A Randall Thanksgiving

“Mom,” Melissa pleaded.

Finally, Camille looked at her husband. “I need some surgery and I want to wait until after the holidays. That’s all.”

“What kind of surgery?”

Melissa said nothing, but kept her gaze pinned on her mother’s face.

“A—a hysterectomy.” Camille turned away again, as if she was ashamed.

Griff sank down in the chair beside his wife. “Why?”

Melissa looked at her dad and nodded encouragingly.

Camille remained turned away. In a whisper, she said, “I have a tumor on my ovary.”

“And a hysterectomy will take care of it?”

She nodded.

“Then why are you going to wait?”

“Thanksgiving is coming and Melissa is here and—”

“Nonsense,” Griff said, cutting her off. “You’re not telling me something.” He put his arms around Camille. “Honey, what is it?”

She turned then and buried her face in his shoulder. Griff held her close, giving her time to pull herself together. Then he nudged her. “Come on, honey, tell me everything.”

Camille sat up slowly. “There’s a possibility I have cancer.”

Her words were brisk, businesslike, but Griff stared at her as if she’d just released a bomb. “What? Then you need to have the surgery at once! Isn’t that true, Melissa?”

“Caroline said the sooner they do the operation, the more likely Mom can recover.”

“But I haven’t finished Christmas shopping, and there’s Thanksgiving dinner,” Camille protested.

“Mom, I—”

Camille speared her with a sharp look. “Don’t tell me it’s for the grandchildren again, Melissa,” she ordered sternly. “I’ve been waiting for them so long I’ve just about given up!”

Griff reached out and took her face in his hands, bringing her attention back to him. “Do it for me, sweetheart. I can’t make it without you. I need you healthy and happy for a long time. Remember, you promised to grow old with me.” He looked into her eyes. “Do it for me. Have the surgery now.”

Camille’s eyes filled with tears and she nodded.

Griff hugged her then, tightly, and as he held her, he told Melissa, “Call Caroline right now.”

She did as her father asked. As Caroline checked her and Jon’s schedules, Melissa kept her eyes on her parents, sitting there at the table in each other’s arms. It was as if her mother was drawing strength from her husband’s embrace. After all these displays of affection, it still amazed Melissa how much they loved each other. She couldn’t help wondering if she’d ever find that kind of love. She’d certainly thought she had, but she hadn’t come close.

Caroline came back on the line. “Melissa, we can do the surgery in the morning if your mom is willing. That way we won’t have to adjust our schedules, because we have nothing planned for Sunday.”

“Really? You don’t mind?”

“No, we think it will be better. However, it’s started snowing and this is supposed to be a big storm. She should come in now and spend the night. That way we’ll have her all prepped for the morning.”

“Okay. That’s what we’ll do. Thanks, Caro.”

She got off the phone and told her parents what her cousin had said.

Her mother looked petrified. “Now? But I was going to try to get more done before—”

Griff cut her off. “That’s great, Melissa. I’m going in with your mother and I’ll spend the night there with her.”

“I’ll go, too.”

“No, child, your mother and I will be together. You come in the morning for the surgery. Okay?”

Melissa leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “Okay, Dad.” She knew her father had been hard hit by the news and wanted time with his wife. “But you promise to take good care of her.”

“You know I will. Now, go help her pack a bag, please.”

“Why is it that I have no say in what’s happening to me?” Camille complained.

“Because you never put yourself first, my love. But this time you have to.” He kissed her before he said, “I’m going to go talk to John before we leave.”

When he went outside, Griff saw someone parked near the barn. He hurried out of the chilly wind to find the owner of the truck inside, talking to his son.

“Harry! It’s good to see you. Why didn’t you come up to the house?”

“Hi, Griff. Good to see you, too. I had some information that I figured you’d need as soon as possible. At this time of the day, I thought you’d be out here.”

“What kind of information?”

Harry told him about the cattle rustlers and the need to move the herd.

John spoke up. “I was just coming in to tell you, Dad. We don’t have much time before dark.”

Griff stood there, staring at them. “I can’t help you, Son.”

“What are you talking about, Dad? Even if we could afford the loss, we don’t want to let these guys get away with rustling, do we?”

“No, Son, but your mother is going for surgery as soon as I can get her to the hospital. I just found out about it. She was planning on delaying the operation until Melissa went back to France, but it can’t wait.”

“Is she all right?” John asked, fear in his voice.

“She will be, but the surgery has to be done at once,” Griff said.

“I’ll stay and help you, John, if you’ve got a horse for me,” Harry said.

“You don’t have to do that,” he protested in a slightly embarrassed tone.

“Son, learn to take help when it’s offered.” Griff turned to Harry. “Thanks. We appreciate it.”

“What about Melissa? Is she going with you?” John asked.

“No, she’s coming in in the morning. You can come, too, if you want.”

“Yeah, I will. But ask Melissa if she can help us now.”

Harry stared at John as if he were crazy. But Griff just nodded. “Saddle a horse for her. I’ll send her right out.”

After Griff walked out of the barn, Harry turned to his friend. “Your sister will help us move the herd? Do you think she can? I mean, she probably hasn’t ridden in years.”

“Naw, she doesn’t spend all her time making jewelry.”

“She makes jewelry?”

“Yeah. You didn’t know?”

“Hell, I didn’t even know you had a sister, John!” Harry said in exasperation.

