One

Nebraska 1969

 

WHAT MORE DID he need? The man offered him one hundred dollars a week, including room and board, plus food. Merle would be a fool not to accept the offer.

“I’ll take the job.” Dang, it felt good saying those words. How many jobs had he applied for in the last two months? At least a dozen, and this was the first offer he had gotten.

Merle glanced down at his too-big shoes and grungy pants. He figured his appearance had put some people off… most people off. Unfortunately, Merle couldn’t do a dang thing about it. The guy didn’t have two dimes to rub together.

He felt it in his bones. This job would change his life beyond his wildest dreams.

“When can you start?” Mr. Jensen asked. He didn’t appear to be a chatty man, standing there with his hands in his pockets and a cigarette between his lips. He had a deep furrowed brow and dull, ice-blue eyes. Merle appreciated the man’s reserved demeanor. He wasn’t a big talker either.

“Right now.” Merle had nowhere to go and nothing to do. He might as well get working.

“Let me show you to your room, son.”

Son? Merle couldn’t recall ever being called son before. Mr. Jensen didn’t have any sons, or so he hadn’t mentioned in the last three minutes. However, he had one daughter, Peggy. Mr. Jensen told Merle to stay the hell away from her.

He’d have no problem following Jensen’s order. Merle had one goal: get out of Nebraska. He only wanted to earn enough money to get him to California; then he could have year-round sunshine, see the ocean, and marry a movie star. Maybe even Farrah Fawcett, whom he’d seen on The Dating Game. Merle sure liked her long golden hair and full lips.

Keeping away from a small-town country girl would be easy as pie.

Merle followed Mr. Jensen to a room inside the barn. He didn’t care if he slept with the animals. It had to have been better than the shed he snuck into at night.

“What about your things?”

His things? Merle had all he owned in a bag he brought with him. It only contained an extra pair of underwear and socks, one shirt, a bar of soap, and a toothbrush.

“I’ll collect them after work.” He cringed at the lie, but he didn’t want his new employer to know he was homeless.

Mr. Jensen nodded. “I like you, Merle.” He opened a door. “This is it. Check it out and meet me out front in five minutes.” He left without another word.

Merle couldn’t believe it. The room wasn’t big by any means, but it was a room with a door and, from what he could see, no mice or cobwebs. There was an actual cot to sleep on with a pillow and blankets. He’d be living it up now.

He rubbed his hands together and grinned so wide, his face hurt.

“California, here I come!”

Merle left his new room and was given the grand tour of Jensen’s Cattle Ranch. Jensen, as he requested Merle call him, didn’t talk much as he drove his Ford down a dirt road. The quiet man had another cigarette between his lips. He didn’t quite intimidate Merle, but he also didn’t endear him.

“How many acres ya got here?” Merle asked, interested in more than just where to dump the manure.

“Almost a thousand.”

“Impressive.”

“Not really. We’re a smaller operation compared to others in the area.”

“How many cattle?”

Jensen looked at him sidelong as if surprised by his question. “One fifty.”

“Plan on increasing your numbers?”

Jensen scratched his temple, then stamped out his smoke.

“Maybe. If I had good workers helping me…”

Merle didn’t say any more. He might be a hardworking fellow, even interested in learning about ranching, but the first chance he got, he’d cut out of Nebraska on a bus heading west. There was sense in letting Jensen believe he’d be around for the long haul.

They looped around and returned to the main part of the ranch, neither saying a word. It was just as well. Merle preferred they didn’t get chummy. Though, he could tell even after only spending an hour with Jensen that he was a man Merle wouldn’t mind knowing better.

Merle never had friends. In school, there were bullies he avoided. Then there were the kids he protected from the bullies when needed, weaker kids than him. School hadn’t been his thing.

After junior high, his gram died. With nowhere to go or any family to take him in, Merle had spent the last four years simply surviving. He’d fended for himself day and night, sleeping in sheds and eating out of dumpsters when needed. Anything to avoid going to an orphanage.

High school became an obstacle. His peers made fun of him for his dirty clothes and greasy hair. What kid could learn anything while enduring teasing and scrutiny from students and teachers alike? So he dropped out of school.

“Dinner is at seven every night. Come in through the kitchen side door. I’m not the greatest cook, but it’s edible. Normally my daughter cooks, but she’s busy tonight… graduation activities or something,” he said with a shrug.

“Yes, sir.”

“Unload the feed in the back of the truck and put it in the barn. You got any questions, I’ll be in the back with the horses.”

“Yes, sir.”

They hopped out of the Ford, and Jensen meandered away. It didn’t escape Merle that Jensen hadn’t mentioned a Mrs. Jensen. Only his daughter… his daughter who was graduating high school. Well, good for her.