The Present - Cover

The Present

Copyright© 2019 by Mark Randall

Chapter 1

Suzy and I had been up on the mountain for a year. Well, at least the winter. It was when we started planning our resupply run when a problem raised its head. Suzy needed a horse.

We had spent the winter with her on Margarite and me riding Jughead, which had been satisfactory with the small amount of riding we did during snow season. But now we were going to need Jughead in his primary job as the pack mule.

I had checked around Elk City, and the pickings were mighty slim. So, before we went any further, we decided it was time for a shopping trip. We could combine our resupply chores with a horse hunt.

The first stop was Boise. I wanted to see Pete and make sure he was doing alright. Other than an added 10 pounds, he seemed to be happy. I know the three crumb crunchers crawling all over him were happier than puppies in a ball pit.

Pete didn’t know of any ‘suitable’ horses in the area, but he suggested we head up to the Bar T and talk to the new boss. I thought it over for a bit and decided that would be our next stop.

As we drove up the valley road, I was impressed. The front fence line had been replaced, and new wire put in. What stock I could see looked fat, dumb, and happy. Just like I wanted cattle to be. When I got up the ranch house, I was again impressed. It looked new. A young kid, 15 or 16, came running up.

He was all smiles, “Can I help you, folks?”

“Well, I’m looking for Agnes, the camp cook. She’ll know who I am.”

“Oh, I think I recognize you. You’re Matt Reynolds, both Agnes and Pete have talked about you. Hang on while I let Agnes know you’re here.” before I could say anything, the kid took off running towards the mess hall.

This kid was high speed and low drag.

By the time I had handed Suzy out of the truck, I heard a scream, “Matt, Suzy. It’s about damn time you got here.” Agnes ran up, hugs, and kisses shared all the way around.

“Carl,” Agnes turned to the kid, “Go get your mom and dad. I know they’ll want to meet our guests.”

“On the way, Agnes. Dad’s up on the north range. Can I use the quad to go get him?” I could see that this kid had been waiting for any excuse to use ‘the quad.’ And I had no idea what it was.

“Ask your momma, Carl. You remember what happened the last time?”

“I’ll ask, but I know she’ll say yes. That wreck was Donny’s fault. He’s still on restriction.”

“Well, you be sure to ask. I don’t want to find out you had lied to me.”

“You got it, Agnes.” this was as the kid took off in another burst of energy that I hadn’t had in 30 years.

Halfway back to the house, he was intercepted by a blond woman that looked to be in her mid to late 30’s. Slim and easy on the eyes. They talked for a minute, and the kid continued on an altered course towards the barn.

As the woman walked up, she introduced herself. “Hi, I’m Marsha Taggart. And you are the infamous Matt Reynolds.”

Because she had a smile on her face, I felt somewhat safe. I reached out my hand to shake and had my hand firmly gripped. “Ms. Taggart, a pleasure to meet you. This is Suzy Williams.” I indicated Suzy, who, for some reason, had been hanging back.

“Suzy, a pleasure to meet you.” she held her arms out, and in a typical female fashion, they started hugging. Almost immediately, Agnes joined in, and a female bonding moment happened. From what I understand, three women, unknown to each other, can break speed records becoming friends. I didn’t have a timer, but it was obvious that these 3 were now fast and permanent friends.

We were interrupted by Carl tearing out of the barn on, what I assume, was a quad. I’m sure that you know what a quad is, but I was somewhat clueless. I had seen pretty much every form of mechanical propulsion, including some oddball stuff when I was in the desert with uncle sam. This thing looked like the dune buggies that I had seen the special forces people using. But without the machine guns, grenade launchers and radio antennas.

Carl came tearing out of that barn-like the hounds of hell were after him. That is until he saw that universal stop sign all males are well aware of. Mom, standing there with her fists on her hips. Carl immediately slowed down and proceeded on his mission at a mom-approved speed.

“I don’t know which is worse, the boys or the girls. It seems like all of them are out to turn my hair grey.”

“How many kids do you have?” Suzy asked

“Four, two boys and two girls. They’re on summer break right now, school starts in 3 weeks, thank god. Of course, the baby isn’t all that much trouble. And her big sister, Amber, has taken on a lot of those chores. The boy’s, well, Carl’s the older boy, and his younger brother Donny adores him. But let’s get out of this heat. Agnes, could you bring us some lemonade to the main house. I’m sure that we could all use something cool. Don’t forget Bruce either. He’ll be especially thirsty.”

As we walked up to the main house, I could see that it had been freshly painted, and someone, Marsha obviously, had added some welcome flowers and plants. Before, when I was a resident, Agnes was the only female on the property. And all that male atmosphere was reflected in the landscaping. Or lack of I should say. I could rightly say that the place was significantly improved with the help of Ms. Taggart’s hand.

Stepping up on the porch, I noticed that this had also seen improvement. The one thing that I had always felt was an architectural requirement for a ranch house, was a wraparound porch. Something that could seat a boy and girl sparking in the glider, up to the family gathering for summer get-togethers. This one fit my bill, and then some. It went around three sides of the house. And maybe the back, which I couldn’t see. Ten feet wide, with a waist-high railing. Substantial enough for a 300-pound cowboy to park his butt and enjoy those gentle country breezes.

Ms. Taggart directed us to a wicker patio set. As we were seated, Agnes joined us with two large frosted pitchers and a half dozen glasses. She set the platter on the table, and while she seated herself, Ms. Taggart started serving.

As she handed me my glass, she said, “Let’s get this straight right now, Matt. I can see in your eyes. You keep thinking of me as Ms. Taggart.” before I could say anything, she continued. “To you, and Suzy, I am Marsha. And my husband is Bruce. We already consider you as family, and I won’t accept anything less. If you are willing, both my husband and I would be honored to have you include us in your family.”

I had to take a moment. Glancing over to Suzy, she was smiling at me, and I assumed this was what she wanted. “Marsha, I would be honored by you and your husband’s friendship. I don’t quite know what else to say, other than thank you.”

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