It's a Long Way from Montana to Boston

By Aspen McLea

This is a lesbian, western novel. It is set in the Roundup area of central Montana in the early 2000s on the Delorian family ranch. Cassandra (Sand), and her mother, Mary, operate the ranch alone, as Mary divorced Sands father ten years before for infidelity.
Sand clashes with Cord McReynold, a neighbors son, in a bar. Infuriated he lures her into an isolated area and threatens to rape her. With the help of her dog, Dopey, and a fencing tool to his crotch she escapes him. After losing a lawsuit against her, he plagues her with various sabotages on the ranch through several months.
Two wealthy Massachusetts women move to the area and through Sands helping them, they become friends. Their love deepens Sands yearning for a partner of her own. The two women try to match-make, inviting friends from Boston at Thanksgiving. A long-distance relationship with Heather seems out of the question to Sand, though she is enchanted with her.
A temporary under-sheriff and Sand are attracted to each other but both women are too set in their careers to work things out.
Sand and Heather correspond and phone through winter and spring, but the barrier of 2400 miles between them is daunting. Concerns over money, security, and the small towns gossips make a relationship seem impossible.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Oct 2, 2015
• ISBN: 9781504948883

Aspen McLea

Aspen McLea is the author’s pen name. She has written four other books and sold several magazine articles under her given name. Aspen is a native Montanan, and has remained in the state all of her life. She lives in southwestern Montana on a small ranch where she used to raise sheep, cattle, and poultry. She wrote cowgirl poetry and performed in gatherings throughout the state for a dozen years. Her experiences building fence, doing carpentry, stacking hay, helping with branding and roundup on a friend's ranch, pulling lambs and calves, and feeding livestock in bitter winter weather make this book more real. That being a homosexual is no longer a felony in Montana, she has dared publish this book.

Book preview

1

Cassandra

S and’s green eyes searched the land for cattle as she topped a ridge on her dun appaloosa. The verdant spring prairies stretched off in every direction. Unusually heavy winter snows had given them ample moisture. April’s warmth had the grasses growing like Jack’s beanstalk. Even the pines and junipers in the draws seemed greener.

Damn, there they are. A blocky brown back like a square rock broke the horizon’s line half a mile to the northwest. Reining her big gelding around, she touched him with a spur to urge him into a rocking lope.

She hated that corner of the section. As a child it had been the goal of her first short solo rides. It became a secret place where she could play among the cottonwoods and shrubs at the head of a steep, meandering coulee. There an artesian spring provided year-round moisture to the huge thirsty trees. This had been her enchanted forest, her castle, her beloved hide-away. The wind could not reach her. Nothing of the real world could touch her there. She pulled Red Cloud to a stop on a slight rise, and stood in the stirrups. Yep, that’s the bunch, big boy. She patted his damp neck, and turned him toward the bottom of the coulee. Almost eleven years ago her dad had ridden out here with her. His steel blue eyes had avoided hers, his laugh lines had become just wrinkles, and his serious mood had frightened her that day. They had dismounted and led the horses to the spring.

The babbling stream from the spring, the wind humming in the cottonwoods sounded like him now, far in the distance. She sat staring at the sheer sandstone cliff, seeing herself and her father, Garth Delorian, as though she were an audience rather than an actor.

Sweetie, I’m sorry. You know Mom and I haven’t been getting along lately. People grow apart. He kicked away a pinecone with the side of his boot. We’ve been unhappy and been upsetting you kids with our arguing. I need, he had closed his eyes as though in pain, I need out. I got a job in Miles City, working as an auctioneer and trucking stock. I don’t want to lose you kids. I love you.

That man she adored had taught her to operate the farm machinery, weld, irrigate, play poker, and most of all, to laugh: at herself, a good joke, or adversity. He had willingly destroyed her world, deserted his family, and disgraced their mother. Fury had consumed her. She had screamed at him, and pounded his broad chest. You quit loving Mom, and me, and Grandy. You’ve been whoring around with that Amelia Strong. Don’t ever speak to me again, or set foot on this place. I hate you. He had stepped back, more stricken by her vocal rage than the blows.

