Home Sweet Home

Walter's POV:

We picked up my truck from the long term parking lot at the airport then drove into town to pick up supplies. Alex remained quiet and stoic the whole time. I showed him around town, acclimating Alex to our new life. I showed him the general store which also doubles as the post office. Yeah, I know how hokey that sounds but we're kind of in the middle of nowhere. Alex had to learn about the general surroundings, the lay of the land, so to speak. I introduced him to Emma, she and her husband, Bob, own the store and run the post office. All of Alex's belongings were shipped there so we had to get them. They all know me and that I worked for the FBI so I introduced Alex as a retired agent. Not too far from the truth. They accepted my explanation as we purchased our groceries and the other supplies we'd need for the month. It didn't take too long to load up my old pickup for the drive to the ranch. We've been here for a month now and I'm still not convinced that Alex likes the ranch.

The ranch, I think it shocked Alex as we pulled up the main drive. I guess I should have described the ranch a bit more thoroughly. I don't know what he was expecting, maybe Little House on the Prairie. It's certainly not Southfork, more like the Ponderosa. It has two floors but I use the main floor. Why furnish and heat two floors when all I need is one. When you walk in, it's all kitchen and living room. The kitchen has a large dining area and the far wall of the living room is made up of all stone and fireplace. The bedroom and bathroom is toward the back of the house as well as two other rooms that I haven't figured out what to do with yet. Alex didn't say a word as we stowed our supplies and brought in his possessions. I gave him the tour of the kitchen first, hoping he'd feel at home enough to help himself to whatever he wanted but it took him weeks to stop asking permission to make a pot of coffee.

He seemed to fall in love with the fireplace. Right after I showed Alex a room that he could use to store his stuff while we rearranged my bedroom, he silently asked to light a fire. It's summer, for cripes sakes. But he stood staring at the huge thing then turned those eyes like big jade agates, on me. How could I resist? I lit the fire. As it caught, he stripped off his shirt, pulled off his boots then laid down on the big thick rug before the hearth. Within minutes he was fast asleep, snoring those cute little snores. I was flabbergasted. He slept there the whole afternoon. Eventually I covered him with a thin sheet and kept the fire stoked for him. Every once in a while I checked to see if the boy was still breathing; he was. Around ten that night he came to my, now our room, dropped his clothes and crawled into bed. He rooted around for a few minutes then buried himself into my armpit and was out for the count. Did I mention the boy can sleep?

Another week went by and he still hadn't unpacked his belongings. I even offered him the entire second floor. It mirrors the first floor, minus the kitchen. He explored around up there but chose to stay on the first floor with me. His clothes are always clean, doing his laundry with mine, but so far he hasn't hung up anything in our closet even though it's more than big enough. And I have plenty of drawer space but his clothes remain neatly folded in the spare room in his boxes.

The first chance we had I showed Alex the barn, chicken coop, my workshop and the corral. He met the ornery chickens with a little disdain but if he was going to call the ranch home, he'd have to learn all of its workings, including the chickens, cows and the horses. I have to ride out monthly to check the perimeter fences. As they say, good fences make for good neighbors and even though my neighbors are few and far between, I have to check and mend the fences regularly. Imagine my surprise when I learned Alex could ride. All he said was that it was a part of his training from the Englishman, end of discussion. Knowing how to handle a horse is a necessity out here. A man on a horse can go places where a truck can't.

Alex gave me a fright one day about three weeks into his stay. He disappeared for hours. Now, if I wasn't so worried that he just took off and left me, I would have realized that he left me enough clues to follow him. They were so obvious, even to a greenhorn. After I calmed down, I followed his trail. He had walked off a couple miles to an old dried up riverbed. I used to come here often when I first moved in. It's peaceful, very calming and beautiful. A place where you could come to relax, soak up some sun and yeah, sleep. And there he was, my sleeping beauty, leaning up against an old fallen log, snoring away. I carefully set myself down next to him and sure enough I felt him nudge himself under my arm then heard that contented sigh. I bet he's making up for decades of no sleep.

We seemed to find an easy rhythm of rising early, collecting eggs for breakfast and taking turns preparing our meals. I have a hired hand that comes out daily to tend the cows. Billy is his name. He's a kid that used to work for the former owner of the ranch and when I bought the place Billy sort of came with the package. Anyway, he milks the cows for me and whatever he and his parents don't use he sells to the local dairy. I also give him the extra eggs; nothing goes to waste. I get a good reliable ranch hand; Billy and his parents get fresh eggs and milk. I like my milk from the store, not directly from the cow. What can I say? I'm a city boy at heart. Every two weeks Billy brings me milk and cheese from the dairy; that's about as fresh as I can stand it. One day Billy brought my mail and a package for Alex as well as the milk and cheese. The next day I woke up to the aroma of strong Russian coffee.

I guess the turning point in our relationship was the day I showed Alex my gun cabinet. I always carry the key with me. I took the spare key, handed it to Alex and asked him to open the cabinet. I have a couple of shotguns and my old service revolver. Alex gave them the once over. I know he's an expert with weapons and he nodded and grunted his approval. I really have no need for the guns, maybe just to scare off an occasional wolf, but after years of living with them, I feel safer with them around. I keep them clean, well oiled and locked up. After his examination, Alex bent over to take out a small weapon from his boot. It was a strange looking gun, made from a plastic or polymer that I'm not familiar with. He handed me the gun, butt first, to let me get a good look. When I handed it back, I expected him to put it back into his boot but he removed all the bullets then placed it neatly next to my revolver on the shelf. He locked up the cabinet and handed me back the key. I stopped him; told him to keep it. He nodded and turned to walk back to the kitchen then suddenly he did an about face.

"Walter, if you don't mind, I'd like to unpack now."

That's when I knew, he was home to stay. Alex was finally home.

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