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- Herausgeber: Buchman Bookworks, Inc.
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018
-a Henderson’s Ranch romance story- Mac Henderson started out no more of a ranch owner than he did a Navy SEAL. Adrift on the post-college tide of the ’70s, with no direction planned, he headed west to surf. But fate had other plans for him—beneath Montana’s Big Sky. A broken starter motor during Cheyenne Frontier Days led him to witness Ama’s traditional dance for her tribe. Since that moment, for twenty years, she has believed in his dream, inspired him, and given him a son (Mark Henderson). It was only when Mac retired that she found her own dream. Her reward? Finding Henderson’s Ranch.
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Finding Henderson’s Ranch
a Henderson’s Ranch romance story
M. L. Buchman
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My thanks for this story idea go to a fan who asked me to explain why it was Henderson’s Ranch (singular) rather than Hendersons’ Ranch (an unintentional mistake, or so I thought at the time).
Elf, it took me a year to figure out the real answer, but here you go.
1
Mac Henderson didn’t know whether to hate himself or the Top 40 station coming out of Cheyenne. In Wyoming it was that or country, so the choice of what to listen to wasn’t hard. But the songs were insidious. How was it possible that he knew every word to sing along with John Travolta’s You’re the One That I Want? Mac did have to fake the high notes which perhaps implied he wasn’t a complete “Lost Cause” his mother always accused him of. She said it with a smile, but still, it stung.
More importantly, how did Travolta get up there?Maybe it was those tight pants.
Wyoming. Could he get more different than Ohio? He’d left the lush greens of Oberlin right after graduation. Kissed Penny goodbye—nothing serious so no heartache—and headed west.
“Surfing?” She was an overachiever type and was joining the Peace Corps, headed for Africa with her honors degree in psychology.
“Sure. Get me some sun and surf.”
“And surfer babes?” Penny didn’t sound even a little hurt, which meant their time together had been less meaningful than he’d thought. Chump!
“Sure, why not? What else am I supposed to do with a degree in French Literature?” He suspected that the defensive tone hadn’t served him well.
“Have you ever surfed?”
“Now’s my big chance.”
“That’s a pretty directionless choice, Mac.” She’d shaken her head sadly, her Farrah Fawcett blonde curls wafting about her face. She was as fun as she was trendy and cute. They’d only been together for the last couple months of senior year though, now that he thought about it, she’d always given him the feeling that she was slumming a bit and mostly marking time.
He’d never been one for high goals. His dad had been a professor of French Lit at Loyola until he’d stroked out (in two ways) in a coed’s arms at forty-eight. Mac had decided to follow in his footsteps, for reasons passing anyone’s understanding—including his own. Even more disillusioning, he’d generally had better luck with the French Lit than the coeds. Penny had been the exception, not the rule. But even if he applied for the Peace Corps now, they’d be all out of sync. Not that he wanted to.
Wanted to.
For four years everyone—the entire college experience—had gone on and on about how they could all be anything they “wanted to.” But for the life of him he couldn’t figure out what that might be for him.
Travolta’s “Oo-oo-oo” croon with perky blonde Newton-John gave way to ABBA’s Take a Chance on Me.
