Chapter 5Staten Kirkland
Chapter 5
Late November Wish
Friday
Staten Kirkland
S taten carried the dinner plates from his grandparents’ bedroom toward the kitchen. Since the stroke, a new routine had formed with the three Kirklands in the little cottage. Staten tried to make it back to headquarters by dark. Granny didn’t serve dinner until Staten was washed up and sitting on the left side of J.R.’s bed.
Lately he’d begun to call his grandfather by his initials like the ranch hands did. When Staten called him J.R., the old boss seemed to feel stronger, as if he were still running the spread. His gramps sometimes asked questions about what was happening in the pastures, or the numbers on stock prices and the chance of rain.
When Granny brought in dessert, she always smiled to hear ranch talk. It was almost as if things were back to how they’d been.
After her James got quiet, she’d collect the empty drinks and Staten would follow with the plates. The meals were almost normal except they sat around J.R.’s bed and the old cowboy came to dinner in his PJs, which he hated. Granny passed him pills now and then and always tried to get him to eat more. After dinner and the dishes were done, Staten and his grandfather would watch the news or football and Granny would knit.
Soon the old man would fall asleep. Staten would turn off the TV. Granny would kiss both her men, and Staten would step out of the room as she settled her husband for sleep. Most nights neither said a word. Granny and Gramps would just smile at each other as if both were silently saying, “Glad you’re here with me.”
As Staten did almost every night, he walked to the back porch of the cottage house that had always been his home. He saw nothing but the darkened land and a star-bright night sky. His first weeks back, he’d silently cried as if the world was too heavy on his shoulders. He knew he couldn’t handle the load. Maybe at thirty, maybe at twenty-five, but not at nineteen. This was not where he should be. He wanted to go back to Texas Tech and to Amalah and the new life he’d barely gotten started.
People talked of their college days or Army years or their carefree summers when they explored and learned who they were, but somehow, in the blink of an eye, life was pushed forward by ten or twenty years. He worried about the weather and getting back before dark. Going into town for supplies and mail were now the highlights of his day.
Silent tears fell those first days as he stood every night in the midnight cold. But as weeks slowly passed, his feelings had numbed as he looked out on the open prairie.
Most nights he didn’t think of anything; he was too tired. Or sometimes he made mental notes on what had to be done tomorrow.
Other times it seemed he could hear his grandfather whisper in his ear, “If a hand doesn’t do something right, don’t fire him; teach him.” Or, “Don’t order a man to do anything that you wouldn’t do yourself.”
Tonight, he stared up at the sky wishing life would slow down.
Suddenly the overgrown sage by the porch brushed his jeans, and he saw a shadow moving at the corner of the house. In a breath he stopped drifting in his mind and stiffened like a hunting dog on point.
Staten reached for his Colt that had been near all day, but it was gone. When he’d stepped inside before dinner, he’d taken it off along with his chaps and hat. Granny’s rule.
The shadow moved closer.
In the two months he’d been home, he’d grown rock solid from constant work. The first one to saddle up and the last to quit. Even from the beginning, he pulled his share and more. He had to. It was the job of the one in the supervisor role, and on the Double K it was always a Kirkland. By the second week the men were calling him “Boss.”
Whatever came around the corner, Staten would stand his ground. He took in air and waited. Reason told him one of his men would not be sneaking around, and a stranger on the Double K was trespassing.
The shadow seemed to wither back.
Staten took the two steps off the porch in one bound. “Who’s there?”
He was about to charge when the shadow flew toward him crying his name. “Staten!”
He caught her a second before he realized it was his Amalah. His girl. His love.
His arms wrapped around her, and for a moment he just held on hard, too tight. Inhaling the scent of her while her dark wavy hair flew out around her like a cape as he swung her around.
Amalah laughed and squealed then started kicking and wiggling. “Put me down, Staten. I can’t breathe.”
He didn’t put her down. He didn’t want to let her go. He couldn’t. This was the only great dream he’d had in months. The only wish that had kept him going.
She started kissing him, her lips brushing over his neck, his cheeks, then finally meeting his. He let her feet touch the ground, and his hands plowed through her hair, then moved down her body that he knew so well. The memory of every day they’d been together floated around them.
They’d held hands in the third grade when no one was looking. He’d snuck a kiss in the fourth grade a few times. Mostly pecks on the cheek and then a kiss on the lips that ended in nervous laughter. By the time they were in the seventh grade they’d gotten to talk on the phone every night.
Granny’s only advice about love was, “Go slow and enjoy every step. Don’t fall in love; grow into it.”
By the eighth grade, Amalah cooked dinner with Granny on weekends now and then, and Amalah often traveled with Staten and Gramps to stock shows and rodeos. Sometimes they even went to a fair in Amarillo or Dallas. Often, she’d invite him over to her house to watch a movie. And in high school, as soon as he got his driver’s license, Saturday was date night.
Everyone knew they’d someday marry. They held a piece of each other already. They were meant to be together.
Staten had believed it, too, but now, for the first time ever, he wasn’t so sure. His grandfather’s stroke had changed more than just one life.
October and November had seemed like years without her, but it must have flown by for Amalah because she never had time to drive to Crossroads. He tried not to let it upset him. When Staten left, she’d had to readjust her life just as much as he had.
