The Last Ranch (20 page)

With the army's closure of the state highway across the Tularosa Basin and the demise of Engle to virtually a ghost town, Matt had switched all of his business dealings to Hot Springs, the Sierra County seat nestled in low, rock-strewn, sandy hills along the Rio Grande. The natural mineral springs drew some tourist business to the town, as did the nearby Elephant Butte Reservoir, which when finished in 1916 created a manmade lake forty miles long and tamed a long stretch of the often wandering, sometimes destructive river. But mostly the town thrived on local commerce, government services, and a hospital to treat children with polio that had been built during the Great Depression. A number of motels on the main drag catered to motorists traveling along US Highway 85, a major roadway now completely paved that more or less paralleled the river from Las Cruces to Santa Fe, and there was the usual mix of bars, diners, and assorted stores and businesses that supplied the various needs of the citizenry. Yet the town remained devoid of charm to the point that it rarely made a favorable impression on anyone, including the folks who lived there.

With the completion of spring works on the 7-Bar-K, Matt left Jim Sawyer at the cabin to keep an eye on the cow and calf herd in the north pasture, said goodbye to a rejuvenated Patrick at the ranch house, who'd promised to take good care of the ponies, and headed first to Engle to pick up the mail, then on to Hot Springs to do banking and pay some bills before driving to Las Cruces to see Mary.

In Engle at the little general store that also served as the post office, he collected his mail and sat outside in the truck reading Mary's letters. There were six, all dated before he'd sent her a short note apologizing for his delay in corresponding. He read them in order and as the tone changed from Mary's usual cheerful affection to her worry about his silence, Matt's alarm escalated. In one letter she asked him to call on a Saturday morning and promised to wait by the telephone until he did so. Why would she want to do that? Had something bad happened? Was she sick? He shuddered at the thought of losing her to some illness. Or did she ask him to call so she could politely throw him over by long distance to avoid any face-to-face unpleasantness?

Why not?
Matt speculated. An absent boyfriend who lived to hell and gone on a ranch outside of nowhere wasn't the greatest catch for an educated, good-looking woman who could have her pick of any of the eligible town bachelors. The mere thought of losing her to another man depressed him. What had he done to screw up so badly, other than by necessity being out of touch for a very short time? Surely, it wasn't just that.

Early March winds had kicked up on the Jornada and dust whipped through the open truck windows, coating Matt and everything inside. The hell with going to Hot Springs. He put her letters in the glove box and cranked the engine. Ranch business could wait; Mary was too important. He thought about trying to
call her from the pay phone outside the train station, but most likely she was still in her classroom at school. He wheeled south, anxious and troubled to learn what awaited him in Las Cruces.

***

I
t was long past school hours when Matt arrived in Las Cruces. At the apartment, Erma's car was gone from the street and there was no answer to his knock at the door. The landlady, Mrs. Lorenz, told him the girls had left earlier all dressed up to go out, although she had no idea where—but after all it was a Friday evening. For several hours, until hunger got the best of him, he waited in the truck for Mary to return while Mrs. Lorenz every now and then suspiciously peeked at him through a window. He decided to leave the truck parked in front of the apartment so that Mary would know he was around in case she arrived home before he returned, and walked the few blocks to a diner on Main Street, where a group of noisy soldiers from the proving ground had commandeered three booths at the back of the establishment and were chowing down on food that was at least a peg or two better than the usual army mess-hall fare.

He sat at the counter eavesdropping on the boisterous jabbering of the young men in uniform as he ate a meal of broiled pork chops, green beans, and mashed potatoes with gravy. Finished, he left two dollars on the counter to cover the check and the tip and returned to Mary's apartment. The lights were on inside, cars were arriving, and Erma was at the open front door gaily greeting several well-dressed couples. Record-player music and the hum of lively conversation drifted from inside.

Matt balked and retreated to the street corner. It was most definitively a party that he hadn't been invited to attend. More cars
arrived, filling up parking spaces on both sides of the street. Gus and Consuelo Merton showed up, as did several other college professors Matt recognized.

