A Dream Unfolding (6 page)

Drew’s confusion must have shown, because Doc continued quickly, “My nephew Darren plans to join me when he finishes medical school.
 
He should have been here already, but he decided to stay on for a few additional classes.
 
He plans to arrive in December.
 
This clinic would make an excellent gift for a young doctor craving independence from his old uncle, don’t you think?”

Drew nodded his agreement, as he finished the last bite of mashed potatoes and gravy from his plate.
 
Hannah stood and began clearing the plates from the table, still saying nothing.
 
When she brought slices of the apple pie for each of them, Drew saw a frown flit across her features before she pasted on a rather forced smile.

“Mrs. Anderson, thank you for the excellent meal,” Doc Henderson beamed.
 
Then turning to Drew, he added, “It is a wonder that you are able to keep so trim.
 
I would not be so fortunate if I were married to such a marvelous cook.”

Hannah’s smile turned genuine at the compliment as Drew laughed at Doc’s teasing.
 
“It is a miracle.”

After Doc finished off two slices of Hannah’s sweet apple pie, Drew showed him around both the clinic and living quarters.
 
Then the two men returned to the parlor to finalize the arrangements of the sale.
 
As Drew escorted Doc Henderson to the front door, he could scarcely believe things were falling into place.

Chapter
3

The day started like any other on the ranch, early and full of work.
 
After feeding and watering the horses, Will began rubbing down Jackson, his tawny brown stallion and best friend.
 
There was something calming about the routine action.
 

Routine.
 
That was just what William
Colter
longed for this day of all days.
 
But today would be anything but routine, because today he would bury his father.
 
Will’s breath caught as the thought passed through his mind.
 
Moisture gathered in the corners of his eyes.
 
He blinked several times rapidly, willing the tears to stay at bay.
 
“Ranchers don’t cry son,” he recalled his father saying when his mother passed a few years ago.
 
“At least not in front of the cowboys.
 
You must be in control and run the ranch with strength.”

Sage advice from the man he admired so.

Clearing his throat, Will hastily saddled Jackson.
 
His six foot frame easily mounted the majestic animal.
 
This morning he dressed in typical rancher garb; sturdy levis, his trusty leather cowboy boots, and a blue button down cotton shirt stretching across his broad chest.
 
His light tan Stetson covered his dark hair.
  
Most days, he wore a handkerchief over his nose to keep from choking on the dust kicked up from the cattle, but he forgot it this morning, his attention scattered.

As he neared the far pasture, he spotted the ever faithful Benjamin Shepherd.
 
Ben was a kindly cowboy, sitting astride his black mare, Sheila.
 
Why Ben named his horse Sheila was still a topic of debate among the hands.
 
Some think that Ben was once sweet on a Mississippi gal named Sheila.
 
Others suspected the mare was named after his dear
ol
’ ma.

Regardless of the reason behind the horse’s name, it seemed contradictory to the rough appearance of the man.
 
Almost twenty-five years ago Edward
Colter
, Will’s father, hired Ben as the foreman of the Star C Ranch.
 
The two men formed a trusted friendship over the years.
 
When the
Colter
brothers, Reuben and then Will, were old enough to ride and rope, Ben taught them the skills.
 
When Will was younger, he used to think Ben a giant at almost six feet tall.
 
His broad shoulders nearly spanned the door frame of the bunkhouse.
 
His legs were as thick as a tree—at least to a child they appeared so.

“Didn’t expect to see you out here this morning, boss,” rumbled Ben’s deep voice, pulling Will’s attention back to the present.
 
“Shouldn’t you be
gittin
’ ready to head in to town to bury your pa?”

Will always felt like he should respond to Ben with a “yes sir” or “no sir” like he did with his father.
 
Countless times the elder
Colter
reminded him that was not necessary as the rancher’s son, and definitely not at his twenty-nine years of age.
 
Still, Will respected Ben greatly, and found the old habit hard to break.
 
Uncertain how to reply, Will merely grunted.

“The boys and me got things under control out here, so you can tend to the family,” Ben reassured, as he turned his horse back towards the long-horned steers grazing contentedly in the warm sun.

Being dismissed, Will turned Jackson back toward the ranch.
 
What had he been thinking to ride out there?
 
He should have known Ben would frown upon his presence rounding up the cattle today.
 
Giving Jackson a kick with his boots, he urged the animal into a trot.
 
Maybe he came out here because he needed the time to think.
 
He did his best thinking in the wide open spaces sitting in his country style saddle.
 
And his mind was going far faster than Jackson was covering ground this morning.

Watching his father die was not something Will cared to remember.
 
But the memory pressed forward, obscuring the flat pasture land in front of him.
 
Two days ago, Edward
Colter
was the perfect picture of health for a man in his late fifties.
 
Trim and well muscled.
 
Used to long hours in the saddle and the difficult labor of working the ranch.
 
