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A few minutes after the young man punched the door bell, the ornately carved door opened slowly, revealing the tired thin face of an older woman. The face broke almost immediately into a smile.
"Lee! Lee Stetson! What are you doing here?"
The young man found himself on the receiving end of an enthusiastic embrace. "I wasn't sure you'd recognize me, Grandma," he said when she finally let go.
She took a moment to study him from the top of the rich brown hair nearly touching his shoulders, past the "Stop War Now" T-shirt and the frayed and filthy jeans, all the way down to his worn leather sandals.
She pursed her lips. "Yup, I reckon' it's you." The serious look gave way to another warm smile. "Under the dirt layer, I believe you might look just like your father. Now get on in here this minute."
He stooped to retrieve the army surplus backpack that lay at his feet before following the woman into the ranch house.
It felt good to be here. This simple ranch house felt like home, even though his memories came from only a few summertime visits, the last now long ago. He remembered Grandma Michaels as being very old, white-haired and gaunt. He saw now she was perhaps in her late sixties, and very much alive and active.
"This place never changes," he mused out loud as they walked into the large living room.
"I never did like to change things once I got them the way I liked them," Grandma Michaels stated matter-of-factly. "You staying long?"
Lee shrugged. "I was hoping you'd let me stay two weeks. I'm having my mail forwarded here."
He watched the woman's eyes screw up thoughtfully. "What about school, Lee? The Colonel wrote you were at Stanford."
"I'm on a...break...sorta."
"Um-hum."
He flinched under the iron gaze. "Okay, I got kicked out. It was my fault, I guess. But I've got some feelers out and I should be able to start something else next semester." He tried to sound more hopeful than he felt. He ran a hand nervously through his long, stringy hair. Hell, he felt terrible.
Grandma Michaels shook her head slowly. "Somehow I knew you weren't doing well. Figured we'd a-heard by now, though." She slipped a consoling arm around his waist and gave him a squeeze. "You know this is your home, no matter what. Your Uncle Jake and I are in perfect agreement on that point. So, you stay as long as you want. I know what kind of boy you are, Lee. It doesn't matter to me how many schools you go to - but you finish your education. Promise?"
"I promise, Grandma."
"You can have your old bed in the bunkhouse."
"Thanks."
He started to leave, but the woman stopped him.
"Dinner's at seven. Jake broke the triangle last winter, so don't wait to hear that."
"He broke the triangle?"
"It's a long story."
Lee thought he heard a soft giggle from the stairway. He whirled with an uncanny feeling of deja vu, but there was no one there.
"What's the matter, Lee?"
What was he doing? This wasn't eleven years ago. There were no little boys to greet him on the landing these days. His cousins were scattered across the country, either going to school or just starting their careers. He wasn't sure. He hadn't kept close track of anyone for the last year. "Nothing, Grandma," he answered. "I just thought I heard a noise. Must be getting jumpy."
She smiled. "Remember how you boys used to sit up there on the landing? My, it seems like yesterday."
"Yeah, I was just remembering."
"Skip gave you a bloody nose that year..."
"Not on purpose," Lee blurted quickly in his cousin's defense. They both looked at each other and laughed. "Listen to me," Lee apologized, "I'm still defending him after all these years."
Grandma Michaels didn't answer, but nodded as if to say, 'that's the way it should be'. There was an awkward silence.
"Well," Lee said at length. "Let me go get cleaned up and maybe I can help you with a few chores."
"Fine, Lee." The woman shuffled off towards the ranch's great kitchen. "You'll know where to find me."
He hadn't forgotten. Grandma Michaels wasn't one to sit idly by. She would be wherever there was work to be done, usually in the kitchen, or out feeding the chickens, or even supervising the care of the horses. He was sure, even as he turned to make his way to the bunkhouse, that if he looked for it, he'd find a quilt frame set up somewhere in the house. If not for one of the new great-grandbabies, then it would be there for a friend of the family.
He smiled, lost in his own thoughts, then stopped in his tracks. He thought he saw a blond head duck behind the railing up the stairs. Damn. He was tired and his imagination was playing tricks on him again. "I must be seeing things," he muttered as he swung the heavy backpack across his shoulders and marched out the door.
The bunkhouse was scrupulously clean, as he remembered it. He found his old bed and sat down on it gingerly. The coils creaked with his weight.
"That's my bunk, Mister."
For a confused second, Lee thought he was seeing his cousin Andy Travis, just as he'd appeared eleven summers ago. The cowboy hat sat at just the right angle, and the play gun was cocked, business-like, in the child's hand. The figure stood framed by the doorway, haloed by the bright New Mexico sunlight.
