Snow Melts in Spring (5 page)

EIGHT

GIL CLIMBED INTO JAKE’S TRUCK AS THE TOWER CLOCK ON THE courthouse chimed eleven. He sat in the chilled cab and stared out the front window until the glass fogged with steam. Though late, he had one more thing to do before going back to his father’s ranch.

The yellow headlights shone on the brick paved streets, and a few blocks later, they lit the way down the gravel road. A lone cedar marked the small cemetery he last visited for his mother’s funeral.

With trembling fingers, he shut off the motor and made his way in the faint moonlight to the family headstones. Synthetic poinsettias decorated each, and Gil wondered if his dad had brought them, or someone else. He knelt down and pulled the faded flowers from the moist ground.

“I’ll bring you fresh ones next time, Mama.”

Gil fingered the inscription on the cold marble stone
. Emily Jean McCray, loving wife and mother
.

“I’m sorry for worrying you all those years ago and causing you grief, Mama. I wish I’d been a better son.” His voice sounded foreign in the crisp night air as he stared up and watched a shooting star trail its way across the atmosphere. He edged closer to his brother’s grave.

“Why did you have to go and die, Frank?” He picked up a clump of dirt and threw it into the dark, heard it hit against the dead grass. “We could have gone on in rodeo; you might have married Jenna. I could have stayed home to take care of Mama.”

Gil gripped the edge of the headstone until his fingers tingled from the pressure. A sob escaped his mouth. Frank had always been good at everything he did — his father’s pride and joy. Gil figured that was the reason for his own secret fascination with Jenna. But he never wished his brother dead.

Jenna
. He compared Doc Evans to her sister, but the resemblances seemed few. Jenna was tall, with dark hair and an unpredictable hunger for mischief that matched Frank’s. Gil thought back to that reckless summer night when his life had turned into one big ball of barbed wire.

A huge, tangled mess.

An owl screeched high overhead, and at the shrill sound Gil lived the nightmare once again . . .

He and Jenna had been skinny-dipping out by Coover’s Bridge less than a mile from the highway when they’d heard the first siren. Gil ignored the intrusion and reached out for Jenna, more interested in holding her glistening curves close to his body. The moon shone down on them, and her creamy skin glowed next to his.

“How come you stayed with me tonight, ’stead of going with Frank?” Gil rested his hand on her cheek and kissed her neck, tasting the muddy creek water on his lips.

Jenna’s laughter rose to the top of the cottonwoods. “Frank’s such a bore. A midnight swim sounded more fun than sitting around with a bunch of guys drinking beer and talking about rodeo. Besides, I’ve seen the way you look at me.”

The girl played with fire, but she had no idea how hot the coals burned. He picked Jenna up and twirled her in the waist-high water, the celebration in his heart bittersweet. He’d betrayed Frank by making love to this girl, and nothing would ever be the same again.

Not ready to give in to his conscience, he kissed Jenna hard on the mouth, and they both fell into the water. In a fit of laughter, they splashed each other until two more sirens interrupted their fun. Curiosity aroused, they grabbed their clothes on the bank and hopped into Gil’s half-ton to follow the flashing red lights to the site of the accident.

A beat-up Chevy truck lay overturned in the ditch. Gil recognized the vehicle at once, and he and Jenna raced down the steep hill, their clothes clinging to their wet skin. The passenger had received a fatal blow against the windshield, and paramedics worked to pull the teenage boy from the crushed cab. The driver, thrown from his window, lay covered on the ground.

Drawn by pure terror, Gil tore the white sheet from the body and nearly retched. The lifeless form of his brother lay bloodied and mangled on the ground. Tears streamed down his face as he fell to his knees. Gil held Frank’s limp frame close to his chest and willed himself to feel the warmth of life in his veins, the beat of his heart, which failed to oblige. Unable to believe his brother dead, Gil rocked him in his arms and called out Frank’s name in the dark night . . .

Haunted by the memories, Gil swayed back and forth on the cold cemetery ground.

Again, he heard the owl’s shriek. He’d been wrong to come here. The pain was still too great. Grief left him numb, yet the torment of what he’d done to his brother gnawed at his stomach until he wanted to cry out from guilt.

Christian or not, could there really be forgiveness for such a crime?

With doubt hounding him, he lumbered to the truck and followed the winding road to his father’s home.

