A Family For Rose. Nadia Nichols
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John Deere Dealership mug close to his chest. “There’s no livestock on the place. We’re planning on picking up some young stuff together at the fall auction, but the fences have to be repaired before we can do that.”
We? Shannon thought. “Daddy told me there were horses.”
“The only two horses he kept were Sparky and Old Joe. He gives them the run of the place, and they never roam too far from the barn.”
Shannon took a quick swallow of coffee, which burned her mouth. The pain helped her gain control of her emotions. Sparky and Old Joe had to be twenty-five years old if they were a day. She’d practically grown up astride Sparky, and Old Joe had been her mother’s favorite horse. She set down her mug, deeply shaken yet again. As gruff as her father acted, he still had a heart. For the animals, at least.
“I won’t beat around the bush, Billy. This place is falling down. It’s a shambles. My father may be broke but I’m not. Not completely, anyhow. I can pay whatever it takes to hire you on full-time. That is, if you think you can do the work, and I understand if you can’t, with your injuries. It’s a big job, a lot harder than stocking shelves at the store, but you’ll pay your mortgage off all the sooner.”
Billy’s eyes locked with hers and the heat in his gaze hit her like a forceful blow. He pushed out of his chair so abruptly that he lost his balance and had to grab for the edge of the table. He straightened, carried his plate and cup to the sink, then limped to the door, took his hat from the wall peg, pushed through the screen door with a squeak and a bang, and was gone.
“Is he mad, Momma?” Rose said in the silence that filled the room.
“I think so, honey.” Shannon sighed. “Finish your supper, Rose, and we’ll go find Sparky and Old Joe down in one of the barns.”
* * *
BILLY WAS ON his way to the cook’s cabin when he spotted McTavish down by the machinery shed, working on the tractor. Billy pulled his truck up beside the old red Moline tractor and cut the ignition. He and McTavish had been working on the tractor for a week now, every evening after supper. Robbing parts from three other tractors in various stages of decay to build one that could take on the job of haying. Robbing Peter to pay Paul, McTavish called it. The first mowing was already three weeks late. The grass was tall and going to seed. The neighboring ranchers already had their first cutting stored away in their barns.
McTavish wiped his hands on a greasy shop rag. “Thought I might try to fire her up tonight, see how she goes.”
Billy adjusted his hat, glanced toward the ranch house then back at the tractor. “Those plug wires look bad. I should’ve picked up another set today.”
“She’s got new plugs, new oil filter, new oil, fresh gas, good hydraulic lines. Tires are old but they’ll do. She might go, cracked plug wires and all.”
“If so, we could start haying first thing tomorrow,” Billy said.
McTavish nodded. “Be good to make an early start. We’re a little late this year.” McTavish hauled himself up onto the metal seat, pulled the primer knob and kicked her over. The Moline sounded as tired as the both of them put together. The tractor’s engine turned over but wouldn’t fire. McTavish’s shoulders slumped. “If just one damn thing would go right around here,” he muttered.
“I’ll go to town first thing and pick up a new set of plug wires at Schuyler’s,” Billy offered. “He opens early. We could still be haying by seven. Get the top field done, anyhow, maybe half of the lower.”
McTavish nodded again. “Save the slip. I’ll deduct it from your monthly payment.”
A killdeer flew across the front of the tractor and landed near the corral. Billy watched it hunt for insects in the weeds along the fence line. He plucked a stem of tall grass and nibbled on it. “Been thinkin’. Maybe I could cut my hours at Willard’s so’s I can work more hours here, when it’s busy times, like haying. And the fencing needs to be done before we buy the stock.”
“I can’t pay you, Billy. We talked about that before.”
“I don’t need much to get by.”
McTavish looked at him. “You’re building a house. That takes cash.”
“I got what I need to close it in for the winter,” Billy said softly. “There’s lots that needs doing around here if we’re bound to get this ranch back on its feet. Part-time won’t cut it. I’ll stock shelves at the store if I need spending money. Working full-time for you, I’ll pay off my mortgage all the quicker.”
He paused. Hearing the words aloud, he realized they made sense, and the humiliation and anger Shannon’s words had triggered started to bleed away. She hadn’t been attacking him personally, merely telling him she could afford to hire full-time help, and if he couldn’t do it, she’d hire someone who could. It was his job to prove to her he was up to the task, in spite of his injuries. “Must feel good, having your daughter back.”
“She shouldn’t have left.” McTavish climbed down from the tractor, his movements stiff. “But she’s come to her senses. She finally divorced Travis Roy.”
Billy tossed the grass stem away to hide his surprise. “She plan on staying?”
McTavish shook his head. “Doubt it. Willard showed me a picture of her house in one of those entertainment magazines. Looks like the White House, pillars and all, ten times as big as all the buildings on this ranch put together. After living that fancy life for ten years she’ll never be able to live here again.”
“I can’t think of any better place to raise that daughter of hers.”
McTavish gave him a jaded look. “I dunno about that. Shannon couldn’t wait to get out of here.”
“She came back, didn’t she?” Billy plucked another blade of grass. “With all her money she could have gone anywhere, but she came home. That says a lot. She still cares about you and she cares about this place, that’s as plain as a summer day is long. Speaking of which, it’s getting late. I’ll see you in the morning, bright and early. We got some hay to cut.”
* * *
SHANNON TOOK ROSE to the horse barn after cleaning up the kitchen. They walked down in the golden light of early evening. She tried to focus on the beauty of the setting, the rugged mountains and the fertile McTavish Valley, but all she could see were the broken fences, the missing shingles, the sagging roofline of the barn. A land empty of horses and cattle and young dogs. A land devoid of hope.
She pulled open one half of the big barn door and stepped into the dimness, holding Rose’s hand in hers. “This barn used to be full of horses and sweet-smelling hay, barn cats and cow dogs. I always loved coming in here.”
“Where are the horses, Momma?”
She gazed down the row of stalls. “Looks like nobody’s home at the moment.” She raised her eyes to the empty hay mow. Dropped them to the wide aisle, littered with dried manure and straw, not neatly swept and raked, the way she’d kept it. She sighed. “Sparky and Old Joe must be outside somewhere, maybe down by the creek.”
“Can we go find them?”
“Sure. It’s a nice evening for a walk.”
They were walking past the tractor shed when Shannon saw her father sitting on an upended bucket, working on the guts of an old red tractor. She changed direction and headed toward him, leading Rose along.
“We missed you at supper. I set aside a plate,” she said when he finally paused to acknowledge their approach. Shannon let her eyes flicker over the old machine and shook her head. “Can’t believe this old relic still runs.”
“It don’t. That’s why we haven’t hayed yet.”
Rose spotted Tess lying beside the old shed. “Can I pet her?”
Shannon nodded. “Just be gentle and remember