"Andy?" he breathed. He knew it wasn't Andy, yet he was carried away by the illusion. The boy took another step forward, and Lee could see clearly the blond hair was far paler than Andy's had ever been and the profile, though similar, was not quite so pronounced.
"Up with your hands, stranger," the boy threatened, "or I'll shoot."
"Yeah, yeah, don't shoot. I'm Lee," Lee replied, throwing his hands into the air in mock surrender. "You live around here?"
"Not around here, here," the kid said. "And that's my bunk, stranger."
Lee put his hands down and stood slowly, still surprised by the encounter, which seemed right out of his own childhood. "Sure, no problem," he muttered.
The play gun found its way back into the plastic holster.
"You a drifter?"
There was a beat as Lee moved across to the next bunk and dropped his things on it. "Nope. A relative," he replied. He turned to the boy curiously and smiled. "You a drifter, Pard?"
The boy finally smiled shyly. "Naw. I'm Scott, this is my Gramp's place."
"Your Gran...?" Lee stared for a moment, trying to place the little towhead in the proper family niche. All the cousins he knew of were his own age.
"Yeah, me an' Mom are here for a vacation...I guess," the boy volunteered humorlessly.
"All alone?" Lee thought back to the summers he remembered. Besides himself, there had been three other boys - cousins - his age to play with. The noise level had been incredible. He found it hard to imagine bunking alone.
"Nope." Scott regarded Lee thoughtfully, then whistled low. A small brown mutt bounded in through the door. Scott pushed the cowboy hat farther back on his forehead. "I've got Mr. Peabody."
"Hiya, Peabody," Lee ventured, but the mutt placed himself between the boy and Lee's proffered hand and growled.
"Okay, Peabody," Scott said, patting the furry head. "It's okay, he's a relative."
The dog stopped growling, but sat, quiet and alert, watching Lee's every move.
Lee dumped the contents of his backpack onto the new bunk. He felt a twinge of sadness at being forced out of his old bed. It was, after all, traditional. He pushed the thought away and smiled at his little relative. "Well, I've got to get cleaned up, Pardner."
The boy nodded. "Are you a hippie?" he asked suddenly.
Lee bristled for a moment, then forced himself to relax, brushing his long hair self-consciously out of his eyes. "No," he countered, "I'm just expressing my individuality."
"Oh, you're in college," the boy answered, knowingly.
"Yeah."
Once in the shower, Lee's thoughts turned to Scott. If Grandma Michaels was also Scott's grandmother it would make him a cousin. Try as he might, Lee couldn't recall who, of all his aunts and uncles, Scott belonged to.
The boy and his mutt were gone when Lee emerged, clean and newly shaven from the bunkhouse bathroom. He caught his own reflection in the window as he walked by. He looked too thin these days, and maybe the hair was getting a little long. She hadn't said a word, Lee thought happily. Grandma Michaels had class.
He slipped on his clothes quickly. Thankfully, his only change of jeans was clean. He buttoned the long sleeves of the blue work shirt as he ran out the door. Once the sun went down it would be cold, despite the heat of the day.
He found her in the kitchen, busily peeling vegetables.
"Can I help, Grandma?" he offered. He pulled up a chair in front of the large trestle table next to her.
"Sure can, I'll get you another peeler." She disappeared behind him for a few moments then appeared with a peeler and a small knife. "Go to it."
Lee surveyed the pile of potatoes in front of him and sighed. "The place is deserted, who are all these for?"
"I'm making some extra stew for the Clarks down the road since Martha's been sick. The rest is for us."
"Um." Lee began to peel his first potato. "I think I just met 'one of us' in the bunkhouse. About four feet tall, answers to Scott?"
"That's Kay's boy. They're staying here for a while." Lee noted the sadness in her voice.
"Your Uncle Jake and Aunt Cassie took Kay to Albuquerque today. They'll be back later this evening."
"Seems they would have taken Scott with them," Lee said, glad he finally had been able to place Scott in the family tree. Kay was his cousin, so Uncle Jake and Aunt Cassie would be Scott's grandparents. It all made sense now. The ranch actually belonged to Uncle Jake, Lee remembered.
Grandma Michaels shook her head sadly. "I think they were going to see a lawyer friend of Jakes."
"Oh." Lee felt his curiosity rise. "Trouble?"
"Kay and Robert may be getting a divorce."
