Judy Christenberry - Finding A Family

That evening, after a lackluster meal and the cleanup, which was worse than usual because he’d burned the meat loaf, Hank told his father good-night. He watched as his father shuffled down the hall to the master bedroom.

Hank had had several second thoughts about his decision, but his father’s behavior tonight had strengthened his resolve to go through with his plan. There was no time to waste. He got out some paper and a pen and sat down at the kitchen table. What should he put in the ad?

By midnight, after much erasing, he’d come up with a simple advertisement.

Friendly widow needed to handle a male household. Cooking and cleaning required. Private bedroom and Sundays off. Send qualifications and photo to Brownlee Ranch, P.O. Box 512, Ashland, Colorado 80546.

He reread it several times. He’d get Larry to read it tomorrow. But he wouldn’t mention his plan to Dad. He knew his father would condemn the idea, but Hank had to do something. He refused to lose his father, too.

Several weeks later he opened the day’s mail with a sigh. Not much anticipation. None of the women who had contacted him thus far had seemed right. Most of them were too painted-up, the kind who would expect to be able to go to town two or three times a week. The closest town, Ashland, was twenty-five miles away. And it wasn’t even a city.

Several of them didn’t look as if they’d ever lifted so much as a finger for anyone, let alone run a household. Hank needed help; he sure didn’t want someone else to take care of in addition to his dad.

He checked the postmark on the one letter he’d gotten today. Denver. Another city lady looking for a free ride he presumed.

When he ripped the envelope open, a picture fell out. He picked it up. Three people were in the picture, a lady around fifty, a beautiful young woman in her twenties and a toddler.

He liked the looks of the woman. Maggie. Nice name. Good, down-to-earth name. He scanned the letter. It was well-written and brief, and told him she enjoyed cooking and cleaning. She was perfect! Almost too good to be true. Hank decided to hire her. And as a bonus, he’d even allow the woman to let her daughter and grandson visit her at the ranch. Why not? Hank could afford to be generous, particularly if having the older woman around sparked his father’s interest. Yep, this widow-woman would be just what his dad needed. Yeah, she would be perfect.

And her timing couldn’t be better. Hank had promised a friend that he’d help with a round-up. The round-up would take Hank away from the ranch for a couple of days. Fearing to leave his dad alone, Hank had been afraid he’d have to renege on his promise. But now he’d have someone here to take care of his dad while he was away.

He quickly wrote out a letter of acceptance. His spirits were soaring. His dad was going to be taken care of and maybe even spark back to life. And hiring the widow would get Hank out of the kitchen. Hank had to admit he was a lousy cook. In fact, he’d been losing weight ever since his mom had died. And his dad was as frail as could be.

Hank didn’t tell his father until the night before his departure. As the older man slowly rose and headed down the hallway, he stopped him. “Dad, I have a surprise for you.”

“Don’t want any surprises,” he muttered, still moving.

“I’ve hired someone to cook and clean. She should arrive tomorrow, but I won’t be here to show her around. I have to go to Ron Harper’s place. Five of his guys are sick with the flu and I told him I’d pitch in.” His father just snorted derisively as he continued down the hall.

“Dad, I hope you’ll let this nice lady take care of you. Dad—I’ll be back in a week.”

Later, Hank gave more specific instructions to Larry, who was remaining on the ranch. “I left her first week’s pay in an envelope for her.” He handed Larry a white envelope. “Give it to her at the end of the week.”

“What’s her name?”

“Maggie. Good name, solid.”

“Yeah. What did your dad say?”

“Nothing. He didn’t seem to care. I hope I’m doing the right thing.”

Larry leaned over and slapped him on the shoulder. “I’m sure you are. When is she coming?”

“Tomorrow, but I’ll be up and out of here before she arrives. I left a note for her. Keep an eye on Dad for me.”

“Will do.”

Maggie Woodward pulled up in front of a nice ranch house with an old-fashioned broad porch. Tim could play out there no matter what the weather. She turned her car motor off and looked at the little boy still sleeping in the back seat.

She breathed a sigh of relief. She’d taken this job for Timmy’s sake. She wanted him to have a country childhood like she had had.

Maggie had missed ranch life, but she’d gladly become a city girl when her husband took a job in Denver. She’d stayed home with Timmy, but after Derek’s death, she’d gotten a secretarial job in Denver to support herself and her son and moved in with her aunt.

As she gazed around at her surroundings, Maggie wondered if her new employer would allow her to invite Kate to visit. She missed the older woman already and Timmy had cried this morning when they’d told Kate goodbye. So had Maggie.

With a sigh, she opened the car door and got out to take her son inside. It was late July, the hottest time in Colorado. She slid his little body toward her. He was sturdily built.

“Mommy?” the little boy muttered as he turned towards her body.

“It’s all right, sweetie. Finish your nap.” She climbed the steps to the back door, hoping no one would mind that she entered the house that way.

She heard something behind her and turned to see a young man hurrying out of the barn in her direction. She stood there in the afternoon sun, watching his approach.

“Howdy, ma’am. Are you Maggie?”

She smiled in relief. “Yes, I am, Mr. Brownlee.”

“No ma’am. I’m not the owner. He’s not here. He asked me to make you feel at…home. Who’s he?” Larry asked, gesturing to the bundle of little boy in her arms.

“He’s my son. May I take him in where it’s cool? He’s getting a little heavy.”

“I’ll take him.” She shook her head so he stepped around her and held open the back door. “Did you mention to Hank that you’d be bringing him?”

She came to an abrupt halt in the kitchen and turned around. “Yes, I told him. Is there a problem?”

“I guess not,” Larry muttered. “Uh, your bedroom is through here.” He led her to the room behind the kitchen. After looking at the room, he said, “I guess Hank didn’t have time to fix it up much,” he muttered.

“That’s all right,” Maggie told him. The welcome hadn’t quite been what she was hoping for, but she could handle it.

Larry pulled down the grimy coverlet and discovered there were no sheets on the mattress.

“Can you find a sheet or quilt I can lay Timmy on?” Maggie quietly asked.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Larry had no idea where those things were. He found Mr. Brownlee sitting in his usual place in the living room. “Sir, where are the sheets?”

At first there was no change of expression. It was as if Carl Brownlee hadn’t heard him. Then he frowned. “In the hall closet.”

Larry hurried there and found a folded sheet. He grabbed it and headed for the back bedroom.

Carl actually came out of the living room. “You don’t need to stay with me, Larry.”

Larry turned around and backed toward the bedroom. “No, sir. This is for the housekeeper.” Then he ducked into the room and laid the folded sheet on the bed.

Maggie, whose arms were aching with the weight of her son, breathed a sign of relief. “Thank you. If you’ll just unfold it a little.”

Larry did so and she laid her son down and gently covered him with part of the sheet.