A Pair of Second Chances (Ben Jensen Series Book 1) Read Free Page A

empty bottle would be found the next spring in the grass along the road by the volunteers from Chesney Funeral Home. They'd pick it up during their annual civic duty clean up of their mile of highway.
    The truck managed to make it back to the ranch, carrying its cargo of groceries, booze and Cowboy without further incident. The eggs and meat were dropped into an icebox, along with the ice. It was already partially filled with a few odds and ends of groceries cooled by a couple inches of water and half melted ice. All except, that is, for one steak which found itself in a cast iron frying pan on the wood stove. HOOO Wee!… genuine, fried, Cowboy cuisine.
    Ben sat at the small table, taking pulls from the first of the Johnny Walker bottles, waiting for the meat to sear enough to eat. Most times, he could just about eat it raw… And the way he was pullin’ on that bottle, he wasn’t going to be in a shape to be much concerned with the quality of his supper for very long, anyway.
    A.H. lay across the room, at the foot of the bunk, homely head resting on his paws, watching the man. The dog knew something had changed in the man. Something was missing. But he was a dog, what did he know? He hadn’t a clue. But, when the man passed out again, like he did, most every night these days, he’d be there to stand guard over him. He’d make sure nothing got to him in the night. It wasn’t much, but it was what he could do.
    Ben poked at the meat sizzling in the pan, took a strong pull on the bottle and asked, glancing at the dog; “So, A.H., whad-a-ya-think? Ya big ugly mutt! How do ya suppose we’re gonna scratch up the cash to keep that God Damn Banker off our asses for another year, huh?”
    With another pull on the bottle, the Cowboy just looked at the dog for a long, few seconds. “Well? Ya lousy mutt! I’m talkin’ to ya! Ain’t you even got the manners to answer a simple, damn question?”… and another pull. The dog just laid there, head on his paws… eyes fixed on the man… tail wagging.
    “You are right A.H. Why should I expect you to know? Hell you’re just like me. Nothing but a big, God damned Ass Hole!”
    “Maybe Linus is right A.H. But… damn it… I miss her… I can’t look anywhere on this ranch… ‘thout seein’ her hand... I… “ and a wracking sob exploded from deep within the man…
    A.H. rose from his bed and rested his head on Ben’s thigh, brown eyes pleading for some way to help.
    “Well Ol’ bud, you’re still hangin’ on with me, ain’t you?” the man said softly to that homely mutt, his hand resting on his great head. His thumb softly stroking one ear. “I still got you.”
    “I guess, tomorrow, we better go find some horses… the way the market is, they ain’t worth much, but maybe if I get lucky and can catch up half of ‘em, I might could squeeze a few thousand out of ‘em. Cull out more of what’s left of the cowherd… hit the sale on the right day… maybe I can save this deal… for another year anyway… maybe…”
    He raised the bottle to his mouth one last time, and as the glass touched his lips he stopped. The vision of Ellen floated in front of his eyes. Her eyes sad and pleading…her hand reaching out… Ben clamped his eyes shut, squinting with all his strength… the hand holding the bottle sagging to his side.
    “No… No more… not tonight… no… more…” and sitting there, in a battered wooden chair, in a raggedy one room cabin, the broken hearted Cowboy passed out, sitting in his chair, his chin sagging down on to his chest... his supper starting to smoke on the stove.
     
     
    Chapter 2
     
     
    Her eyes scanned up and down the hall, furtively, fearfully. A small boy was held in her left arm, head on her shoulder, as she picked up a medium sized, blue gym bag from the floor, pulled at the straps of the large purse hanging from her other shoulder, and pulled the door closed. The door lock clicked, sounding like a sonic boom to her in the empty