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Montana Moon

By JD Hurst

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In The Beginning

Penny Harden heaved the fifty-pound sack of large-breed dog food onto her shoulder and headed for the cash register at the front of the crowded feedstore, careful not to jostle anyone as she moved. She wondered why there were so many people in the store at this time of day. It seemed as though the entire population of the miniscule Montana town was roaming the aisles and stopping to chat with each other. The volume of conversation ebbed and flowed but it didn’t stop her from feeling a bit overwhelmed with the cacophony of voices. She’d grown accustomed to the quiet with only the panting of her Rottweiler, The General, to break the silence. Crowded spaces with multiple conversations flowing at once always set her on edge, but this feedstore which was apparently the town’s gathering place, had her itching to get back outside into the brisk Fall air.
A deep voice rose above the rest as Penny waited in line to checkout. The voice, sounding agitated, broke through her silent calculations of how much would be left in her bank account after paying for the dogfood. She cringed at both the verbal interruption and the sum she came to even though she figured it twice. It was cooling rapidly here at the base of the Mission Mountains in Central Montana and Penny was anxious to move on to warmer climates before it was too late. Unfortunately, the dogfood purchase wouldn’t leave enough gas money to get far enough south to avoid winter weather. Thankfully, the horses were good on feed and hay for a while longer so she could worry about that purchase later. She forced herself to tune into the one-sided loud conversation that everyone else seemed to have quieted enough to listen to as well.
“What do you mean ‘Hank’ can’t make it?” The big voice boomed irritably. A pause as the speaker listened to the person on the other end of the line didn’t seem to reassure the man. “Oh man, that’s terrible! I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll be praying for him.”
Penny felt her heart go out to Hank as it would seem that something bad had happened to him. ‘Lord, please put Your hand on Hank and rescue him from whatever calamity has befallen him.’ She let her heart whisper even as she appreciated the fact that the man in the store had stated he would pray for his friend.
“Gus, what’re we supposed to do now? We’re leaving for Roundup next week!” The man groaned.
Penny had been surreptitiously looking around for the speaker, but she whipped her head directly toward the voice when she heard the lament. Was Hank supposed to be a part of the Roundup? Did this mean there was a job opening? Her heartrate picked up. She hated to be excited about Hank being unavailable due to a catastrophe, but she couldn't help but think this might just be God’s timing. She searched for the man who was now finding himself in need of help with something he thought was squared away. She didn’t care what the job was. She could adapt to just about anything and what she didn’t know, she could learn in a hurry as she’d always been a quick study. She’d searched the help wanted ads in the area, but no one was hiring as the tourist season was over and the locals were hunkering down for the impending winter. She needed a paycheck and quick.
A giant man who matched the voice came into view as she stepped up to the checkout and plunked the heavy bag onto the counter.
“Good afternoon, ma’am. Did you find everything okay?” The high schooler behind the register greeted her politely.
Penny barely remembered to answer the girl distractedly as she strained to listen to the phone conversation the man was still having as he pushed out the door with a new bridle in hand.
“I don’t know where to find a new camp cook, Gus. Not at this late hour. All the migrant workers have moved on and Hank is the only local who doesn’t have his own Roundup to get to…”
Penny could just make out the words as the door closed slowly behind the man. She handed over the last of her cash, scooped the sack onto her shoulder again and fairly ran out of the store, desperate not to let the man get away without having the chance to offer her services to his Roundup. She couldn’t help being excited. She was an experienced camp cook, having done the job for years at her family’s annual campout growing up in Wyoming, until she went away to college. Some lessons stayed with a person for a lifetime though and she was certain she hadn’t forgotten anything she’d learned all those years ago.
She scanned the gravel parking lot, full of trucks of every make and model. The sound of several engines running sent panic through her when she couldn’t find the giant. How could such a big man disappear so quickly and so completely? A truck door slammed at the back of the lot but there was no movement. Then Penny spotted a large figure through the windshield of a beefy truck parked in the last available spot as far away from her horses, Casper, and Cheyenne, as he could be. For whatever reason, she instinctively knew that the figure was the man in question. Apparently, he had taken refuge from the chilly wind in the cab of his truck to finish his conversation. She didn’t take the time to deposit the dogfood on the pack saddle that Cheyenne was under today. Honestly, she forgot she was carrying the heavy load as she rushed to catch up to the man before he could put his truck in gear and drive away. She beelined for the idling pickup and moved as fast as her short little legs would carry her.
The man was bent over his phone behind the steering wheel of the truck when Penny slid to a stop next to him. She hefted the sack to her left shoulder, but he didn’t look up, so she rapped her knuckles against the window. He startled and stared at her uncomprehendingly. She motioned for him to roll the window down, slightly ashamed that she felt more amused at startling him than she should. She could barely see over the window ledge so she hoped he could see her standing there. He frowned down at her but didn’t open the window. She motioned again; determination mixed with desperation making her insistent. He squinted at her through the glass for a moment, then pushed the door open, forcing her to step back and to the side. He was glaring at her now, obviously annoyed at having to stop what he was doing to deal with this stranger who wouldn’t leave him alone. He didn’t speak, just cocked an eyebrow at her and deepened his scowl.
Irritation flashed through her. He was being rude. Well, she guessed that she was being almost equally rude. But he was ruder. She had spent most of her adult life in the South after marrying her Alabaman husband shortly after leaving college. She’d appreciated and emulated the Southern hospitality and mannerisms immediately. Now, at 52, it was ingrained in her, a part of her being. Mulishly, she thrust her right hand at him, invading his personal space with a single step.
“I’m Penny Harden and I understand you’re in the unfortunate position of trying to find a camp cook for your upcoming Roundup.” She tried to make it sound like a polite inquiry, but she feared she had failed when he pulled back as if she’d slapped him.
To her surprise, he automatically grasped her hand and by rote, introduced himself.
“Grant Clark.” Confusion infused his voice. He seemed to realize that he had returned the unsolicited handshake and dropped her hand like it was hot.