Lee nearly dropped his potato peeler. "The McCall's?" he blurted in surprise.
His grandmother nodded. "Robert's somewhere in South America right now. I think Kay just wants to know where she stands, legally."
"McCall wouldn't just up and leave his family." Lee stated incredulously. The Robert McCall he remembered was kind and family-minded. A big man, fair and loving. At least, he had seemed that way to an ten-year-old in trouble.
"Oh, I don't pry," the woman said. "I think it's his work. It takes him all over the world. But Kay's a sensitive sort, and they just lost little Kathleen. It's all taken its toll."
"Sounds serious. Must be hard on the kid." It was all Lee could think to say. His head was still reeling from the news. He hardly knew his cousin Kay, but he had loved McCall with the intense adoration of a fatherless and affection-starved child.
"It's always hardest on the children," she stated with vehemence. "It's the worst thing I know. Used to be we didn't know what divorce was..." Her voice drifted off, and she sat silently peeling, lost in her thoughts.
Lee sighed. He remembered the summer his cousin Murphy's mother had left her husband and two sons. It had devastated the three of them. It had even made Lee thankful his parents had died before the same fate had befallen them.
They spoke little more as they finished the peeling and set the kettles on the stove. The light was starting to fade as the stew began to cook.
At his Grandmother's insistence, Lee made the rounds, checking to be sure the animals were secure and the out buildings were locked for the night. It was dark by the time he entered the ranch house again.
"Could you do me a favor and run the stew up to the Clarks?" the woman asked as he appeared in the kitchen. Dinner will be waiting for you when you get back, it's just a few minutes up the road."
"Sure." He took the stew and the brief directions with stoicism, even though his stomach was rumbling from hunger.
"You can use the pickup," she added, handing him the keys.
"No problem."
Lee made his way to the truck in silence, mentally calculating how fast he could make it to the Clarks and back and still live. The road was narrow and winding from what he remembered of it this afternoon.
He was nearly ready to jam the gears into reverse and back the old heap out of the narrow confines of the shed it was parked in, when a blond head appeared at his elbow.
"Can me 'n Mr. Peabody come along?" It was Scott, seemingly out of nowhere.
"Sure, hop in," Lee replied. He waited until the boy ran around to the passenger side and squirmed into the seat on the other side of the large stew pot before he set the truck in motion. "Hang on to the pot."
The boy obeyed, hugging the thick towels Grandma Michaels had festooned around the vessel for insulation.
The first few stars of the evening were already visible as they pulled onto the main road. The three rode in silence, Mr. Peabody sniffing the pot at first, then sitting half-way on top of the boy with his head out the window.
"Where we goin'?" Scott asked.
"Just down to the Clarks," Lee answered. "D'ya know where that is?"
"Down there," he pointed.
"Thanks," Lee gratefully acknowledged. In the darkness, he would have missed the turnoff without help.
The Clarks place was only a few feet down the little road, and Lee swung the pickup expertly around in the gravel in front of the house and pulled to a stop. "Everybody out."
The door opened before they were out of the truck. In the patch of warm yellow light there appeared a small, thin man. He walked briskly to meet them.
"You must be the Michael's Grandson, Lee," the man said before Lee had a chance to drag the stew pot out of the front seat. Scott and the mutt stood silently watching. "Your Granny just called."
"Yup, brought some dinner," Lee said with a smile.
"Well, I shore appreciate it," the man said, taking over the pot. He looked down at Scott. "You tell your Grandma I appreciate it. Martha's been bad sick for the past week."
"Glad to oblige, Sir." Lee said quickly.
"Yeah," Scott mumbled.
They piled back into the truck and made for the road again. "I don't know about you, but I'm starved," Lee announced.
"Yeah," Scott said.
Lee glanced at the boy. He was staring straight ahead, with the dog in his lap. "You okay?" Lee asked.
"Yeah."
The truck was soon back in the shed. Lee slipped out and waited for the boy and his mutt to follow suit. "I want to thank you for helping," he said sincerely. "I would have gotten lost without you."
Scott merely nodded and shuffled back towards the house. To Lee he seemed tired. Grandma Michaels met them in the doorway.
"I just got a call from Jake. The car threw a rod just as they were leaving. They'll have to stay overnight in Albuquerque and see what arrangements they can make in the morning. So it'll just be the three of us for dinner."
Lee thought he saw a look akin to fear flit across the boy's face. "That's too bad," he voiced. "Is everyone alright?"
"Yes, they just avoided having an accident. I'm so glad they called, I expected them an hour ago."
