TEN SECONDS LEFT IN THE GAME, REFEREES CALLED THIRD down on San Francisco’s forty-yard line. The fans went wild in the stands.
Gil knew their only chance was a Hail Mary.
A high-risk pass, but if it succeeded, it would mean victory.
In swift succession, he called the play and lined up behind the center. As soon as Gil felt the snap, he gripped the ball and lunged back. Seconds later, he released it into the air with as much force as he could muster, praying Charlie or one of the other receivers would sneak behind the defense. His opponents knocked him down, the air stolen from his lungs one last time. Despite the pain, he struggled to watch the play unfold.
The leather ball flew sixty yards as though in slow motion and descended near the end zone where his wide receiver was headed. With cat-like agility, Charlie leapt into the air and caught the pass as though he had glue on his fingers. The game was theirs.
In the next instant, Gil heard the roar of the Green Bay crowd and knew something had gone wrong. Charlie must not have been able to keep his hold on the football. Gil closed his eyes and toppled back onto the field in misery.
It was over.
THREE
JOHN MCCRAY’S HOUSEKEEPER GREETED MATTIE AT THE RANCH house the next morning and led her down the hallway to John’s room. Mattie knocked lightly on the wooden door, which opened at her touch. A beam of sunshine streamed in from a slit in the dark drapes, illuminating the frail gentleman propped on an oversized pillow and lying on what he affectionately called his “deathbed.” She stifled a giggle. John McCray was far from dead.
“My boy’s team lost. Twenty-one to fifteen.” He threw his copy of the Wichita Beacon onto the covers. “Too bad about that final pass.”
Mattie already heard from her employees how the winning team had pummeled Gil’s receiver, knocking the ball loose and costing the 49ers the win. “Is this how it is now that you’re home from the hospital? You stay in bed all day?” She strode to the window and pulled back the heavy curtains.
“I don’t need another sassy woman telling me what to do. Mildred’s always trying to make me eat those counterfeit eggs. Says I need to lower my cholesterol.”
“You’d better watch how you talk about your hired help. If you lost Mildred, you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself.” Mattie moved to his bedside and handed him his flannel robe. “Let’s go out on the veranda. It’s a beautiful morning, even if it is the thick of winter. I heard on the radio that it’s already fifty-six degrees.” She held onto his arm and helped him from the bed. “If that doesn’t entice you, I brought you some of Clara’s apple muffins.”
His mouth opened in surprise. “You didn’t bake them yourself?”
“Nope, I’ve been too busy with that horse of yours. You’ll have to settle for these.” She held a white paper sack in the air. “I have Clara’s word they’re made with real eggs.”
Mattie ignored the man’s grumble and escorted him to the veranda. When he’d settled into a chair, she placed an afghan across his lap and took a seat beside him at the wrought iron table. She loved the atmosphere of the Lightning M Ranch with its large native limestone house and seven thousand acres of prime grassland. The daughter of a cattleman, she’d grown up on a ranch not far from here and couldn’t imagine living anywhere but in the Flint Hills. Of course, she lived in town now, but someday . . .
“I wanted to talk to you about Dusty.” She waited as Mildred brought out a tray for breakfast, her yellow apron fluttering in the morning air. The older woman set two plates before them filled with waffles, bacon, and scrambled eggs, along with orange juice and a thermos of coffee.
“Thank you, Mildred.” Mattie smiled at the devoted employee.
John didn’t offer his thanks, his face as sour as ever. “I suppose this is some of that fake turkey bacon you like to give me. What’s wrong with feeding a man real eggs and meat from a hog? I’d give anything to sink my teeth into a piece of real fried bacon, cooked in its own grease.”
Mildred squeezed Mattie’s shoulder. “It’s a pleasure to cook for someone who appreciates my efforts.” The woman wrinkled her nose at her employer, who shuffled his eggs to the edge of his plate,