Montana Hearts - 3. Chapter 3 - Getting the Band Back Together!

-- Chapter Three --

Welcome to Montana. Big Sky Country.

The sign had come and gone in a heartbeat.

Carter shifted in his seat and watched it pass. On the Montana side of the sign it read Thank You for Visiting Montana! that he just managed to catch before the sign disappeared behind the trailer.

‘Well,’ Beth said. ‘I guess we're back.’

For a few moments nobody said much.

The RAM rolled north beneath an endless blue sky, the horse trailer humming steadily behind them. Beyond the windshield, the wide-open country stretched forever.

Montana.

After almost two days on the road, it hardly seemed real.

Carter sat forward in the rear seat. His boots were planted on the floor now instead of stretched across the cooler. He hadn't realized how restless he'd become.

The closer they got to home, the less he wanted to sit still.

The landscape looked different from Texas. Different to Colorado. Or even Wyoming. Bigger somehow. Not flatter. Not greener. Just bigger. The distances seemed impossible.

He hit the button on the door and lowered the window.

The country smelt different too. Miles of grassland spread beneath huge blue skies. They were heading to Big Sky country, but he figured they were already there. Scattered cattle grazed behind weathered fences. And to the west, the mountains were still there, standing tall and majestic. They were quite a sight. A sight that warmed his heart.

They had been teasing him for two states. But there was no teasing happening now. They were in his face. He could almost touch them.

Carter stared. ‘Do you see ‘em?’ he said, quietly, almost in awe.

Rip smiled. ‘Yep.’

The sight stirred something inside all three of them. You never really forgot mountain country once it got into your blood.

***

It had been well after noon when they had crossed the state line, and the next town they would come to would be Hardin, about sixty miles from the border.

The conversation turned increasingly toward the people waiting for them. Old friends. Old neighbours. Folks they hadn't seen in years.

Every town they passed brought another memory.

Hardin. Billings. Bozeman would be next. All places that still seemed familiar, even after all this time.

Rip found himself pointing things out before he realized he was doing it.

‘There used to be a cattle auction down that road.’

‘That ranch sold some of the best quarter horses in the state. I remember John buying their top priced mare at their sale one year. Damn thing died before he even got a chance to get a foal out of her.’

‘We got snowed in around here one winter.’

Beth laughed. Carter smiled. It was all history. And for each of them, they had their own history that came flooding back as the miles passed by.

Carter listened to every story. Some he'd heard before, but others were completely new. Every one helped paint a picture of the people he'd soon be seeing again.

‘Remember when Hank somehow rolled a four-wheeler into a stock pond?’

Beth laughed. ‘Somehow?’

‘He knows exactly how he did it.’

‘Of course he does.’

‘And what about Maddie?’ Carter asked.

‘What about her?’ Beth replied.

‘What's she like now?’

Rip snorted. ‘Thirteen. And if she’s anything like her grandfather, verging on trouble, I’d say.’

‘That's not an answer.’

‘It's the only answer you need.’

Beth simply shook her head. ‘Last time we saw her, she followed everybody around asking a thousand questions.’

‘So, she'll be asking five thousand now?’

‘Probably.’

Carter grinned. ‘Sounds about right.’

Hardin came up faster than any of them had realized it would. They had all still been deep in thought after passing the turnoff for the site of Little Big Horn memorial. It was a place of history that everyone felt, every time they would pass it.

When they reached the city sign, Beth slowed the rig down and put on an indicator when she spotted the first gas station and diner.

‘Not that one. That place has always served the worst coffee in Montana,’ Rip declared, as they approached a diner on the outskirts. ‘Try the one on the other side of town.’

Even Beth smiled. ‘You know you've officially become old when every spot along the road has a story attached,’ she suggested.

‘It was old twenty years ago,’ Rip replied.

‘You said it, darlin’, not me!’

Dutifully following orders, Beth switched off the indicator and kept driving through, before they soon came to another gas station and diner on the outskirts, where she slowed and pulled in.

