by Brian Gore
Ben liked the way her eyes lit up when she laughed... and noticed how the light faded so quickly... after.
"I ran away from home when I was 16. I got tired of getting beaten and... used... by my mothers "latest" husband. I didn't have anywhere to go and no money to get there with, but I figured anywhere, anything, would be better than that hell I was in... "
"Yeah... well... so much for figuring huh?" She laughed a dark and cynical laugh, and emptied the last of the coffee from her cup.
Ben said nothing, just stood up, walked over to the stove, picked up the pot and refilled her cup... and his own.
Amanda, thanked him and continued her story. "Homeless... messed up... on the street... and scared... I was fresh meat for a man like Tyrone." She looked up at Ben; "That's Timmy's father...
She looked down at her hands in her lap... He saw her eyes seem to get wet... but she blinked it away and raised her head with a small shake. When she looked back at him and continued talking, he noticed a hard, defiant edge to her voice; as if challenging him to judge her.
"He pimped me out for a little while." Her eyes flared. "Then decided to keep me for himself... most of the time."
"He beat me when I got pregnant... when that didn't work, he tried to force me into an abortion... I ran off and hid. I managed to hide long enough that time, that it was too late to do anything when they finally found me. But, find me they did and took me back to him. Since then, he's held me, by been using my son... Timmy."
She stood and walked over to the door, to look out at the joy of her life, quietly coloring in the noontime sunshine on the porch. With her back to Ben she said; "But now... I can't let what was done to me... get done to him."
Amanda turned and looked back into the cabin at the weathered old cowboy sitting at the even more weathered old table. Looking at him with the tears welling up in her eyes she simply said; "I can't."
"Well!" Ben spoke, sitting at the table, for the first time since she'd started her story; "It's sure then."
"Sure? What's sure? I don't understand" she asked him.
His words were spoken with a certainty and an icy edge that, after witnessing what this man was capable of, sent a chill up her spine; "Someone has to pay the debt."
"Debt? What debt?" Amanda asked, confused.
Ben stood and walked over to the doorway. Standing in the open door, he looked back at Amanda and tilting his head toward Timmy he said; "Someone does, what was done to him" and he jabbed a finger at the boy, his eyes flashing; "Done to you... there's a debt to be paid... Someone owes... someone... will... pay."
Amanda just looked at him. In her whole life she'd never seen anything like him. He seemed like the stuff of stories and legends... a real live Knight in shining armor... and she laughed... She couldn't help her self... she laughed.
She started laughing almost hysterically. Laughed so hard that Timmy got up from where he sat on the porch to look through the door into the small cabin to see what it was all about.
Ben looked at her with a what-in-the-hell-has-gotten-in-to-her sort of a look.
"What are you laughing about Momma! Because we're in Mon-ta-na?" the little boy asked.
"Yes Timmy... because we're in Montana!"... then, she looked at Ben and laughed.
Timmy went back to his coloring, Amanda picked up her coffee cup and took another sip... still laughing... and Ben stood in the doorway wondering what in the hell was going on.
"What in the hell is so funny about Montana?" he wanted to know.
She held up one hand to him, to wait, covering her mouth with the other, while she tried to catch her breath. "It's not Montana Ben... it's you!" and she collapsed again into laughter.
"Me?! What have I done that's so damn funny?"
Amanda looked at the bowlegged cowboy with three days stubble on his chin, faded jeans with a hole in one knee, run down, patched boots, and wearing a sweat stained grey felt hat with a tear in the brim, standing in the doorway.
She laughed so hard her sides hurt. She laughed until she cried, as Ben stood in the doorway, exasperated and wondering if the woman's situation had just finally drove her mad.
She couldn't remember, ever, laughing that much or that long. It felt good. The fear and pressure she'd been under for days seemed lessened, lighter. She didn't know why really, but she felt like she had hope. She felt, for the first time in her life, like she could laugh without fear. Whatever had brought her to be able to let loose like that had to be good. Didn't it?
