The Untitled Story

Chapter 2

   It was true, like most rough necks Greg was a little stubborn. Born from a long line of ranchers he knew how to be stern. He knew how to make people feel uncomfortable and create a distance between them.

Something too, all the town of Gunner had stapled in their minds. It was rumored for many years that he was a killer of sorts. Truthfully, he only wanted what was best for his family, even if that would mean not letting anyone but the farm hands on the land. You could say Greg was protective by nature, although that was true, seemed too, more often it caused more headaches than anything else. For Aimee, if no one else.

Greg was a larger man even for someone who worked out on the ranch daily. It was the good cooking that Milly had provided for over twenty-five years of marriage. It could even be health related, but he was portly nonetheless, 5'10, not a huge beer drinker. Whisky was more his style when you thought about it.

See Greg wasn't one to run to the clinic for every little thing. Few years back he had slipped up repairing a tractor had a large open 4-inch wound, he grabbed a towel, walked to the barn, grabbed some fishing line and took care of it himself. Milly watched in awe as he made the 15 stitch marks up his left forearm.

"Don't you think we should go to the hospital? Milly pondered to him.

"Nope. Who needs 'em? See I can do it all right here and don't need of that medication they give neither." He grumbled, clearly in pain. That was just how he was. Nothing but simplicity for Greg, and that is just how he planned to keep his life, simple.

He wasn't very educated, dropping out in the 9th grade, he knew how to write and read but refused to open any other book besides the local paper. He wanted to know who was running for office, who they arrested and what meats went on sale of Sal's. Not too much more. Uneducated or not he had common sense. Something he often thought this generation lacked.

He had the know how to fix about anything. Most of the work he had done himself on his home, from wiring to plumbing. "I ain't paying someone else to mess with my home."

Greg was often reserved for being a landowner, as many were. Seemed more expected than not, at least in the small town of Gunner. He did not interview his farm hands to deeply other than to ask if they had any legal issues or drug problems. His glare was enough to make you answer truthfully the first time and if he had any suspicions, he could always call on Todd Hinky Gunners own local and retired sheriff. Having connections, he knew that much about himself, he could get to the bottom of anything.

Confidence is something he wore proudly. He always had though. He had as tough back and could get through anything he set his mind too. That was until Milly saw him when she was just fourteen.

Greg was a few years older than she was and always been him on Sunday mornings when she was out to brunch with her mother and aunt. He usually accompanied by three other men in age groups from 18-30, or so they looked. He was tall, with light brown hair and emerald-green eyes that could penetrate the soul.

According to Milly's account, they did just that. She watched him for 6 months before walking up to him with a mouth full of burger and asked for his name.

"Greg." He managed to mutter out with a mouth full of food.

"I am Milly, Milly Wilson" she smirked with a hint of sweetness and the sass of county. He nodded, trying to swallow his burger.

"You from around here?"

He nodded again, not giving her invasive questions any real thought.

"Me too, Gunner born and raised." Realizing she was quite the talker, he excused himself and walked out the door.

Milly being the brazen girl she was, now fifteen, hiked up her dress and followed him out the door.

"Greg!" she yelled.

He stopped, wiping his hands on his worn jeans.

"Yea?" he muttered back.

"Why would you walk about from a young lady who is trying to talk to you?"

He shrugged his shoulders.

Greg could see she was interested, as was he. Never having too much interaction with females other than his sister and mother, his confidence was not as high as he thought. The rest is history. They courted for 6 months before he asked her to marry him under the live oak tree on her father's lawn. 6 months later 17-year-old Milly Wilson was Mrs. Milly Polanski.

After years of trials and failures, she became pregnant with little Aimee. Six pounds 9 ounces of bliss, they knew then she was the only child for them. She was. They decided after trying for so many years to try again was not worth the effort.

Of course, they knew they would be in their mid-50's by the time she graduated high school. Greg felt complete, he knew Milly did too. He watched her settle into motherhood with natural grace, feeling content, he knew he would do anything to protect his daughter. Anything.