After seven hours of driving, they all felt that it would be good to stretch their legs and top up again.

***

Soon they were back on the road, and as the day wore on, Carter became quieter.

Not unhappy, exactly. Not nervous. Just thoughtful.

South-east of Billings they finally started seeing country that truly felt familiar. It was the shape of the hills, the curve of the rivers cutting through cottonwoods. The distant ridges.

When they had left Montana. More than a year ago, he'd still been figuring out where he belonged.

Back then, everything had been uncertain. The future. The family. Himself.

Now he was coming back different.

He was older. More confident now. Part of something. And the realization caught him by surprise. He wasn't worried whether people would remember him. He was looking forward to seeing them.

What did worry him, however, was whether he would remember them. That was different. That mattered.

***

The final stretch seemed to take forever. They breezed through Billings, then Columbus, Big Timber, Livingston and Bozeman. There was no time for stops. Perhaps they would stop in at some of these places while they were here, or maybe on their way home.

From Bozeman, they were heading south-west, towards Big Sky. Every bend in the road felt familiar. Every ridge looked like the last one. And it all looked like home.

The horses shifted occasionally in the trailer.

Rip glanced at the dashboard clock. ‘About an hour to go,’ he remarked.

Carter groaned dramatically. ‘You said that an hour ago.’

‘No, I said two hours then.’

‘That's basically the same thing.’

Beth laughed.

‘After twenty hours of driving, an hour is nothing.’

‘It's everything.’

They drove on in silence, other than the gentle rattles from the truck and trailer, then finally, Rip pointed through the windshield.

‘There ya go.’

Carter looked up.

A familiar valley spread out ahead. Green pastures. Straight fence lines. Cottonwoods along a winding creek.

Ranches scattered across the landscape. And beyond it all, rising against the evening sky, stood the mountains. Real mountains now. Close enough to touch.

A smile spread across Rip's face.

Beth reached over and squeezed his arm.

And Carter couldn't stop staring.

After two full days on the road, countless miles, arguments about music, gas station coffee, motel rooms and endless highways . . . they were finally here.

The branding hadn't even started yet. The work hadn't begun. The reunions were still ahead. But as the Lazy D valley opened before them, and they saw the approaching grand gateway, all three felt the same thing.

They were home. At least for a little while.

***

When they arrived at the barn and corrals there were two other rigs already parked up, and four cowboys tending to some horses. Rip recognized two of them, a couple of boys from the Bitteroot Ranch, which was on the opposite end of Paradise Valley to where the Yellowstone was located. When he stepped out of his rig one of the boys noticed him and gave a wave, before walking over to greet the new arrivals.

‘Well, I’ll be damned!’ the red-haired cowboy said as he approached. ‘As I live and breathe, it’s Rip Wheeler himself!’

Rip grinned and thrust out his hand.

‘Rusty Springs! Apparently, they haven’t hung you yet!’ Rip answered as they shook.

‘Ain’t been for the lack of tryin’!’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t doubt that,’ Rip said, with a chuckle.

They were soon joined by Beth and Carter, then Rusty’s companion also joined them, being introduced as Skip Taggart.

‘So, how many hands has old Hank got coming to help out?’ Rip asked.

‘Well, he told us that there would be half dozen or so coming from the old Yellowstone crew, so that’s you guys, I guess. Then Hank has a couple of young hands, but they don’t got no real experience. Then there’s me and Skip, and those two over there from the J-Bar Ranch, plus a couple of others coming from ranches scattered along the valley. There’ll be more than a dozen or so, all up. So, who else you got coming?’

‘Seven all up, counting the three of us, Kayce and his boy, Tate, along with Lloyd and Teeter,’ Rip replied.

‘Teeter! That foul-mouthed, pink-haired princess! She’s still around?’ Rusty laughed.

‘Yeah, she’s been working in Texas a bit. I’ve tried to stay in touch with some of the old team.’

‘I heard Lloyd was working for a pack outfit lately, taking tourists into the Yellowstone. Sounds to me like you’re gettin’ the band back together?’

