Snow Melts in Spring (27 page)

FIFTY-ONE

GIL SAT ON THE TOP RAIL OF DUSTY’S PEN AND STARED INTO THE moonlight. The fence work now complete, all that remained was packing his father’s belongings. Then he could get back to his life in California — and start getting over a certain lady veterinarian.

The first three truckloads of cattle would soon ship to their pastures for summer grazing, but by then, he and his dad should be gone. Jake and two hired hands would serve as pasturemen for the season. Every detail had been attended to, including assigning Mattie as trustee for the ranch — if she agreed.

He rubbed the muscles of his neck, which ached from long hours of building fence. It boggled his mind that his dad asked Mattie to serve as custodian, but he guessed it made sense. She would stay on at the ranch, and he would leave.

You’re still running.

Mattie’s accusation haunted him. He remembered the morning he’d wrestled with the bull when she’d called him a coward. Nearly a month had passed since he’d proposed to her, and other than a brief hello at church on Sundays, the two of them hadn’t spoken. His heart ached for her, but what could he do? She was too stubborn to see that he couldn’t live here.

Or was he really a coward?

The shuffling sound of boots in the grass prompted him to glance behind into the darkness.

“I thought it might be you out here.” Jake came up beside him and rested his arms on the top rail. A full moon shown above and cast an ethereal glow on the old man and his cowboy hat.

“Am I wrong to take Dad from this land?” Gil asked.

Jake spit a stream of tobacco to the ground. “You really wanna know what I think?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”

“Seems to me you’re carrying a world of hurt inside you. Been carrying it a lot of years now. For some reason, these hills don’t offer you the medicine they do for others. Don’t know why, exactly.”

“You believe I’m running too?”

“There are those who love these hills, and those who can’t wait to get away.” Dusty came up to the fence, and Jake reached out to pet the horse’s nose. “When I first started work here, I remember a youngster who couldn’t wait to go outside and help his dad, whether that meant mucking stalls in the barn or working cattle in the pasture. That boy wanted to throw a rope and ride his pony, eager for the day and mad at night when his mama made him come in for a bath and supper.” The ranch hand grinned, his smile lit by the moonlight.

“He once told me he’d never leave this ranch — couldn’t pry him from it with a fence post,” Jake added. “You’re all grown up now, but I reckon that boy’s inside you yet.”

Gil zoomed back to the days of his youth, before Jenna, before they lost Frank, to a time when he’d been content following his dad through the many chores on the ranch. He remembered his mama wrapping her arms around him after they’d said their bedtime prayers, and then there was Frank, the big brother Gil looked up to and whose footsteps he wanted to follow.

He closed his eyes and let himself remember.

THE NEXT AFTERNOON, MATTIE SAT ON HER PARENTS’ TERRACE WITH her father, having left Travis in charge of her patients for the entire weekend.

“It’s going to be nice having you here,” he said. “We’ve been worried about you, Mattie girl. You sounded quite upset last night when you called.”

Mattie’s face heated, embarrassed at her display of emotion.

He stretched his arm along the back of the gliding bench, and Mattie rested her head against it. She gazed at her mother’s patio flowers — irises and pansies in a multitude of colors.

“Come on, talk to me. What’s troubling you? Does it have anything to do with the fight you had with that fellow of yours?”

“You could say that.” Mattie closed her eyes and prayed for the right words to tell her father. She wanted to share with him everything she’d been going through, but at the same time, she didn’t want to hurt him.

“Jenna seemed to think you might still be upset with us for moving to the city.” He lifted his arm from her neck and straightened in the metal glider. “Is that part of it?”

Mattie turned to him and noted the new wrinkles on his face, the lines at the corner of his gray eyes. “I wish you lived closer — that we were closer.”

Her father nodded. “I’ve blamed myself a hundred times for not trying harder to keep the home place or resettle there. Your mother has too. But we can’t undo our mistakes . . . I’m not sure we would if we had the chance. You have to understand that times were hard for us then.”

