Love,
Mom
Shawn stared at the email and reread parts of it. He paused to think about his sister and the changes her death wrought. His face became blank, and his lips began to quiver. His gray-blue eyes became vague and misty as the tears hung on his eyelids. He had no awareness of his tears at first, but finally he swept his arm across his face.
If only I had seen the deer! His mind traced the details of the accident, and he let out a moan as he remembered the anguish of calling Ellie’s name and receiving no reply. He shook his head and set the email aside. He reminded himself to stay present. Then he remembered that his present was not so good either.
Shawn held the fifth email, dated June 15, 2015, in his hand, feeling afraid to look at it. He wondered what he would find. Part of him didn’t care if Hank died. But he worried about his mother. How would she react? Her life had been painful and even dangerous over the past two years, but she had been so focused on her husband that she really had no life of her own.
He started to read.
Dear Shawn,
Hank died last week. I have been too busy and too tired to write before now. It was expected, but it has been really hard just the same. It has been so awful the past couple of years that I feel some relief. I think we all knew it would end this way, but I kept trying. I guess he is at peace now. He didn’t believe in God pretty much since Ellie died. At first, he just questioned God, but as he got deeper into the bottle, he dismissed the idea of the existence of an all-knowing, all-powerful, all-loving being. He called it “hogwash.” He used to say I was stupid for believing it and weak for going to church. I don’t know, but I feel a need to believe. I even think Hank will end up in heaven.
Anyway, everybody has been kind. I have received a lot of notes from people I haven’t seen for months, even years. Susie wrote me a letter. She said to say hi, but she didn’t ask too many questions about you. Uncle Jeff, Aunt Sally, and your cousins have been really helpful. I don’t know how I could carry on without them. Since our ranches are close, it hasn’t been too hard for them to work the herd and keep up the fences. Our ranch is bigger than theirs, and we are up against the BLM land for about a mile of our property. We have lost some of our cattle up in Diggers Creek. I guess two of them slipped off the ridge up there. It’s just a loss we can’t afford. I wish you could help out, but it’s too much for just one person anyway. I’m grateful for my brother’s family.
Your uncle Jeff says I will have to make a bid to the BLM to keep our cattle up in the hills behind the ranch. He says he will help me fill out the forms. We really don’t have too much competition, he says. I’m a little worried about the cost, but I think it’s the best plan.
I sometimes wonder if I should just go ahead and sell the ranch. It’s really too much. But I’m getting ahead of myself. I hope you are doing okay. It’s very hard to not know what’s going on with your life.
Love,
Mom
Shawn felt tired. The email drained him. He recalled the times living on the ranch and how it seemed like a part of him. Remembering those times, he felt a hollow place growing somewhere in him. He leaned back on his pillow and let his left hand slip off the side of his bed. He closed his eyes and tried to empty his mind. It didn’t work. He stayed in bed for a while. Finally, his eyes popped open, and he stared unseeing at the ceiling. Pushing himself up, he got out of bed. Shawn began to jump up and down, jumping jacks. He continued to push his body. He moved into martial art katas and Krav Maga moves, rapid punches from his waist, pivoting and kicking an imaginary foe. He dropped and swept the floor with his right leg extended. He flipped onto his stomach and immediately began to do push-ups. Fifteen turned into fifty, and fifty into two hundred. After 230 push-ups, he collapsed onto the floor and gasped.
Shawn lay panting for a few minutes. He soon realized that his thoughts were not going away despite his physical exertions. He slowly got up and returned to his bunk. Shuffling the pages, he returned them to their dated order. He picked out the sixth email. The date was nearly two months after the last email.
Dear Shawn,
I’m sorry it has been so long since I wrote, but then again, you haven’t written for months. It’s really hard not knowing what is going on with you. I am a little afraid of what I might find out, but I think I will try to get a hold of your commanding officer. At least I can get some kind of response.
It has been hard here. That seems like what I always say, but it’s true. Christmas is only a few weeks away. I hate that I don’t really care, but I don’t.
I have been dealing with the details of the ranch and other legal matters associated with Hank’s death. Things are pretty much taken care of. As much as I can do, anyway. Now it’s waiting. Waiting for the government to decide if we will get the rights to the BLM land behind our property. Waiting for insurance to pay up. It’s interesting that Hank stayed up with his payments on the insurance in his condition. Once the decision is made, I should get $300,000. That will help a lot. The ranch is profitable, but the management of it is too much for me. It might be better next year. My brother is running things. He talks to me about some of the stuff, but I am not a businessperson. I always took care of the house and the people I love. Now I don’t have as much to do with the way things are. Your aunt Sally takes care of her family as if she was herding sheep. She even takes care of me somewhat.
I have been doing some reading and thinking. I have also been taking photos. Remember that digital camera that Hank gave me for my fiftieth? It’s a Rebel made by Canon. I enjoy taking it out to the hills out back of the house. I have been trying to photograph sunsets. They look okay, but I have a lot to learn. I have only one lens. It’s a 75 to 300. Those are millimeters. Anyway, my photos don’t look much like those in the ranching magazines, but I enjoy it. I feel like I can relax for the first time in three years. It’s great to be out in the hills at dusk, but I get a little nervous by myself. Jeff always tells me to look out for mountain lions and other scary critters. I take one of the guns your father had when he was alive. It’s just a pistol, but it makes me feel safer. It’s called a Glock, and I know how to load it. I even shot it a few times. I don’t think I could hit a moving object, but maybe I could scare it.
I am also going through things here. Things that belonged to Hank and even things that belonged to your father. I had forgotten that he had guns from his trip to Africa. While I was in the attic, I noticed them wrapped in blankets. They were in some sort of gun bag too. I didn’t pull them out because I really don’t know much about them, but they must be powerful. I can’t imagine killing an elephant. Or even a lion, unless it was about to eat me. Oh well, he liked big-game hunting up until the Africa trip. He seemed changed after that. I think he regretted killing the elephant. I decided to leave these for you to look at. I know your father would like you to have them.
Shawn did not really know his father. His mother had usually referred to him as “your father,” but his name was Kenneth. She had kept some photographs, and Shawn remembered him as tall, smiling, and tough-looking man. His mother spoke about him being a hard worker and smart. She had explained to him that he seemed to have inexhaustible energy. But suddenly that had changed. He was eight years older than Shawn’s mother. When he passed his fortieth birthday, he had a significant drop in energy and experienced some chest pains. Linda had insisted that she take him to the hospital in Burns, but Ken sternly said he wouldn’t go. By the next day, his chest pain was worse. Stubbornly, Ken still refused to go to the hospital. Exasperated, Linda called her brother, but it was too late. By the time Steve arrived, Ken had died.
Ken’s death had been a shock to Linda. Shawn was four years old at the time and did not remember his father except through photos. Although vaguely, he remembered his mother being upset and struggling to be available. In fact, it was Shawn that kept Linda from going into a full depression. Although she struggled to keep going, her need to take care of Shawn’s basic needs was what saved her.
Linda was immediately overwhelmed by her need to take care of the ranch. Her brother came