‘Ha. Yeah, you could say something like that,’ Rip answered, just as they heard the sound of a four-wheeler coming up the hill from the main house and turned to see Hank making his way towards them, his hat pulled down tight.

Hank was a big man, and was getting on in years, approaching eighty now, and time was catching up with him. That tends to happen when you spend your younger years rodeoing and working hard in a harsh and unforgiving land.

As he came to a stop, sending dust flying everywhere in the late afternoon sun, he cut the engine and grinned at Rip, before carefully stepping off the machine, clearly showing that he wasn’t as agile as he once was.

‘Glad you could make it!’ he said to Rip, as he shook his hand. He then planted a kiss on Beth’s cheek, and also shook Carter’s hand, while saying, ‘Surely this can’t be the same kid that used to tag along with you, Rip?’

‘That’s him alright, Hank.’

‘Hmmm . . . he’s almost all grown up now! Texas must agree with him or something.’

‘Something like that.’

‘I’d best lock up that granddaughter of mine then!’ Hank added, which created a ripple of laughter, and a blush on Carter’s cheeks. Then turning to Beth he said, ‘And I hope you’re doing okay, darlin’? We all miss your daddy, something fierce.’

‘Thank you, Hank. He was loved by many people, and we all miss him so much.’

‘And has there been any news of Jamie?’ Hank asked innocently.

Beth and Rip exchanged a glance, but nobody seemed to notice.

‘No,’ Beth answered, giving a shiver as she did so. ‘The police haven’t mentioned a thing since he disappeared, other than their finding his burnt out car.’

Hank gave a sympathetic nod, before Rip quickly stepped in and changed the subject.

‘So, anywhere special you want us to park the rig and set up camp?’ he asked.

‘Oh, you all just make yourselves at home. I’m sure you’ll be able to find a level spot some place,’ Hank replied. ‘Bunkhouse has a kitchen and showers . . . you know the drill. If you don’t want to camp in your own rigs, you’re welcome to use the bunkhouse, or you can sleep out under the stars if you want. There are stables or corrals for the horses.’

‘Thanks. I’m sure we’ll figure something out.’

While they were talking, the two cowboys from the J-Bar Ranch came wandering over, giving a nod to those present when they arrived, while Hank continued to speak.

‘We’ll have a cookout tonight. Sit around a campfire and tell tall stories. Just like the old days, eh? Everyone else will be here by tomorrow, so then we’ll be able to get ready to go to work on Monday. I’ll leave ya’ll to get settled now, but I’ll be back before sundown, so we can get the campfire going.’

‘Sounds good to us, Hank. Thanks.’

With a nod, Hank climbed back aboard his four-wheeler and started it, then sped off down the hill towards the house.

Rip and Beth exchanged another glance as Hank drove away, but this one was noticed by Carter. He knew that when Beth raised that one eyebrow, something was usually up . . . but he knew better than to bring it up. As much as he loved this couple, Carter knew when and where he should, or shouldn’t, step in.

Once Hank had left, the two latest cowboys were introduced as being hands from the J-Bar Ranch; Wade Briggs and Clint Holloway.

'Wade Briggs,' the taller one said, as he offered his hand. 'J-Bar Ranch.'

'Rip Wheeler.'

The handshake was firm, and Wade's expression changed slightly.

'Wheeler? As in Yellowstone?'

'Used to be.'

'Well, I'll be damned.' Wade grinned. 'Heard plenty about you boys.'

'Don't believe everything you hear.'

'Wouldn't dream of it.'

The other cowboy stepped forward.

'Clint Holloway,' he said, shaking Rip's hand before turning towards Carter.

'Carter,' the younger man replied.

'You work with Rip?'

'Yeah. Down in Texas now.'

'Long haul.'

'Long enough.'

Clint chuckled.

'I'll bet.'

Beth emerged from the living quarters of their trailer, having just stepped away to grab a bottle of water.

'And I'm Beth. The one who keeps these two idiots from killing each other.'