“I think I’m beginning to understand how complicated things can become,” she said. All her life, Mattie considered the Flint Hills her home, her destiny, especially after her parents lost their ranch. Owning property there — getting back the land they’d lost had become her obsession.

Now that she had the chance to make that dream a reality, the thought didn’t hold as much satisfaction as it once had. “I’m so confused,” she said, then proceeded to tell about Gil’s deception and proposal, and John’s offer to let her oversee the Lightning M.

“Sounds like you’ve got quite a predicament.” Her dad scratched his thinning hair. “You know I can’t tell you what to do. People make mistakes — some worse than others. I’m sure Gil regrets that he wasn’t upfront with you from the start. As for the land, your mom and I made a decision to leave Charris County. I won’t lie to you — there are days when my heart aches for the smooth feel of leather reins in my hands, or for the pungent smell of freshly mown prairie hay. But we’ve adjusted. We made ourselves a new home and life.” He offered her a reticent smile. “I traded my cowboy boots in for a pair of loafers.”

Mattie nudged his thick waist. “You still wear your boots to church. I’ve seen you.”

He shrugged. “True, but I’ve discovered loafers can fit comfortably too. Know what I mean, Mattie? The point is, your mom and I loved each other through all those hard years, and we made another life work for us. In the end, the land won’t keep you warm at night.”

His last statement rang inside Mattie’s head. She’d heard similar words from John. But still . . . to trade the simplicity of Kansas for California and give Gil her heart? She didn’t know if she could take such a leap of faith.

ON A MISSION TO PUT TO REST THE BAD MEMORIES AND REPLACE them with a few good ones, Gil drove past Miller’s pond where he and his buddies fished for crawdads and frogs. He revisited the rodeo grounds where Frank and he roped steers, and even spent some time at the football stadium. When he’d reminisced enough, he turned onto a winding dirt road through the Flint Hills, passing over several pasture guards until he finally arrived at the edge of Emporia.

Prompted to visit the Marshall boy again, to see if his recovery had been as good as Dusty’s, Gil pulled into the parking lot of the hospital and turned off the diesel engine. A receptionist at the front desk gave Gil directions to the rehabilitation unit where he’d heard Dillon was receiving further care. He headed for the elevators and eventually found the teen in the rehab dining hall sitting in a wheelchair. When he approached the boy’s table, the attendant stood to offer Gil his seat.

Dillon looked up, and his lips formed into a lopsided grin. “Didn’t think I’d see you again, Mr. McCray.”

Gil took the chair opposite the boy. “Me neither. And please call me Gil. Mr. McCray sounds so old,” he teased, then latched onto an extra straw on the table, trying not to notice the deep scars on the boy’s face. “How are you doing?”

Dillon looked down at his motionless legs. “I’m learning to get around. Me and another boy race the halls.”

“That’s cool.” Gil struggled with the awkwardness, not sure what to say next. Why’d he even come?

“How ’bout you?” Dillon asked, his words slightly slurred. “How’s your horse?”

Gil tore the paper from the straw and tied it into a knot. “Dusty’s good. I’m good.”

“Don’t you live in California?”

The boy’s sharp memory surprised Gil. “I had some things I needed to take care of here on my dad’s ranch.”

Dillon took a bite of his lasagna, then shoved the plate to the side. “I’ve thought a lot about what you said when you were here before. Got lots of time to think now.”

Gil forced a smile.

“I’ve been reading the Bible.” Dillon placed his hands on the side of his chair and pushed the wheels backward. “Come on, I have something I want to show you.”

Gil followed Dillon down the hall to his room. The football he’d given him sat on the windowsill and a game show blared from a television high on the wall. The teen went straight to a Bible that lay on his nightstand.

“I killed my friend,” Dillon said. “I have to live with that. You wished you could have saved your brother. I know what guilt can do — I feel it every day.” He opened the Bible, then thumbed through the onionskin pages to a passage in the middle, marked by a red ribbon.

“People tell me I need to forgive myself, so I can go on.” The boy’s voice shook with irritation. “Why do they say that? Who am I to forgive myself?” He punched a button on the remote control and the television screen went blank. The only sound in the room now came from Dillon’s wheezing breath, and the thumping pulse in Gil’s neck.

