A Family For Rose

by Nadia Nichols

  “Billy’s right,” she said softly to her reflection. “You need to figure out what it is you really and truly want. So tell me, Shannon McTavish. What do you really want? Is it fame and fortune as a country-and-western singer? Or is it a life here on this backwater ranch with a good man? A man who’d make a good father for Rose?”

  Her reflection stared back at her, carefully considering her words. For a long time there was no reply, and then came the answer, straight from the heart.

  “I want a family for Rose.”

  The moment she spoke the words aloud, a great weight lifted from her shoulders.

  She exited the bathroom in a cloud of steam, dressed in clean jeans and a flannel shirt because the morning was cool. The smell of fresh coffee wafted up the kitchen stairs and she descended them in stockinged feet, carrying her boots. Her father was just pouring his first cup. It was 5:00 a.m. and the sun was rising over Wolf Butte.

  “You missed a great spaghetti supper at the Grange Hall last night, Daddy,” she said, pouring herself a mug of strong brew and bending to pat Tess as she passed by the old dog’s bed on her way to the kitchen door. Tess pushed to her feet and walked stiffly behind Shannon as she stepped out onto the porch to breathe the cool morning air. The old border collie descended the porch steps slowly and went off on her morning rounds. Shannon heard her father come out behind her as she gazed at the butte and took her first sip of coffee.

  “Glad you had a good meal. You got home late,” her father said.

  “Yep. We went dancing at the Dog and Bull. Thanks for watching Rose.” She glanced sidelong at him, then looked back at the mountains. “Daddy, if the wind turbines went up along Wolf Butte and you had to look at them every day from this porch, would you want to stay here? Would you consider moving someplace else?”

  Her question brought an abrupt laugh from her usually taciturn father. “Where would I go?”

  Shannon shrugged. “I don’t know. We could find another place where there were no energy projects planned. British Columbia’s beautiful, and I’m sure we could buy a big property up there.”

  Her father studied her sharply. “Why are you talking about this? What did you hear last night?”

  Shannon gripped her mug with both hands, ignoring the heat. “Tom Carroll said that Patriot Energy rerouted the transmission lines in order to bypass your land. The project’s moving forward. Construction starts tomorrow on the access road up Wolf Butte.”

  McTavish said nothing, but his jaw muscles corded as he gazed at the butte. She figured he must be picturing the mammoth wind turbines scraping the sky with their enormous blades, defiling a place he and the Shoshone had long held sacred. A place where the eagles soared and where he’d spread his wife’s ashes. He turned abruptly and went back inside the kitchen, the screen door banging shut behind him.

  * * *

  BILLY WAS ALREADY at the corrals grooming one of the mustangs when Shannon arrived, carrying her second mug of coffee in one hand and a thermos in her other. He wasn’t sure what to expect after last night, but he was fairly certain things were going to be mighty awkward between them. He couldn’t have been more wrong.

  “Morning,” she said, giving him an amiable smile. “Brought you some coffee and told my dad about the road construction starting on Wolf Butte tomorrow. I’m making breakfast and I expect you to be there. We’ll train the horses afterward. We have some important things to talk about as a family.” She set the thermos of coffee down outside the corral, turned on her heel and returned to the house.

  Billy stared after her, still holding the currycomb and brush in his hands, completely confounded. He finished brushing the mustang and poured himself a slug of coffee from the thermos. The caffeine helped clear his head. She’d said they had to talk about things as a family. What did that mean, exactly? Was he considered part of the McTavish clan now?

  He went down to the house reluctantly, carrying the now-empty thermos. The kitchen was redolent with the scents of bacon frying and a fresh pot of coffee perking on the stove.

  McTavish was doing his best to lace rawhide through a broken bridle with one hand. Rose was at the table playing with a piece of toast and some scrambled eggs, and Shannon was dishing up three more plates. She set them on the table without fanfare.

