Luke's Ride

by Helen DePrima

  By nightfall the temperature had dropped and the wind had settled to a steady moan, rattling the windows.

  At six she called her cousin Greg to make sure everything was running smoothly at her mother’s house.

  “Good timing,” Greg said. “We just got the boys into bed. We’re loving the house. The kids are having a great time in the yard. I put up a swing on the old apple tree. We’ll hate leaving if you decide you want to move back in.”

  Katie made a split-second decision, burning another bridge behind her. “Would you like to buy it?”

  “Whoa. You’re kidding, right? It’ll be quite a while before we can save up enough down payment to qualify for a mortgage.”

  “I’ll carry the paper,” Katie said and named a price a bit under the house’s market value. “Figure out how much you can afford each month and send me that amount like rent.” She might rue her decision, but turning her grandparents’ home over to her cousin felt right. Her mother would approve.

  “Your husband came by asking if I knew where you are,” Greg said.

  “I figured he might—that’s why I didn’t tell anyone.”

  “Okay, but I’ll need to know where to send you monthly checks.”

  She hesitated and then gave him her post office box address.

  “Colorado—that’s awesome. I went skiing in Breckenridge with some buddies just before we deployed.”

  “I still don’t want him knowing where I am. Don’t let him push you into telling him.”

  Greg snorted. “Once you’ve been to Afghanistan, a pissed-off husband isn’t very scary. I don’t know how to thank you. Owning this house...” He whistled. “I can’t wrap my mind around it. Allie’s going to freak out. She’s got all kinds of DIY ideas, but we didn’t want to change anything without your say-so.”

  “Decorate away,” Katie said. “Mom would be happy to see another generation of Gabriels growing up in the old homestead.”

  She was warming Marge’s soup for her supper when her phone rang. She started, afraid for a moment she might hear Brad’s voice. Instead she recognized Luke’s number.

  “I’m uninviting you for Sunday,” he said. “Not a good time for you to visit.”

  The signal was poor, but she could hear the strain in his voice.

  “Of course. Another time, maybe.”

  “Hey.” His tone roughened. “I want you to come, but have you looked out the window?”

  “Not in a couple hours.” She drew back the kitchen curtain and looked out into swirling whiteness. “Snow this close to May?”

  “We’ve got more than six inches here already. We’ve been out all afternoon bringing the cows with calves in close, just in case this turns into the kind of storm that almost wiped us out when Dad had his heart attack.”

  “You’ve been out riding in this?” Surely he was joking.

  He laughed but with no humor. “I know ranching looks cool when the skies are not cloudy all day, but now is when the cattle need us most. Sitting by the fire with hot cocoa isn’t an option.”

  She heard a deep sigh. “And we lost a horse—we found her down in the snow. Sadie was nearly thirty. We couldn’t get her on her feet—Dad had to put her down where she was.” His voice shook. “Tom and I saw her foaled—we grew up with her.”

  “You lost an old friend,” Katie said, aching with pity for them.

  “We knew she was failing, but it’s still a shock that she’s gone.”

  “Can I do anything? I can’t ride well enough to help with the cattle, but I can make sure you guys get fed. I could babysit Missy and JJ.”

  “I dunno.” His words were slurred. “We’ll see what tomorrow looks like. I’ll call you.”

  “Luke, take care of yourself. Please.”

  “Sure. Thanks.”

  Katie puttered around the apartment imagining conditions at the ranch. She finally went to bed listening to the wind, unable to take comfort in her snug nest while thinking of Luke and the others battling the wind and snow. What if he fell? Would Dude stay with him or drift away with the wind, unaware? Would someone find him before he froze to death?

  She finally slept and awoke only when her alarm clock buzzed at six, rousing her to start prepping for breakfast.

  Pure new snow blanketed the town. To the north early sunlight tinted the mountains in shades of rose and gold. What had been menacing in darkness now glowed like a Victorian Christmas card—beauty and danger, two sides of the same coin.