Finally the spasms of laughter subsided and she regained a small bit of composure; enough to speak. As her fingers wiped away the tears of laughter running down her cheeks she looked up at Ben; "You cowboy, don't look anything LIKE a knight in shining armor!" and she regressed into yet another spasm of laughter.
"Huh? What the... What are you talkin' about? who said anything 'bout knights? Wha.... aw hell... I've never understood a woman... never will!" he said with a flip of his hand, and walked over to pour himself another cup.
Ben sat back down at the table, sipping strong black coffee from his cup and watching the laughing woman. Finally, he asked her. "So... his dad is black? Thought so..."
Amanda's laughing stopped. Looking at the cowboy her face darkened.
"Ben... when you were beating that man... back at the campground... it sounded like you hate black men... my son is half black and..."
"Look lady" Ben interrupted her; "my first wife was an Indian... I hated her 'cause she was a Bitch! I don't give a good Gawd Damn what color, she, you, or that boy are!"
"Then, why were you so savage with him?"
Ben just sat looking at her for several long seconds. He took another drink of his coffee, looking at her silently over the cup, before he rose and walked to the door, stopped and turned back to her. "I was a boy one time..." then he turned back and walked outside and walked down to the shack he used for a pack shed.
It was in his mind that he needed to get away from this ranch. He needed to get her away from it. He didn't know how much time they had, but he didn't want to waste any of it, waiting to find out how little it might be.
He had another couple of bedrolls in the shed, and some assorted other camp gear, from the days when they'd still run a pack string for hunting camps. He picked one up, along with a few other odds and ends of what he thought might be useful and carried it back to his truck, throwing it in the bed as he passed by.
He walked on over to the corrals and pulled the gate open, tying it back to the fence, so, in case the horses did come on back to the ranch, like he hoped, they'd have access to the water trough. Then, he continued on around the back of the corral, opened the gate into his hay yard and pulled down several bales. These he carried over to the corral fence, cut the twines and chucked the flakes over the fence into the feed bunk that ran down one side.
With those meager preparations done he walked back to his cabin and stepped up on the porch. Timmy was still quietly coloring in his sketch book.
Ben squatted beside him to see what he was drawing. He saw three faces with stick bodies, drawn with a red crayon standing on one side. One of those had yellow hair... and then four stick men... all drawn with the black crayon... that appeared to be laying down. Ben asked what he was coloring.
With a serious face Timmy looked up at him. It's a picture of you slapping those men... because they slapped my Momma.
Ben rubbed the top of the boys head and told him; "good picture boy. Real good picture."
Timmy looked up at him with solemn, brown eyes. "Thank you" he said. "Thank you for helping my Momma."
Ben just nodded as he stood up. He had to turn away for a few seconds, so the boy couldn't see his face. "Damn!" he thought; "No boy that little, should have eyes like that. Damn!"
Amanda was still sitting quietly at the table when he entered. Ben poured some more coffee in his cup, and started to reach for Amanda's, but she covered it with her hand; "I'm fine... two cups of that stuff is all I can handle." she smiled
.
He replaced the pot on the stove, stepped over and sat back at the table, and started talking; "Look here... I'm sorry. I've got a situation here to complicate things. For me anyway. So I guess that includes you too, since our two good fortunes, seem to have gotten all mixed up together. Since you're bein' straight up with me... I'll return the favor. Maybe you've noticed, this place ain't exactly a gold mine... it's seen better days... truth is, I'm close to losin' it... I've... uh... not been doin' like I should in a little while... I can't make this year's payment unless I get those horses I was drivin' this morning back here to sell. But I can't do that if I'm bein' hunted by a bunch of Jamaican toughs out of Chicago!"
"I can't deal with them, if I have to mount a guard on you... and since you... and me too... think getting the cops involved is gonna do more harm than good, it leaves me with a little problem. I have to put you somewhere safe, so I can have some freedom of movement. We got to get away from this ranch... away from anything connected with me... They'll ID me... sure as hell they'll figure out who I am... and they'll figure, where they find me, they find you. That's when they'll come here lookin'. We can't be here when they come."
