Colorado High

by Joyce C. Ware

  “C’mon Jed,” Tessa said, “give us a break.”

  “No, give yourselves a break.” He looked sternly from one to the other. “Now, I want you to say you’re sorry, then hush up and enjoy this nice fire I made for you.” He waited for the exchange of reluctant, sheepish smiles, then rose, tossed another log onto the dwindling burning pile, and inhaled the fragrant smoke that curled out into the room. “I swear, I’ll take piñon pine smoke over pot any day.”

  Garland laughed. “What do you know about smoking pot. Uncle Jed?”

  “You’re forgetting I was at the university in the anything-goes sixties, young lady.”

  “I tried it,” she admitted. “A couple of times.

  I didn’t like the swimmy way it made me feel. I like being in control of myself, and,” she shrugged, “I wasn’t.”

  “Same with me,” Tessa said. “Well, it never came up before,” she added, seeing the astonishment in Jed and her daughter’s eyes. “Scott Shelby runs with a fast crowd. He stayed clean himself—he couldn’t afford not to—but some of the people I met back then ...” She shook her head. “Pot was the least of it. I know what you mean when you said you felt swimmy, Garland. It’s . . . well, scary.”

  “Exactly,” Garland said.

  Pleased to see his two favorite women back in tune with each other, Jed settled himself down again in the chair next to Tessa’s.

  “Speaking of piñon smoke,” Tessa said, “if you could bottle it, wouldn’t it be a terrific men’s fragrance? To give city guys the illusion of being outdoorsmen? These days the big-name designers— Bill Blass, Ralph Lauren, Calvin Klein—they all put out toiletries under their own names.”

  “Sheets and towels, too, according to a newspaper article I read a while back,” Jed said. “Anything they can turn a buck on.”

  Tessa ignored him. “What do you think. Garland? Might be worth mentioning to Scott . . . might even earn you a few brownie points.”

  “I don’t know about that. Mom,” Garland said slowly. “I think that could have been a great sideline for Wild Westerns, but Scott’s gone beyond that. He doesn’t much like to look back.”

  Jed was aware of Tessa stiffening beside him. “Well, there sure isn’t much he can do with that Water Babies line,” she said curtly. “I can’t see a cologne made from seaweed having much appeal.”

  “How about fish heads?” Jed suggested.

  Garland grinned at him. “Water Babies is old news, too,” she told her mother. “Scott’s working on a new line now—in fact, he’s using the Bluegrass Festival to promote it.”

  “Oh?” Tessa said. “What’s the theme?”

  “Wildflowers,” Garland replied. “He says he got the idea from the flowers he’s seen here in the San Juan mountains. They’ll be the line’s starting point, but before it runs its course it will include violets and lady slippers and trillium from New England; azaleas and jessamine from the south, and California poppies from the West Coast.”

  “Hmmmm-mm, not bad,” Tessa said. “What’s he calling it?”

  Garland stared down into her mug as if amazed to find it empty. “More coffee?” she asked. Without waiting for an answer, she busily set about filling the expected order.

  “Garland?” Tessa said when she returned with the coffeepot, “I asked you what Scott is calling his new line?”

  “I think that maybe he’s decided on Wildings, Mom.”

  “Why maybe?” Tessa said. “I think it’s great. “Flowers and wild things. Appeals to both sides of a woman’s nature. I wonder where—” Her eyes widened. “Now I get it. All this ‘I think’ and ‘maybe’ stuff ... it was your idea, wasn’t it?”

  Garland sighed. “Look, it’s no big deal, Mom. We were talking over lunch, and I just happened to mention—I don’t remember in what connection—that sociologists have given the name wildings to those gangs of homeless kids in places like Buenos Aires and Rio.” She shrugged. “Scott’s the one who clicked on it.”

  “Some click,” Jed murmured. “Vagrants to Vogue.”

  Tessa wasn’t listening. Her blue eyes narrowed speculatively. “Has he found a model yet?”

  “Please, Mom. I’m not the type, and anyway I look too much like you.”

  “No one remembers me, Garland—like you said, I’m yesterday news.” Jed detected an undertone of bitterness. “And what do you mean you’re not the type?”

