Cowboy on My Mind

by R. C. Ryan

  Ben shook his head. “I was trying to reason with him when he sucker-punched me.”

  Sam’s head came up sharply. “I hope you didn’t kill Leroy.”

  “It crossed my mind.” With a sideways glance at Mac, Ben reached for the gravy and poured it over a slab of roast chicken and a mound of mashed potatoes. “But I heard a certain guy’s voice in my head, warning me to cool off. So I managed to talk Leroy down off that cliff.”

  Mac gave a satisfied grin.

  “And then you flattened him?” Sam asked.

  “I…” Ben glanced around. “I reasoned with him. I told him the best revenge would be to walk away and leave the two lovers to deal with the mess they’ve made of their lives. If he’s lucky, they’ll have a dozen or so kids just like themselves.”

  There were hoots of laughter around the table.

  “Good one, son.” Mac reached over to clap a hand on Ben’s shoulder.

  “Yeah.” Finn nudged Sam. “Any man who’d sleep with Minnie Purcell has to be desperate, or out of his mind.”

  “Or in love.” Zachariah shot the younger men a narrowed look. “Not that you’d understand, Finnian, my boy, since you seem to avoid romantic entanglements like a plague, but my grandfather used to say there’s no accounting for love.”

  Finn had let his hair grow to his shoulders and was sporting a fringed buckskin jacket as homage to his hero, Zachariah. Fresh from passing the bar, he was settling in to life as a lawyer and rancher, just as Zachariah had done for most of his career.

  “Which is why I intend to remain single until Dad takes a wife.”

  His remark had everyone around the table grinning like fools.

  “I’ll remind you that miracles do happen.” Zachariah helped himself to more chicken. “Even your dear old dad could be bitten by the love bug. When passion flares, love isn’t just blind. It’s so dazzling to the ones involved that they can’t see the flaws that are obvious to the rest of the universe.”

  Finn shared a grin with his brothers. “But we’re talking about Minnie Purcell. Nobody can be that blind.”

  Zachariah bent to his dinner. “I’ll remind you of those words one day when you’re bedazzled by your lady love.”

  “I’m never falling in love,” Finn declared.

  “Me neither.” Sam gave a firm shake of his head for emphasis.

  “I’ll remind you one day as well, Samuel.” Zachariah was smiling broadly.

  Beside them, Ben held his silence. He’d been sweet on a girl for years. It had started when he first came to Haller Creek.

  He wouldn’t call it love. They’d barely exchanged more than a dozen words. He wasn’t certain, even now, what he felt for her. He hadn’t seen Rebecca Henderson in years. She’d left for college in Bozeman and never returned, but he couldn’t get her out of his mind. The feeling was different from what he felt for any other female, with the exception of Mary Pat Healy, but that didn’t count, since she was as old as Mac.

  Mary Pat was the county social worker, public health nurse, and traveling teacher who stopped by every ranch in the district every couple of months to look in on her students. It was Mary Pat who had worked with Zachariah and the county and state authorities to allow Mac to legalize the adoption of three homeless boys. It was also Mary Pat who persuaded Mac to remove the boys from the Haller Creek school and recommended they be homeschooled after learning they’d been engaged in playground fights on a daily basis. Most of the fights were fueled by Ben and his famous temper, because he felt honor-bound to defend his two younger brothers whenever they got into a scuffle.

  After convincing Mac to take them out of school, Mary Pat had become a regular visitor to their ranch.

  Years ago Ben had decided that if his mother had lived, she’d have been like Mary Pat. Smart as a whip, fun to be around, and the gentlest woman he’d ever known. It didn’t hurt that she had a smile that could melt the snow atop the Bitterroot Mountain peaks in the dead of winter.

  As the four older men enjoyed slices of Zachariah’s famous apple pie, Ben, Sam, and Finn gathered up the dishes and cleaned the kitchen. It had become such a ritual, they were barely even aware of it anymore. Whoever made the meal got to relax while the others assumed the clean-up detail. Most times, Zachariah took charge of cooking while the others handled the ranch chores or rode up to the range to join the wranglers tending the herds. Though the ranch had become an even more successful operation over the past years, it still took the efforts of all of them to maintain it.

