Cowboy on My Mind

by R. C. Ryan

  Mary Pat had never married. No children of her own, and yet she enjoyed the love and respect of hundreds of kids in this part of Montana who through the years had needed help in homeschooling, medical assistance, or just a warm hug. She did the same for their parents, many of whom were so bogged down in the endless ranch chores, sickness, or everyday problems of survival, they felt overwhelmed.

  Mac took his time at the big sink in the mudroom, rolling up the sleeves of his flannel shirt, washing the dirt of the trail from his hands, wrists, arms, elbows, before stepping into the kitchen.

  The others were already standing around, longnecks in hand, discussing the day. In their midst was Mary Pat, copper curls threaded with gray, her face bare of makeup and pretty as any teen, wearing her trademark faded denims and plaid shirt.

  “Hi, Mac.” She saluted him with a beer.

  “Hi, yourself.” He accepted a longneck from Otis and ambled closer. “How’re things?”

  “Couldn’t be better.” She looked around at the smiling faces. “And your family looks hale and hearty.”

  “That they are.” He took a long drink to wash away the trail dust. Spotting the deputy badge on Ben, his smile grew. “I see you didn’t give it back. Does this mean you’re a lawman now, son?”

  “For now.” Ben returned the smile. “I told Virgil I’d give him a hand at least until spring.”

  Sam gave an exaggerated sigh. “Who’d have thought my big brother would be on that side of the law?”

  “Yeah. I hope you realize”—Finn nudged Sam—“you’ll probably be the first one he interviews whenever there’s trouble in Haller Creek.”

  Sam shot him a grin. “I hope you realize we’ll both be stuck with double the chores through the winter.”

  “Don’t count on me, bro. I’ve got a law practice now, remember?”

  “Some practice. Mostly drawing up wills, helping ranchers make sense of old deeds, and representing the drunken cowboys that start fights at the Hitching Post.”

  “A guy’s got to make a living.”

  “I’ve got a better way.” Sam gave his famous grin. “Shooting pool is a lot more fun.”

  Finn shared a laugh with Zachariah, who muttered, “Careful, Samuel. Pride goeth before a fall.”

  Zachariah turned to Mary Pat. “Would you like the honor of carving that roast, since you were the one to cook it?”

  “I’d be happy to.” She turned to the stove and picked up a knife.

  Mac stepped up beside her. “You were here all day?”

  “Long enough to volunteer to cook.” Over her shoulder she called, “There are biscuits in the oven if someone would like to get them.”

  The men pitched in, with Roscoe filling a basket with hot biscuits, while Otis set out a pitcher of ice water and glasses. Ben ladled gravy into a bowl. Sam set out a plate of steaming carrots.

  By the time Mary Pat placed a platter of thick slices of roast beef in the center of the table, they were gathered around, looking ravenous.

  Out of deference to her, they joined hands and waited for her to offer a blessing. It was something she’d insisted upon since she’d first paid a visit years earlier.

  She stepped up beside Mac and took his hand. “Bless this food, this family, and the roads we all travel.”

  “Amen.”

  They took their places and passed around the food. For long minutes the only sounds were the sighs of pure pleasure as they enjoyed beef that melted in their mouths and mashed potatoes as smooth as whipped cream.

  Mac looked over at the woman beside him. “I’d like to know what you do to make this so good.”

  “It’s my secret ingredient,” she said with a sly smile.

  Mac broke open a warm roll. “And what would that be?”

  “Love.” Otis, chocolate eyes gleaming, lips split in a wide smile, winked at Mary Pat. “That’s what my mama always said when folks would ask her why her food tasted so good.”

  Mary Pat couldn’t help laughing. “I like that better than the answer I was going to give.”

  “Which is?”

  At Mac’s persistence, she put a hand over his. “Garlic.”

  That had everyone chuckling.

  Mary Pat’s eyes crinkled. “You see why I like Otis’s answer better?”

  The old man gave a nod of his head. “Feel free to use mine whenever you’d like.”

  “Oh, believe me, I will.”