She tried not to acknowledge how large and how warm his work-roughened hand was. She tried not to notice that his nearly all-white, yet thick hair made him look dashing and maybe a little dangerous. She tried not to be affected by intelligent smoke gray eyes now assessing her shrewdly. She tried to ignore the insanely broad chest gently rising and falling with his even breathing. She gave herself a mental, well, she hoped it was mental, shake and forced herself to focus on the task at hand. Get a job. Get a paycheck. Get out of Montana before the snow fell.
“Are you?” She queried with raised eyebrows.
“Am I what?” He frowned as if he thought she just might be a bit on the crazy side.
It was her turn to frown. Surely, she was not throwing him as much as he was her. She never had that effect on people. No, likely he couldn’t comprehend why this woman, who must look like a midget to him, was demanding his attention in the feedstore parking lot. She raised her chin, readying for battle. She’d seen the dismissive “You’re too small for anything” look far too often in her life. She knew it all too well.
“Are you looking for a camp cook for your upcoming Roundup?” She repeated frostily.
“Oh! Yes, I am. Do you know someone looking for a seasonal job outside of summer?” Grant brightened and sat up straight.
Penny just stopped the instant eye roll with a grimace and a lowering of her head. She absently wondered if she looked like a bull, even if only a miniature one, ready to charge.
“Yes sir. Me. I’m in need of a job and I grew up performing camp cook duties along with my mother for as long as I can remember.” She forced a respectful tone into her voice despite the urge to let her natural stubbornness infuse her words.
Grant was already shaking his head before she’d finished, which was irritating at best.
“No, no, I don’t think so. Roundup is no picnic and we’ll be out for a minimum of a week if all goes well, longer if it doesn’t. No place for a little thing like you.” He cocked an eyebrow at her accusingly as if it were such a ridiculous notion for her to suggest it. Apparently, he had completely missed the part about her growing up doing that very thing. “I’ll find someone as soon as I can get to it.” He cast a look that said, ‘If you would leave me alone so I can get to it.’
She had her doubts that anyone would be available in this small forgotten town that was a ways away from the Interstate and not likely to draw any of her fellow drifters at this time of year. She’d learned though, in the most disappointing ways, that one could not force one’s will onto another, regardless of one’s bleak circumstances and legitimate need of assistance from the other person.
“Well, as a person looking for work in this town, I’m not 100% sure that you will find someone willing to go out with you and your crew as it seems that just about everyone who is staying, has a job.” She didn’t add ‘Except me’ even though it echoed forlornly through her thoughts. “And I know for certain that you will not find a camp cook as skilled as I am at providing delicious food from a campfire. If you change your mind, I’m staying at the State Park horse camp just outside of town. You can’t miss me as I’m the only one left in the park that is shutting down next week.” She lifted her chin and turned on her heel, the dogfood suddenly heavy on her shoulder. She marched away, head held high, refusing to show that she was feeling the weight of more than her load. She could feel his eyes on her as she traversed the parking lot and even as she secured the dogfood to the pack saddle. She had a sneaking suspicion Grant was assessing her efforts and she subconsciously made her movements decisive and confident. Cheyenne huffed an accusatory breath at her when she angrily yanked on a lashing.
“Sorry, Shy.” She grunted apologetically. It wasn’t fair to take her frustration out on her faithful horse who would carry the heavy dogfood back to Penny’s little camper ten miles away. She reined herself in. Quite literally as she mounted Casper and gathered his reins to head out on the nearly 3-hour trip back to camp.

Grant watched the tiny spitfire of a woman with salt-and-pepper hair in thick braids trailing all the way down her back. He had to admit that she seemed to know her way around a horse as she secured the fifty-pound sack of dogfood to the Palomino mare standing patiently next to a Buckskin gelding. Both horses had been tied to the hitching rail that had been left in front of the feedstore more as a decorative piece than functional equipment. He had been surprised to see the well-cared for horses tied out front when he’d exited. He hadn’t recognized them as belonging to any of the locals, which might have given him pause if he’d not been so wrapped up in his conversation with his oldest son, Brangus. The news about Hank’s heart attack and subsequent hospitalization had been a frustrating blow. Grant was no cook at home with modern amenities but his campfire cooking skills, or lack thereof, made him look like a professional chef in the kitchen. A few of his boys could roast up a decent s’more over an open fire but they couldn’t very well live on sugar and chocolate for weeks on end. Besides, he needed them in the saddle, not back at camp trying to create something that might pass as food at the end of a long day. He could get copious amounts of jerky and protein bars he acknowledged reluctantly. His heart sunk at the thought of supper from a wrapper after having the same all day in the saddle. For the first time since his wife had passed away, ten years before, he was dreading Roundup. He hated being hungry and trying to fill the void with candy bars. At 6’5” and 300 pounds, it took a lot of food fuel to keep him going at an even keel. ‘I know for certain that you will not find a camp cook as skilled as I am at providing delicious food from a campfire.’ The woman’s confident statement rang through his swirling thoughts. What had she said her name was? Petunia? Patty? Why hadn’t he been paying attention? He watched her smoothly mount the Buckskin, despite the height of the horse, and start off toward the horse camp that he knew well. He ignored the thought that God just might have dropped the easy button in his lap, and he had refused the gift. The story in the Bible of David and Goliath came to mind, but he resolutely pushed the would-be shame away. He could find a sturdier, hardier camp cook than that. Never mind the fact that she had held a fifty-pound sack on her shoulder after chasing him across the parking lot and listened to him deny her a job that she likely needed more than she’d said since she was riding a horse instead of driving a truck like everyone else. He yanked his phone up from the console next to him and punched in the town unemployment office. He suddenly felt grouchier than he had when he’d walked out of the feedstore. He drove himself to Honey’s Diner across town while he listened to the clerk at the unemployment office tap a computer keyboard and think aloud about the possibilities of available unemployed folks.
“Do you need a housekeeper instead, by chance? I have several of those, along with bookkeepers. A few personal assistants, a property manager…” the woman on the other end of the line droned annoyingly. Why would she offer exactly what he had not asked for?
“No, ma’am. I need a campfire cook who can provide meals for twenty hungry men for up to two, maybe three weeks. Do you have any grill chefs looking for temporary work?” He interrupted her.
