A Family For Rose

by Nadia Nichols

  “Unless they go bankrupt. Then what happens?”

  “That won’t happen.”

  “How much?”

  “It’s not for sale.”

  “What if you lose the lawsuit in federal court?”

  “We won’t,” Bannon stated. “Not a chance of it.”

  “Your high pastures could hold a lot of wind turbines.”

  “Tom Carroll’s already talking about a project expansion on those pastures, so your talk’s empty, Shannon. Either way, I’m getting those turbines on my land, and you can stay off it, starting now.”

  Shannon clenched her fists tight. Her heart was pounding like a war drum. “Mr. Bannon, I understand why you want those wind turbine leases, but how much money do you need? How much money will it take to make you happy? Half the town’s against the turbines. This project has torn our town apart. Is it worth it?”

  “It’s worth it to put my daughter through medical school. You can’t do that raising sugar beets and Herefords in today’s market.”

  “Daddy, Shannon gave me money for college. A lot of money,” Miranda said in a small voice.

  “Give it back to her!” Bannon bellowed, outraged. “No daughter of mine accepts charity from a punk rock star!”

  “Mr. Bannon, I’m not a punk rock star and that’s not charity. That’s returning the money you gave us for my mother’s medical and funeral expenses, along with a little interest. That’s an investment in my daughter’s future, because if Rose stays here, she’s going to need a pediatrician, and with any luck Miranda will set up her practice in this area.

  “And, if you sold Wolf Butte to me, you’d get another big chunk of money you might never get otherwise, money that could be used to put her all the way through medical school. If we made it official by making an announcement at the bottom of the access road to Wolf Butte, right now, today, this morning, in front of all the media that’s gathering there, you’d be a hero instead of a villain.”

  “I’m not a villain,” Bannon barked.

  “Shannon’s a country music star, Dad. If you stood against her, you would be the villain!” Miranda said. “I think you should sell Shannon that mountain, and at a fair price, too.”

  “Momma, hurry up or we’re going to miss seeing Henry Crow Dog!” Rose’s voice piped through the open car window.

  “I’ll be waiting at the bottom of the access road, Mr. Bannon,” Shannon said. “If you decide you want to talk business, or if you want to witness the confrontation between two giant bulldozers and a brave group of tribal elders on horseback, you should come, too.”

  Shannon’s hands were trembling as she turned the key in the ignition. Before she pulled onto the road, she called Billy on her cell phone. “Tell Henry Crow Dog and the elders to start down the butte trail,” she said. “The film crews are getting set up and the bulldozers are starting to move onto the access road. Bannon said no to my proposal, but he might change his mind. Either way, I think he’ll show up, and he should have a Shoshone welcoming committee.”

  * * *

  BILLY TUCKED HIS cell phone into his jacket pocket. The tribal elders stood in a circle around him. Henry was beside the rock cairn, arms folded across his chest. The wind lifted the horses’ manes and tails, and fluttered the eagle feathers that adorned several of the elders’ headdresses.

  “You promised no violence,” he said to his grandfather, and Henry nodded stoically. “Shannon says to start down the mountain. The bulldozers are getting started and the news crews are waiting to record the confrontation.” Billy hesitated, then added, “I’d be honored to ride with you, if you’d permit it.”

  “It could be dangerous,” Henry said, stone-faced. “You could be hurt or arrested.”

  Billy met his gaze. “This is my fight, too.”

  Henry nodded again. “Yes, it is. I’m glad your heart has found itself. We’d be proud to have you ride with us.”

  The elders moved toward their weary horses. Two of the highest ranking carried lances, but they were for show. None of them were armed. Khola was still tossing his head and full of energy when Billy stepped back into the saddle. Henry started down the mountain, followed by the rest of the tribal elders. Billy allowed a respectful distance to open between them before letting Khola step out.

  The distance to the foot of Wolf Butte was less than a mile. They could hear the grind of big machinery as soon as they dropped off the lower plateau, and it grew louder as they descended.