"Well, we won't worry about them, then," Lee said. "Let's wash up for dinner."
Lee put a hand on the youngster's shoulder and guided him into the house, supervising a thorough hand washing prior to dinner. He smiled inwardly, thinking how not too long ago he had been the child forced to clean up, unwillingly, before dinner. He felt suddenly very old and fatherly. It was a strange feeling.
Dinner was superb. Lee wolfed the savory stew hungrily. He also managed to put away nearly a dozen of the flaky biscuits that came hot from the oven, like magic, as the meal progressed.
"This is the best meal I've had in ages," he announced truthfully. "You sure can cook, Grandma." He looked over at Scott, who sat across from him at the table. The boy was picking disinterestedly at his meager portion.
"Thank you, Lee. It's always a pleasure to cook for a hungry man or two." She looked over at Scott with concern. "No pie unless you finish what you've got on your plate, Scott."
"Pie?" Lee asked with interest.
"I put up some apple pies this morning. It's the first of the apples off that old tree out front. They're usually better a little later in the season, but your Uncle Jake gets so impatient."
"Good for Uncle Jake," Lee volunteered. "Don't you agree, Pardner?"
Scott looked up from his untouched meal. "May I be excused?" he asked politely.
"Why, of course, sweetheart. Just don't roam too far. It's late." Grandma Michaels gave him a searching look. "Are you feeling well?"
"Yes, Ma'am," the boy said impatiently, disappearing through the doorway.
"I worry about that boy, he's too quiet," Grandma Michaels observed to Lee as Scott left the room. Presently, they could hear soft music from the stereo in the living room, Mozartian strings breaking the silence.
"He listens to that record night and day," the woman said quietly to Lee. "It belongs to his Dad."
Lee understood. "It sounds familiar, Grandma, what is it?"
"Eine Kleine Nacht Musikk," she responded. "Mozart. Never saw a child so engrossed in music all the time. Not like all you boys."
"Andy, maybe," Lee joked. Andy hadn't let go of his little transistor radio all summer long, Lee remembered.
"Even Andy wouldn't have been caught dead listening to Mozart."
Lee nodded in agreement as the thick wedge of home made apple pie was set down in front of him. Somehow he didn't enjoy it as much as he had anticipated. Maybe it was all the stew and biscuits he'd eaten; maybe it was the music and the little boy who sat alone with his dog in the next room.
"Do you mind if I take this into the living room?" Lee finally asked.
Grandma smiled knowingly. "Go ahead, but if you spill anything, you're the one who..."
"Who cleans it up," Lee finished with a smile. "I'll be careful. Thanks for dinner, Grandma."
A glass of milk in one hand, the plate of pie in the other, Lee entered the living room quietly. He placed the food on the coffee table before he inspected the great wingback chair by the stereo. Its sole occupant, one little tow headed boy, was asleep.
As Lee bent down and picked the boy up, the mutt, Mr. Peabody, appeared from underneath the chair. "Let's put Scott to bed, huh, Peabody?" Lee asked softly.
It took only a few moments to tuck the sleeping child into the bunk. He envied the totally limp, deep sleep of the innocent for a moment. He wondered when it was he had lost that same ability to sleep so profoundly. He left the boy with the dog at his feet and returned to the house.
The dinner dishes were finished and put away quickly. When the last of the supper mess had been cleaned away, Grandma Michaels excused herself. She had been up since four in the morning and was ready for bed. Lee, too, felt sleepy. The mountain air and the long trip during the day, hitchhiking across the desert, had left their imprint. He yawned repeatedly before he left the house and crossed the yard to the bunkhouse.
He slipped out of his clothes and between the sheets in the darkness, grateful for the extra blanket his grandmother had the foresight to provide. He listened to Scott's even breathing for a few moments before he, too, fell asleep.
The sound of crying awakened Lee just as the moon was setting. He sat up in bed, disoriented for a few moments in the opaque darkness.
"Scott?" he whispered.
There was no answer but the shuddering sobs of a child.
Lee found his jeans in the darkness and slipped them on, walking blindly across the room towards his old bunk.
"Scott?"
His hand reached something warm and wet. It was obviously Mr. Peabody. The dog
licked his hand and whimpered softly in response. It took Lee a few moments to realize the boy was still asleep.
"Scott?" he ventured again. He was sitting on the edge of the bunk now, trying to gently shake the child awake. It must be one heckuva dream, he thought.
Scott finally awoke with a start. "Daddy?" he hiccupped as he sensed the person next to him on the bunk. Before Lee could answer, he felt the boy's arms around him squeezing tightly. "I knew you'd come back."