“No, sir. I’m sorry, we just don’t have any listed here. I can add your position to the website though and see if we get any takers that way. Most folks in this area have kids and families they need to take care of and can’t be gone that long.” The lady told him apologetically.
He found a spot in the crowded lot of the diner and parked, cutting the engine with a heavy sigh.
“Yes, please do. I should be in your database as I often hire extra help through your office.”
“Of course, Mr. Clark, we know you well and we appreciate your frequent support of our efforts to help those that are in financial hardships. I just need the start date, and I’ll get that set up for you right now.”
He provided the pertinent details and hung up as he pushed through the door of the diner. The tantalizing aroma of chili permeated the air, reminding him that it had been several hours since the hearty breakfast that Gita had made for him and his sons. His stomach rumbled and he plopped down in the only empty seat at the lunch counter, returning greetings to several of his fellow ranchers and townspeople. The conversations swirling around him all centered around Fall Roundup, the price of beef and the likelihood of an early winter.
“Grant Clark! It’s been too long since you darkened the door of this fine establishment!” Honey crowed as she slid a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. “How the heck are you, boy?”
She was twenty years his senior and he always felt as if he’d come home to visit family when he stopped in her diner. He smiled tiredly at her, feeling the pressure of trying to find someone who could provide much needed real food for his Roundup crew.
“I’ve been better, Honey. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to close up shop for a few weeks and come out to the Roundup with us, would you?” He responded morosely.
The silver-haired yet still spry despite being sixty pounds overweight older woman threw her head back and laughed outright. “Just asking that question earned you a spot at my dish bin in the back. No, sir, I’m right as rain right here in my warm cozy diner and my soft bed at the end of the day.”
His shoulders drooped and he realized that he had actually been hoping that she would agree to his half-hearted request. And yet, he had just turned down another woman who had actually offered to help. How was Honey any different than, was it Polly? Why was it so frustrating that he couldn’t remember that stranger’s name?
“Could I steal Gary from you then?” He asked hopelessly.
“You do and I’ll never serve you in this restaurant again!” Honey cried seriously. Aside from the feedstore, the diner was the busiest place in town, and she’d be lost without her cook, Gary.
“In that case, guess I’ll just take the special if it’s the chili I can smell.” He answered glumly.
Honey eyed him skeptically for a moment as if she were afraid, he really would throw a rope around Gary and haul him out of the diner in the middle of her lunch rush. She finally turned though and called through the pass-through window to the kitchen for another special.
A heavy hand came down on his shoulder and his neighboring rancher, Solomon Goode, came into view out of the corner of Grant’s eye.
“So sorry to hear about Hank, Grant. I’d offer to let you have ours but we’re rolling in the morning for our own Roundup.” The kindly rancher said sympathetically.
“I appreciate it, Sol. I understand, this is a tough time of year to try and find extra help at the last minute.” Grant really did appreciate even just the thought of offering the Goode ranch’s cook.
Several other nearby diners expressed similar sentiments and Grant’s hope of finding a “hardier” chuck wagon operator began to fade to the point of disappearing completely. He spent three hours at the diner, drinking entirely too much coffee, talking to nearly everyone in town and failing to procure a new cook. He finally gave up and headed for the ranch, determining to try and convince Gita to go with them since he was taking all the hands with him on the Roundup and the ranch would be deserted, leaving his housekeeper/cook with time on her hands. Although he couldn’t really justify asking his aging employee who was more like a mother to him instead of going in search of the one person who had made it clear she was available. Didn’t matter. For whatever reason, he was hesitant to go after the roly poly elf-like woman he’d met earlier. If he were honest, he’d admit it had something to do with eating substantial amounts of humble pie and he was in no mood to be that honest with himself. Besides, he wasn’t hungry anyway. Yet.
His pickup rumbled over the cattleguard under the simple wooden sign reading “Clark Cattle Co.” that spanned his mile-long driveway. He loved that sound. His truck tires on the cattleguard. He loved turning in off the state highway and seeing the sign that his wife had designed and had installed one year early on in their marriage when he had been away on a roundup of considerably less cattle than he had now. He blew a kiss heavenward as he drove under the sign, as he always had for the last ten years. Since he’d lost Sarah, the mother of his five sons, who would have been grandmother to two of his sons’ children so far. It still hurt to think of all that she was missing. All that she had missed already. All that he missed about her. Nearly as tall and thick as he was, she’d been so solid, working side by side with him as well or better than any man he’d ever known. She had been his partner in building their cattle business into a successful wage-earning living that provided well for their family. Day after day, she labored beside him, never batting an eye at the demanding work, blood, sweat, and tears included. Until Roundup came around. She would hug her boys and kiss Grant goodbye, then stand and watch them ride away until they were out of sight. He had always suspected that she relished the peace and quiet left behind when their rowdy brood was out of the massive log house that he had built her when she was pregnant with Brangus. The year she passed away had been the first year that their youngest son, Simmental, had finally been allowed to go on Roundup with his brothers. He was 8 years old but thought he was a man. No one knew how much it had cost Sarah to allow her baby to go with the big boys. Except Grant. He’d caught the glisten of tears in her brown eyes before she hid her face behind her long brown hair. He’d never seen a tear in her eye before that moment. Not even when her own father had passed away of the same brain aneurysm that had eventually taken her life. He’d known Sarah since Kindergarten and no one ever questioned whether they would end up together, including himself. When they amazingly won a big lottery shortly after they married and he told his quiet and steady wife that he had been dreaming of becoming a cattle rancher in Montana, she’d sighed softly and tried to hide her disappointment at the thought of leaving her large family in Idaho, denying her mother the opportunity to be in her grandchildren’s lives. She had smiled bravely at him and simply said “Okay Grant. Let’s do it.” They’d stumbled across the beginning parcel of land that the house sat on now and scored an amazing deal as the previous owner had died and his family had wanted out of ranching. He’d conducted exhaustive research on how to run a successful cattle business and Sarah had done even more studying, in fact, never ceasing to bring new ideas to him that were projected to increase their gains and streamline their operations. He’d learned early that she struggled to speak up, preferring instead to offer quiet support. He had made a concentrated effort to allow her uninterrupted time to express whatever new notion she had come across to help the ranch grow. And because he’d known how hard it was for her to speak up, he tried every idea she brought him so that she would know that her efforts were appreciated. None of her ideas had ever failed to bring a return. He missed that too. He’d felt like he was floundering in every aspect of his life after losing Sarah. As a father, as a rancher, as a man. He’d hired Gita within a month of the funeral. He’d been non-functioning for the first few weeks but though his boys were just as heartbroken as he was, they still had to eat, and Grant had instinctively known that he couldn’t feed them frozen pizza forever. Gita had been hired as a housekeeper and cook but had essentially helped Grant finish raising his boys. Simmental, or rather Simmey as the boy preferred to be called had graduated High School a few months before. Grant figured Simmey was fully grown now though he wasn’t sure that he and Gita had done all they could since the boy refused to go to college or join the military. Simmey was determined to work alongside his father and brothers on the ranch. Maybe college wasn’t so important though since Grant was able to give the boy a steady paycheck too like his brothers. He just didn’t want any of his children to be destitute like he’d been raised. He knew what it was like to not be able to buy groceries or pay the utility bills. He knew what it was like to have good-hearted people from church bring boxes of food, clothes and presents at Christmas. When he’d won just enough in the lottery to put a healthy down payment on some land a few months after marrying Sarah, he hadn’t been able to believe that his dream of owning a cattle ranch would come true. Even now, more than thirty years later, he still couldn’t believe that he was a legitimate rancher, looking at the herd of roping horses in the field leading up to the huge barn that housed twenty horses in winter, an entire year’s worth of hay and quarters for the few hands that remained on the ranch year-round. The breeding cows on the other side of the drive in the pasture leading up to the eight-bedroom house built out of logs from forests on his land. Land that had expanded from that original 1,000 acres that he lucked upon to 100,000 acres that his cattle grazed on now.