She now felt the hatred again, felt the temper she’d inherited from Garth.

Her memories left. Sand stared blankly at the cliff. Always the same. Every time she came here the scene would play itself out. She’d not seen nor talked to her father since that day a month before starting her senior year of high school in 1992. He’d moved to Miles City, married Amelia after the divorce, and sired two children: half brothers, bastards. She and her mother ran the ranch alone. Grandy had gone to college in Billings so he could be close to help at the ranch. After graduation he returned home only once a year.

She shook her head to clear it, and felt herself breathing as though she’d been running. She jerked off her hat and slapped it on her lean thigh, then wiped her short blonde hair off her forehead with the other hand. Sweat trickled down her temples.

It’s poisoned here, ruined forever. Get going, Red Cloud. The powerful horse picked his way around a hill downstream from the cliffs and climbed to the top of the draw. They gathered the cattle and drove them home.

Sand stretched and yawned as she walked into the two-story log house her great grandfather had built. Welcome aromas of coffee, steak, and biscuits started her salivary glands working. That smells good, Mom. She gave the slim matron a kiss on her cheek. Sorry I took so long, but the cattle had crossed the artesian coulee.

I’ve kept an eye out for you, Cassandra. There’s just time to wash while I dish up.

Sand smiled as she ambled into the bathroom next to the kitchen. She inspected her dirt-streaked face while the sink filled. Same long, thin outline, high cheekbones, strong chin, and thin lips as her mother. That clone-like resemblance made her very proud, indeed. They both enjoyed it. She soaped the washrag, and attacked the grime.

You got a call from one of your old friends. Remember that youngest girl of Glenns? Holly?

She stopped splashing water on her face. Yeah? Where is she? Why’d she call?

She’s visitin’ her grandma Allison. She’ll call back this evenin’. Mary Delorian slid a T-bone on the plate, added green beans, and took the steaming meal to the table.

Holly Glenn, my first crush. First love, really. They’d fumbled around in the hayloft, touching each other’s growing breasts, running their fingers through each other’s hair, giggling and rolling in the hay. Twelve years ago. Eight years since I’ve seen her. She sighed, I wonder if she’s still such a looker?

Casssandra, come eat.

Sand plopped in a chair and shoveled down the meal, trying to concentrate on Mary’s reminiscing about the Allison family while cutting up the steak. This is perfect, Mom. We raise the best beef around. She buttered a biscuit. I need to bring those four late calvers to the corral. I should be able to catch them before they get too far from watering at the creek. We can check them out and vaccinate the babies tomorrow. She finished her mug of coffee, and took the dishes to the sink. See you in a couple hours. She hurried out, her mind full of Holly.

On the phone later that evening, Holly talked like a soprano machine gun. The main reason I’m visiting is to get away from Des Moines. I’m newly divorced. Andy has the three kids for the summer, so I’m a free woman. It’s been years since I’ve been home and I’ve never had a vacation from my offspring.

Just like putting the cattle out to summer pasture?

Not quite, you goof. I miss the kids, but in a funny way. They’re happy with their dad and I’m happy alone for a while. Peter, the oldest, was the reason we married. Then Kim a year later, and Jock in two years. After I figured out cause and result, we had no more trouble. I mean babies. She giggled.

I agree with the first label. What will you do, Holly?

Who knows? I may stay here. I might go to Spokane. My sis is out there. I may take a trip around the world!

You’re that rich?

No, heavens no. I’m being silly. Her speech slowed, the tone dropped. I don’t know what to do, or where to begin again. I haven’t any marketable skills. I’m a meticulous housekeeper and diaper changer extraordinaire.

Will you come to town while you’re here? Sand licked the corners of her lips, swallowed, yearning to see Holly again.

