That Summer on the N Bar N , livre ebook

Austin Macauley Publishers LLC - Betty Munson

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36 pages

English

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The Nelson's N Bar N family-owned ranch has a colorful history. Nelson is well aware of the heritage of the present owners, Grant and Victoria, and operates it with the help of hired hand, Clint Warrior. Their annual summer visitors that include their grandchildren, Keith, and Ann Marie, joined this year by Keith's best friend, Danny, look forward to their stay at N Bar N. They expect nothing unusual but the unusual does happen. It involves Grant, Victoria, the kids, as well as Yellowstone Pete, the Sheriff, Sairy, the mule, ornery Billy Willits, and the playful big dog, Pluto. It is all woven together, forming a never-to-be-forgotten summer, written and saved in the ranch record book.

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Publié par	Austin Macauley Publishers LLC
Date de parution	06 janvier 2023
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781638291329
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	1 Mo

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T hat S ummer o n t he N B ar N
B etty M unson
A ustin M acauley P ublishers
2023-01-06
That Summer on the N Bar N About the Author Dedication Copyright Information © Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight
About the Author
Northern Montana prairie land is home to Betty Munson. A family consisting of one husband and seven children kept her occupied as she absorbed the stories of her community’s settlement, its people: why they came, the hardships they endured; why they stayed, and why they left. Such as a Southern doctor and his wife accompanied by her black slave – a former embassy secretary – a trained druggist, turned farmer, and of course, the men of dubious behavior who sought a safer environment.
Intrigued by their stories, she recorded some. Others are stored in her memory bank for future telling. Some, best left untold.
Regional and local newspaper stories filled in when ‘the empty nest syndrome’ opened doors to new horizons. The ‘writing gene’ remains active in her life.
Dedication
To my grandchildren:
Andrew
Keith
Angela
Copyright Information ©
Betty Munson 2023
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher.
Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Ordering Information
Quantity sales: Special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the address below.
Publisher’s Cataloging-in-Publication data
Munson, Betty
That Summer on the N Bar N
ISBN 9781638291312 (Paperback)
ISBN 9781638291329 (ePub e-book)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2022921391
www.austinmacauley.com/us
First Published 2023
Austin Macauley Publishers LLC
40 Wall Street,33rd Floor, Suite 3302
New York, NY 10005
USA
mail-usa@austinmacauley.com
+1(646)5125767
Chapter One
That summer vacation began ordinarily enough. Grant and Victoria’s grandson, Keith, had come to the ranch for the summer as well as Danny, his schoolmate and best friend. Ordinary—a summer like past summers with the boys there, she supposed it would—boys being boys—be lively.
It began one particular evening, as Victoria smilingly viewed the outdoor picture framed from kitchen’s the south window. The greening summer grass on the rolling hills, the outbuildings and corrals brought to mind the Nelson family history—the background of what had brought this ranch into being and how she had come here as Grant’s wife.
Grant had chosen her, a town girl, over the ranch girls he could have married. Bringing her to the ranch on one of their dating days, she had gazed at the surroundings and said softly, “It’s so beautiful.”
He had looked into her eyes and asked, “Do you like it?”
She often thought that had been the day he realized she would love and care for the land as he did; “It has a past; I can feel it,” she told him. She often thought that was the day he thought seriously about marrying her, although she was thoroughly unacquainted with ranch life. But she had learned because she had wanted to. She treasured the history of the ranch found in journals left by its earliest inhabitants. Hard work, sickness, and death tragedy overcome, and love filled their pages, and now, her journaling, as well as Grant’s contributions, recorded their activities, their thoughts and feelings. Today she had written: Keith and his friend, Danny, are coming today. I wonder what this summer will bring…
Victoria smiled as she watched from the window; the boys were racing to the house for supper. Keith and Danny, scuffling and laughing, ran toward the kitchen door with Pluto the Third in noisy pursuit. The boys hadn’t waited for the dinner bell that would bring Grant and Clint, their hired hand, up from the barn. Twelve-year-old Keith still liked to ring the triangular-shaped iron announcing mealtimes. His inward timing always brought him to the house so he could strike the three sides—the triangle that had been in place since the ranch’s beginning.
Victoria Nelson thought once again how much her grandson, Keith, resembled William Nelson. Keith had the hazel eyes, wavy blond hair, sturdy build, and firm determination of his great-grandfather William.
Keith’s father, Ted, had not wanted ranch life. Instead, he chose the banking business as Victoria’s father had. At least he had opted to stay close by; he had not chosen the big-city life. It saddened Grant and Victoria that their other sons had left the country life for careers far from home. But that is life they reminded themselves: we cannot choose the paths our children take.
Their sons were all so different—in looks, temperament, and talents. Grant had chosen the ranch life, and now Keith seemed bent in walking in the steps of his grandpa and great-grandpa. Will would have appreciated Keith; Victoria knew that for a surety. Both Will and Marion, his wife, now lay in their graves in the cemetery near town. Their lives had been a great pattern to follow.
In looks, Grant favored his mother. He was tall, red-haired, and slim-hipped but quiet like his father, Will.
Catching sight of herself in the mirror, she patted her short graying hair into place and pushed her glasses back up on her nose. It seemed only yesterday that she had come to the ranch as a bride. And now look—bifocals. Lurking laughter crinkled at the corners of her eyes as she called through the screen door, “Boys. It’s time for supper.”
The boys rolled on the grass in play as Pluto, the big dog, pretended to be a fierce adversary. Danny, the beanpole, blue eyes dancing with impish delight answered, “Coming, Mrs. Nelson,” as Keith went to ring the dinner bell.
Keith usually spent his summer vacations with his grandparents. Danny was visiting there for two weeks before going to his father’s home in Seattle, Washington, for the rest of the summer.
Danny and Keith had like minds; they enjoyed the great outdoors on the ranch land. Always open to the idea of adventure, Danny, the tall sandy-haired boy, appreciated the invitation to spend some time on the ranch.
Grandma, an adventuresome spirit herself, encouraged their hiking and camping excursions. Not that they needed much encouragement, these two boys, but Grandpa insisted on a certain amount of chores. He didn’t want them to get too spoiled, he said. “This is a working ranch,” he reminded them.
The next day found the boys preparing for camping at the foot of Lookout Mountain. They were taking Pluto, the oversized German shepherd, mix along for company. Pluto was Keith’s parents’ dog; however, their neighbors in town did not appreciate his playful greetings or his nocturnal barking, so he had been relegated to the ranch.
They had reasoned it all out—Ted, Naomi, James, Keith, and Anne Marie—Grandma could use a watchdog. She wasn’t as young as she used to be, they said—failing to mention that her aim with a .22 rifle was accurate as ever. She could hit what she aimed at, dead center. And she had speedily dismissed more than one eager-beaver salesman from the premises. But being the loving grandma, she had Pluto as a watchdog.
The boys had their nooning at the old Deer Creek campsite. Having raised five boys herself, Grandma understood young boys’ ranch appetites. She had made roast beef sandwiches of home-baked bread spread with real butter—courtesy of the Guernsey, Molly-Cow. “That’s one good thing about her,” Grandma often said. “You have to remember that when chasing that fence-crawler.”
The boys carried Grandma’s doughnuts and apple pie for snacks and a sack of cookies in case they ran out of necessities as well as canned stew and inevitably canned pork and beans.
Grandpa continually teased the boys about ‘their hollow legs.’ “Gotta keep those legs filled, you know,” he warned nearly every day.