He pulled his top-of-the-line truck that he’d bought only a few years ago to a stop in front of the house. All six of his cattle dogs greeted him noisily as he stepped down. Three other trucks crowded the parking area in front of the house and two more were parked beside the barn. The boys must’ve stopped for the day early. He didn’t mind really. Though a rancher’s work never ceased, he’d gone along with Sarah’s insistence that they are available to relax sometimes and have a meal together as often as possible. She’d told him that she had watched neighboring ranchers work themselves to death and end up fighting the same battles that the Clark’s fought with lesser results. She’d watched marriages fall apart and children end up resenting their parents because there was never anything but back-breaking all-consuming work, only to have ranches fail anyway. Yes, he and his boys put in far longer working hours than the average working American, but as an homage to the late matriarch of their family, they still gathered at least once a week for dinner. Granted, most of the conversation was ranch work related, but at least they stepped out of the saddle, turned off the tractor and sat down for a meal with clean hands. Brangus and the twins, Hereford, and Braford had gone away to college but Brahma, his second son, had done a six-year stint in the military as a combat medic instead. The experience had left him a little pensive and brooding much to Grant’s concern. Brahm, as the boys had taken to calling Brahma, was too much like his mother to talk about what was bothering him when he came home. The twins had just finished college with degrees in agricultural science and business administration, respectively and run back to the ranch as fast as their beat-up pickups would carry them. The boys had been in and out through the years, but one thing remained the same: Family dinners. Though Grant hadn’t had the heart to put them on after losing Sarah, he hadn’t had the heart to stop them either. For a few years after his wife’s death, Brangus, otherwise called Gus by his brothers, as the oldest, had taken it upon himself to ensure that everyone gathered around the table on a regular basis. But when he married his college sweetheart and moved into town with her, Grant had forced himself to continue his wife’s legacy.
Now, he could hear a cacophony of male voices coming from the kitchen, punctuated occasionally by Gita’s soft laugh. She loved his boys as if they were her own and they loved her just the same. She was a quiet woman too but could never resist the antics of his brood. Hereford, more commonly known as Ford, must be in fine form tonight as his brothers were laughing too. The group instantly sobered when Grant rounded the corner. That bothered him. Since when had laughing been taboo? Had he really failed to appreciate humor for the last decade? The thought of the bustling little woman accosting him at the feedstore sent the tickle of a chuckle into his throat. It concerned him more that it was a foreign sensation. He cleared his throat even though all eyes were already on him. Focus on the task at hand. That’s right. Convince Gita to follow them into the wilderness that made up his ranch.
“Hey Pop. Did you find someone to take Hank’s place?” Ford asked directly. He always got right to the heart of the matter. Simmey and Braford, nicknamed Bray, fixed expectant gazes on him and Gita kept brushing melted butter on the rolls that she must have just pulled from the oven. Gus must’ve already headed home to his wife as he was missing from the gathering. Brahm was only at the ranch when he wasn’t on shift with the ambulance company in town. He would take vacation time to join his father and brothers on the Roundup.
“No, son, I didn’t.” He stated simply, unable to keep his gaze from fixing on Gita.
The boys stared at him in shocked silence. He knew they looked up to him and he prided himself in always being able to fix any situation that had gone south. Though his sons were grown men, he knew that they looked at him as if there was nothing he couldn’t do. He refused to acknowledge that he might not be able to fix this one. Afterall, he hadn’t exhausted every option yet.
“Gita.” Grant stated.
She looked up at him, startled. He didn’t often say her name, especially when the boys were around, and conversation was flowing.
“I need you to go on the Roundup with us.” It wasn’t a request and Grant cringed at the commanding tone.
She shook her head vehemently. “No, sir. I can’t.”
He waited for her to offer an explanation and he grew agitated when she simply stared at him with big eyes.
“Gita, none of us can cook and I don’t think I’ll get decent work out of these boys with empty bellies and only beef jerky and Pop-Tarts to fill the void. We need you!” He heard the desperation in his own voice. All three of his sons fixed her with hopeful looks, undoubtedly praying they wouldn’t have to subsist on dry goods from a wrapper for days on end.
“I already have tickets to go to my home.” Gita explained sadly. “I guess I could postpone my trip…” She looked like she might cry.
Grant shook his head decisively. He knew it had been several years since she’d been back to visit her family in Sweden and regardless of his plight, he would not ask her to cancel her trip. How had he forgotten that she’d told him she was going to be gone for a month?