  “Sit,” she said to Billy and her father. They both sat. Shannon hitched her chair up to the table and spread some raspberry jam on her piece of toast. “This is hard to talk about but it needs to be said,” she began, concentrating on spreading the jam. “All of us have ties to this land, strong ties that go way back, but I believe the ties between us are more important. Tomorrow our world is about to change, and I understand how painful this change is going to be for the two of you.”

  She raised her eyes from her toast to look at both of them. “Billy, you said you’d sell me back that house you’re working on. I might take you up on that offer, not because I want to live there, but because my father’s going to need you no matter where he ends up, and I really don’t think he can stay here and watch those towers being built on Wolf Butte.

  “So I’m suggesting that we move as a family to a new place and start over. We take ourselves, our mementos, Tess, the horses and we move. Lock, stock and barrel. Before either of you say a word, I’m asking you to consider it for a few days. I have the money to make this happen, and Daddy, so do you. Installing four extra miles of transmission lines just to get around your land is going to cost Patriot Energy a bundle of money. My guess is, if we decide to start over someplace else, we’d have a buyer for this ranch by nightfall, and at a fair price, too.

  “We don’t have to stay here and suffer. We could start fresh someplace new. We’ll look for a place and choose it together.

  “Billy has an idea about starting a horse camp that recruits military veterans to train mustangs for the BLM adoption program. The challenge of working with the horses will help them cope with their PTSD the same way it helped him. It’s a great idea, and the two of you could make that work no matter where we live.

  “I can be a mother and a daughter and a songwriter and a singer anywhere. And I can help train those mustangs and get the hay in the barn and learn to cook a little better, too, given enough time. I’d even consider getting married again, if the right man were to ask.

  “This morning, right after breakfast, Rose and I are going to church. Don’t look so shocked. My daughter needs to be exposed to religion, same as I was. When she gets older she can decide for herself which path to follow. When we get back from church, I’m going to ride Khola and nobody’s going to stop me. But right now, I’d like to say grace. Rose, put your fork down and fold your hands together, please.”

  McTavish and Billy sat speechless as Shannon folded her own hands and bowed her head. “Heavenly Father, please grant my own father the patience to just this once let me have the last word so we can enjoy a peaceful breakfast together, and Rose and I can get to church on time. We can continue this discussion at the supper table tonight, after we’ve thought over very carefully everything I just talked about. Thank You, and amen.”

  * * *

  SHANNON HAD ATTENDED church regularly and sung in the church choir until her mother died, whereupon she’d announced to her father, “You don’t have to drive me to church anymore, Daddy. I’m not going.” When she passed through the doors of the tiny white church on this Sunday in late August, she half expected some awful retribution from a god she’d forsaken in her bitter heartbreak, but nothing happened.

  The organist kept playing as morning sunlight dappled the worn wood floor and humble pews. She held Rose’s hand and they sat toward the back, near the open door. A few members of the congregation nodded to her and smiled, but otherwise all remained focused on the minister.

  The majority of Wyoming residents supported open range religion, which included aspects of Native American cultures and the gamut of world beliefs,
but Bear Paw’s church was Congregationalist. The minister was a pious man who farmed a small holding and fixed cars on the side to put food on the family table. It was the same minister who had officiated at her mother’s funeral.

  Robert Slocum was fifteen years older now, and those years had left their mark on his weary features and thinning gray hair. The congregation had shrunk considerably since Shannon’s childhood. There were maybe fifteen worshippers gathered in the pews, none of them young people with children, and there was no choir dressed in long robes standing by the organist. The minister was talking about the harvest, spinning the theme through his sermon and drawing his flock together through their shared struggles to survive on the windswept plains of Wyoming.

  Rose fidgeted constantly, craning to find other young children, sighing loudly when she didn’t, swinging her legs back and forth so her heels drummed on the underside of the pew. When someone entered the church and sat behind them, Rose swiveled around on the pew and piped out, “Hello, Mrs. Bannon!” in her bright young voice.

