Elaine's smile was rueful. "I won't fight with Jennifer. Mother would kill me. I just told her we'd let Gran decide who got the lower bunk, and Jennifer couldn't argue with that."
"I'll bet she couldn't. I think she's scared of Gran," Annie said.
Tommy and Norman climbed into the back end of the Volvo. Stewart slammed the door.
"There's no seat belt," Norman whined. "Mama says I can't ride in a car without a seat belt."
"We're only goin' down to the big barn, dummy," Tommy said, with all the authority of his almost-thirteen years. "You don't need a seat belt for that."
"Do too."
"Do not!"
"That's enough, boys," Stewart said from the driver's seat. "Norman, we're not going to be driving fast and there's no traffic on this road. You'll be safe enough if you don't get rambunctious."
The argument from the back died into barely audible grumbles.
Annie hadn't been to the ranch since the first year of her marriage to Walter. She hadn't ridden a horse since then, either, and was not sure she remembered how. The dusty, musky smell of the horsebarn was familiar and welcome. A wave of nostalgia almost overcame her reluctance to make a fool of herself. When she saw the bowlegged, mustachioed wrangler, she felt almost like a kid again. "Charlie!" she exclaimed with delight.
"Hey there, Little Annie Oakley. 'Bout time you showed your face around here again."
"I'm almost ashamed to be here. You're going to think I've forgotten everything you ever taught me." For at least thirty years, Charley Jones had been teaching Blankenship kids to ride. During the summers when she had been going through her horse-crazy stage, Annie had followed him around like a little shadow. Now she wondered how she'd forgotten the man who'd enriched her childhood so much.
The children gathered around Charlie fell silent when he said, "Now, you oughta know that too much silly chitterin' makes the horses right skittish. And there ain't nothin' worse'n a skittish horse when you ain't a skilled rider."
Annie grinned at Hetty. Charlie's English was as good as theirs, but his cowboy voice was how he had charmed three generations of children.
The two little boys' eyes grew wide. "Will they buck?" Jeremy asked with a quaver.
"They could, if'n you get 'em excited," Charlie answered with a straight face. "Now, how many of you youngsters know how to put a saddle on?"
CeCe and Tommy stuck their hands into the air. After a short hesitation, so did Owen, but with less confidence.
"I'll oversee them" Uncle Ben said. "You go ahead and get the others matched up with their mounts. Owen, how much riding have you done?"
Annie didn't hear the boy's low-voiced reply because Charlie was saying, "Now Miz Thea gave me a list yesterday so I've got you grownups all matched up with your mounts. They're out in the corral."
"I hope he gave me a gentle horse," Annie whispered to Hetty. "It's been forever."
"It'll come back to you."
The horses were lined up at a hitch rail. Thea pointed to each as she read off the names. "Peter, bay gelding. His name is Socks. Kenna, you're on Sky, the blue roan. Annie, I've put you on Lady, since you've not ridden for a while."
She went on, but Annie didn't pay attention. She was too busy convincing herself that the long-legged pinto mare was friendly. What's wrong with me? I've never been afraid of a horse in my life. She approached Lady slowly, wishing she'd thought to bring an apple. A sugar cube. Anything to convince Lady she was a nice person. Idiot! With a deep breath, she took a last step and stood next to the mare. She reached out and touched a warm cheek, stroked. And fell in love as she'd done many times before, with many other horses, when Lady turned her head and butted a soft nose against her shoulder.
After they got to know each other, Annie decided she could probably saddle Lady. If I can lift the darn thing that high. Lady really was as long-legged as she'd seemed. Annie couldn't see over her back, even standing on tiptoe. She managed to get the bridle on correctly. Even if her head had forgotten, her fingers slipped, adjusted, and buckled as if they'd been doing it every single day.
Leaving Lady tied to the rail, she went into the tack room, where two dozen wooden saddlehorses stuck out from one wall. A card bearing a handwritten name was taped to the wall above each one. As she approached, Tommy was struggling to pull a saddle from one of the lower ones. Annie grabbed the horn.
