Call Of The West. Myrna Temte
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car and drove down the long, winding lane. She turned right onto the graveled county road, intending to say goodbye to her good friend George Pierson at the Double Circle Ranch. Three miles later she rounded a familiar curve.
On impulse, she pulled over and parked the car. She got out, put her hands on her hips and slowly turned in a complete circle. Yes, this was the right spot.
No matter which way she faced, the scenery was breathtaking. Soaring, snow-capped mountains to the west, and to the north, south and east, the green of irrigated hay meadows, the long, tidy rows of fences and power lines beside the dusty road, the endless blue sky without even a wisp of a cloud in sight.
It was so quiet. So peaceful. So private.
There was room to breathe here. Really breathe. And there was a timelessness to this land that was evident in the rock outcroppings and gullies, in the subtle, shifting colors that stretched out to a horizon that went on forever. Nothing ever changed much in this country.
No wonder Jake and his family worked so hard to keep their piece of it.
What would it be like to belong here? To have a place of her own with some reasonable expectation of permanence? Where people stayed and businesses survived beyond the latest trends in entertainment, fashion and food.
She turned around again, shading her eyes with one hand as she looked her fill of this incredible landscape. Her chest ached with the beauty of it. With the longing somehow to be a part of it. With something close to grief at the prospect of leaving it.
But leave it, she must.
Heaving a deep, regretful sigh, she slid back into her car and drove the rest of the way to George’s place. His gangly, rambunctious pup galloped out to greet her when she parked at the back door. A semi-ugly mixture of several large breeds, the dog’s name was Doofus. Unfortunately, the name seemed to fit the animal quite well, but at least he was friendly.
Hope scratched his ears for a moment, then climbed the steps and waited for George to answer her knock. If his arthritis was acting up, it could take him a few minutes to get there. Somewhere around ninety and still blessed with an excellent memory, George had been telling her about the history of the area for the next book she wanted to write next.
He was cantankerous, blunt, meddlesome, nosy, opinionated and terribly prone to gossip. The juicier the better. Hope adored him.
George had outlived his friends, chased off most of his neighbors and infuriated his relatives to the point they barely tolerated him. But, to Sunshine Gap’s surprise, crusty old George Pierson appeared to adore Hope right back.
Opening the door, he looked out, his rheumy gray eyes alight with pleasure when he recognized her. He wore faded baggy jeans held up with orange suspenders, a yellow Western shirt and a ratty pair of brown leather slippers.
“Well, well, look who’s here,” he said. “Didn’t think you’d be out of bed much before noon after that shindig yesterday. Why’s your hair black?”
“Because I’m in a black mood, George.” Hope leaned inside and kissed his wrinkled cheek. “May I come in?”
“Well, I reckon I can spare a few minutes, but you’ll have to make your own coffee.”
Though he had few visitors, George always acted as if spending a few minutes of his valuable time with her was a huge favor. Hiding a smile, Hope followed his thumping cane through the gloomy old house to the kitchen. He also claimed arthritis prevented him from doing much beyond the bare necessities for his survival, but Hope suspected he was malingering in order to get attention. He could be amazingly spry when he chose.
She gladly played along with him, filling his ancient percolator with cold water, adding the coffee and setting it on the stove. Turning around one of the straight-backed wooden chairs at the table, she straddled it, facing George’s rocker.
Once they both were seated, he smiled, showing off chewing-tobacco-stained teeth. “What do you want to know this time?”
“Actually, I’ve come to say goodbye.”
“What?” Rocking forward so hard his rocker squeaked in protest, George frowned at her, his bushy white eyebrows jutting out from his face. “You said you were stayin’ until you finished your book.”
“That’s what I’d planned,” Hope agreed, touched by how upset he was about her news. Other than Blair, she’d had few people in her life who cared if she stayed or left. “But sometimes plans have to change.”
“Why? What the hell’s happened?”
Hope tried to smile at him, but found herself surprisingly near tears instead. Jake wasn’t the only one she’d grown fond of in Sunshine Gap. She would miss this old man, the other McBrides, her dear friend, Emma, who had married Jake’s brother Cal. Hope wasn’t ready to leave any of them. But after that scene with Jake…
“Aw, jeez, don’t start blubberin’,” George grumbled, shifting restlessly in his chair. “Never could stand a blubberin’ woman.”
“Oh, get over it,” Hope grumbled back at him. “I’ll blubber if I want to. You won’t melt.”
Slapping his knee, the old man let out a cackle of laughter. “You’re somethin’ else, gal. Go ahead and bawl your head off if it makes you feel better.”
She uttered a shaky laugh and wiped her eyes with her fingertips. “No, I’m okay now.”
He put the chair in motion, filling the room with soft creaking sounds. “Tell me what brought this on.”
Hope related an abbreviated version of what had happened at the wedding reception. With a few adroit questions, George dragged the rest of the story out of her. He kept rocking for several moments after she’d finished, his expression thoughtful. “You don’t have to go back to California.”
“Yes, I do. I can’t stay at the Flying M now.”
“You want Jake to think he can run you off that easy?”
“No, but there’s not even a decent motel in Sunshine Gap.”
“So find some other place to stay. Hell, stay here.”
“I couldn’t impose on you.”
“I invited ya, didn’t I?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“But nothin’. You wouldn’t be imposin’. This old house is so big, I rattle around in it all by myself. We could go for a week and not even see each other.”
“It’s not that big, George,” Hope said with a chuckle.
“Long as you don’t blubber all the time, I reckon we can get along well enough.” George’s expression turned shrewd. “Maybe we could even help each other out.”
The old man was up to something, but what? In spite of her better judgment, Hope asked, “How?”
“You love livin’ here. Around Sunshine Gap, I mean.”
She hesitated, then slowly nodded. “Something here calls to me. I don’t know quite what it is, but everything’s just so…real here. I don’t know if it’s the land or the people.”
“Could be the lack of people,” he suggested. “Must be mighty nice to drive down a road that ain’t all clogged up with traffic.”
“That’s true.” She smiled at him. “But it’s more than that. When I’m in Wyoming, I feel as if…as if I’m home. I can think here. And see life more clearly. I know I’ve done some of my best writing here.”
“Then why don’t you buy this place?”
Hope felt her mouth fall open and knew she was gaping at him. “The Double Circle?”
“It’s the only ranch I own. I won’t even try to rip you off ’cause you’re rich. All I want’s the fair market