still_grrr | Prompt 072: Our Mrs. Reynolds

Title: The Real Mrs. Reynolds
Author: Spiralleds
Rating: G
Word Count: 458
Prompt: Free For All (072)
Character: Mal, OC

The reins sat easy in Hoss’ hands. Beau and Peep knew the route as fair as he did and temperaments as fair to boot. Hoss wiped the dust and sweat from his forehead, then snuck a look over at Malcolm. Usual, the boy was as wriggly as a puppy; full of a hundred and one questions. Nature of an eight year old. But today? Sitting still as could be, brow scrunched up like he was thinking something fierce. Smart thing’d be to leave well ‘nough alone, but that just wasn’t the way of anyone on the Reynolds’ ranch, hands included.

“Cat got your tongue, boy?”

Mal started, blinking and rubbing the heel of his hand across his forehead. “Nah, just thinking.”

“’Bout what?”

“How come we’re bringing hay to the Quilleran place?” asked Mal, serious as could be.

“They ain’t got any. Their barns burned down,” Hoss explained, leaving out the part that it weren’t no act of God, but likely the Westons.

Mal’s mouth opened and closed once, twice, thrice, with nothing coming out.

“Gonna catch flies that way.”

Coloring up a bit, Mal blurted out, “But we ain’t got near enough for our cattle.”

“Were’d you hear that?”

“Heard Pete tell Jimmy. He said the summer’s been too dry. Crops’s all sickly.”

“That so.” Hoss’d need to remind Pete that little pitchers have big ears.

“Yeah. It’s so.” Mal’s arms crossed over his chest. “So why we bringing hay if we ain’t got enough for ourselves?”

“Cuz it’s her way.”

The boy’s face was a wash of confusion. Didn’t even need to say, “Why?”

Hoss spoke slow, not sure how to explain what just was. “Mal, your ma, she lives by a higher law. One that says to take care of the least of these. Even if’n you ain’t got much yourself, you share it.” Looking out to the horizon, Hoss continued, saying, “I remember when you pa died. Most women, they’d hold on to everything and anything to remind 'em of their man. Not your ma. Before the mourning period was out, every stitch of clothes you pa had was on a man who’d had nothing but threadbares. S’why I stay on, even when other ranches make an offer.”

Glancing over, he could see the boy hanging on every word. Tweren't easy being a lad without a pa.

"Our Mrs. Reynolds, she’s a mighty good woman. Your pa was the same. You can’t do any better than to live up to your name."

“Yes, sir.”

That deep-thinking look was back on Mal’s face. Maybe it was time to introduce the boy to driving the rig. He unwound the reins from his fingers.

“Mal, how about you finish taking Beau and Peep on into the Quilleran place?"