  Years earlier Zachariah had arranged to merge his ranchland with Mac’s, adding to Mac’s property and putting even more money in Zachariah’s already hefty bank account. Not that it mattered. The old lawyer often said money was just paper. It was his generosity that had made it possible for Finn to go off to college and later a prestigious law school. The old lawyer actually turned his back on his own property so he could stay here and be part of Mac’s family. Family, even if not blood-related, was the only real treasure in life, according to Zachariah. Now, as usual, with dinner over, the old lawyer retired to his room to catch up on the fascinating cases highlighted in the latest issue of his legal journal.

  Otis eased himself up from his chair before turning to Roscoe. “You ready to finish that gin rummy game?”

  “I am. As I recall, I’m winning.”

  “In your dreams.”

  “I’ll be happy to show you the tally.”

  “I intend to take a close look at it and tally it again myself.”

  The two old men were still chiding one another as they called good night to the others and headed out to the bunkhouse.

  Sam tossed a couple of kitchen towels in a laundry basket. “I’m heading in to Haller Creek. Anybody coming?”

  Finn nodded. “I thought you’d never ask. I spent the entire day poring over bankruptcy law, corporate law, and criminal law, and now I just want to kick back.”

  The two turned to Mac and Ben.

  Father and son shook their heads.

  “You’ll be sorry.” Sam paused in the mudroom and plucked a Stetson from a hook by the door. “I’m in the mood to entertain the boys at the Hitching Post with my amazing skills on the pool table.”

  “Just remember how hard you’ve worked all week for your paycheck,” Mac called.

  “Don’t you worry. I will.”

  When the back door slammed, Mac and Ben shared a grin.

  Mac pulled a longneck from the refrigerator. “Want one?”

  Ben nodded. “Sure.”

  The two men carried their beers to the front room and settled themselves in a pair of overstuffed easy chairs set in front of the fireplace.

  “How’d you like working as a deputy for Virgil today?”

  Ben gave a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. “It was…interesting.”

  “Says the man with the shiner.”

  The two shared an easy laugh.

  Ben touched a hand to his swollen eye, knowing by morning it would be purple and green and painful as hell. “I’m just glad Leroy took his temper out on me instead of shooting Minnie.”

  “There was a chance he might have used his gun on you instead of his fist.”

  “He knew better. I’d have dropped him before he had time to pull the trigger.”

  Mac nodded, aware that Ben wasn’t bragging. It was a simple fact. “You’re a crack shot. That’s one of the reasons Virgil asked you to lend a hand. That, and the fact that you majored in criminal justice in those online classes in college.”

  “Thanks to Mary Pat and Zachariah. They both pushed me in that direction.”

  Mac chose his words carefully. “I heard rumors that Virgil’s injury is pretty serious. Did he talk to you about taking on the job of deputy full-time?”

  Ben kept his gaze on the burning log on the hearth while taking a long drink of beer. “He mentioned it.”

  “And?”

  “I told him it isn’t possible to keep up with the ranch chores if I’m going to be chasing p
eople around the countryside cleaning up their messes.”

  “There’s a lot more to being a lawman than cleaning up after people.”

  Ben smiled. “I’m aware of that. But you know what I mean. I can’t do both without having one job suffer at the hands of the other. If I have to choose, I’m going to choose to be a rancher like you.”

  Mac had to swallow hard before he could find his voice. The rush of pride had his heart swelling until his chest felt too tight. “Ranching is in my blood, son. It purely warms my heart to see all you boys following in my footsteps. But you need to know that you have a right to your own dreams.”

  “I can never repay you for what you gave me and my brothers. When we came here…”

  Before Ben could say more, Mac held up a hand to silence him. “When I fought in court to make you and your brothers legally my sons, I wasn’t looking for payback. And I didn’t do it so I’d have a few extra hands around the ranch to help with the chores. I wanted you to be free. Free of the system. Free to follow whatever path each of you chooses.”

  “I know that. And I’m grateful as hell. But I’m happy here.”