  Zachariah helped himself to a mound of potatoes. “Where have your travels taken you lately, Mary Patricia?”

  “Clear across this county and back. One night I found myself stuck in mud over the wheels of my van at the foot of the Bitterroot.”

  Roscoe nodded his head. “A lot of rain falling lately.”

  “And the runoff in the foothills was really high this year.”

  Mac turned to her. “How’d you get out?”

  She shrugged. “I dumped a mound of cat litter around my wheels. I carry it in my van for just such emergencies. Then I decided to sleep in my van and hope the sun would be bright enough by morning to harden some of that soggy earth.” Her smile said it all. “And obviously it worked, because here I am.”

  “And we’re glad of it. I’ve missed such fine cooking.” Otis circled the table with a pot of coffee. “Mary Pat baked a cake.”

  Mac looked over. “Is it somebody’s birthday?”

  Mary Pat was chuckling as she crossed the room and began cutting the cake. “I can see that you men are in need of a woman’s touch. Cakes aren’t just for birthdays.”

  “They aren’t?” Finn was grinning as she set a slice of gooey chocolate cake frosted with marshmallow crème in front of him. “You mean we don’t need an excuse to eat cake?”

  “Not in my world.” Mary Pat continued passing around their dessert until everyone had a piece.

  There was another moment of silence as they began to taste. And then the room was filled with the sound of murmured ahhhs, as they simply enjoyed.

  “You’ll stay the night.” Mac stated it as a simple fact. No question.

  Mary Pat nodded and watched as the three brothers tidied up the kitchen.

  Otis and Roscoe had already taken themselves off to the bunkhouse for their nightly round of gin rummy. Zachariah excused himself and went to his bedroom with the monthly legal digest. Though he was retired, he managed to keep up with all the latest cases handled in the local jurisdiction.

  “I always look forward to sleeping in a real bed.” Mary Pat smiled. “Not that I mind crisscrossing the county. I love my job. But after a few weeks, I need an anchor. Your ranch has always been that for me, Mac.”

  “I’m glad. Because you’ve certainly been my anchor through the years.” He gave a shake of his head. “I don’t know how I would have made it through all the ins and outs of the system, even with Zachariah’s help.”

  “Don’t kid yourself. He was your best resource. Zachariah has one of the sharpest minds in the law.”

  Finn turned to add, “Don’t I know it. My professors all knew his name.”

  Mary Pat nodded for emphasis. “In his day, Zachariah York was held in the highest esteem by the court and the judges. They knew if he represented a client, they’d better be at the top of their game.”

  Finn’s smile widened. “I’ve always loved listening to him talk.”

  “Me too.” Mary Pat turned to Mac. “As for me, I was happy to do whatever I could to cut through some of the red tape. The system is mired in rules and regulations that are supposed to be there for the safety of the children. But often they end up hurting more than they help.”

  “All I know is, without you and Zachariah, we’d have lost the battle.”

  Ben dropped a batch of towels in a basket and turned. “Okay. Kitchen duty is over. Anybody for a longneck?”

  At the nod of heads, he reached into the refrigerator and handed them around. After twisting off the tops, they moved from the kitchen to the parlor, where a fire burned in the hearth.

 
Mac pulled an easy chair close to the fire for Mary Pat. Then he and the boys settled themselves around her.

  “I’m glad you’re not still stuck up in the Bitterroot.” Sam was shaking his head. “I don’t know too many females who would find themselves in that situation and just go to sleep, hoping it would all work out in the morning.”

  Mary Pat gave him a gentle smile. “When you’ve been doing this as long as I have, you learn it’s best to not sweat the small stuff.”

  “Small? Stuck in the mud in the middle of the wilderness?”

  She gave a laugh. “Well, when you put it like that, I should have been terrified.”

  The others joined in the laughter.

  Ben took a chug of beer. “How did you happen to be in this work?”

  Mary Pat shrugged. “That’s a good question. Sometimes I ask myself the same thing. I started out as a public health nurse, visiting some of the isolated ranches here in Montana.”