Of course. I called to ask you and your mom to come for dinner tomorrow night. Grammy said she’d not seen you for ages.

She’s right. Sure, we could do that. What time?

Sixish. We’ll have a high old time. I need one. I need to see you.

Sand cradled the phone carefully. Was there a special meaning in Holly’s needs? She sighed, loudly enough for Mary to hear her.

What’s the matter, dear?

She grinned and tried to sound casual. Nothing. All good. We’re invited to the Allison’s for dinner tomorrow.

Shortly before 6 o’clock the next day they drove into the Allison Ranch. Holly’s long, dark hair, soft brown eyes, and dimples hadn’t changed. Her natural beauty needed no makeup, nor permanents, nor flamboyant clothes. She had gained a little weight, but it only made her all the more tempting. Sand found her ill will toward her old friend fading rapidly. It had been difficult during dinner to tear her eyes away from Holly to include the others in conversation.

After they finished dishes, Holly suggested a walk to let dinner settle while the older women set up the Monopoly board. Black pines silhouetted against the rimrocks behind Allison’s house. A doe and fawn trotted into the hay meadow in front of them. Holly broke the strained silence. This is what I miss. The space, clean air, wild animals. I don’t think my kids would like it out here in Montana. They’re too used to the city and all the noise and confusion. This much quiet and open space would blow their minds.

They strolled to the corral, enjoying the soft spring evening. Grammy sold all the cattle after Gramps died. She’s letting the horses and chickens die off. It’s all so sad. Mom, nor their other kids wanted the ranch. Just too much work and not enough money for any of them. She leaned her elbows on a railing, and peered into the empty corral. I’d like to live here, but I have no money nor know-how. Ranching’s changed a lot since we were kids.

Yes, the genetics and marketing are more scientific, but it’s basically the same. Cows and bulls make baby calves and they grow up to go to market.

Holly shook her head and looked over her shoulder. You’re leaving out fencing, haying, calving, blizzards, branding—all the terrible stuff. I had a lifetime of all that as a kid.

It only works if you remember the good. Her father flashed into her mind. Maybe I should heed my own advice. I still missed him, still could use his help and council, but was glad to be away from his violent outbursts of temper. Speaking of good, do you think you remember how to ride, Holly?

Sure, and yes, I’d love to, if you have short enough stirrup leathers for me.

Come on over tomorrow afternoon about three. I need to check the fence on the Badger Creek section. Her heart sped at the prospect of seeing Holly alone.

Great. We could go to that old line camp cabin. Is it still there? It had a stove, an apple box cupboard, and that terrible old straw mattress on those awful rope supports. It sagged like a bad hammock. She giggled, seeming not to remember their tussles on that old bed.

Sand couldn’t believe Holly’s memories were so light-hearted. Her hot temper rose. She’d given this girl her soul, heart, and body at that cabin when they were in their fourteenth summer. A little over two years later Holly had to marry Andrew Wineset, one of the town’s few college boys. The day she found out, Cassandra had ridden in a rage to the building. She had slashed the mattress and dragged it outside, cut the bed ropes, and thrown stove lids and pipe through the window. A week later, when Garth discovered the damage, he’d commented that a bear must have torn it apart. He had boarded the window and put the stove back together. She hadn’t stayed there since.

Cassandra? Holly looked up at her, with her full lips slightly parted. You weren’t responding to Sandy.

Sorry. I’ve been going by Sand since high school. I was thinking which horse to have you use. I’ve a nice gentle mare, Biscuit. Anyone can ride her. She’d be best for someone who’s not ridden for, what is it, eight years?

You have a good memory.

Yes, I do. We’d better get back and have at that Monopoly game. She really felt like grabbing Holly to taste those tempting lips again, but decided going to jail, directly to jail, without passing Go would be safer.