John grinned. “I guess I don’t talk enough. You want to borrow some chaps?”

“Yeah, if you’ve got a spare pair. They’ll help keep the cold out.”

“Sure, here you go,” John said, taking down a pair from the Peg-Board on the wall. “You don’t have to warn anyone else?”

“Nope. You’re the last on the list. We split the ranches up, Mike and I. I need to call him and let him know where I am, though.”

“That’s fine. You need a phone?”

“No, I’ll use my cell.” He called the sheriff and told him he was going to help John move his herd, and would be in later. Mike agreed to keep an eye on everything, since Harry had the late shift.

Just as he turned off the phone, the barn door opened and Melissa came in. Her eyes, he noticed, were suspiciously red.

“You all right, sis?” John asked at once.

After a quick look at her brother, Melissa said, “Yes, of course. Mom and Dad are getting in the car if you want to go tell her goodbye.”

“Yeah, I’ll go do that. I haven’t got your horse saddled yet, but I’ll do it when I get back.”

Harry watched John leave the barn. Then he said abruptly, “Which horse is yours?”

“Maybelle here. She’s eight years old, so she can still go.”

Harry moved over to check out at the gray mare. “Yeah, she looks good. Are you sure you can stay on?”

“Excuse me? You’re talking to a Randall, I’ll have you know.”

“Yeah, but you’re a Randall with a French accent,” Harry said with a wry grin. “Which saddle is yours?”

“This one,” she said, pointing to one hanging nearby. “But I can saddle her myself.”

“No need. Save your energy.” He grabbed her saddle and went to work on Maybelle. “John said he has his biggest herd over in the pasture by the county road. And we don’t have a lot of time.”

“Do you know how to ride?” Melissa asked, a smile on her lips.

Harry stopped saddling the horse and looked at her. A man in Rawhide who didn’t know how to ride? What did she think he was?

“Of course I know how to ride. And drive cattle.” He tilted his hat and gave her a sharp stare. “I would venture a guess I’ve had more experience at it than you have.”

She put her hands on her hips and took a step forward. “You think so, cowboy? Remember, I grew up here.”

Harry gave her an assessing look. She’d lost her drawl and her hair was so short and spiky; even her jeans were designer. Sometimes, he had to admit, it was hard to remember she was from Wyoming. Aside from her little temper tantrums, she seemed sophisticated and…worldly. Anyone could see she’d spent a considerable amount of time outside of Rawhide.

He laughed to himself. Actually, he couldn’t wait to see Little Miss Parisian out there riding herd.

He tugged on Maybelle’s saddle, found it tight, and stepped back, waving his hand with a flourish. “Your mount awaits, m’lady.” Then he cracked a smile and added, “We’ll just see who’s the rider here.”

Melissa took the dare. She speared him with a look and said, “You’re on.”

Grabbing Maybelle’s reins, she led the mare out of the barn, leaving Harry to follow.

Not that it was a bad view, he admitted. He was developing quite a liking for those tight, designer jeans.

John met up with them outside the barn, having said goodbye to his mother. “We’re ready,” Harry told him.

John nodded resolutely, concern for his mother temporarily replaced by determination to get the job done. He glanced over at his sister. “Get a pair of chaps. It’s going to be cold out there. You have good gloves?”

Melissa smiled. “Yes, John,” she said patiently. “You know I’ve done this before.”

Harry snickered, but she ignored him. Instead she pointed to a pile of scarves she’d left inside the barn door. “Dad gave me those. Said we’d need them for the cold.” She looked at Harry then. “If you wrap one around your face and tie it in back, it’ll serve as a kerchief, and keep you warm, too.”

Biting back a comment, he put one on, then reached out and tied Melissa’s behind her short hair. He expected a complaint but got none. Nor did he get a thank-you.

She pulled a hat on her head, climbing into the saddle and headed out.

John rode alongside Harry into the cold, windy pasture. Had it been any other day of the week, They’d have had a number of cowboys to help out. But it was Saturday, and all the men had already gone into town. Probably all lined up for a beer already, Harry figured. Just like last night, when he’d first seen Melissa.

That scene had replayed in his head a few times—how beautiful she’d looked sitting there, sipping her beer. He wondered how different things would have turned out if he’d taken her up on her request for a dance.

He’d never know.

Once they reached the pasture by the county road, there was no time for thinking. There was a herd to gather.

Snow had begun to fall and the temperature was dropping sharply. John kept looking up at the sky, but Harry didn’t bother. Mike had already alerted them to the forecast, and it was not good. They were in for a substantial snowfall, on top of what was already on the ground.

Luckily, the herd was mostly Herefords. Their red coats showed up better in the swirling snow.

They rounded up the large herd, each working hard at the job. Even Melissa. She rode with skill and knew her way around the herd, Harry would give her that. As much as it pained him to admit it, she held her own.

By the time they dragged themselves back to the barn, it was after eight o’clock and the three of them were exhausted. The buffeting of the wind was enough to wear anyone out.

Melissa hopped down off of her mare. “If you’ll unsaddle Maybelle and give her some oats,” she told he men, “I’ll get up to the house and start supper for us.”

Harry could only stare at her. The words came out of his mouth before he could censor them. “You ride herd and cook, too? Man, you’re a rancher’s dream!”

As she strode by him, she tipped her nose in the air. “I’m not so sure that a rancher would be my dream, though.”

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