The Last Wish Blues

by Lubrican

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Chapter Two

Bob was soaking in the Jacuzzi when Crystal opened the door and walked in like she belonged there. She went to the stero and pushed pause. Blue Oyster Cult suddenly went silent.

"I TOLD Rowdy I needed to see you as soon as you got back!" she said, almost stamping one foot. She had a clipboard in the crook of one arm.

"I'm taking a bath, here, Crystal," Bob commented dryly.

"I can see that," she said. "I'm not blind."

Crystal was twenty-five, the same age as Dannie, but the two women looked completely different. While Dannie had been a slim brunette, Crystal’s body was lush, and her head of wild, lush blond hair went with the body. Crystal had been a guest, about three or four years back, and she and her husband had come to the ranch in a last ditch effort to patch up an ailing marriage. She had a five year old boy. Bob had seen right away that the husband - he couldn't even remember the guy's name now - had been an alcoholic. He'd been rough on the staff, rough on the horses, and rough on Crystal. Before they left, Bob offered her a job as a maid, in case things didn't work out. She'd showed up with the boy two weeks later, one eye vividly blackened, and had been at the ranch ever since. She was a woman driven to succeed as a single mother, and had a quick mind that was wasted as a maid. Dannie had drafted and trained her to take over the books of the operation, freeing Dannie from that responsibility, and had later made her a more or less official assistant for bookings. She had been a natural pick to take over when Dannie was gone.

Phillip, her son, was an honorary horse hostler, since he had a way with the big animals. At nine, he was going through a growth spurt, and was the king of the stable. Crystal probably knew he was back because Phillip had been in the stable, and had taken charge of rubbing Ranger down and putting him away. He'd also told Bob that supper was probably waiting.

"I know you're not blind, Crystal," said Bob. "And I'm naked, here. Don't you think that's a little inappropriate?"

"Do you see me trying to get a peek of your precious manhood?" she growled.

"No, but it's still inappropriate," he said, smiling for the first time in months.

"What's inappropriate is for you to go off like that, without a care in the world for the rest of us, who miss her just as much as you do!"

She bit her lip, and apologized instantly.

"I'm sorry, Bob. I shouldn't have said that. It's just been so hectic around here."

"I never did anything with the bookings anyway," said Bob, relaxing. "And you're just as good at handling things as Dannie was."

She slumped. "Thank you. But I never knew how much Dannie did with things. I just helped out, and this is really different ... doing it all myself, I mean."

"You need me to hire you an assistant?" he asked. He reached for the soap.

"No, you don't have to do that. If I can just get your attention now and then ... you know ... to ask questions, and see what you think about things ... I think it would be OK then."

"OK," he agreed. "Put the Johnsons with Dusty and Billy. Don't give them three hands, or there'll be one for each girl. Those two will behave themselves. Put Kaye on a tractor, cutting the first season's hay. That will keep her out of everybody's hair except Frank, who'll have to supervise her. He's probably too old for her tastes. Rufus will take care of himself, like he always does."

Crystal looked surprised. "I wasn't worried about them! As far as I'm concerned, those tarts can all go home with bellies that will swell up. It would serve them right. But I've got a situation here that I've never run up against, and I'm going to need advice on that."

"What kind of situation?" he asked, soaping his chest and arms.

"Have you ever heard of the "Last Wish Foundation"?

"Can't say as I have," he said. "I'm going to stand up in a minute here, to wash the rest of me," he warned.

She ignored the warning.

"They work with people who are going to die, sick people, and such, and make one of their dreams come true before that happens. I got a call from them, and they want to send a cancer patient out here to live the life of a cowgirl for a week before she's too sick to stay out of bed."

"Cowgirl?" Bob stood up. He'd warned her.

Crystal stared, blushed and then turned to look at the sink.

"Yes, she's sixteen, or maybe seventeen, I can't remember. She's got a brain tumor and they can't do anything about it. It sounds like she wants to do what you've basically been doing for the last two months. You know, live off the land, camp out, look for strays ... that kind of thing."

"We can't send somebody out with her for a whole week," said Bob, frowning. "That would cost a bundle."

"Price, apparently, is no object," said Crystal, her eyes darting sideways, and then back to the sink.

"But she's sick!" objected Bob. "She can't take the rigors of the trail ... not for a week."

"That's the problem. They say that as long as we can get her here within the next two weeks, she'll be fine. They want us to squeeze her in, and we don't have any openings."

"I'll call them in the morning," said Bob. "I can't see this being a good idea."

She stood there, shifting from foot to foot.

"Is that all?"

"I guess so," she said.

"Then you can leave ... right?" He smiled, standing in front of her with a soapy, naked body.

"You've been out by yourself for two months," she said. "Don't you at least want to talk to a real live person?"

"I thought you hated men," he said.