  She longed to call Luke, to reassure herself he was safe, but he might be sleeping or saddling Dude or already out looking for the lost cattle. He had said he would call. She would wait.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  LUKE SLOUCHED IN the saddle, still weary after a short night’s rest. They’d all been up before dawn and riding out looking for the missing sixteen head—thirty-two, actually, cows with their calves. Even Tom, who really shouldn’t be on a horse with his back trouble, was riding.

  Luke had the shortest loop to search—the lower pastures—because he had only Dude while everyone else was mounted on fresh horses. He’d had good luck, though, finding two pairs huddled under the willows. The cows were chilled and stiff, shielding their calves, but able to stagger up the creek bank when he rode at them yelling and swinging his rope. They moved ahead of him now toward the trampled-down area where other cows were chowing down on the fresh hay Jake and Shelby had put out once the snow stopped around midnight.

  This storm could have been much worse. The last late-spring blizzard had persisted for three days. He and Tom had been a thousand miles away at a bull-riding event, fuming in helpless rage that they couldn’t get home to help. They’d lost more than half their herd and almost their father. Only Shelby’s quick action had gotten Jake to the hospital in time.

  He averted his eyes as he rode past Sadie’s snow-covered body. As soon as the herd was safe, his dad would dig a grave beside her with the backhoe. If she’d been on an open range, they might have left her to the coyotes and other scavengers for natural disposal, but not this close to the barn. He blinked hard—she had almost made it to shelter.

  To comfort himself, he fished out his phone and punched the speed dial for Katie’s number.

  “Luke, you’re okay?” she asked in an eager voice.

  He warmed at her concern. “Yeah, pretty much. We’re all dead tired, but we’re missing only a few head, and they’re probably holed up safe somewhere. We had the first-year heifers close in already, and the older cows know how to ride out weather like this.”

  “I’m sorry about your horse—you lost a piece of your childhood.”

  He hadn’t thought of Sadie’s death like that, just that he’d be looking for her in the horse herd for a long time. “Shelby’s taking it hard,” he said. “Sadie was the horse she rode when she first came here, while she was schooling Ghost. She’s never lost one she cared about before this.”

  “Almost thirty, you said. Is that really old for a horse?”

  “A good long life,” he said. “At least Dad didn’t have to worry if it was time to put her down. She took care of it herself—she was a pushy old gal.”

  After a brief silence, Katie said, “So you guys are all set—you don’t need me tomorrow?”

  “I’d love to see you, but you’ll have a better visit next Sunday. The snow will be gone and Shelby will have chance to fix something special for dinner. You like Cajun?”

  “The few times I’ve tried it. I’m game for pretty much anything.”

  “I know you are, darlin’. So we’ll aim for next weekend, and maybe I’ll call you sooner if the PT pans out like I hope.”

  “Please,” she said. “I’ll come and shake pom-poms on the sidelines.”

  They ended the conversation, and Luke rode on, warmed despite the cold wind
that still whipped the fresh snow along the ground in miniature blizzards.

  Tom met him at the gate. “I found three more pairs,” he said. “They’re hungry, but I think they’ll be fine.” Luke knew his brother hated admitting to weakness, but his face betrayed his pain. “I’d like to get off at my place if you’ll pony my horse to the home ranch.”

  “You shouldn’t be out here in the first place. I can’t believe Jo let you out this morning.”

  “She wasn’t too happy about it. She was right—I should have stayed home with the kids and let her go instead. Right now she’d be more use than I am.” He shifted in the saddle. “Home, James.”

  Jo met them on the front porch of their cabin. “Thanks for dragging him home, Luke. He should be in bed, but oh, no. He’s tough—he’s a Cameron.” She launched into a scathing description of her husband’s intelligence, or lack of it, while Tom dismounted an inch at a time, groaning aloud when his right foot touched the ground.

  He handed his reins to Luke. “I guess it’s safe to leave me here with Nurse Meanie,” he said, drawing a growl from Jo and giggles from Missy and JJ, who had joined their mother on the porch.