"It's Lee, Scott. It's all right," Lee said, along with half a dozen other things he could think of. To his surprise, the little arms didn't release their hold, even after the boy must have realized his father was not there.
In a little while, the boy's grip relaxed, and he sat down on the bunk.
"Feel better?" Lee asked anxiously.
"Why does my daddy hate me?" It was a small voice. The bravado of the afternoon had left and what remained was only six years old and deeply hurt.
"Your dad loves you. I guarantee it," Lee found himself saying.
"How do you know?"
"I know. Trust me. Your Dad isn't like that."
"But he left on account of the window I broke."
"What?" Lee was bewildered. "What on earth makes you say that?"
"I broke the window and he said I had to pay for it and everything even after I told Mr. Huntley I was sorry and I really was only he left the next day and Mom said he didn't have time to say goodbye and she's been crying all the time afterwards." It all spilled out in one breath. Lee wished he could see better in the darkness.
"He had to go to South America, Scott, for his job. It didn't have anything to do with you."
"Yes, it did." Lee could hear the boy pound the pillow in frustration and hurt. "Mom said if he cared about us he wouldn't have left."
"Sometimes even moms say things they don't really mean," Lee ventured.
"My mom doesn't lie," Scott defended.
"Your mom is, uh, sad because your daddy had to go away for a while. She feels left out and a little angry." Heaven help me, Lee thought to himself, what do I know about kids? Grandma Michaels should be in here doing this. He took a deep breath.
"Scott, I need to tell you a story."
"A story?"
"Yeah, come're, pardner." Lee reached out and caught the boy into his arms once more. It was easier to talk when he could at least feel the kid close to him.
"You see," Lee began. "Once upon a time there were four cousins..."
The story came pouring out, generated by the memories so fresh in his mind from the morning's musings. The story of twelve summers ago; of four boys who stayed out too late on the nearby mountain and got lost on the trail coming home in the dark. All four boys had been punished and sent to bed without supper for their disobedience. They hadn't been in bed long before their solitude had been interrupted by one Robert McCall bearing sandwiches. The man had explained that their mothers were anxious about them, Lee recounted. "We didn't know if we should believe him or not."
"Did you get a lickin'?" Scott asked.
"I was the only one who didn't," Lee explained carefully. "I felt horrible about it, believe it or not, because I felt responsible for what happened."
"So what did my dad do?"
"He sat down and talked to me, Scott. I could tell he really understood how I felt. He made me feel loved." Lee gave the boy a squeeze. "It was right here at this bunk."
"Right here?"
"Right here." Lee paused, remembering. "Your dad made me feel real good that night. After that he even wrote to me a few times."
"He did?"
"Yup."
"What did he say?"
"He talked about a lot of things. He wrote about you being born. It's funny, but I had forgotten that until just this afternoon. He loves you, Scott. Believe me. He was so excited about you being born. It made me a little envious of you."
"You were jealous, huh?"
"Yes, I'll admit it." Lee laughed at the thought.
The room had lightened during their conversation. A pink glow visible through the windows heralded the impending dawn only a few hours away.
There was a long silence as Scott seemed to take in his cousin's words. Then:
"My Mom will feel better soon, won't she?"
"I don't know, Scott. Sometimes these things are hard to judge," Lee said. He wished he knew, though. He really wished he knew.
"Good," Scott murmured quietly. It seemed incredible to Lee, but the boy had calmed down so much he seemed to be going back to sleep. He smoothed down the pale hair of the head that lay against his chest and eased the boy back down to the pillow. "Good night, pardner." Lee whispered.
Grandma Michaels slipped out into the early morning light bearing her usual egg basket and her work gloves. As she paused by the bunkhouse, she couldn't resist the desire
to peek inside.
She started at first, seeing Lee's bed was empty. Lee was not an early riser, she
knew that from experience. At least, not if he didn't have to get up. Curious, she walked softly past the empty bed to where Scott had been sleeping.
There they lay, all three: one tousle-headed boy with arms wound round Lee, and the dog somehow on top of them both. All three were fast asleep.
She stood a while studying her little "cousins", her face filled with a quiet love for them both. Life hadn't been easy for Lee, that she knew well. Scott, well, Scott's problems were just starting, but she knew they wouldn't be any easier.
It made her glad to see them together like this. They both could use the attention, she thought, turning her back to them quickly and slipping out of the room into the sunlight. But there'd be some time for that in the next two weeks.