At one end sat a combination grocery store–post office, at the other, a very busy feed store. Myra remembered a time Main Street wasn’t paved, when she’d spent summers here as a young girl tagging after Gram and Gramps. Little else had changed about the weathered wood stores, except for a new generation of proprietors.
She parked near the coffee shop owned by the mother of one of her good friends, Lila Jenkins. Only a year older than Myra, Lila was already a widow with a nine-year-old son. Following her husband’s death, Lila had begun working part-time for her mom. She also owned a bed-and-breakfast that catered to fishermen, but she was struggling to keep it afloat.
Still discombobulated by her dad’s call, Myra hoped a strong cup of coffee would help snap her out of the pain gripping her.
As she entered the cheery, warm café, it surprised her to see a couple of her other friends seated at a back table. Jewell Hyatt, born and raised in Snowy Owl Crossing, now served as the area’s main veterinarian. Shelley Price was a few years older than the other women in the Artsy Ladies group. Her husband was a park ranger and she taught ceramics out of her home. Shelley made beautiful items for the November bazaar they all participated in to raise money for the snowy owls.
Lila emerged from the kitchen, saw Myra and smiled. But Myra’s heart sank. Saying goodbye, telling her friends she wouldn’t be able to finish her projects for the bazaar this year would be harder than she’d imagined.
Spotting her, Jewell stood and beckoned her to their table. “Gosh, Myra. Sit down. What’s wrong? You look... I don’t know, sad-eyed. Not exactly sick, but not well.”
Myra pulled out a chair just as Lila reached them. “Can I get you something? I made chocolate pie today. I know it’s your favorite.”
“Just coffee. But hurry back,” she said, sinking down on the chair across from Jewell. “I’ve got news. Bad news.” She shed her jacket as Lila dashed behind the counter to pour coffee for herself and Myra. As soon as her friend returned, Myra blurted out everything she’d learned from her dad’s call.
For an elongated moment her three friends looked stunned. Then Lila leaned over and hugged her. “Is there nothing you can do to change your father’s mind?”
Myra blinked away a sudden rush of tears. Not trusting herself to speak, she shook her head.
Jewell reached across the table and squeezed her friend’s arm. “Let’s think a minute. You say your dad jointly owned the ranch with your grandfather. So as awful as it seems, I guess he has a right to give the property away. Too bad you can’t just run this new guy off.”
Lila glanced at the others. “Dare she even try running off a former Green Beret? They’re tough. Plus, he saved her brother. That makes the guy a hero, right?”
Myra paused before drinking from her steaming mug. “How would I even run him off?”
Jewell clasped her own cup. “Maybe you won’t have to run him off. Didn’t you say he’s from Boston? Managing a cattle ranch isn’t like doing a bunch of sit-ups. Even if he led a squad or a platoon or whatever they call it, I don’t think that compares to keeping a herd of cattle alive during a Montana winter. What’s to say he’ll stick it out?”
Shelley, who’d been quietly sipping her tea, smiled. “That’s brilliant, Jewell. Myra, why not volunteer to stay on and help this dude like you did your grandpa? Only, you let him do all the dirty, messy chores. Get my drift?”
Myra brightened then frowned. “The folks want me to stay with them while I apply for teaching jobs. They’d probably veto any notion of me sharing a house with a stranger. Even if he did save Eric’s life.”
Lila leaned forward to stare at Myra. “You’re an adult woman. I work part-time for my mother, but she has no say over my private life.”
The others all nodded and Myra blew out a noisy breath. “You make good points. But my parents paid for my education. I never talk to Mom that she doesn’t work in how I’m wasting my time tucked away here. She likes living nearer Billings where she has access to big stores and such. City amenities we don’t have.”
“But that’s not you,” Jewell stressed. “It’s your life. And you know we’ll all be disappointed if you leave.”
“Not as disappointed as me,” Myra admitted, thinking it over. “I usually hire help with haying and branding and such. High school kids from neighboring towns or the reservation. The Flying Owl doesn’t have a bunkhouse, so Gramps never kept full-time hired hands. I suppose if I didn’t take anyone on this winter, this Lieutenant Maxwell would have to do all the worst chores himself.”
“That’s right,” Jewell said with a smile.
“But I don’t know much about him. Eric spent a year under his command. They kept in touch after they both left the service. I can phone my brother and ask if it’s safe for me to live under the same roof at least long enough to see he doesn’t ruin Gramps’s ranch.” She perked up the more she talked.
“Now you’re sounding like the Myra we all love,” Jewell said, grinning. She lifted her coffee mug and all the women did the same, touching their rims in solidarity.
Myra set money on the table for her coffee. “I need to get to Hadley’s store before it closes to stock up on a few things. Zeke Maxwell is due in sometime tomorrow morning. I’ll see how our meeting goes. Then I’ll phone one of you.”
“Zeke? Is that short for something?”
Myra shook her head as she shrugged into her jacket. “Dunno. Eric’s mentioned he has a twin brother, who travels the world hunting gems. And I think their parents retired to the Caribbean. I know he bunged up a shoulder and elbow saving Eric and other men while under enemy fire. And for that my dad gave him the Flying Owl.” She made a face.
Shelley patted Myra’s hand. “Tonight I’ll burn a candle with the hope he sees right away that he doesn’t fit in. The hard work and isolation in Snowy Owl Crossing might well be too much for him.”
“Thanks, everyone. I’d best get moving. I probably still should gather the family albums and put them in a box. And drag out my suitcases. I can’t make this visit goodbye. However things shake out, I’ll come see you all again.” She left then before the tears that sprang to her eyes could fall.
* * *
THICK CLOUDS THAT had blanketed the mountaintops for most of the previous day had blown in overnight. By 10:00 a.m. stinging snow had dusted and showed little sign of letting up.
If it continued for long, Myra knew she’d need to haul hay out to the herd. But she wanted to wait for the new owner to put in an appearance. Boy, that title almost gagged her. She had phoned Eric last night. When she’d asked if his former lieutenant suffered from any post-traumatic stress problems, he’d laughed and said Zeke was a solidly good guy through and through. Her brother asked why she wanted to know, but she hadn’t told him. Really, she hadn’t made up her mind. She’d yet to search online for teaching jobs. She felt qualified to hire on as a ranch hand, too. But with the flat economy, not a lot of ranches were advertising. At least none in the immediate area. She had checked on that.
While she could delay ferrying hay out to the main herd, she didn’t want to put off bringing the young steers down from the summer lease in the foothills. Too bad the grass that yesterday had been so green and lush was now white with snow. If need be, she could clear
