“I figure that running a ranch should be done out on a ranch, not locked up in some pretty office,” Mac had read her surprise at how plain and cramped the space was in the otherwise expansive house.
“Dad’s the same way. I think his office might have once been a broom closet. We kids always clear out when he goes in to deal with the paperwork because he usually comes out in a foul mood.”
“Happiest when he’s out and about,” Mac nodded and sat down at the “thinking” desk, which she’d take as a good sign, and indicated for her to sit across from him.
Julie tried to shunt the huge wall of worry aside and answer Mac truthfully, which wasn’t a very comfortable feeling when it came to her family.
“I’m not sure happy is a word I’d ever apply to Dad, but content might work.” During rare moments.
“That’s something you learn in Special Operations. You work hard, you train hard. But there is a time when you have to celebrate being alive. Really let your hair down and kick it out a bit. You ever do that, girl?”
The only image she could conjure up was galloping on Clarence over the empty fields. She wasn’t sure if that counted, so she shrugged uncertainly.
“You should do it, Julie. I’m serious. Take that young man you’re so worried about and go play.”
She wasn’t worried about Nathan. Not really. Though she wished she knew where he was.
Mac fished around on the desk until he unearthed a pen and a pad of paper. He made a clear spot by shoving some of the journals, notes, catalogs, and a couple of books about snipers over on top of more of the same.
He plopped the pad down on the desk and raised his voice to carry over the helicopter that was passing close over the ranch house.
“So, here’s the problem I’m thinking on.”
Nathan tried to remember how to breathe, “I thought you were going to hit the house.”
“Not a chance. I missed it by over twenty feet,” Mark actually swooped back down toward the ground on the back side of the big ranch house until they were skimming mere feet over the grass. “Man, it feels so good to fly again.”
“How long has it been?”
“Days, maybe weeks. How about you?” Mark swooped low over the cabins.
“I flew to Paris about a decade ago and spent five years there.”
“Airliners don’t count. Sardine cans of the sky.”
“Then,” Nathan swallowed hard and hung on to the edges of his seat, “never.”
The Bell JetRanger had three seats in back and two in the front. Mark sat in the right-hand seat and Nathan had the left. The clear plastic window offered him a fantastic view—a clear vision of whatever Mark was about to ram them into. But each time, at the last moment, he swooped aside. Not in hard, panicked moves, but as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
The engine and rotor were so loud that he could still hear them despite the heavy headset Mark had given him.
“Do you always fly so close to the ground?”
Mark’s laugh was bright over the intercom. “Depends on the mission. You fly a firefighter helo a hundred feet above the flames, give or take. I’ve spent most of the last five years up in a command plane. To you that would be two engines with propellers on fixed wings. About a dozen seats, but I needed it for speed and range, not for people-carrying. I flew that within a thousand feet or so of the fires. Far enough to stay out of the way of the helos and airtankers.”
“There’s no way that we’re a hundred feet above the ground,” their flight path slewed across a broad pond just over the rise behind the cabins that Nathan hadn’t even known was there. It looked as if there was still ice around the edges. There was also a sagging dock that was going to need some work before it could be a decent swimming hole.
“Do you skate?”
“Like Rockefeller Center? Ice skating? A couple of times, if she was cute enough to talk me into it. Fell down a lot.”
“Midwinter there’s good skating on this pond. I’ll get you some hockey skates and we’ll have a game,” he climbed up the far berm and headed out over the fields.
“Sounds good.” And it did sound good. Too bad he wasn’t going to be here by then. Nathan actually shivered when he thought about how close he’d come to not even being here by lunch. It had been a close call. Whether that was good or bad was a question he couldn’t deal with, especially while occupied with hoping he’d live through the next thirty seconds.
“On a mission, trying to stay out of sight, we’d be more likely to fly here,” and Mark carved a turn around a tree, then slid down until it looked as if the skids were brushing the grass.
Mark’s smooth moves still appeared casual, but Nathan could feel the silence of intense concentration settle over him. Nathan looked over but Mark’s mirrored shades reflected the racing prairie as if the landscape had become his actual eyes.
“It takes a lot of control. Have to think without thinking. Every movement is critical.” He narrated between shifts and jogs as he cleared the ground by feet and hummocks by inches.
Nathan felt a little seasick when he looked down. The window by his feet was so close to the rushing ground that all he could see was a blur—except when he blinked. Then, like a freeze frame, he felt as if he was standing on no more than a stepstool above the ground—the moment before it rushed out of sight underneath them.
“Blast it all, Lucy!” Mark cursed sharply and did something to the controls that jerked them harshly upward.
They cleared the cow’s massive horns by inches.
Far out—on Henderson land—Lucy was grazing on winter grass.
Mark circled her once from a couple of stories higher in the air. The cow watched them balefully, but kept chewing on her latest mouthful.
“It’s the curse of the demon cow,” Nathan shuddered. “You shouldn’t have brought me along. She seems to know where I’m going to be and just shows up.”
“Nah, I needed you as a second set of eyes.”
“To avoid stray cows?”
“Need to scout out some fishing trips. Promised Dad I’d lead one now and again. Do you fish?”
“I cook.”