"I do, but not ALL men," she said, as if it made perfect sense. "You're different. You're a nice man."

"I'm a nice, naked man, Crystal," he reminded her.

"I'm not talking about THAT!" she said, turning to put her back to him. "I don't think about you that way. I couldn't do that to Dannie anyway."

"Well, thanks for that," he said. His voice was neutral.

She turned to face him, her eyes blazing. "You're a good man, Bob, a DECENT man, probably the most decent man I know, and you deserve to have happiness in your life. You deserve a good woman, and I know I'm not that woman. I'm not ready for that, and neither are you anyway. But some day the hurt will lessen enough that you CAN be happy again, Bob, and I just want you to ... to ..." She slumped. "You helped me when I needed it. I just want you to be ready to help yourself when the time comes. That's all."

Bob stared at her. He didn't know what to say.

"I know that sounds like some kind of come-on," she said, her voice intense. "But it's not. I like you, but not that way ... not the way that sounded. I've moved on, and I know what that feels like. The memories never go away completely, but life CAN be good again. I just want you to understand that. We ALL miss Dannie, but you can't make that the center of your life. I'm babbling, and I can't say what I mean ..."

"Thank you," Bob said. It was amazing to him that this woman could be so heartfelt about a man who was just her boss. Then again, the whole ranch was like a big family in many ways. People came and went, but not often. Most people, once they settled in, liked the life, despite the long, hard hours. "I'll try to remember that."

"If you don't, I'll remind you," she said, turning away again. "Dannie had good taste in men, and I'll be hanged if I see that going to waste."

"Yes, Ma'am," Bob said, a tired smile coming to his face.

"All right then," said the woman, straightening her shoulders. She looked over one shoulder, boldly staring right at him. "And next time, I expect you to be decent when you call me in for a conference."

She grinned and left before he could manage a reply.

The next morning Bob called the Foundation, and explained that his operation probably wasn't going to be appropriate for a cancer-ridden young girl. He expected that to be the end of it, but within an hour there was a phone call for him.

"Mr. Nivens? Brad Jeffers, here. You don't know me, but I'm the one who wanted to book a trip to the ranch for one of out clients. I'm with the Last Wish Foundation. I got the message you gave our receptionist, and wanted to talk to you a little more about this. I'd really like for you to reconsider."

Bob sighed, and repeated his concern that a sick young girl probably wouldn't do well on a working ranch.

"Mr. Nivens," said Brad, "I've been over your brochure, and talked to one of your former customers. She's convinced that this would work, and she's familiar with the kinds of clients we have. We think the girl, in this case, could handle it. All she really wants is an extended trail ride, with maybe a little light work thrown in.

"You've seen our brochure?" asked Bob. "Who's the customer?"

"Her name is Tammy Hodgkins. She's the sister of one of the women I work with at the Foundation."

Bob remembered Tammy, who had come to the ranch on a free trip she'd won in a radio station giveaway that Dannie had thought might generate some business. She'd brought her husband with her. She was about five feet-one, and nobody had thought she'd be able to hack it. She'd proved them all wrong, while her big, bad husband had turned out to be a mamma's boy. If Tammy knew something about this girl, and thought she could do something at the ranch, there was a fair chance she was right.

Bob wasn't sure he was doing the right thing, but he said: "I think a week is a little long. Maybe we could put together a three day ride. All she'd have to be able to do is stay on a horse, for the most part."

"Thank you so much! said Brad. We'd like to book this as quickly as possible, while she's still healthy."

"Well, that's one of the problems we have," said Bob. "We're booked solid for the next whole year. All my regular guides are tied up."

"Isn't there anybody who could take her out riding?" asked Brad. "That's primarily what she wants to do. She wants a long ride, over something other than just a walking path."

"That won't be a problem," said Bob. "We don't have anything approaching a walking path on the whole place." With more misgivings, he went on. "I guess I could take her myself. I've just gotten back from an inspection trip, and I know a couple of places I could take her to see things the average guest doesn't get to see."

"That would be PERFECT!" Brad's voice came excitedly over the phone. "I can't tell you how much we appreciate this, Mr. Nivens. This is going to mean so much to Brenda, before ..." His sudden stop reminded Bob that this would likely be the last time this girl got to do anything with a horse ... or anything else, for that matter.

"Give us a call and tell us when she'll be arriving," said Bob. "Will anybody be coming with her?"

"I don't think she has any special needs at this point. Her parents will probably come, of course, but they didn't say anything about going out with her. I'll check on that." said Dave. "I hope that's all right."

"I have no idea where we'll put them," said Bob.

"Maybe a hotel in town?" asked Brad. "We can take care of making the reservations and all that."

"I wouldn't count on that," said Bob. "The fact is that 'town', as you put it, is about forty miles away, and I wouldn't ask my worst enemy to stay in the motel there. We'll come up with something."

