Kathleen Eagle - One Less Lonely Cowboy

Okay, subsistence.

How about survival?

She had fought it, cursed it, and finally she’d made her peace with reality. But she wasn’t ready to force the whole reality enchilada on a thirteen-year-old. There had to be some scrap of fantasy left for Iris. Lily couldn’t provide internet, but surely she could come up with something wonderful and wireless.

She pulled the car around back of the house, and there was her something.

“Horses, Iris.” The old barn’s new metal roof glinted in the sun. Two sorrels stood in the small pasture outside the corral, where a man was working a beautiful black-and-white paint on a lunge line. “You’ve always wanted to ride,” Lily said. “Now’s your chance.”

“Oh.” Iris released the buckle on her seat belt as she leaned closer to the windshield. “Hey. That’s not Grandpa.” Closer still. Lily wondered whether it was time for an eye exam. “Mom, who’s the cowboy?”

“No idea.”

“Really? Good.”

Iris got out of the car, shut the door a little harder than necessary and met her mother on the other side. Lily was pretty sure she’d made the entire move without taking her eyes off the corral, not even for the motley-colored dog that darted out from behind the barn growling and then, at a glance from the cowboy, quickly retreated to the fence and sat. Lily glanced back at the cowboy, whose connection with the dog was clearly below the radar.

“Okay, this place is suddenly looking a lot better.” The comment was sotto voce, not that the cowboy seemed to be paying them any mind. “His pants are kinda tight and geeky, but maybe that’s not such a bad thing.”

“They fit .” Lily gave her daughter a who-are-you? look. “Not that it matters.”

Iris squinted, gave a tight smile. “I saw him first.”

“Iris, really.”

“You keep telling me to look on the bright side. I finally found one.” She turned back to the corral. The man was concentrating on his horse. “We should go introduce ourselves.”

“We should go present ourselves to your grandfather. He knows we’re coming, but …” Lily put her arm around her daughter’s shoulders and urged herself by urging Iris toward the back door of the house. “I wasn’t sure exactly when.”

After several knocks the door still stood closed.

“Is it locked?” Iris wanted to know.

“We’ll wait for him to let us in.” Lily could feel the doubt, the disbelief, the adolescent impatience growing on her left flank. Or was it really her own uncertain center, the feel of her tail stuck between her legs? Her head was telling her to get on with it—the first few moments would be the hardest—but the strings to her limbs were tied somehow to the knot in her stomach. She glanced at Iris, who questioned her with a puckered brow.

“You can try it if you want.” With a gesture toward the doorknob, Lily took a step back.

Seriously? the voice in her head scolded.

“He’s your father.” Iris’s frown deepened. “He’s expecting us, isn’t he?”

“Yes, but … I should have called him before we left. Or when we stopped in Fargo, maybe.” Lily gave her head a quick shake. She was making a complete fool of herself. “I don’t know what I was thinking. Trying to time it just right, I guess. After chores, before bed. You don’t want to …” … get him on the phone when he’s been drinking . She turned away from the door and looked elsewhere. “Let’s ask the cowboy.”

“Oh, let’s.”

Iris’s delight was understandable. From a distance the man was promising. He knew what he was doing, and he looked good doing it. Smooth, sure, confident. The horse didn’t question it, and neither did the dog. Lily wanted some of that right now. The confidence, not the man. But the closer they got, the better he looked. His long, lean body, his deft hands, his handsome face all kept faith with the promise he’d shown at a distance. Lily was sure he’d noticed them, but the easy-loping paint had his full attention.

A man who minded his business. Always impressive.

Iris was the first to call out to him. A bold “Hi!” No shrinking violet, her daughter, but Lily sensed a little deflation when the cowboy spared no more than a glance and a nod. She laid her hand on Iris’s shoulder and pressed on. The ball was in Mom’s court now.

“We’re looking for Mike Reardon,” Lily called out as she stepped up on the bottom corral rail and folded her forearms over the top one.

A low-pitched, authoritative “Ho” changed the horse’s pace. The lunge line went slack, and the cowboy finally turned about half his attention to the women. “You came to the right place at the wrong time. He went into town.”

“I’m Lily, Mike’s daughter. He went to Lowdown?”

“I’m Iris, the granddaughter.” She’d scrambled up two corral rails, putting her head and shoulders above her mother.

“Jack McKenzie.” He touched a gloved finger to the brim of his black hat. “The hired hand.”

“Really. Grandpa has a hired hand.” Iris glanced down, grinning at her mother.

What a difference a cowboy made, Lily thought.

“That sounds so cool. Like a real ranch,” Iris added.

“Like Roy Rogers?” Lily teased.

“The Double R Bar. I know my TV trivia.” Iris wasn’t going to let the man go too easily. “What are you hired to do, exactly? Are you like a real cowboy?”

“Iris …”

The cowboy cracked a smile, which changed the whole attitude of his chiseled face, put a spark in his dark eyes and gave his full lips potentially delicious animation. He let the rope slide loosely through his grip as he turned his back to the horse and approached the fence. The line went slack as the horse followed, seemingly of its own volition. “As real as they come these days. I’m all about chasing cows.” He pulled off his right glove and offered Lily a handshake. “Mike talks about you a lot. Does he know you’re coming?”