  “I think we have a walker at the house he can use,” Luke told Jo. “Left over from when he broke his pelvis.”

  “Use it yourself, buddy,” Tom said. “You’ll be up walking pretty soon.”

  “Hope you’re right.” Luke wheeled Dude away from the porch, leading the chestnut gelding while Tom limped inside with Jo still scolding.

  Jake was unsaddling Blackjack when Luke rode up. “You find any?” he asked. “And how come you’ve got Tom’s horse?”

  “I found two more pairs and Tom found three,” Luke said. “I dropped mine off with the bunch in the upper pasture. Tom asked me to leave him at his place—he could barely get out of the saddle.” He grinned. “Jo’s got a real mouth on her. She’s riding him whip and spur.”

  Jake grunted. “Good for her. Tom doesn’t know when he’s had enough—none of us do. Thank God we’ve got women to ride herd on us.”

  “Speaking of which...”

  “Shelby and Lucy are finishing their sweep in the south pasture,” Jake said, taking the reins of Tom’s horse and leading him into the barn. “We’ll tally up when they get in and see how many we’re still missing.”

  By the time Jake had unsaddled Tom’s horse and turned him into the corral, Luke had almost finished with Dude. The Appaloosa raised his head and let out a piercing whinny, answered by another horse at a little distance. Lucy rode into the barn on her paint mare, followed by Shelby on Ghost. Ghost snorted loudly at the gelding but walked past without nipping at him.

  “Seven pairs for the two of us,” Lucy said. “All the calves seem okay—they were nursing when we dumped the moms off at the hay drop.”

  “And I found two. I think we might have them all,” Jake said.

  “Except one.” Shelby fetched a rubber currycomb from the tack room and started on the ice crusting Ghost’s legs.

  “Let me guess—Jezebel.” Jake swore with real imagination. “I should have turned her into hamburger a long time ago, but I feel guilty she’s such a nutcase.”

  “Jake, it’s a ranch. Squeeze chutes sometimes malfunction.”

  “I know, but the dang little heifer was stuck in there for more than an hour.”

  “You’ve made up for it by keeping her around, and she does have nice calves. She’ll show up on her own, fat and happy,” Luke said.

  “Probably will,” Jake said, and they finished tending to their horses in silence.

  They returned to the kitchen for a late breakfast; they’d only been grabbing bites whenever they got a chance. Shelby put on fresh coffee while Lucy reheated the oatmeal still sitting on the stove.

  “No reason Katie can’t come for dinner tomorrow,” Jake said.

  “I’ve already told her next week would be better,” Luke said. “She understands. She offered last night to cook for us and watch the kids if the storm held on.”

  “She’s a good girl,” Shelby said. “She just needs space to work out her problems.”

  Lucy stared into her coffee mug without chiming in.

  “How was she to work with, Luce?” Jake asked.

  “Okay, I guess.” Lucy roused herself to speak with more energy. “I mean, she picked up the routine in a snap and she’s not afraid of hard work, but I don’t think she likes me.”

  “How did you manage to tick her off?” Luke asked. “She doesn’t seem like the picky type.”

  “I made the mistake of talking to her about Mike. She didn’t say much, but I could see she thought I should put on my apron and stay home like a good little wife.”

  Luke silently scored points for Katie. They had all resolved to stay out of Lucy’s career-versus-marriage tussle, but they sympathized with Mike’s position. Luke was sure he would have given up and moved on before now, but Mike had loved Lucy since he first made fun of her red hair in elementary school. She had whacked him over the head with her lunch box, apparently winning his heart forever.

  “Anyway, she’s taken Marge and the Queen off my conscience, so I’m grateful.” Lucy pushed her coffee away. “I’m going to New York as soon as you can spare me. This summer’s going to be a bear. I’d like to enjoy a little downtime before I have to leave for New Hampshire.”

