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She didn’t want to admit it, not even to herself, but it was becoming increasingly clear that her marriage to Mark just wasn’t working out.
God, why was her life such a fuck up? She’d tried everything to make this marriage work. She’d even cut her work hours back ridiculously. She used to be lucky to get out of the office by eight o’clock and now she made sure she left at five on the dot. She’d done it to please Mark but it hadn’t worked. Nothing seemed to please him anymore.
In the midst of her failing marriage, her clients were suffering from neglect. She was going to have to hire another agent to cover for her, but margins were tight and it seemed a waste to pay someone to do her job.
She looked at her watch and sighed: eight more minutes.
One client in particular played on her mind. Helga Hansen was the very first client she’d ever signed. They used to be the best of friends but as Helga grew more famous they’d both became too busy to discuss more than contracts and scripts.
Helga’s last two films flopped. Rosie blamed herself. She should have been able to see those parts just weren’t right for her. Hindsight was twenty-twenty of course; it was easy to see that now. What Helga needed now was a blockbuster. Luckily a script had come in the other day which would suit her perfectly. It was a romantic comedy – something Helga played well – but it also had hard-hitting drama in it. It would showcase her acting in the best light. It’d allow her audience to see her in a grittier role and yet at the same time play the part they were used to seeing her in. And then – and only then – did she want Helga to start pursuing deeper roles.
Such as the one Brian Hargrave wanted Helga to play.
He’d called today. Again. She’d already told him in no uncertain terms that she would not allow Helga to take on that role at this time. It would be suicide. The critics would chew her to pieces. The last two films were bad enough. But one more flop and that would be it, Helga’s career would be over, down the toilet. Or at least she would never get another big role in a so-called blockbuster…not for a long time…if ever. But that man was persistent.
Four more minutes.
She straightened her pens then, against her better judgment, she opened the envelope sitting on the top of her inbox. A bright orange URGENT was splashed across the front. She peaked inside. He hadn’t. Not another one. Could that man not take no for an answer?
Two and a half minutes.
She needed to pee. She grabbed her purse and got up from her desk but before she could make it around her potted snake plant, her door banged open.
Helga Hansen stood in her doorway, her face like thunder, waving a piece of paper in the air.
Oh Shit.
“Ah, Helga, I was just heading out the door.” Rosie adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder.
Helga didn’t bother with social niceties. “Brian Hargrave called me this afternoon just after I got home from LA.” The color drained from Rosie’s face at the mention of Brian’s name. “It was an enlightening conversation, to say the least. What’s going on, Rosie? He said he sent you over a script.’
Helga watched as Rosie swallowed a few times, buying for time; she could see the cogs turning behind Rosie’s eyes.
“Yes, he did. That part wasn’t for you. Not at all your forte.” Rosie moved back around her desk and riffled through some papers until she found what she was looking for. When she turned back around the color had returned to her face and she was waving a wad of bound papers in the air triumphantly. “I also received this today! This script is perfect for you.” Rosie held the script out to her. “I was going to send it over this afternoon, but since you’re here you might as well take it now.” Rosie shook the manuscript a little to try and get her to take it but Helga just looked at Rosie with contempt.
Helga took a menacing step into the room.
“Why didn’t you tell me Brian wanted me? Don’t you think it was a decision I should have made myself? This is too big of an opportunity to pass up! What on earth were you thinking, Rosie?” With each question she took a step closer to Rosie. The elation she had felt when she was on the phone to Brian had charged her with excitement and now made the anger all the more pronounced. Why had her agent told him no?
Rosie dropped her arm holding the manuscript and looked at her with pity.
“Darling, I don’t want to be the one to tell you. I honestly thought you already knew, anyway. But you can’t take on that role. Everyone knows your acting abilities are better suited to romcom.”
“In other words, you don’t think I’m able to do it, is that it?” Helga could feel her jaw dropping open. Her own agent thought her acting was shit. “You don’t think I’m good enough.” She ran her fingers through her curls in frustration. Why did no one believe in her anymore? “How can anyone know if I can or can’t do a serious role if I’m never given the opportunity? Why must I always be stuck in the same role all the time, Rosie?” She could feel tears of frustration gathering behind her eyeballs.
