Rocky Mountain Hero

by Audra Harders

  “Okay.” His grin grew wider as he set the camera on the island counter. “Can’t wait to see these pictures on our screen saver at home.”

  Neither could she. She shook her head at him and a strand of hair fell across her nose. She tried to brush it off with her shoulder. Frustrated with the entire chain of events, she squinted at her son. “Can I please have a towel?”

  “Here.” The arms around her shifted. Gabe offered his sleeve. “Let me.”

  She swiped her face across his sleeve and then jerked upright, glancing around for Jason poised with the camera. All clear. “I hate it when my nose itches and I can’t scratch it.”

  “I know exactly what you mean.”

  “Thanks.”

  His grin made his eyes shine. Melanie just stared.

  “You’re welcome.” He lifted her hands over the counter and shook until the fish and knife dropped from her grasp. The knife clattered into the stainless steel sink. He turned on the water and handed her soap.

  “Thanks, again.” Her knees braced against the cabinet door to keep from buckling as she washed her hands.

  “Not a problem. Glad I could help.” Gabe washed his hands and turned to Jason. “Well, these fish won’t fry themselves. Why don’t you help me set up the fire for grillin’?”

  “You mean a barbecue?”

  “No, I mean a fire pit out back. We fill it with wood, light a match and put a grill on top of it. Best way to have fresh fish.”

  Jason wrinkled his nose. “Well, if you say—”

  “Come, young grasshopper.” Gabe slid the fish into a large plastic bag. He sealed it shut as he walked over to the refrigerator and placed them on the top shelf. Attention on Jason, he nodded toward the door. “We will learn the way of fire.”

  Jason tracked across the room, a frown on his face. The two of them stepped through the door, Gabe explaining the concept of the pit grill. Melanie heaved out a sigh and leaned her elbows on the dark granite countertop. Her skin tingled and she ran her fingers across her cheek, afraid the last few moments would remain indelibly etched in her mind. At the sound of pounding feet, she glanced across the kitchen. Jason poked around the jamb.

  “Get the frying pan on the stove,” he whispered way too loudly. “I’m not sure about this plan.”

  Laughter from across the yard rekindled the warmth in her belly. Melanie looked out the window.

  Gabe waved for Jason. “Oh ye of little faith.”

  Melanie stepped out of Gabe’s house, snagging the handle of the screen door before it slammed into place. The natural-wood-finished porch lined with smooth pine rails wrapped around the house, the wide, shallow steps spilling into a yard filled with native grasses. A replica windmill sat in the middle of a patch of gravel, large stones arranged around it in a precise pattern.

  The entire setting reminded her of the clubhouse at a mountain camp she’d attended as a teenager. Each summer she’d spent two weeks of sun and fun at the edge of a lake surrounded by fellow campers eager to swim and canoe.

  Good times.

  Her muscles relaxed as she wandered over to the bench swing suspended in the corner of the porch. Stained natural like the rest of the woodwork and wide enough for two. A striped cushion fixed to the back and seat beckoned her to sit. The cushion fluffed around her like a well-filled down comforter as she snuggled deep. She pushed off with one foot and the swing took up an easy sway.

  A suspense thriller lay on a side table within reach, a pair of reading glasses beside the book. Cicadas hummed in the grass. Melanie sank deeper in the cushion and kept the rhythm of the swing constant with the push of her toe.

  In the distance she heard Jason calling Gabe.

  Her eyes grew heavy as she listened to the creak of the swing. Someday, maybe she and Jason would find a home like this.

  Chapter Nine

  “Hand me a couple more logs.” Gabe pointed to the wooden box with a chunk of wood. He tossed the piece into the pit as he kneeled beside the low stone wall. “Can’t have the fish-fry-and-marshmallow-roast fire die too quickly.”

  “I love marshmallows.” Jason bent over the edge of the box and came up with a cut log in each hand. “You sure about this fish fry?”

  Inquisitive to a fault, Jason hounded him over the logistics of a concept that seemed as simple as the dawn of time. Gabe shook his head. What did they teach these kids in school? “Not a Boy Scout, huh?”

  “No.” Jason wrinkled his nose. “Were you?”

