Colorado High

by Joyce C. Ware

  Jed watched the old man spin his chair around and roll himself out of the kitchen and down the hall. Thank God he decided to go to his room, Jed thought. Without an afternoon snooze, he’d be hell on wheels by five.

  Hell on wheels.

  Jed gave an ironic bark of laughter as the phrase’s peculiar aptness to his adoptive father’s situation struck him. He glanced at the clock. Two o’clock already. There’d be hell to pay if he didn’t check to see if the heavier gauge fencing he’d ordered had been delivered. That damn Beefalo bull had already reduced one pen to shambles, thanks to the new hand thinking he knew all there was to know about wire versus an ornery two-ton animal.

  But being the kind of man he was, Jed blamed himself for not supervising the kid more closely. Cottonwood sure doesn’t need another Barry Wagner-type tragedy.

  Just before five, Jed took the promised drink to his father in the living room before returning to the kitchen to put in a call to Gavin.

  “Gavin? Everything okay?”

  “Sure is, Uncle Jed. Thanks for calling back.”

  “Your mom told me about your summer job—sounds like fun.”

  Gavin laughed. “I wouldn’t call it fun exactly— I’ve been working my tail off. Instructive, though. The guy who hired me is great . . . expects a lot of me, but always takes the time to explain why it’s important. I guess you could call him a mentor. It’s kind of nice being treated like a fair-haired boy.”

  Gavin’s voice, although cool and controlled as always, held a note of pride.

  “You were always fair-haired with me, Gav . . . well, most of the time, anyway.”

  “I know that, Uncle Jed. That’s why I’m calling you. I wanted to ask your opinion.”

  “Seems to me, up there in big gun territory, you could get an opinion a lot more worth considering than mine.”

  “Not in this case. Uncle Lloyd called me yesterday. All bluster and a lot of stuff about blood being thicker than water . . . you know how he is. Well, these days the blood’s running real thick apparently.”

  “How’s that, Gav?”

  “He’d like me to talk Mom into selling the part of the Wagner ranch she’s holding in trust for me and Garland. Went on and on about it not being worth anything as grazing land. As if I didn’t know, for God’s sake! He wouldn’t like to see Barry’s kids wanting for anything— that’s a direct quote— so he’s ready to offer us more than a fair price for it. Pure, unadulterated bullshit. In the first place, this is the first time he’s ever acknowledged his brother might have sired us, and in the second place— “

  “He wants to develop it, along with Terry Ballou.”

  “You already know about this?”

  “It’s one of Cottonwood’s more widely known secrets.”

  “Do you know if Uncle Lloyd’s talked to Garland?”

  “I suspect he knew that wouldn’t work. Your sister is the least material-minded person I know.”

  “You’re right about that,” Gavin agreed. He chuckled ruefully. “Not me, though, huh?”

  “You’re not as attached to the land here as she is.”

  “You’re hedging, Uncle Jed.”

  Jed’s reply was edged. “Don’t sell yourself short, Gavin!”

  “If I do, it was my daddy who put the idea in my head. Straight from the horse’s mouth, you might say.”

  “Horse’s ass is more like it,” Jed muttered.

  Gavin’s shout of laughter made Jed pull the receiver away from his ear. “So, what you’re saying is I should hang in for the long haul?”

  “In a year you and Garland will be twenty-one ... if that’s what you interpret the long haul to be, then yes. You can’t beat the view from that land, and these days a good view is money in the bank. Barring some worldwide catastrophe, its value can only go up.”

  “That’s what I figured, Uncle Jed.”

  “Smartass kid,” Jed said fondly. “If you know so much, why’d you bother calling me?”

  “Because, like I said, I value your opinion.”

  “Well, I thank you for that,” Jed said gruffly.

  “Tell Mom I said hello.”

  “Call and tell her yourself . . . but you needn’t mention our conversation, okay?”

  “Oh? Why’s that?”

  “I don’t want Tessa to think I’m interfering in a family matter.”

  “But you are family!”

  “Gavin, please.”

  “Okay, if that’s the way you want it.”

  Jed, hearing the hurt in his voice, closed his eyes. “Good to hear your voice, Gav. Will I be seeing you this summer?”

  “You’ll be the first to know.”

