This Cowboy's Son

That morning after Jenny and Matt spent the night together, Hank had lost a good ranch hand in Matt. A year later, he’d also lost Jenny.

Most days, though, she was happy to be home, on her family’s ranch, even if she didn’t own it. Yet.

That would change the day she married Angus. Then half of it would be hers, and someday in the future, Jesse and any brothers and sisters Jenny and Angus made for him, would own the whole thing.

“I’m taking Jesse home now. See you later.”

Hank waved back.

“Hank’s got a baby horse,” Jesse chattered. “He let me pet him. Hannah gave us nimistrome for lunch.”

“Minestrone?”

“Uh-huh. It was good ’cept for the beans. Mikey said they make him fart.”

Jenny chuffed out a laugh.

Jesse fiddled with the gold chain she wore. “I made a friend. Stacey.”

Jenny’s throat constricted. He was getting so big, no longer looked a toddler, but more a little boy. Too fast. She was in a weird mood today. Off balance because of Matt.

Some days it felt as if she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. Keeping secrets could do that to a person, but she was about to unburden herself of the biggest one. She hoped she would feel better after that.

As she held her son in her arms, smelling the hot, active-kid scent of him that she loved, she thought, What am I going to do about you and your father? You were never supposed to meet him.

She silently cursed Angus for contacting Matt, Matt for agreeing to come back, and her parents for losing her ranch in the first place. She knew she wasn’t being rational, so she forced herself to relax, then kissed the top of her son’s head. There were some things well worth being thankful for.

She shouldn’t be angry with her parents. They’d done their best. Dad had tried everything to save their ranch, had even started a quarry that had scarred part of the land.

She shifted Jesse a little higher on her hip and walked to the car. She should put him down. He was four years old, after all, but she wanted him close for a few minutes, though.

Matt was back.

What a cowpie-kicking mess. But this was one mess she was taking care of for good.

UNSETTLED AND TIRED, Matt threw his belongings onto a bed at the near end of the bunkhouse. Coming back to Ordinary was harder than he had reckoned it would be.

Driving in from Wyoming, he’d thought the trip was long. Then, all of a sudden, he’d arrived and had to face too much.

He hadn’t wanted to see Jenny. He’d planned to steer well clear of the Sheltering Arms, but she was here on the Circle K. Worse still, she was foreman and she was marrying Angus. What a snafu.

He’d just seen her drive off the ranch in a small silver car. At least he’d have a few minutes of peace until she returned.

Matt wanted to forget that night, and that he’d ever told Jenny he loved her.

He didn’t want to be reminded of how much he’d missed her in the past five years and the friendship they’d had before that night. Nor did he want to admit how much he’d missed this place and how it was all tangled up with his relationship with Jenny.

She’d been his anchor for years, since he was a kid. She’d watched over him. Then they’d had sex, he’d split, and he’d missed her and Ordinary more than he’d thought possible.

Matt wished he could turn around and beat a track out of here, to get away from his love-hate relationship with this community, but he couldn’t leave.

He owed Angus too much money. No way could he let him down.

Why not? Angus let you down. He’s marrying Jenny.

So what? You were never going to marry her. Jenny and Angus are free to marry each other.

Yeah, but still…

Still what?

I don’t know.

He didn’t want to have to deal with Jenny, had spent five years purging her from his mind.

A decrepit sofa sat at the far end of the bunkhouse, decorated with brown wagon wheels and rearing horses on graying beige.

Matt sank into its soft cushions that had accommodated too many rear ends over its life, of the men who’d made Angus’s ranch their home for weeks, months or years at a time.

He turned on the small TV, flipped through the channels, then turned it off and tossed the remote onto the scratched coffee table.

An ancient olive-green fridge and stove and a deep freezer made up what might be loosely called a kitchen area.

Matt jumped up and left the bunkhouse. After a while, these places all started to look the same, a blur of lumpy beds and cobbled-together secondhand furniture.

He walked across the yard in search of Angus, remembering when he used to come here as an adolescent, hiding on the low hill above the yard, in the stand of a dozen or so cotoneasters across the top. This ranch had come to be a magical place for him, a spot where parents knew how to make happy families.

Lilacs lined one side of the two-story house. Their scent wafted across the veranda. He stepped through the screen door and entered a foyer that was a few degrees cooler than the sunlit yard.

Maybe in some ways it was good to be back. He closed his eyes and inhaled.

It smelled clean, like lemon and potpourri.

Matt had spent time inside this house as a teenager. He’d loved it. Back then, it had smelled like cigars and fried food.

Far as he could tell, nothing much else had changed. The screen door let in a breeze that ruffled dried flowers in an arrangement on a table by the door.

He didn’t remember Angus having a fondness for flowers. Jenny’s influence, maybe? Naw, not likely. Jenny Sterling’s name was listed under “tomboy” in the dictionary.

He walked down the hall, passing the living room on his right and the dining room on the left, both filled with oversize dark furniture.

He continued down the hall and spotted Angus sitting behind his desk in the office.

“Hey, Angus.” Matt stepped into the room, a smile spreading across his face. This man had saved him, had just flat out saved him all those years ago.

Angus glanced up from the books he was working on and grinned when he saw Matt. He came around the desk and they met in a man-hug, right hands meeting in a bone-crunching handshake and left hands slapping each other’s backs.

Matt was so damn glad to see Angus. The past five years had been filled with close acquaintances and a lot of strangers. But friends? No. It was good to touch a friend.