As the miles crept by, Gil thought about the kids who’d hit his horse two nights ago. He’d heard the driver had been intoxicated and that the other boy had died. The notion to visit the teenager who’d lived through the accident weighed on his shoulders, and he resolved to go to the hospital the next day. Barely able to keep his eyes open, he arrived at the ranch too tired to find his way into the dark house. Instead, he stretched out on the seat of the truck and slept.

The next morning as the sun shone down on Gil’s face, the passenger door screeched open, followed by a low whistle.

“Whoo-wee, I ain’t seen nobody do this for a long time. You okay there, Son?” Jake asked.

Gil lifted his head, his shoulders pinched from lying in such an awkward position, his toes and fingers nearly frozen. “I didn’t want to wake the old man last night.”

Jake nodded thoughtfully. “He’s gettin’ older. Probably wise to let go of hard feelings. Start afresh.”

Not up to a lecture, Gil cocked an eyebrow and rubbed his neck. “Does Mildred still make breakfast for you? I’m so hungry, I could eat a horse.”

The ranch hand chuckled. “I’m headed that way now. Tuesday mornings she makes biscuits and sausage gravy. ’Course it’s turkey sausage, but it beats cold cereal.”

Gil rolled out of the side of the truck and walked with Jake to the house. “Thanks again for letting me borrow your wheels last night.”

“Use it any time you want. I’m glad to have you home.” Jake patted him on the shoulders. They entered the kitchen through the back, and the screen door slammed behind them.

Mildred turned from the stove, her hands on her hips. “I wondered where you were. I made your bed up last night. Noticed you didn’t sleep in it.”

“He dozed in the truck,” Jake intercepted, “but I reckon he’s paying the price for it now.” The old cowhand sat at a wooden table and picked up his silverware.

Mildred set a plate of steaming biscuits beside a bowl of creamy white gravy that smelled like heaven. Gil said a quick prayer, then reached for one of the tender, golden tops.

“It’s good to see you pray before a meal.” Mildred handed him a dish of fried sausage links. “Your mama always said grace, but that seems a long time ago.”

Gil studied the blue patterned bowl and recognized the piece from his mother’s collection. She always insisted using the china dishes she’d called Blue Willow
,
even though they might get chipped or broken with daily use. Odd how certain things stood out in his memory.

“It’s been a while since I served you breakfast.” Mildred grabbed a jar of jelly from the refrigerator and joined them at the table.

“Too long.” Gil looked toward the hallway and wondered when his father would appear. “Shouldn’t Dad be up by now? I never knew him to lie in bed past sunup.”

“Things are different since his attack.”

That was an understatement. Gil had never known his father to take an afternoon nap, nor could he imagine him relying on a cane to walk. A moment of sadness swept over him at the toll the years had taken on his father and how much Gil had missed. He set his jaw and forced himself not to dwell on events he couldn’t change. “How’s the ranch, Jake? If you don’t mind my saying, things look a bit rough around here.”

Jake sliced into a biscuit, and Gil watched the steam rise above the knife. “The place is a little worn down, but not so much that it can’t be repaired.”

“Who’s going to do the work? Dad’s not up to it, and you’re too old to manage by yourself.”

The grizzled cowboy shook his head. “Your dad’s seen harder times than this. He’ll have things in order soon enough. Nobody wants that more than him.” Jake took a bite that left a smudge of gravy at the side of his mouth. “What about you? If you have a mind to stay awhile, maybe you could help get the ranch on its feet?”

Gil ducked his head, plagued by all the reasons to stay, yet spurred by his inner desire to flee. “I need to head back to the city later this week to take care of some business.”

“Business, huh?” Jake’s disappointment was evident. “Well, until then, it’s gonna be nice having you around. Ain’t it, Mildred?” He went back to his breakfast, smiling like a little kid. “Whoo-wee, just like old times.”

“What’s all the commotion about?” John McCray lumbered into the room with his cane, his eyes fastened on Gil. “I figured you’d be gone by now.”

“I’ll be out of your hair in a few days.” Gil noticed the deepening crease in his father’s brow and wondered how he would manage his dad’s company for that amount of time.

“I’m surprised you’re staying so long — surprised those football folks of yours ain’t called you back already.”

