the horses never should’ve gone from this place, or the beef cows...or Shannon. McTavish said she wouldn’t stick around for long, and he was probably right, but she’d come back here looking for something, and he hoped she found it. He hoped she’d make up her mind to stay and raise her little girl here. It was a good place to raise a kid, and Rose seemed like a good kid.
McTavish was up and waiting, and the coffee was hot and strong.
A Family For Rose Page 3