  “How could you reach them?”

  “In the early years, I hauled a horse trailer, and rode in to some of the more isolated ranches on horseback.”

  Finn looked impressed. “So, you’re like those pioneer women of the Old West.”

  Mary Pat gave a warm laugh. “I guess you could say that. On my visits, I realized that there was a lot more needed than just a quick look at someone’s sore throat or a recommendation to head to the nearest clinic. During a visit, I would notice things like anger, depression, loneliness. So I went back to school and got certified as a social worker, as well. Then, when I saw how many children weren’t able to attend school because they were too far from civilization, I got another degree in teaching, so I could help them with at least the rudiments of education whenever I paid a call.”

  “You’re the medic, the shrink, and the teacher.” Ben arched a brow. “Pretty impressive.”

  “Talk about impressive.” Mary Pat gave a toss of her head. “Think of the changes brought about by the Internet. Now it’s all high-tech and high-speed. Thanks to the Internet, I can coordinate homeschool lessons, email them to everyone, and even put these homeschool families in touch with other isolated families, so they can plan an occasional field trip together, or just get together socially.”

  Mac was watching her as she spoke, eyes glowing, smile bright. “You love your work.”

  “I do.”

  “That’s good. Because I know the state doesn’t pay you nearly what you’re worth.”

  She chuckled. “Maybe you’d like to contact your congressman and put in a good word for me.”

  He returned her smile. “Like that would do any good. But I’m just saying, most people wouldn’t be willing to do all you do, for any amount of money.”

  “There are times when I think I’m crazy for doing this. Other times I think I should consider retiring. Especially on days when all I see ahead of me is work that never gets done. But then I run into someone who was at the end of their rope, and now they can’t wait to show me how they’ve turned their life around.” Her smile bloomed. “And I think maybe I’ll give it another day, or another week. Or maybe another year or so.”

  A faded photograph on the mantel caught her eye and she eased out of her chair to study it. “This is new.”

  Mac nodded. “Finn found it in a cupboard behind some things and wanted to know who the people were.”

  Mary Pat smiled. “There’s no denying that dimple. The little boy is you. The teenaged girl must be the sister you spoke of.”

  “My sister, Ellen.”

  “The one who ran off with a cowboy your folks had hired. Other than that, I don’t know much about her. You rarely talk about her.”

  He colored, feeling uncomfortable talking about deeply held family secrets. “Not much to tell. I was six when she left in the night with Shepherd Strump. We never heard from her again. My father went from worry to anger to outright rage and disowned her. From then on, there was a…distance between my parents. After my father died, my mother changed their will, decreeing that after her death the southern half of the land would be set aside for Ellen and any family she might have. Not long after, an official document arrived from the county seat, pronouncing five hundred acres adjoining this ranch would now be owned by Shepherd Strump, declared the legal husband of the late Ellen.”

  “I’m sorry to hear of her death. What do you think of her widower?”

  Mac shrugged. “Never met him. He’s never returned to work the land.”

  “How do you know if he’s still alive?”

  Another shrug. “I guess the county would notify me. Until then, that piece of land is declared off-limits to me and mine.”

  “How sad. Whenever I travel across it, I think how perfect it would be, with all that lush grass.”

  He nodded. “That southern parcel was always considered prime grazing land. But my mother’s will ended any hope I had of claiming it.”

  Finn drained his beer and got to his feet, wrapping an arm around his father’s shoulders. “I don’t know about you guys, but after doing double duty this morning so Ben could play lawman, and then meeting with a couple of clients, I’m draggin’ my wagon. I’m heading up to bed.”

  “Me too.” Sam handed his empty bottle to his brother.

  Ben walked to the kitchen to deposit the empties, then stuck his head in the door. “I just got a text from Virgil. He wants me in town tonight.”

  “I figured it wouldn’t be long before he’d take advantage of having a deputy.”

  At Mac’s words, Ben nodded. “He warned me that I was on the clock the minute I agreed to be his deputy. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  When they were alone, Mary Pat sat back, staring at the fire. “This is nice.”