  The bulldozers came to a halt when the elders formed a barrier in front of them. The growling engines stopped, and the silence seemed loud. A bald eagle circled above the butte, riding the afternoon currents in search of a meal. The raptor’s timely appearance wasn’t lost on the small crowd.

  Henry moved his horse a few steps in front of all the others. His long white hair streamed back from his face and his expression was solemn as he gazed at the group of contractors, reporters and law enforcement officers. He glanced behind him, caught Billy’s eye and motioned him forward with a jerk of his head. Billy moved Khola up beside his grandfather’s horse. Finally, Henry spoke.

  “You must always be careful with something that is greater than you are,” he began in his deep orator’s voice. “This land is sacred to us. Wolf Butte is where our bravest warriors fought their finest and fiercest battle against the Crow. Many of our people are buried there, among the ancient rocks. We came here to protect their resting place.

  “The white man stole this place from us a long time ago and called it his own, but our hearts and the spirits of our ancestors will always be up on Wolf Butte, up where the eagles fly.”

  The cameramen and photographers zoomed in, reporters scribbled in their notebooks, and Henry gave them everything they wanted for the evening news.

  “What you do here, you do for money, but this land is more valuable than any dollar amount. The land is who we are. The land is all we have. This mountain is a sacred place and should be kept so. Put your big wind machines in your cities if you need them so much. You’ve already destroyed the land your cities are built on with noise and lights and garbage. Do you have to destroy this mountain, too? If the mountain could speak, it would ask you, why?”

  Another pickup truck had pulled in to the staging area. Boyd Bannon with his wife and daughter. It was a good sign that he’d brought them along. They joined the group of people listening to Henry. Bannon looked gruff, but he always did. Tom Carroll hadn’t showed up yet, which was surprising. He and his attorney should’ve been front and center at this confrontation.

  When Henry finished speaking, silence reigned for a few moments before Bannon strode forward in his bullish way. He halted directly in front of Henry and Billy and braced his big, work-hardened hands on his hips in a belligerent way.

  He gave Billy a hard glare just as the shadow of the eagle’s wings flashed across his face. “I’m not here to dispute your spiritual connection to the mountain, but I do want to point out that, at this moment, you’re all trespassing on my land,” he announced in a raised voice, so all in attendance could easily hear. “We have laws in this country, and in the United States the land belongs to whoever buys it and pays the taxes on it. I own Wolf Butte, and I was within my right to sign the leases with the wind company to put wind turbines up on that mountain.

  “But a neighbor came to see me today. She asked me how much money it would take to make me happy and reminded me of the days when neighbors stuck together and helped each other through hard times. She made me think about what this wind project has done to this town and this county, turning neighbor against neighbor, friend against friend. And she’s right. That’s not the way it should be. If I didn’t need the money from those wind leases, I’d never have signed away the rights to my land the way I did.

  “So how much money is enough to make me happy? Well, I have four kids that want to go to college, and one of them w
ants to go to medical school. That takes a lot of cash, and that’s why I signed those leases. Not because I wanted to tear the town apart or I wanted to be rich, but because I wanted to educate my kids.

  “But good friends are important, too, and good neighbors. I’ve given it some thought and I’m hoping I can have both. Enough money to put my kids through college, and good friends and neighbors. That’s why I’ve decided to sell Wolf Butte, right here and now.”

  He reached into his jacket pocket to pull out a sheet of paper, which he unfolded and flagged in the air, turning to scan the faces behind him. “I have a purchase and sales agreement that was just validated by Patriot Energy’s lawyer, who’s in the process of transferring the lease sites from Wolf Butte to my high pastures. I’d like Shannon McTavish to read and sign this agreement, if the purchase price is agreeable to her, before I smarten up and change my mind about this whole thing.”

  Shannon lost no time moving forward with Rose on her hip. She swiftly scanned the paper Bannon handed her, then accepted the offered pen and signed the document. They shook hands formally.