  “I’m too healthy. These days the wan look is in, and you must admit that suits the wildflower image more than I do. Besides, Scott has already chosen a model. She’s a country-western singer with huge hungry eyes and a long way short of well-rounded.”

  “Sounds anorexic to me,” Tessa said. “Suppose she lands in the hospital and Scott needs a substitute? Would it kill you to go on a diet, just in case?” she persisted. “Do us both good. I’ll just cross some stuff off my list of staples . . . peanut butter, those shortbread cookies we both like, sardines— I’ve been buying them for the calcium, but considering the calories in those little suckers ...”

  Seeing Garland’s look of desperation, Jed could no longer contain himself. “Tessa, listen to yourself. You sound like a stage mother. Garland looks fine just as she is.”

  Tessa’s jaw tightened and lifted. “Butt out, Jed.”

  “The hell I will. Garland has obviously been seeing something of Shelby—on business I presume?” Garland nodded. “So by now we can assume she knows what the situation is and whether she wants to be further involved.”

  “ ‘We can assume,’ “ Tessa repeated in a sneering tone. “Garland doesn’t know what she wants—how can she? Sure, she’s smart, she’s got a 3.8 average after all, but she’s still a kid when it comes to the ways of the world. At her age, I was already married, remember?”

  Oh, yes, Jed thought, I remember. “What’s your point, Tessa?”

  “My point?” She grimaced and dug her hands through her hair. “She doesn’t even have a boyfriend, for God’s sake!”

  The expression Jed saw on Garland’s face over Tessa’s shoulder was a dead giveaway. She not only lunches with Scott Shelby but has a boyfriend Tessa doesn’t know about? Oh boy.

  “... I’m not trying to pressure you, darling,” Tessa was saying. “I just thought a little, you know, guidance? Look, I’m sorry if I came on too strong.”

  “That’s okay. Mom.” Garland’s smile was forced. “Gav always said he’d have better luck at teaching a muley-head steer to roll over than taming your maternal impulses.”

  “Steer, huh! He could’ve at least called me a cow!”

  Garland and Jed gave a shout of laughter. After a moment’s bewilderment, Tessa added her low, throaty chuckle. “Have you talked to your brother lately?” she asked. “Every time I call the number Gav gave me I get one of those damn machines.”

  “I got a letter from him last week but— “ Garland stopped short and caught her lower lip between her teeth. “He really didn’t have much to say.”

  “A letter? I got that jokey postcard from him, but I don’t recall any letters coming for you.”

  “He sent it to Telluride,” Garland admitted reluctantly. “Care of the Resort Association office.”

  “Why would Gav send you a letter that ‘didn’t have much to say’ to Telluride?” Tessa intercepted the look of appeal Garland sent Jed. Her hand shot out to circle her daughter’s wrist. “What is it I’m not supposed to know?” Wincing, Garland pulled away. “Jed? What’s going on here?”

  “I imagine,” he began slowly, “although I’m not sure, mind you—”

  “For God’s sake, Jed!” Tessa blurted. “I’m not asking you to predict the end of the world. Throw caution to the winds and get on with it!”

  “I imagine,” he repeated deliberately, “that Gav wrote Garland about the same matter he phoned to discuss with me.”

  “He called you instead of me?’ She thrust her head towards him; her lips thinned to an angry slash. “Of all the disloyal-- “

  “Calm down and let me fini
sh, damn it. If you do, you might understand.”

  Tessa slumped back and crossed her arms over her chest. “Try and make me.”

  “Well, it started with Lloyd calling Gavin, then Garland. I assume Gav wanted to compare notes with her, but he didn’t want to call home because he knew how you’d react.”

  “Compare notes?” Tessa repeated, “About what?”

  “About Lloyd’s offer to buy the land Barry left them.”

  “That bastard,” Tessa murmured. “That sneaky son-of-a-bitch!” she continued in a rising voice. “I told him that land wasn’t for sale. Especially not to him and that real estate creep he’s gotten so cozy with.”

  “You mean Terry Ballou?” Jed asked. “The guy Lloyd’s gone into partnership with to develop those acres of his up on the mesa?”