“Forgiveness is important.” Gil hoped to calm the boy — make him feel better. “Without it, we’d be lost.”

“But I didn’t just sin against myself, I sinned against God. This book showed me that.” He searched the open page until his finger landed on a verse. “Here, look what else I found.”

He handed the Bible to Gil, and Gil read the verses he indicated. “The Lord is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love.”

The boy pointed further down the page. “According to this, God won’t be angry at me forever. He won’t blame me for the awful things I’ve done — as long as I’m truly sorry.”

Dillon took the Bible in his hands and laid it on his lap. “I’m not the smartest kid in my class. But I know who my Savior is. And I know that I’m forgiven.”

He stared down at his lap and began reading. “As far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us.” His voice grew hoarser with every word spoken. “As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him; for he knows how we are formed, he remembers that we are dust.”

“As for man, his days are like grass . . .” Gil finished the familiar passage, the same verse he’d recited to his dad.

It was as though Gil understood the words for the very first time.

FIFTY-TWO

“THEY’RE LETTING ME GO HOME TOMORROW,” DILLON SAID AFTER THE two had talked for over an hour. “I’d give anything to go to the high school rodeo this weekend in Diamond Falls. But Dad won’t let me. Says it’d be too much of a strain.”

During their visit, Gil learned that Dillon had team roped, and that he’d been good with a horse. An idea began to form. “What if I could arrange for you to go? Would you be willing to speak in front of your peers? Admit to them what you told me tonight?”

The boy nodded. “If it might keep one of my friends from making the stupid mistake I made, you bet I would.”

Gil calculated the steps needed to accomplish what he had in mind. He fingered the smooth face of the watch in his pocket. There just might be enough time to put his plan into motion.

Forty minutes later, Gil pulled off the side of the road at an abandoned homestead and picked a handful of purple iris. He had one more stop to make before going home. The sweet scent of the spring flowers filled the truck cab as he drove to the cemetery. He followed the path to the stone markers and knelt beside his mother’s grave.

“I’m sorry, Mama, for not telling you good-bye.” He laid the flowers on the granite rock. “I wish you could’ve met Mattie. She’s so much like you — I think you would have approved.”

He fingered the smooth marble, then turned to Frank’s grave. “And you, big brother. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you the night you died. I made a lot of mistakes back then, but that’s the one I hate the most — that and what I did with Jenna.” Gil looked toward the setting sun and raised his voice to God, his mouth praying the verses he’d read.

“Search me and know my heart, Lord. Do not harbor your anger toward me forever. As far as the east is from the west, so far have you removed my transgressions from me. I believe it, Lord. Help me believe it.”

Once the words were out, an immense burden lifted from Gil’s chest. For the first time in twenty years he felt truly free — free to live the life God wanted him to live. He lifted himself from the moist ground, and as he did so, the metal timepiece in his pocket seemed to weigh him down. Knowing then what needed to be done, Gil reached into his jeans and pulled out the silver watch his coach had given him in California.

“Coach, I know you’d understand my reason for passing this on,” he murmured and laid the watch on Frank’s gravestone, no longer needing to keep track of the time.

“I’M GOING TO MISS THESE HILLS,” HIS DAD SAID THE NEXT MORNING as the two of them stood out on the veranda. The sun peeked over the eastern horizon and cast a warm yellow glow over the land.

“No, you won’t,” Gil assured him and squeezed the man’s shoulders. “Why don’t you and Jake go into town and have breakfast at the café. I have plenty here to keep me busy.” He searched the barnyard for Mattie’s truck. “You haven’t seen the doc this morning, have you?”

“Ain’t seen her since Thursday.” His father’s lips twisted into an ornery grin. “You gonna talk to her again?”

Gil let the question slide. “I’ll send Jake to pick you up so the two of you can catch up on all the news in town. Wouldn’t want you to miss out on this week’s highlights.”

“The only talk this week will be about our leaving,” his dad said. “Guess now’s as good a time as any to say good-bye.”

