| Subject: Big Blue Sky Part Eleven |
Author:
Karen
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Date Posted: 11:39:28 03/10/07 Sat
In reply to:
Karen
's message, "Big Blue Sky" on 20:35:06 04/21/06 Fri
Hi Everyone: Today is my birthday and my present to you is another chapter of Big Blue Sky. Never fear I have another chapter ready to go and another in the works. I’ve finally almost got the house finished and my brain is working again.
If you are new to this story the rest can be found at http://www.jagnavy-marineadvocate.com/. You should read The Setup first though as this is a sequel.
Thanks to everyone for your patience and thanks to those who wrote and told me they were waiting patiently for this.
Big Blue Sky
Chapter Eleven
Brookes ranch
Western Montana
9:30 Friday
Right after breakfast, Harm called the funeral home, giving instructions for the service according to the sparse wishes expressed by Beth. A normally strong woman, she simply couldn’t take on the task of planning a third funeral in ten years. Her husband, Ben Brookes, had come in from feeding the cattle one evening ten years ago, and dropped dead on the porch. Joan’s older brother Rod, had died in a far off desert less than a year later, after returning to duty following his fathers’ funeral. Now she’d not only lost her daughter, but her beloved son-in-law whom she saw as the family rock.
She was accepting Harm, but warily. He had the distinct idea if he wasn’t able to resign his commission soon he would have two teenagers living with him in Seattle, and Beth would be in a rest home somewhere. There was no indication she wouldn’t recover her strength, but she needed time, and she couldn’t take much more stress.
Harm returned to the family room to find Mac. She had completed her morning task and replaced the weapons in the gun safe. He approached with as much of a smile as the circumstances would permit.
“I called Mom,” he announced.
“How’s Frank?” was Mac’s immediate concern.
“He’s doing fine, but they won’t be able to travel. He wants Mom to fly up alone, but she’s torn. She doesn’t want to leave him.”
“That’s understandable,” Mac agreed.
“Yeah. I told her she should stay with him. We’d represent the family,” he comforted, pulling her into a gentle hug. “She is sending the flowers though.”
“That’s nice.” Mac’s voice was somewhat muffled against his chest.
“All the flowers,” Harm corrected.
“All??”
“Uh huh. She said it was the least she could do. I told her that Beth had asked for yellow roses and white snapdragons, and she said her florist would have them on a plane this afternoon. She uses him for every opening at the gallery, has for years. I guess he appreciates her business,” Harm’s mouth quirked ruefully with his words.
“I can imagine,” Mac gave a soft smile in return. “That’s very generous of her.”
“She feels bad she can’t come. It made her feel better to do this. So, I accepted graciously and told her to take care of Frank. We can hold a small memorial or something when they’re able to get up here.”
“Sounds like a good plan,” Mac agreed.
They stood comforting each other for another minute or two, then with a deep sigh Harm suggested, “Shall we go find Billy and see what he has in store for me today?”
“I’d like that,” she agreed with a bit of tease in her voice.
They walked across the yard and down the slope of the valley to the bull pens, but Billy couldn’t be found. Aron came out of one of the pastures and greeted them warmly. “Captain, Colonel, what can I do for you?”
A large man with a friendly demeanor and a strong back, Aron was perfectly capable of performing any task he was given. Though, except for routine chores, he simply didn’t possess the capacity to figure out what that next task should be.
“We were looking for Billy,” Harm answered. “He wants to give me another riding lesson.”
“Well, I don’t know,” Aron thought hard, scratching his head, then replacing his hat. “I think he said something about rounding up some help with the cattle for Monday. He could be up at his house, or he might be in the office in the barn.”
“We’ll take a look. Thanks, Aron.” Harm and Mac turned as one and headed back to the barn.
Billy wasn’t in the office and they decided not to bother him at his house. Harm glanced toward the pasture that held the ranch horses, and a devilish gleam twinkled in his eyes.
“What do you say we go for a ride?”
“Where?”
“Anywhere,” he shrugged. “We’ve hardly seen any of the ranch.”
“I thought you had an appointment with Billy,” she cautioned, narrowing her eyes.
“I do, but he’s obviously busy. We’ll catch him later.” The adventurous little boy in Harm was operating on full engines.
“Harm, if you ride all morning, then Billy puts you through your paces later, your gonna be one sore cowboy tonight.”
“Well, then,” he took her arm, pulled her close, and whispered suggestively, “I guess you’ll just have to give me a massage.”
“You’re a devil, you know,” she punctuated her words with a soft swat on the arm.
“I know, and I know something else, too.”
“What’s that?”
“You love me for it.”
She stopped and looked up into his mischievous eyes. “You’re right about that, flyboy.”
