Guy Moore had driven the same mundane road to and from the feed store for forty years, ever since he was old enough to drive. His father had owned Moore’s Feed Store and given it to him when he was too haggard to handle the heavy feed bags, although it pained him to abandon the comfort he felt in rote conversations with the same old timers he had known for years. Guy embraced the changing conditions of the road from snow, ice, down-pouring rains, autumn leaves and the warm glowing asphalt of the summer months. As he watched the seasons change he became more conscious of the grains of sand collecting heavily on the bottom of his hourglass. With each passing year, he was closer to becoming his father. Charles, Guy’s son, was in his late teens and expressed no interesting in taking over the family business, which hurt Guy deeply.

His early morning routines were sacred to him. Guy woke well before his family, started the coffee pot and sat in his home office, allowing his senses to rise and yawn in preparation for the day to come. He was serenaded by the report of tragic world news on the radio and the tantalizing drip, drip, drip of coffee brewing. Charles and Guy’s wife, Linda, knew to let him sip his coffee in peace for at least an hour before approaching him with their storm of complaints. His marriage had faltered when Charles was younger, but they had stuck it out for their son’s sake. Guy tried his best not to acknowledge the failure but their income barely covered the mortgage, and soon Charles would need tuition for college. This morning he wasn’t in the mood to be berated, so he quickly poured his coffee into a thermos to sip on his drive to work.

The feed store was in an old building beneath a grain mill that hadn’t been used in decades. It was quaint, he had adorned the walls with mounts from his hunts. Each fall he would take time for himself and escape to the nearby wilderness. Mostly he just sat by the campfire listening to the silence but would eventually hunt up an elk. The heat had stopped working in his truck, he was in a hurry to get inside. He fumbled his keys with his numb hands and unlocked the door, which had to be kicked at the bottom to open, something he should fix but never got around to. Like clockwork, just as Guy switched on the lights, Mrs. Dillinger would pull up. He would greet her outside and light her a cigarette before going back in to straighten the items on the shelves. Gail Dillinger had been working the cash register since his father had freshly painted the walls and was as aged as that same peeling paint. Although sometimes crass, Gail was as sweet as 75 years of hard Wyoming life could allow her to be. She was as close to a mother for Guy as any woman could be. His own had passed when he was too young to know her. It had snowed and thawed a good bit over the weekend and Guy made note of the mud splattered from the wheels on her old truck. “Mornin’ Gail. Have a little trouble out of your driveway?”

“Goddamn dirt road. Nearly spun my wheels three feet deep. Should have paved that son of bitch years ago, but Bill could never spend a dime on something so practical.”

Bill, Gail’s husband, had been dead for ten or so years. What money he had saved hadn’t stretched too far, but she had wanted to keep working to occupy herself as long as possible, even though she could collect social security.

Guy lit a cigarette and handed it to her. “I had about the same trouble,” he said, “but not as bad as you I guess.”

“Funny you mention my luck, Guy.” Gail said as she exhaled, “I gotta tell you somethin’ before I lose the courage.”

Guy knew what she would say, he had seen it coming. Her eyes were getting poor and she could hardly keep her energy up for the long hours. “You’re not leaving me, Gail, are you?” Guy asked.

“I hate to say it, little Guy, but I admit it. I’m old. I can’t do this shit anymore, figure it’s about time for me to give in, become one of those old ladies you see coming in here for cat food, take up knitting or something boring like that.”

“Well, I’m ashamed to say I had a feeling.” Guy paused for a second and took in a breath of cold air. “I understand. Can you give me two more weeks, ’til I can find a replacement?”

“Of course. But I can guarantee you won’t be able to replace a woman like me, that’s for damn sure.” Gail laughed, stomped out her cigarette and unashamedly let out a harsh cough. “It’s cold out, get your long-legged ass in before we both freeze to death.”

Guy obliged, turned the handle, kicked at the bottom of the door and held it open for Gail. He hurriedly went out to the feed room that had two large loading bays and sat on a stack of pallets to light his own cigarette. Guy sat still for a moment but fussed as he held his tears back in that peculiar way that he could be just short of crying, flaring his nostrils and taking in a few short breaths. By the time he had finished his cigarette, he had collected himself and went on to count the stacks of grain and hay bales out back before making calls for delivery, as well as arrange the special orders he’d make for his longtime customers.

Guy stayed stuck in his head for the next couple of days. Linda noticed and groaned to her friends about it over the phone. She never much liked him anyway, and particularly resented his depressive moods. Tractor Supply, a corporate farm and ranching supply store, had been offering for a year or more to buy the feed store with plans to demolish the old building and build their own Goliath of a store. Linda had begged Guy to sell. She complained for most of their marriage how he never took her on vacations and with the money they’d get she figured she could at least get a beach trip out of him. Lander was always a mom and pop run town. Guy had hoped he would die before seeing the day that would change.

Larry Baines backed his rig up to the bay for Guy to load a couple of pallets worth of alfalfa cubes. Every Thursday Larry met at a local diner to sip coffee, gossip and shoot the shit with a few other bowlegged and leather-skinned “cattle slingers” as they called themselves. He told Guy that he had heard Gail was leaving. “What a shame.” he said, “We’re all gonna miss sein’ her around here.” Guy nodded in agreement.

As Larry was pulling out with his load, he stopped the truck and yelled out of his window to Guy. “My boy Pete met himself a girl at UW. He moved her out here as soon as she graduated. She was a semester early! Smart girl. I’ll tell her to come in about the opening, she’s been looking for something to do.”

Just a couple of hours after Larry left the lot, Guy was surprised to see a little blonde come looking for him as he was stacking bags of grain. She had a blinding smile and confidently presented her hand. “You must be Guy. I’m Jennie. Larry said you were looking for a hand, well, here’s your hand!”

He was taken aback, he hadn’t really expected the girl to show up, or to be as bold and charming as she was. He shook her hand, introduced himself and asked if she had any experience with cash registers and ranching supplies. “My dad has been in the ranching business my whole life, and I just got my degree in Accounting.”

“Alright,” Guy said, “Come in tomorrow, and Gail can show you the ropes, if she approves, you’re hired.”

Guy was more than pleased. He knew he would hire Jennie but still hoped to have Gail’s good graces. When he made it home that evening, he went out to the horse pen where Linda was tending to the horses that she doted over. He told her that he had hired Pete Dugger’s fiancé to work the counter at the feed store.

“Lord, what is she, twenty? Whoever would marry Pete has gotta have a half empty head. But I don’t guess you were thinking about her smarts, were you? She must have nice tits.” Linda laughed at her own statement.

Guy took offense, “Linda, be straight. She has a college degree and grew up around cattle. The store could use a little youthful optimism, it’ll be a nice change. I’m sure you will like her, at least you won’t have to see Gail.” Guy loved Gail but figured that his own statement would make Linda happy. Gail and Linda never got along. Gail thought that he deserved better and she made no strides to hide her opinion.

“Do what you want Guy like you always do. Just don’t bother me when I’m down here with my horses again. You know the rule.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Guy said sarcastically over his shoulder as he turned toward the house. Maybe he could hold off selling the feed store for a few more years, he thought.