Gil patted his father’s shoulders. “It won’t be so bad, you’ll see,” he said, then headed down the steps for Mattie’s cabin.

When he knocked on her door, she wasn’t there.

He searched the clinic.

Upon finding it empty, he walked out to check Dusty’s water. The chestnut nickered and met Gil at the trough. Gil smoothed his hand over the gelding’s back and hindquarters. His chest and front legs were healing well, and the scars on Dusty’s face had turned a shiny black.

“How you doing there, boy?”

Dusty placed his head in the crook of Gil’s arm. He rubbed the horse’s nose with affection.

Trust.

Dusty had always trusted him, even when he didn’t deserve it.

Gil thought of his plan for Dillon and the high school rodeo.

“Hey, buddy.” Gil leaned down and pressed his forehead against Dusty’s. “I need you to trust me once more. It’s going to be hard, but I have one last job for you to do for me.”

GIL DROVE INTO DIAMOND FALLS TO TALK TO SOME PEOPLE ABOUT the rodeo, including Dillon’s dad. After he’d taken care of his business, he stopped by Clara’s Café.

“Heard anything from Mattie?” he asked when the waitress approached him with a menu.

Clara frowned. “What’s it to you?”

The woman either knew about the proposal or had heard the news about them leaving the ranch. The hostility in the air was enough to choke on. “It’s everything to me,” Gil said quietly, beseeching Mattie’s friend with his eyes. “Do you know where she is?”

Clara slapped the menu on the counter by his elbow. “Maybe.”

“Come on, Clara. You either know or you don’t.”

“She went to see her folks this weekend. Maybe her mom finally talked her into applying for a job there.” The woman placed her hands on her hips, unmoved by his pleas. “I wouldn’t blame Mattie if she gave in. Not much of a future for her here.”

Gil stared down at the menu. Was Mattie that desperate? He’d never known her to spend any amount of time in the city, let alone an entire weekend. “When will she be back?”

Clara pursed her lips and shook her head. “Even if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you.”

Gil had tolerated enough of this woman’s antagonism. “Listen, Clara, I know you’re sore with me, but I need you to do me a favor.” He took a pen from his shirt pocket and scribbled a note on a napkin. “It’s important. Make sure Mattie gets this message and comes to the rodeo tomorrow afternoon.”

“What if she refuses?”

He stood up from the stool and towered over the woman. “Clara, if you truly want Mattie to be happy, see that she’s at the arena at one o’clock. I don’t care if you have to hogtie her to your car.”

The next afternoon, Gil searched the crowded stands for Mattie’s red hair. From where he stood, he couldn’t see her anywhere, but he spotted his dad, Jake, and Mildred on the bottom level of the middle bleachers.

Dillon and his parents waited by Gil’s side at the arena gates. He gave the boy in the wheelchair a reassuring smile. “You ready?”

Dillon nodded but looked like he might puke his guts out.

“The first minute is always the worst. After that, you’ll be fine,” Gil said, then turned to Dusty and adjusted the saddle once more.

He patted the gelding, feeling a tad nervous himself. With all his charity work and the crowds he’d spoken to, he’d never done anything quite like this before. The preliminary music played over the loudspeakers — Gil’s cue to begin.

“Okay, here goes nothing.” He mounted Dusty, then adjusted his hat and took the flag handed him. As he entered the arena, the entire crowd stood as the national anthem began to play. He commenced at a walk, then eased Dusty into a trot, taking it slow as he’d done yesterday in the pasture. When he felt the horse ready, Gil clicked him into an easy lope, and together the two moved as one to the rhythm of the music.

The flag whipped above his head as he circled the arena. When the song neared its end, Gil positioned Dusty in the center of the ring, humbled by the massive applause. An older gentleman and a rodeo queen came out to meet him. He passed the wooden pole to the girl, who turned out to be Natalie Adams. She winked up at him and smiled. Then the gentleman handed him a cordless microphone.

Silence filled the stands. Gil swore he could hear his heart beating inside his chest.

