Shadows from the Past

At least he appreciated common sense. Kam felt her hammering heart slow down a tad. She liked Rudd Mason. He seemed very laid-back, easygoing and able to communicate. “Yes, sir, I have. Usually on villagers. I never had to use it on myself.”

“You ever work with older folks, Ms. Trayhern?”

“Old as in…?”

“My mother, Iris Mason, is eighty-two. She’s the one who needs taking care of. She lives here with us.” He waved his hand in the direction of the rest of the ranch house.

“I’ve dealt with villagers in Africa and Eurasia who were very old,” Kam said. “And I used my EMT knowledge to help them. I think I put in my rеsumе that I had never actually been a caregiver.”

“Right,” Rudd rumbled, “you put that in here.” He poked at the paper. “You get along with the elderly okay?”

“I think I do. In my business as a photographer I meet all kinds of people of all ages and nationalities. I try to be a good listener and keep my own stuff out of the way.”

“Humph.”

A lump began to form in Kam’s throat. She saw Mason frowning and studying her rеsumе again. Struck by how lean and scarred his brown hands were, she began to understand how much this man battled the harsh elements of this state.

“Ever deal with a cranky senior?”

When he lifted his head and nailed her with that dark look, Kam gulped inwardly. “Well, uh, anyone can get cranky from time to time.”

“My mother is headstrong, opinionated and stubborn, Ms. Trayhern. You can’t sweet-talk her, and once she’s got her mind made up, nothin’ is gonna change it.”

“Oh, I see. That kind of cranky.” She saw the left corner of Rudd’s mouth twitch upward.

“Yes, missy. The doctor tells her she has high blood pressure and she won’t take her medication. She’s already had a TIA, a mild stroke, but she won’t take the medicine to lower her blood pressure so she won’t get another one.”

“Ouch,” Kam murmured sympathetically. Clearly, Rudd Mason was worried about his mother, but he seemed helpless to get her to change her mind.

“Yes, ‘ouch,’” Rudd dryly agreed. “My mother is a tough ol’ buzzard. She’s lived on this ranch since she married my father, Trevor, at age twenty. My father’s dead now, but she runs this family ranch in his stead.”

Kam nodded. “A true matriarch.”

“You could say that.”

His dry sense of humor rubbed off on her, and Kam met his slight grin beneath the mustache. There was nothing to dislike about this man so far. Kam wondered if she should just blurt out her real reason for being here. He seemed to be the kind of person who could handle any adversity. Something cautioned her not to rush. Still, the words ached to leap out of her throat and pass her lips. She longed to scream out, I’m your daughter! Maturity won out and Kam sat, mute.

“My mother is the boss,” Rudd told her. “She’s sharp, but the mild stroke has addled her memory somewhat. She’s got arthritis and sometimes needs help getting around. Iris loves to drive, but her license got yanked by a local judge about a year ago, thank God. If he hadn’t done that, she was bound to have an accident that killed her or some other person. You’d be expected to drive her wherever she wanted to go.”

“That wouldn’t be a problem.”

Rudd assessed Kamaria. “You a city slicker?”

“Uhh…no. I’m a country girl. Why?”

“Humph.”

Just what did that mean? Kam almost asked but decided against it.

“You got a young man in your life?”

“Not presently. My life as a photographer was pretty much on the go. I didn’t have time for something like that.”

“Humph.”

She blinked once. He scowled and put on a pair of bifocal glasses to study her rеsumе again.

“You like gardening?”

“I love it. My parents have a huge garden, certainly not the size of the one I saw at the side of your home, but my mother and I raised a lot of veggies over the summer.”

“How about flowers? You like them, too?”

Kam grinned. “Who doesn’t like flowers?”

“That’s what I always thought, but you’d be surprised,” Rudd muttered. He made some notes out in the margin of her rеsumе. “I’m curious about why a photographer would suddenly want to become a caregiver.”

Kam licked her lips and said carefully, “I’ve been on the move since I graduated from college, Mr. Mason. I’m twenty-eight now. I’ve been kicked around this globe and seen a lot. I guess I want to have a life. I don’t want to lie awake half the night scared out of my wits, wondering if some rebel is skulking about to behead me. Or, that I’ll contract malaria or yellow fever and die alone out in the bush.” Kam shrugged. What she said was the truth, but not all of it. “I figure I’ll continue to do some photography and make a little money on the side as a caregiver. It won’t interfere with my job here.”

“Your nesting phase, as my mother would say.”

“Pardon me?”

“Nesting. You know—settling down. You’ve been a tumbleweed rolling all around the world and you’re tired. You want to settle down and sink some roots like the rest of us.”

“That’s another way to put it,” Kam agreed. She liked his cowboy insight and use of colorful Western slang.

“Iris is unique,” he began, leaning back in the creaking chair, his hands resting on his hips. “My family came from a line of trappers who first discovered this area in the mid 1800s. My great-great-grandfather, Rudyard Mason, married a Blackfoot gal by the name of Buffalo Woman. This ranch became his home. He claimed it and worked it and eventually owned the land outright long before Yellowstone or the Grand Tetons were made into national parks.”

He tugged at his mustache. “It seems that each Mason man married an Indian woman, so we have a lot of that in our blood to this day. My mother’s father was a full-blood Crow. Her mother was white. Iris lives close to the earth and practices Native American ways. That’s her garden out there.” He pointed in that general direction. “She also has flowers that she grows in and around the ranch. Her company is Tetons Flower Essences, and she sells what she makes around the world. My mother spends from dawn to dusk with her plants and loves every second of it. I’m happy she’s happy. With her brain addled by the stroke, she’ll be needing someone to help her with the packing, shipping and making out bills to customers. Your job as her caregiver would be a lot more than that. I need a person who is very flexible, who loves nature, who can deal with a cranky woman who gets her back up every once in a while, but who can appreciate her passion for life.”

Kam swallowed hard over the fact that this fascinating woman could be her grandmother. What a rich gift that would be. Fighting back tears, Kam blinked several times and whispered, “I’d love doing anything to help her, Mr. Mason. I love the earth, too. Gardening is a healing meditation to me.”

“Humph. Iris says the same thing. Says that when she gets out weeding in that garden of hers, any bad feelings she carried out with her just go back into the ground. She always feels better afterward.”

Never had Kam wanted a job more than this one. Something about Rudd Mason struck a chord so deep. “Mrs. Mason sounds like a dream come true to me.”

“Plenty of people around here consider her an ongoing nightmare.”

Kam noted Rudd scowling, his gaze off in the distance. Who wouldn’t love a senior like Iris? “Maybe a person who didn’t work in a garden might not understand,” Kam said forcefully, “but my experience is that gardeners are some of the most peaceful, calm and centered people I’ve ever known.”

Rudd chuckled. “I hear you, Ms. Trayhern. There’s folks I’d like to throw into a garden and not let them out until they got it, but that ain’t gonna happen.”

Kam watched him as he looked up at the ribbed pole ceiling of the office, as if considering something. She had to be bold. “I’d really like this job, Mr. Mason. I believe I could get along very well with Mrs. Mason.”

“Call her Iris,” he said finally, glancing over at her. “She hates standing on protocol. And she loves her first name, Iris. Her parents named her an Indian name that means Iris Blooms in the Morning. It fits her. My mother is the backbone of this ranch, and she made it into what it is today alongside my father. She’s worked hard all her life. She’s got arthritic knuckles to show for it, too.”

As she heard the pride and love in his voice, Kam hoped he would speak to her in such a tone someday. It all hinged on this job. Gripping the leather purse, she waited for his decision.