For better or worse, he decided to get it over with. He used his handkerchief to wipe his boots clean, brushed the dust off his jeans, took a deep breath, marched to the front porch, and knocked on the door. Erma appeared, blocked the doorway, and looked him up and down.

“Oh, it's you,” she said flatly.

“Sorry to intrude on the party, but I'd like to speak to Mary if she's free.”

Erma stood aside. “Come in.”

Matt stalled. “What's the occasion?”

A hint of delight that Erma couldn't suppress danced in her eyes. “We're celebrating the opening of the inaugural student art league juried show on campus. My watercolor of the Organ Mountains took a first-place blue ribbon.”

“Congratulations,” Matt said, sincerely pleased for her accomplishment. He knew how much her art meant to her. “That's wonderful.”

“Thank you.” Erma's standoffishness cracked a tiny bit and she managed a smile. “Mary's inside. Last I saw her she was in the kitchen.”

“Should I duck when she sees me?”

Erma stepped back. “That will be entirely up to you.”

The front room was filled with guests clutching wineglasses, smoking cigarettes, and chatting to one another with great gusto. He was halfway across the room when Gus Merton intercepted him.

“Where have you been?” he thundered, clasping a hand on his shoulder.

“Wrestling with overprotective mother cows and skirmishing with the US Army,” Matt replied with a grin.

“Ah, the plights of the modern-day rancher in the wilds of New Mexico,” Gus replied with a sympathetic smile. “I want to hear all about it. Are you here for the weekend?”

“I plan to be.”

“Good. Come to dinner at the hacienda tomorrow. Bring Mary.”

Matt shrugged. “I sure will, if she's free.”

Gus raised his chin in the direction of the kitchen. “By all means, find out if she can join us. Consuelo will be sorely disappointed if she can't.”

He gave Matt a gentle push toward the kitchen as he turned to speak to a matronly woman obviously eager to gain his full attention.

In the kitchen Mary was deep in conversation with a good-looking fella Matt didn't know. When she saw him, she broke away and hurried over.

“I saw your truck when we got home,” she said tonelessly. “Let me get my jacket and we can talk outside.”

Matt nodded. “Okay.”

On the sidewalk, she silently led him away from the party.

“Are you upset with me?” he asked as they reached the corner.

Mary stopped, turned on her heel and faced him under the dim glow of the street lamp. “I have something to tell you. I'm pregnant.”

Matt took a breath and sighed in relief. “That's it?”

“Excuse me?”

A smile lit up his face. Relieved and delighted by the news, he grabbed her by both arms. “I thought you were going to dump me. We're going to have a baby?”

Mary could hear the pleasure in his voice. She bit her lip to keep from crying and nodded. “Yes, we are.”

Matt wrapped her in his arms. “Marry me.”

He didn't question her, doubt her, or retreat from her. All her fears that he might do so evaporated. His instant and complete commitment to her was so overwhelming it felt almost surreal. “Are you sure that's what you want to do?”

His arms tightened around her. “Yes, I am. Will you?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Mary answered.

“Gus and Consuelo have invited us to dinner tomorrow night. Other than Erma, I'd like them to be the first to know.”

“That's perfect,” Mary said, squeezing his hand. “But tonight you're all mine.”

Giddily, she led him back to Erma's party.

They entered the apartment and spotted Erma across the room, who took one look at their silly, lovestruck smiles and rushed over to hug them both.

***

T
he next morning, Erma was gone from the apartment when Matt and Mary got up. The party mess had been cleared away and there was a pot of fresh coffee on the stove along with a note from Erma saying she had gone off to meet with her Saturday-morning drawing group and would be back early in the afternoon.

Over breakfast they discussed how they wanted to get married. They decided on a simple ceremony with a few friends in attendance, including Gus and Consuelo Merton; Mary's landlady, Mrs. Lorenz; and Jimmy Kendell, the navy vet they both liked. Of course, Erma would be the maid of honor and Matt wanted Al Jennings as his best man.

Matt asked Mary about inviting her parents, but she had no desire to do so. However, she wanted Patrick to give her away.

“He can be mulish. What if he refuses?”

“If you tell him he's going to be a grandfather soon, he'll come,” Mary predicted. “I'd also like Jim and Millie to be there.”