“I just talked to him a couple of days ago. Yes, he said we should …” She watched him offer Iris the same greeting, and it occurred to her for the first time that the man was American Indian, at least in part. It was the handshake—a brief, warm, easy touch offered to everyone present, adult and child alike.

She glanced up, suddenly anxious. “Is he okay?”

“He’s doing good, yeah. He doesn’t—”

“I know. He says he goes to meetings and all that. Just making sure we aren’t walking into …” Lily clamped down on her tongue. Too much information. The drinking was something she would deal with like an adult. She’d been to a few meetings herself. Adult children of people who shouldn’t have been parents. The group had another name, but that was what it came down to. She gave half a shrug and offered a tight smile. “Making sure nothing’s changed since, you know, he invited us here.”

The cowboy answered her shrug in kind. “I just work here.”

“Of course. I’m sorry. I should have—”

“That’s a great-looking horse,” Iris put in cheerfully. “Is he Grandpa’s?”

Jack grinned. “She’s mine. Mike lets me keep my horses here. The filly’s just getting settled in. Got her out of that wild-horse adoption program down in South Dakota.”

“She’s wild? She doesn’t look wild.”

He laughed. “You can’t tell by looking. Kinda like people.”

“So you can’t ride her?”

“Not yet.”

“What’s her name?”

He turned his smile to his horse, tipped his head as though he expected the answer to come from her. “Yeah, we haven’t quite decided.”

“I’m named for a flower,” Iris said. “So’s Mom.”

“Was that his idea?” Jack nodded toward the house. Iris and Lily turned their heads, following the direction of his gesture and becoming aware of the soundless arrival of the man they’d been looking for. “Hell of a romantic, that guy. Nice flower garden you’ve got here, Mike.”

Parking rules must have changed, Lily thought. Don’t want no vehicle left in the front of the house. The less of our business people can see, the better .

Her father’s appearance registered hard on the heels of that thought. Maybe he walked more quietly than she remembered because he’d lost some weight. But he’d gained a ready smile, and Iris went straight to him.

“A bright spot for sure.” His voice had gone the way of his walk—quieter, a little raspy. But any vigor the years had taken away, the blue eyes that greeted Lily’s made up for with a vibrancy she hadn’t seen before. “Real nice surprise, too,” he said as he accepted Iris’s eager hug in the way of a man who was trying something out that he’d spent much of his life avoiding.

“Surprise?” Lily wasn’t going to compound the awkwardness with more hugging.

“You didn’t say for sure. I mean …” He gave Iris’s back a parting pat. “I’m glad you’re here. Look at this one, will you? You were just …” His leathery hand measured four feet up from the ground. “Maybe less. Growing like a weed.”

“A flower,” Jack said, turning to Iris. “What kind did you say?”

“Iris.”

“Iris and Lily.” He touched a finger to the brim of his hat. “Pleasure.”

“Pleasure?” Iris whispered.

“To meet us,” Lily explained, as they watched the cowboy amble across the corral, the paint homing in on his shoulder and following along like a well-trained dog. She glanced at Iris. She knew cowboys. Had known . One cowboy, anyway. It could be mesmerizing, just watching them walk with fluid, natural ease. “They don’t like to waste words.”

“ They? Who’s they , Mom. Don’t tell me you’re being—”

“Men.” Lily chuckled. “ Some men. Westerners. Right, Dad?”

“We don’t like to waste anything. We’re conservative. Or conservationists.” He gave Lily an oddly hopeful look. “Which is it, English teacher?”

“I’d say you’re both.” She wasn’t sure what he was hoping for. The opening for a touchy-feely moment between them had come and gone. “I guess I should’ve called again, but I thought you knew we were on our way after you gave us a green light.”

“I was gonna fix up the bedrooms. Yours hasn’t changed since you left.” Mike laid his stiff hand on his granddaughter’s shoulder. “You want your mama’s old room, girl? It’s small, but it’s—”

“ Iris , Dad. I’m ‘girl.’ She’s Iris.” Lily tried to exchange a glance with her daughter, but Iris wasn’t doing her part. The cowboy and his horse were more interesting.

Yeah, okay, so maybe they were. But even so, Lily wasn’t letting anyone call Iris girl .

“Haven’t had a girl on the place since you left, and now there’s two. Gonna take some getting used to.”

“We’ll make it easy on you, Dad. I haven’t forgotten how to drive a tractor.”

“ You can drive a tractor?” Doubting Iris was back.

“She can, but she won’t have to,” her father said. “Drivin’ tractor’s about all I do lately. Jack takes care of the heavy lifting. If you can still bake that strawberry rhubarb pie you used to make, that’s all I ask.” He winked at his granddaughter. “What’s your specialty, g—Iris?”

Iris laughed. “Guy-ris? How’s that, Mom?” She raked her finger through her strawberry-blond bob. “I’m letting my hair grow out. Does Jack live here?”

“I wish he did.” Mike glanced at the weathered red barn, where the cowboy and his filly had taken refuge. The dog was gone, too. “Jack’s a day worker, and he’s in high demand. I can’t afford him full-time.”