  “Yeah. I was thinking the same thing.”

  “You did something really good here, Mac. I don’t mean just because you took in Otis and Roscoe and Zachariah and three homeless boys. What you did here is so much more.”

  He took a pull of his beer. “Yeah? And what’s that?”

  “You’ve made a family,” she said with a smile and then got to her feet. “Okay, I’m heading up to bed now.”

  He stood. “I’ll get you some sheets and blankets for that spare room.”

  “I know where they are.” She gave him a quick hug. “You stay here and finish your beer.”

  “All right. Good night, Mary Pat. Thanks for that grand dinner.”

  “Any time. Good night, Mac.”

  As she climbed the stairs, he remained where he was, listening to the sound of her footfall on the steps. He heard the click of the linen closet door being opened and shut, the sound of the door at the opposite end of the hallway being closed.

  And then the silence of the house closed in around him. He sank back down in his chair and stared at the dying embers of the fire.

  A glance at the old photo had him trying to remember the sister who had left when he was so young. All he could really recall was the tension in the house after she’d left so abruptly. There had been a chasm between his parents that never really healed.

  Maybe that was why the unconditional love of his wife, Rachel, and their son, Robbie, had filled him with such joy. And after their untimely death, such deep despair.

  And now, with the house brimming with life and love, with curses and laughter, he felt again that quiet peace that came whenever he had time to reflect on his life. It seemed more complete somehow whenever Mary Pat came to call.

  Odd. He could smell her here, at the open neck of his shirt, where her lips had briefly touched. That distinct scent of vanilla and some faint fragrance that reminded him of wildflowers in the spring after just bursting forth in the snow. So fresh and clean he wanted to breathe deeply and fill his lungs with it.

  That was the essence of the woman. Mary Pat Healy was a breath of air on a hot summer day. A whisper of a soft voice in a world of harsh and often coarse chatter. A trill of laughter that purely lifted the soul.

  She completed the circle of thei
r odd little band.

  He leaned his head back, content to just sit here, knowing that everyone who mattered to him was, for the moment, safe.

  And really, what more could a man want?

  Chapter Five

  Rebecca lifted a pan of biscuits from the oven and placed them in a napkin-lined basket.

  Across the room her mother was removing sizzling steaks from beneath the broiler.

  “I brought a bottle of wine. Should I open it?”

  Susan Henderson shot her a withering look. “For a minister?”

  “It’s Will, Mom. He drank beer and wine before he left for Atlanta. I doubt the years in divinity school have changed him that much.”

  Her mother gave a reluctant nod. “All right. I guess it won’t hurt to ask him.”

  They both looked up at the knock on the door and heard Hank’s voice calling a greeting.

  Before Rebecca could use the corkscrew, her mother gave her a push toward the doorway. “We can take care of this in a few minutes. Let’s go greet our guest.”

  Guest. There was a time when her parents had referred to Will Theisen as her classmate.

  Rebecca was shaking her head as she trailed her mother toward the great room, where she could hear the men’s voices talking in low tones.

  As she passed a hall mirror, she caught a glimpse of her reflection.

  If her father wanted something fussy, he would be disappointed. She was dressed in a simple charcoal sweater and matching slacks. She’d slipped her feet into black flats before walking the two blocks from her rental to her parents’ house.

  “Hi, Will.”

  “Rebecca. Mrs. Henderson.” Will was on his feet, watching as they crossed the room.

  Again he was dressed all in black, except that he’d added a suit jacket to his black pants and shirt. As before, the starched white minister’s collar was in sharp contrast to the dark clothing.

  “Oh, my.” Susan touched a hand to her throat. “Doesn’t our reverend look smart, Rebecca?”

  Rebecca smiled. “Very sharp, Will. You must feel a sense of pride at having achieved your goal.”

  He touched a hand to his collar. “I confess I’m partial to this symbol of the ministry.” He handed her mother a bouquet of roses. “For you, Mrs. Henderson.”