Rodeo Rancher. Mary Sullivan
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Michael called the children to the table.
“This is a huge table,” she said, running her hand along the oak grain.
“It’s a farm kitchen. Used to be the ranch hands ate in here with us.”
“Ranch hands? Where are they?”
“Slow time of year. Any who wanted to were allowed to go home for a month of holidays. The rest opted to ride out the storm in town. Violet at the Summertime Diner will find a way to cook meals even without power. They’ll be a lot tastier than mine.” His laugh sounded rusty.
Lily and Mick took their usual spots at the table. Michael directed Jason and Colt to the other seats on either side of the table and offered Samantha the one at the other end.
“You have your choice of food.” He outlined the menu for the kids.
“Can I have a little bit of everything?” Jason asked. “I want meat loaf, but I really like Mom’s soups.”
“In this house, you can have whatever you want and as much of it as you can shovel into your faces.”
The younger children giggled. Jason took him seriously.
It turned out Samantha’s children ate a lot.
She seemed embarrassed by it. Maybe because of his less-than-gracious welcome when they arrived? He didn’t like that their appetites bothered her, but at least she didn’t stop them from eating.
After dinner, they got out his air mattresses and inflated them. Jason manned the electric pump while Michael carted in wood and lined the walls beside the fireplace.
He sent Samantha to the linen closet for sheets and plenty of blankets. She made up the two double air mattresses into beds and added extra blankets to Michael’s quilt on the sofa just in case.
Michael built up a fire so there would be warm ashes in the grate if the power went out overnight.
Jason followed him to the basement to retrieve his camping equipment. He was a good kid, helpful and uncomplaining. Samantha had done all right with him.
They carried up his old pots and pans. Battered, they’d seen a lot of campfires and had stood in during power outages many times over the years.
He took out his battery-operated emergency lamps.
Fascinated by all of it, Jason asked question after question about how things were done around the house during a snowstorm.
“What about your animals? You have cows and horses, right?”
“The horses and some of my cattle are safe in my barn and stable. The rest are in pens around the property. I went out first thing this morning and gave them plenty of food and water to get them through the night.”
Arms loaded, they mounted the stairs to the main floor. Michael closed and locked the door behind him to keep the younger children out. “In the morning, if weather permits, I’ll go out and take care of them.”
Excitement lit Jason’s face. “Can I come?” he blurted, and then looked contrite. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have invited myself. It’s just that I like animals.”
“You can come,” Michael said quietly. The kid’s interest should be honored.
“Thanks.” The boy’s smile lit up his intelligent face. Michael guessed there was a lot going on under Jason’s polite exterior, more than met the eye. He needed a chance to grow and develop in his own ways.
Shortly after eight, Samantha sat on the sofa and rummaged in her big bag for something.
Lily, in Michael’s arms, wriggled to be put down and went over to her. Apparently, the ice had really and truly been broken with that hair trick, because Lily leaned against Samantha’s thigh to look inside. “Want to see what I’m carrying, do you?”
Samantha dumped the contents onto a sofa cushion. “There you go. I have everything in here but the kitchen sink.”
At that moment, the phone rang.
Michael answered. “Hello?”
“Michael. You’re there.” It was Karen Enright and she sounded anxious.
Michael bit back a sigh. Karen had been Lillian’s best friend. After Lillian’s death, Karen had become proprietorial where Michael was concerned. Her boundless earnest concern for him and his children smothered him. He’d never given her one iota of encouragement.
“I’ve been worried.” Her breathless voice irritated him.
The only woman he’d ever loved was dead. He wasn’t about to start loving someone else. Karen should understand that.
He’d loved Lillian from the first moment he’d met her in high school. It had deepened when they’d begun dating at sixteen.
Lightning had struck him once. It wasn’t likely to strike him a second time.
“How are you and the children?” she asked. “Would you like me to come over and help take care of them?”
Her deep earnestness chafed him.
“In this weather? For God’s sake, Karen, stay put.” Honestly, he just wanted her to stop. “Like I said earlier, the kids and I will be fine.”
“But what if the power goes out?”
“We’ll do what we’ve always done. We’ll get by. Do not come over. It would be a fool’s errand.”
Suddenly, the phone went dead and the lights went out.
They’d lost their power, just as he’d thought they would.
The living room had been plunged into darkness, save for the fire he’d been feeding before the phone rang.
Damned cordless phone. He should have stuck with his old landline.
Lily patted his leg. “Daddy? Okay?”
“Yep. We’re good.”
“We’ve got systems,” Mick said. “See, Lily? Right, Dad?” In the light of the fire, he pointed to the logs and the camping equipment.
“We’ll be fine,” Michael said. “In the morning, I’ll start up the generator. We won’t need it for the night. Might as well head to bed.” Reluctant to give in to the intimacy of sleeping in the same room with strangers, he thought the bedrooms might stay warm enough until morning. He led the way down the hall with one of the lamps and tucked in his daughter and kissed his son.
Samantha did the same with her two boys and then they were alone in the hallway.
Her fingers twisted nervously.
He stuck his hands into his pockets and raised his shoulders, not sure what to do with her. It was only nine o’clock and too early for bed.
“You want a coffee or something?” he asked. “We can boil the water over the fire.”
“Too much caffeine. Do you have herbal tea?”
“Think so.”
They wandered to the kitchen. The urge to keep his distance from her was stronger now that the house was hushed and felt even more intimate.
She started to chatter again. He did his best to block it out. He couldn’t.
“You don’t have to do that,” he said.
She stilled. “Do what?”
“Fill the silence.”
For a moment she went deeply silent. He wondered whether he’d been too blunt. Again.
She didn’t laugh this time. “It’s a habit of mine.”
“I noticed.” He smiled to soften things in case he really had hurt her feelings.
He