WINTER OF `93
by
Dorman Nelson (copyright 1997 All Rights Reserved)
There was a time when he'd just ride up and say hello.
She would flash a nice, but shy smile and welcome his company.
Now the old cabin was empty and winter's fingers had frosted
even the inside of the once cheery room.
He reined up on a knoll above the bench of land where
the log fence ended in a scattering of timbers. He thought about
her. Wondered what she and her children would be doing this
cold, cloudy day. He got off his horse, squatted there holding
the reins, just letting his mind wander.
He thought about the day he took her and the three
younguns to see all the prairie animals. The little girl took a
tumble and cut her head. She was a brave one. There was a bit of
blood, but she took it good and just wanted to see more animals.
Antelope just don't stay around when you yell out like she did.
The bleedin' stopped and a lump swelled a mite but she was just
fine and dandy. The youngest.
There was another day that he took them to the ranch
where he worked. Showed them the horses and them big dogs and
all. They weren't used to much other'n chickens. How she and
those little folk came to living alone out there like they did
sure was a puzzle. He scratched his chin. Ha! Used to shave
before he went over. Didn't this time. He knew she was gone. The
light in the windows been dead a couple of weeks. He missed the
sound of the kids playing. And the boys asking him about hunting
and tracking and the work that he did.
He looked down the swell of the field to the house. He
stood and stretched. It was lonely listening to the wind. He had
always looked forward to talking to her, sharing his stories and
pulling a joke or two out of his hat. She thought it funny to
decorate a picture of snow-decked trees cutting little circles
and stars out of the red paper he'd purchased at the
merchantile. He thought it was pretty swell. He had lots of
other things that he had learned in his life that he wanted to
share, to show, to give.
It didn't matter to him that she had three children or
that she might be poor in the ways of the material world. What
mattered was her outlook at life and her care of her kids and
the friendship she had in her eyes when he saw her. That she
thanked him for the things that he shared and didn't take him or
his attempt at gifts for granted. He figured she was just a good
human being.
Sometimes he'd snake some firewood over or bring a
chunk of beef, even showed her a sandwich that he had tried in
town that he thought they would all like. It was made from some
kind of buttery sticky stuff that grew on a bush in the shape of
a nut. Pea-nut he thought the merchant had said. Anyhow the kids
sure liked it and clamored for more.
He loved to watch those little ones. Always on the
move, up to mischief and always curious. They'd watch him when
they thought he wasn't looking and he'd turn and wink and they
would look away and giggle. They were good kids.
No matter how cold this winter was rain, sleet, wind,
or whatever, he still swung by the house even if it was out of
his way while moving cattle or checking fence line or breaking
ice for the livestock to drink the snow.
He kicked at the snow. It was cold this morning. It
had snowed good a couple of days ago, but the wind had blown all
around so there was traces of brown grass here and there. He
fought the urge to go down to the cabin and start a fire. It
wasn't his place. He'd go if invited, thankful for the heat, but
she wasn't there. Just didn't seem right.
He got back up on the horse. Whew! Coldern heck out
here. The saddle almost cried out along with his frozen
backside. Well....he had to be breaking ice he figured. He had a
couple of miles to go. What a chore to be doing on a winter's
day. He decided to ride down by the house. Just for old times'
sake, he thought.
He remembered a summer when he was younger and full of
buckshot and vinegar, ready to slay the dragons of the world and
thought there was no bronc he couldn't tame and no man he'd be
a'scared of. One of the older fellers at the fire one night was
talking about his true love.
"I 'member it was a hot summer that year. The cattle
were all a'driftin' in the coulees and thick brush. It was
hottern a sourdough biscuit on a griddle. I just came down off
the side of the mountain and saw her there. She was out hanging
clothes on a line by a shack nestled in some trees close to the
edge of the flat land. Pretty near noon it was. She had dark
hair that shown like gold in that sunlight. I never could figger
that. She looked like an angel there. She had a cotton dress
that moved with the wind and the shadows of her form showed
through ever now and then as the material swirled back and
forth. I fell in love right there and then."
The fire crackled some and the old-timer just sat
there. We were all waitin' for him to finish the story. Finally
after what seemed like an eternity one of the others spoke up.
"Wahl, what happened, Bill? Ya just gonna sit there
and leave us pantin' in th' dirt? Did ya talk to her? Did ya
tell her how ya felt?"
The fire crackled some more. We wuz gettin' some
fidgitin'. Bill finally spoke.
"She had the finest tanned arms. Her face had a swoosh
of freckles across it prettier than the finest night stars and
her dark eyes an honesty that would make Saint Peter blush. She
was all the woman this man would ever want."
"Wahl, fer Pete's sake, Bill, what' she say?"
Bill just looked around at the fire-flickered faces,
clenched his jaws a couple of times, swallowed and continued.
"I reined around and went after some more strays."
"Wahl, Bill, did ya go back and see her?"
"Nope."
"Why not? If ya loved her you'd go back and see her!"
"Nope. I figured that was the best love would ever be.
And I still love her the same today as I did then."
An icy wind schwooshed past and he drew his coat
tighter. He was at the house. Funny, he hadn't thought of that
story for years. He pulled up his horse. He stared at the house.
He wanted to put giant coins over the two windows. Everything
looked so gray and foreboding. Except for, what was that?
He was off his horse and crunched through the small
drift in front of the door. There was an envelope on the edge of
the door frame. It was nailed on. He gently took it off and
opened it. It read:
Daryl,
You are a good person. I will always remember you and
you will always have a place in my heart.
Best wishes,
Mary
He was suddenly filled with warmth. He threw his hat
up in the air, startled his horse. He ran out and grabbed the
reins,
"Whoa, boy!"
He walked over, leading his horse and picked up his
hat. He mounted, turned and looked once more at the house,
unbuttoned his coat, then rode off stuffing his treasured
present in his shirt pocket. He had a smile on his face, happy
that it was summer and he was riding through a field of flowers.
His cares seemed far away.
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