"Thanks, Aunt Annie. I've got it now," the boy told her, once he'd gotten hold of it with both hands. His little arms looked far too spindly to lift such a weight, but his chin was set. She watched him out the door, smiling a little at how the stirrups dragged on either side of his legs. Calvin would have loved horses, she thought.
Oddly enough there was no pain. Only a gentle melancholy.
She managed to get Lady's saddle off the saddlehorse, but not gracefully. As she carried it outside, the stirrups dragged just as Tommy's had. Her arms were trembling by the time she stood beside Lady. There was no way on God's green earth she was going to lift that saddle to the mare's back. She set it down, about ready to give up.
No, I'm not going to. One way or another, I'll saddle this damned horse. She put the blanket in place, looked down at the saddle. Took a deep breath.
"Lemme give you a hand," Charlie said, hefting the saddle and tossing it atop the blanket. "You're so skinny, it probably weighs more than you do."
She smiled her thanks. "I can get it now," she told him. Hoping she was telling the truth. If Lady was one of those horses that swelled up, she might have a fight on her hands getting the cinch tight enough.
Fortunately Lady lived up to her name. When Annie gave a good tug on the saddle, it stayed in place instead of sliding to one side.
It took some doing, but eventually Annie managed to get one foot into a stirrup and to swing herself onto the horse's back. Lady stepped sideways. Without thinking, Annie pulled up on the reins and turned her to walking in a circle. Although Lady's ears still twitched occasionally, she behaved herself. Annie relaxed slightly. Perhaps she hadn't entirely forgotten.
She swung Lady into the line of nineteen riders heading east along a trail that meandered through open woods.
* * * *
Clay assumed the two little girls in the sandbox were part of Annie's family. He wondered where their mother was. Or some adult. Surely they weren't left out here unsupervised.
"I'm looking for Annie ," he said, as they stared at him with big, round eyes. He had found her note on the message board when he'd finally gotten there. He'd stayed at Abe's all morning, and it had been time well-spent. Afterward he'd gone back to his trailer and typed in everything he could recall of what Abe had told him. Words of wisdom, like the proverbial pearls beyond price. Besides, he liked the old fellow.
"Annie," the smaller girl said. It wasn't a question.
The other child was regarding him suspiciously, her mouth tightly shut.
"That's right. Annie," he agreed with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "Is she around anywhere?"
"The littler girl babbled something, but the only word Clay caught was 'horsey.'"
He frowned. "She went horseback riding?"
A wide grin. "Horsey."
The older girl frowned. "Go away," she said.
"Can I help you?"
With relief, Clay turned around, to face the woman whose expression was every bit as suspicious as the older girl's. "I'm looking for Annie. I was supposed to meet her earlier, but I had a flat."
The woman came to stand between him and the two little girls. "She didn't say anything to me." After a short pause, she said, "You'd better talk to Aunt Ce...to Mrs. Blankenship." Her gesture was vaguely in the direction of the long, low building across the lawn. "She's probably in the cookshack." Without another word, she snatched up the smaller girl and grabbed the hand of the larger and towed them away, around the corner of the house.
Good grief. I didn't think I looked like a monster. Clay admitted he knew little about children, but he'd always gotten along
with those belonging to his co-workers at the bank on the rare occasions he'd encountered them. No one had ever treated him like a potential molester before.
He pounded on the cookshack door. There were voices inside, but no one answered his knock. He tried again. Finally he heard footsteps approaching. A tall, darkly tanned older man pushed the door open and looked down at him.
"I was looking for Annie," Clay repeated. "The little girl said she'd gone riding. Do you know when she'll be back?"
"And you are?"
He was getting damned tired of being looked at with suspicion. "Clay Knight," he said, pulling the screen open before the other fellow could hold it closed. "Annie and I had talked of doing some fishing. I came to see when she'll be available."
"Fishing? I didn't know Annie fished."
"I don't know that she does. She said she'd like to learn." And she can damn well find someone else to teach her. He turned to go.
"Hold on. I didn't mean to chase you away. It's just that Annie--" He extended a hand. "Never mind. I'm Ward Blankenship, Annie's uncle."