Mark gave him a long, assessing gaze. “Heard some about the meal you made for Teton County’s most eligible.”
“Did she like it?” Nathan knew she had, but couldn’t help himself. He was so pitiful. Hadn’t he been on the verge of leaving for her own good just a few minutes ago?
“Mom said a real lack of leftovers came back from the dinner. So I’m guessing the answer is yes. Don’t you know?”
Nathan decided to keep to himself how truly pitiful he was about wanting to please Julie. Actually, it was something of a surprise quite how important that was.
Mark swooped low over the broad pastures that looked to go on for miles. The mountains that had loomed so close all week were getting even closer. Thankfully they now flew several hundred feet above the rolling prairie.
“A chef really only lives for two reasons. If he’s insanely lucky or practices for a lifetime, he may create a new flavor or a new dish that will outlive the moment of creation. The other reason is to make people happy with his food. Regrettably, knowing that he’ll probably never achieve the former, he is constantly convinced that he can never achieve the latter.”
“You really need to get a life, Nathan.”
“Tell me about it.”
Mark laughed easily enough.
“Instead, tell me what we’re doing out here.”
“We’re on a fishing expedition.”
“Fishing for what?”
Mark’s sigh was unexpectedly deep. “Fishing for a way that I can survive retirement.”
For over an hour, Julie worked with Mac on the future of Henderson Ranch. First, they’d verified that all the orders were in place for the yurts: bunks, fixtures, bathrooms, and the yurts themselves. They’d opted for all five the same, the medium-sized twenty-foot diameter ones which could comfortably handle up to six people wi
th a cozy sitting area for rainy days—though the main activities on those days would be down at the ranch house.
There was already a shower at the back of the main house. It had been for the hands to clean up back when the place still ran cattle. Mac added fixing that up to her to-do list, which had saved the size of the bathroom building up on the slope, though Julie wasn’t sure about that choice yet—when you had children with you, a shower close to hand seemed preferable. The spring workload was shaping up well for J. L. Building.
Then they’d looked over some of the ranch’s prime recreation spots. They both knew the good trails that were a mix of prairie to gallop on, woods to mosey through, and the occasional vista. But there was only the one remote fishing cabin out by the waterfalls.
“I’d like to add one a year. First, maybe a hunting cabin back against the primitive area.”
“Next, out by Old Baldy,” she tried to be careful about not overstepping her place. But each cabin would be a couple months of good work for her if she did well on these first jobs. “There are some great trails back there. The guests pay for the ride out to the cabin, then the horses get a day or two of paid rest while they hike themselves up the trails.”
“Make them happy to spend more for something that costs us nothing extra but some feed and a guide. The businessman in me calls that a win-win.”
“Nothing comes for free.” Then Julie nearly choked on her own words, because they were her father’s.
“Nothing but the best things. Those are always free.” So not her father.
Julie didn’t know what to say to that, so she kept her thoughts to herself. It sure wasn’t part of her experience. There was a cost, a trade-off to every decision in the Larson household. Pursuing her own future also earned her the brunt of Dad’s disapproval. While her brothers seemed to appreciate his focusing on her for now, she sure didn’t.
After she and Mac mapped out a couple more ideas—she was pretty pleased at coming up with geocaching of historical sites and especially spectacular views. Once the course was set, it would be a whole day horseback quest that didn’t even need guides except as protection in case they spooked a bear. Could even change it up each year with new sites and new routes.
Finally Mac tossed down his pen and pad, then pulled out a desk drawer, leaned back, and propped his feet on it.
“Like the way you think, girl. You know this land better than I do.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Ama and I have been here for just over fifteen years now, you’ve been on it your whole life.”
“I spent most of the time over there,” she pointed in the direction of Larson land.
Mac rocked his chair back on its hind legs and looked straight at her with steely gray eyes the same as his son’s. Other than that and his powerful build, they barely looked related. Mark had Ama’s dark straight hair rather than Mac’s graying blond. Though Mac still looked dangerously military, there was a soft kindness to his face that balanced him out. Mark’s steel-eyed gaze unnerved her even more than Emily’s used to.
“That’s not my point. You know the land, the Big Sky country. I came from Chicago. No way you’d ever guess how I became a SEAL, so I’ll just go on and tell you.”
Julie kept her smile to herself. By his casual manner and willingness to take the time to tell a story, he fit right in. Somewhere along the way he’d become Montanan, whether or not he knew it.
“I was headed to California to become a surfer bum. Fresh out of Oberlin, liberal arts education in French literature, and absolutely no skills.”
“You’re telling me you got Ama because you were a surfer bum turned SEAL?”
“No, I met Ama before I did either of those. My car broke down in Cheyenne, Wyoming, during the Frontier Days, so I wandered to the rodeo while they were replacing my starter motor. Ama was a native performer there and I’d never seen anything so amazing in my life as that tall Native American beauty. I was done and gone before her dance was half over. She’d never traveled but wanted an adventure, so she went to California with me on a whim. We both sucked at surfing, but I can’t begin to tell you how good that woman looked in a bathing suit.”
