Jackie Merritt - Wind River Ranch

Another incident that stood out occurred when most of the crowd had dispersed and only a few people remained in the living room. They were talking to Nettie. Dena hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast, and she went to the kitchen. Nibbling on a piece of ham, she stared out the window over the sink with her back to the room.

She felt drained and empty. For years she had been passionate about reconciling with her father. Without that driving force gnawing at her vitals, life seemed rather purposeless. Could she simply go back to Seattle, her job and friends, and act as though she hadn’t received the worst possible blow fate could have dealt her?

“Dena?” She turned slightly. Ry was standing there. “Are you all right?” he asked.

For the first time since she had met this man, she really saw him. He looked clean and crisp in his dark gray Western pants and shirt. There was a black string tie at his collar, and his black leather boots looked smooth as satin and shiny as a mirror. He wasn’t as handsome as Tommy. Rather, his features weren’t as perfectly arranged as Tommy’s. But he was tall and strongly built, and there was a mature, outdoorsy handsomeness to his face that Tommy would never attain. Tommy relied on being cute and thought the world owed him a living; Ry earned his own way and would probably be insulted if anyone referred to him as cute.

“I’m okay,” she told him. Ry had spoken to her before this today, but she honestly couldn’t remember what he’d said. In fact, much that had occurred—at the cemetery, especially—had seemed to vanish from her mind. Temporary memory loss, she thought. A measure of self-protection. It was natural and normal, and she was glad she didn’t recall every painful detail of the day.

Ry walked over to the table and took a cookie from a container. There was a lot of food left, and some plates and bowls to be returned to their owners when Nettie got her kitchen organized again.

Munching on the cookie, Ry looked at her. “I wanted to commend you for planning a sensible service.”

“A funeral is bad enough without wringing every drop of emotion out of everyone attending it,” she said quietly.

“Agreed. I arranged similar services for my parents.”

“You’ve lost your parents, too? Do you have any other family?”

Ry recalled mentioning one of his sisters the night he’d picked her up at the airport, but saw no good reason to remind Dena of it. “Two sisters,” he said. “They both live in Texas. I guess you’re an only child.”

“Yes.” Dena was suddenly choked up. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

Ry nodded. “Then we won’t. Dena, about the ranch...”

She cut in. “I’d rather not talk about that, either, if you don’t mind.”

“All I was going to say was that you can count on me to be here for as long as you might need my help. It’s pretty apparent that you don’t know what’s coming next, and while I feel Simon left you the ranch, I guess anything is possible. Whatever happens, I’ll hang around until you know your next move.”

“The other men won’t.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Can they work without paychecks? I don’t think so.”

“You just might be surprised about that. Besides, someone will have the authority to keep the ranch going, either you or a court-appointed manager.”

Dena frowned. “Are you saying that if Dad didn’t leave the ranch to me, the court will take over?”

“The state, Dena, and only if there’s no will. As methodical a man as Simon was, I can’t believe he didn’t have a will. Have you talked to John Chandler yet?”

“He’s out of town until the fifteenth.”

“Well, that’s only a few days away.”

“But I might not be here.”

Ry looked startled. “You’re not thinking of leaving so soon, are you?”

“I have a job in Seattle.”

“You have a lot more than a job here.”

“You’re only surmising that.”

“True, but it doesn’t make sense that you would leave before knowing exactly what Simon had in mind for the ranch.”

“If he had anything in mind for the ranch.” Even if there’s a will, I won’t be in it. Dena had a sudden strong impulse to explain everything to Ry, but she was so ashamed of the rebellious behavior that had caused the rift between her and her father that the impulse vanished with her next breath.

Ry’s information was disturbing. She couldn’t picture the ranch in the hands of a court-appointed stranger.

Neither could she imagine her father being negligent about a will. She didn’t believe that she was the recipient of Simon’s earthly possessions, but if there was a will, someone was. Her eyes narrowed slightly on Ry Hardin, who had finished the cookie and was dusting crumbs off his hands. Maybe Simon had left the ranch to him? Just how close had he and Ry gotten during their three-year association?

The question came out of her mouth almost as soon as it appeared in her mind. “Were you and Dad close?”

Ry gave his head a slight shake. “Not personally, no. He was my employer, and I respected his knowledge and abilities with the ranch. I believe he respected me in the same way.”

“And that was the extent of your relationship?”

Ry raised an eyebrow, giving her a questioning look. “Were you thinking there was more?”

“I never thought about it one way or the other.”

“Until now,” Ry said softly. “Now, why would that idea even cross your mind? And what difference would it make if Simon and I had been the best of friends?”

“No difference at all,” Dena answered quickly. But he was surprisingly perceptive, and she was embarrassed that he had so easily grasped the motivation behind her question. Nettle walked in then, which put an end to Dena’s and Ry’s conversation.

“Everyone’s gone,” Nettie announced, looking at the food on the table and counters. “Goodness, I won’t have to do any cooking for a week.”

Dena took advantage of Nettie’s intrusion. “I’m going to lie down, so if you’ll both excuse me...”

“Of course, honey,” Nettie said sympathetically.

“Sure,” Ry said. “We can talk again later.”

Dena had no intention of picking up their discussion where it had left off. If her father had left the ranch to Ry, so be it. Speculation on that subject was a useless endeavor, and she wished she hadn’t given Ry the impression that she was concerned about it.

But as she left the kitchen and walked down the hall to her bedroom, she knew that she was going to still be here on the fifteenth. It wasn’t that she wanted the ranch for herself, but she had to know who was going to end up with it. In truth, she would much prefer Ry owning it than the state.

She prayed her father had left a will.

Dena came wide awake and was startled to see that her bedside clock flashed only 10:43 p.m. She lay there doubting that she would get back to sleep for hours, and wished that she hadn’t come to bed so early in the day.

At least she had gotten through the worst of it without uncontrollable anguish, she told herself. There was an acute ache in her heart that she suspected would be there for a very long time, but she would have to learn to live with it.

“Oh, Dad,” she whispered into the darkness of her room. An overwhelming sadness enveloped her. He was gone, forever out of reach. She would write no more letters and pray for an answer. She would do her job, see her friends and try to fill the void in her life with something other than the hope that would no longer be a part of her.

She would never have the chance to say, “Dad, I love you,” or hear from him, “Dena, I love you now and always have. Let’s forgive each other, forget the past and go on from here.”