Wade tipped his hat.

'Ma'am.'

'Don't ma'am me, sweetheart. Makes me feel old.'

'Sorry.'

'And don't apologise. Makes you sound guilty.'

Carter turned away to hide his grin.

The J-Bar was located in a valley behind the Lazy D. Rip knew of it, but couldn’t recall ever having visited. It had changed hands in recent years, and all the workers were new, so Rip hadn’t met any of them before today.

Both these cowboys looked to be in their mid-twenties. The taller of the two – Wade – had sandy hair beneath a battered straw hat and wore a faded, blue work shirt tucked into his jeans. In some ways he reminded Rip of Jimmy Hurdstrom, who had been on the payroll at Yellowstone, but this guy at least looked like he knew his way around a ranch. Jimmy had been a hopeless case when he had first come to the Yellowstone, but at least he turned out alright . . . eventually.

Clint, was a little shorter and broader through the shoulders, with dark hair, a day's growth on his chin and an easy smile.

The conversation drifted naturally towards horses, cattle and the work Hank had lined up for the coming days. Wade and Clint had arrived earlier that morning and had already spoken to several of the other hands.

'Should be a hell of a gathering,' Wade said. 'There's cattle scattered all over that back country.'

'Yeah,' Clint added. 'Hank reckons we'll be riding some pretty rough ground before we're done.'

Rip nodded. 'Wouldn't be the first time.'

As they talked, he found himself studying the two men.

There was something about them he couldn't quite put his finger on. Nothing wrong, exactly. They seemed capable enough, and their hands and clothes suggested they were no strangers to hard work.

But there was an ease between them that went beyond the usual familiarity of cowboys who spent their days working together.

Clint would start a sentence and Wade would finish it. Wade would glance towards their trailer and Clint would already be moving to fetch whatever was needed. Once, when Clint made some remark about Wade's driving, Wade gave him a look that was almost affectionate.

Rip frowned slightly.

Huh.

Beth had noticed it too.

In fact, she'd noticed it almost immediately.

She'd spent enough years in business, dealing with all sorts of people, to recognize when two individuals shared something that wasn't necessarily obvious to everyone else. One of her former personal assistants had been gay, and over the years they'd developed a friendship that extended well beyond the office.

She'd learned a thing or two from him.

Watching Wade and Clint, she found herself wondering whether they might be more than just workmates.

Not that it was any of her business. And certainly not something she intended to mention to Rip. At least, not yet.

Instead, she smiled pleasantly as Wade excused himself to return to their trailer.

'Nice meeting you boys.'

'You too, ma'am.'

Beth raised an eyebrow.

Wade caught himself.

'Beth.'

'Much better.'

***

Rip climbed back into the truck and started it up again, while Beth climbed into the passenger seat, though just why she did that Rip wasn’t too sure. He eased the rig around the far end of the bunkhouse, studying the ground ahead of him as he looked for somewhere suitable to park. There were already several rigs scattered around the yard, their trailers arranged in a loose semicircle beyond the corrals. A horse stood tied to the side of one of the trailers, while their owners unloaded gear, and somewhere beyond the buildings a dog was barking at something that apparently deserved its undivided attention.

Spotting a reasonably level patch of ground between the corrals and another gooseneck, Rip slowed the truck.

'That'll do,' he muttered.

Beth looked out through the passenger window.

'You're not parking us right on top of those poor bastards, are you?'

'Nope.'

'Because I'd rather not spend the next few days listening to somebody snore through the wall of a horse trailer.'

'Then it's a good thing I ain't parking us next to one.'

She gave him a sideways look.

'You always this charming after a long drive?'

'Only when I've got company.'

Rip checked his mirrors, swung the rig around, then backed it carefully into position. He left a generous distance between their trailer and the one already parked nearby, making sure there was room to unload horses, move equipment and generally avoid tripping over one another.

The neighbouring trailer carried the brand of the J-Bar Ranch.

'Right,' Rip said, switching off the engine. 'Let's get these horses out.'