After he hung up, Bob stared at the phone. He had no experience with teenagers, other than having been one ten or fifteen years back. And his upbringing wasn't anything like that of other kids his age. His aging father had been a cattleman, who would never have gone into the guest business, even to save the ranch. The idea of having a bunch of greenhorns traipsing around the ranch, who didn't know one end of a cow from the other, would have horrified him. Bob had grown up working the ranch. His only girlfriend had been Dannie, and she'd told him, when they were juniors in high school that she was going to marry him.

He shied away from thinking about her.

Instead, he began making a list of things that a teenage girl, her body wracked with cancer, might be able to do without it killing her. On a working ranch, the list of things to be done was endless, and that meant that the options for a guest to get involved were endless too.

Within an hour he had a list of things that would keep the girl - and him - busy for three days. She could pick and choose what she wanted to do when she got to the ranch.

Then he remembered to find Crystal , and tell her the girl's "dream" was on again.

When the family arrived, and was met by Crystal, a group of seven guests and two hands were preparing to ride off to move a group of cattle to a higher location. The dust and noise of their departure set the stage for the meeting.

Bob sat across a coffee table in the library, from the girl and her parents. The girl looked completely normal, to Bob's eyes, just like any other teenager. While she was pale, she didn't look infirm, and her eyes were already shining as she sat, somehow looking eager. She had very big, and very blue eyes under her blond bangs.

"I've put together a list of things you might be able to do," said Bob, trying not to sound like he didn't think she could do much. He handed the list to the girl, who took it and scanned it.

"I don't care what I do, as long as I get to ride a horse a lot," she said. She launched into the story of her complaint with the trail ride she had been on in New Mexico.

"The horses we have here aren't like that," said Bob, when she finished. "They're all working horses, even the breeding mares. They respond to a rider based on how that rider acts. Horses are pretty savvy, and they can tell when someone doesn't know what they're doing. Sometimes they act up a bit with inexperienced riders."

"We don't want her getting bucked off or anything," said Linda, worriedly.

"I don't think that will happen," said Bob. Not by the time we actually take off. You both are welcome to come along," he added. "Do you like camping?"

"Me?" said Linda, her eyes, also blue, quite wide. "On a horse?"

Dave broke in smoothly. "Camping's not really our style. Brenda got a taste of it in Girl Scouts, and loves it, though. We'll be fine here. We just don't want her getting hurt."

"I'll pick the right horse for her," said Bob. "It may look strange to you all, but we'll actually let the horse pick her. If it's the right horse, I'll know it. I'll also know if it's the wrong one."

They looked doubtful, but went on to answer Bob's questions about what kind of "camping" Brenda had in mind. That word meant different things to different people. Bob was relieved to find that Brenda expected nothing more than to be able to stay dry, eat, and sleep warmly. She had camped with her girl scout troop, before she got sick, and he felt much better about roughing it, more or less, when she was able to talk intelligently about first aid, sanitation, litter control and other things that make a difference when you are separated from civilized society.

Finally Bob was satisfied that he had a working plan on what to do with the girl. The things she was asking for would run easily into three days. The Ronsons said they'd taken two weeks of vacation. They were planning on hitting some scenic spots on the way back home, and spending time with Brenda on their last vacation together.

"We'll play it by ear, then," said Bob. "We'll have a two-way radio with us. Where we're going, cell phones don't work, but we'll check in each night to let you know everything's OK. Our first stop is a good six hours ride, so we'll start in the morning. That gives you all a chance to look around, have dinner with everyone, and get a good night's sleep."

He smiled for the first time since they met him.

"I don't know how she did it, but Crystal found a room. You'll all three have to stay there tonight, but while we're gone it won't be so crowded."

How Crystal had "found" the room for the Ronson family, she hadn't told Bob. He might not have approved. She did it by talking to the hands who were taking care of a group of five men and three women who were on a corporate "team building" trip. The oddball numbers had resulted in one of the men and one of the women having single rooms. Dusty, one of the hands setting up challenges for the "team" to conquer together, grinned and said that Diane, the Vice President of Marketing, and Roger, the Vice President of offshore development, had been making moon eyes at each other ever since they'd arrived. Both were married, but no spouses had been brought along on the trip. Crystal got the group together and described Brenda's predicament, asking if there were any volunteers who would make the sacrifice of rooming together for the rest of the trip. Diane said she could stand it, "just for the sake of the poor girl" of course, and Roger said he could sacrifice his privacy too. Nobody was fooled, but nobody seemed to care either.

At present, Diane and Roger had finished moving their things into one room. It was an hour before supper, which was held, family style, in the big dining room of the ranch house. Diane remarked on how sweaty she'd gotten carrying all two of her suitcases to the new room, and how she just HAD to have a shower before dinner. Roger allowed as how he, too, probably smelled like a horse.