“Let’s go. I see a horse out there I’m just itching to ride,” he indicated a gorgeous gaited palomino moving gracefully across the pasture.
“I don’t know, Harm, he looks like a handful,” she answered warily.
“C’mon, Mac. I’m a better rider than either you or Billy give me credit for.” Grabbing a couple halters from inside the tack room, he turned towards the pasture, leaving Mac to catch up.
“Besides, I want to check out the ranch. We haven’t been out much, if I’m going to run this place I need to know where stuff is,” he explained as she hurried to catch his long legged stride.
They spent about two hours roaming between the various pastures. The valley portion of the ranch had been cross-fenced, with tracks in between the grazing areas wide enough for farm equipment to pass.
One large pasture was obviously the nursery holding the cows with their young offspring. On the opposite side, they found the currently pregnant cows that would produce next year’s crop. A third pasture farther out held heifers that were in their resting cycle, and those too young to breed, but were being reserved to add to the ranches stock. The steers from this same yield were the ones that remained in the hills. They needed to be brought down, quickly as winter was fast approaching. The cattle for this year’s market had been rounded up and shipped much earlier in the fall.
They’d ridden across the narrow waist of the valley discovering the layout of things then up and down its length before riding back into the yard. Leading their horses into the barn, they found Billy with two other horses, haltered and tied to a post. He was half finished saddling one.
“Better put up that showpiece and get your mount saddled, Captain. If you’re going to participate in the roundup as anything but a spectator you have to know how to ride one of these cutting horses.”
“Why won’t this one work?” Harm asked. He was rather fond of the image he had of himself mounted on the tall, showy, golden, gelding.
“Real purty horse, but Nugget’s not much good for anything ‘cept parades,” Billy scoffed. “Ben used to ride in a drill team. He had another horse that he took to parades and rodeos, but it was getting too old to work. He was starting that one when his heart gave out. Beth wouldn’t let us sell him. Shaun and I finished him, and he rides him some, but that one’s not a cutting horse. Doesn’t have a drop of workin’ blood in his body, even though he came from the same stallion as that little paint of Sam’s,” Billy finished the detailed explanation for no particular reason.
“Now that little grey quarab mare the Colonel is riding is a heck of a cutting horse, but she’s too short for you. This one here will work better.” He pointed to a well muscled, broad-chested, sixteen hand tall, deep red sorrel gelding that stood quietly tethered to a post. “He’s tall enough, but he has the moves for cutting cattle.”
Harm didn’t quite understand, but he was eager to learn. He quickly did as he was instructed, brushed Nugget out, and led him back to the pasture.
When he returned, Mac had brought an appropriate saddle from the tack room, a different style from the one they’d used for their morning ride. Harm groaned inwardly at more time in the saddle, but knew it was his duty to learn as much as he could as quickly as possible, and it had been his idea. With the thought of Mac’s earlier promise, a secret smile slipped across his face. Giving his back a cursory rub, he followed Billy out of the barn into the large arena.
Climbing only a little stiffly into the saddle he turned to his mentor, “What do I do now?”
“Not much,” Billy sniffed. “It’s sorta like a dogfight from the back seat of one of your jets, only lower to the ground. Where’d you two get yourselves off to anyway?”
“We couldn’t find you, and no one knew where you were, so we rode out to investigate,” Harm smiled disarmingly.
“Sorry about that, Captain. I should have let you know. I was up at the house phoning around. We need a few extra hands for Monday. We’ve left those steers up there too long as it is, and weather’s turning, they’re predicting a storm by Wednesday. Those cattle have to come down now.”
Harm nodded his agreement to the plan only because it sounded logical. He was still learning and would save his questions for later.
When Harm had settled comfortably in the saddle, Billy adjusted his stirrups properly, then took him and his mount through a half an hour of exercises. He demonstrated the moves the horse would make while working.
“Hang on, Captain.” Billy had only time to warn him, before Aron let five calves out of a gate at the far end of the ring. Needing no cue, Rusty took off after them, penning them at one end of the enclosure.
Giving Harm a little time to get used to the quick movements his horse was making, Billy showed him how to head the horse to a selected steer, and then stay out of its business.
“A good cutting horse knows what to do, Captain,” Billy instructed. “Once he‘s been given his target, leave him alone and just stay with him. He’ll do the rest.”
By the time they were finished, Billy pulled a broad grin and pronounced, “You’re not quite ready to rodeo, but good enough to be useful. At least I won’t have to make you ride drag.” Laughing at his own joke, he turned his mount over to Harm and Mac and excused himself to go make some more phone calls. He still had to line up two more hands for Monday’s roundup.
