"That's something ain't it?" he said, pointing out the window towards the sunset across the open field. "I tell ya, it's one of my favorite things about this place. Every sunset is beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. And ya know, other things as well."
"Hm?" she said, her arms swinging slightly by her side. She felt weird, she felt as if she could jump his bones right at that moment.
"Oh ya know, just beautiful things. They're everywhere around here," he said, looking out the window.
Was he coming onto her, she wondered. Was he attracted to her, maybe even just a fraction as much as she wanted him right now? She didn't want to hope for that. She didn't know if she could control herself in that situation. She had barely, if ever, felt this way towards a man. It made her uncomfortable, and yet she knew what she'd be thinking about tonight. This could very well be what the dream was all about. Even though the more she thought about it, she wasn't interested in wearing pink dresses. It was always the small details that bothered her.
Maybe, she thought, she should ask him out, and then everything could be less awkward. She would call his bluff, and then, he would reject her and she'd be able to think about it all a lot less. And she could move on with her life, thinking about other people, instead of this man who she couldn't possibly have.
"Uh, Clark," she whispered. Here we go, she thought, let's do it, let's get it done. Gotta get it done, she told herself.
"Hm?" he said, turning and looking at her. His pale green eyes fixed on her. He pushed his sleeves up, exposing more of his sun bronzed arms, their muscles firm and yet not gaudy.
"Yeah, I was thinkin' about stuff, and--"
"You folks gettin' along? Don't fire this one Lilith, he's becoming my favorite," smiled Saul, interrupting Lilith as he strode into the room. "Between you and me Clark, I really hope she becomes the boss around these parts. Anyway, everything checks out I suppose, I filed it away. You gonna put them back out in the field?"
Lilith's moment had been ruined, and now she'd have to figure out another way, and maybe another time to ask him. Or something, she thought. At least he worked on the ranch, that much was a small victory. She chuckled to herself, thinking how much she'd changed since the previous time she had seen him. Now she wanted to see him again. She wanted to see more of him. Hell, she thought, she wanted to see all of him. She stole a glance at him and nearly sighed out loud. She really wanted to see him again.
"Yes sir, I will, right away," he said.
"And Clark, I need you to get together a list of all the cows that are remaining out there. It might not be worth our time to go after the rest," said Saul. He really wanted all his damn cattle back, but it might not happen. He believed he had to be prepared to lose more than a few.
"Yessir, I will do that. Lilith it was great to see you again," he said.
"Yeah, uh, sorry 'bout the coffee," she said. "Maybe next time you can spill it on," she stopped herself before anything else silly came out. "Yeah, anyway, have a good night," she finished and slumped back in her chair. She was a doctor, goddamnit, and she needed to behave more like that and less like a teenage girl. She was sure she would scold herself later, and possibly forever.
Clark nodded and walked out, smiling and chuckling. Saul looked at Clark's back and then to Lilith. "You gettin' coffee with Clark?"
"No no, I was getting coffee the other day a ways out there, and I wasn't lookin' and I just smacked right into him. Apparently ruined his shirt," she said, trying to keep the nervousness out of her voice.
"Yeah. Best keep your distance from him. I like him, I think he's tryin' to make a good impression, but I dunno about you and him," he replied, sitting back down. He really didn't think any ranch hand was good enough for Lilith.
"What makes you think me and him couldn't work?" she said, incredulously. "Why jump all the way over there?"
"He's a felon," Saul said, biting into his cold steak. He wasn't sure why he told her that, but he felt more than a little pleasure at doing so. He knew that his only daughter had more willpower than most men, but if he could do anything to just nudge her in the direction he liked, he had decided a long time ago that he would do it.
He had declared Clark's criminal status with finality, and it showed on Lilith's face. She now understood what he had meant that other employers weren't kind to him. "What, uh, what did he, uh, what did he do?" she said, twirling her hair around her finger.
"Murder."
Well, that's something, she thought, turning to stare at the sun behind the mountains. She needed a drink.
CHAPTER FIVE
A summer rainstorm had moved swiftly over the mountains, and Lilith woke to rain pelting the windows and leaking from the ceiling of her new room. New to her anyway, she reminded herself. She hoped Grandmother Aggie had also found reason to be drenched in morning rain. It was somewhat comforting to consider the possibility that both their lives were similar in some way. Aggie had always been portrayed as a rough and tumble woman, ready to take on the world, if only to conquer it, rather than enjoy it.
Lilith laid in bed, staring at the droplets of water as they drip, drip, dripped all over her blanket. Perhaps she should ask Marty to fix the ceiling, but he probably had a lot of work to do. She would have to endure it or, she thought, perhaps she should fix it herself.
Spurred on by the possibility of emulating grandmother Aggie, she tip toed downstairs, not knowing the time, and not wanting to wake up her father. She knew that her father kept some rudimentary supplies for just this sorta situation in a side closet. Her bare feet padded along the stone floor in the most neglected wing, the South Wing, and towards the supplies closet.