  Then, in front of the tribal elders, the contractors and the media, and beneath the outstretched wings of the bald eagle that had been circling above Wolf Butte since Henry began his speech, Shannon gave Boyd Bannon an impulsive hug.

  And damned if the grumpy old buzzard didn’t hug her back.

  In that moment, Billy saw his future. The half-breed who hadn’t known where he belonged or whether he would ever amount to anything, could, in fact, have all that he wanted. A home. A family. And the woman he loved.

  * * *

  WHEN THEY GOT back to the ranch, her father gave Shannon an awkward, one-armed hug and told her, in a voice rough with emotion, that he’d repay her somehow.

  “This land’s my legacy, too, Daddy,” she said. “And Rose’s. Let us be a part of our future. Let me help out around here as much as I can.”

  Later that evening, after the supper dishes were done and Rose was watching a Western with her grandfather, Shannon walked with Billy down to the banks of the Bear Paw and listened to the river murmuring between its banks. They stood in silence for a long while, looking at the last colors of the sunset fading from Wolf Butte and admiring the twilight aria of a meadowlark.

  “I’m glad we’re staying put, Billy,” Shannon said softly. “I know it’s going to be tough for you and my father, living with the wind project, and it’ll be tough for my singing career, living so far from Nashville, but for better or for worse, this valley will always be our home.”

  “And after today, Wolf Butte will always be your mountain.”

  Shannon shook her head. “It belongs to all of us. Henry was right about that. The land is who we are, and the land is all we have.”

  “Not all,” Billy corrected her, reaching out to take her hand in his. “We have each other.”

  Shannon smiled and reached for his other hand. “I meant it when I said I wanted you in my life. We can make this work, Billy. I’m sure we can. You can start your mustang camp for war veterans, I can write my songs and sing ’em, too, even if it’s just with the Badlands. We can make a family for Rose, and she’ll have a good life here. We—”

  He stopped her with a kiss, and when he pulled away he said, “Marry me.”

  She contemplated his offer just long enough to make him suffer. “Kiss me again, cowboy, and I’ll think about it.”

  He took her into his arms, and the kiss they shared was a pledge and a promise that both of them knew would last forever.

  EPILOGUE

  “MOMMA, WHY ARE you so dressed up?” Rose was standing in the bathroom door watching while Shannon fixed her hair.

  “Because I’m singing some of my new songs at the Grange Hall this afternoon, and I want to look nice.”

  “But you never wear a dress, not like that one.”

  “You think it’s pretty?”

  “I do.” Rose nodded solemnly. “You’re pretty as a picture. Grampy’s getting dressed up, too. He’s putting on a suit, and he told me to ask you why.”

  Shannon studied her daughter’s reflection in the mirror. “Rose, there’s something I want to talk to you about. It’s about me and Billy.”

  Rose’s face brightened. “Momma, are you getting married?”

  Mother and daughter gazed at each other’s reflection. “Maybe. Would you be okay with that?”

  “If you were marrying Billy, I’d be happy. I like Billy, and he likes me. Did he ask you?”

  “He did.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I said I would, if you approved.”

  “Does this mean we’re really and truly staying here? Forever and ever?”

  Shannon turned to face her daughter. “Would that make you happy?”

  Rose nodded vigorously, her face radiating delight. “And if you marry Billy, Henry Crow Dog will be my grandfather!”

  “Great-grandfather,” Shannon corrected her. “If me and Billy get hitched we might be moving into that pretty little house Billy’s building beside the creek. You’d have your own bedroom, and the school bus stops right on the other side of the bridge over the creek.”

  “Will I be going to school?”

  Shannon nodded. “You’ll be starting first grade this fall. You’ll make lots of new friends there.”

  Rose frowned. “What about Grampy and Tess? Won’t they get lonely if we leave?”

  “They’ll be right here, right in this house, where they’ve always been, and we can come every day to visit. Billy will be working here, same as he is now. You can spend as much time in the house as you like. Tess and Grampy would like that. It’s only a stone’s throw from Billy’s place, just over the hill.”