“No, ma’am. I’m sorry that I forgot about that. We will figure something out. I would never ask you to give up the opportunity to see your family.” He couldn’t help but let the disappointment he felt seep into his words. He was out of options. Well, at least out of options that he wanted. He’d go back to town in the morning and find the little sprite that had offered to accompany the Clarks on their Roundup. He’d better skip breakfast because humble pie was a heavy dish.

Penny could hear The General whining inside the camper they lived in as she unsaddled Casper and Cheyenne, as if he knew she came bearing food and wanted some of it immediately. She laughingly shushed him from where she was tending to her horses. It wasn’t as if her 145-pound Rottweiler was starving. At the same weight as Penny herself, the dog was even a little overweight. Well, like pet like owner if she was honest. She lifted her chin. So what? She was 52 years old and had borne three kids. Of course, she couldn’t really claim post-partum weight anymore. Her baby was 30 years old, and she should just admit that it was possible that she allowed herself to indulge in her own good cooking a few too many times a week to be at her ideal weight for her 5-foot petite frame. Again, so what? She wasn’t trying to impress anyone and after her husband’s sudden death three years before, she adopted a “Life is short” mantra and allowed herself small pleasures when the opportunity presented itself. Some would say that one should show some restraint in life, but those same people also said that she should just move into one of her kids’ homes and behave as society said that a middle-aged woman of limited means, should. Penny didn’t like societal rules. Those rules were boring. Besides, she’d been a relative prisoner during her marriage. As awful as it sounded, her husband’s death had set her free and she intended to enjoy that freedom until she died. Much to the chagrin of her children. It wasn’t as if her husband had been particularly cruel. He’d never hit her or cheated on her that she knew of. He’d been controlling though and apathetic, withholding the affection that she had so desperately needed. She’d never been on a vacation before she bought the Class B motorhome that was just big enough for her and Sir, as she referred to her dog. So, now, she was determined to live life on her own terms.
She tethered the horses and made sure they had fresh water and hay. Though there was a chilly wind blowing down out of the mountains, there was no rain in the forecast for tonight, so she felt it was safe to leave the horses out of the trailer. She thought of her kids as she worked. The phone call from Brandy, her oldest, that she had received while on her way back to camp, played on loop in her mind.
“Mama, just come stay with me for the winter. I know you hate the cold. I can send you some gas money if you need it.” Her daughter had not even attempted to hide her frustration with her mother’s wandering ways.
“Baby, I cannot move in with you and Franco. You’re just starting out and I’m sure he won’t appreciate having his mother-in-law underfoot. Besides, you need to focus on turning that extra room into a nursery.” Penny had responded with the same answer she’d given every time her daughter tried to get her to come off the road. Brandy was the most like her father, Tom, out of all of the kids. Penny liked her son-in-law, and he didn’t seem to mind having her around. She wanted to keep it that way. Plus, she couldn’t bend to Brandy’s wishes. The girl knew that she had inherited some of her father’s character flaws and worked regularly on taming them for the sake of those around her, but Penny was in a good place with both her daughter and herself. She wouldn’t stay with Brandy and Franco so that she could stay in that good place.
“You’re still coming in the Spring when the baby comes, right?” Brandy’s voice was full of doubt as if she suspected her mother had become too flighty to be counted on when needed. The moment she had told Penny that she was expecting her first child, Brandy had fairly begged her to promise to be on hand for the birth. Brandy was having her first child a little later than most, at 34. She was terrified about everything from the birth to being a first-time mom.
It smarted, that her daughter thought her mother would fail her, abandon her in the most terrifying moment of her life. Penny understood her fear, but it didn’t make the doubt hurt any less. She had made “mandatory” appearances at weddings and holidays in the last three years but had been otherwise absent from her family’s lives. Oddly enough, though the lack of companionship and affection had been her chief complaint in her marriage, she was thriving emotionally with only Sir and the horses to keep her company while she floated along on the wind. But there was no way that if Penny were still breathing when the baby came, she would miss the birth of her first grandchild.
“Not even wild horses can keep me away, honey. I’ll be there as long as you need me. I’m heading your way at the end of March so that I can be nearby for whenever your baby wants to show up.” Penny had repeated herself again. She hadn’t meant it any less than the first time she’d said it.
She sighed heavily as she headed into her camper with the dog food once again draped over her shoulder. She wondered how she would manage being stationary for an extended amount of time, at the whim and fancy of her demanding daughter. She averaged about a month in any given place, just long enough to earn enough gas and grocery money to move on down the road. She had immediately begun spending her summer months along the northern border of the United States when she hit the road. As much as she disliked winter weather, she also couldn’t handle the hot temperatures of summer in the southern portion of the country. She was decidedly a fair-weather-friend.
Sir’s heavy body thumped into her excitedly as she stepped up into the camper, nearly tripping her. She laughed as she pushed him away, trying to infuse her voice with authority when admonishing him to behave. She’d bought the Rottie as soon as she’d made the decision to spend the rest of her days exploring the big, beautiful world God had created. Her children’s concern for her safety alone on the road had spurred her to find a protective dog breed. She’d researched carefully to find a legitimate Rottweiler breeding farm and made her maiden voyage in the Independence, the name she’d given her camper, across the country to pick him up. She had realized immediately that she needed to learn how to train him to not only be a guard dog, but a loving companion as well. The farm owners had gladly accepted her offer to work with their dogs and puppies for free in exchange for a place to park her camper and training her new fur baby. She’d stayed with them for the first six months of Sir’s life and been blessed with the Puppy Pen attendant job. She’d loved almost every second of it, but the overwhelming desire to move on and see new things that she’d only read about before, drove her to say good-bye even though the owners had wanted her to stay. They hadn’t understood her need to wander any more than her children had but they had kindly given her a small severance to help fuel her trip.
“Calm down, Sir!” She couldn’t help but laugh at the dancing dog happily wagging his entire body in his delight that she had returned. “Let me get in the house so I can feed you dinner you knucklehead!”
