Jennie’s week of training with Gail went better than Guy had expected, although her job wasn’t an all too complicated one. She picked up readily and never had to ask Gail twice where an item should be placed, when and where to request purchase orders and how to keep up with customers tabs, some of which were regularly tardy. Gail had a list of the lackadaisical patrons’ home phone numbers taped up on the wall behind the cash register. Monthly, she would call and harass their wives who could dole out a worse verbal punishment to their husbands than Gail was possible of and soon enough, their tabs were balanced out only to be in debt again.

As customers came and went to buy their various vetting, feed and tack needs, Gail introduced Jennie proudly. “Jim, Rick, come over and meet Jennie. I’m gettin’ traded out for a smarter and prettier model. But you boys keep yer hands off her, she’s marrying Larry’s boy, Pete.”

Not one man that came in that week didn’t hear the same line from Gail. Soon, the word spread and even cowhands from Crowheart made their way out to Moore’s Feed Store much more often than usual. Wives and girlfriends came in to buy headstalls and saddle blankets that they didn’t need just to eye down their competition. Jennie was pleasant to the women, but a little resentful of causing the drama, after all, she was in love with Pete. Linda even dropped in. She didn’t introduce herself, just looked at Jennie sidelong, made a lap around the aisles and raced out faster than a barrel horse.

When he wasn’t on calving watch, Pete would drop Jennie off at the feed store just after Guy had woken the place up. They were a funny looking couple, he thought. Compared to Jennie, Pete was a stick in the mud. Although it was winter, she had a warm summer’s glow on her skin. Pete was a pale, shorter version of his father with already thinning hair that he desperately tried to keep concealed under his sweat-stained hat. All that they had in common were their icy blue eyes that eagerly warmed when they looked at each other.

Guy found their affection endearing. He caught himself reminiscing his courtship days with Linda. Guy had given a halfhearted go at saddle bronc riding in high school. He swore up and down to Linda that he only rode those rank horses so that he could watch her kick up dust and whip her sorrel mare into those lurching leaps around the barrels. She was a solidly built half native, with dark green eyes and shining black hair. Her grit spooked him a little at first, but he managed to win her over with his soft-spoken charm. Guy was known for his reticence, but Linda was electrifying. She was wild, and everyone had wanted her. Linda liked bringing Guy out to parties to show off, he was handsome, and she couldn’t get enough of making the other boys squirm with jealousy. He had hoped marrying her would tame her down, and she had hoped to liven him up.

Soon it was spring, the busiest time of year for the feed store. The valley thawed and revitalized as everyone jokingly asking each other if their marriages made it through the long winter. Jennie was able to help relieve much of the grunt work and stress that Guy usually had to take on himself. The store’s revenue was noticeably improving. She helped him in the feed room as much as she could, reorganized the front of the store and cleaned the place up. As the days grew longer and his mood lightened, Guy began visiting his father more often. Kurt liked to tease his son for escaping his family to come drink scotch with him when so many years ago he had escaped his father to see his, then girlfriend, Linda.

He lived in isolation in a cabin just south of Crowheart. For most of his life, Kurt seemed to be powered by his contempt for the world in general, but with age, his vitreal softened. Guy noticed that lately, he had grown more openly nostalgic. Instead of politics, Kurt had talked about hunting trips, Guy’s first oversized trout and even spoke of Guy’s mother, covertly tearing under his scratched lenses. He had books stacked on his fireside table, something that Guy wasn’t sure was a lifelong habit or a new one. It was an unusually warm evening and the sky was clear. They decided to sit out on the porch while they continued to pour each other drinks. As Kurt spoke, he entertained himself by chuckling at the old stories he recounted. Guy found himself thinking that his father had sat on this porch for thousands of nights of his life. He thought about how many lasts this cabin had seen. Kurt’s life was full of last times. There was a last time he had woken to his wife and told her that he loved her. There was a last time he had heard Guy take off his boots to sneak out in the dark. There would be a last drink with his father, a last argument with his father, a last time he would hide knowing that his father was painfully lonely.

Kurt abruptly announced that he was done for the evening. He was still on his early to rise, early to bed schedule, even though he no longer had anywhere to be. He said goodbye and let the screen door slam behind him. Guy opened a beer and pulled forward to shut the property gate. He liked driving alone at night, the window cracked as he matched each inhale of his cigarette with a sip of Coors. The lightness he had felt over the seeming rebirth of the store dissipated when he left his father’s cabin. Kurt had let the feed store occupy nearly all of his time and claimed that leisure was for rich men, not working men. Without the feed store, Kurt had nothing left except misery and few and far between visitors. Guy had suddenly begun to worry about what would be left of himself on his last day locking the door to Moore’s Feed Store.