The Widows of Wichita County

November 11

Montano Ranch

Anna watched the snow whirl in drifts on the land between her ranch and Zack Larson's place. She had not been off her land in days and wondered if he had. The horses she worked with were inside the barns, and exercised in the huge indoor arena Davis had built a few years ago.

She told herself she was just restless, needing the exhilaration of a long ride, but she knew it was more. It made no sense, but she missed seeing Zack. Or rather, she missed the slim possibility that she might see him working along his fence line, or checking his mail in town, or working his cattle, or lifting his housekeeper's vacuum into her truck.

Anna's sightings of Zack Larson were pure chance, nothing more. Only she had seen his housekeeper, Bella, sliding along the frozen road to his place a few hours ago. If the old woman was out, surely everyone but her had given up waiting out the weather.

Anna paced the wall of windows that faced his house. She was acting the fool, she told herself. If she knew the man she would probably dislike him. She had not given him a second thought until he offered to give her a hug if she ever needed one.

What kind of man makes such an offer?

"Not any man I have ever known," she answered, wondering for the hundredth time what it would be like to fold into his arms.

She wasn't sure she even wanted to talk to him. They would probably have nothing to say to one another. "If I could just have the hug," she whispered to herself. "Then I could stop thinking about him." But of course, that was impossible. She could not just walk up to his place and demand her hug. "But he did offer."

Anna circled the house once more. The remains of the half-burned oil rig sat low along the horizon. Now, covered with snow, it looked harmless, almost like a sculpture.

As Anna stared, Bella's old pickup rattled down the road from Zack's place. The old Chevy was almost to her drive before she realized it had intentionally turned off the road to her house.

She pressed her palms against her face, trying to erase signs that she had been crying as she rushed to answer the doorbell. No one ever came to see her except her brother, and he never rang the bell. He used to knock as he opened the door, but since Davis died he had even forgotten that formality.

"H-hello." She tried to smile as she greeted the housekeeper standing on her porch. The old woman wore a bright green parka and snow-white earmuffs.

"Hidy." Bella nodded. She crossed her hands in front of her, ignoring the way her huge purse flapped against her ample stomach. "I thought I'd stop by and see if you needed anything, Mrs. Montano. You out here all alone and me making a trip right by your place every week. I would be happy to stop by and pick something up for you if you have a need."

Anna held the door open wide. "P-please come in." She fought down her nervousness and made herself say each word slowly. "It is very kind of you to come."

"Oh, it weren't no trouble. I clean for Zack Larson ever' Wednesday." Bella looked around as if hoping to find something amiss that needed her special touch. "Got that pretty music playing, I see."

"It is the London Symphony Orchestra. I heard them once when I was a child. My mother took me."

"Oh." Bella nodded as if Anna were speaking Italian. "I see you hung your pictures. It looks real pretty in here."

Anna did not meet Bella's eyes. "I was just trying them in a few places. I was about to take them down."

"Don't see no need. They look fine. Add a lot to this room if you ask me."

"Thank you." Anna motioned toward the kitchen. "I am stopping for tea. Would you like to join me, Miss Bella?"

"Just Bella." The older woman held her chin high. "And I'd love some tea."

Anna led her to the kitchen, floored with huge Saltillo tiles framed by dark wood cabinets and walls bricked to the nine-foot ceiling.

Motioning for Bella to sit at the breakfast table, Anna finished brewing the tea as she watched the housekeeper out of the corner of her eye. Silhouetted against the bay window, overlooking the barren land, Bella appeared totally in her element, almost as though she were bred from generations born to this open space.

Bella's purse rested in her lap as if she planned a quick getaway.

Anna pulled down a tin of cookies, then smiled. "Call me Anna, please. And make yourself comfortable."

"All right. Anna it is." Bella set her purse at her feet and pulled off her earmuffs. After all, she was about to have tea. Real English tea, from china cups.

She stroked the white fur. "I won this at bingo in town one cold night last year. Zack always kids me and tells me I'm wearing my mink. They're real mink, too, said so right on the front of the box they came in."

"They are very nice." Anna sat a cup in front of Bella.