Carter was already heading for the rear of the trailer.

'Well, don't just sit there talking about it,' Beth teased.

Beth shook her head as the two of them climbed from the truck.

'And people wonder why I drink,' Rip said under his breath, hoping that his wife hadn’t heard.

***

The horses were understandably pleased to be released from the confines of the trailer.

Carter lowered the ramp while Rip went inside to untie the first of the three animals. They worked quietly and efficiently, leading each horse down in turn and allowing it a moment to look around before walking it towards the nearest available corral.

After two days on the road, even the quietest of them was feeling a little pissed. Beth’s gelding tossed his head and danced sideways, earning a sharp word from Rip.

'Knock it off, you fool. You've got all afternoon to make an ass of yourself.'

Carter grinned as he led his own horse towards the gate.

'Think he's happy to be here.'

'He'll be happier when he figures out he ain't going straight back in that trailer.'

They turned the horses loose in the corral, watching as the animals immediately broke into a trot, tails raised and heads tossing. One bucked twice, another rolled in the dust, and within moments they were cantering around the enclosure as though determined to make up for every mile they'd spent standing still.

Carter leaned against the top rail.

'Can't say I blame them.'

Rip rested his forearms on the fence beside him.

'Nope.'

For a moment neither spoke.

Beyond the ranch buildings the country rose towards the mountains, their distant peaks standing blue-grey against the afternoon sky. The air was cooler than it had been in Texas, and carried that familiar mixture of dust, dry grass, horses and pine.

Carter drew a deep breath.

'Damn, I've missed this.'

Rip glanced at him.

'Yeah,' he said quietly. 'Me too.'

‘It’s so different to Texas.’

‘Yeah.’

They watched the horses for another minute before Rip straightened.

'All right. Enough sightseeing. We've still got work to do.'

'Wouldn't be a proper holiday otherwise.'

'Who the hell said anything about a holiday?'

Carter laughed and followed him back towards the trailer.

***

By late afternoon, their little camp was beginning to take shape.

The front section of the gooseneck contained modest living quarters, with a small bed, kitchenette and enough room for Rip and Beth to spend a few nights in reasonable comfort.

Carter had already announced that he intended to sleep outside. 'Under the stars,' he'd told them.

Beth had looked at him as though he'd suggested sleeping in a ditch. 'You do realize we have a perfectly good roof?'

'Yeah.'

'And a bed?'

'Yeah.'

'And you still want to sleep on the ground?'

'That's the plan.'

Rip had simply shrugged.

'May as well let him. Might knock some sense into him.'

Carter had merely grinned.

He'd rolled out his bedroll beside the trailer, far enough from the horses to avoid the worst of the dust but close enough to hear them moving about during the night.

If the weather turned bad, he figured he could always retreat into the back of the gooseneck. For now, though, the sky was clear, the air was fresh, and he was back in Montana.

Life was pretty good right now.

***

Just before sundown, the sound of vehicles approaching drew Carter's attention away from rolling out his bedroll. Looking down the road towards the main house he spotted Hank on his four-wheeler coming up the hill, and from the main gate, following by some distance behind, was an elderly Ford F-150 towing an equally battered two-horse trailer.

The Ford looked as though it had seen considerably better days. Its paint was faded, one front fender was a slightly different colour from the rest of the body, and the trailer behind it rattled and squeaked over every bump.

Carter squinted towards it. Then he grinned.

'Well, I'll be damned.'

Eventually the Ford rolled to a stop beside the other trailers and a weathered cowboy climbed from behind the wheel, his hat pushed back on his head. He wore well-worn blue jeans, a checked shirt and a battered vest, and moved with the slightly-stiff gait of a man who'd spent more years in the saddle than most people spent on the ground.

Lloyd Pierce.

Then the passenger door opened, and a tall, thin woman climbed out. Her bright pink hair was visible from halfway across the yard.

Teeter.

In the flesh.

'Well, shit,' Carter said with a laugh. 'Look who's here.'

To be continued . . .