  Shannon shushed her daughter even as she recognized Miranda, Mrs. Bannon’s daughter, sitting beside her mother. Miranda was the child in college who wanted to be a pediatrician. Shannon smiled at them both and faced front again. Within thirty minutes the service was over and the congregation was exiting the church past the minister, thanking him for the service and heading for home.

  Robert Slocum clasped her hands in both of his, smiling warmly. “Welcome back to Bear Paw, Shannon. I hope you’re planning to stay awhile.”

  “Thank you, Reverend, it’s good to be home.”

  As she shepherded Rose to the car, a young voice called her name and she turned to see Miranda hurrying after her. She was a pretty girl with dark shoulder-length hair and a painfully shy smile. “I was hoping I could get your autograph, but if my mother knows I’m asking for it she’ll have my hide. I’m Miranda Bannon.”

  Shannon smiled. “You’ve grown up.”

  “I’m in college now,” she said, blushing. “I’m a huge fan of yours. I have all your albums.”

  “Thank you, Miranda. I’m giving a benefit concert at the Grange this coming Saturday for the Hewins,” Shannon said, rummaging in her purse. She pulled out a pen and opened her wallet. “I’d love it if you’d come. Tell all your friends. I’ll be singing a few new songs I wrote, and there’ll be dancing and lots of fun. It starts in the afternoon.”

  She scribbled in her checkbook then ripped out the check and handed it to Miranda. “You can photocopy this for the signature,” she said as the girl’s eyes dropped to the piece of paper. “Then deposit that check in your college account and put it toward getting your medical degree.”

  “Wow.” Miranda lifted dazed eyes. “Thank you.”

  “Miranda, I hope you’re not plaguing Shannon like some star-struck tween,” Mrs. Bannon called, walking up to join them and smiling at Shannon. “If she is, I apologize.”

  “We were just getting to know each other again, Mrs. Bannon. Miranda wasn’t even in her teens when I left town. All I remember is her pigtails and braces. She’s turned into a beautiful young woman and I was just wishing her the best of luck at college.”

  Mrs. Bannon’s expression became somber. “You heard about Patriot Energy rerouting the wind project around your father’s land?”

  Shannon nodded. “I’m glad it’s working out for you.”

  “I’m sorry, Shannon,” Mrs. Bannon said. “Truly, I am.”

  “Don’t be. My mother would understand. Any mother would.” Miranda looked between them, frowning with confusion. Shannon tightened her grip on Rose’s hand. “Come on, Rose, time to head home. I’m fixing to ride a mustang on a wing and a prayer. I’ve gotten my prayer, and I’m hoping I won’t need the wings.”

  * * *

  SHANNON BRUSHED KHOLA head to toe, until his bay coat shone in the bright sunshine. His thick mane and tail streamed in the stiff breeze that blew up the valley. Shannon set the brushes aside and reached for the saddle blanket, smoothing it over his withers and onto his short, strong back.

  “Good boy, Khola,” she said soothingly into his flickering ears. She wished the wind wasn’t blowing so hard. Windy days made even the most placid horses jumpy, and Khola didn’t need any help in that department.

  She tried to ignore the fact that Billy was hovering in the background, trying not to appear anxious but ready to leap to her assistance. She didn’t need his help and wasn’t going to ask for it, but it wasn’t lost on her that he’d saddled Sparky and had him on standby, just in case.

  Her father was banging and clanging on something up in the machinery shed, having refused to bear witness to his daughter’s premature death. He’d volunteered to keep an eye on Rose, presumably for the same reason.

  “We’re just going to have us a nice little ride,” Shannon crooned softly as she lowered the saddle onto Khola’s back. “A safe, gentle, enjoyable ride in the round pen,” she continued, her movements slow and sure as she cinched up the girth, little by little.

  “And you’re going to be a perfect gentleman for me, so’s Billy can stop pacing around and acting as if the world’s about to come to an end. He’s not the only person around here who knows how to ride a horse. I used to ride a lot. Matter of fact, I was the last McTavish to win that cross-country horse race at the fall fair. ’Course, I was young and wild then, just like you are now, but you’re going to be gentle for me today, aren’t you, Khola?”

