Twelve Months (13 page)

After enjoying a long silence, Bella called out to Al. “Why are all the horses male?” she asked.

He never hesitated with his answer. “'Cause the mares can be tough…moody, if you know what I mean.” He grinned. “…especially that special time of the month.”

Everyone laughed.

There was nothing to see but beautiful desert scenery surrounded by three majestic mountain ranges. It felt like we were back in the untamed days of the Old West. There was a tremendous variety of desert vegetation and rock formations. Al stopped us a few times to take in the sights and smells of the open desert. “We have a few thousand acres available to us, but for today we won't venture out too far.”

I kept trying to find a comfortable position in the saddle and was pleased that Jumbo didn't fuss. The old-timer turned out to be just as accommodating as Al.

We spent the morning riding out to some sandy washes. On the way, Al pointed out the local vegetation and wildlife. With the exception of two jackrabbits, one coiled snake and a family of circling vultures, the Arizona desert was barren of life. Bella kept looking up, concerned.

“They must have spotted you from the time we left,” I teased her.

Al chuckled. “Not likely,” he said, “but they're definitely hoping for something to lay down and die.”

I had to laugh. In light of my worsening condition, Bella didn't think it was all that funny – but I did.

After washing down Mrs. Gomes's bagged lunch with a full canteen of water, we headed back to the ranch. “Before this desert sun gives those vultures what they're looking for,” Al said.

No one argued – not even Mykala.

Amongst the ruggedly beautiful, wide-open land, the slow scenic ride through the Saguaro cactus challenged the cowboy in all of us. My legs ached something awful. I could hardly stand, never mind sit anymore. As we rode back, though, I became more concerned about what might be eating at Al.

Two hours after we'd made it back to camp, Paul and his entourage came hooting back onto the ranch. They were covered in dirt and smiling. I looked at Bella. “That's us tomorrow,” I said.

“If I can get my muscles to climb back on Scout.”

We ate real mesquite barbecue on long tables with checkerboard cloths. There were ribs and chicken, pork and beans, four-alarm chili and homemade corn bread. Though I knew my stomach would toss and turn, causing me half a night of lost sleep, my taste buds won out, and I exercised my dinner muscle for a solid twenty minutes. While we ate, Paul and Al gave an impromptu class on how to groom and saddle horses, and also covered roping on a dummy cow. I snuck Molly and Bailey a few ribs.

“Don't get caught,” Bella whispered.

“Why? They're not supposed to eat goat?” I quietly asked.

She looked at me, curiously.

“Well, I haven't seen Pumpkin all day, have you?”

She slapped my arm.

After chewing three antacids, I took in a game of horseshoes but decided to sit out the line dancing. I'm glad I did. Watching my beautiful wife spinning and laughing made my excruciating pains more bearable.

It was getting late when another friendly couple, Tommy and Chrissy, invited Bella and me to a poker tournament in the lodge. “Thank you, but I think we'll have to pass tonight,” Bella said. Instead, we got into our swimsuits and claimed the hot tub to ease some of the saddle sores we were already feeling. Like wrinkled prunes, we held each other and soaked. I'd never seen so many stars twinkling within reach. Without ambient light, heaven looked even closer than the poker tournament.

On Sunday morning, on bended knees, instead of pleading for a cure or more time, I gave thanks for all the goodness in my life. It's the strangest thing, but I felt so much better, so much closer to God by saying thank you instead of begging please.

We were served a light buffet breakfast so Mrs. Gomes could attend church. As I drank a mug of strong coffee, I scanned the mountains and sighed.
It's only been three days, but it already feels like home.

While others headed down to the stables, Bella stopped me. “I don't think my body can do it again today,” she said. “If you want to go on without me, I'll…”

“Nonsense,” I said, “I'm sure we'll find something else to do. Besides, the cattle drive's in two days.” I thought about Dr. Rice's wise words and shrugged. “There's nothing wrong with saving our energy.” I never admitted it, but I couldn't have been happier. My entire body throbbed.

