Not A Cowboy

At last, the small plane came to a stop on the runway and the seatbelt light was turned off.

A gentleman stood and hastily made his way up the aisle. He looked just as eager to get off that godforsaken plane as I was to stay on it and fly home.

I turned my phone off of airplane mode and texted Marcia.

“Just landed and I’m already regretting letting you talk me into this.” As soon as I’d hit send, my phone dinged. “Message failed to deliver.” No service. Great…

All five or so of the other passengers stretched and lazily ambled their way towards the door—a scene I was certainly not accustomed to. On the larger commercial planes, everyone pushed their way to the front with an impatient urgency just like the man in the suit had.

Clearly, he wasn’t from around here.

I watched the passengers make their leisurely exit, grateful that they were delaying the inevitable. Is it too late to change my mind?

Do I actually have to get off the plane? I wondered.

“Suck it up, Andy,” I said to myself, then made my exit.

I cursed under my breath as I struggled with my baggage through the small airport's non-automated door.

Once outside, as promised, a restored black Chevy Silverado sat waiting for me at the curb.

I made my way towards the truck as the driver's door swung open and a huge grizzly of a man stepped out to greet me.

Oh my lord. What children’s novel did this giant step out of? I wondered. Am I really going to let him be my chauffeur?

He was easily a head taller than I was, despite the fact that I was standing above him on the curb. I took a step back, trying to see his face.

“Andrea?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said, looking up at his full beard because that was as far as I could see.

“I’m Luke, nice to meet you,” he said, extending a brick of a hand.

I hesitated, staring at his grease-stained palm. The thought of catching a ride from this absurdly large cowboy made me question my voyage more now than ever.

But my curiosity got the better of me. I hadn’t flown all this way for nothing… and I had a small bottle of pepper spray tucked in my purse should he prove to be a problem.

It’s like a redneck taxi… I thought to myself. After all, I had been riding in taxis since I was a kid. I could do this. I reached for his hand reluctantly.

“Nice to meet you,” I said with a lilting handshake.

“Light packer, huh?” he said with a chuckle as he reached for my suitcase.

“I wasn’t sure what to pack for… a place like this,” I started to say. “And my smaller suitcase was stolen last month.” (Not that it was any of his d*mn business.)

He plucked my large suitcase off the curb with one hand and, to my horror, plopped it with a thunk in the back of the snow-dusted truck bed.

I’d only spent one whole minute with this man and he was already irritating as hell. A big dumb oaf, I thought while glaring in disbelief at my beautiful suitcase, exposed to all of Earth’s many awful elements.

Cool your jets, Andy, I reminded myself as I heard Marcia’s voice singing, “Watch your temper, my love!” I took a deep breath and did my best to shake off my inner tantrum. Not a huge deal. Clearly, he wasn’t familiar with luxury luggage…

The big dumb oaf must have read my face.

“Not sure it will fit under your feet,” he said with one eyebrow cocked.

He opened the passenger door and extended his hand to help me get into the truck. “And truth be told, it’s not much cleaner in there anyway.” He chuckled again.

I shot him a snarky smile and climbed into the truck's bench seat without his assistance.

“What an ass!” I said under my breath as the door clanked shut behind me.

He climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine as I made multiple attempts to fasten my seatbelt.

“This seatbelt is broken,” I said impatiently.

“Are you sure? Would you like me to try it?” he asked apologetically.

“I am perfectly capable of placing a seatbelt in a buckle… it’s broken,” I said, unable to hide the irritation in my voice.

“Well, there is another seat belt here next to me,” he said. He seemed to be choking back laughter as he patted the small space between us. I glanced from his thick arm to the stick shift located directly in front of the middle seat.

I was not amused.

“It’s fine.” I huffed. “Hopefully it’s a short ride?”

“About an hour, but don’t worry, it goes by real quick with good company.” This time, he didn’t hold back and let out a deep bellowing laugh.

I rolled my eyes and checked my phone for a signal. Still nothing.

This would surely be the longest hour on the longest day of my life…

I lasted 20 minutes without anything to distract myself with, then decided that if I had to be stuck in a car with this big dumb oaf, then I may as well work him for some information. I put my sunglasses on and cut to the chase.

“So, how exactly do you know William?”

He glanced at me, confused.

“Oh! Bill,” he said.

“He’s my boss. But I’ve known him my whole life.”

“Is he a good boss?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Bill’s a good man, like an uncle to me… helped me stay out of trouble.”

This was easier than I’d expected.

“So, everyone calls him Bill?”

“Yeah. As a matter of fact, I don’t think I’ve ever actually heard anyone call him William… ‘til I met you.”

“That’s what my mother called him,” I said, my tone a tad defensive.

My mother was the quintessential proper lady. She descended from a long line of wealthy American aristocrats. Try as I might, I couldn’t picture her in all her poised perfection associating in any way with a country mouse named Bill… or a rancher named William for that matter.