  Jake opened his mouth, but Shelby put a hand on his arm. “Calving’s over, so we should be fine,” she said. “Be sure to visit Marge before you leave.”

  Tears filled Lucy’s eyes, and she ran up the stairs. Her bedroom door banged shut.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  KATIE CALLED MARGE after she finished her call with Luke. “I’ve been stood up,” she said. “Luke uninvited me for tomorrow.”

  “I don’t wonder,” Marge said. “How did they make it through the storm?”

  “He didn’t think they lost many cattle, but one of their horses died, an old mare they’d had her whole life.”

  “Like a death in the family—I’m not surprised they don’t feel like socializing. Come on over. We’ll work until dark—there are no lights in the attic—and then we’ll have supper.”

  “If you like, I’ll make a chicken pot pie. You can decide if you want to put it on the menu.”

  “Sounds like our day is planned,” Marge said.

  Katie stopped at Albertson’s the next day for a stewing chicken and then headed to Marge’s house. Someone had shoveled the sidewalk, but Katie cleaned the front steps and back stoop with a scruffy broom she found leaning on the porch.

  The perfume of sugar and spices greeted her in the kitchen as Marge pulled a pan of cinnamon buns from the oven. “We’ll need fuel before we tackle this project,” she said.

  In her anxiety for Luke, Katie hadn’t bothered with breakfast. She gobbled two buns almost without pausing, washing them down with coffee.

  “I guess that hit the spot,” Marge said. “You’d probably like fry bread, too.”

  “Fried bread? I’ve never heard of it.”

  “Ever have fried dough at a fair? Something like that but better. Have Luke take you to meet his Auntie Rose Buck. She makes the best fry bread I’ve ever tasted.”

  “As in Oscar Buck? I’ve already met him—I had to help Luke chase Oscar’s pet bull back to his side of the fence.”

  “My, you have gotten around. Put your chicken on to stew and let’s start on those trunks. I should have tackled them long ago, but it’s a boring chore with no one to rummage with.”

  “I’m sure Lucy would have helped you,” Katie said. “And Durango must have an historical society that would be interested.”

  “I don’t like strangers poking through my things,” Marge said with a mulish pout.

  Katie filed that comment for future consideration and donned
a faded work shirt over her sweater before climbing the pull-down ladder to the attic. Diamond-shaped windows at either end admitted adequate light from the sun on the new snow, but deep shadows hid the eaves and corners. Cobwebs festooned chairs with broken backs and bridge lamps with no shades. She tried not to think about spiders as she pulled a leather-bound trunk to the ladder.

  “I’m going to bring this down,” she said. “It’s too dirty to work up here. Do you have a rope? And put some kind of mat at the bottom so we don’t scratch the floors.”

  “I’ll find something.”

  Marge disappeared and came back with a length of clothesline. “Will this do?” She tossed it up to Katie.

  Katie wrapped the line around the trunk, not trusting the strength of the old leather handles, and eased it down the ladder. “We’ll scoot it into the kitchen so we can see what we’re doing.”

  At first they seemed doomed to failure; the trunk wasn’t locked, but the heavy latches refused to give.

  “WD-40?” Katie asked.

  “Under the sink.”

  After a liberal dose of the lubricant, the domed lid creaked open.

  “This could be good,” Katie said. She touched the layers of tissue paper covering the contents. “Someone packed this with care.” She looked around. “We need someplace to lay things out.”

  Marge threw a clean sheet over the kitchen table. “Get on with it—the suspense is raising my blood pressure.”

  Katie laid the tissue aside to reveal long kid gloves, fine handkerchiefs monogrammed ERJ, lacy scarves and an evening purse beaded in an intricate floral design. The workmanship was exquisite; the condition was pristine.

  Beneath the first layer they found embroidered camisoles, petticoats and nightgowns with long puffed sleeves.

  “You know what this is?” Katie asked. “I’ll bet this is some girl’s trousseau. But it looks like nothing was ever worn.”