"Oh, before I forget, Zack Larson says to give you his regards and hopes you're weathering this storm without any problems."

Before Anna could answer, Bella added, "I told him I wasn't going to pass along that. I ain't one for passing notes. Told him if he wanted to hand out his regards he needs to do it in person."

Anna grinned. "And what did Mr. Larson say?"

Bella smiled back. "He said he might just do that some time."

They sat by the windows and talked about the weather and horses. Bella knew very little about fine horses, but she knew how to ask questions. Anna could not remember having such a delightful tea. From the look on Bella's face, neither could she. Anna had been raised on a horse ranch and Bella on a dryland farm, but the two had many things in common.

Eventually, the conversation settled back on Zack. Bella was not a gossip, but her motherly love for the man was apparent. She bragged about him. "He might be a loner, set in his ways, but he's honest. And he loves his land. He's got a sense of humor that'll tickle your funny bone all the way to your liver."

Anna listened.

"He's had his share of trouble, but ain't many who get through this life without taking their full slice. His mother died while he was still in school, and he had to watch his father drink himself to death within the year. Most thought he'd lose the ranch after that, him not even being eighteen and all, but he's a fighter."

"He is lucky to have you as a friend." Anna patted Bella's hand.

"I'm the lucky one. He's as near to family as I got, I reckon."

Bella stood to leave.

Carlo suddenly plowed his way through the front door. He still wore clothes like he had worn in Italy, making him stand out even more among the cowhands. He might be short, but his stocky build and quick movements made him appear menacing even when he was not angry.

Anna stepped in front of Bella.

Carlo was halfway across the wide living room waving papers before she spoke. "B-Bella, I would like you to meet my brother… Carlo. He takes care of the ranch."

Carlo remembered his manners. He made a quick, slight bow. He had the same coloring as Anna, but his dark hair and eyes made him look sinister.

"This is the woman who cleans?" he snapped.

Anna fought to hide her embarrassment. His English might be broken, but she knew Bella understood every word. "Yes. She stopped by to check on me."

"Well." He switched to Italian. "Tell her we need her to come and clean every week, but we will pay no more than Davis did."

"I can do it," Anna answered in her native tongue.

"No! Everything is to remain the same as before. I will do that for Davis." His words came fast and sounded even more furious in Italian. "You will not disgrace him by having people believe you are too poor to afford a housekeeper."

Anna nodded as he turned and walked out without saying another word to Bella.

Anna faced the older woman. "It was kind of you to come. I am sorry about my brother. He is displeased with me, not you. Back home, the women left the workings of the ranches to the men. He is a little old-fashioned. He resents me always asking questions."

Bella huffed. "I could figure that out without understanding the language. What got him so thorny today?"

Anna smiled at her use of words. She could study language in school forever and never be able to add that kind of color in her vocabulary. "He does not like me hanging my paintings in this room. You see my husband and he were best friends and Carlo knows Davis would not have approved."

"Tell him you don't give a bootlegger's snort." Bella put on her earmuffs.

"I am afraid I have never been able to tell a man in my family anything." She looked at her painting. "Bella, could you come back next week? Maybe every week for a while?"

"Your house don't need cleaning," Bella answered. "It wouldn't be fair to take your money."

"Would you consider coming to sit for me? I would like to paint you. I will pay you the same as I did when you cleaned."

"What? I never heard of such a thing." She rubbed her face as if she could scrub off the blush. "I wouldn't have to take off my clothes or anything, would I?"

Anna laughed, truly laughed for the first time in months. "Oh, no. I want to paint the character in your face. I want to try to capture a little of your spirit on canvas."

"Well…" Bella looked as if she had been asked to try on a two-piece bathing suit. "I guess it would be all right."

"We could have tea while I work," Anna offered.

"With some of them butter cookies you called biscuits?" Bella asked.

"Of course. It will be such fun for me to paint something besides flowers and landscapes."

"Well, all right. I could come when I finish with Zack's place ever' week."

When Anna closed the door, she smiled. It would not be so sad that she had to take all her paintings to the back room now that Bella would sit for her. She could clean her own house, and Carlo would never know.