Rosie moved back around her desk and sank slowly into her chair.
“It’s not that I don’t think you can act the role, darling, it’s the fact that you have never done a serious role and I fear it’s too late to try. The audience just won’t accept you as a serious character now. You’ve played too many ditsy blondes to all of a sudden change to a hard-hitting lawyer defending a sexual predator. Well, surely you can see the problem?” She leaned forward over her desk and rested her chin on her steepled fingers. “Listen, Helga, you are immensely talented – we all know that – but the fact is the last few films you’ve done have bombed at the box office and have barely broke even. You are becoming a risk and frankly, Helga, if you choose to take this offer from Brian, I’m not sure you will ever receive another offer…of any kind.”
“So that’s it then? You’re giving up on me? Just like that?”
“No darling, I’m not giving up at all. I will be more than happy to represent you if you sign this contract.” Rosie picked the discarded script off her desk and held it out to Helga.
Helga looked at the papers. She couldn’t bring herself to reach out for them. She would be giving up on her dream of working with the great Brian Hargrave if she took Rosie’s offer. Since she started acting, it was this moment she was striving for. She knew this was a once in a lifetime opportunity, one that she wouldn’t likely be offered again.
She shook her head and turned towards the door.
“Sorry, Rosie, I can’t. Thanks for all the help over the years. I’ll show myself out.”
She walked down the corridor with her head held high and her stride purposeful. She didn’t even pause when she heard Rosie calling her name. She let out a deep breath only when she was safely inside the elevator.
Chapter 3
The truck flew over the cattle stop. Dust trailed his 1994 Dodge pickup as it bounced over washboards on the gravel road leading to the ranch. He’d reached Home Hill. The first place on the road from which the ranch house could be seen in the distance. He pulled over on the side of the road, stopped his truck and got out. Benjamin Ander Copeland couldn’t believe he was home. He’d avoided this place for the last two years. Too many painful memories floated about the place. Despite himself, a warm feeling invaded his chest and for the first time in a long time Ben felt a smile crease his face. He scrubbed it away. It didn’t feel right smiling here.
The smell of spring filled the air and assaulted his senses. Sagebrush, newly budding poplar and willow trees, bullberry bushes and new prairie grasses all sent fragrance into the air. Not for the first time in his life he was grateful he didn’t have allergies. It smelled like home. He took a deep breath and filled his lungs.
The remnant of last year’s grass scrunched beneath his cowboy boots as he climbed the small rise for a better view of the house. His dad had built the house for his mother not long after they’d gotten married. Before then they’d lived in the bunkhouse across the yard; a place where Benjamin had spent a fair bit of time in his last few years of high school. It had been his hiding place from his overzealous sisters. If he’d only known how life would have turned out, he would have stolen every moment he could with them.
“Well, Rachel,” he said to the air around him, “you’ve got your wish. I’m home now.” Benjamin stared down at the flat rock at his feet, marking the place his sister’s ashes had been spread two years ago. “I don’t know if this is such a good idea though. I’ve been away so long.” He cleared his throat and looked back towards the house. It was partially obscured by hills and trees but he could still see the roofline. His throat tightened at the sight. “I’ll come back and see you soon.”
He turned from the memorial and walked back to his truck. He sat there behind the wheel for a moment, fighting the memories. He took a deep breath and turned the key. It was time to go home.
His mom was waiting in the driveway when he pulled up. He was barely out of the truck before she was wrapping her arms around him.
“Benjamin Copeland, you’ve been away far too long. Don’t you put me through that again.” She loosened her hug and looked up at him. “I need you, you hear? And you need to be with your family.” She smiled, kissed his cheek and then let him go. “Come on in, dinner’s about ready.”
She hurried into the house before him but kept looking over her shoulder at him, making sure he did as he was told. Some things never changed, he thought. Even after all these years, his mom could still make him feel like a little boy. He gladly followed her into the kitchen; he could smell something good.
“Ben!”
Umph.
