Plain spoken(Darrell Case) Mason reined up on the hill overlooking the MG ranch. Michelle stood in the morning light, the ring of golden hair curling out from under her hat. It shined in the morning sun, giving her a halo effect. Even in fated jeans, an old shirt and worn boots, she looked good. He watched; his breath caught in his throat. She fought the longhorn bull moving around the big corral. The bull charged her several times. Each time, she stepped aside. The bull came up empty.
She maneuvered crossed the corral until she was in front of the gate to a small pen. Head lowered; the bull came at her again. She waited until the last second, then stepped aside. The momentum of the longhorn carried him past her and into the pen. She slammed the gate before the bull could turn around. And when he did, he found himself trapped. Mason urged his horse forward. Michelle was talking to the bull when he rode up. “Told you I would get you.”
“Well, that was a fine piece of bull fighting if’n I do say so myself.” He said, dismounting. He tied his horse to the corral fence.
“Your late.” She said, smiling.
“Horse threw a shoe. Had to fix it.”
“Bulls out of the way. We can start branding the calves if you’re ready.” She said. Together they ran the calves into a jointing corral.
It proved harder than they thought. It took them an hour to separate the calves from the older stock. Both of them were covered in sweat by the time they were ready to start branding. Putting more wood for the branding iron on the fire. They set in the porch shade with glasses of water from the well.
“We’ll just brand them this morning, then send them back to their mothers.” She said.
He nodded.
For the next three hours, they ran the calves through the chute. Michelle had rigged it up herself. They ran a calf down a narrow path with board fences on both sides. Finaly they were caught. Too many calves behind them to back up. A small gate in front of them. Another sliding gate between them and the calf behind them. Michelle touched the branding iron against their right flank. The calf had felt nothing like the red-hot iron. They bellowed as she touched their hide. Done with the one just branded Mason opened the gate. He then moved the next calf forward to be ready for Michelle. Now carrying the MG brand, the calf flew out into the pasture, shaking its tail. It would hurt for the next two days. They ran the last one out just before noon. They ate steaks cooked over the branding fire and coffee. She tried to pay him for his help but he refused.
After the meal, Mason returned to his ranch dissatisfied. Michelle was a beautiful woman, self-sufficient. Since her father died last year; she ran the operation with occasional help. Mason had been alone for years, but never lonely until now. He enjoyed ranch work herding cattle, checking on them every day. He ate alone; he went to bed alone; he woke up alone. In the evening, he set on the back porch and watched the sunset. 31 and what did he have to show for his life?
Michelle finished the chores and looked crossed the plains. Her life stretched before her like an open book. Her father never liked cities, he always said. “Too many people in one place.”
She felt the same way, but every once in a while, a wave of loneliness hit her. She thought of Mason. He was strong, self-assured and independent. At 25, she had given up on love. On Sunday mornings, she dressed in her finest and drove the buggy 3 miles to the little country church.
The congregation made up of mostly ranchers. The pastor was a young man with a wife and two little boys. Her heart ached when she saw them. She longed for a family. Some Sunday mornings Mason set beside her. Other times in the back of the church. They both had accepted Christ years before.
Her mom had been gone since Michelle was fifteen. With ten years under her belt, she still missed her. Now her dad gone a year.
After the supper meal, she settled in and opened the new novel from Charles Dickens. She woke a couple of hours later. “Well, Charly, you’re better than the best sleeping medicine doc gives out.” She placed the book on a shelf and went to bed.
The next morning, she stopped in the middle of breakfast. She had let the bull loose in the pasture the day before. She looked out on him now. He lay in the barn lot, stretched out. As Michelle walked upon him, he glared at her with unfocused eyes. She touched him on the flank, something she would never do if he was on his feet.
“What’s wrong Buddy? Don’t you feel well?” She knelt down beside him and reached out a hand to feel his nose. He threw his horns around, missing her by an inch. She fell backward on her butt. Then scrambled to her feet. “Not too sick that you don’t wanna fight?” The bull ambled to his feet and stood on unsteady legs. Michelle backed away.
Mason was in the south pasture when she rode up. “You’re a hard guy to find,” Michelle said, raining her horse up beside his.
“Checking the cattle. What’s wrong?” He ask seeing concern on her face.
“Bulls down. Don’t know what’s wrong. He was fine yesterday.” Mounting, he rode beside her.
Arriving at her place, he approached the longhorn. The bull was laying down again. Taking a rope from his saddle, he looped it around the bull’s horns. He put his ear down to the bull’s mouth.
Mason looped the rope around the corral post. “Hold him.” He said, handing her the end of the rope.
“What’s wrong?” She asks, holding the rope steady.
“Can’t breathe. Something in his throat. Gotta get it out or he’s gonna die.”
Reaching in, he found what he was looking for. Taking his rifle from the boot on his saddle, he leaned it against the corral fence. Moving quickly, he jerked a live rattlesnake out of the bull’s throat. Michelle’s eyes widened. The snake landed ten feet away. It curled, ready to strike. Grabbing up the rifle, Mason aimed and fired. The snake’s head disappeared. What was left of the rattler withered on the ground. Mason wiped the sweat from his forehead.
They unwound the rope from the bull’s horns. The bull stumbled to his feet, looked at them and ambled away. “How did you know?” Michelle ask watching the longhorn.
“Had to be something in his throat. Didn’t know it was a rattler until I felt it.” Mason leaned against the fence. “Marry me.”
Michelle’s mouth hung open. “What?” She said, not sure she heard him right.
“Look Michelle, I love you. Have since the first time I saw you trying to catch frogs in the pond.” He said, smiling.
“I was six.” She said.
“And you fought me. I ended up wetter than you.” He said, laughing.
“She grinned. “I wanted that big bullfrog. And you was stopping me from getting him.”
“You almost drown. Your daddy warmed your tail,” He said. Looping the rope, he tied it back on the saddle.
“Yes. What you didn’t know is I have been in love with you for years. I will marry you.” Michelle said, coming to him. Dusty, sweaty, unprepared, they kissed.
Six weeks later, they stood before the preacher in the little country church. Each one repeated vows that would last a lifetime and beyond.

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