Myra Johnson - Rancher For The Holidays

“Not counting those church directory pictures every few years.” Uncle Steve grimaced. “Regular cattle call, the way they rush you in and out.” He stroked Aunt Jane’s cheek with a tender touch, his voice softening. “And last time they airbrushed away all my sweetheart’s character lines.”

“Character lines, my foot.” Giving her husband a playful punch on the arm, Aunt Jane winked at Ben. “Sounds to me like your uncle needs a new pair of bifocals.”

“I think you’re gorgeous, Aunt Jane.” Ben fetched the coffeepot and refilled everyone’s mugs. As they returned to their seats around the kitchen table, he asked, “So, can we set up a time with Marley soon?”

Ben’s aunt put a hand to the silver curls brushing her neck. “All depends on when I can get a salon appointment. If we’re going to be preserved for posterity, I want to look my best!”

“I should have my suit dry-cleaned, too,” Uncle Steve said. “Only ever wear it to weddings and funerals.”

“No suits allowed.” Ben smirked as he stirred hazelnut-flavored creamer into his decaf. “Seriously, I want to remember you just like you are today.”

“Aw, Ben.” His aunt patted his arm. “You’ve always been like a son to us. Having you around more than makes up for not having kids of our own. I’m glad your mama was willing to share.”

“Me, too.” Ben glanced away. Even two years later, he couldn’t keep the lump from climbing into his throat. “I miss her.”

“I miss her, too,” Uncle Steve said, glancing away. “My little sister was the best.”

The kitchen grew quiet for a few moments, and Ben couldn’t stop thinking that God must really have had it in for him. First his mom’s death, then Dad’s remarriage. And now, on top of everything else, the career Ben had fought so hard for had been ripped away.

As if sensing he needed to change the subject, Aunt Jane picked up the gift certificate, a bemused smile tilting her lips. “Still can’t get over you doing this for us. Marley’s really going to set up her camera stuff out here?”

“The ranch landscape will be the perfect backdrop.” Ben fought to shove down the niggling resentment, a side of himself he was growing to dislike more every day. “If we can decide soon on a date, she may be able to get it done before her after-school classes start up. Plus, it sounds like she’s really busy with this mission outreach stuff.”

Uncle Steve sipped his coffee. “I heard they’re planning a trip to Candelaria the week before Christmas. Got a call from Marley’s pastor over the weekend asking if we’d let them use our RV.”

“You should join Marley’s committee,” Aunt Jane suggested. “I’m sure they could use someone with your business sense.”

Ben scratched his head. “What do I know about church committees? Anyway, I should be spending my time job hunting.”

Aunt Jane rose and began putting plates in the dishwasher. “I thought you were taking some time to regroup before you jump back into the job market.”

“I can’t put it off indefinitely.” Ben carried his and Uncle Steve’s empty coffee mugs to the sink. “I’m still paying rent on my Houston condo, and then there’s my expensive toy sitting in your driveway.” He nodded out the window toward his Mustang.

“Maybe you should let the condo go,” Uncle Steve said. “You can stay with us as long as you like. Haven’t I always said I’d turn you into a rancher someday?”

Ben couldn’t help but laugh at his uncle’s persistence. “You know I’m not cut out for country living.”

Aunt Jane elbowed him. “Give it a chance and you might be surprised.”

From the kitchen window, Ben glimpsed some of Uncle Steve’s white-faced Herefords grazing in a nearby pasture. As boys, Ben and Aidan had visited a few times when their uncle had been preparing to ship cattle off to market. Ben always got attached to a favorite cow and hated saying goodbye when it came time to load the trailer. For weeks afterward he wouldn’t touch a hamburger or steak, fearing it was his cow.

He had a sudden image of Marley Sanders wolfing down her rib-eye dinner, and he laughed out loud.

* * *

Ben spent most of the following two days combing job-search sites for anything in his field. His aunt and uncle’s satellite internet connection wasn’t the fastest, but he didn’t have much choice unless he wanted to drive all the way into Alpine and find a coffee shop with free Wi-Fi.

He had to admit, though, the backyard view while sitting at Aunt Jane’s kitchen table sure beat the gray walls of his former office cubicle overlooking I-635. Rolling hills and rugged mesas dotted with desert plants, cattle grazing on stubby tufts of grass, a couple of horses cavorting in the near pasture—the Whitlow spread was a landscape straight out of a western film.

Uncle Steve entered through the back door and tossed his dusty straw Stetson onto a chair. “Having any luck?”

“Not much.” Ben closed his laptop, then leaned back and stretched.

“Maybe it’s time for a change.” Uncle Steve grabbed a tall plastic tumbler from the cupboard, then filled it with crushed ice and water from the fridge dispenser. He took a big gulp and sat down across from Ben. “I’m serious, son. This layoff might be God’s way of telling you He’s got other ideas for your life.”

“Then He should have told me before I invested all those years getting an MBA.” Ben couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his tone.

“I’m not saying He doesn’t intend for you to use the education and experience you already have. God doesn’t waste anything.” Uncle Steve’s mouth twisted in a thoughtful frown. “But there could be other ways to use your skills besides sitting behind a desk in a high-rise office building.”

Groaning, Ben ground his knuckles into his eye sockets. “I know you’re trying to help, and I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. But if you’re trying to convince me to stay here and look for work in Alpine, it’s not happening.”

“Now hold on, Ben, and hear me out. I know you love it here. I know because you’re like a different person, a happier person, every time you stay for a while. And like Jane and I have said time and again, you’re like a son to us. So it’d mean the world to me if you’d consider—if you’d just think about—partnering with me here on the ranch.”

Uncle Steve’s words touched a deep place in Ben’s heart, and it was true, he did love the ranch. Loved every minute he spent here. Blowing out a sharp breath, he scraped a hand down his face. “I can’t even tell you what an offer like that means to me, Uncle Steve. But I just don’t see it happening. You can put me in boots and jeans. You can trade in my Mustang for a bucking bronco. And I’ll still be a confirmed city boy. It’s who I am now. It’s the only life I know.”

Ben yanked the plug from the wall, grabbed up his laptop and trudged down the hall to the guest room.

Good jobs weren’t about the view. Who had time to notice the view, anyway, working fifty or sixty hours a week?

Ben flopped on the bed and stared at the ceiling. It was his father who’d suggested Ben spend a few weeks with Uncle Steve. He’d also made Ben promise he wouldn’t even think about looking for work right away. “You’re flush with savings,” Dad had said. “Don’t rush into anything. Use this time to get to know yourself again.”

This from the man who obviously didn’t know himself at all, who had remarried only nine months after Mom died.

And Uncle Steve certainly didn’t know Ben if he honestly thought Ben was cut out for ranch management.

Someone tapped on his door.

“It’s open.”

Aunt Jane peeked in. “Just got back from town. I stopped in to see Marley and set up an appointment. She’s coming out Sunday afternoon.”