  “All the way to Eagle Scout.” Gabe arranged the chunks of wood in the pit. “Figured if I was going to live in the mountains, I better know how to take care of things.”

  Jason tossed in a couple of branches and grabbed a longer stick. He jabbed at a log. “Sounds cool. Did you have badges?”

  “Yep. Had to wear my uniform to school once a month.” A sea of blue shirts and yellow scarves had filled the elementary school. “I had this red vest as a cub scout. As I earned my patches, my mom sewed them on. But the first time I wore the vest to school, I hadn’t earned any yet. All the older kids had tons of patches. That was the day I decided I was going to earn every one.”

  Jason’s mouth dropped open and he stared with blue eyes every bit the color of columbines in full bloom. Eyes just like his mother’s. Gabe took an extra moment before looking away. Everywhere he looked, he saw Melanie—a woman he’d met only a few days earlier.

  And who would be gone just as quick.

  “Did you?”

  Jason’s persistence brought him back to the topic at hand. Now he appreciated the effort he’d put into earning the honor. Back when he’d worked on his projects, he’d wondered at his ambition. “It took years, but I did. So did my brothers. We’re all Eagle Scouts.”

  “What does that mean?”

  It means you understand your responsibilities and stick around until they’re finished. Immediately, Gabe felt petty and unjust. Nick and Zac had their own lives to deal with. If he really thought about it, he’d gotten the best end of the stick, since he’d stayed on the ranch. Still, it wouldn’t hurt for his brothers to check in on their folks once in a while.

  Gabe stood and swiped his palm down his thigh. He caught Jason’s earnest gaze and felt even smaller than he thought possible. Attaining the rank of Eagle Scout had meant work and dedication, and unselfish service to others. A trait Gabe fell short of time and again.

  He knew Jason didn’t want to hear about the honor others read into the title. Maybe someday, but not now. “It means I know how to start a fire and grill a few fish over the flames.”

  Jason poked the woodpile with the stick. “Prove it.”

  “Oh really? Do I hear a dare?” On the last word, Gabe lunged at Jason and caught the boy off guard. Giggles erupted as Gabe lifted Jason into his arms. The boy curled up like a bug and wiggled just as much. Gabe stood his ground, tickling wherever his fingers landed. Jason tried to squirm out of his grasp, but Gabe tossed hay bales heavier than Jason. Eagle Scout skills weren’t required at the moment. “Give?”

  “Uncle!” Jason hollered the age-old surrender.

  “Enough?”

  “For now.” A large shadow passed over them. Jason looked up. “What’s that?”

  “A bald eagle.” Gabe pointed past the open meadow to the mountain range. “They have a nest in the crags of that ridge over there.”

  Jason shaded his eyes and stared. “Wow.”

  Gabe lowered his line of sight to his house. There on the porch, Melanie sat in his swing, her head propped against the cushion, her eyes closed. His stomach did a flip and he lost track of their conversation.

  The old swing never looked better.

  Melanie, Grace and Martin sat in camp chairs around the pit. Jason loaded his hundredth marshmallow on the stick. Gabe stood by the fire with Jason feeding the flames and showing her son how to keep the treat at a distance from the flames to toast it, not incinerate it.

  Melanie held her own stick, the white puff on the end consumed by fla
mes. She blew out the fire, pulled the blackened skin off the marshmallow and popped it into her mouth. Nothing better than charred marshmallows.

  She leaned back and fiddled with the pop-top of the soda can in the cup holder. Crickets chirped around her and cicadas buzzed in the dark. A slight breeze rustled the branches of the surrounding trees, the sweet scent of sage kissing the air. She closed her eyes and drank in the night. Peace and serenity. It had been so long, she hardly recognized it.

  Gabe’s gentle voice drifted from the edge of the fire pit. Jason asked countless questions and Gabe fielded them all with patient attention. His heart for children warmed her soul.

  Thank you, Lord.

  Hank came out of the kitchen with mugs and a tin coffeepot in his hand. “Best coffee you’ll ever taste. This pot’s been through campouts, hunting camps and more than its share of evening marshmallow roasts. Here.” He handed out mugs. “Now you tell me if this isn’t the best.”