2

Alkali Saloon

E arly the next afternoon Sand slouched at the bar in the Alkali Saloon. Close to the door the typical smelly incense of bar: a mix of smoke, beer fumes, and stale human seemed a bit less dense. Here, too, enough April sunlight came in to cast a shadow. A pool table hid in the darkened back of the room, lit mainly by neon beer ads. A sweaty chambray shirt stuck to her lean back. She sipped at a glass of Miller’s Draft, idly reading the labels on the bottles lined up in front of the mirror behind the bar. She paid no attention to the three young cowboys down the bar.

Cassandra, is that you, girlie?

She spun about to see who dared call her by her given name, but relaxed and laughed when she identified the grizzled little man behind her. Rob, you miserable horse thief. Where’d you come from?

He patted her arm with a gnarled hand and grinned, displaying two snags of teeth in a tobacco-stained mouth. I caught a ride from Harlowtown with my grandson. He wants to buy some black baldies from Lamars. I thought I’d come along and meander around town to see who I could find under the tumbleweeds.

This is a good place to look.

C’mon over to a table. I’ll buy you a drink. I can’t crawl up on them highchairs anymore. Eighty two years are startin’ to take their toll.

She unwound her long legs from the stool and chuckled. I’m tired from working a few cattle this morning. Could have used you today vaccinating four calves. Mom gave the shots. I did everything else. I would have cleaned up before I came to town if I’d have known you were here. She let him pull out a chair for her and waved to the bartender. Fill it again. Bob takes a ditch.

Good memory. Tell me about your ma and brother. And yourself. He took her left hand. Still no cowboy hereabouts tough enough to rope you, girlie?

Nope. Can’t find one that can hold a candle to you. The bartender brought their drinks and howdied Bob, who paid him, waving off the change.

Mom’s fine, a bit stove up with that darned arthritis, but she still can ride some and keeps house for the two of us. She’s home now, working on the cattle records. I drove in for some groceries. Grandy’s in California, computer punching. He says it’s easier than cow punching, and a lot more money. He’s divorced, but hot on the trail of a nice little filly. He’s coming home in June to show her off and get our approval, I guess.

They visited until Rob’s namesake pushed in through the door. The grandson only waved and motioned. Robert leaned over and whispered, Boy used to be an alcoholic. Can’t even come in for a smell, I guess. He gulped the rest of the ditch, gave Cassandra a quick kiss on her cheek and shuffled out.

Sand’s contented smile vanished when Cord McReynold called to her from the bar. Wanna join me for a beer, girlie? I didn’t know you ever ass-oshiated with any of us men on a friendly basis. He swaggered over and put his bottle on her table. Her mood switched to wariness. Cord had tried to date her several times, but she’d refused because of his pushiness and wild emotional swings. Dating, as long as it remained casual, was an excellent foil against gossips. McReynold’s land wrapped around theirs on three sides, a great sprawling Twenty-eight sections. She worked with them on fences and finding roaming stock. Much of their own water rose in the McReynold foothills. Sand tried to stay on good terms with all the family.

Sorry, Cord. I need to head home before Mom’s groceries spoil.

The hell. You ain’t finished your free beer yet. Never knew you Delorians to leave anything free. He wobbled a bit.

She stood, grabbed her glass, and walked to the bar. Frank, why don’t you do everyone a favor and bridle your buddy? He sounds like he’s had a few too many already. She turned to leave, but Cord blocked her way with a long arm. Their eyes met at the same level. She broke his stare, and looked at his dark hand on the bar. Please, get out of my way.

The bartender stopped washing glasses and turned to watch.

Cord’s words slurred as he leaned toward her. C’mon, Cashandra Delorian, I’ll buy ya another drink, man to man. I don’t think ya are female. Ya look more like a cowboy than a mama. Thosh probably ain’t even real. He pushed on her right breast with his free hand.

She stepped back, doubling her fists. Don’t ever touch me again. Get the hell out of my way, or I’ll kick your balls off, if you have any. She heard snickering behind her, but kept her eyes on her tormentor. She could tell his renowned anger had reached the boiling point. His handsome face flushed and his lips set in a snarl. He took in air in a great snort, like a bull setting to charge.