Clay hesitated, then shook the other's hand. Something odd here. As if they're afraid for Annie.
Blankenship said, "They ought to be back soon. Care to wait?"
"No, I don't think so," Clay was aware of a twinge of disappointment. "Maybe I'll catch her later this afternoon."
"I'll tell her you came by." Again Ward looked Clay over. He nodded his head slightly. "She probably could meet you down at the park." His eyes sent a message that Clay was not sure he understood.
"I was going up to Box Canyon, but..." Just how much did he want to see Annie again, anyhow? About medium, he decided. Not enough to disrupt his day, but enough to adjust his plans a bit. "Look, I'll be parked at the fishing access, if she wants to find me there. Otherwise, if she wants to fish, it'll have to be Thursday. I've got business to take care of tomorrow."
As he turned to leave he remembered. "Oh, yeah. I found her some waders." He'd bought them after convincing himself that having assorted sizes of waders would be good business, once he opened Fly By Knight. "Tell Annie I'm looking forward to seeing her."
"Will do," Blankenship said, sounding a lot more friendly than he had at first.
Chapter Eleven
By the time they reached the ridge in the northeast corner of the ranch, Annie had decided her grandmother was a fiend, bent on eliminating all her unfit heirs. Or something equally evil and painful. Why else would she have ordered a bunch of city slickers onto horses and sent them out into the wilderness? But as soon as she looked around, she decided the scenery was worth the pain.
She'd forgotten how spectacular the view to the west was. The Floating Nought spread out below her, patches of forest interspersed with open meadows of lush grass just starting to go from bright spring green to summer's gold. Here and there grazed placid cows, their calves gamboling nearby or tucked under a maternal flank, skinny rumps in the air while they suckled.
Beyond the ranch, the highway carried its constant stream of traffic bound to or from Yellowstone. Nobody's said anything about going up to the park. I hope we do. North of the ranch, the little settlement of Last Chance looked like toy buildings set in a carpet of gray-green.
But it was the river that drew her eye. The river, winding silvery and bright, calling her while at the same time reminding her of what she had lost. What water had stolen from her.
Water! How ridiculous. The pond didn't reach out and grab him. It was my neglect that killed Calvin.
Why then, did she get this awful, sick feeling whenever she looked at any water bigger than a bathtub?
"Hey!"
She started, causing Lady to prance. "What?"
Hetty's horse had sidled up beside Lady. "I asked you if you're feeling saddle sore. I sure am."
"Oh, God, yes. I don't think there's any skin left on my thighs."
"It's my butt. I'll probably stand up for the next three days. That and sleep on my stomach."
"Wimps," Kristi jibed, as she walked her palomino mare to Annie's other side. "You're both out of shape."
"I am not," Hetty said. "My muscles are in fine tone. That doesn't stop them from bruising, or my skin from wearing thin."
"I am," Annie admitted, "but I'm working on it." She remembered the shin splints and aching chest after this morning's run. "I'm definitely working on it."
The three of them sat silently. As far as Annie was concerned, there was something restful about a landscape so lightly touched by development, so empty. Something healing. The heavy ache in her heart had grown lighter since she'd come here.
Only a little bit lighter, but anything at all was an improvement. She had grown so tired, so terribly tired, of hurting clear down to her very soul.
"Yellowstone is just over the hills there," she heard Charlie say. "And over there's the Tetons."
Annie, Hetty and Kristi walked their horses to join the children clustered around Charlie.
To the northeast, the wall of the ancient Yellowstone caldera rose steep and tree-clad up to meet a sky so blue it hurt the eyes. Closer and nearly bare of trees, jagged peaks emerged from lower, gentler hills, spearing through the slightly smoky air.
"I see them!" Charlene called out. "There!" All the children looked where she pointed.
"They're not as big as the mountains at home," Norman said.
"Are too," Jeremy said.
"Are not. Ours are really big mountains. These are just little bitty."
"These are a lot farther away," Uncle Ben said. "You live right up close to the mountains at home, Norman, so they look bigger. If you were that close to these, they'd look really big."