  “Thanks.” Melanie accepted her mug and held it out for the evening brew. “You do it all, don’t you, Hank?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He held up the sugar. “Got to know how to survive in the wild, and if you don’t make good coffee you’re a dead man, no matter how you look at it.”

  She reached for the cream. “Glad to hear you plan to stick around awhile.”

  The conversation turned to coffee and tea, leading eventually to how good the brew depended solely on the quality of the water. The well water on the ranch was the best around. She had to admit, the water did taste crisp and fresh.

  “I know what we need.” Gabe turned back to the fire. “We need some music.”

  “That we do.” Hank set the coffeepot down. “The night wouldn’t be complete without campfire songs.”

  The two men headed toward the house as Melanie relaxed in her seat. The breeze shifted and a puff of smoke blew past her. She sniffed and sneezed.

  “You okay?” Grace handed her an extra napkin.

  Melanie wrinkled her nose. “Just the smell of nature.” She blew her nose as delicately as possible. “I’ve been to church, ridden a horse, caught fish, gathered firewood, and finished the best meal I’ve ever had. How much better can a day get?”

  “Well, how’s your singing?” Martin leaned forward and tossed another log on the fire. Sparks flew all around them.

  Melanie sneezed again.

  “Bless you,” Grace offered. “What you’re saying is you’ve had too much fun for one day?”

  “I can’t remember when I’ve done so much in one day.” She glanced at the log where Jason sat, poking the tip of a stick in the fire. So much family time.

  Gabe and Hank returned, guitars in hand. The two strummed a few chords and tuned up. Then Gabe began playing in earnest. “Oh give me a home, where the buffalo roam…”

  “And the deer and the antelope play.” Melanie joined in as all their voices rose to the words. Hank played harmony to Gabe’s melody. The guitars sounded great. She couldn’t say the same for the portion she contributed. When they ran out of familiar verses, Gabe chorded to a close.

  Melanie giggled. “Funny how you don’t forget the words to some songs.”

  “Classics, my dear, classics,” Gabe answered in singsong as he changed tunes. His long fingers glided over the neck of the guitar, graceful in their motion. The firelight danced in reflection off of the polished wood as the pick he held between his fingers worked over the strings. The tempo picked up.

  “I come from Alabama with a banjo on my knee.”

  “I’m gone to Louisiana where my true love waits for me,” Hank picked up while Gabe held his note. The two offered a duet that sounded suspiciously rehearsed. Melanie tapped her foot in rhythm. Best show she’d ever seen.

  Jason laid his stick on the stones beside the pit. She motioned for him to step around and join her. Displaying none of the energy he’d had all day, he skirted the crowd and slid up on her lap. She gave him a squeeze and hummed along with the tune.

  “Gabe and Hank play pretty good, don’t they?” She rubbed her face in his hair.

  “Um-hmm.” Jason wiggled around until he found just the right spot then began swinging his foot to the tune. “Wonder if he knows any Garth Brooks?”

  “Did I hear a request?” In true performer spirit, Hank scanned the crowd. “Did I hear Garth Brooks?”

  “Uh-huh. Know any?”

  Gabe said something to Hank over his shoulder. Hank picked a couple cords. Fingers began playing the strings as the opening bars to “Rodeo” filled the air. He grinned and winked at Jason as he began describing the bucking bull in the low voice made famous by the country singer.

  Jason bounced on her knees, fully awake now. He joined in as the men came to the chorus, shouting a rather off-key “Rodeo-o-o” of his own. Martin sat up and added his own flat harmony. Grace clapped her hands.

  Animation colored Gabe’s pitch, and the entire song became a free-for-all.

  Laughing so hard, Melanie thought she’d cry.

  The men strummed their final chord.

  “That was great.” Jason clamped his hands down on her thighs like vices. “Sing another one.”

  That half smile Melanie had come to search for on Gabe accompanied his humble bow. “Thank you, folks, for your appreciation of the music made by a pair of lowly cowboys. Now for something a little slower.”

  His fingers danced along the neck of the guitar as graceful as the hawks she’d seen the other day soaring through the air. Gabe hummed and picked at his guitar. His eyes closed, he appeared in complete worship. The tune became familiar and Melanie grew still. The words popped into her mind even before Gabe began to sing.

