Nadia Nichols - A Family For Rose

Shannon glanced in the rearview mirror. “How’re you doing back there, Rose?”

“Good, Momma. I’m counting cows, like you told me to.”

“How many so far?”

“So many I can’t go that high,” Rose said, all blue eyes, fair skin and sweetness.

“We must be in Wyoming, then,” Shannon said.

“Are we almost there?”

“Almost, sweetheart. I’m going to stop for gas at this little store up ahead, and then it’ll be just a few more miles and we’ll be home.”

“Will there be horses there?”

“I don’t know, Rose. There used to be lots of them, and I hope there still are.”

Hope. The word mocked her. She’d done nothing but hope this whole long drive. Hope her father would be glad to see them. Hope he’d sell her that little piece of land she coveted, so she could build a house and haven for herself and Rose on that little pine-clad knoll above the creek near the ranch gate. Hope she could make a new life for herself and her daughter, and mend fences with her father.

Hope and pray Travis wouldn’t follow them here.

Shannon pulled alongside the gas pumps out in front of Willard’s General Store. The sign was a little more faded after ten years, but the store’s facade looked the same. The weathered bench in front of the store was empty, but it would be at four o’clock on a summer afternoon during haying time. She unbuckled her seat belt and got out, stretching cramped muscles. The air was warm and clean and smelled of sweetgrass and sage. She drew it into her lungs, remembering past summers, other times. The screen door opened with the familiar tinkling of the brass shop bell and Willard Jackson emerged, pulling on a pair of leather work gloves. Same old Willard. Gray hair and beard, wiry and spry, eyes bright behind gold-rimmed glasses. He started down the steps as the screen door banged shut behind him and then came to an abrupt stop when he spotted her.

“Shannon?” he said. “Shannon McTavish! Well I’ll be hanged. How are you, girl? It’s been a dog’s age since you went and got famous on us. Good to see you!”

Shannon had to restrain herself from hugging him, her reaction was that acute. She shook the hand he offered with a glad smile. “It’s good to see you, too, Willard. It’s been a while, for sure. I’ve come back to visit Daddy and my gas tank’s about empty. I’d appreciate if you’d fill it with regular. How are things with you? How’s Wilma?”

Willard began pumping the gas. “Oh, things around the store are the same as ever. Wilma’s fine. Not much has changed since you left.” He canted his head as if reconsidering what he’d just said. “Your daddy know you’re coming?”

Shannon shook her head. “I wanted to surprise him. Why? Is everything all right?”

“Well...” Willard began reluctantly, then stopped. His jaw dropped as he looked through the open car window at Rose. “By the sweet ever lovin’. Is that little’un yours?”

“She sure is. Rose turned six last month. Say hi to Mr. Jackson, Rose.”

“Hi, Mr. Jackson,” Rose said.

“Hello, Rose. You’re as pretty as your mother, you know that? You planning on staying awhile?”

“Momma says we’re gonna live here, and I’m going to ride horses every day,” Rose said.

Willard nodded. “Glad to hear it. Your momma sure could ride, before she got herself famous in Nashville.” He topped off the tank and replaced the gas cap. “You planning on moving back here for real?” he asked, that same cautious look in his eyes.

Shannon reached inside the car for her purse. “Willard, to tell the truth, right now I can’t say whether I’m coming or going. It’s been a long journey and I’m really tired.”

He nodded his understanding. “The ranch road’s gotten pretty rough since you been gone. There’re some washouts that fancy car of yours might not like. Things at your daddy’s ranch might look a little different now from what you remember.”

Shannon wondered what he was trying to tell her, then shrugged off her fears. “Everything changes, Willard. I’m just glad to be home.”

“We’re glad to have you. If you need any supplies out there, anything at all, just give me a holler. I’ll drive ’em out myself after closing time.”

“That’s kind of you, but I’m sure we’ll be okay.” Shannon counted off the bills for the gas and gave them to Willard. “Give Wilma my love.”

The ranch turnoff was less than a mile from the store, and the entrance to the ranch road looked pretty much the same. Same massive cedar poles set on either side, two feet in diameter and twelve feet tall, with the ranch sign up high, spanning the distance between them.

The sign was painted steel, rusting gracefully, with a cutout of a running horse. McTavish Ranch was lettered in gold against the dark red painted steel. Her mother had made the sign, using an arc welder to cut out the big silhouette of the running horse. When it first went up, folks had come from miles around to admire it, and after all these years it was still a handsome sign, welcoming her home and making her feel as though everything was going to be all right.

That feeling lasted until she saw the new house that was being built not a stone’s throw from the ranch turnoff, on the banks of the Bear Paw, smack-dab on the spot where she used to wait for the school bus.

She braked abruptly, her fingers tightening around the wheel, and for a moment she couldn’t believe her eyes. It was as if someone had found her childhood diary with the drawing of her little dream house in it, the house she’d planned to build in this very same spot one day. Only nobody knew what her dream house looked like. She hadn’t told a soul she was coming back. Nobody would’ve built that house for her on the little knoll overlooking the creek.

“I don’t believe it,” she said aloud.

The building was a small, story-and-a-half ranch with a wide porch across the side facing the creek. Simple and pleasing to the eye. The structure was framed up and closed in, sheathed in house wrap, but the roof was only half shingled and the siding wasn’t on yet. No windows had been installed in the framed-out openings. No doors. She could see a generator under a lean-to near the house. Stacks of roof shingles and lumber were neatly arranged in the yard.

“Are we there, Momma?” Rose asked from the back seat, perking up.

“No, honey, not yet.”

“Why’re we stopped?”

“I’m looking at a house.”

Rose hitched up in her seat to see out the side window. “Who lives here?”

“Nobody...yet. It isn’t finished.” Shannon was still trying to process it all. Was it possible that her father was building this place for her and Rose? Was it possible that, all along, he’d been waiting for her to come home? Hoping that she would? Awaiting the day? Had she been wrong about him, thinking that all these years he was still angry with her, that he never wanted to see her again? Could this little house be proof that he really loved her and hoped she’d come back?

“No,” Shannon concluded with a shake of her head. “Never in a million years would Daddy be building that house for me.”

The final stretch of road to the ranch was worse than rough. One of the first things she’d have to do would be to trade her Mercedes for a pickup truck. If her father let her stay, that was.

But she might have destroyed all chances of that ten years ago. Daddy’d warned her about quitting school and running off with Travis Roy. The day she’d left home they’d had a terrible fight, said terrible things to each other, things they could never take back. Shannon figured he’d get over his big mad, but he hadn’t, not even after ten years. Hadn’t answered any of her letters, hadn’t asked her to come visit or expressed any interest at all in his granddaughter. Worst of all, every single thing he’d warned her about had come to pass. He might not have spoken to her in forever, but for sure he’d say these four words to her when she came crawling home. He’d say, “I told you so,” and he’d be right.