Just after dark, she took all but one of the paintings down before Carlo returned to the house. He looked as if he had been drinking, but Anna knew better than to say anything. Davis's death and the extra responsibility had weighed heavily on her brother.

Carlo wanted her to sign some papers. When she asked about them, he angrily replied, "It's just the payroll!" Then he changed the subject to the remaining painting.

She signed the papers in frustration and stood, planning to tell him this was her house and the painting would stay.

Only a few words were out before she felt the broad side of his hand against her face. The blow would have knocked her off her feet if she had not grabbed the table.

Anna stepped away from him, shocked. Despite all their arguments, he had never struck her. The sting on her face was nothing compared to the blow against her pride.

He seemed as shocked as she. "I did not mean to do that," he mumbled and headed toward the door. By the time he stood in the doorway, he had regained some of his control. "Have the painting gone before I return. Davis would not have wanted it there. Whenever he talked of your work, it was always to joke."

Anna stared at the closed door for several minutes. How could she have ever hoped her life might be better without Davis? Carlo moved into power one step at a time. And she had let him, Anna realized. She stood by silently, as always, without fighting. She hid away. Even before Davis was in the ground, Carlo had taken the reins of running the ranch and her life.

Anna walked the house for hours trying to think of some way out. But in the end, she knew she could do nothing. First her father, then Davis and now Carlo. All her life she had been trained to stay in the background and say nothing. And now, when she might have stood alone, she realized she was too weak.

As the night aged, Anna felt more anger against herself than Carlo. The thought that he would now control her frightened her more than she wanted to admit. She would fight him in little ways that he would never know. Her mother had done the same thing with their father. Anna never saw her challenge him directly, but she moved behind his back, cutting away at his authority, sabotaging his plans.

Anna stared out into the night at the lone light shining from the north. Carlo would not repress her. Not completely.

She grabbed her coat and walked out the patio door. The ground was frozen, but the moon offered enough light to see. Silently, she moved toward Larson's ranch.

When she reached the walkover, she was almost running. Tonight, she would move into the light of his porch and demand the hug he had offered a month ago.

Snow crunched under her feet as she crossed the road and stepped into the light.

Zack Larson leaned against the door frame with a cup in his hand. She knew he watched her even when she moved in the shadows.

Anna waited. Ready to run.

He did not look surprised. If he made fun of her, or made a joke, her soul would shatter into a million slivers. If he asked her one question, she knew she would stutter too badly to answer.

He leaned inside, and when he straightened, his hand held a coat instead of the cup. He walked onto the porch, putting his coat on as he neared.

Anna did not move. It was too late to turn back. Too late to explain her many reasons for being here.

She expected him to walk toward her, but he just stepped off the porch and waited.

Her heart tried to break through her ribs. She narrowed the distance between them, trying to think of something to say. Wishing she had not come. Wishing he had not been waiting.

"I…" When she was four feet from him, she shoved her hands in her pockets. Warm tears stung her icy cheeks.

"I know," he whispered and opened his arms.

Anna was not sure how she crossed the last few feet. Had he moved? Had she? All she knew was that suddenly she was in his arms, and he was hugging her against him as if their lives depended on it.

Tears came then. She leaned her face into his suede jacket and cried as he circled her with his warmth.

He did not say a word when he lifted her up and carried her to the wooden swing on the porch. With a quilt wrapped around them both, he held her close.

She cried for a while, then rested her head against his damp jacket and closed her eyes, enjoying the slow motion of the swing. The whispered sounds of the wind made it seem like they were totally alone on the planet. Their breath was smoky with frost but she was not cold. Off into the night, she heard the breeze cracking ice from the branches of mesquite trees.

She cuddled closer.

When finally, she stood to leave, he made no protest, but kept his arm across her back as he walked her to the fence.

"Th-thank you," she said as she climbed up the ladder.

"Any time," he whispered.

She was almost home when she turned around and saw him still standing at the walkover. His outline was tall and lean. She could not help but smile. Zack Larson had kept his word. No strings. No questions. Just a hug.

A hug that warmed her still.