This was the wing of the house that held most of her father's oldest memories. Saul had mentioned that when his stepfather died, he had uttered the word 'finally.' He had moved the entire house from the South Wing into the other side of the house. While he was adamant that he loved his stepfather, he didn't want to live in the same part of his house as his mother ever again.
She could feel her heritage in the stone floors, almost imagining the subsequent generations of rancher's sons and daughters marching down the hallways, perhaps to the tune of an older, better era, when the ranch would host parties and dances, rather than tend to leaky ceilings. She supposed her grandmother was the first and last generation to experience it, as Lilith's great grandfather was the only one who loved mining, money, and more wealth. Or at least, that's how Saul put it.
The Hollidays were humble people and one generation's blight and extravagance was what remained of a brief moment in one patriarch's life. At least, this was the way it made sense to Lilith. She would probably never understand Saul, let alone the bygone generations that came before her father.
She found the closet with the supplies, hidden in a dusty back hallway, and proceeded to take out caulk and a drywall knife. She didn't think she needed anything. She was light on her feet as she found her way back to her room. The floors had gotten colder, she thought.
She climbed on top of the couch, trying to reach towards the ceiling. She could barely reach it. She tried to spread the caulk on the crack, smoothing it with the drywall knife. While she couldn't reach it, she tried using the drywall knife's shape to poke the caulk into place. She thought it was a temporary solution, but she had no idea how wet the ceiling was, and with one thrust of her knife, the ceiling let go and a torrent of water drenched her, and the rest of the room.
She stood, dripping and cold, on the couch, cursing not only her luck but also her own hubris for thinking she could have been as rough and tumble as Grandmother Aggie. Aggie could have fixed the ceiling, but Lilith had ruined it and probably the room itself. Water stood pooled in the sagging floor, the hole in the ceiling the size of Lilith's head.
She looked around the room, and not finding a towel, she used her blanket, sheets, and whatever else in the room to try and sop up the water. It was the best she could do, but she'd have to tell her father sooner rather than later.
/> She stared up at the hole in the ceiling and saw something curious. She thought she could see the edges of a parcel of some kind. She stood back on her bed, trying to ignore the water that squeezed itself out of the couch with each step, and used the drywall knife to try and push the parcel out of its spot. It fell to the floor with a squish.
It was a leather bundle in several overlapping layers. She untied the bundle and found thankfully dry pages inside. In exceedingly legible script, the pages read, "The Diary of Agnes Holliday, Future Heiress of Holliday Ranch and Associated Properties." Lilith almost snorted with laughter. Grandmother Aggie now sounded less rough and tumble and more professional and uptight. In her head, her grandmother would never have used proper grammar. But then again, she reminded herself, her great grandfather was always putting on airs, or something.
She tucked the manuscript under her arm, not sure if she would tell her father about it just yet. One thing was clear though, she would have to tell her father about the hole in the ceiling. He would not be happy about it, but at least she could temper it with the idea that she as trying to fix things with her hands, rather than running for help when it was just an annoying drip. She doubted that would work, but she'd start off by calling him daddy, rather than dad. That should smooth over the worst of it.
#
Her father had taken it better than she had expected, just nodding and going back to work. Perhaps it was because he didn't really know what to make of it until he went upstairs to see the damage for himself. Most likely, or so she hoped, he had taken pity on her and her drenched state. He told her to shower and get ready for the day. He wasn't sure if he was going to be around the entire day, he might have business across the state to overlook some new business opportunities.
She had taken that as a cue to stay out of his way. She went upstairs, tried to clean up as much as possible, spreading paper towels, regular towels, and also dirty laundry around the room in an attempt to tame the unruly water. By the time she was finished, she had succeeded in making the room smell like damp and dirty laundry. She tried to rationalize that as an improvement.
Stepping into the hot shower, after being soaked in cold water, was like stepping into heaven. Saul had always taken hot water seriously, and now she understood why. After any sorta back breaking labor, a hot shower could really help ease everything back into place. Despite her attempt at being a handy-woman, she decided it was back breaking labor.
She made coffee and started to flip through the diary. It was written on thicker paper than she was used to, in beautiful flowing script. It was easy to read, and she realized that it was written by her grandmother when she was in her mid twenties, during the Great Depression. She hadn't legally adopted her father yet, and her father liked to talk about his mother being a true trooper for having a kid in her thirties during the '40s.
Before she could continue, she saw Pistol's shiny truck drive through the ranch and towards the main house. He had used one of the ranch's side gates, instead of coming up the long gravel road, and while she didn't mind, she knew her father probably would. She'd have to remind him not to do that. Those gates were for ranch business only.
He drove fast through the property, probably trying to show off, and parked near the main entrance and bounded inside. They had, had that sort of relationship from early on. Both of their homes, even though they were vastly different, had an open door policy between the two of them. Thinking about it, she realize that she had become close to Pistol and Marty in a way that she had never been with her mother or father. Perhaps, she thought, she should have gone to Pistol's father's funeral. Or even answered his text messages. She sighed, forcing herself not to dwell on past indiscretions.
"Howdy," said Pistol, taking a stool in the kitchen with her. He slid a book across the kitchen island.
"What's this?"
"I borrowed it in high school, and here I am now, fulfilling my promise to give it back to you."