  “You got it. Knowing I was the twins’ guardian, Lloyd came to me first— you came in on the tail end of that conversation, Garland, remember? I thought I’d left no doubt in his mind—of course with someone like Lloyd, you have to practically hit him over the head with a brick before he realizes you mean what you say. He’s like that pit bull Barry had when we were kids, Jed.”

  “Old Gooch? Lord, I haven’t thought of him for years. Crazy dog. Garland. Never let go of anything without being knocked silly. I kind of liked him, though.”

  “Yeah, me too. I can’t say the same for Lloyd.”

  “That’s why he tried his luck with us, Mom,” Garland said. “He knows we’ll turn twenty-one next year. I guess he was hoping to sow the seed of temptation in soon-to-be-fertile ground. Can’t really blame him for trying.”

  “I can,” Tessa said. “I trust you turned him down.”

  “Of course we did! How could you think otherwise?”

  Tessa turned to Jed. “It’s easy enough to think all sorts of things if no one tells you anything.” Her voice was subdued. “These are my children, Jed. Surely you could have told me Gav phoned you.”

  Jed leaned forward to study the tips of his fingers. His eyes flicked up. “He asked me not to.”

  “ ‘He asked me not to,’ “ she mocked. “Is that the best defense you can come up with?”

  Jed straightened. “It’s not a defense, Tessa. I didn’t realize our relationship required one. That’s just the way it is between Gavin and me . . . and Garland, too. They trust me to keep my word, and I always do, even if sometimes I have my doubts about it.”

  “So you’ve had your doubts. Wow. Am I supposed to be grateful for that? I can’t help wondering what else you’ve kept from me. Considering the number of years that have come and gone since the twins were born, I imagine quite a lot. Didn’t it ever occur to you I might not agree with your judgment?”

  “I’m not about to give you an accounting of my actions, Tessa.”

  “Actions?” she cried. “That’s the trouble with you, Jed Bradburn! You don’t act, you just accept, sucking everything in like a ... a human vacuum cleaner.”

  “Mom! Please!”

  Heedless of her daughter’s anguish, Tessa swept on. “When Barry and I got married, you never said a word. Just suffered in silence, passive as a fence post.”

  Jed’s eyes narrowed to slits. “No moaning and groaning and—how does the Bible put it—no rending of garments? Is that it, Tessa? You always did enjoy playing Barry and me off against each other, and year after year we reacted pretty much as expected. You must have found it mighty entertaining. By the time we got to high school it had become a conditioned reflex: Barry’d jump in that old heap of his and roar through town, scaring dogs and missing old ladies by inches, and I— “

  “You’d go all broody,” Tessa cut in. “Like a hen in a chicken coop.”

  “When I was a kid, showing my anger earned me nothing but Pop’s belt across my backside.” They glared at each other. “As I remember it, the odds began shifting in my direction, when with no warning, whammo! ‘Didn’t anyone tell you, Jed?’ “ he said in a mincing falsetto. “ ‘Why, Tessa and Barry just up and eloped!’ “ Recalling the moment, he slowly shook his head.

  “The way I saw it,” he continued, “the game was over before I even had a chance to place my bet. If the situation had been reversed, Barry would have hurled the cards in your face . . . maybe even shot you. But me? I just evened up the deck, tucked it in my pocket, and walked out. Not much fun for you in that, I guess.”

  “Ran out, you mean! Back to Boulder and college without so much as a word.”

  Jed, who had gotten up to poke at the fire, peered back at her. “Is that what’s been eating you all these years? That I went on with my life?”

  “Some life,” she sneered. “Nursemaid to a zillion brainless Herefords and one cranky old man.”

  He turned. “Don’t know as I would have put it quite that way, but I guess, from your point of view, that about sums it up.” His sad, somber expression caused the challenge in her eyes to falter. “You know, Tessa, in those first few years, I spent a lot of time trying to figure out why you did what you did, but to tell the truth, I no longer give a damn.”

  Jed yawned, dusted off the pale flakes of strudel clinging to his long denim-clad thighs, and ambled across to the small bunk room always assigned him. He paused in the doorway. “Sorry you had to hear all that, Garland.”

  Tessa got up and walked quickly towards the closing door. “Jed? Look, I said things I shouldn’t . . . things I didn’t even— “ The door latch clicked quietly into place, “Jed?”

  It was too late.

