San Joaquin Valley, California
I don’t want to see that look in the boy’s eyes.
Winnie’s words have stayed with me all through the night and into the moments of morning twilight. These past hours are all I have for now to mourn a friend who has yet to leave me. Come sunrise my mourning needs to end because of her one request; not to see that look in my eyes. It will no doubt be the last gift I can give her. I’ll be damn certain I won’t fail.
The early morning saw the same picnic basket Winnie had assembled for the cousins’ return trip from Boston being packed once again.
“What do ye think ye be doin’?”
Winnie’s expression as she entered the kitchen reflected suspicion and doubt.
Scott was undaunted. “WinnieMae, what has the Good Lord blessed us with this day?” Before his friend could answer, the young man continued. “He has blessed us with a day of adventure.”
“And what about breakfast for the others?”
“They'll manage. Let's go.”
Scott led his friend out to the buckboard that had brought her to the ranch less than a week ago. The picnic basket joined a few other blanket-wrapped items in the back of the wagon; all secured with a few pieces of rope.
“I not be goin’ anywhere until I have me coffee. You know how I get, ScottyGarrett, without me mornin’ cup.”
“Well, a grizzly bear comes to mind.” Scott held out his arm for the older woman to take and be guided to the back side of the barn.
“Dear sweet Jesus above.” Winnie quickly crossed herself as she laid eyes on what was in front of her. “A creature that ugly must be from Hades itself.”
“It’s an ostrich, Winnie.”
“Ye don't expect me to climb into that cart!”
“Do you want your coffee?”
Smiling, Scott watched the older woman approach the large bird for closer inspection. Looking down, the creature from Hades returned the favor.
“You’re not getting skittish in your later years, are you Winnie?”
“Blasphemy. Help me in.”
Once settled beside his friend, the young man handed over the reins. “These birds respond just like a fine trotter. Of course, if you’re afraid…”
Winnie decided trotting was for old women and babies. Grabbing his hat and the side of the cart, Scott found himself bouncing past the barn, through the gate, and down the road at a full gallop.
“Winnie! Your coffee is the other way!”
Finally convincing the driver to turn around, the ostrich tamers came to a stop near the table which a few hours previously had provided a setting for drinks and cigars. However, now it offered a pot of coffee, corn muffins and honey.
Scott nodded. ‘Thank you, Teresa O’Brien. I owe you a shopping trip to Stockton.’
Over their steaming mugs and sticky treats, the history of the Lancer ostriches was told including Kinsey’s “Great Race” with costumes, and Murdoch’s silver teapot trophy.
Looking up at the sky, Scott made a decisive observation. “I believe the grizzly bear is now in hibernation and this day isn’t getting any younger. Time to go.”
The buckboard ride through the valley was in sharp contrast to their earlier jaunt of the morning. Relaxing, the younger friend shared stories of how he first met Johnny on the stagecoach; the struggle to understand him and their father.
“Do you still struggle, ScottyGarrett?”
“At times. If something is too easy I must not be doing it right.”
The driver brought the wagon to a stop near a tree that furnished shade to a rustic wooden table two brother had hammered together a few months ago.
“Will ye look over there at the mess someone thoughtlessly left behind; broken bottles and old cans. A person could get themselves hurt.”
Scott rolled his eyes while assisting his companion to the ground. Reaching in the back of the wagon he once again retrieved the 1866 Yellowboy rifle. “Come on Winnie. I’m going to prove Kinsey will not shoot her foot off by providing you with some of my sensible guidance.”
Repeating the same instructions he had given his cousin a few weeks ago, the instructor had Winnie shoulder the rifle and sight in the target.
“Scotty, yer outta yer mind.”
“Well, Winifred, I think we can confirm that statement once you pull the trigger.”
It took a few attempts until a bottle shattered but the pure joy on his friend’s face was worth the effort.
“And the little lass’s aim is true?”
“It is. In fact, Kinsey's gotten quite good in a very short period of time.”
“Well, we can't be havin’ the wee one showin’ me up now can we?”
“No, ma’am.”
Winifred McLoughlin decided a few more broken bottles left behind would cause no harm.
