he did have a sense of humor. Myra tossed him a smile over her shoulder.
It took about half an hour to reach the pasture where the Angus heifers milled about on either side of a coulee. A bull stood in the brush beyond the fence. Stopping, Myra took her cutters out of the toolbox welded onto the tractor. Crawling back across hay bales, she cut one open, stood and spread hay into the draw. Big, snorting, drooling cows immediately jockeyed for access to the new hay and began to eat.
Taking his cue, Zeke snipped open the next bale and manhandled it farther along the natural trough. “Listen, this will go quicker if you drive the tractor and I do the bales.”
Taking pity on him, because Myra saw it wasn’t easy for him to do the lion’s share while favoring one arm, she said, “We can take turns. I’ll drive the length of this coulee. There’s another like it a few hundred yards over nearer the stream. We’ll catch it on the return trip. Oh, wait. Can you drive a tractor?”
“I learned to drive anything with a gas pedal and a steering wheel in the army, and we had to improvise if either of those pieces got shot out.”
She hid a grimace but nodded. It’d been over a year since her grandfather had been able to help her with any of the heavy chores. Working in tandem with Zeke cut the time by more than half what she’d thought it would take to attend to the herd.
“How many cattle did we just feed?” he asked as she broke apart the last bale.
“A hundred fifty, plus or minus any that wandered off or were taken down by coyotes. There are close to a hundred moms with yearlings that we put in the grassy pen by the barn. Those youngsters will be sold before true winter sets in. You calve in the spring, sell in the fall.”
Zeke looked around at the snow falling in earnest. “This isn’t winter?”
She rolled her eyes. “Far from it. For a Montana winter you’re talking snow too deep to trek through. Once the calves are shipped, you’ll bring the main herd down to pastures around the barn. Even then it can snow so hard you’ll have to take grain out on a sled. Every day you’ll break the ice on the water troughs.”
He hunched over the steering wheel and followed their earlier tracks back to the barn. Parking, he let the motor idle. “What next?”
“I’ll store the tractor and see to the horses. Then I’ll go in and start supper. Why don’t you go on to the house and get settled. I cleared out Gramps’s bedroom and put fresh sheets on the bed and towels in the bathroom. It’s the room to the right of the living room. My bedroom is at the back of the house. I could pack up and head out tonight, but with this storm I’d rather wait until morning.”
Zeke studied her as he took his ball cap off. “I thought maybe you’d spend a few days showing me the ropes. But we can discuss that later. Tell you what, I’ll take KP duty tonight while you finish up out here. Then we can talk, and maybe you’ll go over the ranch accounts. Your dad said you kept the books and your mom jumped in to tell me you’re a high school math teacher.”
“I was. I won’t turn down your offer to cook. It’s my least favorite chore. The kitchen is old and small, but at least everything is functional and stocked.”
“Your father mentioned the house might need some work. He said not much has been changed since he was born and raised here.”
“I like it as is. The roof doesn’t leak and the fireplace works. So do the showers.”
“Uh-huh. It’s snowing harder. How much time do you need, so I know when to have supper on the table?”
“An hour should do it.”
He tipped his cap and made tracks for his pickup.
Myra climbed onto the tractor, ratcheted up the engine and backed the trailer into its spot in the shed. She watched Zeke take two duffel bags from under his pickup’s canopy and hike on to the house.
Sighing, she went in to take care of the horses, dialing her brother on the way to inform him that due to the snow she wasn’t leaving the ranch just yet. She contacted Eric instead of her parents because she still resented how they had given away a ranch they should have known she loved.
* * *
HIS EARS STUNG from the cold as he walked into a warm house he now owned. It all still felt surreal to Zeke. Particularly since he hadn’t realized the house would be occupied by Eric’s sister. He’d spent half a day with her, but as yet couldn’t pigeonhole her. Figuring her out became more difficult once he entered this home. At his first glance around the living room, on nearly every flat surface in the living room sat dollhouses. A grown woman had dollhouses? They were all so elaborate. On closer inspection he saw not all of them were complete. Several had walls but no roofs. A few were unpainted. Taking care not to knock into any of them with his duffels, he located the bedroom Myra had mentioned. He flipped on a light switch that lit two bedside lamps. The big bed, covered with a thick quilt, looked inviting. Thankfully, the decor was neutral. No frills. Having noted ruffled curtains on some of the dollhouse windows, he hadn’t known what to expect.
Since he’d promised to cook, he dropped the bags and found the kitchen. Vintage didn’t begin to describe the space. Outdated but spotless. He didn’t see a microwave, and the stove and fridge were surely older than his thirty-one years. He opened cupboards and took stock, then peered inside the fridge. A clicking sound, like dog toenails striking the linoleum, had Zeke straightening and looking around. The noise was coming from the corner where the back door was, behind a dinette set with four chairs. A pen fashioned by baby gates held a quilt, plastic toys, metal dishes of water, lettuce and some kind of pellets. Therein roamed a pig. A pig. Small and white with gray spots. A door with a doggie flap opened onto what looked like a screened porch.
He was still shaking his head in disbelief when his cell phone rang. Plucking it from his pocket he saw his twin’s number. “Seth, buddy, where are you this month?”
“I’m back in Afghanistan. My gem contact phoned to say his men found an area of pure lapis. I flew in yesterday to have a look. He was right, and it’s rare to find lapis without occlusions, so we’re dickering on price. I got your text saying you were going to Montana. The family of one of the guys you saved gave you a ranch? Is that true, or did you injure your head as well as your shoulder?”
“It’s true. In fact, I’m there now. I spent my first afternoon hauling hay to cattle in a snowstorm.”
“You’re kidding! What do you know about ranching, dude?”
“Nothing. But Eric Odell’s sister—his folks are the ones who gave me the ranch—she’s been running the ranch. Their grandfather owned it before he died. She’s a teacher, and Eric’s parents told me she wants to get back to her career. But I had to admit, trekking after her today I saw how much I don’t know. I had hoped she might stay awhile to give me pointers.”
“But?”
“But...then I came in the house. She’s got dollhouses everywhere. Like, is it a fetish? And, Seth, I discovered she keeps a pig as a house pet. Now I wonder if she’s been tucked away in this remote spot to hide the fact she’s eccentric, to put it mildly.”
His brother laughed loudly. “If you have the deed, kick her out. Hire an old cowboy to teach you what you need to know. Seems to me you’ve stepped into a sweetheart deal. I’m envious that you get to live in wide-open