  “Mom, how could you?” Garland murmured.

  Tessa couldn’t bear to meet her eyes. “Oh Jed,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry . . .”

  Chapter Eleven

  A bright scallop of sun had already flared above the highest peak when Tessa emerged, sleep-flushed and puffy-eyed, from the larger of the two bunk rooms. She sniffed the aroma of bacon and fresh-brewed coffee appreciatively.

  “Sorry I’m so late ... I had trouble getting to sleep.”

  Garland didn’t bother turning from the basin in which she had set dishes to soak. “I’m not surprised,” she muttered.

  Tessa arched her eyebrows. “Good morning to you, too, Miss Grumpy.” She yawned and surveyed the dim room, still redolent with the fragrance of piñon pine. “Where’s Jed? Out rounding up the horses? He always did like to get the jump on everyone.”

  “He left about an hour ago.”

  “Left? Without saying goodbye?”

  Garland slapped the dish sponge on the scarred wooden counter and faced her. “What did you expect. Mom? That he’d hang around so you could kick him some more?”

  “Hey, I admit I went a little far but . . . well, that’s the way it is with me and Jed. You’ve seen it before.

  “Not like last night I haven’t. Maybe if you could come up with a sensible answer . . .” Garland’s words trailed off uncertainly.

  “Answer to what?” Tessa prompted irritably.

  Garland took a deep breath. “Why you didn’t wait for him.” She ducked her head. Her unbound hair slid down to veil her face with gold. “Instead of, you know, marrying Daddy.”

  Tessa felt her insides clench. “Oh for God’s sake. Garland! There’s no single, simple answer to something like that. It has to do with a whole lot of things I don’t expect you to understand.”

  Garland picked up the sponge and began scrubbing furiously at the iron frypan. “I understand a lot more than you think,” she mumbled.

  “Speak up, Garland.”

  “It’s not important. Mom,” she said stiffly. “Which would you prefer, coffee or tea?”

  “Coffee, I guess. We’ve got a good eight hours in the saddle ahead of us, and I could sure do with an eye-opener. Is any of that bacon I smell left?”

  Seeing her mother’s wistful expression. Garland relented. “I cooked up the whole package. Enough for breakfast, and the rest for sandwiches I’ll make with what’s left of the bread.”

  “After I have toast.”

  “After that,�
� Garland agreed.

  Tessa fried an egg for herself, toasted two slices of bread over the two-burner gas grill, and poured herself a mug of coffee dark as sin. By the time Garland finished making the sandwiches and joined her at the roughly cobbled table with her own mug, she was feeling more ready to face the day.

  “I gather from what you said last night that you’re seeing something of Scott?”

  “Strictly on business. Mom.”

  “But with a little fun thrown in, right?”

  “Well, you know how he is.” Tessa grinned and nodded. “I swear, he can put a sensuous spin on just about anything. Take last week, when the posters for the Bluegrass Festival were delivered. Remember the singer I told you and Uncle Jed about?”

  “The waif with the big greedy eyes?”

  “Hungry, Mom. I don’t recall saying anything about greed.”

  “C’mon, honey. She’s young, probably ambitious, and she’s got a shot at hogging Scott Shelby’s very powerful spotlight.”

  “Okay, greedy,” Garland conceded. “Be that as it may, the poster photo makes her look more like a hooker than a folksinger, and when I took Scott to task about it— “

  “Did you really?” Tessa broke in, chortling. “I sure wish I’d been there.”

  “Well, Scott just laughed at me, sort of the way you did now, and told me that was his intention. He wants guys to want more than just hear her sing— “

  “It was the same with me. Garland. Of course I never sang anything . . .”

  “I should hope not, Mom. Not in public anyway.”

  “Smarty-pants,” Tessa said, thumbing her nose at her. “For Wild Westerns, what I did was ride around, usually very fast, looking wild.”

  “Figures. But to get back to the poster, the festival has a featured male singer, too. Now I’ve seen that guy up close, Mom, and the hunk look he’s got on the poster has nothing to do with reality—unless your notion of hunkiness includes guys with bellies swelling out over their belt buckles.”

  “That’s the way publicity works, Garland. Surely you knew that.”

  “Yeah, I guess. It’s different when you’re part of it, though.”