  “Praise the name of Jesus,” Gabe and Hank sang in harmony.

  “Praise the name of Jesus,” Grace joined in.

  Martin hummed. Jason swayed.

  She’d once belted out the words of the familiar song, swayed to the music. Right beside Paul, within the singles group. They’d sung the truth from the very bottom of their souls. He’d hug her afterward and they’d all go out to lunch at a café around the corner from the church. She’d clasped on to the joy, not wanting to ever let it go.

  Not thinking there was a reason.

  Ahhh, how times change in the blink of an eye.

  Her stomach knotted so tight her meal protested. Pain and anger rose; she tamped them down. They couldn’t hurt her now. Not anymore.

  Sucking in a deep breath, Melanie heard Gabe’s words ring thick with praise: “He’s my rock, He’s my fortress…”

  “In Him will I trust.” The words came out of her mouth as natural as breathing. Her mouth snapped closed. She’d trusted God and fell in love with Paul. All the girls drooled over him. She’d beamed when he’d shown interest in her. They’d worshipped together, attended the singles events together, went on dates with other church couples. God had answered her prayers by bringing Paul into her life.

  Jason swayed on her knees, his boyish voice singing the refrain, his shoulder movements familiar in a bizarre, déjà vu fashion. Melanie closed her eyes and saw Paul standing beside her in church singing the final hymn of the morning, his arm around her, his hand clutching the waistband of her skirt tighter than was proper.

  Lies no longer tempted her. But the deceit lived on.

  Her eyes snapped open, and the final chorus around the campfire wound to a close. She’d never allow herself to get hurt like that again. She kept her eyes open now.

  Melanie gave Jason a squeeze and cleared her throat. “Do we have entertainment for the picnic?”

  Gabe pulled the strap over his head and swung his guitar down to his side. “I think our local boys will provide the music. Hank and I will have our hands full penning cattle.”

  “Too bad.” She collected her thoughts as Jason raved over the music.

  “Well now.” Grace angled and stood up. “We’ve a got a few nights ahead of us yet. I’m sure we’ll have a chance to sing some more.”

  “You were great.”
Jason slid off Melanie’s knees, allowing the blood to circulate through her legs.

  “Yes, you were.” Melanie stared at Gabe, her emotions raw.

  Gabe tossed a chunk of bark into the glowing pit; his long lashes made even longer by firelight. His crooked smile warmed her clear down to her toes. “Thanks.”

  Martin stood up a bit slower than the rest of them. He rubbed circulation back into his left arm. “Time to call it a night. Work tomorrow.”

  Melanie stood and stretched. She lifted her chin to the black night sky dusted with crystal chips. “I have a meeting with Mrs. Wells tomorrow.”

  “Bright and early.” Grace nodded. “You’ve got a party to plan and you don’t have much time to do it.”

  “Amen,” Melanie whispered under her breath. Good thing—not too much time to plan. She needed to finish her obligation fast. She rolled her head from side to side and then stole a look at Gabe, meeting his curious gaze across the low-burning fire.

  Looks like that had gotten her in trouble before. Hadn’t she just relived the moment? She turned away and reached for Jason, almost pulling him toward the path leading back to their cabin.

  The next morning, Melanie trudged toward the ranch house. The connection with Gabe she experienced the night before unsettled her. Thankfully, she’d be spending the day with Grace and the ladies making menu plans. Jason had left a few minutes earlier, intent on finding leftovers from breakfast.

  The pickup stood in front of the house. Embarrassment rose as she remembered the muddy mess she’d made of herself and Gabe the day she’d met him. She rounded the truck bed and found RJ leaning against the door.

  “Mornin’, ma’am. Fine day for a drive to church.”

  Handsome in his own right, this lanky cowboy brought to life all that was country, from his worn boots to his crumpled hat. He made her smile with his own brand of laid-backness, but that was as far as attraction went.

  She had her hands full with the tingle she experienced whenever Gabe walked up. “Good morning, RJ. Have you seen Jason? I don’t want to make Grace wait.”