She picked it up, it was a battered old copy of "The Picture of Dorian Gray." "Well, thank you I suppose," she said. "I only asked for it about a thousand damn times."
"Well, I just found it. I was going through some of my old things at my dad's place and there it was. And I thought to myself, I should just go drop this off right now," said Pistol. He grabbed a mug out of the cupboard and poured himself some coffee.
"What do you want Pistol?" said Lilith, sighing and staring at him. He had always been this way, a brown noser just up and until the moment when he needed something from anyone. She had always dealt with it, and with Marty around, she had a time rationalizing not helping others when her father had done so much for him. Not that he hadn't earned it, she reminded herself.
"Well, I was wondering if your father needed any help or anything," he asked.
"You could ask him yourself," she replied.
"Yeah, I could, but it'll mean more if it comes from you."
"Is this all you came over for?"
"Well, also because I would love to hangout with you more often, and I thought, I might as well put the effort out because I know you won't."
"Really makin' me wanna help you, Pistol."
"I try."
"Alright, hold on to your britches. I'll talk to him. I'll let you know," she said.
"Oh. You're gonna ask him right now?"
She pointed out the window towards the field. Her father's truck sped off through the ranch, going towards whatever business he had. "He's gone, but I'll ask him when he comes home. But to be honest, he might be less amenable today."
"What'd you do?"
"What makes you think I did something?"
Pistol stared at her.
"Ok, I tried to fix the ceiling."
"You broke the ceiling?"
"And soaked everything," she said. "It was a difficult morning."
"I see. So you're not gonna be able to help me," he said.
"I said I'll talk to him. So that's what I'll do. You know I can't promise anything," she said. She looked outside again, noticing Clark walking towards the house.
Pistol noticed him too. "Oh jeez. Clark. Ya know, every time he's around, I feel like less of a man? I bet you feel something too, down in your nether regions."
"Don't bring up my nether regions while he's around," said Lilith. She had tried to keep Clark out of her mind since her father told her that he was a convicted murderer. "Did you know that he's a murderer?"
Pistol sipped his coffee and looked at her, confused. "So what?"
"What do you mean so what?"
"Oh. I see. You haven't talked to him about it."
"What?"
"Look, this is his thing. All I can say is that you should talk to him, hell talk to anybody before making up your mind about them. He's a good guy. I can vouch for that," said Pistol.
"Maybe you should ask Clark for a job."
Clark knocked on the window, gesturing to come inside. Lilith waved him in. He knocked his boots against the side of the house before stepping over the threshold. That, she thought, was the way it was supposed to be done.
"Hey Lilith, have you seen your father? I need to ask him something," said Clark. "Oh, hey Pistol, what're you doing around these parts?"
"Well, I was asking Lilith if she could ask Saul to hire me again," said Pistol.
"I'll put in a good word too," said Clark, smiling.
"My father is out. He had business across the state. Or maybe Idaho. Or Wyoming. It's really hard to tell. No idea when he'll be back. Maybe I can help you?" she said. She smirked on the inside. Yeah, she'd help him with whatever he wanted. Perhaps a physical.
"Oh. I uh. I found another auction." He took a piece of paper out of his breast pocket and handed it to Lilith. "I think they're auctioning about 30 head of ours. I talked to the head of the auction, and he said we can talk to the current owners to try and figure something out. I was hoping your father could sign off on it, or maybe come down with me this time."
"How far away is it?" asked
Pistol. Lilith glared at him. Her male friends never could keep their noses to themselves.
"A few hours. Not far," Clark responded.
"I'll come with you," said Lilith, surprising even herself. Something about acting and reading about Grandmother Aggie made her want to strike out and do something.
"Oh yeah? Uh, I don't wanna step on your father's toes," said Clark. He took a chance himself, "but I'd love if you came along, actually."
"Alright, so it's decided. Lemme find some shoes and we'll take my truck. And Pistol here will make like a good cowboy, and get the hell out of Dodge," finished Lilith.
"You got it," said Pistol, bolting for the door. "Just ya know, talk to your father, and Clark, put in a good word please!"
"You got it Pistol. I'll be here waiting Lilith," said Clark.
Lilith ran her hands through her hair, not really understanding what had just occurred, but hoping that she was following in the footsteps of Grandmother Aggie and going after her man. She didn't know if Grandmother Aggie had actually done that, but she decided it was probable.
Sure, Clark was a convicted murder. Sure, Clark was a felon. But she didn't know anything about him. Maybe it was time to do just that.
#
"This is all you're gonna fucking give me for the damn cows," growled Lester McGuinness. "I was sold these cows fair and square."
"Technically sir, they were stolen," said Clark. He looked pleadingly to John, the head of the auction.
"Ain't my damn problem. You give me a fair price," said Leseter. "You give me a fair price, or we'll see how much they get on the auction floor."
"The McGuinness and Holliday families have had a particularly copacetic relationship over the course of their existence. We even shared livestock Lester. I think there's a marriage in there somewhere," said Lilith, trying to find something to give her leverage.
Finding Him at Home (Holliday Book 1) Page 6
