An Unlikely Rancher

“I’ll learn, Mel.”

Rob finally slid the salad bowl over. He gestured with the tongs. “Mel’s right. I hate to say it, Jenna, but you aren’t thinking straight.”

“Mom thinks it’s a good idea. It’s why she stayed on after the funeral, so I could visit a local ostrich ranch. Get a sense of what I’ve got ahead of me.” Jenna poured the salad dressing.

“How reliable is Mom or Dad? They moved lock, stock and barrel to Costa Rica weeks after Dad retired,” Melody argued.

“That’s exactly right. That’s why they’re reliable in this—they’re proof that you can make a dramatic new start at any age. They researched and chose a place where their money will last. And they’re the ones who recommended this place in New Mexico.”

She stopped to study them, acknowledging their concern. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—listen to her own self-doubt. “Look, I can’t thank you guys enough for helping move us off the Florida base and for letting us stay here temporarily. But even here—”

Jenna had to break off, catch her breath, before she said slowly, “Everywhere I turn I see men and women in uniform. We’ve been here ten months.” She lowered her voice, looking hesitantly at Andee. “I think the commission is bent on proving pilot error. They’re discounting Andrew’s countless missions in war zones.” Jenna idly split her roll, barely murmuring, “You know about the reports saying he and the Navy pilot argued. Should that destroy his career?”

“War can mess with a man’s head,” Rob said.

Melody nodded. “Yes, we all saw a marked change in Andrew after his last tour in Afghanistan. You said he refused to go for a physical. Whether or not the commission finds him at fault, you need family now, Jenna.”

She tensed. No one knew how strained her marriage had been at the end.

“Andee, honey, I forgot your milk. Will you go to the kitchen and bring the carton from the fridge?”

Jenna waited until after she’d gone to put a finger to her lips.

Oblivious, Rob continued, “Some chest thumping goes with being a fighter pilot. And rumors always circulate after a non-combat accident. They fade away, so it’s no reason to uproot Andee. Let the commission finish its work.”

Jenna added a dollop of dressing to Andee’s salad. “He was three short years from retirement, Rob. We discussed leaving the East Coast. I’ve always wanted land where I could have animals and plant a garden. Mel, you know how much I loved the Army base in Germany when we were kids and Mom raised chickens.”

Rob ate his salad as Andee scampered back with the milk. “Ostriches aren’t chickens,” he said. “They’re big, powerful birds. They kick and bite.”

After pouring Andee’s milk, Jenna set the carton aside. “Ostriches only act out if they’re frightened, according to the American Ostrich Association website. They’re curious creatures who like shiny objects. The people I bought from advised against wearing jewelry when I work with them. Plus, the couple who owned the farm I toured in Georgia has raised birds for ten years and they’re doing really well.”

“Even so, New Mexico is still the Wild West,” Rob said.

“Please be happy for us,” Jenna begged, suddenly blinking away tears.

Pretending to fuss with Andee’s hair, she gently cupped the girl’s ears and said quietly, “Mel...if we stay here, there are bound to be negative comments about Andrew.” Jenna dropped a kiss on the child’s forehead and smiled because Andee had clearly taken an interest in their conversation.

Melody and her husband exchanged guilty glances.

“Of course.” Melody hastily passed Jenna the meat platter. “But you call us the minute you get there. And if... Well...our door is always open if you want to return.”

* * *

FLYNN SUTTON WATCHED his newest customer jockey a four-passenger Cessna Skylark into the hangar he’d just rented out. It was Flynn’s third rental since he’d finished clearing the runways of the old airpark he’d bought while serving in the Air Force.

That had been before he’d been shot up and landed in the military hospital with a new knee and shrapnel wounds in his hip and thigh.

The cloudless blue sky and shimmering heat of his native New Mexico helped to cleanse the stench of war and dull the painful loss of his best friend.

Chip Talbot had flown the search-and-rescue mission that bitterly cold afternoon when their chopper had been shot down in Kandahar province. Only dumb luck had let Flynn crawl out of the wreckage alive.

He counted himself lucky again that he’d invested in this airpark over the twelve years he’d served Uncle Sam. It gave him the fallback he’d needed when his career with the Air Force was over.

In the beginning it had been his intention to stay in for twenty, retire with a good pension, come here and teach flying in his golden years. He’d had to cut those plans short—or move them up, depending on one’s view of his current situation.

Disability pay covered the cost of his renting the house in town. He’d have money enough to keep his dream alive, providing he filled his hangars and lowered his blood pressure so he could pass his next physical.

Imperative if he hoped to teach flying.

But maybe he was asking for too much. Unlike Chip, he had his life and a future.

Shading his eyes, Flynn tossed a wave to the pilot of a red-and-white, single-engine Piper Cub taxiing to the caliche runway from another stall.

Travis Hines, the twenty-year-old son of a local land developer, was a bit of a grandstander. Or maybe the kid just made him feel old at thirty-three.

Still watching the plane, Flynn idly wiped his greasy hands on a rag. He grimaced as the Piper lifted off in a wobble of wings and a full-throated growl.

Dropping his mirrored sunglasses over his eyes, Flynn dismissed the show-off and limped into his makeshift office. He tucked his client’s check into the bank deposit bag for when he and his dog went home at lunch.

* * *

JENNA TIMED THEIR arrival in Deming, New Mexico, to coincide with the moving van hauling their worldly possessions. Over her sister’s continued grumbling, Jenna had traded her compact car for a Jeep Grand Cherokee. The purchase had seriously depleted what was left of her savings, but as she pulled up outside the realty office, she felt a renewal of hope.

Hope had been missing from her life for longer than she had admitted to anyone.

The office looked like so many other buildings she’d seen in the virtual tour. It was flat-roofed, beige stucco and blended with the sandy landscape.

Taking Andee’s hand, Jenna stepped inside.

The only person in the room was an older man seated at a messy desk. Without hesitation, she introduced herself to him.

“I see, Mrs. Wood. Welcome. I’m Bud Rhodes. Oscar left you an envelope along with the house keys. He said he included notes about his ostrich operation.” Bud pawed through a pile on his desk, found the envelope and handed it to her across the counter.

She stared at it for a moment. “I assumed Mr. Martin would walk me through everything,” she said slowly.

“Sorry. I thought you knew he’d moved to Hawaii.” The Realtor laughed at the oversight. “Oscar employed a local man by the name of Don Winkleman to help with the birds. I reckon he’s been handling things since Oscar skedaddled.”

“I see. I hope his notes are detailed...” She opened the envelope but couldn’t focus on all the paperwork she was seeing. “This business is all new to me. Everything here is new to me.”

“Well, now, we’ve got a right, nice little town. What you see here is our commercial district. You and the little lady,” he said, smiling down at Andee, “need to visit our museum. It dates back to the 1916 raid by Pancho Villa. We’ve even got artifacts from one of the original Harvey Houses that catered to transcontinental railway travelers. It’s open now, if you’d like to take a tour.”

“I’m afraid I can’t.” Jenna glanced at her watch. “I’m to meet our moving van at the house right about now.”

She was exhausted from the long drive and the heat. And admittedly unsettled by the news that Oscar Martin was gone and hadn’t told her he’d be leaving and she’d be plunged into ranching straightaway. Thank heaven, he’d left her with someone to help.

“No problem. I’ll mark where you’re going on this map. Your property isn’t too far off the main highway. It’s about four miles out of town.”

“And there’s a rental home?” she suddenly thought to ask. If Oscar Martin hadn’t told her he was leaving, what else hadn’t he told her? “Here in town, correct? And it’s occupied?”