Lunchtime brought the picnic basket to rest on a blanket spread out by Martin’s Lake.
“Here we are, Winnie Mae. The setting for many a questionable activity.”
Between bites of sandwiches and sips of lemonade, the tale of the Green River Summer Dance was colorfully retold with every detail.
“You would have been proud of her. The lass brought Jenkins down with one swift kick to his shin.”
“Tell me ScottyGarrett, is it true you need those lockets to tell the McGuire twins apart.”
“Well,” Scott grinned, “There are a few other subtle differences.”
“Differences that perhaps are not immediately visible?”
The older cousin looked out over the lake. “Kinsey Rose talks too much.”
Winnie paused before her next statement was delivered in a more serious tone. “Lad, there's somethin’ I need to tell ye. I don't know how to start so I think it's best to just say it.”
With his heart in his throat, Scott watched sunlight shimmer off of the lake. It took a moment or two to find his voice. “I'm listening, Winnie.”
“She can't cook.”
“What?”
“The lass is a lit stick of dynamite in the kitchen. Everything blows up. The Good Lord knows I've tried but…”
It was difficult but Scott adopted an equally serious inflection for his reply. “We’re aware, Winnie, and make it a point to never leave Kinsey alone in the kitchen.”
“She has a good heart. I want ye to promise me to be certain she finds the man who appreciates all the gifts she has to offer.”
“I wouldn't want it any other way.”
“And lad, ye be with the woman who knows what a blessing ye are.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Winnie’s attention rested on the still waters in front of her.
“Tell me, Scotty, do ye still know how to skip a stone?”
On rare occasions, Harlan would leave Boston, pack up the family and spend time at the Garrett summer home. It was on one of these occasions Winnie had taught her young lad how to skip stones across a pond.
“Well, Winifred, as a matter of fact, yes I do remember.”
“Have ye broken me record of six skips?”
“Not until today.”
“Ah, so would ye be willin’ to wager a bet?”
“I believe you have a silver dollar in your purse that will soon be mine.”
It was sometime after the evening meal when Murdoch found his oldest placing the Yellowboy back in the gun cabinet. “Winifred is asking for you. She’s upstairs packing.”
Scott smiled. “She no doubt wants her silver dollar.”
“Come in” answered Scott’s knock on Winnie’s bedroom door. He found his dear friend sitting on her bed and signaling he should sit beside her. As he sat, Scott noticed a book in her hand.
“Emerson’s Essays. A gift from your mother to me and now it is yours.”
Scott knew if he tried to speak his voice would betray him so he simply nodded as he ran his hand over the book’s cover.
“Now, this is for the lass.” Winnie placed a fine lace collar in Scott’s hand. “Wore it on me wedding day. Edwin and I were not blessed with children of our own.”
“Winnie…”
“Quiet lad and let me finish. Yer to keep it ‘cause I don't be needin’ tears from that little girl. I'm dependin’ on ye to know the right time to give it to her.”
“Yes. I'll know.”
A weathered hand reached up and rested on the side of the young man’s face. “Yer going to be just fine, Scotty. We can't avoid it. There will always be that last goodbye between friends.”
Scott knew he hadn't fooled Winifred Mae McLoughlin at all. He never could. She could always see the look in his eyes.
The day the Boston telegram arrived for Scott he sought out Kinsey to go riding. He needed to tell her.
“I want to see how you and Buck are getting along. I think it might be time to start those lessons.”
When they reached Martin’s Lake, Scott judged the horses deserved a rest.
“Ever skip a stone, Freckles?”
“Nope.”
“You poor deprived child. Let me show you.”
Remembering from his youth, Scott showed his cousin how to select a flat stone and the sidearm throw that sends it skipping across the surface of the water. It wasn’t long until the lass consistently threw three and four skippers.
“KinseyRose, what has the Lord blessed us with today?”
Laughing, the young lady skipped another stone. “I don’t know ScottyGarrett, what has the Lord blessed us with today.”
Putting his arm around his little cousin, Scott smiled.
“Today he has blessed us with the memories of a good friend.”
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