As we walked back to our hacienda, I caught Bella's mischievous smile.
She knows my pain
, I decided,
and she's taking one for the team.

Within the hour, my resourceful wife had us heading out to an old ghost town named Oatman. Even though we bounced around in the wagon, I was excited to be on the impromptu field trip.

Oatman was named in honor of Olive Oatman, a young girl kidnapped by Mojave Indians and later rescued in 1857 near the town. It served as a railway passage for two years before the tent camp evolved into a gold-mining center. In 1915, two miners struck ten million dollars in gold. By the following year, the town's population grew to more than three thousand.

Good fortune went as quickly as it came though. In 1921, a massive fire claimed the smaller shacks in town. Three years later, United Eastern Mines shut down for good. From then on, Oatman struggled to survive by tending to travelers on U.S. Route 66.

As Bella and I walked the old western town, two burros roamed the very streets where gunfights were staged on weekends. The weather was exactly as Bella had predicted – delightful, with low humidity.

We visited the Oatman Hotel. Built in 1902, it was a run-down, two-story adobe structure that had once hosted miners, movie stars and politicians. It was Clark Gable and Carol Lombard's honeymoon spot in 1939; the major attraction that still kept the hotel doors opened. “Mr. Gable returned here many times to play poker with some of the locals and enjoy the tranquility of the desert,” the guide explained.

All along the wooden walks that lined the town, vendors sold handmade leather goods, Indian jewelry and knives. Bella did her usual browsing and bought a handbag for Riley before we stepped into the Mission Inn for lunch and a sweating pitcher of ice-cold lemonade.

Before we boarded the wagon heading back to the ranch, I posed in Michael and Riley's boots for a couple of full-length photos. “I can't believe you carried those all the way out here,” Bella said and snapped a few more pictures.

The night before the big cattle drive, Mrs. Gomes prepared a feast fit for royalty; a buffet of fried catfish, chicken fried steak, crispy ranch chicken with cranberry sauce and all the fixings. For dessert, she outdid herself with homemade cookies, warm breads and apple pie. I told Bella, “You'd better watch out. I think I'm falling in love with that woman.”

Bella shoved another cookie into her mouth and laughed. “I think I am, too.”

No one stayed behind. Ranch hands, guests and every horse at the ranch headed out for the two-day drive. Though I worried about my physical limitations, I was confident that my cowboy spirit was going to generate enough adrenaline to get me through.

We set out at a nice easy pace, but I could tell by the way Paul and Al were riding in circles that the pace was about to pick up. It did. With both wranglers at the lead of the caravan and Mrs. Gomes's covered chuck wagon bringing up the rear, all the rest of us had to do was stay in the middle and keep up. It proved to be a grueling task, and I doubled up on the pain meds just as soon as we stopped for a drink of water.

We traveled through beautiful mountain meadows and rugged pine forests for hours without seeing another human being. Though it felt like a thousand miles, we only traveled ten the first day. The herd of cattle that had been grazing in a giant mountain pasture was patiently waiting to be shipped back to the ranch's empty corrals for branding, vaccinating and sorting. While we set up camp, Paul and Al rode out with Dusty to search for a few wanderers that had strayed from the herd. Tony, Mark and Tommy joined their flank. I was happy to stay behind and help pitch the tents.

Though we ate under the same desert sky that night, it felt different; more real. I imagined the hard men who had gone before us, driving cattle, and I realized that my childhood dream had come true. Bella was helping Mrs. Gomes dish out some biscuits and gravy, along with some beef and barley soup, when I stepped up behind her and kissed the nape of her neck.

She startled and looked back. “What was that for?” she asked with a smile.

“For continuing to make my dreams come true.”

Mrs. Gomes wiped her hands on her apron and grinned. “I don't suppose my biscuits might fetch the same affection?” she asked.

I planted a big one on her cheek.

She laughed, heartily. “Y'all come and get it!” she called out.

The campfire burned brightly, and Dusty's stories and music were more spirited than ever.
I just hope my snoring doesn't bother any of them
, I thought. Sleep, I'd found, was the best remedy for dizzy spells and nausea.

