My Daughters

By Ann Davie

“Oh, the farmer and the cowboy should be friends…”  The first time I saw “Oklahoma” I must have been around seven or eight.  It had to have been a Sunday night, because I couldn’t watch TV any time except then.  Would have been just after The Wonderful World of Disney, because my dad let me watch whatever came after that.  I didn’t really understand what they meant in that song.  Why should a farmer and a cowboy have any troubles getting along?  I have some idea now.

Some might think I’m a cowboy, but that’s not really true.  I’m a ranch hand, and I look after sheep, sometimes goats.  But sheepboy has a kind of nasty sound to it, so I don’t mind being called a cowboy.  The ranch I’m working for at the moment is the Triple S, halfway between Dumbell and Sunshine, Wyoming.  A rather apt location given the crazy loon who runs the hands there.  Dizzy keeps telling the new fellas that he can play the trumpet just like that other Dizzy, Gillespie.  The rest of us know better.  Still, he’s fair, so I can’t complain if every now and then he goes on a bender and ends up doing something crazy like gluing crutchings to the new fellas’ pants.

I used to work during shearing season, going from ranch to ranch.  The Triple S was always my last job before heading back to Alliance in Nebraska.  During the winter, I’d work for Shannon’s father, Dale Burke.  He had a machine shop and during the winter months, I’d be there overhauling tractors and other farm equipment.

Alliance is where Molly and Petal are now, and where Shannon is, too.  Molly is almost seven and Petal, her real name is Rose but when she was born she was so small that I thought she was more like a petal than a whole flower, she’ll be five next week.

I can’t believe I have such lovely girls, so gentle and smart.  I mostly can’t believe it because I’m only twenty-five.  There are other shearers here who are ten, fifteen years older than me, who have never even thought of having kids.  A couple others do have kids, but don’t own up to it.  And then there are two or three men, same age as me, who only care about a fat wad of cash and how far away the nearest town is.

I’m not saying I’m better than they are.  I don’t think I’d still be working at the Triple S, waiting to get back east in the next couple of weeks if I were.  The way Shannon nagged at me to just work for her dad kept pushing me the other way.  To be fair, it wasn’t hard to make me go.  It had nothing to do with Shannon, really.

I can’t help it.  Each morning, first thing, I look out across the ranges and I’m hooked all over again.  Sometimes early in the season, the frost hangs in the air and turns the color of the sweetest peach.  I wait for that first peak to be drawn red against the lead gray clouds further west.  Usually it’s Spinner’s Peak, sometimes McGraw, depends on the weather.  In the morning, McGraw is usually held in a thick blanket of cloud until May or June.  When the sun finally clips the lower hills to the east and starts to warm the air, I sometimes get embarrassed because I get this lump in my throat, it’s just too beautiful for words.  The other guys are still scratching themselves, stretching and looking for that first cup of coffee.  I like nothing better than being the first person to see the dawn in.  And by April, I’m almost tearing my hair out to get back to the high country.

Shannon had Molly when we were both eighteen.  I’d been out of school for two years, and followed my father around the ranches.  We’d get back to Alliance and he’d piss his money away on just about anything while I worked for Dale.  Dale didn’t mind me taking up with his Shannon, I think he rather encouraged it.  Still, he wasn’t too pleased at having to put on a wedding so quickly, but his displeasure didn’t last all that long.  Dad died just before Molly was born in August.  I had decided to stay in Alliance that season while Shannon was pregnant.  I think she thought that was the way it was going to be.

Next year, I just told Shannon that I had to do one more season and then I’d be back to stay.  Turned out to be two seasons, and then Petal was due.  I tell you, it was hard to stay.  Shannon had decided that she had our life all mapped out.  Two kids, maybe three if we wanted to try for a boy, own our own house by the time we were thirty and then coast.  Shannon had a hard time with Petal, so my fate was pretty much sealed that season.  When I saw Shannon’s eyes, dark as obsidian, fill with fear and pain those last couple of months of pregnancy, there was no way I was going to leave her.