  “Will Henry Crow Dog live with us, too?”

  “I’m not sure,” Shannon said. “You’ll have to ask Billy that. Billy was talking about getting one of Willard’s pups. Says a house isn’t a home until it has a good dog. The pups are little now, just six weeks old, but you could help pick one out. Would you like that?”

  “A puppy?” Rose beamed with delight. “Really? Can I have some brothers and sisters, too?”

  Shannon laughed. “C’mon, we’d better get a move on. Can’t be late today. Billy mentioned there might be a justice of the peace at this fund-raising concert, and he said they can marry people.”

  “Like you and Billy?”

  “Like me and Billy, now that we know it’s okay with you. I figured it would be, but I’m glad to hear you say it.” Shannon picked up her guitar and took her daughter’s hand. Rose paused at the head of the stairs and her fingers tightened around Shannon’s, drawing her to a halt. She looked up at her mother.

  “Momma, since we’re staying, can I have a pony?”

  Shannon marveled at how much her life had changed in less than a month. Just a few weeks ago, she’d been wondering if she’d ever feel happy again. She smiled down at her daughter through a blur of tears as her heart overflowed. “We’ll have that conversation later, Rose. Right now, I have some new songs to sing and a good man to marry.”

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from A Cowboy’s Pride by Karen Rock.

  A Cowboy’s Pride

  by Karen Rock

  CHAPTER ONE

  “ACTION!”

  At her director’s prompting, Katlynn Brennon aimed her sincerest smile into the television camera, stuck out her forehead and tipped down her chin for her best angle. Her weary eyes chased the racing teleprompter all while striving to ignore her “slimming” undergarment’s malicious dig.

  What number was this take?

  Infinity?

  “Babe Paley, the socialite wife of CBS founder, William S. Paley, once said, ‘A woman can never be too rich or too thin,’” Katlynn intoned, voice steady despite the boom mic’s close dip
to her head. “However, many of her fellow glamour queens might have added that riches don’t guarantee contentment. Heiresses may even share a unique kind of adversity.”

  Beneath blaring lights, Katlynn willed back the damp forming on her forehead.

  Glow not glisten.

  Glow.

  “On tonight’s episode of Scandalous History, we’ll dig into the secret lives of seven ‘golden girls’ who inherited their share of troubles along with their fortunes.”

  She paused, maintaining her pose for Editing, who appreciated extra room on the ends of takes. Dozens of eyes peered at her from the shadows.

  Nope. This wasn’t awkward at all...

  Perfectly natural to grin at nothing like a loony statue...

  “Cut!” bellowed her director, Gabe French, and she blew out a breath. A gray-haired, slouchy man, Gabe’s heavy-lidded eyes and rumpled clothes belied his legendary perfectionism. “Great job, Katlynn. Just amazing. Now, can we do another take with you repeating the intro salaciously?”

  Mary, the studio’s overzealous hair and makeup person, rushed Katlynn with a fistful of spritzes, brushes and powder. De-frizzing spray blasted in a coconut-scented cloud.

  “Salaciously?” Katlynn choked out as Mary smoothed down microscopic hair wisps only an expert stylist or a circling hawk could spot.

  “Like you’ve got a tasty, juicy bit of gossip to tell.” Gabe’s eyes gleamed. “Give me a knowing smile with your left eyebrow lift.”

  “How’s this?” Katlynn shot him her best Mona Lisa impersonation while Mary scurried around in a cyclone of powder.

  “Perfect!” he crowed before turning to the lighting director. “And can we warm up the lights? Katlynn’s skin looks like a corpse.”

  “Give us a sec,” the gaffer grumbled, huddled with his crew.

  Katlynn hid her wince, concealing her growing worries about aging in a youth-obsessed industry.

  “And Mary, do something about those dark circles under her eyes.” The director peered at the camera’s monitor.

  Mary whispered, “If he calls you a corpse one more time, I’ll put him in a grave.”