Chapter 6
The crystal, polished-glass air filled Ty’s lungs as he bent over the engine of a good-sized yellow-and-green John Deere tractor, complete with hefty plow in front.
The problem was, quite simply, a detached alternator coil wire, which would have been hard for anyone not familiar with the tractor’s engine to see.
Jasper would have found the problem inside of a moment, but he’d evidently been busy making beautiful fire pits, the benefit and beauty of which outweighed the needs of a tractor’s engine. Except, for now, on a crystal clear Christmas morning when there was a new pony to ride.
Ty attached everything that was loose and had the tractor up and running inside of fifteen minutes. With Bill’s efficient instructions and guidance, had a good stretch of snowy road plowed just about down to the dirt in half an hour.
The almost soft snow would freeze back up by noontime, but meanwhile, as Bea stood in the doorway of the barn hopping up and down as she watched the road become safe for her to ride, Ty knew he’d done the right thing.
Behind Bea stood Austin and Clay. They both looked like they were trying to appear stern and dubious but were failing miserably and, within a heartbeat, Clay disappeared inside the barn.
Ty drove the tractor back up to the metal storage shed where he’d found it, parked it, turned the engine off, and listened to the silence fall around his ears.
This wasn’t his family or his home or even his Christmas morning, but he knew he’d done the right thing and, if Santa truly existed, then that fine old gentleman would have approved of what Ty had done and then some.
“Get on out of there,” said Bill, coming up to the shed, his breath in the blue air swirling around his head in a wreath. “You might as well watch this.”
Following Bill back to the barn, Ty realized that, in spite of the new red scarf, how cold he was, as he’d left his knitted cap in the cabin, and he’d quite forgotten his gloves in the shed.
He rubbed his hands together, and stopped when Bill stopped, then came around to Bill’s side to watch the magic unfold.
Clay was leading Cinders out of the barn, and the dappled pony was picking her way daintily among the clumps of snow left behind by the tractor’s snow plow blade.
On her bare back was Bea and she was not sitting up straight, no. Instead she was leaning forward, far enough so she half-lay on the pony’s neck, her hands and face buried in the pony’s silver-gray mane, hugging the horse with all of her little might.
Sunlight sparked from the blue sky along the shards of plowed snow, along the silver in the pony’s coat, making a beautiful, fairy-danced morning. Even more beautiful than that was the shine in Bea’s green eyes, the joy beaming from her face, her sweet smile.
“Give me the reins, Daddy Clay,” said Bea, her voice carrying in the bright, clear air. “Please, please, please?”
Clay stopped amidst the sparkle of snow coming down gently from the roof of the barn in a sudden, invisible gust of wind. Then he looked back at the open doorway to the barn, where Austin stood, clutching an old barn sweater close around him.
In that stillness, Ty was close enough to see Austin’s emotions as they flitted across his face.
This was his little girl, and the second Clay handed the reins over to Bea was the second she began to move into her own future where she would be a grown up young lady, independent of her two dads.
She would be her own person, then, and not his little girl though she would, as with the way of little girls, always be in her father’s heart.
Dashes of hot tears swept down Ty’s face, though he didn’t understand why and besides it hurt like hell to be feeling what he was feeling: the movement of time, like an arrow, which would take them all from this crystal-laced precious, precious moment of perfection.
Ty swiped at his face and, as Clay carefully looped the reins over Cinders’ neck and handed them to Bea, Ty heard Bill swallow hard and looked over to see him palming his mustache as though to hide the gentle quiver of his mouth.
“Go on, then,” said Clay, his voice thick. “But not too far, okay? Not this first time.”
In spite of the fact that Bea probably wanted to go dashing through the snow as fast as she could, she urged Cinders forward gently.
In response, Cinders walked onto the snow-covered road, careful and steady, her ears pricked forward, her silver mane floating over her gray-spotted neck as though fairies danced along the strands.
“Easy now, honeybee,” said Austin.
He moved into the road now, too, as if oblivious to the cold. He didn’t have his cell phone, it seemed, to record the momentous occasion but perhaps he felt the moment too sweet to need recording, too deep within his heart to need anything but what it was, right there, right in front of them.
Bea walked Cinders down the road perhaps a few yards, or it could have been a few miles for all she seemed so small amidst the bare-branched, snow-dappled trees.
Her back was straight, puffs of warm air from her lungs dancing around her head, lacing her strawberry blond hair with licks of frost, it was just that cold.
“C’mon back now, Bea,” Bill called out, breaking through the silence, the stillness.
Bea turned Cinders around and leaned forward to urge her into a trot. She was only a little girl, but it was easy to see, even to Ty, how much she was in sync with her pony.
Cinders lifted her head and, with a small snort, moved into a low canter, much to Bea’s obvious delight, as she laughed out loud. Which startled Cinders into a little buck of her hindquarters, which sent Bea off her back and into a heap of snow left behind by the plow.
Ty’s heart was in his throat as he moved forward, only seconds behind Bill, but by the time all four men reached the snowbank, Bea was already on top of it, reaching for Cinders, gently taking the reins and patting her neck with long strokes.
“I shouldn’t have laughed like that,” she said to Clay as he brushed snow from her hair. “She’s still new and shouldn’t be scared.”
“You both scared me,” said Clay, a shake in his voice, and then Austin was there, scooping up his daughter in his arms, holding her tight while Cinders sniffed his shoulder, looking for treats.
Bea led Cinders to the barn, and Ty watched as her two dads helped her brush the pony down, doing it as carefully as if she’d just finished running a steeplechase, rather than having participated in the briefest of walks down a snow-plowed road.
“Let me warm that coffee up for you,” said Bill, coming up to Ty’s side. “You did a good thing there.”
