Life. Though science may try to take away some of the mystery, to answer some of its questions in the most sensible way, it remains exactly that, a mystery. Though we may explain the way in which cells divide and multiply, how oxygen supplies life to them, the intricacies of the bodily organs and functions, or the deterioration that brings about death, we cannot explain the essence of our beings, the soul that offers us uniqueness or individuality through science. It is that uniqueness which most offers a purpose to our being in the first place. For a short time we are more than a living, breathing organism. We are a person with the ability to affect the lives of others, and to fill a space in time and in someone’s heart.
We do not know how far reaching that touch of soul against soul will be, if it will stop with a single act, or develop into a historical moment in the chain of human events. We can only offer it, and let it take its own course.
On May 21, 2000 the one soul who had the most affect upon who I was or what I had become left this earth. She and my daddy had called me into this world with their love and that same love had been with me throughout my life, even in times of trials. Although it was a separation from the physical and nearly daily contact I had with her; I knew, because of the touch of soul against soul, Momma would always be a part of my life. She would be with me in the lessons she had taught me and in the example she had offered through her life. She would remain firmly entrenched in my memories, her image etched upon my heart. Even more than that, I felt my soul would somehow be tethered to hers, no matter where we were.
Momma felt she had lived a full life, and she had grown tired in recent years; she was ready to leave and begin a new journey. I don’t think the impact of her death was as devastating on me as Daddy’s had been; certainly not because I loved one more than the other, but because it was not as sudden and tragic. Besides, I’d had many years and experiences to mature me, and had my own moments in which I faced the weariness of life.
It was a beautiful service, much of which she had already arranged with me or with the pastor. We laid her head down to rest alongside my father. Now their union was again complete, husband and wife, side by side; no longer divided by the boundaries of life, time, or space.
We, my parents and I, had been the first of our family to live in Forgan. There was no family and no family plot. Most of Momma’s family was back in Missouri, where I am sure her family was buried together, and perhaps there was even a spot for her, but she wanted to be here where she had made her home.
“We spent more of our lives here than we did anywhere else,” she’d said. “This is where we made our home and raised the child of our flesh. You lay me out there beside your daddy, and I’ll rest easy.”
I was so glad she had died in the spring. Momma loved the spring about as much as I loved the fall. She loved to garden, both vegetables and flowers grew to her touch. She could make just about anything grow, whether she planted it from seeds or cuttings, she seemed to have that magic. On the other hand, I had to work at keeping anything alive. I had found some vegetables that seemed to tolerate my presence, but when it came to flowers, it seemed gardening wasn’t my calling. I use to tell Momma it was because she had a “spring” spirit and I had a “fall” spirit; her touch grew and my touch withered. We moved some of the tulips she had planted by the cellar out to her grave. I don’t like tulips much, because after they bloom they look like weeds to me, but Momma loved them all, and she liked to plant different colors and styles.
Ashley had come back for the funeral. It was so good to see her, despite the circumstances. She was still in college at OSU. It was the end of her second year and she had planned to stay there and work. Previously, she had come back home and worked in the grocery store for the summer, but that year she had gotten a job at an animal clinic. Since that was exactly the kind of work she wanted anyway, who could argue. I hated her being in Stillwater all alone, but she wasn’t one to be bothered by things like that. She gathered friends wherever she went and was quite independent. I pitied the man who tried to gather her reigns, because she wouldn’t settle easy.
We had taken to the task of sorting through Momma’s things. Momma wasn’t a packrat, so it made things a lot easier. She kept things, but only things with importance or strong sentimentality, and what she did keep, was organized and neat. She wasn’t a wealthy woman, or so we thought, but she had accumulated quite a few things in nearly forty years of living in one place.
There were so many things that brought back memories to me, which probably caused us to spend more time at it than was necessary. Ashley and I had some of the best conversations that day. J.B. was out at the ranch, so it was just the two of us. Almost every article had some story behind it. There was the dress Momma had made for me for the eighth grade graduation dance and the old mittens Daddy used to wear when we went out to build snowmen. There were school papers and report cards I hadn’t even known she had saved. There was a notebook Momma used to write in the names of people she needed to pray for each day.