  “And that makes me happy. But there’s no law says you can’t live here and still lend a hand with Virgil, at least until that leg of his heals.”

  Ben set aside his longneck and got to his feet, pacing to the fireplace and back. “I’d have to spend some nights in town. Sheriff Kerr mentioned taking the night shift sometimes, when the state troopers aren’t available. With Finn starting his own practice, I’d be leaving a lot of the morning chores to you and Sam and Otis and Roscoe.”

  “We could all double up. We’ll be bringing the herds down from the hills to the winter range in the next weeks. After that, we can manage until spring.”

  Ben slumped down in his chair and took a long pull on the bottle.

  Seeing his mental struggle, Mac picked up his empty bottle and started toward the kitchen. “Why not give it a try, to see if the law fits. Then you can make a decision whether or not to make it permanent.”

  Minutes later, when Mac headed toward the stairs, Ben was still sitting in the chair, studying the fire as though it held all the answers to life’s problems.

  “Good night, Ben.”

  “’Night, Dad.”

  Dad.

  Mac hugged the word to his heart. Though his three sons still struggled with that quick-triggered temper they all shared, the curses that bubbled up from time to time, and the occasional nightmare, they’d managed to put a lot of their demons to rest. They’d grown into fine men who made him proud.

  And wasn’t that enough for any man to achieve in one lifetime?

  Chapter Two

  ’Morning, boys.” Otis turned from the stove and set a platter of crisp bacon on the kitchen table as soon as Ben, Sam, and Finn trooped in from the barn.

  Mac stepped into the kitchen from the parlor, where he’d been going over some bills, while Roscoe hung his hat on a hook by the door. Both Mac and Roscoe were dressed for a long ride to the herd in the highlands.

  Zachariah’s door opened off the kitchen, and he yawned loudly as he joined the others at the big, scarred table.

  Without a word Otis placed a cup of steaming coffee in front of him, and the old lawyer shot him a grateful nod before taking a long drink. Refreshed, he looked over at Sam. “Figured you might be playing catchup after last night in town, Samuel.”

  “Not when it doubled my paycheck.” Sam gave a cat-that-swallowed-the-canary grin.

  “That good, huh?” Roscoe winked at Mac across the table.

  Sam nodded. “A fresh batch of suckers just down from Calgary. Signed on to the Fisher ranch, and it was their first night in town.”

  Finn helped himself to several eggs, bacon, and fried potatoes. “It was a beautiful thing to watch my talented brother teach those yokels the basics of nine ball.”

  Mac raised an eyebrow. “I hope you left them with enough cash to last until their next paycheck.”

  “Barely.” Sam ate with gusto. After a late night of pool and an early-morning round of mucking stalls and hauling food and water for the horses, he barely took time to taste what he put in his mouth.

  Ben nudged him in the ribs. “You know they’ll come gunning for you next week.”

  “I’m sure they will, bro. But next time, they’ll be a lot more careful with their money.”

  Roscoe shot a grin at Otis, who was circling the table, topping off mugs of coffee. “I guess we’d better remember to head to town next week for the show.”

  Otis chuckled. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  Mac drained his coffee before looking around the table. “Anybody heading to Haller Creek today? I phoned in a list to Henderson, and told him somebody’d be over to pick it up.”

  Ben pushed away and got to his feet. “I promised Virgil I’d stop by his office today. I can pick up the order.”

  Sam nudged Finn and the two shared a conspiratorial grin. “You’re in for a surprise.”

  Ben shot his brothers a questioning look.

  Sam, the joker, was obviously enjoying the fact that he’d snagged their attention. “Last night’s news at the Hitching Post is that Rebecca Henderson came home to work in her father’s hardware store.”

  Ben kept his gaze on the floor, hoping nobody noticed his jaw dropping.

  “And there’s more. Willy Theisen’s back in town, too.” On a roll now, Sam grinned at Finn. “Only now he’s called Reverend Will Theisen. A couple of years at divinity school, and he’s practically a saint.”