I’ll show ya balls, and a poker to make a stud jealous. He unbuckled his belt.

As he jerked open the button fly on his Levis, Sand grabbed her beer glass, threw its contents on the lump in his pants, and shoved him aside with her other arm. You need to be castrated.

The other men howled with laughter. She didn’t look back. Her battered old pickup caught on the first try. She pulled a U-turn in the middle of the street and headed for home. Crap, I’d better not tell Mom. I just could have turned him dangerous. She kept checking the rear view mirror until she turned off on their gravel road.

The aroma of roast chicken greeted her on the porch. Sand manipulated the two big paper bags to free a hand so she could open the kitchen door. Mary rushed to help her. My lord, Sis, ya didn’t clean up before you went to town? No wonder you’re not married. Ya look like a scarecrow that’s been drug behind a runaway. She reached for a sack.

Nobody would recognize me clean, Mom. I ran into old Rob Henderson at the Alkali. He asked to be remembered.

Land alive, he and my daddy were good friends. I ain’t heard of him since he went to live with his grandson.

He looks the same, a little shorter and more wrinkled. We had a good visit.

Mary put the milk away. I wish you wouldn’t go in that bar. Those men in there are so tough.

I needed to get some dust out of my throat and relax. She thought of the ugly scene with Cord. It’s usually quiet afternoons.

It’s no place for a lady. She looked fondly at her daughter and shook her head. I never was one for prettyin’ myself up, either, but you could scrape off some of the dirt. Tatterdemalion, that’s what ya look like: a ragamuffin.

Sand shook her head. You and your crossword puzzles.

Ya need to have somethin’ to eat. Holly and her grandmother’ll be here any minute.

Oh, jeez, I’d forgotten. I’ll take a quick shower. In truth, the saloon confrontation had filled her thoughts since leaving there. Cord’s tanned face, its wild expression, had burned into her mind. His father was a gentleman. He’d been good to them since Grande left for the Golden State, coming with his hired men to help with branding, roundup, and shipping. He doted on his son, though, buying him out of minor scrapes with the law, and indulging most of his wants. Cord inherited his mother’s ugly personality and lengthy memory for grudges. The woman had snubbed Mary at any social gatherings since her divorce. She’d made it clear the Delorians were in the sub-basement of her social tower.

Sand toweled off, put on clean clothes, grabbed a chicken leg, and ran to the corrals to saddle the horses. As she tied the halter ropes to hitch rings on the barn, Holly drove around the bend. Sand ducked into the tack room for gear.

Hello, the corrals. Holly’s sweet voice set her spine tingling.

She remembers western protocol of announcing one’s arrival, Sand thought. She grabbed two blankets in one hand and a saddle by its horn in the other. As she stepped outside Holly crawled through the corral poles. Skin-tight jeans over her delightful behind made Sand’s crotch twitch.

Hi, there. Can I help?

No, not yet. Good to see you. She threw a red blanket on Biscuit, and gave the sorrel’s rump a pat, wishing it were Holly’s. Reaching for the saddle she set it on the mare and put the stirrups, cinch and latigo down. You’re early. Almost caught me in the shower.

Smells good. The horse, I mean. Holly blushed and rubbed Biscuit’s nose. It’s another of the wonderful things I didn’t remember.

Was this a double meaning? Does Holly still have good memories of me after her years of marriage? We’ll talk on the ride. She finished saddling and bridling the two horses and helped her friend mount, shortening the stirrup leathers for her.

At first Holly chattered about her three sons. Gradually, she wound down, and started commenting on the hills, rock formations, plants, and clouds. They rode for a while in silence, interrupted occasionally by Holly’s, Look at the yucca. I’d forgotten the Elephant Rock. Oh, the sand lilies are in bloom.

Sand enjoyed her child-like enthusings. They opened her own eyes to the wonders that she too often took for granted. Inhaling the smells of grass and moist earth she gave thanks for living in Montana and having the ranch, no matter how difficult the work.