  “After Garland, I bet.”

  “Oh, well, Garland.” The smile was back in his voice. “Look after her for me, will ya?”

  Jed agreed that he would, but after he hung up, he had a sudden vision of Garland, fleeing through the streets of Telluride, long legs flashing, blond hair flying, beset by sleek and savvy wolves of the species californicus.

  I’ll do the best I can.

  Chapter Seven

  Tessa pulled her pickup into the parking area adjacent to the big meadow that Telluride’s town fathers had reserved in the laid-back sixties for use by its citizens.

  At the time, when the valley’s haze owed as much to marijuana as wood smoke, little more than informal gatherings of gently stoned guitar-strumming locals and their frisbie-chasing dogs had been anticipated. But the hippies were soon driven out by the tourist interests attracted by entrepreneur Joe Zoline’s “winter recreation area second to none,” and the summer season of festivals brought in headliners and leash laws.

  “The park looks almost like I remember it,” Tessa remarked to her daughter as they prepared to back their horses out of the trailer.

  “Yeah, I imagine it does,” Garland said. “Ordinarily, we’d be blasted out by now.”

  “Really?” Tessa murmured distractedly. She clucked reassuringly to the big Appaloosa mincing backwards down the ramp. “Why’s that?”

  “Most weekends, Saturday mornings are given over to setting up stages and testing sound systems and crews yelling back and forth. Today the loudest sound is laughter.”

  The wide sunny expanse was dotted with strolling couples. A group of young kite flyers played out paper eagles and bright dragons that alternately soared and swooped above their families watching from blankets crowded with picnic paraphernalia. Beyond, a fisherman wading the shallows of the river that defined the park’s northern border sent a long lazy cast into the sparkling riffles.

  Garland smiled at her mother. “The usual weekend rumpus is, like, exciting, but this . . . well, it’s kinda nice for a change.”

  Tessa returned Garland’s smile, but she was secretly disappointed. Would a quiet family day like this bring Scott Shelby into town? Not the Scott Shelby she remembered. Twenty years . . .

  “I still wished you’d worn my Wild Westerns gear, Garland.”

  “C’mon, Mom. I’d’ve looked like something out of one of those old cowboy movies.”

  Tessa turned to face her daughter. “What’s wrong with that?”

  Garland laughed. “You should see your expression, Mom. You keep forgetting I only look like you. I wish I had your get up and go, but I don’t—“ she shrugged— “and I never will.”

  Tessa’s face softened. Dear Garland. Beautiful as the sunrise; sweet as mountain rain. “What you have is better, darling.”

  Garland eyed her warily. “Which is?”

  “A level head . . . and the sauciest ass in Colorado,” she added, reaching out to slap at the rear of Garland’s well-filled jeans.

  “Mom! You’re scaring the horses.” Garland protested as the Appaloosa snorted and pulled back on the lead rope. After calming him, she stole a look at herself down over her shoulder. “You really think so?”

  “Well, on the western slope anyway.”

  “Oh, you!” Mother and daughter grinned at each other. Garland stro
ked the arched glossy neck of the Appaloosa. “Why’d you want to bring this guy, Mom? He’s practically shooting off sparks already.”

  “Zeus’s owner is a local dignitary down Durango way. He wanted a flashy horse to ride in parades, and this keg of dynamite is what he came up with. Expects me to turn him into Mary’s little lamb. Fat chance! But when he told me the fee he was prepared to pay, my better judgment took a hike. Actually, he’s already improved some. First time I took him through downtown Ouray he got so lathered he looked like he’d been sprayed with shaving cream.”

  “Well, he’ll sure liven things up on Telluride’s main street today.”

  Tessa, unwilling to admit that was her primary reason for bringing Zeus, busied herself with backing his well-behaved quarter horse companion, Sunset, out of the trailer. Although Garland’s chestnut mare was the better horse, Tessa was well aware that most eyes, including Scott Shelby’s, would be drawn first to the prancing white-spotted rump of the big gelding and the tawny-haired woman astride him in the silver-mounted saddle.

  She tightened the cinch and swung herself up, unfazed by the big horse’s wily attempt to pirouette himself away from under her. “Cut it out, Zeus!” Tessa remonstrated.