“I want to thank you for allowing me to speak here today,” he began. “For those who don’t know me, my name’s Gilbert McCray. I grew up in Charris County and participated in a few rodeos like this one. Then my older brother Frank died in a vehicle accident. He and his friend were drunk, and both were killed. For a long time, I blamed myself for what happened to Frank. I moved away and became a quarterback for the San Francisco 49ers. Recently I came back, but only because of an accident involving the horse I’m on now.

“Five months ago, Dusty nearly died when a drunk driver ran into him. He lost a lot of blood and injured his upper legs, chest, and eye. The veterinarian handling the case suggested putting him down, but my dad wouldn’t let her. Because of my father’s determination and the special care Dusty received from Dr. Mattie Evans, I’m able to ride Dusty today, the same horse I trained over twenty-two years ago.”

Sighs of disbelief escaped from the crowd, along with a few encouraging whistles.

“I’m telling you this, because I want you to know that good things can come from bad. Even the worst sins can be forgiven. My sins are no exception. Yours aren’t either. A young man convinced me of this the other day, and you’ll be hearing from him in a few minutes.”

Gil swallowed to relieve the dryness in his throat. He clutched the saddle horn to keep his hand from trembling and glanced at the two behind him. They nodded their support. “Dusty’s better today and will soon be retired to pasture, like me.”

He grinned and returned his eyes to the crowd.

“Some of you may have heard the recent stir that my father and I are leaving the Flint Hills to retire out in California. I’d like to put that rumor to rest.”

Gil targeted his dad in the audience and smiled. “California was a nice idea, but it was a mistake. This is my home. Dad and I will not be moving, but will stay at the Lightning M to graze cattle for as long as God allows.” He took a quick breath and continued before he chickened out. “There’s another rumor floating around that I’d like to tackle, if you’ll hang with me for a few more minutes.”

He paused and searched the assembly. “Is Dr. Evans in the stands this afternoon?”

The crowd stirred with laughter and a few hoots.

“If you’re sitting by Mattie Evans, would you please wave your hand? The doc is kinda short, with red hair and green eyes, and she’s probably extremely embarrassed right now.”

An older woman on the far end of the bleachers stood and waved. “Here she is, Gil.” She tugged on the lady next to her, and Mattie slowly rose.

The audience began chanting Mattie’s name, and Gil beckoned her to come to the center of the arena. Mattie shook her head vigorously, but at the urgings of the crowd, she slowly began making her way down the bleachers.

“Four weeks ago, I asked this woman to marry me.” Gil spoke into the microphone and ignored the whoops from the audience, concentrating on Mattie as she walked out across the cultivated dirt. “She turned me down, but I’d like to try again and see if her answer is any different — now that we won’t be moving to California.”

Mattie stopped halfway between him and the bleachers. Afraid she might change her mind, Gil slipped from the saddle and flipped off the microphone. He closed the distance between them and knelt before her, shutting out the sound of the crowd much like he’d done all those years playing football.

Dressed in blue jeans and a green-checkered western shirt with her long curls flowing in the afternoon sunlight, Mattie looked more beautiful than he’d ever seen her before. He might never remember what she wore this day, but Gil was sure the shiny gleam in her eyes would stay with him the rest of his life.

He took his hat off and held it in his hand. “What do you say, Doc? Will you marry me?”

She sent him a scolding look that promised more conversation later. Then she held out the napkin with words written in blue ink.
I’m sorry — I’ve been a fool.

“I’m sorry too,” she said, and her mouth twitched as though she might cry. “If you really want to move to California, I’m prepared to go with you.”

Gil stood and pulled her into his arms. “Do you know how much I love you, woman? I love that you’re willing to sacrifice your dreams for us — that you’d do that for me. But it won’t be necessary. I finally realized that holding on to my guilt and sin granted them more power than the Lord’s forgiveness. Do you know how stupid that was? If I truly believe that Christ forgives sins, then that includes mine. Once I got that through my thick skull, my love for the Lightning M — these hills — came rushing back. Dad and I are staying.” He kissed her then, long and hard, welcoming the taste of her mouth on his with promise of more to come. When he came up for air, he clicked the microphone back on.