  Saddle on, she led him out around the perimeter of the round pen. He jigged a bit, prancing sideways and tossing his head, but he didn’t try to buck the saddle off. With his neck arched, and his long, thick mane and tail streaming in the wind, he was stunning.

  “I’ll hold him for you while you climb aboard,” Billy offered, crawling through the round pen rails and walking right up beside her. He took the reins from her hand and brought Khola to a halt, and before she could protest, he bent his head and completely disarmed her with an unexpected kiss. A very tender, sweet kiss.

  “I know you can do it, and I like your self-reliant spirit, but everyone needs a little good-luck kiss now and then.”

  Billy checked the girth, tightened the cinch a whisker more, then cupped his hands for her knee and tossed her lightly into the saddle, all the while holding the reins.

  Khola didn’t react to her weight on his back. His focus was on Billy. Shannon gathered the reins. “I’m okay,” she said. “You can let go now.”

  “No stunt riding,” Billy said, ducking through the rails again. “Just take it slow and easy.”

  “Yes, sir,” Shannon said. “Anything you say.”

  Billy leaned his forearms on the top rail and grinned.

  Shannon walked Khola around the pen, first one way, then the other. He was full of energy and every step was spring-loaded, but he made no effort to toss her.

  “How was church?” Billy asked.

  “You missed a good sermon.”

  “You learn anything?”

  “We reap what we sow.”

  Billy plucked a piece of grass and chewed on it. “That right? Guess we should put in a garden next year, start sowing some vegetable seeds.”

  Shannon reversed Khola again. He was walking smoothly now, flexing his neck up and down and snorting. She rubbed his neck with one hand. “My father won’t be able to stay here when the wind company starts bulldozing Wolf Butte.”

  “We talked about moving after you left this morning. This land’s been in your family for generations, and I love it, too. When I got out of the service and made up my mind to put down roots here, I couldn’t wait to be on this soil again,” Billy continued. “All I could think about was this valley, these mountains, that big wide-open sky. This land gets in your blood. Your father’s right. How do you turn your back on something that’s a part of you?”

  Shannon reined Khola to a stop, then
had him reverse a few steps. She stroked his shoulder. “Good boy.” She shifted her weight and moved him forward again. “We have each other, that’s the part that counts the most. Rose needs a family. She needs that security, and so do I. We can be a family no matter where we live.”

  Billy pushed his hat back on his head and chewed on the grass stem. “Sounds like you’ve done some mighty serious soul-searching.”

  “I have.” Shannon reined Khola in a big relaxed loop that ended in front of Billy. “It’s a big, scary world out there and this has always been my safe place, the place I retreated to in my mind when times got tough. I always thought it was the ranch that held me, the land that drew me back. But it isn’t just the land, it’s the memories and the people.

  “It’s my mother. It’s Willard at the general store, Al at the Dog and Bull, Mrs. Bannon and her beautiful daughter, Miranda, who wants to go to medical school and be a pediatrician. It’s my father, and it’s you. The land shapes the people and becomes a part of all of us. I get that. I really do. So if the two of you decide you want to stick it out here, we’ll stay. But if you want to move on, we’ll make it work.”

  Shannon dismounted, walked up to the corral fence and climbed the bottom rail to stand face-to-face with Billy. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, my life isn’t just about platinum records and sold-out concert halls anymore. I realize there are lots more important things, and the most important one is family. Wherever we end up, I want Rose to have a real family, and I’m hoping you’ll be a part of it. I’m willing to wait as long as it takes for you to realize I mean what I’m saying.

  “I’m not going to quit you, Billy. But right now I’m going to ask you to give me another good-luck kiss, because I’m about to take Khola for a ride down to the creek so’s he can splash in the water, and I’m hoping to stay dry this time.”

  Billy was just starting to oblige her when Shannon heard footsteps approaching at a run from the direction of the machinery shed. “Momma!” Rose’s voice cried out in disbelief. “Are you kissing Billy? Does that mean you’re getting married?”