I was home. I think in a sense I always knew that Iâd end up back in western Montana to stay. It was the circumstances that sucked. Ten days earlier my father and younger sister were killed in a private plane crash. The family came together from across the country and we buried our kin. Now it was just mother and I at the small ranch that had been on her side of the family for over a hundred years.
By way of introduction, my name is Chris, or âChristopherâ according to mother. I am twenty-four years old, tall, rangy like my dad, and dark-haired like my mom. My mother, Karen, is 42 years old, tall for a female at 5â9â with medium-length coal-black hair. Mom is considered exotic, in that her skin tone is somewhat Mediterranean and in keeping with her Basque heritage, she tends to be hirsute. She definitely turns heads though; both men and women give her a second look.
It was tough over the next few months as momâs emotions yo-yoed between normality and deep sorrow. She worked hard with me in trying to maintain the small horse and buffalo operation that my father had started. It was hard work, mostly outside and on horseback. There are always stock to move, fences to repair, hay and feed to move, vehicle and building maintenance, and so forth. I realized that my college education and two-short years as a high school science teacher had in no way prepared me for this kind of work.
Our house was tucked up next to the hills on the eastern side of our property, up against the national forest lands. We were probably 15 miles from our nearest neighbor and some 35 miles from Missoula, Montana. It really was a beautiful patch of ground, the house being surrounded by a grove of large, old ponderosa pines and Douglas fir. The house itself was wood construction, solidly built, with several bedrooms, a large living-dining room and river-rock fireplace.
I lay in bed at night and listened to the wind move through the trees outside my window, moving the chimes hanging on the porch. Sometimes I could hear mother sobbing in her bedroom. I knew she was still very much mourning the loss of her husband, my father, and her daughter, my sister. Hell, I missed them fiercely too. I still couldnât believe that they were gone forever. It just takes time, I kept repeating to myself.
***
I woke up one spring morning, with the sun shining into my room. It was early still, which was good, because it really meant that winter was on its way out. It was getting warmer. Most of the snow was gone as I looked out the window while dressing.
I could hear mother downstairs in the kitchen cooking breakfast while listening to a Sibelius CD. I smelled fresh coffee and bacon and eggs. My stomach rumbled as I ambled downstairs.
I moved up behind mom at the stove and leaned down and bussed her neck. She looked up at me and smiled.
âGood morning, sweetheart. Sleep well?â she asked.
âYup, I sure did, mother.â
âWant some bacon and eggs, babe?â
âAfter a cup of coffee, that sounds wonderful.â I told her.
âWhat are your plans today, Christopher?â she asked.
âWell, its time to move the buffalo from the corrals back out into the range. I thought Iâd move the bulls first, and the cows later this week. There are a couple of cows that havenât calved yet, and I want to keep an eye on âem.â I replied.
She served me my breakfast and asked, âDo you want some help? I am wide open this week; my shrink cancelled my counseling session as she is visiting family in Butte.â
âYou betcha, mom! That would be great, itâll do you some good to get out and you know how much I love spending time with my favorite lady.â
She blew me a raspberry, âOh go on with you, I expect I am the last person you want to spend time with as I have been an absolute wreck these past few months.â
I set my fork down and looked up at her and said quietly, âMother, even if you canât see it, you are 100 percent improved, and thereâs no one in this whole wide world that Iâd rather be with now or ever â I really do love you ever so much, Mom.â
She came over and stood behind me and rubbed my shoulders and neck, âYou really are so wonderful, Christopher. I honestly donât know if I could have made it through the past few months without you. I certainly know that I couldnât have kept up with this place.â
She ruffled my short hair, and leaned down and kissed my cheek with her soft lips. I could smell the faint sweet fragrance of her shampoo as her hair brushed across my face.
âI love you so much, Christopher. You are the best son that a mother could have.â She said fiercely.
***
We moved the buffalo several miles into the open grasslands. It took all day, and was hard work. It was still cool, so we were bundled up as we rode back and forth keeping the herd on the move.
I chose a nice vista on one of the bluffs and we stopped for lunch. Mother unpacked the saddlebags holding our sandwiches, water, and a thermos of coffee. I rubbed the horses down lightly and tethered them to some bushes.
We ate our lunches and lay back on a blanket enjoying the mild spring day sunshine.
Mom looked over at me, âChristopher, are you lonely out here?â
âWhat do you mean, Mom? I am not alone, Iâm with you.â
âNo, honey, what I mean is donât you miss having a girlfriend around. I mean youâve been stuck out here on the âback-fortyâ with me for nearly six months now.â She replied.
I grinned and looked over at her, âHeck, mom, even living in Los Angeles didnât improve my shyness. I didnât have a girlfriend there either.â
âI donât understand that, honey; you are such a handsome man. I am surprised that they werenât falling into your arms every day.â
âNah, it was never like that. When I was in college, I studied; and when I was teaching, I made it a point not to get involved with other staff members.â I said.
Hmm, a thought hit me, âMother, are you lonely?â
She shyly looked down at the ground, âSometimes I miss the male âcompanionshipâ if you know what I mean.â
âMom, I do know what that means, and I gotta agree, I miss that too.â I chuckled.
âBut, darling, you just said that you didnât have a girlfriend.â She queried.
I laughed heartily, âWell, thatâs true enough, but that doesnât mean that I didnât date, or every once in a while get lucky enough to get laid.â
I plucked a long stem of grass and leaned over and started gently tickling momâs cheek and chin.
She looked over at me and smiled, and reached her hand over and caressed my unshaven cheek, âOuch, someone needs to use a razor once in a while.â
I rubbed my face, âYeah, I should have shaved so that Iâd be presentable for my Princess.â
Mother giggled, âAm I your princess, baby?â
âYou betcha, Mom, and you always have been, ever since I was a little boy.â I said softly looking intently into her dark eyes.