A whorl of golden hair flew at him. He barely had time to open his arms and catch his sister before she collided into him.
“Watch it, Beth,” he told her, a smile spreading across his face.
“Where the hell have you been, Ben?” Beth dropped her arms and stood before him with her hands on her hips.
“What do you mean?” he asked. “Am I late?” He glanced at the wall where the kitchen clock had hung his whole life. “Where the hell’s the clock?”
“Mind your language, Benjamin,” his mother said from the stove where she was stirring gravy.
“What? She swore too,” he said incredulously.
“Mom,” said Beth. “Hell, is not a swear word.”
“It is in this house.” She turned back to her gravy.
Beth rolled her eyes at him and smiled.
“It’s good to have you back, big brother…but you should have come home long before now.”
“I know,” he sighed.
The kitchen of the ranch house was exactly as he remembered it. The same worn wooden countertop shone in the late afternoon light as it flooded through the open windows above the sink. His mom’s china was displayed pride of place in a china hutch standing in the corner of the room. The white walls and the cool yellow cupboards enhanced the brightness of the cheery kitchen.
He put his hat on the hook by the door and ran his hand through his hair and over his face. Over a day’s worth of stubble prickled against his palm. He needed a shave.
“Where’s Dad?” Ben asked.
“He’ll be here soon, he’s just on the phone with Mr. Hargrave’s assistant again. What was her name again, Mom?”
“Melody Careman or some such thing. I have it written by the phone if you want to have a look.”
Benjamin felt the tension building in his shoulders and the familiar knot in his stomach growing. It was too normal here. Almost as though nothing had changed. He grabbed his hat back off the hook and ducked out the door while both of their backs were turned.
“Ben, you’re not leaving, are you?” Beth caught up with him, breathless.
“I just needed some air.” He took a great lungful of it and then turned back to his sister.
“What’s going on, Ben, why did you stay away so long?” Beth touched his arm and he fought the impulse to pull away.
“You know why,” he mumbled, avoiding her gaze.
“No Ben, I don’t. None of the rest of us ran away. We stayed. Do you know how hard it’s been on Mom and Dad not having you around either? Or me? It’s like we lost you too Ben. Do you have any idea how horrible it was to lose my brother just weeks after my sister died?”
He pulled away and turned his back on her.
“I don’t need this right now, Beth.” He could see the horses in the pasture just out from the barn. What he wouldn’t give to climb up on one and ride away for ever.
“When do you need it then, Ben?” she raged. “You haven’t ‘needed’ it since Rachel died and Jenna ran away.’
Her anger cut him. He wanted to run. He wanted to disappear. But he couldn’t do that. Cowboys don’t turn their back on their problems; they face them head on. The day his sister died he forgot how to be a cowboy.
He opened his mouth to tell Beth that he just needed more time, but before he could get the words out his mother’s voice cut through the uncomfortable silence.
“Dinner’s ready!”
Beth stepped close to him and said in a lowered voice, “Don’t think we’re done with this conversation, Ben, because we aren’t. Just make sure you act happy for Mom and Dad. They’ve been so excited about you coming home. Don’t spoil it for them.”
He turned and watched Beth go back inside and shook his head. In truth, he was happy. It was good to be home again and he knew he’d stayed away too long. He really loved this place. But now the ranch contained sadness too and he wasn’t used to that. He doubted he ever would be. Rachel died but he still had the rest of his family. He needed to remember that.
He followed his sister inside. He vowed to himself that he would make the effort to appreciate all of them now that he was home.
The smell of roast beef assaulted him as soon as he came back into the kitchen. His mom and Beth were placing the last of the meal on the table. His stomach rumbled in approval. He placed his hat back on the hook at the door and took his seat at the old oak table. Honeyed carrots glistened in their dish, mounds of mashed potatoes where piled high in their bowl, and sautéed cabbage, gravy and, best of all, Yorkshire puddings all appeared before him. He felt like a king waiting for a feast held in his honor. If the table hadn’t been so sturdy it would have collapsed when at last his mom placed the juicy roast beef down.
