The last time I saw him, I had been sixteen, my sister Julia fourteen, and Dusty fifteen. And yes…I had kissed him. My body threatened to cave in on itself just thinking about that brazen force of impact. After that summer, I got a job at our public library in town and finally convinced my dad not to uproot us for any more summers I had left at home. And for once…he listened. We stayed and only came to Grandpa’s ranch on long weekends or holidays. I told myself I didn’t miss it, but the truth was, a small part of my heart had broken when we stopped going back, even though it was my doing. Grandpa’s ranch was as much a part of me as any home I had ever lived in.
“Geez, they’re predicting ten more inches tonight.”
My head swung toward the TV where the same animated weatherman from earlier was gesturing wildly and pointing to the exact region my grandpa’s ranch was located. Ten more inches of wet, heavy snow.
“Are the cattle going to be okay?”
Dusty’s eyes stayed on the screen, but he nodded. “They should be fine. I’ll bust open the troughs once more before I go to bed and then I’ll get up early tomorrow and put more straw down for them to lay on. Push the snow back in the corrals.” His voice trailed off as he listened intently to the weatherman’s torturous predictions.
I clutched my grandma’s burnt orange fringed decorative pillow close to my chest. He shouldn’t have to do that. He was a guest here. He shouldn’t feel like he had to do it all.
“If you think my grandpa would let you do all that on your own, you're crazy.”
His eyebrows lifted as he looked over at me. “He’s sick, isn’t he?”
“Yes, but that’s never stopped him.”
“Probably because he’s never had another man here to take care of his chores.”
That was true, he didn’t have another man—but he had me. “I’m here. It’s my responsibility. You’re our guest. You don’t need to do that.”
“Oh perfect. So I stay inside and watch from the windows, while you and your sick, elderly grandpa take care of all the chores?”
My voice came out weak. “Yup.”
“No dice, Lou. I’ll be out at first light and will start feeding cows. You’re welcome to stay in or come join me, but I’m going to try my hardest to make sure Bob has no reason to set foot outside.”
Guilt began to drip into my heart. He was right. Last year my grandpa was nearly hospitalized for pneumonia. “You’re right. I’ll meet you out there.”
Reports of accidents and freeways with cars scattered throughout the darkened road oozed from the reporter’s mouth. So calmly giving his report as though he had nothing at stake. As though he didn’t live in Wyoming. As though he weren’t the one stranded on a ranch in the middle of nowhere. The snow was piling up outside, the lights began to flicker, and my grandpa was sick with nowhere to go. Not to mention the cattle who needed to be fed, strawed, and watered.
My chest began working overtime trying to pull air into my lungs.
“You alright?”
My eyes shifted to his and found him watching me, curiously. My anxiety had gotten better over the years, with breathing techniques, learning to calm myself, and occasionally some medication. But oxygen. There was not enough oxygen.
“Sorry. I’m just getting worried about the storm and everything.” Big breath in, big breath out. “Aren’t you nervous?” I asked him, trying to feign nonchalance at my breathing.
He leaned back down against the couch and looked back to the TV as if knowing I didn’t want him watching me. “Yeah, a little, I guess. But we’re not in any real danger. Your grandpa has everything we need to get through this. Plenty of food. Water. Electricity.”
“For now,” I interjected.
He smiled gently. “If we just take it a little at a time, the big problem will be over. We can map out our day tomorrow if you want. After we hog-tie your grandpa to his bed, getting the animals fed would be the first thing. I’m assuming there are some animals in the old stable?”
I nodded and he continued. “So maybe while you feed the horses and calves in the stable, I’ll get in the tractor and start clearing a path in the corral so we can feed hay. Whoever gets done first can start busting up the water troughs. Then we’ll put straw down for the cows. We can figure it out together.”
He was so confident. So calm. My breathing slowed to eventually match his. He was right. Bit by bit. Nothing was insurmountable. The weight on my shoulders began to lessen.
“You’ll make your grandpa proud.” His hand snaked over to my neck and began rubbing for a brief moment. I froze, my eyes locked on the TV in front of me, before he removed his hand, almost as if he hadn’t meant to in the first place.
I cleared my throat, desperate to not make things weird. “Except I had to have help from some stranded cowboy.”
“You could have done it by yourself. I’m just an added stress for you.”
“No. You’re really not,” I told him. He only smiled, before turning his attention back to the TV.
“You know what would make your grandma proud?”