The next morning, the aroma of bacon and eggs woke me. I gently shoved Bella. “Let's go, Annie Oakley,” I told her. “We got work to do.”

Everyone was gathered around the chuck wagon, talking and laughing about the day's work ahead.

“How'd you sleep last night, Don?” Mrs. Gomes asked, as she spooned some grits into my plate.

I was going to answer when Dusty said, “Like a bear.”

Everyone laughed.

“I'd say it was more like three bears,” Lisa added.

“I snored, huh?” I asked, thinking,
With the med
i
cation I'm on, it's a wonder I even woke up
.

“Is that what you call it?” Dusty asked. “I've been to chain saw competitions that weren't that loud.”

Everyone laughed, Mykala and Bella the loudest – everyone but Al. He was sitting alone under one of the pines.

When I figured they'd given me all the ribbing I deserved, I excused myself from Bella and Mykala, and joined my lonesome friend. “What's got you so happy?” I teased him before sliding down the pine tree beside him.

He looked up and smiled. It was only out of courtesy.

“Your horse up and leave you?” I joked.

His face turned painful and I cringed. I'd said the wrong thing. “I'm sorry, Al. I didn't mean to…”

“Close,” he said. “It's my girl that's left me.”

For a moment, I didn't know what to say. The man was heartbroken over a recent breakup and here I was sitting with both feet in my mouth.

He shrugged. “Time's going to heal it, though…right?”

I sat for a minute with him in silence. “Time will grind down the edges, so it doesn't hurt so much,” I finally answered, “and when enough time passes, the pain will feel so dull that you won't even notice it anymore.” I didn't know whether I should, but I placed my hand on his shoulder.

He never flinched. “I don't know how to put the pieces of my life back together,” he said.

This one I knew. “Just start with one piece at a time. When the time's right, you'll see the whole picture.”

He took my words to heart and nodded. “Thanks, Don,” he said, extending his hand. “I'm mighty obliged.”

I almost laughed, thinking,
It's me who should be thanking you for the small opportunity to make a diffe
r
ence in this world
. “Don't mention it, my friend,” I said, and then gestured toward the chuck wagon. “That Gloria's a real looker…and even a blind man could see she's got eyes for you.”

He tried to fight it, but he blushed.

“You might want to rope her in before one of the other cowboys gets to her.”

He watched her for a while and shrugged. “So you reckon she's got eyes for me, huh?”

“Yup. I sure do.”

I was terribly sore, but it was a good sore. Ignoring my body's complaints, I helped to round up the cattle. As I worked, I took in the beautiful scenery before me. Bella laughed with Lisa and our new friends, making me feel my love for her right down to my brittle bones. Al was hollering at some of the stubborn cattle, while Gloria stared at him. Mrs. Gomes sat with Mykala and watched her family with worried eyes. Paul was galloping up and down the meadow, scaring the strays back into the herd. When they were all together, Dusty sat high in the saddle of his surefooted horse. “Okay. Let's move ‘em!” he yelled.

And we did. In the warm Arizona sunshine, past the tall aspens and beyond the mountain breezes, we moved them through the wooded rolling hills toward home.

Somewhere along the trail, I gave a whole new meaning to riding high in the saddle. I was actually standing up in the stirrups because I couldn't sit anymore.

Twelve hours and fifty blisters later, we drove every head of cattle into their barbed wire pens. I'd never felt so tired, or such a sense of accomplishment in my life. I rode over to Bella and grabbed her hand.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Honestly…never better,” I answered.

The following morning, after we'd packed to go home, Bella and I made our rounds to say good-bye. “Thank you for your hospitality,” we told each of them.

The answer was always the same. “It was our pleasure,” they said and meant it.

Mrs. Gomes boxed one of her apple pies for us to take home. “We'd love to have you again,” she said. “Happy trails.”

I hugged her tight.

Dusty caught us out in the yard. “Keep your eyes peeled for varmints. I'm told there are lots of ‘em back in the city.”