They ended up in the shower together, and almost didn't make supper at all. Only the knowledge that they would have all night together - not to mention they'd be missed, and somebody might come looking for them - made them stop what they were doing, to get dressed to go eat.

The next morning, after breakfast, Bob met the Ronsons at the corral. There were a dozen horses milling around, or standing placidly. Two had come over to see Bob, Ranger being one of them.

When Brenda came up, her eyes fastened on the stallion.

"Ooooo, I like that one," she sighed pointing at Ranger.

"That one's not for you," said Bob. "Mostly because he's the one I'll be riding. He's also a stallion, and he can be ornery sometimes."

"Well, how do I pick one?" the girl asked.

"Like I said, horses are smart. Let's you and me step into the corral and see what happens."

Her parents watched anxiously as he slipped the wire off the top of the gate post and took their daughter amongst the big animals. The horses seemed to drift away from the two as they walked, making room, and Bob took her to the center of the enclosure. He told her to stand still, while he stepped back. She looked a little nervous, but he talked to her in a soothing voice.

"Just stand there and think about riding," he said. "Close your eyes if it will help."

Ranger butted his shoulder from behind, and Bob reached out to stroke the big black. Nothing happened for two full minutes, and Bob told the girl to be patient, and to concentrate on how she'd feel if she was riding.

Two horses began to drift toward her. One reached its neck out and snuffed, almost in the girl's ear. She had closed her eyes and jumped. The horse drew its head back quickly and backed up, its eyes rolling. The other horse, a roan mare, seemed not to be paying any attention to the girl, but stepped closer and closer, until its head was within reach. It dropped its head, like it wanted to graze, though there was nothing to eat on the bare ground. It shook its head and stomped a hind foot twice.

"She wants you to put your hand on her neck," said Bob softly.

Brenda had kept her eyes open after being startled by the first horse, and she'd been staring at the roan. Tentatively she reached and stroked the neck, just beside the mane. The mane quivered. The horse tossed its head, pushing its neck into Brenda's hand.

"Don't be scared," said Bob quietly. "Talk to her."

"You're beautiful," said Brenda, reaching to stroke again.

The horse turned its head to face the girl, and Brenda stroked its nose.

"Your nose is so soft!" sighed Brenda. "You're just so beautiful!"

The mare nosed the girl, making her step back with the force of it, even though it wasn't violent.

"I think you've found yourself a horse," said Bob.

"What's his name?" asked the girl.

"HER name is Buttercup," said Bob.

"Buttercup?" asked Brenda, turning to look at Bob. "What kind of name is that for a cowboy horse?"

"It's a name that fits her," said Bob. "She's a sweetheart, but she's got just a little wildness in her, like the flower."

"Will she let me ride her?" asked Brenda. "I mean if she's wild and all?"

"You'll have to convince her who's boss. She's a 'jinker', which means she'll dance around when you first get on her. I'll teach you how to stay in the saddle, and you'll have to talk her into behaving."

Brenda reached with both hands to stroke either side of Buttercup's face.

"I can't believe a horse as beautiful as you would give me any trouble at all," she said to the horse. "You be a good horse, and I'll be a good rider, and we'll get along just fine."

Bob nodded, and walked back to the gate. "Bring her over here," he called out.

Brenda reached for the halter, and gave it a tug. The horse stepped out and followed her calmly.

Three hours later they were on the trail. Dave and Linda had almost had heart attacks when they watched their daughter get up on a horse that immediately jumped it's hind legs a foot off the ground. Bob had mounted her first, though, and showed Brenda what to do, and she copied him perfectly. She spoke to the horse, which jumped once more, and then settled down. They nervously waved goodbye as their daughter rode off, in the company of a man who was, for all intents and purposes, a stranger. She wasn't riding off into the sunset - the sun was high at that point - but they still had a slight feeling of dread. No one would ever get the chance to see her ride off like that again. That feeling of dread, though, was something they were acquainted with, if not used to. She was dying, and they all knew that. Knowing, though, didn't make it any easier.

"I hope she has a good time," Linda sighed.

"She's already having a good time," said Dave, resisting the urge to wipe his eyes. "What are we going to do for the next few days?"

"Worry," said Linda.

"Besides that," prodded Dave. "We're alone for the first time in a long time." The innuendo in his voice was impossible to miss.

"We've been alone every time she had to stay in the hospital," said Linda. "We're going to be alone for the rest of our lives." A tear dripped down her cheek.

"OK," said Dave, heavily, "We'll find something else to do. You want to ride a horse?"

"The things scare me half to death," said Linda, still watching the receding figures as they rode out of sight around a barn. "They always have."

"Well, then, it's time you learned how not to be scared any more."

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