the ranch house was exactly as he remembered it. The same worn wooden countertop shone in the late afternoon light as it flooded through the open windows above the sink. His mom’s china was displayed pride of place in a china hutch standing in the corner of the room. The white walls and the cool yellow cupboards enhanced the brightness of the cheery kitchen.
He put his hat on the hook by the door and ran his hand through his hair and over his face. Over a day’s worth of stubble prickled against his palm. He needed a shave.
“Where’s Dad?” Ben asked.
“He’ll be here soon, he’s just on the phone with Mr. Hargrave’s assistant again. What was her name again, Mom?”
“Melody Careman or some such thing. I have it written by the phone if you want to have a look.”
Benjamin felt the tension building in his shoulders and the familiar knot in his stomach growing. It was too normal here. Almost as though nothing had changed. He grabbed his hat back off the hook and ducked out the door while both of their backs were turned.
“Ben, you’re not leaving, are you?” Beth caught up with him, breathless.
“I just needed some air.” He took a great lungful of it and then turned back to his sister.
“What’s going on, Ben, why did you stay away so long?” Beth touched his arm and he fought the impulse to pull away.
“You know why,” he mumbled, avoiding her gaze.
“No Ben, I don’t. None of the rest of us ran away. We stayed. Do you know how hard it’s been on Mom and Dad not having you around either? Or me? It’s like we lost you too Ben. Do you have any idea how horrible it was to lose my brother just weeks after my sister died?”
He pulled away and turned his back on her.
“I don’t need this right now, Beth.” He could see the horses in the pasture just out from the barn. What he wouldn’t give to climb up on one and ride away for ever.
“When do you need it then, Ben?” she raged. “You haven’t ‘needed’ it since Rachel died and Jenna ran away.’
Her anger cut him. He wanted to run. He wanted to disappear. But he couldn’t do that. Cowboys don’t turn their back on their problems; they face them head on. The day his sister died he forgot how to be a cowboy.
He opened his mouth to tell Beth that he just needed more time, but before he could get the words out his mother’s voice cut through the uncomfortable silence.
“Dinner’s ready!”
Beth stepped close to him and said in a lowered voice, “Don’t think we’re done with this conversation, Ben, because we aren’t. Just make sure you act happy for Mom and Dad. They’ve been so excited about you coming home. Don’t spoil it for them.”
He turned and watched Beth go back inside and shook his head. In truth, he was happy. It was good to be home again and he knew he’d stayed away too long. He really loved this place. But now the ranch contained sadness too and he wasn’t used to that. He doubted he ever would be. Rachel died but he still had the rest of his family. He needed to remember that.
He followed his sister inside. He vowed to himself that he would make the effort to appreciate all of them now that he was home.
The smell of roast beef assaulted him as soon as he came back into the kitchen. His mom and Beth were placing the last of the meal on the table. His stomach rumbled in approval. He placed his hat back on the hook at the door and took his seat at the old oak table. Honeyed carrots glistened in their dish, mounds of mashed potatoes where piled high in their bowl, and sautéed cabbage, gravy and, best of all, Yorkshire puddings all appeared before him. He felt like a king waiting for a feast held in his honor. If the table hadn’t been so sturdy it would have collapsed when at last his mom placed the juicy roast beef down.
“What’s the occasion? Why the roast?” he asked his mom.
“You, silly,” she said, planting a kiss on his cheek. “It’s not every day you come for dinner.”
Watching his mom and sister he could’ve easily fooled himself that nothing has changed. But the laughter he grew up with wasn’t as loud and the creases around his mother’s eyes told him that the last two years had taken their toll on her too. He hated knowing some of those wrinkles were because of him.
“Ben, you made it!” His dad entered the room with a huge smile on his face.
Lance Copeland looked like every rancher from his generation should: tall, muscled but slightly paunchy around the middle from enjoying years of his wife’s good cooking.
As soon as Ben stood up he was enveloped into a hug. He swayed at the force of his dad slapping his back.
“It’s so good to see you, son. You’ve been away too long.”
Ben caught his dad’s eye and was surprised to see tears gathering along the lashes. He had to clear his throat before responding.
“It’s good to be home. I’ve miss it. I’ve missed you.”
The morning was cool and crisp. Dew dampened the intensity of the prairie aroma and leant a fresh, clean scent to the air. Moisture clung to his horse Thunder’s forelegs as they cantered through the pasture, leaving a trail through the grass where the dew was knocked from the blades..
It’d been a year since Ben had been on a horse. He’d spent his whole life in a saddle until then. It was moments like these that made him wonder why he’d stayed away so long.
He rode through the herd of cows milling around the feed grounds with their new calves at foot. He kept his eyes open for any mis-mothered or sick calves and for any cows that were having trouble calving. The black Angus cows eyed him and Thunder wearily as they waited to be fed. A hired man, one Ben had yet to meet, finished rolling out the last bale of hay to the herd and headed off back towards the yards. He waved at Ben as he rolled past in the flatbed truck.
Ben stopped to watch the cows feeding for a while. They were terrific mothers and often kept their babies on the far side of them, away from Ben and his horse. It made it difficult to see the little guys, but Ben knew that any calves pestering their mothers for a drink were healthy. He was looking for ones that weren’t. He nudged Thunder lightly and they moved off to check the edges of the feed ground and the area beyond. Mother cows liked to hide their calves in tall grass and against sagebrush while they went to eat their breakfast.
He was close to the fence when he heard a cow’s distress call. Over the small rise and in a hollow backing onto a poplar stand was a cow in labor. Ben skirted around the back of the cow to take a better look at her. She was standing with her head down, her sides quivering. A calf’s hoof and tail poked out of her. The poor thing was coming out backwards. He knew even without trying that he’d be unable to chase her back to the corral and the cattle squeeze; she was too far gone.
Ben lightly jumped down from his saddle, careful to keep Thunder between himself and the distressed cow. Animals in pain were unpredictable and he had no desire to be flattened by an angry cow on his first day back on the ranch.
He
