Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
HARRY
M a doesn’t seem to have noticed our half-day absence. If she did, she doesn’t say a word. She sits at the dining table, mending some item of clothing. Never stops.
Louisa left not long after we made it back, midafternoon. It’s empty without her here now. I understand this is not what she planned. But my heart can’t stop reaching for her, regardless.
“I need a drivin’ lesson,” Ma says out of the blue.
“What for?” I ask.
The second the words leave my mouth, I regret them. Her focus on the work in her hands intensifies. The old man never permitted her to drive, claiming she would never be home if she had a means of getting herself places. Old bastard never relented, not in all the years they were married. Not even when she would have been better off drivin’ him when he was drinkin’.
I won’t be him.
“When?” I ask.
Her gaze pops up from the needle and thread in her hand. “You don’t look too busy now.”
I chuckle.
“Sure, I have a little time before I need to get back to fixin’ every run-down bit of this place.”
“Good.” She drops the darning to the table and makes her way to the front door, pushing on her floppy hat and sliding on her weathered boots. Shaking my head, I follow, planting my own hat on my head and tugging on my boots. By the time I get to the old buckboard truck, she’s in the driver’s seat, hands on the wheel.
Like a kid with a new toy.
I drop into the passenger’s seat and shut my door. “What’s got you wantin’ to be drivin’?”
“Well, we’re much further from town now. I can’t be askin’ you to take me in like we used to. Plus...” She glances to me briefly before rendering her focus back to the dusty windshield.
“Plus?”
“You won’t be wantin’ me around all the time. You two need to?—”
“You two? What are you talkin’ about?”
“Louisa and you need space for a proper start.” She nods her head, as if cementing the idea.
“Ma, Louisa and I, we’re...” I don’t know what we are. I know what I want. I still haven’t gotten up the nerve to ask her what she truly wants. I had ample time to do so today. Did I do it? Nope.
I shake my head, as if that will dislodge the thought along with my cowardice. I’ve never possessed the ability to think straight around Louisa Masters.
“We can talk while I drive,” she suggests, nodding to the gravel road before us.
I grunt a response and point to the ignition. “Turn it over. Make sure it’s in neutral first.”
She nods, her hand gripping the gear stick. I place my hand over hers, wobbling the stick side to side to show her it’s in neutral. She turns over the ignition, and the old girl rumbles to life.
A smile lights up her face like she won the best prize on the planet. It’s the little things with Ma. That’s what makes her so endearing. I smile at her as she grins at me. With a chuckle, I point out the speedometer and the brake, the pedals, and so forth. She nods with every new piece of information.
“Right, press the clutch in, and shift her into first.” I wave at the pedal, then the stick. She pushes the clutch all the way in. Her leg shakes with the pressure. It’s not an easy truck to drive. Old and stuck in its ways, some days it takes a little manhandling. Her hand pushes the stick to first gear.
“Good, now put a little pressure on the accelerator while you ease off the clutch, slow like.”
“Uh huh.” She purses her lips, attention swinging from the windshield to her feet as she shifts the pedals. The engine roars a little, and we move forward with a jerk.
“Steady, let her roll.”
Her foot pops off the clutch and we jolt forward, but to her credit, she doesn’t freeze up, just accelerates. Like she’s been payin’ attention every time I drive her somewhere. I wonder how long my mother’s wanted to learn how to drive. How long she was denied this small privilege.
We travel along the ranch’s gravel driveway slowly. We make the entrance, and I pull the wheel ’round, helping her steer onto Hillview Road.
“This is good. I think I’m getting the hang of this.” She pushes the pickup faster. It whines, needin’ to shift up gears.
“Clutch in, shift into second.”
The clutch depresses, the roar dissipates, and the old girl slows while Ma finds second. Her foot pops the pedal, and we surge forward. She picks up the pace, the widest grin on her face.
“Now, lesson for lesson.” Her voice is serious, like we’re in grade school.
I roll my eyes and stare out the window.
“You’re never too old to listen to your mother, my boy.”
I can’t help the smile growing on my face. But I owe my mother more than I could ever repay, so I drag my eyes from the mountains and fix them to her.
“Fine, shoot.”
“About you and Louisa.”
“Ma,” I utter in protest. I don’t need to talk about Lou right now. If I do, I’m likely to end up with a raging hard-on while sittin’ in a confined space with my mother.
“No, I want you to know this. I won’t be around forever.”
I lean into the old seat and turn my body toward hers. Talk of her not being here does something to me that I hate. We have been through so much. I can’t imagine her not having the chance at finally being happy.
“Don’t say that.”
She chuckles.
“We all die eventually, Harry. If I go before my child, I’ll consider myself blessed.”
Her words grate against my heart. I hate this conversation already.
“Anyway. I want you to know...” She hesitates as if weighing the words. “A good woman is the makin’s of a man. There are some things you can’t do in this life alone. Those things, essentially, mean the most. Like a happy life. A full life of love and companionship. But it’s more than that. It’s like, how do I say it...”
She glances at me, making sure she holds my attention. “Your life, your dreams, are like a big ship. An ocean liner, or an exploration ship. One of those ones from the days of the first explorers. She’s your captain. You, her first mate. You’re mighty strong by yourself. With her , you’d be unstoppable. There is nothing a good pairing can’t overcome.”