Harm and Mac brushed the horses, and while he led them out to the pasture where the other ranch horses spent their days, Mac finished wiping down the saddles and headstalls. It had been a good ride, and Harm felt more confident than ever he could become a useful addition to a whole new way of life. He returned to the barn just as Mac carried the last saddle to its rack and pushed at the tack room door.
A glint of mischief lit his eye, and he made his move.
“Harm, what are you doing?” Mac protested, more curious than alarmed.
He scooped her around the waist and pulled her between the haystacks, pushing her back against the high stacked bales.
“I remember something someone once said about a roll in the hay.” He smiled suggestively, then brought his lips firmly down on hers, leaning full against her with his hard body. He supported himself with his hands placed against the baled grass at each of her shoulders.
“Harm we can’t, not here, not now,” she protested weakly, as his lips retreated.
“I know,” he accepted, then raised an expressive eyebrow. “In the first place, this stuff isn’t as soft as it’s rumored to be.” He lifted one hand and examined the sharp indentations in his palm.
“Of course we could always…” he demonstrated, wrapping his hands around her waist and turning her so his back was to the hay. “There that’s better for you,” he whispered nibbling her ear and returning to her mouth for another kiss. She melted against him wondering what had gotten into her sailor. In all the years she’d known him he’d been practically ascetic on the subject of PDA, and now he was compensating wildly.
“Uh, Harm,” she didn’t want to discourage his attentions, but there were so many things to consider here.
“I know, Mac,” he replied, his forehead touching hers. “But it seemed like fun to just act like teenagers for a minute when no one was looking.” His smile was sheepish, almost embarrassed for the notion.
“It’s not such a bad idea, cowboy. After all, the kids are still in school, and I doubt most of the ranch hands spend much time in the haystack.” Stepping back, she moved sideways so they were behind the tons of baled grass.
“There now, no one can see us, even if they come into the barn,” she smiled, moving her body close against him.
“I like the way you think, ma’am,” he replied giving it a broad western twang and recapturing her mouth yet again.
This time his hands roamed her back, seeking the comfort and closeness of touch, dipping just below her beltline, but not too far. He brought them back up her sides just missing the edges of her breasts before wrapping her again in his deep embrace. He was fairly certain most teenagers got away with much more on a casual date than he was doing with his own wife, but a lot of those kids had no respect for each other and he would never compromise Mac. He cared for her too much. On the other hand stealing a kiss when no one was looking was sort of fun.
Dimly, he heard a voice from somewhere outside.
“Captain, Colonel, you in there? Joe will be here in about forty-five minutes. Captain? Now where the devil did they go, dammit, they left the tack room door open,” Billy muttered as he shut the door firmly and threw the bolt.
They heard his footsteps recede, and looked at each other with a combination of light guilt and impishness. Harm was the first to speak.
“Busted,” he ventured.
“Yep,” she agreed.
“This would have been more fun than tending a wounded bull,” he remarked ruefully.
“No doubt.”
“Duty calls,” he heaved a deep breath. Kissing her once more for good measure, he took her hand as they slipped quietly from behind the haystack.
They just had time to get to the kitchen for half a sandwich and a glass of tea before they saw Joe’s truck pull into the yard. Looking out the kitchen window, he saw Shaun race across the yard toward the bull pens.
“Let’s go,” he nodded, and cocked an eye at Mac
“Right behind you,” she replied.
“I think this is going to be a lot harder than being a fighter jock, Mac.” Harm chuckled uncomfortably as they walked across the yard and down to the bull pens. His gait was somewhat altered by the stiffening muscles in his back and legs.
Later that evening
Harm was sipping a cup of coffee, his foot propped on the wooden seat beneath the front window next to the old fireplace, when he saw the truck pull into the yard. Behind him, Shaun was reciting to his grandmother and sister the events of that afternoon.
“And Joe says he’ll make a full recovery, Gramma,” the young man declared proudly. “Another week or so and we might have lost that bull, but we caught it just in time. I can’t wait to get to college and start testing some of these remedies, to see just how they react with the damaged and diseased tissue,” he referred to his lifelong desire to attend a top class veterinary school.
“A lot of people think it’s just believing hard,” Billy offered. “That the animal would have mended on his own in time.”
“You know that’s not true in this case, sir,” Shaun objected. His tone was respectful but firm. This success had given him confidence in his beliefs. “The vet had done everything he could. He was recommending we put that bull down. Now it’s on its way to good health again. Believing may work on humans, but I can’t see how it would work on cattle.”
“Now, Shaun…,” Beth remonstrated.
“Someone’s coming,” Harm remarked. Putting down his cup, he shoved off the stone wall, heading for the door. Billy was one step behind him. Mac, due to where she’d been seated in the room, was one step behind Billy. Beth and the children stayed where they were, confident whoever it was would be invited in.