The dog grinned at her, belying his severe appearance, and stepped back obediently. She loved this guy so completely. He was her constant, her steady supporter. He adored her in return. She marveled at the way he could switch so easily from a solid rock, stoic protector to the goofy, grinning pup before her now. She rarely had to command him to earn his official name, The General. He instinctively knew when to protect and when to play. She’d watched him chasing a ball one moment and instantly morphing into guard mode the next when he perceived a threat of any kind. She always felt safe with him nearby. It was the one drawback of using the horses as transportation instead of driving the camper to the grocery store. If it was too far, in her mind, for Sir to run alongside, she left him in the camper because he’d been indignant the one time, she had tried to drape him over her saddle. She ripped the bag open and filled his bowl before emptying the remaining food into the bin she kept under the rarely used dinette table. She preferred to take her meals in her recliner with a book or a well-used DVD playing on the TV.
Tonight, however, her eyes fixed on the small laptop her second daughter, Ally, had insisted on giving her before she’d rolled out of her driveway. It was still sitting on the table where Penny had left it a week before when she’d been trying to balance her account. Penny had fussed when Ally had given it to her, declaring it too expensive a gift and tried to give her daughter money for it. Ally had been offended and said that she had to upgrade anyway for her new tech job. Penny had shut her mouth and given the girl a tight hug. She wasn’t particularly fond of technology and wondered how her daughter had come to be somewhat of a guru with computers. She’d learned as best she could how to operate it but probably still used it at only a tenth of its capacity. All the same, she’d later purchased a printer to go with it, which took up the other half of the table. She couldn’t deny that even while she’d been on the phone with Brandy on her way back to camp, she’d been daydreaming about a possible crowd-pleasing menu that could be cooked over a campfire. She rolled her eyes at her own ridiculousness and stomped toward the small fridge that she already knew held very few meal offerings. She yanked the door open anyway, already knowing that it was going to be a canned green bean and one slice of chopped bologna soup kind of night. Not her favorite, but at least she wouldn’t go to bed with an empty belly as she had many times before. Far be it from her to complain about the ‘manna’ from Heaven that God provided. “Thank You, Lord Jesus that I at least have something to eat tonight.” She murmured as she closed the door and turned to fill her one pot with water to start the soup.
As hard as she tried to occupy herself with creating a broth to add the bologna and beans to, her gaze kept straying to the laptop. She kept shaking herself, telling herself to stop thinking about the menu that wouldn’t be needed because the obstinate Mr. Clark had dismissed her as easily as swatting a mosquito. He’d even been honest and told her he thought her too small for such a big job. She suspected that he’d taken one look at her salt and pepper braids and deemed her too old too. She was just going to make herself crazy thinking about the lost opportunity, which apparently hadn’t been hers to begin with. She turned the flame to low under her pot and looked around for anything else to focus on. Maybe Sir needed a good brushing. She glanced down at him as he happily munched his food. He would not welcome the brush at this moment. She’d cleaned the tiny space the night before, trying to take her mind off her predicament and made her bed that morning before heading for town. She didn’t even have any dishes to wash yet. Again, she found herself staring at the laptop.
“Ugh!” She huffed and plunked down on the uncomfortable dinette bench seat, lifting the laptop lid with a groan. “No sense in trying to ignore this. I’m just going to end up doing it eventually anyway.”
Sir stopped licking his now empty bowl to cock his head at her as if he too questioned her sanity. She deliberately kept her gaze locked on the Excel sheet that her fingers were already populating.
Two hours flew by before she found herself scooping a neat, color-coded and carefully sectioned menu plan including supplies needed, out of the tray of her printer. What on earth was wrong with her? The man had decidedly turned her down. Yes, but since there were no other jobs available in this town that she was now stuck in, it would seem that there were no other people looking for work like her. Okay, probably just wishful thinking on her part, but she couldn’t help but remember the scripture in Matthew 24: “So you also must be ready, because the Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect him.” Not that she thought Mr. Clark to be the Son of Man, but rather she thought he might be forced to accept her offer and she wasn’t sure when that would be. She wanted, no, needed to be ready should that happen. Yeah, sure, that was why she had created and printed a 14-day menu for thirty people, three meals a day. Ready, set, go…straight to the looney bin. She rolled her eyes and dropped the printout back into the tray. She could use it to start a fire in the morning if it was still cool. The weather in this part of Montana changed in an instant. She had learned very quickly to always have a jacket handy and to dress in layers that could be removed as needed.
“But you, keep your head in all situations, endure hardship, do the work of an evangelist, discharge all your duties of your ministry.” The verse in 2 Timothy 4 floated into her jumbled thoughts. Keep your head, endure hardship, do the work. Not that she fancied herself an evangelist, but God had directed His people to minister to the people around them, regardless of where they were. Paul had ministered to his captors when he was in prison. Jesus had ministered to prostitutes and those who had been rejected by society.
An idea began to form into a plan before she’d had a chance to acknowledge it. She looked at the professional looking menu in the printer tray. She smiled. She would take it to town tomorrow and try to find Mr. Grant Clark. She would hand it to him and hope that the work she had done would convince him to allow her to minister to his Roundup crew with food. And hopefully, he would pay her for her work too. That would be a major bonus on top of her realizing her childhood dream of being a real cowgirl, working a herd of cattle.
Grant tried to delay going back into town again so soon. Yeah, that was it. He usually only went to town once a month or so. Gita did all the grocery shopping and the boys often brought back whatever else was needed. He’d only gone the day before because his horse, Thunder, had been startled by a snake as he was tied to the corral rail and destroyed his bridle’s headstall as he yanked and jerked in his panic. The horse, who stood at an impressive 17 hands high and was built like a brickhouse, was too strong for his own good and had not only been able to free himself while stomping the snake to death, but he had ripped apart an entire section of the corral fence. Grant was still trying to learn to love and trust the three-year-old and couldn’t deny that this latest incident had not helped their struggling relationship in the least. He’d honestly just sealed off the corral so that none of the horses could get out and jumped in his truck, roaring off for town to avoid breaking something or sending the horse away before things went from bad to worse. Of course, he could understand the horse’s need to neutralize the threat. Grant himself had never handled a situation involving a snake any better than Thunder had. He’d never admit it out loud, but snakes gave him the heebie jeebies. He’d narrowly missed being bitten by a rattlesnake when he was a boy and had not been able to abide them since.
