Yet he loved nothing more than the lovely, vibrant woman who worked every day beside him in the fields; showing the strength and fortitude of a seasoned rancher and the wide-eyed enthusiasm of a little girl.
Yet in his arms she remained a woman, making love with him long into the night as they fulfilled each and every fantasy that had carried them through their courtship. And when their passion finally culminated in the conception of a child, the couple celebrated both the success of their ranching venture and the expansion of their family.
“Everything was so perfect,” Cal remembered now, adding as he shook his head from side to side, “How did it go wrong?”
He’d near begged his wife to stay home and rest for the duration of her pregnancy; allowing him and his older brother Stephen to do the bulk of their farm work until well after the arrival of their child.
“Yet she knew that we couldn’t yet afford to hire farm hands. She also knew, furthermore, that my brother had his own ranch to run,” he recalled, adding as he ventured to take a deep sustaining breath, “So she insisted every day on comin’ to the fields with me, workin’ by my side in the heat of the Texas sun….”
He paused here, dark memories filling his psyche as he remembered their last day together; a 24-hour period that surely would haunt him until his dying day.
Elsa had appeared the picture of health in the early hours of the morning; her delicate face shining radiant with a warm maternal glow, her lustrous mane of heather blonde hair flying like a pennant in the Texas wind.
He’d never forget the vision of his lady walking toward him that day, clutching as she did a lush, fresh picked arrangement of golden Texas roses.
“I can’t believe the irony,” he released with a sigh, adding as his heart clung to her memory, “She looked just as she did on the day of our wedding, so young and beautiful, carrying her bouquet as she came to me.”
And then without warning their romantic dream morphed into a nightmare; his bride staggering before him as her breath escaped her and her eyes fluttered shut.
Although he’d carried her immediately back to their home and summoned the town doctor, Cal found that his desperate efforts to save his bride amounted to nothing. At the end of the day, all he could do was comfort his wife in his arms as she and their child passed from this life without so much as a word of goodbye.
Now he lived alone in the house that they built, just barely sleeping in their bed and working every day in the fields they had planted; coming to curse the roses she loved, as they only served to remind him of a joyful life destroyed.
His brother Stephen worked with him some days, and even stayed with him throughout just a few of his long, lonely nights; trying to distract him with poker games, horseshoe throws and other trivialities that he hoped would bring a smile to the face of his grief-stricken brother.
Finally, a frustrated Stephen suggested that his brother venture out of the house and try a new career; perhaps even pursuing his lifelong dream of a career in law enforcement.
“Before you met Elsa and decided to become a gentleman farmer, you had a dream to put on a silver badge and saddle up as the sheriff of this town,” he reminded his brother, adding as he punched his broad shoulder with a hard and hearty fist, “Elsa would want you to be happy, Cal. And she’d love the sight of you riding tall and proud through the city, keeping the peace and making a name for yourself.”
Reluctantly taking his brother’s advice, Cal rode into town one day and signed up to be a deputy at the local sheriff’s office; leaving Stephen to tend his ranch while he learned the particulars of law enforcement.
Although he did find some small measure of happiness and comfort in the day to day duties of his new job—a calling that allowed him to fulfill his boyhood dreams of keeping the peace and flashing a shiny badge—he also found that his newly honed law enforcement duties took him all too frequently away from his home and ranch. And while Stephen paid frequent visits to his fields, trying to maintain his brother’s rose gardens and other crops while also tending his own land, it soon became apparent that some extra hands were needed at Elsa’s Rose; the newly named ranch that Cal swore to make a success—if nothing else as a thriving and beautiful tribute to the rose of his life.
“Please don’t take offense Steve, you have really been my savior during some mighty rough days,” he told his brother one day. “I don’t think I could have survived the nightmare of Elsa’s death without you by my side, lifting me up and dang near cattle prodding me into going on with my life and work.” He paused here, adding with a frustrated sigh, “I just think that this ranch is getting too big for two people who have limited time to work the land. I do believe it’s high time that I hired, at least, one farm hand.”