"I'm thinking... I've got an old friend, he died a couple years back. He had a hunting lodge, up on the east side of the Bob. I want to take you there. You'll be safe there. You can get your head right and sort out what you want to do... While I... uh... while I take care of things... around here and such."
"The Bob?" Amanda wondered.
"Yeah, short for the Bob Marshall Wilderness... just about the biggest, wildest bit of country left in Montana... or the whole damn world for that matter."
"Oh, makes sense...." Amanda hesitated a second. He could sense she had more to say.
"Ben?" She asked, her voice quiet and solemn now; "you said... you're close to losing your ranch. You don't strike me as lazy or weak. You're a lousy housekeeper for sure! Judging by the empty bottles you probably drink a little too much... or a lot!" She laughed again, lightly; "... but... you don't strike me as a drunk either... So... What's going on here? What about the rest? Why are you going to lose it?"
This was the strangest situation not only for Amanda, but for Ben as well. It had been years since he could talk to anyone, not even his daughter. Ellen had been the only person, on this earth who understood him, who he could talk to. But, she'd been his wife, the love of his life. He'd been with her for years. Why... how, could he have the inklings of those same feelings, of being able to talk, to this woman? Hell, he hadn't known her half a day! He'd already let things slip with this girl, this stranger, he'd never say to anyone, except Ellen. What in the Hell was goin' on?
The only thing that made any sense to the cowboy, the only thing that justified what his instincts were whispering to him, was that they were kindred spirits recognizing each other as souls battered by a merciless world. Two souls reaching out, grasping, almost desperately, for someone who understood, without truly needing an explanation.
She had bared her story to him, with all its shame and humiliation. He sure couldn't see how it would be fair or proper for him to keep his to himself, though he doubted he could lay out the whole story, just yet.
"Hell girl, I don't know where to start... I'm losing the place 'cause I haven't worked my cows, or my horses, like I should have. They're running wild, up there on the mountain. There's a lot to workin' a ranch. Just havin' a few thousand acres don't make you rich. Hell it makes you poor! It takes a hell of a lot of work to make a place pay... and I... uh... the past few years... I ain't been, workin' all that much."
When he went silent for a few moments, Amanda prodded him, sensing his reticence to continue. "Why? Why have you quit working your ranch? It's none of my business, but... it looks to me like this was your life. It feels to me like you fit here."
Ben stood and walked back to the door and looked out. He motioned for her to come over. When she stood beside him he pointed across the open area of the ranch yard, to the charred trunks of a couple of good sized cottonwood trees that flanked the foundation of what had, apparently, at one time, been a sizeable house.
"That was our house. I was born in that house. My Grandfather built it... " The rough, grizzled cowboy choked back a sob. That sound, coming with such force, so unexpectedly, startled Amanda, so that she jumped back and turned toward him.
Ben lifted his eyes to her... Tears streaming down his cheeks.
"I burned it the night she died in it. She was the breath in my lungs. She was the sun in my sky... She was the Love of my life... When she died in that house, I couldn't bear to look at it any more... I burned it to the ground that night. I stood out there in the yard, and watched it burn. Neighbors, over in the next drainage saw the light and the flames licking up into the sky and called the fire department... By the time they got here, it was already starting to cave in." Ben shook with his grief.
"I... uh... I haven't had much I cared about since then. My daughter's grown. Living in Helena. Works in a Doctors office there. We talk, but I don't see her much. Disappointed in her Ol' Dad I suppose. Just me an Ol' A.H. to worry 'bout, and we don't need much."
"Well, you won't have much if you keep on like this!" Amanda retorted.
"Yup, right to the rat killin'!" Ben grinned a weak smile back at her.
"Why did she die Ben?" Amanda asked.