The first few weeks after he’d left, Amalah had cried for him and wished she was home. But by the time the cold wind moved in, they talked of why she was too busy to make it back. When Thanksgiving came, her mother took her to Dallas for a big family reunion. No chance to make it to Staten.
He tried to understand, but he was too hurt. They’d never missed a holiday together. They’d never been apart for so long.
After that, Amalah only called every other night and neither of them seemed to have much to say. To pass the time, Staten worked harder, and sometimes when he had an hour alone, he rode the fence line as if looking for trouble.
But he knew the trouble was within him. He was starting to not care about anything outside of his world, outside of the ranch. He didn’t have time to. The proof was that he had stopped counting the days before Christmas break and her return. And now guilt was setting in.
He wanted to talk about how he felt, but all he could do was hold her now. He could feel her heart beating against his. He felt whole again. Finally, she was in his arms. Maybe with her here, all his worries would just go away. Maybe they’d go back to how they used to be. Maybe everything would work out after all.
Wrapped in the blanket that always lay on the porch swing, they held each other. They traded sweet, slow kisses with hushed small talk. She told him all about her life at college. The football games and the dances and a hundred other things to do and learn. The plays, the protests, the parties that lasted all night.
He talked about what his life had become, listing what he’d been doing. Herding cattle, pulling a newborn calf by himself. Breaking up a brawl in the bunkhouse when two hands were drunk. Fighting a grass fire for three hours when it jumped the county road onto the Double K.
He told her the details. A fireman who’d played football with Staten last fall had stood beside him that night. As they fought flames, the new fireman never stopped yelling, teaching the rancher how to fight.
As fire melted to smoke, two men turned into boys for a moment as they yelled and cheered. No game this time, but they’d won.
As the night settled around them, Amalah leaned her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. He realized she wasn’t listening, but she was smiling. She didn’t care about the fire or the cattle. But he knew she was happy; maybe because they were finally back together.
To be honest he didn’t care about what was going on at campus a hundred miles away. She’d talked about people he didn’t know and told him everyone at Texas Tech was so much more interesting than the people in Crossroads. She’d said, “Here they act like wild kids but at Tech they talk or debate about important things like world hunger.”
Staten used one foot to swing them slowly as Amalah began to doze. Facts began to wash up on the shore of his mind. He couldn’t remember a time he didn’t love her. Snuggled against his side, she felt the same but something had shifted. She’d changed somehow and so had he.
He slowed the swing, running his fingers along her arm as if to prove she was really there. For the first time in his life, he wondered if they truly belonged together. Both were morphing into different people. Worrying about different things. Living different lives. Maybe she didn’t belong on the ranch, even though that’s where he did belong. Could she ever be happy here?
Staten could feel the doubt all the way to his heart even if his brain argued. If they stayed on the Double K, he couldn’t offer her all the things she’d learned to love about Tech.
He kissed her forehead. “I love you forever and forever. I’ve been dying to hold you since I left.”
She’d always been his gal. Somehow they’d get through this.
“Me too,” she whispered, snuggling closer to his side.
As he moved in for a long kiss, she lifted a finger and stopped him. “I’m not staying the weekend though. I have to leave early tomorrow morning to get back to campus. I have a study group for finals. I can’t miss it.”
Staten didn’t say a word. He just kissed her finger and let the swing move them slowly as she drifted to sleep. He couldn’t feel her heart beating against his anymore and its absence was deafening. Somehow it felt like she’d already left.
He didn’t let a tear fall. He was too old to cry over something like this. He didn’t have time to be upset. Amalah was leaving in the morning, and he’d be getting back to work. They both had lives to get back to.
The night grew colder but he didn’t wake her. Staten just pulled her closer to his side. He wished there was someone who would put out the fire burning inside him. He wished Amalah could. But she only seemed to make it rage hotter. In one semester he’d become dumb, not interesting, and talked about nothing.
Part of him wanted to go back with her to Lubbock. They’d planned for college together for years. Staten was the one who’d wanted them to go to Tech. He’d told her about how much fun it would be. Her dream was to be a teacher, and he figured he’d end up studying land management or something in agriculture.
But a bigger part of him longed for Amalah to come back home to him and stay. But if she did, she’d be giving up her dreams. She’d seen a bigger world and she might not want to settle here with him now. He couldn’t take her dream away. He wanted her to be happy as much as he wanted to be with her.
But he was still needed here. As much as he wanted to go back to Tech with his girl, he had to stay. And she had to go back to Lubbock. There was only one way right now, and it was breaking both their hearts.
As dawn rose, he was into “what-ifs.” Maybe his gramps would get better soon. Maybe he could go back with her in January to start the new semester. Maybe his father would come home and help out. Maybe Amalah would decide to drop out and stay here with him.
Staten could almost see sheets of paper falling on the porch, each with a huge NO written in blood.
He knew there was only one choice. The right one. Right for her and right for the ranch. What was right for him would have to wait.
He lay his rough hand over hers. “I love you,” came out with a frosty breath.
She pulled her hand away in her sleep and slipped it under the blanket.
Staten closed his eyes and thought only of the past as he realized they might not have a future.