Every father, no matter how much they try to deny it, has a special soft spot for one of their kids.  I love Molly to death.  She’s so strong and clever, just like Shannon.  I sometimes wonder if they really even need me.  From the day she was born, Petal nestled in my heart and stayed there.  So pink and soft, if you couldn’t see how small she was, you’d think she was a perfect healthy baby, but she had to fight for every breath those first couple of months.  I know it sounds silly, but I sometimes wonder if she’s here now because I willed her to fight.  I don’t know if you’d call it mind reading, I’ve never believed in any of that kind of stuff, but when she looks at me, it’s as if her thoughts move with mine.  I just feel it.

I worked hard that year.  Petal’s medical bills took a long time to whittle down.  Dale helped out, of course, but it was still tough going.  I could feel myself hanging out for April.  I’d sort of skirted the issue with Shannon, telling her how much money I could make shearing.  But she never wanted to talk about it.  I think she must have been biding her time until her father had the chance to talk to me.

Dale had a small farm just west of town.  Wheat and some corn.  One day he told me that he’d let me take it over if I could still help out at his shop in winter.  He had some tenants in the house but they were moving to Cedar Rapids soon, and the friend of his who did the farming was getting too old to handle it all.  Dale just said he was glad I was there to take it on.  I wasn’t sure what to do.  I felt cheated out of making up my own mind.

Dale needed an answer and I needed to get out of there.  I figured my leaving would take care of both.  So I left without telling Shannon, without giving Dale any reason, and without saying goodbye to my baby girls.

I worked my tail off, racking up more hides than anyone else.  I’d get up early and stay up late.  I just had to walk, maybe for a few minutes, sometimes an hour or more.  I felt like I was saying goodbye, and I hated every moment of it.

In April, the peaks float above the grasslands like glaciers.  Their cold, hard faces cast an angry shadow in the afternoon.  As summer slides in, they soften and bring a welcome coolness to the parched scrub.  After the herds have been moved into the paddocks, the dust takes hours to settle.  I’d watch the sun cast golden curtains in the air like lace falling from the sky.

By the time I got to the Triple S, I was surprised to see that it was already late August.  Dizzy said he’d never seen anyone work as hard as me.  He also said that if I wasn’t careful, I'd end up like him, and he was serious, too.  I never thought the season would end.  Maybe I thought that if I crammed as much as I could into each and every day that time would just burst and I’d be left forever in the present.

I thought about Molly and her dark hair like her mother’s.  It would be hard to look into those coal black eyes again.  So protective, even at her age.  I ached for Petal; I wondered if I could look into her eyes, would I still see our thoughts dance about?  And Shannon.  For some reason, she’d taken on a curious form in my thoughts.  Something disturbed me.  It was a prickly feeling inside me, and I always seemed to blame her for it.  I would lie awake at night, fighting the urge to think about her soft arms about me.  I desperately tried to push the images, scents and sounds of her from my mind.  For the first time, as the prospect of seeing her again drew near, I longed for her.  I think I grew to love her.  I know I hadn’t really before.

Tonight is the last night before I head back. I can feel something growing, changing. It's a need that's pulling me back to Alliance. It excites me in a frightening way. Earlier today I called Dale and asked about the farm. You would have thought I was telling him he'd won the lottery.

Stan Pike wants to play cards, but I can't keep my mind on the game. He wants me to play another hand, and I do, just to try to keep myself occupied. But it's hopeless. My girls keep smiling at me. My wife has her arms open, waiting for me.

Dizzy comes in the hands' quarters and pokes around at the leftovers from dinner. I'm sure he can see the anxious look in my face. He seems to mirror it himself. I put my hand down and shove a couple of dollars towards Stan and tell him he's won.

As I make my way back to my room to finish packing, Dizzy pats my shoulder, holding me still a second. His voice is soft, "I'd say 'See ya later, kid' but I know it's not gonna be true. Give your kids a hug for me, will ya?"

I tell Dizzy I sure will and walk out into the late summer evening. For the first time, I'm looking east. The low hills look lovely in the golden light, bright green and fresh. Just waiting for me.