"Cancer... she got a cancer... was all through her before we even knew she was sick. Found out in April. By September, she was... gone." Ben lowered his head and sobbed quietly, tears streaming down his cheeks.
He had his nightmares. He had his visions... but he'd not cried. In all these years since she'd been taken from him. Outside of the night she passed, when mostly he raged at God, he'd not cried.
Why now? What the hell was the power this girl had? It was the strangest, damndest thing he'd ever seen.
"What was her name Ben?"
"Ellen... Her name was Ellen."
"Was she a strong woman Ben? Was she afraid?"
"Huh? What? Scared? I... uh... I suppose she was. She wasn't stupid or crazy. But yes, she was strong. Strongest I ever knew. She wouldn't let on if she was afraid. Never said so. Told me I better cowboy up and quit all the teary eyed nonsense when I told her I didn't think I'd make it without her. She was the one that held me together when... uh... never mind."
"What?... When what?" She asked.
"Never mind... some other time... not now." he waved his hand, as if to brush away the question.
"Well then Ben, forgive me for saying this. Considering... it's from the perspective of a Woman... who hasn't known you for a full day yet; but seeing what I have of you in this insane day... and what you just told me about your wife, you're probably lucky she's not around."
"What? Lucky!? What kind of Bull..."
It was Amanda's turn to cut Ben off now. "I think, Ellen, if she were here right now... would probably take that frying pan over there, and... whack you with it!"
Ben just looked at this strange and beautiful woman standing there slapping him with her words. Slapping him hard... and ... to his shame... Telling the truth.
He just stood there looking at her... mouth open... but saying nothing. Finally, he looked down at his boots... closed his eyes... and he could see her. He could see, Ellen... She just smiled and nodded as her eyebrows lifted.
He shook his head and laughed... "OK... I'm officially, tee total, gone 'round the bend" he thought, and laughed again, softly.
"That's funny?" Amanda asked?
"No... that's not funny" ... Ben responded; "A woman who don't know me from syrup, telling me exactly what's what... and being right... THAT... is funny."
"I'm sorry about your wife Ben... she must have been something to have kept you so torn up for so long... but... you have to make the choice, sometime, don't you? I finally did... don't you think it's time for yours?"
"What choice? What are you talking about?" he asked.
"The choice Ben... I had to choose, to live, or
choose to die." Amanda looked at Timmy sitting out on the porch, and back to Ben; "I chose to live... What do you think she would have you do?"
"So... you were a hooker huh? Seems to me you missed your calling" Ben told her.
"Oh? and what's that?" she asked.
"You should be settin' in a fancy office with the wall behind your desk all covered with your diplomas. And a fancy couch against the wall. You know, like those shrinks have?" he smiled at her.
"Yeah right... I could call my practice; Soiled Dove Counseling!" and they both laughed together.
"Well girl, you are more than you appear to be..."
"Well, Cowboy, seems like we have something in common" Amanda returned.
"Well, I hope that money you said you took for your fresh start is enough to carry you through. Having no place to live isn't another thing in common you're gonna want to have... I have to find some way to get you out of here... and get those horses caught up... I have to get them sold, and I have to get it all done, quick."
"So, Ben... I know it's being awful nosy... but... uh... how... uh ... far behind are you?"
"Seventy five grand to get me current... and not much more than a month to get done what I ain't got done in three years... pretty much every horse I can sell and likely some of my cows. That'll make it real hard to make it next year... but... guess I'll have to worry 'bout that next year... If.
"If?" Amanda asked.
" If... I survive this year." said Ben.
Amanda, having never had money of her own, appreciated the amount Ben had mentioned. Even living surrounded by the wealth of Tyrone, she'd been allowed none of her own. Any money she'd produced went in Tyrone's pocket, not hers.
The result was that though she recognized money as a necessary evil, she'd never had more than pocket money. She'd grown little attachment to, or hunger for, money. Though what she carried in her gym bag made her technically filthy rich, she hung small value on that cash, other than it being a tool to build her and her son a new life.