At any rate, the unscheduled trip to town had been dismal at best. And now, he knew he had to go back again today. And it wouldn’t be any less dismal. He swigged a gulp of lukewarm coffee and immediately spat it back out. If the coffee was cooling from this morning’s brew, he’d drug his feet long enough. His boys had made it collectively clear that the idea of protein bars for every meal was not an option they considered “viable”. It was time to go find the woman that he did not want to find and hire her for a job he did not want her to do. If she was still willing. Which she might not be since he’d dismissed her so unceremoniously. He couldn’t help but feel hopeful that she wouldn’t have him…wouldn’t accept the job that is. He huffed his disgust. Yeah, he couldn’t help that he had noticed that though she carried a few extra pounds, she was kind of cute. In an annoying and condescending way. Yeah. Annoying was the key word. If, and that was a big if, she was still available and accepted his reluctant offer, it would be a very annoying Fall Roundup this year.
He almost turned around a dozen times before he drove into the deserted State Park campground. A dozen more before he found the Horse Camp loop. Remembering his sons’ distraught faces propelled him into the camp though he was quite certain that he had never driven his big work truck so slowly, below the posted 15 mph speed limit even. It felt as though he was pulling a fully loaded cattle trailer with his own strength as he crept around the loop. He’d just begun to think that the woman had left when he came around a curve and saw a lone motorhome with a horse trailer attached. He couldn’t look too closely at why the thought of her being gone had been exponentially more disappointing than he’d thought possible. He coasted to a stop in the road, spotting the two beautiful horses he’d seen the day before, but not seeing the woman at first glance. He hesitated before reaching to turn off the diesel engine. Man, he really did not want to do this. He heaved a sigh and forced himself out of the truck. He was parked directly in the road in front of the camper, but he figured it would be okay since there had not even been a Park Ranger at the check-in station. He trudged around the front of his truck but stopped dead in his tracks when a deep throaty growl sounded near the horses. A massive Rottweiler stood at attention between Grant and the horses. He looked ready to spring into action, should Grant take another step, which he had no intention of doing. He was, after all, the intruder here and the dog was simply guarding his people, doing his job. For whatever reason, Grant was relieved to know that the little woman had protection. Again, another thought he would not be looking too closely at.
“Hello the camp!” Grant called toward the camper without taking his eyes off the dog who in turn was doing the same to him. He startled when the woman he’d come to find poked her head under the Buckskin’s neck.
“Mr. Clark. I must say, I am quite surprised to see you here today.” She arched an eyebrow at him as if she thought he owed her an apology and quite possibly expected one even if he didn’t. She resumed brushing the corded neck of her horse. The Buckskin wasn’t particularly tall, probably only about 15 hands, but she still had to reach up with the brush.
He stifled a sigh. He wasn’t ready to lead with an apology even though he knew he should. Groveling just wasn’t his style and he’d rather not.
“May I approach, ma’am?” He asked, carefully eyeing her guardian who hadn’t moved.
She tipped her head to eye him disinterestedly under her mount’s jaw. Both horses had their heads high as if they too were on alert and readying for battle. It was quite the impressive security team this little lady had gathered around her. He couldn’t help but be a bit envious that both her horses seemed as fiercely loyal as the protective dog. He wished Thunder would swear such allegiance to him.
“I’m not sure The General will allow it, mister.” She inclined her head to the Rottie whose ear twitched toward her at the mention of his name. “Maybe you should state your business from where you stand.”
Was that amusement in her eyes? Had her lips really just twitched with the effort of holding back a smile? And why on earth was he looking at her lips? He clenched his jaw. Get to the task at hand. Open your mouth and ask if she still needs a job. Get a cook for the Roundup and get home. Simple. Yeah, right. There would be nothing simple about any of this.
He cleared his throat and had to force words out of his mouth. “I was wondering if you are still in need of temporary employment?” It felt like there was barb wire in his throat. Maybe he was coming down with something. Great. Add a cold on top of what was shaping up to be the worst Roundup in Clark Cattle Company history.
Mild surprise flared in her blue eyes, but she quickly turned away, trying to hide her reaction. She didn’t speak for a moment and Grant thought that she might not. She went still and he found himself holding his breath, now suddenly hopeful that his search would end here.
“Sir, heel.” She commanded as she stepped out from behind the Buckskin. The horse snorted his disapproval, and the Palomino blew out an equally disapproving grunt. The dog did not hesitate to obey but kept his eyes glued to Grant as he followed his mistress to the camper.
Grant wanted to smile at the wisdom of her pets but couldn’t dismiss the alarm that rang through him as it seemed she wouldn’t answer, but rather lock herself in her RV, essentially telling him to go away and leave her alone. But when the woman didn’t slam the door behind her, he chanced shuffling his feet and turning that direction, even though the dog still stood guard in the doorway. He peered into the dim interior of the small rig.
He almost jumped backwards when she materialized from the shadows with a colorful paper in her hand. She stopped behind her canine, hesitation on her face.
“Again, I’m surprised to see you here. I guess I was right about the scarcity of available cooks?” She goaded. “I’m surprised you remembered that I said I was staying here, as it really didn’t seem like you were listening to me at all yesterday when I offered my assistance.”
He felt his face immediately drop into a scowl that would have intimidated anyone else. He suspected it would have little effect on her, but he wasn’t intentionally scowling, nor could he make himself stop.
She pursed her lips. “Do you remember anything else about our ‘conversation’?” She asked, air quoting sarcastically with her fingers.
He blinked at her. What in the world was she talking about?
She shot him a sardonic half-smile. “Like my name for instance?” She prodded.
His heart sunk. How could she expect him to remember that? Their interaction had been so brief. That wasn’t fair and he hoped that it wasn’t criteria for her accepting the job.
She’d seen what he hadn’t said. She rolled her eyes and huffed a disgusted breath. She stepped around the dog that was trying to block her from exiting the camper and came toward him with the paper held out in front of her.