Julie tried to picture Ama Henderson as a bikini-clad surfer babe and simply couldn’t conjure up the image. She was still beautiful, but she embodied the serene matron of the spiritual connection to the ranch as if she’d never been anywhere but on this land.
“While we were surfing off Coronado,” Mac was tipped back and studying something far beyond the ceiling. “I’d watch the SEALs run on the beach during the day and sweep up all the great women in the bars at night.”
“But you already had Ama, right? She doesn’t strike me as the type to get swept up too easily.”
“True. I had her, but I wanted to keep her, too. That’s how I became a SEAL. Did it for her, and whenever I had to dig down and find that extra motivation, just thinking of her did that for me. We made a good life together. She and Mark joined me overseas whenever it was safe. Neither of us knew squat about ranching before Bart gave us the place to run. Learned a lot, but we weren’t born to it the way you were.”
“Well,” Julie thought about the ranch house, the property, the cabins, the horses, and the plans they’d just been working on for the future. “I think you’ve done a fine job of it, Mr. Henderson.”
“Thanks, Julie. Means a lot coming from you,” he thunked his chair down into place. “Enough jawing, as they say. Let’s go get ’er done.”
“Sure thing,” Julie rose to her feet.
As Mac led her back along the corridor and down the stairs, he muttered as if speaking to himself, “Whole life changed because of a shorted-out starter motor.”
Julie missed a step and might have tumbled to the bottom if it hadn’t been the last one.
All because his car broke down.
“Now this is a sweet spot.” Nathan lay back in the grass and watched a lone cloud slipping through the blue sky like a giant cotton ball.
Mark had landed them by a high lake well to the south of the waterfall. With the excuse, “Just need to see what’s biting here,” he pulled out a fishing pole he’d stashed aboard the helo and was soon casting a line out over the pristine water.
It was a fair-sized lake, wandering back into the deep trees for almost half a mile. While Mark fished, Nathan had explored. A lively creek drained to the north. He pulled out his phone and snapped a couple of pictures of Mark casting, thinking he’d send them to his friends still in New York—they’d never believe where he was—except he’d have to wait to send them until he found a signal again.
“Welcome to the wilderness.”
He’d finally returned to the helo, grabbed a horse blanket from the supplies in the back, and lay down on the grass to watch the day. He hadn’t truly stopped since getting here. Cooking with Ama to feed the hands. Talking to Julie. Kissing her. This morning’s pre-sunrise “horse” lesson, provided equally by both the woman and the horse in question. Except for his sore behind, he thought it had gone well. Clarence wasn’t nearly as intimidating close up as he had been in the evening light out on the road.
Nathan was utterly exhausted by the uncertainty of his life. His struggle to leave this morning without even seeing her one last time had almost broken something inside him. He had nowhere to go. Nowhere to be. Whatever came next—
Mark’s soft whistle from fifty feet along the bank had Nathan looking back down from the sky. A trio of the ungainliest animals he’d ever seen had wandered down to the lakeside not a hundred years away.
“Moose?” he whispered. He’d never seen a moose.
“Elk,” Mark whispered back. “I think. Not a lot of either in Iraq or Afghanistan.”
The trio ignored them as they waded into the frigid water. There was a baby that was nearly as big as Clarence, a monstrous bull with a rack of horns which might even be bigger than Lucy’s, and the mama in-between. “What do they call the mother?”
“A cow. Bull
, cow, and calf.”
“You’re closer. Does she look demonic? I have really bad luck with cows.” They’d been slowly raising their voices toward normal speech, but the elk’s, or moose’s, reactions were only a twitching of the ears.
“Usually people worry about the bull,” Mark checked for him. “Looks more like she’s just happy to be in a bath and away from Junior.” The young one was playing in the shallows, barely in the water up to its knobby knees.
“An elk family,” Nathan sat up and shot a photo with his camera so that he could ask Julie when he saw her. If he saw her. If he didn’t just grow a pair and climb in his car to go as soon as Mark flew them back. He took another, this time of the angler and the critters together. Actually, that one would make a great publicity shot; he’d even caught the nose of the helicopter in the frame. Even if he left, he’d send it to Ama for the Henderson Ranch website.
“Or moose. I’m really not sure.”
“Maybe it’s some kind of weird crossbreed that only happens in Montana. A melk?” He could picture it being a melk.
Then with a flick of water, Mark’s line snapped tight. In moments it was racing off his fishing reel.
“Grab the net!”
“Don’t you have to land it first?” But he tossed the horse blanket back in the cargo hatch and dug around until he found a net.
Mark was slowing the spool, but the line was still growing longer. Nathan didn’t like the angle.
“It’s going straight for the moose, or elk. Don’t let it—”
But it was too late, the racing fish had dragged the fishing line across one of the moose’s legs. The big bull levitated straight out of the water with a loud sound that was half bray and half honk.
When it landed back in the water, it glared in their direction.
“Uh-oh!” Nathan began edging back toward the helicopter. “I’ve had some experience with this. If Lucy had looked like that, not even Julie could have rescued me. Let’s go.”
“But I’ve got a fish,” Mark’s voice was nearly a whine. But he too began backing away. As he did, it must have moved the line, this time the big bull didn’t levitate, he roared.
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