Though since mother passed, father spent more time at the ranch house and less time in the pastures.

Tears stung Will’s eyes as the unwanted images from his father’s last morning alive danced across his vision.
 
Father insisted on accompanying Will out to see the herd.
 
As the summer started to fade, the time drew near to send the cattle to market.
 
His father told him he wanted to see with his own eyes the fine work his youngest son had done growing the herd.

At first, everything appeared normal with the herd as they grazed on the sweet Texas grass.
 
Then the fearful sound started—a low rumbling giving way to a crescendo of thundering hooves.
 
The cattle frantically stampeded towards them.
 
Will kicked Jackson forcefully, moving him northward out of the way.
 
His father chose the opposite, more fateful direction, not clearing the onslaught of crazed animals in time.
 
When Will turned, expecting to see his father right behind him, his stomach sank to the ground.
 
He only caught a brief glimpse of his father before the herd swallowed him and his horse.

Swiping at the tears now freely falling down his dust coated face, Will prayed that God would let the horrific memory fade.
 
No one should watch his father die in such a painful manner.

By the time the herd cleared and Will made it to his father’s side, Edward squeezed a few words of praise for his son past his battered lips.

“You have made me prouder than any man has a right to be,” his weak voice etched the sentiment into Will’s soul before taking his last breath.

It was awful—slinging his father’s bloodied and beaten body over Jackson’s back, taking him to his home for the last time.
 
Will snorted at the injustice of such an experienced rancher dying in an unexpected stampede.
 
None of it made any sense.
 
Edward
Colter
should have lived his life to old age, bouncing his grandchildren on his knee.
 
But none of that would come to pass.

Will wished he could dwell on what should have been.
 
Instead, his own future had become a jumbled mess in the wake of this loss.
 
What would he do now that his father was gone?
 
Would Reuben let him stay at the ranch?
 
Doubtful.
 
Did he want to stay, being reminded of his father’s last hours each time he rode out for the day?

What he wanted might not make a difference.
 
Depending on the terms of his father’s will, the best possible situation Will could find himself in would be half owner of the Star C Ranch, though that was unlikely.
 
Reuben, five years his senior, as the first-born son, would likely inherit the ranch.
 
Given the option of staying under Reuben’s arrogant leadership, or striking out on his own, Will preferred the latter.

Other than appearance, the two
Colter
brothers shared little in common.
 
Where Will learned everything he could about ranching, Reuben wanted little to do with the labor of working the ranch.
 
He would rather sit in the ranch house plotting and scheming how he could get richer quicker—by any means necessary.
 
Will lived with a deep faith like his parents.
 
Reuben scoffed at religion, unless he could find a way to manipulate it for his own benefit.
 
Will developed a keen business mind as well as the ability to work the stock.
 
He was an expert with his rifle and his rope.
 
While Reuben learned these skills as a young man, he wanted nothing to do with the dirt and dust of the outdoors.

As Will neared the house, he slowed Jackson’s pace to a lope.
 
He looked up to see Julia retreating indoors.
 
At sixteen years of age, the youngest of the
Colter
clan was just over thirteen years younger than Will.
 
While there had been other children between Will and Julia, they died as toddlers or were stillborn.
 
His mother had not expected to have any more children, but was thrilled at Julia’s birth.

Growing a bit too quickly into a woman, Julia favored their father more than the brothers did.
 
She shared his bright blue eyes and sandy brown hair.
 
The curls were a trait from their mother.
 
Like their father, she was shorter than Will and Reuben, coming only to Will’s chest.
 
Her petite waist and curvy features were starting to be noticed by the young cowboys, sparking Will’s protective instincts.
 
She shared Edward
Colter’s
zest for life—everything was an adventure.
 
She idolized Will and he spoiled her, teaching her to shoot, ride, and rope as good as any of the hands.
 
In recent years, their father insisted she spend less time following Will around and more time in domestic pursuits.
 
She resisted at first, but eventually settled into her new role.

He dismounted and tied Jackson to the hitching post.
 
Absently kicking the dust from his boots, Will walked through the front doorway, making his way to his room to change into his Sunday best.
 
By the time he joined the family, Julia was already situated in the wagon.
 
She held Reuben’s toddlers in her lap.
 
Reuben helped his wife, Mary, up to the front seat of the wagon.
 
Scowling at Will, he climbed up next to his wife without a word.
 
Reuben slapped the reins and the wagon lurched into motion, groaning in protest.

Will mounted Jackson and followed along wordlessly.
 
He learned a long time ago that the fewer words passing between him and Reuben, the more peaceful the day would be.
 
Glancing over at Julia as he rode alongside, they locked gazes.
 
Her eyes were swollen and red-rimmed from crying.
 
She attempted a smile, but it was strained.
 
He could only wonder at what changes would be in store for both of them, now that the family patriarch was gone.