The man at the door wore the uniform of the County Sheriff. Tom Borden had been one of the volunteer guests at Harm and Mac’s impromptu wedding, and he hated bringing bad news to this family so soon, but they needed to be warned.
“Come in, Sheriff,” Harm held out his hand.
“Well, I don’t know,” he cautioned. Looking warily through to the living room, he was uncertain of the effect of his information on Beth. Everyone who knew her was aware of her suddenly withdrawn, almost fragile demeanor, since the loss of Charlie and Joan.
“Come on in, Tom,” she called with a welcoming wave. “It’s going to worry me more to wonder, than to hear what you have to say.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he obeyed, stepping inside as Harm and Billy stepped back and returned to their places.
“Have a seat, would you like a cup of coffee?” she inquired graciously in spite of her concern.’
“Yes, ma’am, I would. That would go down real nice. It’s getting cold out there, and I have a few more calls to make.”
“Fine. Sam, go get the sheriff some coffee, you know how he likes it,” she instructed her granddaughter. “Then both of you scoot upstairs and do your homework.”
Her instructions were followed, but not without the attendant grumblings and groaning that order always elicited from teenagers. “Go on, now,” Beth reiterated. “If it’s anything you need to know, I’ll tell you at breakfast.”
Once she heard their doors close upstairs, she turned back to the sheriff, “What is it Tom?” She stiffened preparing for bad news. Her instincts told her this wasn’t a social call.
“It’s the Parsons. They got hit today.” He gave the news straight and clean.
“Dead?” She went white.
“No! No, nothing like that. Sorry, Beth, I should have thought before speaking,” Tom Borden apologized. “But they got hit for twenty-five head.”
“Good grief, that’s half their crop,” Beth exclaimed.
“Twenty-five head?” Harm asked automatically. A year’s crop for this ranch was between four and five thousand animals.
“Boutique farming, they call it,” Billy explained pronouncing the word ‘bootik’. “Their herds are smaller, but they grow them organically. Everything goes to a high-end specialty market of exclusive restaurants and expensive stores. They make about twenty-five to thirty percent more per head than average.
“Organic?” Harm questioned. “Organic beef?” It was something he’d never heard of. But then, he’d never been that fond of beef. What had been served since he’d been here the last few days was better than any beef he’d ever had except in that ‘place’ in Japan.
“Sure. You’ve heard of organic fruit and vegetables, organic milk products.”
“Yes, I have, but…”
“Well these people raise their cattle the same way, no chemical supplements or steroids, no pesticides on their food supply. Some of them even raise their own feed to ensure their product is pure. Matter of fact almost anything that comes from any farm in the US is being raised organically by someone, fish too, if they’re farm raised. Some people are willing to pay more for it, but it’s also more work for the farmers and ranchers. In the end they don’t clear a lot more money, but for some it’s worth the effort,” he shrugged expressively.
“What about us?” was Harms next question.
“Don’t know, maybe we could be certified if we wanted to look into it. It’s on Shaun’s mind,” he allowed. “We’re kinda unique. We have the best pasture around these parts, and enough of it to raise our own feed and graze the cattle all summer. Ben’s great-great-grandfather got here first, and staked out his claim on the best land. When the cattle out grew the land, he acquired more. He fought some nasty range wars to hold the ranch, and bought out everyone who wanted to sell, but in the end he left a large, stable, operation behind.”
“I see,” Harm mused, then suddenly switched subjects. “But the Parsons weren’t hurt?” he turned back to the sheriff. There were more important issues before them than his continuing education in the cattle industry. However, he filed the information away for another time.
“No, thank God,” the sheriff exclaimed. “But I thought you should know. I hear you still have that herd in the upper pasture. Just thought I’d warn you.”
“Sheriff, tell them we’ll help,” Beth leaned forward placing her hand on the peace officer’s arm.
“Yes, ma’am.”
He knew she was referring to the old-time ranchers’ way of looking out for each other whenever something bad happened. People had flocked to help her when Ben died, before Joan and Charlie could get here, and again when her son Rod was killed. Now they’d done it again until the Captain and the Colonel showed up. Mostly, in Beth’s case, it had been emotional support and some chores, rather than financial aid, but the Brooks’ had always been first to step up when tragedy befell anyone else. Once again, Beth was leading the way.
“Absolutely,” Harm parroted Beth’s sentiments, as they rose with the sheriff to walk him back to the door. This time only Billy and Harm accompanied him. Harm out of courtesy, and Billy because he had a sneaking suspicion that was soon satisfied.
Sheriff Borden turned at the door his hat in his hand.
“Your ears only, gentlemen,” he spoke low. “I have word they will hit you soon. Watch out,” he warned.
Before Harm or Billy could question him further, he placed his hat squarely on his head, and stepped through the door heading for his truck.
End of eleven
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