“Like an uncle?” I thought aloud while spying a glance at him through my sunglasses.

He was younger than I’d expected and perhaps good-looking, despite the fact that he was a big dumb oaf. His features were strong and masculine, much like his hands… but it was hard to really see his face under that beard and shaggy golden-brown hair.

How did someone walk around that oblivious to their appearance? Oh, God… I sound like my mother.

“Yeah,” he said. “Or more like a second father, I guess.”

I waited, genuinely intrigued.

“My dad died when I was a kid. Bill… he stepped in and kinda filled his shoes,” he explained.

“That must have been awful to lose a parent so young,” I said half sincerely.

He simply nodded his head and fell silent.

“Like a father? So, did William… I mean, Bill, marry your mom then?” I asked, trying to keep the investigation alive.

“No,” was all he said.

“Is Bill married?”

“Nope,” he said again.

“Has he ever been married?” I asked.

“Not that I know of,” he said and paused as if he was thinking about saying more but didn’t.

For whatever reason, his answers had become less informative and my investigation came to a screeching halt.

We bumped along in the quiet and I looked out the window, plotting my next set of questions. I was semi-curious about his father’s death but didn’t want to be nosey. I hate nosey people.

The landscape was like nothing I had ever seen (well, except on TV). Fields of open space that stretched towards snow-covered slopes. Other than the road, there was little trace of human inhabitants.

From the comfort of my little apartment, this landscape had seemed charming. Now, frozen and sprawling before me, it felt untamed and unfriendly, as if it could swallow me whole. I shivered and reached for my coat.

Sh*t! I thought with disappointment. I must have left it on the plane.

But, I was too proud to ask him to turn around. We had to be close to the halfway point by now.

We passed snowy field after snowy field of cattle and a few other travelers on the road. I began to wonder if anyone here drove anything other than a pickup truck.

Ahead of us, a vehicle was pulled off onto the shoulder with its emergency lights flashing.

“Mind if I make a quick stop?” Luke asked, motioning towards the vehicle.

“No,” I responded with a shrug (did I really have a choice?). It was, in fact, a pickup truck that had been pulling a trailer of some sort.

An older man knelt over a flat tire. “Should I come and help?” I asked as Luke climbed out of the truck.

He looked at me and choked a laugh back. I was annoyed, but he wasn’t wrong. I had no idea how to change a tire.

“Nah, this should be quick,” he said.

I rubbed my cold hands together and turned the heater up as he walked away.

The old man stood to shake Luke’s hand and nodded a “hello” to me. They chatted for a bit, their words forming small clouds in the brisk air. Then Luke set to work, the old man alongside him handing him tools.

“He’s just missing his white cowboy hat,” I scoffed to myself.

The tire was off and replaced with a spare in no time. I was impressed.

“Clearly not their first rodeo,” I laughed to myself.

But truthfully, it was almost charming, this neighborly interaction. It seemed to ease my anxiety a bit and I decided that Luke may not be a total big dumb oaf.

“Do you know him?” I asked as Luke waved at the old man and pulled back onto the highway.

“No, he’s from Sun Valley, a few hours away.”

“Oh, well, that was nice of you to pull over for a stranger.”

He gave me a curious glance.

“Anyone would’ve pulled over… it’s the right thing to do.”

“That may be true here. But not in a big city,” I said.

“Right…” he said with another curious glance.

I thought of the last time I had experienced car trouble. I was traveling for business and the rental car just wouldn’t start back up after getting gas. I most definitely did not turn on my emergency lights. The last thing I wanted was help from some random stranger. Instead, I had sat in the gas station parking lot for two hours, waiting for a stupid tow truck.

As we turned towards the hills and started to climb, we passed another snow-covered field that was full of massive animals I’d never seen before.

“Are those deer?” I asked in awe.

“Elk,” he said.

“Elk!?” I said, gaping. I couldn’t believe their size. It seemed everything here was larger than life.

“It’s strange the way the mountains are covered in snow on one side, and barren and rocky on the other side,” I thought aloud.

“They’re called solar slopes,” said Luke.

I glanced at him, confused.

“The slopes with no snow… they are called solar slopes. Because the sun shines longer on the east side and melts the snow,” he explained.

“This is Bill's place,” Luke pointed to the left. I saw more mountain side and nothing like a home.

“Where?” I asked.

“The land, it’s Bill’s,” he explained. “The turn off is up the road.”

“Wow!” I gasped aloud. “What does he do with all this land?”

“Cattle mostly, back in the day… but now that he’s sick… he’s been selling it piece by piece to investors.”

“That’s a shame.”

“Agreed.” He nodded.

‘Sick,’ I thought to myself. The grown-up way of politely saying that someone was dying.

I shuddered at my bleak observation and my nerves peaked with the anticipation of meeting the dying man—my father.