  Sunset twitched her ears at the gelding’s goings-on, but stood foursquare as her mistress mounted. Garland’s easy seat in the custom-made saddle—Uncle Jed’s sixteenth-birthday companion gift for the horse her mother had bred and trained--belied her equestrian expertise. In fact, Tessa suspected that if their ribbons were counted up, her lead over her much less competitive daughter might be slimmer than she cared to acknowledge.

  The women rode down Pacific and turned up Pine Street, with Zeus dancing a dozen steps for every one of Sunset’s. By the time they reached the main drag on Colorado Avenue, each pumping action of the gelding’s high-stepping legs was accompanied by a loud snort from his distended nostrils. As they rounded the corner, a pigtailed child bouncing up the sidewalk past the Floradora Saloon grabbed at her father’s denim jacket and pointed.

  “Ooohhh, Daddy! Isn’t that the most beautifullest horse you ever saw?”

  Grinning, Tessa swept her fawn Stetson from her head in acknowledgement of the compliment. Zeus, spooked by her gesture, tossed his head and sidestepped closer to the curb.

  The father pulled his daughter back. “Hey, lady! Watch that horse!”

  “Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea. Mom,” Garland muttered.

  But Tessa wasn’t listening. Tourists alerted by the little girl’s shrill voice, turned from shop windows displaying climbing gear and native American crafts to watch them pass. A clutch of burly college-age boys elbowed each other aside for a closer look. “Ride ‘em, cowgirls!” one of them hooted through cupped hands. Welcoming the distraction, drivers of cars slowed by the noontime traffic smiled and waved. A black dog lumbered growling out of an awning’s shade. A bicycle bell jingled a greeting.

  Ahead, just past the New Sheridan Hotel, Tessa spied a bright gold head bobbing among a male trio emerging laughing from the San Miguel County Courthouse. The shape of it seemed familiar, and that brush cut . . .

  “Whoa there, Zeus,” she murmured, as she gently tightened the reins. “That’s a good boy.”

  Garland rode up beside them. “What’s up, Mom?”

  Tessa didn’t answer. Slowed almost to a halt, Zeus tossed his head against the bite of the bit.

  “Tessa? Tessa Wagner?”

  Tessa released the breath she was holding and arranged her expression into one of pleased surprise. Turning in the saddle, she looked down into Scott Shelby’s face. His skin, still youthfully taut, was evenly tanned. Not one of those old hat, worked-at George Hamilton tans, but just enough to lend an outdoorsy glow, even if it was acquired in a salon.

  “Hey there, Scott. I heard you were back. Sure has been a while.”

  Jeannie was right. He still looked fabulous. Trim as ever, easy moving as a good horse. Bet he has one of those personal trainers, Tessa thought. She eyed the lines of his coarse-woven indigo blue linen jacket, pegging its price at roughly six week’s worth of her supermarket tabs.

  “Sure has, Tessie.” Tessie. Scott was the only person who ever called her that. “But I’m not living at the Cottonwood ranch anymore; in fact we’ve just come from filing the deed for the new place I bought up here . . .” He broke off; his sherry-colored eyes shifted from Tessa to Garland and back again. “My God,” he murmured. “Deja vu.”

  “I’m sorry . . . I’m forgetting my manners,” Tessa said with an apologetic smile. “This is my daughter Garland. Garland? You remember me talking about Scott Shelby? The Wild Westerns guy?”

  Garland gave her mother a disbelieving look. “Yeah, I think maybe I do,” she remarked dryly. She leaned down to shake the hand reached up to her. Scott held it a bit too long, but his sudden smile was so mesmerizing neither of the women noticed.

  There was no doubt about it, Tessa granted. Scott still exuded that lowdown charm, that straight-to-the-point sex appeal that made affection and love seem like female foibles. She wondered how she had managed to resist it.

  “Garland is working here in Telluride this summer, Scott. With the Chamber Resort Association.”

  “Are you, now? Then you must be aware that Shelby Associates is the chief sponsor for this year’s Bluegrass Festival.”

  “Well, no, I just started and— “

  “I have some new ideas . . . maybe we could get together, discuss them over drinks?”