He stood staring at her like an idiot. He didn’t move or speak. He seriously could not understand what was happening at this moment. She shook the paper at him impatiently and once again he found himself automatically accepting something she was holding out to him. He glanced down at the colorful sections and words like ‘thirty,’ ‘meals’ and ‘burritos’ jumped out at him.
“What is this?” He looked back up at her quizzically.
“It’s a menu. For camp…” She admitted guiltily and tucked her lips between her teeth. “I was about to head to town and try to find you.”
“What?” He asked stupidly.
“I just thought you might still need me…er, a camp cook…” She stammered.
He was shocked that she seemed uncertain and uncomfortable. Yeah, he couldn’t remember her name, but he remembered quite clearly that she projected confidence and assurance. She’d left that undeniable impression without even trying. He looked back down at the paper he held and the carefully considered plan came into focus. She’d even projected how much food and supplies she’d need to run the chuck wagon. Hank had never given him anything like this. He’d simply filled the chuck wagon with standard items and made sure the cowboys had a warm dinner every night when they returned to camp. Grant’s mouth fairly watered when he realized that she intended to feed them three meals a day. His head was nodding of its own accord before he even looked back up at her.
“Okay. Okay. Yes, this will work.” Apparently, he’d forgotten how to speak in complete sentences.
She grinned triumphantly at him. “It’s Penny, by the way.”
He blinked again. She’d lost him.
“My name.” She arched an eyebrow at him again, amusement twitching the corners of her mouth. “Penelope Harden if you plan to pay me by check.”
His mouth dropped open, and he stared at her in disbelief. “You’ll do it? Even though I was so…” He searched for the right word. “Such a…an old goat about your offer yesterday?” He could hardly believe his ears.
She full on grinned at him now, obviously feeling somewhat vindicated by his half-hearted, not quite an apology.
“Well, let’s just say this is your last one more. No more underestimating me because I’m small. I am small but I am mighty, and I assure you that I will never give you a reason to doubt that.” She sobered and lifted her chin, a challenge shining in her eyes.
A need to accept her challenge or issue one of his own warred with a sudden overwhelming desire to acquiesce to whatever this dynamo requested. Grant was in foreign territory. He was the commander of every situation, and everyone did his bidding because he’d earned their trust and respect. But at this moment, he felt like a fish out of water.
He sighed. He really did not like this feeling. “So, we leave on Monday for Roundup. We have a few things to wrap up at the ranch before we go, or we’d be leaving sooner. Is that enough time for you to gather what you need?” He waved her menu plan toward her.
She drew a breath and looked skyward as if she were mentally calculating the limited time left for prep against the menu.
“Today is Wednesday. Do y’all get supplies here or do you make runs to a bigger town?” She cocked her head at him.
Why did he find that interesting along with her Southern accent? Why was he noticing? And why was he having a tough time producing an intelligent answer?
“Uh, I’m not sure. My housekeeper and cook does all our supply runs and I’m not really sure where she goes. Could you come out to the ranch and meet up with her? Maybe she can help.” It was the best he could come up with.
Penny shot a look at her horses who were standing patiently where she’d left them tied. “How far out is your ranch?”
“We’re about thirty miles out.”
“Oh. Well, if I ride, that will take me about nine hours to get there which is essentially an entire day of prepping.” She paused and eyed him skeptically. “Remember I told you the park was shutting down for the winter next week?” She asked. She laughed. “Of course, you don’t remember that. Anyway, I’ll have nowhere to park my rig,” she hooked a thumb over her shoulder toward the camper. “Would it be a problem if I brought everything out there today?” She swept her hand around her site.
“Everything?” He asked uncomprehendingly.
One eyebrow bounced up and she frowned. “Yes. My camper, horse trailer, horses and of course, Sir.” She pointed at her guardian. “I have to bring him with me ya know. We get anxious without each other.”
He started to shake his head but stopped. Neither one of them really had a choice. Great. A dog that clearly did not trust him, two extra horses and a female all at the same time on Roundup. For the first time ever. He hoped his cattle dogs wouldn’t tear the Rottie to pieces.
She misinterpreted his hesitation. “I’ll stay in my RV. I won’t be underfoot in your house. I would never expect that…well, I guess I’ll be underfoot in the kitchen all day while I prep…I’m going to prepare a lot of meals and freeze so they’ll keep better…” She rambled.
He held up a hand to stop the flow of her chatter. “Yeah, sure, whatever works. Whatever supplies you need, just charge to the ranch. Gita, my housekeeper, will show you where to shop or whatever.” He frowned. “The horses can’t come on Roundup. You’re not cowgirling out there. We have an old military vehicle we bought at auction that serves as our chuck wagon. With your plan,” He waved the sheet at her again. “You’ll be busy at camp all the time. Plus, you must keep your dog under control. We can’t have him getting in the way when we’re trying to bring a herd in.”
She looked offended. Again. Great.
“Sir is a highly trained, well-behaved gentleman. He won’t be a problem.” She huffed. “Will there be a place to keep the horses? Will there still be someone at the ranch to feed and water them?” She lifted her chin again, but it seemed that disappointment was weighing heavily on her. “I have my own feed.” She added hastily.
He felt ashamed but he wasn’t sure what for. A distaste for disappointing her formed in his chest. Which was silly. She would be his employee and it shouldn’t matter if she didn’t like the way he did things. All the same, a reassurance sprung to his lips.
“We always have two hands left back to take care of the day-to-day details. It shouldn’t be too much trouble for them to take care of a few more head.” His tone was a bit more exasperated than he’d intended.
“I can pay them once you pay me.” Her chin jutted stubbornly.
Grant frowned again. He’d not meant to make it seem that she would need to do that. He wasn’t sure what to say, so he shook his head. He was ready to be done with this awkward conversation in which he seemed unable to say anything the way he wanted to.
“Do you have your phone on you so you can type in my address?” He asked. He wouldn’t be waiting around while she packed up so he could lead her in. GPS always took people straight to his place, so he hoped she had some technical savvy, at least enough to operate the directions app.
She whipped a smartphone out of her back jeans pocket and held it at the ready with an expression that said he may have questioned her intellect aloud. He cringed but recited his address and beat a hasty retreat to his truck, hoping she wouldn’t take off her little boot and throw it at him.

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