What about you, Sandy, how’s your life going?

She thought a moment. Evenly, I guess. Mom and I handle the ranching alone ninety per cent of the time. Cattle prices are up a bit. I wired the barn and put in water so calving’s easier.

I meant you. You person. Your life.

Me, person? Not a good topic. Her mind froze. My life? Not much to say. I live by the seasons. Work hard. Mom and I get along well. We watch T.V., neighbor some. Mom’s active in church and plays cribbage with her old pals on weekends.

That’s still not you.

That’s about all there is. The ranch owns and operates me. She led the way out to a hill above the line cabin and reined in Red Cloud.

Holly enthused, Look at that view. Snowy Mountains are still full of snow. Your grandfather should have built up here instead of down in the bottom.

Lots of wind, no water on a hilltop.

You’re too practical, too solid, Sandy.

That’s what’s wrong with me?

I didn’t mean they’re character flaws.

Sand put her hand on the cantle and half-lifted her weight to look back at Holly. Her chest tightened, making it hard to breathe. She had to find out Holly’s feelings. Today, before she took off for somewhere. Holly had dropped hints, seemed interested. Rushing could be catastrophic. She urged her big appaloosa down the hill.

At the log hut Holly dismounted and pulled at the crotch of her jeans. Woof, it’s been a long time since I rode this far. These pants ‘fit me too soon’, as granddad used to say.

The pants look good on you, even if they don’t feel okay.

Holly ignored her. Gosh, the cabin’s smaller and rougher than I remembered.

They tied the horses to a young aspen. Sand scraped the door open, sweeping her hand ahead to clear spider webs as they entered. The soot-covered stove sat with the chimney incomplete. A boarded window let in dusty shafts of light. Broken glass and dirt still lay where they had been swept into a pile. The musty urine and feces smell of pack rats filled the room. More light filtered in through unchinked logs, making little searchlight patches of dim yellow on the floor.

It’s been too long, Sand muttered.

Wide-eyed, Holly stared about and sniffed, then backed out the door. Hardly worth the ride. I guess like they say, ‘You can’t come back.’ I remembered this as a fun place, cute, really nice, you know?

I wrecked it. She scuffed at a chunk of old manure on the ground.

You did? Why?

Because of you, Holly. Sand spun about, foot in mouth, talking too loud. There could be no going back. Don’t you remember anything about us?

Holly scowled, and stepped back. Yes, unfortunately, embarrassingly. We were kids. She shrugged, I suppose all kids dink around.

I’m not like all kids. I loved you. When you got pregnant and married Wineset, I wanted to die. I came out and trashed this to keep from killing that college jock, or you, or myself.

Sandy, I had to. What you and I did was wrong, unclean. I needed to be sure I was okay, that the guys liked me, that I could have good sex with a man.

Sand looked across the draw, the smell of pack rat behind her, of fresh horse manure to one side, of clean air and grass beyond. The flute-call of a meadowlark threaded the air. Look at me, pretty bird, look at me. Defeated, hollowed out, she thought a moment. What the hell? After all these years, why not? I’m already into this bog hole. Holly, I’m a lesbian. I’m attracted to women. You were the first. There’ve been others I liked. One night stands, a couple gals that one year of college.

Holly’s mouth gaped and her eyes widened. You can’t mean it!

God’s truth. I’ll check the fence tomorrow. Let’s get back to the house. Mom would like to hear more about your kids. She untied Red Cloud, grabbed the saddle horn, and in one liquid movement put her foot in the stirrup and swung onto him.

Holly struggled her left foot into the stirrup, reached high for the horn, and finally pulled herself into the saddle. Come on. We came out to ride fence. Let’s do it. Living in a city nine years has shock-proofed me.

What’s to shock? Her temper rose. Had she been alone, she’d have ridden home at a flat-out run. Waiting for Holly to gather the reins, she tried to gather her self-possession. Her old friend irked