  “Yeah. A living saint.” Finn chuckled. “At least according to Hank Henderson. I overheard a group of wranglers saying he’d bragged his daughter couldn’t do better than a man of the church who doesn’t drink, smoke, or swear. I guess that would leave the three of us out in the cold.” As an afterthought, he added, “I don’t know about you, but I just can’t picture Rebecca Henderson spending a lifetime with Saint Willy Theisen. Except, why else would the two of them come home at the same time?”

  Sam joined in the laughter. “Even so, I can’t think of any female I dislike enough to condemn to a life with boring Willy.”

  “Now, boys.” Zachariah struggled not to let his laughter bubble up. “What father doesn’t want to see his daughter marry a paragon of virtue?”

  “A paragon?” Sam clapped a hand on the old man’s shoulder. “I love it when you and Finn use those fancy lawyer words. That’s Willy, all right. A paragon.”

  Throughout their jokes, Mac studied Ben. Seeing his smile fade and his eyes darken with feeling, Mac picked up his empty plate and carried it to the sink. “Great breakfast, Otis. Thanks. Roscoe and I will be late.”

  “I’ll keep your supper warm tonight.”

  Mac turned to his oldest son. “Thanks for offering to pick up the order, Ben.”

  “Yeah. Anytime.”

  Within minutes the men had pulled on parkas and hats and were headed in several different directions. Mac and Roscoe rode their horses across a meadow that meandered up and up until it bled into a dense woods. Sam climbed into the cab of a flatbed truck while Finn, with no clients to deal with, pulled himself onto a tractor. The family recognized it as his way of clearing his mind of the clutter of the many demands of the practice of law.

  Ben looked over at Otis. “You need anything from town?”

  The old man nodded and handed him a slip of paper. “Got my list right here, son.”

  “How about Zachariah?”

  “His things are on the other side.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you at supper time.” Ben stepped outside and sauntered toward the barn, emerging minutes later in one of the ranch trucks. Seeing Otis on the back porch, he gave a wave of his hand and started along the curving gravel drive.

  As he drove, his thoughts were a jumble of images.

  Of Rebecca Henderson, the first time he’d ever seen her, looking so small and frozen in place as a boy on a revved-up ATV was heading straight toward her. Without a
pause, Ben had raced across the school yard and scooped her up, carrying her to safety. She was ten and he was twelve. When he set her on her feet, she’d offered him a breathless thanks before racing toward her friends.

  His thoughts shifted to the night of her senior prom, standing in the school yard wearing a pretty pink formal, with R.D. Mason’s corsage at her wrist.

  When Ben drew near, he realized she was crying, and the front of her gown was torn. When she blurted what R.D. had tried to do to her, Ben had hunted him down and threatened him with murder. Then he’d picked her up and carried her home. When her father saw them coming up the walk, and the tell-tale signs of a struggle, he’d thrown a fit and jumped to the wrong conclusion while phoning the sheriff. Hours later, when Virgil Kerr had time to sort out the facts, he’d phoned Ben’s father, exonerating Ben from any wrongdoing and praising him for being a hero. It took some explaining for Virgil to cool Mac’s temper when he learned his son had been forced to spend time at the jail while the sheriff waded through Hank Henderson’s ranting and raving. Then the sheriff had driven to R.D.’s house to confront him with the charges. The family left town that very night, taking only what they could carry in their truck. Little Haller Creek was glad to be rid of the town bully.

  Days later, seeing Rebecca in town, Ben had approached to ask how she was. Her face had turned a dozen different shades of red, and she’d stumbled over her words while offering her thanks. And then her father had come storming out of his hardware store, ordering her to get away from “that hell-raiser.”

  And now, after college in Bozeman, and several more years working there, she was back.

  Just as Will Theisen had returned.

  As much as Hank Henderson disliked Ben through the years, he’d made his approval of Will Theisen abundantly clear. Will had been a regular guest at the Henderson Sunday dinners for years until leaving for divinity school.

  Maybe their return was just a coincidence. Or maybe Hank would finally get his wish and his daughter would snag a minister.

  Ben drove the rest of the way under a dark cloud.

  He was torn between seeing Rebecca Henderson again after all these years and wishing he could avoid his first glimpse of her at her father’s store with Hank watching.