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Chapter One
Thunder and lightning had Clay Nelson mesmerized by the storm coming at them. Huge rumbling dark clouds rolled across the darkening sky on the open prairie. The wind picked up and the tall grasses waved like an incoming tide. The sparse sprinkling of trees began to sway in the wind as it picked up. Birds hushed; the grasshoppers stopped jumping.
"A storm's kicking up, dad, we better hurry and get those chickens in the coop." Clay hollered.
Charlie Nelson came closer, glanced at the sky and nodded. He gathered several chickens and locked them in the pens pulling down the shutter so they wouldn't get the brunt of the storm.
As he came up to his son, he studied him for a moment, as though something was on his mind. "Clay," Charlie looked at his son, "I been meaning to talk to you about this for a while son. I hate to bring this up, but I feel like it's overdue, so I'm just going to come out with it."
"What is it dad?" Clay asked glancing at his dad who seemed to be hesitating. For some strange reason his dad seemed oblivious to the coming storm. It was kind of out of his character to be so unsure of what he had to say.
Charlie sighed heavily. "You ain't gonna like what I got to say, but well, I been wondering."
"Wondering what?" Clay asked shooting him a quick glance over his shoulder. Didn't he see those clouds? What was wrong with him? Was he suddenly getting senile?
"I been wondering when you gonna settle yourself down and marry, son, and give me some grandchildren?" Charlie asked as he shaded his eyes and looked out over the horizon now.
Clay's head shot up, eyeing his father with a bit of surprise. Where was this coming from?
Black clouds were already forming to the north and it looked as though it was going to be a gully washer. Clay was more concerned with the weather than this conversation that seemed to pop up out of nowhere.
He shook his head and glanced once more over his shoulder. "Now what brought this up, and especially at a time like this."
Irritation lined his words.
"Well son, I been meaning to talk to you about if for the longest. Don't seem to be any right time to talk about it. Now's as good as any, we can't stop the storm son, but maybe we could stop long enough to talk about it. Aside from locking the chickens in their pen, there ain't much we can do about a storm except batten down the hatches."
He sure picked his times to talk about it! A gully washer on its way and he wanted to talk about him getting married? There were cattle to check on, chickens to pen, horses to curry and his dad should be in the kitchen about now, fixing something for the evening meal.
Clay tried his best not to show the frustration he was feeling. Still, he couldn't quite believe his father was taking it up at all. After all, they'd rarely talked about his not getting married, and Clay preferred it that way, a fact Charlie was well aware of.
It wasn't that he hadn't considered it a time or two in his thirty years, but there was no one in his life he wanted that badly, at least not enough to marry. Marriage was a huge step and not to be taken lightly.
Clay figured that naturally if the right woman came along, he'd jump at the chance, but that hadn't happened, and time had a way of slipping by without notice. He figured he'd probably never marry.
A lonely wind whistled through the cracks in the shed as the clouds formed an ominous position moving straight toward them. "Bad weather is on its way." Charlie mumbled as if to himself, as he just now realized it. Still, he waited for his son to respond to the question.
"This just isn't the time, dad."
"You're right, but when is a good time, son? A man begins to wonder about his son, when he takes no notice of a woman."
"Dad," Clay turned to face him, rubbing his chin and trying to figure out how to explain it. "Look, I really don't feel like talking about this right now. There's too much to do. I've got to get the rest of the chickens in their pen, the horses brushed down and you've got to get supper on. I need to run check on the cattle too."
"I already put the chickens in the pen, the cattle are fine, they are huddling by the lean-to shed. It's just that you never want to talk about it. That's the problem." Charlie fussed, knowing the weather had nothing to do with their conversation. "I wouldn't have said anything, but your thirty years old, son and not even thinking along the lines of a family. I'll be dead before you decide to have any grandchildren."
"Grandkids? My God, dad, I'm not even married yet." Clay glanced at his aging father, a slender man with greying hair and usually a big smile on his face, except today. What he'd said was the truth and Clay had to admit he hadn't given much thought to marriage nor the fact that he was thirty. Nor had he given any thought to his father's death. Perhaps he'd give it some thought, later. He was doing what he thought best, taking care of the place, and his dad!
"Look managing this place with just you and me, there's no time for courting. No decent woman would marry without a fair amount of time spent on it. I don't have that time to pay court like a gentleman." Clay answered him, this time with a frown. "Besides, I haven't met a woman I admire as much as my own mother. And until I do, I won't be doing any courting. I figure if the right woman comes along, I'll know it. And courting won't be that important to either of us."
"Comes along, you think she's just gonna drive up in the yard
in a wagon and say, "Here I am?"
Clay shot him a frown.
"What's wrong with Laura Martin, she's been sweet on you a while now…?" His dad persisted. "And she sure cooks good. You know as well as I do why she brings that food to us once a week."
Clay smiled. "I knew you'd bring her up." Clay muttered with exasperation. "Look, I admire her cooking as much as you do, but that's no basis for a marriage dad." He eyed his father with disbelief. "If that's all it takes, you marry her. You get along with her so well. In case you haven't noticed, I don't. We just don't see eye to eye on most things. She's the biggest gossip this side of the Red River. Look, we've been doing fine without a woman all these years, why bring it up now?"
"Well now son, that's an easy one, I don't want to leave you alone, when I'm gone."
"Are you sick or something?" Clay asked whirling around at his father with a question in his eyes and a look of concern on his face.
"No, no, of course not, but you never know. Look at Asa Martin, keeled over in the field, was dead before anyone could get to him. It can happen, you know."
Seeing he wasn't going to let this conversation go, this time, Clay leaned against the gate of the corral that was just outside the shed. "What brought this on?" Clay asked staring now into his father's face. "You can outwork me when you want to. So, I know you can't be sick. Why is it suddenly so important to you?"
"Look, Laura's a fine-looking woman, and if I was younger, I might just do that. But it's not me she's doing all that cooking for, son." His father cast him a light grin. "And you know that."
"I'm supposed to be interested in her because she's a fine cook?"