Gil tried not to let the spiteful words anger him, and he tried not to think about football. How would he handle retirement? No morning meetings with the guys, no afternoon practice, no game plans to study. From now on, everything would be different.

He smeared cherry jam on one of the biscuits and smiled at Mildred’s cooking, sure it could take his mind off his problems. She was the one woman who might come close to his mama in the kitchen. “Did you make this jam yourself, Mildred?” He bit into the warm bread and savored the tart flavor.

“That’s some of the preserves Mattie gave us this fall. She’s a good cook, that girl.”

Gil’s brow puckered as he took another bite from the biscuit. He thought of the red-haired doctor and then of his horse. Baffled by how good the jam tasted, he shoved the last morsel into his mouth. “I planned to drop in and see how Dusty’s doing this morning. Mind if I take Dr. Evans a few of your tasty biscuits?”

Mildred smiled at the compliment and nodded. “She probably didn’t bother to eat before work this morning. All skin-and-bones, she is.”

From what Gil had seen of the Diamond Fall’s veterinarian, he was inclined to agree. He wrapped two biscuits in a paper napkin, then rubbed the stubble on his chin. Maybe he should freshen up a bit first.

“I don’t know what to think about your busy schedule,” his father said. “Never any time to sit and talk.”

“We’ll have plenty of time for that later.” Gil hoped he and his dad could be civil long enough to have that visit, but not now. “Jake, can I borrow your truck again?”

The old cowboy got up from the table and placed his hat on his head. “I’ve got heifers to check, so I won’t need it.”

“I appreciate the favor.”

“You could borrow my truck,” his dad said. “Or your mama’s car is parked in the garage.”

“My luck, I’d put a dent in one of them, and you’d cuss me up one side and down the other.” Gil chuckled, only half-teasing. “Jake doesn’t have to worry, ’cause he’d never know a new dent from an old one.”

Jake grinned broadly. “Whoo-wee, I do believe our boy’s home.”

NINE

MATTIE STEPPED OUT INTO THE MORNING SUNSHINE AND HER COFFEE steamed in the cool air. In another month, it would be calving and foaling season. Business was bound to pick up. When she entered the barn, she found the chestnut gelding sitting up. A good sign. Nearly forty-eight hours had passed since Dusty’s surgery, and his body was responding well to treatment. She knelt beside him and slid her palm against his neck.

“Hey, Dusty. How are you doing this morning?” She eased her hand down his chest and right leg, pleased the swelling had lessened. “Let’s see if you’re ready to stand.” With a slight tap to his backside, she gave him a gentle push, urging him to his feet. The horse didn’t budge.

“Haven’t I seen this before?”

Mattie recognized the man’s voice instantly and rose from her knees. “Are you going to stand there and gawk or are you going to help?” she asked, unable to keep the smile from her face.

“I’m here to serve.” Gil laid a sack beside her coffee on the wooden bench, then stood beside Dusty and nudged the horse’s side as he’d done the night before. “I don’t know what you’re going to do when I’m not here, Doc.”

“I can always steal one of the posters they display of you in town. That ought to do the trick.” She wanted to cheer when the horse wobbled up on all fours.

Gil chuckled. “What do you have against football players, anyway?”

“I don’t have anything against big, bulky men who strut around in skintight pants.” She grinned teasingly. “Rodeo’s a whole lot easier to understand.”

“Did you rodeo?”

“Barrels and poles. Tied some goats,” Mattie said. “I understand you had a future in rodeo. Why’d you quit?”

Gil looked away. “Football offered me a better deal.”

“Do you miss it?”

“I’ve participated in a few charity ropings. It’s a good way to raise money for kids who need it.”

Mattie knelt to examine Dusty’s front hooves, surprised Gil would be involved in charity work. “What else do you do when you’re not playing football? Television commercials? Let’s see, maybe prance around in men’s underwear or sell deodorant?” She glanced up to see if this embarrassed him.

“I never prance. I own investments and sponsor a foundation.” He slid his hands into his jean pockets, then smiled. “I once did a milk commercial, but I take it you’ve never seen it?”

Feeling the warmth of her own embarrassment, she turned her attention to the horse. “I don’t watch much television.”

“And when you do, Sunday Night Football isn’t on your list of priorities, right?”