“What’s the occasion? Why the roast?” he asked his mom.
“You, silly,” she said, planting a kiss on his cheek. “It’s not every day you come for dinner.”
Watching his mom and sister he could’ve easily fooled himself that nothing has changed. But the laughter he grew up with wasn’t as loud and the creases around his mother’s eyes told him that the last two years had taken their toll on her too. He hated knowing some of those wrinkles were because of him.
“Ben, you made it!” His dad entered the room with a huge smile on his face.
Lance Copeland looked like every rancher from his generation should: tall, muscled but slightly paunchy around the middle from enjoying years of his wife’s good cooking.
As soon as Ben stood up he was enveloped into a hug. He swayed at the force of his dad slapping his back.
“It’s so good to see you, son. You’ve been away too long.”
Ben caught his dad’s eye and was surprised to see tears gathering along the lashes. He had to clear his throat before responding.
“It’s good to be home. I’ve miss it. I’ve missed you.”
Chapter 4
The morning was cool and crisp. Dew dampened the intensity of the prairie aroma and leant a fresh, clean scent to the air. Moisture clung to his horse Thunder’s forelegs as they cantered through the pasture, leaving a trail through the grass where the dew was knocked from the blades..
It’d been a year since Ben had been on a horse. He’d spent his whole life in a saddle until then. It was moments like these that made him wonder why he’d stayed away so long.
He rode through the herd of cows milling around the feed grounds with their new calves at foot. He kept his eyes open for any mis-mothered or sick calves and for any cows that were having trouble calving. The black Angus cows eyed him and Thunder wearily as they waited to be fed. A hired man, one Ben had yet to meet, finished rolling out the last bale of hay to the herd and headed off back towards the yards. He waved at Ben as he rolled past in the flatbed truck.
Ben stopped to watch the cows feeding for a while. They were terrific mothers and often kept their babies on the far side of them, away from Ben and his horse. It made it difficult to see the little guys, but Ben knew that any calves pestering their mothers for a drink were healthy. He was looking for ones that weren’t. He nudged Thunder lightly and they moved off to check the edges of the feed ground and the area beyond. Mother cows liked to hide their calves in tall grass and against sagebrush while they went to eat their breakfast.
He was close to the fence when he heard a cow’s distress call. Over the small rise and in a hollow backing onto a poplar stand was a cow in labor. Ben skirted around the back of the cow to take a better look at her. She was standing with her head down, her sides quivering. A calf’s hoof and tail poked out of her. The poor thing was coming out backwards. He knew even without trying that he’d be unable to chase her back to the corral and the cattle squeeze; she was too far gone.
Ben lightly jumped down from his saddle, careful to keep Thunder between himself and the distressed cow. Animals in pain were unpredictable and he had no desire to be flattened by an angry cow on his first day back on the ranch.
He dropped his reins on the ground, knowing Thunder wouldn’t walk away. Ben had trained him to stand when he was still a colt. He opened the buckle on his saddlebag and pulled out his calf pullers. He took a deep breath and keeping his eyes fixed on the cow, he slowly made his way towards her. Ben could hear Thunder behind him tearing grass up with his teeth; he wouldn’t go far.
The cow let out another bellow as Ben drew near, but she was too preoccupied to pay him much attention. She swished her tail when he grasped the wet leg of the calf but didn’t move besides to strain against the burden inside her and bellow again.
Ben gave an experimental tug on the leg he had a hold of as she pushed, but the calf didn’t budge. The contraction stopped and the cow let out a low moan. He worked quickly and slipped the loop of the calf puller over the exposed hoof before slipping his arm up inside the cow, feeling around for the other back leg. The cow’s next contraction nearly broke his arm but he managed to find the other leg. It was tucked up against its body. The cow bellowed again and swished her tail at Ben as he maneuvered the leg backwards and out into daylight. He put the other loop of the calf puller on the foot. He didn’t have to wait long for the next contraction.
The cow’s tail swatted him in the face, covering him with God knew what as he pulled and she pushed. He rubbed his face on his shoulder as best he could but he could still taste things he had no desire to taste. The smell of birth was all around him and was soaking into his pores. He was sure he’d be able to smell this experience for days.