The last few words are too quiet. I can’t help but think she’s learned all this by making mistakes. By living the opposite of what she is speaking about. Her analogy sits heavy in my gut, like the anchor she forgot to mention. Now, I realize that’s because the unsettled feeling I’ve had since the day Lou walked away from me outside the high school gymnasium is exactly what she means. I’ve been drifting.
Lost at sea.
Sure, I sunk myself into work and building up the family business to buy a ranch. I’ve never had much focus after that milestone. As if the goal was compensating for what I lost ten years ago. A consolation prize.
And now I have the ranch, I realize how big and lonely this life will be if I have to do this alone. The truck lurches over a pothole in the road. Ma gasps, hands white-knuckling the wheel.
“Next left, turn in and send her right ’round. We’ll head home.”
She smiles and lifts one hand to her forehead in a sloppy salute. I chuckle. Never before have a mother and son been so close. I swear, the only silver lining—and there is always one of those, I believe that—to come from the horrendous life we led in the old man’s house was that it brought us together in such a profound way. Nothing will ever match the devotion Ma carries for me.
And I for her.
The second the thought rings through my mind, I’m a liar.
Because there is one woman I can’t live without.
And she ain’t in this truck.
* * *
Wednesday is here, and Lou is back. I meet her in the driveway, her with an armful of groceries for Ma to turn into some mouthwatering morsel and the prettiest smile I’ve ever laid eyes on. I, however, can’t stick around. I have the sale in Great Falls at noon. If this ranch stands any chance of making it through the next twelve months, we are going to need breeders.
A couple semi loads of them, at least.
I wave Ma goodbye through the front window as I shove on my hat.
“You’re not stayin’?” Louisa asks, disappointment claiming her face.
“Need to be at the store sale over in Great Falls. I’ll see you later.”
“Oh, sure.” She offers me a small smile.
Drivin’ the hour and a half to Great Falls, I mull over Ma’s words from the driving lesson last week. For the first time in my life, I let myself dream big. Like bigger than growing a profitable ranch. Maybe other investments. Other income avenues. Others have done it. If I can make the first ten years good ones, then I’ll have equity.
Today I spend the last of the capital from the allotment sales. A little I had leftover as a nest egg, just in case.
I ponder a fifty-fifty split. Half stock, half investment down payment.
The thought sparks something that fires off by itself. The hope and excitement it brings fills my heart. It lights me up.
Damn.
Lewistown is no big fare, to be sure. Most small businesses turn over a profit in town. At least the owners claim they do. The drive flies past, and I find Ned leanin’ on the gate to the sale yards, waitin’ on me. I park and walk to where he is rolling a smoke.
“You oughta give that up, bud,” I say in lieu of hello.
He blows a cloud of smoke to the side, with a grin. “Was hopin’ you’d make it, Harry.”
“Can’t have you buying up all the quality stock.”
He turns and heads through the gate and I follow. I haven’t been here before, having only used Lewistown’s smaller market for the allotments.
“Nah, I only transport ’em, buddy. I like the work, don’t like the stress of ownin’ a ranch.”
“That so.”
“Hell, you’ve got your work cut out for you on the old ranch. Holler if you ever need a hand, hey?”
“I’ll keep you in mind. Maybe roundup time.”
He shoots a smile my way as we file into the sale house. Its round, fenced off pound is circled by stands, like a small grandstand outfitted for buyers. Just beside the gate the cattle come through, a platform juts up. Two men stand discussing whatever is on the clipboard hovering between them.
Chatter echoes around the space. Ranchers fill the space, shakin’ hands and chuckles happening all around us.
“Busy place, Ned.”
He nods, finding a seat and dropping into it before rolling another smoke. “Yeah, I guess. This is nothing to the all-breeds sales in spring. Can’t get a parking spot for miles.”
I sit down in awe, imagining this place overflowing with stud ranchers. That’d be somethin’ to see. The auctioneers call the start of business, and I watch in fascination as the room quiets so quick you could hear a pin drop. Hooves over damp earth move next.
A herd of twenty or so young red heifers trot into the pound. The hammer falls, and the auctioneer bursts into a yodel I barely understand. It’s nothing like the auction of the ranch. I study the crowd, seeing how it moves, the faces they make as they take in the herd. Ned nudges my shoulders.
“Nobody ever wants the first lot. If you want a cheap lot, this it’d be it.”
“What are they up to?”
“Still too low for a profit.”
“So, that would be to my advantage?”
“Yep.”
I raise the bid card in my hand. The auctioneer snaps his focus to it. Pointing to it instantly. A few more bidders raise their cards. The price moves up a little.
The second auctioneer scans the audience.
“Do we have fifty? Can we get a fifty?”
I raise the card. Fifty cents a pound. Times the weight of each heifer, say around five hundred pounds. Only a quarter of my budget. I wait until the crowd doesn’t offer anything else before raising again.
“Fifty, buyer five eight three nine. Sold!”
The hammer falls again. Two men on horses ride into the pound, ushering the small herd back through the gate they came.
“See, too easy.” Ned leans back in his chair.
“I still need another eighty head. A handful of bulls.”
“Shoulda got better seats. You’re gonna be here a while, Harry.”
“You be around later to haul them back to the ranch?”
“Yeah, bud. I’ll be haulin’ all day between your lots and whoever else’s buys I can wrangle to load.”
Ned rises from his seat. The next lot walks into the pound. Cows and calves. A heavier set breed.
The auctioneer starts up, his yodel now fully warmed up.
Here we go.