"But not as big as our mountains," Norman insisted.
"Well, actually, sweetie, I think they're bigger," Aunt Louisa said, "but it doesn't really matter, since we're here to look at the nice scenery, not to compare mountains."
"But Grandma--"
"Enough, Norman," Uncle Ben told him.
The boy fell silent, but glared fiercely at his younger cousin. Jeremy glared back and stuck out his tongue.
Charlie let them enjoy the scenery for a while before urging his horse forward. Annie swung Lady back into line, taking one last look across the valley, seeing the winding ribbon of river glinting in the bright sunlight. Much to her surprise, she was enjoying this, despite the aches and pains in a body unaccustomed to riding. Still, the river called her--a strange ambivalence, considering her gut reaction to running water. Did she wish she were there? In the river, standing next to a stocky man with warm brown eyes? Learning to fish? Yes, she did. Part of her wanted to be with Clay.
Party of her wanted to deny any such desire. She really didn't deserve to do anything that brought her pleasure.
Annie was still gazing at the river, when Lady gave a jump. Instinctively her legs grasped more firmly and she tightened the reins. The pinto mare hopped sideways.
"Here, Scout!" Owen's voice came from behind her.
Annie half turned, to see Owen's horse, the only other pinto in the string, nipping at Lady's haunches. Again Lady jumped, then kicked out with her back legs. Fortunately, Owen's mount was out of range.
"Hyah!" Charlie yelled. He shouldered his horse between the two, slapping at Owen's horse with the ends of his reins. "Move over there, you spotted bastard." He grabbed Scout's reins, jerked his head aside and forced him to move off the trail. Owen, who'd only been on a horse a few times before today, sat holding the saddle horn while Charlie led his horse farther back in the string.
Poor kid. I'll bet he's absolutely mortified, having Kristi see that. His ears were red.
"You okay, Annie?" Charlie asked as he came back beside her.
"Sure. No problem," Annie said, full of a real sense of accomplishment that she had been able to keep her seat while Lady threw her tantrum. She hadn't completely forgotten what Charlie had taught her, so long ago.
The last half mile of the trail was on the level, through an open stand of lodgepo
le and aspen. Even though she hated for the ride to end, Annie's muscles told her it was time. She wondered if she would be able to walk naturally when she dismounted. How could only two hours of riding make her so sore--she who had been used to spend an entire day on Scooter's back, exploring the trails in the Cascade foothills up in back of Uncle Ben's place?
It would be nice to get back to riding again. Just one more thing she'd given up because it hadn't fit into the life style she and Walter had lived. Maybe she shouldn't have run away, after-- No she'd done the right thing in moving to Boise. There had been too much in Portland to remind her. Of her failures. Of her losses.
* * * *
Annie hobbled to the cookshack with all the other horseback riders, thinking longingly of hot baths and shaded hammocks. She was hungry, really hungry, for the first time since she'd arrived at the ranch.
Uncle Ward came over and stood next to her while she was waiting in line for the sandwich makings. "You had a caller," he said quietly. "A fisherman."
"Fish-- Oh! He came looking for me? When? What did he say?"
"He's got some waders for you. He'll be down at the park fishing access about four." He almost sounded like he was asking a question.
"Yes, Uncle Ward, I am excited, and no, Uncle Ward, I have no intention of wading around in the river. He says he can teach me to fish from the bank."
"He didn't sound like that's what he had in mind." He tousled her hair. "Are you going to meet him?"
"I--I don't know."
"Well, if you decide to, let someone know. I'll cover for you if you're late for dinner."
She squeezed his hand. "I will. Thanks."
Most of the adults and all the kids gathered on the shady lawn north of the Big House after the late lunch. Annie joined them for a while, then went to the Pink House. She was still undecided about meeting Clay. What if he wouldn't teach her to fish from the bank? She liked him, wanted him to like her. Wouldn't he think she wasn't serious about learning to fish if she wouldn't climb into the river?
I could. It's not as if I can't swim. And it has nothing to do with...with Calvin. I just don't want to wade in the river. The very thought made her stomach churn.
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