Michael McGarrity - The big gamble

Kerney cracked a smile in the darkness. The land was beautiful but the native grasses were hardly sufficient for raising livestock. Still, he wanted to put some animals on it, and had decided to raise horses, primarily for pleasure, selling a few every now and then. Perhaps, when he retired, he'd get into breeding, but there was a lot he had to learn. Modern ranching had become a science, and he was way behind the curve on what he needed to know.

Did he have any horses? Yeah, one. A mustang named Soldier he'd bought at auction and turned into a good cutting horse. Dale was keeping Soldier on his ranch until the time came for Kerney to claim him. That time was coming fast.

Sara had been bugging him to give the ranch a name. Today on the phone, after he'd talked her through the final house siting, she'd teased him about it. Everything he'd suggested she dismissed as insipid. He had orders to come up with something good, perhaps even creative.

What did he have? Right now, he owned two sections of land and a horse.

That was it: The One Horse Ranch.

He made his way down the rocky dirt road thinking he really did need to rebuild it. He would call around to see if he could scour up a grader soon.

The telephone call from Wendell and Hannah caught Kerney by surprise. Hannah recited the letters of the alphabet she'd learned along with her numbers, which she rattled off into the double digits. As the piece de resistance she informed Kerney that she could write out her name. Kerney said he was amazed and that Hannah was a very, very smart girl.

"I know," Hannah said, handing the phone off to Wendell.

Wendell described the picture he'd drawn for Kerney and asked if it would be all right to have his mother mail it to him. Kerney said that he would love to have it. He would keep it in his office at police headquarters.

"I'm gonna be a policeman, just like you and my dad," Wendell said.

The pleasure in the children's voices made Kerney realize that no matter what stood between him and Clayton, to Hannah and Wendell he was their grandfather, and they seemed to like it. He wondered where the idea for the phone call had come from. He didn't think Clayton was behind it, so that left Grace, or Clayton's mother. He settled on Grace as the instigator.

Grace came on the line and Kerney asked about Clayton.

"He would have called himself," she said, "but he's out of town."

"Give him my best, and tell him I'll be coming down there soon."

"Stop by the house while you're here," Grace said. "Wendell and Hannah would love to see you."

"I'll do that," Kerney said. "Thank you for calling, Grace. It made my day."

"From the smiles on your grandchildren's faces, I'd say the feeling was mutual."

The phone rang immediately after Kerney disconnected. He picked up to find Sara on the line.

"Sara, I just…"

"Don't talk, Kerney, listen. I'm pissed at you and this whole situation. I think you just want me only for sex, or for carrying your child, or for occasional companionship when I can fly in on one of your rare free weekends."

Kerney's cheerfulness evaporated. "What are you talking about?"

"I should have been there today for the house siting, not hearing about it on the other end of a phone call. I should have been there because it's supposed to be our house. I don't think you give a damn about me. You've just got this fantasy going about a wife, a family, and a ranch, not necessarily in that order."

"That's crazy. I thought you said you couldn't get away between now and graduation."

"Of course I can't get away," Sara snapped. "That's not what I'm talking about. You could have waited. What's one month? Shit! I hate to curse. Shit, shit, shit."

"Why didn't you tell me this before?"

"I shouldn't have had to. It should have been clear in your mind that it was something we needed to do together."

"I've just been trying to move things along."

"Why? So it can all come together perfectly according to some master plan? The house gets built, the pregnant wife appears, the baby gets born."

Stunned by the criticism, Kerney tried again to explain. "I just wanted to have everything ready for you and the baby."

"The place you're renting is more than adequate for us."

"You're being wrongheaded about this."

"Wrongheaded? If I'm so wrongheaded why do you even bother to know me?"

Kerney heard the phone go dead. He dropped the receiver and stared at it, pulled his hand back from it. Now, he was pissed-beyond belief pissed. He was a jerk, a dummy, an unfeeling, inconsiderate SOB. A bum for wanting to make Sara happy.

Where had all this come from? A few hours ago she was laughing on the phone, talking excitedly about the house plans, consulting the architectural drawings he'd sent her, and asking questions.

The phone rang and Kerney picked up.

"Do you want to talk?" Sara asked.

He could hear her crying. "Yes, of course." A long silence followed, punctuated by Sara's sniffling. "Are you still angry?" he asked.

"I'm hurt, not angry."

Kerney's indignation abated. "I had no intention to hurt you."

"I know that. But sometimes you get so single-minded I want to give you a swift kick."

"I think you just have."

"I guess I did."

"Are you all right?" Kerney asked.

"No, I'm hormonal, pregnant, lonely, exhausted, and wondering what's in store for us."

"A good life together," Kerney said, trying for something upbeat.

"Yeah, the rare times we're together."

"We still have to work that out."

"Yes, we do. If you want me to raise this child on my own, tell me now."

Her words hit Kerney like a sucker punch. "Hold on a minute."

"Do you?"

"Never, dammit." He heard her intake of breath followed by another silence.

"Okay."

"What do you want?" he asked.

"I'd like to reach out and touch you in my bed tonight. Oh, never mind. I have to go. Good night."

"Sara, don't hang up this way."

"I'll be fine."

"I'm not sure I will," Kerney said.

"I wouldn't embarrass myself by crying at you over the telephone if I didn't love you. My nose is running, my eyes are red, and I need a big hug."

"Do you want me to fly in this weekend?"

"No, I won't have a spare moment."

"Okay."

"Just say good night," Sara said.

"How about if I say I love you, instead?" Kerney countered.

"That will do nicely."

"I love you."

"Me too," Sara replied.

He held the dead phone in his hand until a recorded message urged him to hang up. Then he poured whiskey into a glass and stood on the patio staring at the hill behind the house in the darkness. He felt angry, hurt, above all misunderstood. Suddenly, he was dissatisfied with himself, with everything.

He sipped the whiskey. The quarter moon and the star-filled sky couldn't hold his interest. The stiff cold breeze against his face felt insignificant even though he started to shiver. The whiskey burned his throat.

Was he really so unfeeling? Pigheaded? Inconsiderate? How could Sara ever think that he would want her to raise their child alone? Was she sending him a message? Had she decided to keep her commission and stay on active duty after her maternity leave?

Confused, Kerney went inside and tried to get his head straight, although he didn't hold out much hope that it would happen easily.

Thomas Deacon was a little high and a little horny. He sat close to Ramona on a couch in his living room, occasionally letting his leg touch her knee as she looked at the enlargements she'd asked him to make. His leering smile made her want to slam his face into the hardwood floor.

The room was decorated with mismatched furniture, cheap throw rugs, and shelves made from concrete blocks and boards, which held a large number of videotapes within easy reach of a VCR and big-screen television. There wasn't a book in sight.