“Anyone else?” Matt queried.

Mary shook her head. “Not right now, but we have to keep it small since we have to pay for everything ourselves.”

When the breakfast dishes were done, they walked to a downtown jewelry store, where Mary decided, much to an eager salesperson's dismay, that she didn't want a diamond engagement and wedding ring set; just a plain gold band would do. She picked one that fit perfectly. Given the difference in price between diamond rings and a gold band, Matt gladly paid for it on the spot.

They got back to the apartment before noon. Once inside, half-starved for each other and in a trembling rush to make love, they started tugging at their clothes, laughing, falling half-naked on the couch. They'd barely put themselves back together when Erma burst through the front door.

“Am I interrupting?” she asked innocently, taking in Mary's disheveled hair and the lipstick smudges on Matt's face.

Mary bounced off the couch. “Nope, your timing was perfect.” With a mischievous grin, she reached into her purse and showed Erma the gold band.

“Oh, my, you two didn't waste any time. It's beautiful.” She faked a pout. “Hank never gave me one, the bastard.” She shook off the memory with a brilliant smile. “But on to happier matters. So when are you getting hitched?”

“We haven't gotten that far yet,” Matt replied with a grin.

“Except you're my bridesmaid,” Mary added.

“Of course I am.” Erma dropped her sketchpad on the side
table and sank into the easy chair opposite the couch. “Let's dream up something for your wedding.”

Over the next hour they made a list. They'd need a license, the names of people to invite, a date, time, and place for the wedding and the same for a small reception to follow. What should they serve at the reception? Did they want a preacher, a judge, or a justice of the peace to marry them? What about flowers? Certainly a new dress for Mary and a new suit for Matt were called for. And what about the wedding pictures? Did they want music at the reception?

Finally, Matt threw up his hands. “Whoa.”

“What?” Erma asked, looking quickly up from the notebook she was using to keep the list.

“I don't mean to throw cold water on the plans, but we need to keep this shindig small and not too expensive.”

“What do you suggest?” Erma asked sternly, unwilling to budge from her personal idea of exactly what her very best friend's wedding should be like.

Mary gently took the notebook from Erma's hand. “We don't have to rush. We'll figure something out.”

Erma sighed, stood, and reached for her sketchbook. “My first and probably only attempt to actually plan a wedding and I get shot down.” She sniffed her hand and made a face. “No matter, I have to bathe and change anyway. We were out all morning sketching cows at the college Ag barn. What lovely, smelly creatures they are, but Maynard Dixon I ain't.”

She charged up the stairs before Mary could accuse her of being melodramatic. “We can pare it down,” Mary reassured Matt. “I have some money set aside if we need to use it.”

Matt shook his head. “You hold on to that money. Tonight at dinner, we'll ask Gus and Consuelo for their advice. I bet they can
at least put us on to a judge willing to marry us, and give us some ideas on a place to rent for the reception.”

Mary nodded absentmindedly, cocked her head, and listened. “Hush, Erma's running the tub.” She slid close to Matt and started unbuttoning her blouse.

***

T
hat night, over a glass of wine in the library before sitting down to dinner, they announced their engagement to Gus and Consuelo, who, delighted by the news, demanded that the wedding and reception be held at their casa. Gus would arrange with a friend who was a retired district judge to officiate, Consuelo would oversee preparations for an early afternoon wedding ceremony in the large, high-walled, enclosed courtyard, with a reception immediately to follow near the adjacent outdoor kitchen, where tables and chairs would be set up for the guests. Consuelo would choose the menu and do the cooking, Gus would select the spirits, and the food and drink would be served buffet-style. It would all be very easy and informal. In case of inclement weather, everything would simply be moved inside to the spacious living and dining rooms.

Matt's offer to pay for the cost of the reception was dismissed out of hand. All they needed from the couple, Consuelo announced, beaming with pleasure, was a date for the wedding and the number of invited guests. Mary decided on the last Saturday in March, three weeks hence. She required at least that much time to prepare. She needed to buy a dress, pick out shoes, select the proper stationery, address and mail invitations—plus do a dozen other little things.