He handed Ty a cup of hot coffee, plain this time, black, with plenty of sugar.
“You always that good with engines?” Bill asked.
“Mostly,” said Ty. “I like working on them. And I like driving trucks.”
The coffee felt good as it reached his belly and the barn, while still chilly in the mid-morning air, felt a great deal warmer than the outside.
He shrugged, his eyes lighting on the sight of Austin and Clay kissing, of Bea’s head shake of young exasperation, as surely petting a new, sweet-faced pony on Christmas morning was more important than a silly tumble into the snow.
“Though soon I won’t have trucks to mess with.” Ty clamped his mouth shut tight, but it was too late, the words were out.
“What’s that?” asked Bill. He tipped his head back to drink the last drops of his coffee. Then, out of the corner of his eyes, Ty could see Bill’s raw-edged and experienced hands as they laced around the white china mug.
“It’s the trucking company.” Ty shrugged, waving his now-empty mug in the air as if to dismiss all of his concerns about the empty, jobless future that stretched out before him. “They don’t want to keep any of the old staff on so I’m history. Me and a lot of other good folks.”
“Well,” said Bill. He palmed his mustache again, and seemed to be studying Cinders as Bea led the pony into her box stall and carefully filled the net bag hanging from the wall of the stall with some very appetizing looking dried hay. “You could come to us, if you’ve a mind to.”
For a moment, Ty couldn't figure out what Bill was saying. Come to us, he’d said, as if inviting Ty inside of a warm circle of acceptance and comfort. But he couldn't be saying that, surely.
“You mean a job?” asked Ty, his heart pounding. “Don’t you have to ask the boss first?”
“The boss?” asked Bill.
“Yeah,” said Ty. “Don’t you have to ask Leland, the boss?” He tried to clear his throat without it sounding loud and nervous but failed. “I mean, I’m not saying no, but I figure it’s his sayso.”
“Son,” said Bill, quite gruff and serious now, though when Ty turned to look at him, there was a twinkle in Bill’s gray-blue eyes.
“I own this ranch, and sure, Leland runs it, but he runs it for me.” Bill pointed to his chest with his thumb.
“What I say goes, and I think you’d be a good fit.
We’d pay you in room and board and if you’re not as sure around horses and cattle as you are around trucks, we can teach you what you need to know.
Why, Clay here is one of our best instructors. ”
Bill pointed to where Clay was holding a slice of carrot for Cinders, except the pony was more interested in the bits of frost melting in his blond hair, and was nibbling at it.
Clay laughed, and Bea slipped beneath the pony’s neck to wrap her arms around Clay’s middle and hug him tight. Then Austin came up and kissed behind Clay’s ear and between the three of them was a Christmas morning cloud of love and affection and joy.
Ty’s throat thickened and maybe it was the sense of the importance of the day or the love and affection and joy that seemed to be filling the barn, making a big enough circle to include him inside of it.
He honestly had no idea what he was feeling exactly, but he knew he wanted more of it. More of what the little family in front of him had. More of that, and maybe someone to kiss him like Clay and Austin were kissing each other. More of the love.
“D’you mean it?” asked Ty.
“Sure,” said Bill. “Like I said, this is usually Leland’s area, but I think he’d be good with taking you on. So what do you say? We sure could use someone who knows their way around an engine.”
Bill turned to Ty and Ty did his best to focus on the moment, to clear his brain.
His eyes felt hot, and his heart was racing. This was such a chance, such a good chance, he could hardly believe it was being given to him simply because he could attach a few wires in sub-zero weather.
“Yes,” said Ty, half-breathless. “I need to get the rig back to Eaton Trucking and then terminate my contract, which is already terminated at the end of the year anyway.”
“Then it’s perfect,” said Bill. “Hey, sweet Bea,” he said now to Bea, who rushed up to them both and hugged them hard. “Ty’s coming to work for us, and what do you think about that?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah!” Bea hopped up and down then dashed back to her two dads, and playfully pushed them to the side so she could be the one to carefully close and latch the door to Cinder’s box stall.
“Come back New Year’s day,” said Bill as casually as if he’d been handing Ty another cup of hot coffee rather than saving Ty’s life and giving him a future worth going towards, all in one stroke. “We’ll put you up in the staff quarters and we’ll make sure to have clean sheets on the bed for you.”
Yes, Ty meant to say. He meant to say it aloud, but his throat held the words back as he watched Bea race up to him. She threw herself against him and hugged him hard, then grabbed his hand with a sturdy pull.
“You missed breakfast, and Dad always says you should eat it.” She smiled up at him, her eyes full of Christmas joy, now that she’d been able to ride her new pony. “We’re having grilled cheese and ‘mater soup for lunch.”
“What’s that?” Ty asked, not sure he’d heard right. “What’s ‘mater soup?”
“Tomato soup,” said Austin, coming up to them with Clay in tow. “It’s good to warm your insides on such a cold day.”
“Yes,” said Ty, aloud this time. He looked at Bill and nodded at him. “Yes.”
Bill shook his hand and patted Ty’s shoulder, leaving a warm spot behind. Maybe there’d be a job application to fill out or some kind of background check, but Bill seemed a handshake-seals-the-deal kind of guy and Ty was going to do everything he could to live up to that trust.
As they shut the barn door, and trooped single file along the plowed edge of the dirt road, Ty knew he was lucky.
He had a warm red scarf to wear, and a little girl hanging onto his hand like she never meant to let go as they walked to the dining hall, and a sense of warmth and goodness in his heart.
He’d driven through a blizzard on an impossible task, and arrived to land in a world of Christmas morning, to a prospect of a future life, and to the promise of clean sheets on New Year’s day.
All of which meant he’d not miss out on his own life, and the possibility of finding someone of his own to call home.
The End