The muscles in Ben’s arms strained, the cow gave one final bellow and the calf popped out. Ben quickly swiped the birth bag from its face, unhooked its feet from the pullers and stepped out of the cow’s way.
She sniffed the calf with her nose and nudged it.
He held his breath and waited.
The cow licked the calf’s face and let out a gentle moo.
“Come on, little guy,” Ben urged softly.
The calf raised its head. A surge of relief rushed through Ben’s body. Thank God. He walked back to Thunder and put the calf puller back into the saddlebag. He dug around until he found a rag all scrunched up in the bottom. He poured some water on it from the canteen he had tied to the saddle horn and washed off the birth as best he could. He’d have to have a shower as soon as he got home.
He stuffed the rag back in the saddle bag, climbed back onto Thunder and watched the cow and her calf for a few moments before turning to check the rest of the pasture. He rode to the top of a rise and surveyed the valley below him. He leaned forward, resting his right forearm on the saddle horn. Horse sweat, sagebrush and last year’s dried prairie grass assaulted his senses. They epitomized home to him. God, he loved this place. He’d been away far too long but since Rachel he couldn’t cope with the memories this piece of land held.
As kids he and his two sisters roamed these hills every spare moment they had. If he listened carefully he was sure he could still hear the echoes of their laughter.
His dad pulled his horse up alongside Thunder.
“You’ve been away too long, son,” Lance said.
Their saddles creaked as they shifted to look at each other.
“I know. I’m home now though. And this time, I ain’t leavin’.” Benjamin turned once again to the view before him and took a deep breath. “I’ve missed it.”
“Glad to hear it, ’bout time you came back where you belong. We need you around here. It’s time you started thinking of taking over from me and your mom.”
“You can’t be serious?” Ben asked in surprise. “I thought you just wanted me to come back and help you out for a year or two. What’s going on, Dad?”
The solemn look on his father’s face hit him like a fist in his gut. He’d seen that look two times before. Once when Rachel died and the other time wasn’t much better.
“What is it?” He pushed the dread back down his throat, swallowing it back down to his stomach.
His dad once again shifted in his saddle, as though Ben’s gaze made him uncomfortable.
“We want you home, is all. And we need the help. This place is getting run-down, as you can see. I can’t keep it up like I used to. We need your help and it’s time for your mom and me to enjoy what’s left of our lives. We all know how short life can be.”
Benjamin couldn’t understand why his father was avoiding his eye. It wasn’t like his dad to back down from anyone. Fear gripped his gut tighter than before.
“It isn’t Mom, is it? She’s not sick, is she?” Even he could hear the alarm creeping into his voice.
That brought his dad’s head up.
“Your mom? No son, she’s fine…it’s the ranch that’s struggling.” His dad kept his eyes locked on him while he spoke. “The last few years have taken their toll on us. Normally we could ride out this rough patch but with the extra bills we had while Rachel was sick, we’re finding it tough to make ends meet.’
Benjamin shook his head in wonder at his father.
“Why didn’t you say something sooner? I would have come back long before now.”
“We didn’t want to ask. Your mother and I know what a tough time you’ve had in the last few years, what with Rachel and then Jenna. Well, we wanted you to be able to come back on your own accord, when you were ready. You just took longer than we expected, is all.” His dad grinned at him. “We had to ask you back in fear you’d never come on your own.”
It was Ben’s turn to avoid his gaze. He looked out across the pasture instead. He didn’t want to think about how he’d run away.
“How bad is it?” he asked.
“Pretty bad, but I’ve got something up my sleeve. I’ll show you the books when we get home. Come on, we’ll check the rest of the herd and then I’ll show you.”
Benjamin watched his dad ride down the steep slope and head towards the dugout to check the last of the cows. Calving was just getting started and the cows needed to be checked frequently. Ben found it hard to turn and ride in the opposite direction to check the far end of the pasture; all he wanted to do was head for home and take a look at those books.
Damn, he knew he shouldn’t have stayed away so long.