A Ranch To Call Home

“Where are you going, Bingham?”

“To get a breath of fresh air, is all.”

“I’ll go with you.” Jesse sat up. He’d bet his new herd that fresh air wasn’t all the kid wanted.

“You don’t need to, Mr. Creed. I’ve been breathing on my own since I was born.”

“You walk around in this town with that smart mouth and someone will shoot you as soon as answer.”

“The Underwood brothers come to Black Creek all the time. No one’s shot them yet.”

“Not yet. Put on your coat.” Jesse could lecture the boy all night and not teach him as much as a walk through the streets of this sordid town would.

Once outside, Jesse regretted the need to teach the kid this way. The air was bitter cold. A breeze twirled puffs of dust down the road. He shrugged closer into his coat, hugged the lapels across his throat.

If Bingham was cold, he didn’t show it. All he seemed to notice were two women waving to him from the upper balcony of the saloon.

Jesse resisted the urge to wave back. These were not the women who raised him. Those ladies had doted upon him, loved him freely. He’d come to find out later in life that most soiled doves were not like the ones who had brought him up. With most of those adrift souls, nothing was given for free.

“How about we go inside, have a drink?” Bingham stepped toward the open front door where bawdy sounds spilled into the night.

No doubt it all sounded like a fine time to the boy. Jesse had thought the same at his age. Cold crept through the soles of his boots. It wouldn’t be long before his toes went numb.

Jesse grabbed Bingham’s collar and yanked him back.

“I’m of an age.” The kid gazed longingly at the saloon door.

“When you’re old enough to know better, you’ll be of an age.”

“You sound like my pa.”

The scent of jasmine wafted past Jesse’s nose. Odd to smell that this time of year. He glanced about and didn’t see the plant growing nearby.

“I hope I do.” Once they walked past the saloon, the night grew quieter. It wouldn’t stay that way because there was another saloon on the next block. “Your father is a fine man.”

“I know, and I love him. But the thing is, he’s happy just being at work or home. And that’s all right for him because he’s old. I’m ready to experience everything out there!”

“It’s fine to want that.”

How did he tell the boy what he’d learned without sounding like a Sunday morning preacher? Not that Jesse had anything against Sunday morning preachers; it’s just that he figured the boy didn’t pay much attention to them.

He sure hadn’t. He’d learned about life the hard way. Made some grave mistakes that other folks paid the price for. If he could keep Bingham from doing the same, it would be worth more than the herd of horses he was going to fetch. And they meant the world to him.

“You too cold to keep walking, boy?”

“I ain’t a bit cold, sir.” His red nose said otherwise but he didn’t appear to be shivering.

“I’m glad. I’ve got some things to say to you.”

“I did come along to learn everything you know.”

“Everything you think I know.”

Bingham slapped his hands on his forearms as though he could ward off the frigid air. “I reckon you’ve had more adventures than even than Hoodoo Underwood.”

Many more. Although calling them adventures was giving his experiences glamour when they didn’t deserve it.

The one and only thing he wanted now was to settle on his property, breed horses and raise children. Wake up every morning with their mother in his bed.

Out of the blue—or the dark—a vision flashed in his mind of the woman he had met earlier today. The one who was going to end up brokenhearted because she chose the wrong sort of man.

Hmm... She lay in his bed, hair the color of shimmering cream splayed about the pillow. A playful smile on her face. In his mind, he allowed himself to brush a feathered kiss across her lips because what was the harm? A pair of blue eyes gazed up at him in love, even though she knew his every secret.

Odd how something he only imagined left his heart half shaken. Slightly bereft.

“I’ve lived life, and I think maybe you envy that. The thing is, Bingham, I’d have traded every last adventure to have parents like yours.”

“What was it you did, when you were living life before you settled in Forget-Hoping-Anything-Interesting-Will-Happen?”

“I was a bounty hunter.” A robber of freedom. A maker of widows and orphans. He’d taken a life...and worse.

Bingham halted midstride. His mouth hung open, making him look like a fledgling bird expecting a worm to be stuffed into its beak.

“That’s enough talk for now. It’s cold. Let’s go back.”

“But I want to see—”

“Adventure? Look around, boy!” Jesse nodded toward a man who had just stumbled out of the saloon.

Even in the dark, he recognized the fellow who held the heart of the lady on the boardwalk back in Forget-Me-Not. The very lady he had just been fantasizing about. Although, the strange thing was, the vision seemed more solid than fantasy. The oddest part being, he was not a man who indulged in fantasy.

“What do you see?” he asked Bingham.

“A fellow having a high old time. Could be he just won money at cards.”

“The truth is more like he’s so drunk he’s going to vomit at the hitching post. He lost money because his mind couldn’t think a straight thought. He’ll wake up in the morning feeling sick to death, then he’ll do the same damn thing tomorrow night. And he’ll keep on until he’s out of money. I’ve seen it over and over, son. Haggard and hungry isn’t adventurous.”

“But you were a bounty hunter!”

What he wouldn’t give to forget that. To live on his sweet little ranch and wake up next to a blue-eyed, blond-haired woman who forgave and forgot.

Yes, one who made him forget.

* * *

Within moments of passing the split-rail fence, Laura Lee drove the team over the rise of a hill. And there it was...

Home.