  “I really don’t think I’m the right person for-- “

  “I’ll call you, luv. He turned his intense regard back to Tessa. “We were just going to the New Sheridan for lunch to celebrate my new acquisition. Why don’t you join us?”

  “It’s not as easy to park a horse as it is a car,” Tessa demurred. “Rain check maybe?”

  “No maybe about it. I’m having a house-warming in a fortnight, Tessie; I’ve been feeling something was missing . . . now I know what it is. Please say you’ll come.”

  “Fortnight?” Tessa repeated uncertainly.

  “Two weeks, luv. From today. Sevenish?”

  My God, Tessa thought. It sure has been a long time since I heard that kind of talk.

  In Cottonwood, if anyone came for dinner at all, they arrived at five for beer and pretzels, expected to sit down at six, and were gone by eight-thirty in time to catch the nine o’clock movie on cable. Tessa suspected that Scott Shelby’s housewarming would rival any made-for-TV production. Probably have a better cast, too, considering how many Hollywood types were renting boxes in the Telluride Post Office these days.

  “Yeah, I’d like that, Scott. Could you send me directions? Everything’s changed so much up here.”

  “I’ll leave them with your daughter at the Chamber Association. You’re included in the invitation, of course,” he added, turning his high-wattage smile back on Garland. “And your father, too. I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten his— “

  “Barry died two years ago,” Tessa stated flatly.

  “Oh. I didn’t know.” He didn’t bother to say he was sorry; no reason he should be. “Oh, Tessie, you don’t by any chance . . . could you possibly still have the outfit I designed for that first big promotion?” He turned to his companions. “You’re probably too young to remember, but she just blazed out of those ads like a golden skyrocket—” he slanted an admiring smile at her— “and took me up along with her.”

  Except I came back down to earth a long time ago, Tessa thought sourly. “What about it?” she asked.

  “I thought maybe you could wear it at the housewarming.” He held up his hand and drew his fingers across the space between them. “Then and now!” he pronounced.

  He always did go in for dramatic emphasis, Tessa mused. She sneaked a speaking glance at Garland. You? Garland’s blink was emphatic. No way, Mom!

  “ ‘Fraid not, Scott,” Tessa fibbed.

  “No?” He seemed surprised, disconcerted, and a little hurt. He had expected her to
preserve it, she realized.

  “Those years ... that time in my life . . . they’re long gone. I’m not sure it’s healthy, holding on to things like that.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” He sighed, then his expression gradually brightened. “Yes, of course you’re right! It’s not only unhealthy, it’s tacky.” He shook his head slowly. “God. I can’t believe I suggested it.”

  He reached out to stroke Zeus’s arched neck. She saw he still wore the handsome antique signet ring she had noticed at their first meeting— until then, the only rings worn by the men she knew were wedding bands. “Just proves how much I’ve missed you, Tessie,” he murmured. “We had great times, didn’t we? And we’ll have more, you’ll see!”

  He threw back his head to blow a kiss at her, his brush-cut gleaming like gold in the midday blast of sun. He plucked a pair of sunglasses out of his breast pocket and slipped them on. Robbed of the intensity of his hazel eyes, his face seemed suddenly older.

  Tessa blew him a return kiss—”Two weeks, Scott!”—and wheeled Zeus in a tight circle.

  “Yeah. Whoop-te-do,” Garland muttered as she urged Sunset to follow suit.

  “What’s your problem. Garland?” Tessa demanded.

  “It’s just that . . . well, I grant you he’s a real attractive guy, but can you imagine anyone in Cottonwood saying ‘sevenish’ or blowing kisses?”

  “No, but then I can’t imagine Scott calling folks assholes or spitting in public. It won’t hurt you to look at his world with an open mind, Garland. You might learn something.” She gave her daughter a sharp look. “You might even gain something.”

  “Like what? Becoming a veterinarian to the stars someday?”

  Tessa pulled Zeus up. “Have you taken a look at yourself in the mirror lately? I mean really looked?”

  “Haven’t the time. Mom. Besides, what’s the point? Animals don’t care what I look like . . . the people I care about don’t either.”

  “For God’s sake. Garland! Caring has nothing to do with what I’m talking about.” Provoked by Tessa’s snappish tone, Zeus snorted and sidestepped.