“Smart guy.” She rose and went to the other side of the horse to distance herself from this imposing man who made her feel like a Shetland pony next to a Percheron stallion. “What brings you here this morning, anyway?”

“I brought you some of Mildred’s biscuits. I figured after the cold hamburger last night, you might enjoy a warm snack.”

Mattie smiled at the gesture. “All I’ve had is strong coffee.” She put a rope around Dusty’s neck, and the thought of the freshly baked biscuits made her stomach growl.

“If you want, I’ll heat them in your microwave.”

“That won’t be necessary.” She’d eat the food cold before she’d allow this man to see the dirty dishes on her kitchen counter and clothes lying in a heap on the floor. “Dusty’s swelling has gone down some. The more he moves, the less stiffness he’ll have.”

“Should I try to walk him while you eat?”

“Some sunshine on his back would be good.”

While Gil managed to lead Dusty out of the barn, Mattie washed up, then settled on a bench to watch. She took her first bite, savoring the buttery flavor as well as the morning sunshine.

“Tell me, Doc. What makes a young woman like you want to stay in a rinky-dink place like this? You’d have more business if you lived in a city.”

Her eyes trailed Gil and his horse. He sounded like her parents. They were always notifying her about vet positions in Kansas City. Thought she’d make more friends and marry if she lived in the city. “I’ve never had any desire to leave these hills.”

“You don’t crave big malls or supermarkets? Theatres or nice restaurants? Don’t you get lonely for people your own age?” Gil stopped to rest Dusty, who nosed a clump of fescue but didn’t eat.

“I have lots of friends. And if I want to shop, all I have to do is hop in my truck and drive forty miles to Emporia.”

“I grew up here, remember . . . I know the population per square mile, and most of the people are over fifty.”

Mattie stopped chewing. “By people, I assume you mean single men. What makes you think I wouldn’t be interested in someone older? Like your father, for example.” Her eyebrows rose as she waited for his response.

The register of shock made her want to laugh. “Did you think your dad and I were an item?” His sheepish expression told her the answer before he opened his mouth.

“I had my suspicions.”

“I thought so.” Mattie lowered her head, and a wispy curl fell in her face. She couldn’t deny that she longed for romance. But pursue a man more than twice her age? She didn’t think so. John McCray was like a father to her, not a beau.

Although he did own a respectable portion of the Flint Hills . . .

She bit into the flaky biscuit as though biting into a dream. The McCray property was a worthy investment. Established acreage with a house and outbuildings. Though the thought had its advantages, marrying a gentleman for his land was out of the question. “If God wants me to remain single, that’s what I’ll do.”

Gil squatted and pulled a few slivers of grass from the ground. He placed them against Dusty’s muzzle. “You’d be content with that?”

Mattie tore at the biscuit. “I have my work. Freedom to come and go as I please.”
And my honor.

Gil looked at Dusty, and the horse nickered, his ears twitching back and forth. “You make a good point. Who needs relationships when you have all this?” He extended his arms to the open prairie at the edge of town.

Mattie agreed. She might not own a ranch, but she had one of the better views of the Flint Hills right here from her clinic property. “What about you? Have you ever married?”

The man sobered. “I never let a woman interfere with the game. I didn’t care to have the distraction.”

“Even off-season? I find it hard to believe a man like you wouldn’t want someone to come home to, little feet to pad the halls of your three-story mansion.” Mattie looked away, hating her jealous heart. She thought of her sisters with their suburban homes. Even her best friend, Clara, still had her children to hug at night, despite a painful divorce.

This is the life you’ve given me, Lord. Help me be content.

Gil stood and tossed the grass to the ground. “I live in a two-bedroom townhouse near the Bay, but I’ve considered buying a ranch in Sonoma County to raise horses on — not children.” His mouth curved into a twisted grin. “California isn’t so bad once you get out of the city.”

“Why not move back here and take over your dad’s ranch?”

“I don’t think so.”

Her stomach tightened. How could Gil not take advantage of the opportunity? She’d have done somersaults to go into ranching with her dad — if she’d had the chance. Only a fool would give that up without a fight.

“Like I said before, you don’t know how it is between me and the old man.” He led Dusty to a bucket of water and waited. The horse sniffed at the plastic container.

You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him drink. She figured it must be the same with men. But for the life of her, she couldn’t understand it.