It was Ashley that found it. In a ledger by her bed, there was a note and some certificates. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw them. It seems when I was sending money to Momma from Dallas, she wasn’t using it for herself at all. She was saving it for me. She began by placing it in a savings account. I never had paid much attention at the time, but I guess over time I had sent her a considerable amount of money. It had gathered some interest in the bank, but Momma had done much better than that. We could tell that simply by what was printed on those certificates, we didn’t need any financial man to tell us.
As I said before, Momma was from Missouri and almost all of her family was from back that way as well. She had a sister that had married a man from Arkansas and they had made their home near Rogers. It was her sister who had told her about this company, and how she thought it would be a good investment. There were these two brothers who had started a business down that way and it had grown enough to take it public. One of the brothers had such a dynamic personality it seemed he had gotten the attention of about everyone in the area. According to Aunt Sarah, they were growing by leaps and bounds. They had stores in Arkansas, Missouri, and Oklahoma.
Well, Momma took that money out of savings and bought as many shares as she could of that Wal-Mart stock. We were looking at the stock certificates, knowing how they had grown over the years, but unaware of just how much they were worth. The stock had split a number of times through the years, we knew that and by 2000 Wal-Mart had grown into the Goliath of retail.
We knew we had to talk with someone who knew about these kinds of things, so we headed off for Liberal to see a broker. After all was said and done, it seems we had us a real treasure on our hands. I didn’t tell J.B. about the find right away; I kind of wanted it to be a surprise. He had been ranching for others for so long; I had my own ideas of what we’d do with that money.
A phone call to Mr. Evan Winslow revealed he would indeed consider selling the ranch to the right individual. He was nearly eighty now and had pretty much left the operation of the Lazy B to J.B. anyway. He and his wife had moved over to Perryton, Texas to be closer to his daughter and he only made it out to the ranch about once a week these days. It was J.B. that had taken care of most everything out there, including a lot of the bookwork, which I helped him with from time to time.
J.B. had wanted a ranch for so long, I figured why not try to get him one he was already running anyway. It was a nice ranch and with the river, there was usually enough water, whether it is above ground or below. The wells were shallow along the river’s edge and when the water dropped below the surface, it was still plentiful. The cottonwoods clustered in groves along the ranch and the pastures offered plenty of grass. We could make a good go of it and there would still be enough money to build a nice ranch house.
I got everything arranged, and Mr. Winslow was understanding enough to allow me to talk it over with J.B. before making it all legal. He knew I wanted it to be a surprise, but I didn??
?t want to make that kind of decision final without letting J.B. in on it.
“All you have to do is sign right here and it will be all yours, free and clear.”
His face showed the uncertainty he felt at what I was telling him.
“The Lazy B will be ours? What about the cattle?”
“We’re buying them, too. All of it will be ours. The land, equipment, buildings, and the cattle will be ours lock, stock, and barrel. We will even have 50% ownership in the mineral rights. So, we’ll get a percentage of any future royalties. All you got to do is decide if you want it or not. If you don’t we’ll look for another place.”
He shook his head.
“It seems too easy, Abby. It’s hard to believe we got that kind of money.”
“Honey, we got that kind of money and more. If you are feeling guilty about the money, don’t. Just remember Momma invested that money for a reason. If she hadn’t wanted us to use it, she would have used it a long time ago. She knew we’d find it when we needed it and we wouldn’t squander it in a wasteful manner.”
He is a prideful man, not eager to accept any kind of charity, but it didn’t take all that much convincing to get him to see that it was the chance of a lifetime. He signed those papers and we became the mighty proud owners of the Lazy B. We were ranchers, not just cowhands. We had a place of our own, and dreams enough to fill it.
It didn’t change J.B. much; he still worked his tail off each day out there in the hot sun. It just meant that when he was making the decisions he had already been making, he was the one that would live with the consequences. He continued to build up the herd and care for the land the same as he always had. We did build us a nice house down there in that little spot where we had first loved each other. It was down near the river and that big old cottonwood was in our front yard. It would make a nice spot to hang a swing for the grandkids, when Ashley finally found a man who could get a bridle on her.
Until then we would have to be content to sit upon the front porch in the swing of an evening and listen to the day sounds give way to those of the night, the river gently flowing in the darkness, knowing the Lord had looked down and smiled upon us. And every now and then, when the wind whispered through the cottonwoods, rattling those big heart-shaped leaves, I could feel Momma and Daddy looking down upon us as well.