by Anne Lovett
But—
She was already taking it down.
That’s a pretty old saddle, I said, and grabbed a towel to wipe it off. I wonder whose it was. Maybe Aunt Talley’s. Yeah, that’s it.
When Nimrod was finally tacked out, I mounted the big horse and stood in the stirrups, testing them. They were perfect.
Cyrus came into the yard from Lord knew where and stood looking at me for a minute. You be careful, now, Missy.
I will, I promised. I’d be back right after lunch and get the rest of the chores done, then have time to fix myself up for the daredevil.
The big horse responded at once to my knees and we were off. Lindy and I cantered off through the pecan grove and turned down a dirt road that skirted her parents’ farm, meandering a good five miles back into the country, the cool wind and warm sun bringing back the good feelings I’d had that morning.
Lindy looked at me. Race to the old oak tree?
Are you trying to kill me?
I just want to see what that big animal can do.
He can beat any horse around, but—
She didn’t reply, but took off, the chestnut’s flying hooves throwing up clods of dirt.
Nimrod strained at the bit, and, my heart in my throat, I let him have his head. His hoofs ate up the ground between Lindy and me, and I hung on for dear life, hunched like a jockey, my fingers clutching the base of his mane, the rest of it whipping my face. The huge, gnarled oak we used as our finish line was ahead, and I urged him on. He passed Belle, and we reached the tree two lengths ahead of her. I pulled him to a stop, my legs trembling.
Damn, Lindy said, laughing. At last you beat me.
You wanted to race, I said, giddy with relief.
Now we jump, she said.
I’ll watch you, I said.
She cocked one eyebrow at me and we doubled back to her house, a low, rambling, wooden ranch-style with a red roof. Lindy’s folks weren’t real farmers. They’d moved to the country so they could have room for their horses. Lindy’s father raised a few cattle, but buying and selling land was his real job.
The jumping course, built in the field to the left of her house, accommodated all heights and types of fences—split-rail and white board, adjustable, even a hedge with a ditch. I looked at it silently.
Lindy’s mother came out, greeted us, and told us to be careful. Lindy set the rails low and put Belle through her paces. You can do it, she said.
It did look like fun. Of course you can, she said.
She explained exactly what to do. I circled Nimrod around the ring and galloped toward the first low jump, and when we got close I leaned forward, shifting my weight. Almost before I knew it, Nimrod was in the air.
When he landed, my rear end landed hard on the back of the saddle. I gritted my teeth at the stab of pain, gripped with my knees, and slid forward. I was going to be sore, but I hadn’t fallen! I took him around again.
Now, let’s raise the rails, she said. We took another round, and by this time I was flying high.
Lindy’s mom came out and watched us for a time, and then she called us to lunch. She fed us sandwiches, chips, and iced tea. After we cleared the table, I saw Lindy’s mom with a load of clothes on the way to the washer.
Oh my gosh, I said, I’ve got to get back and do that laundry or Ava will have my tail.
Mae Lee, said Lindy, as we mounted our horses, why do you let her tell you what to do all the time?
I haven’t got a lot of choice, I said, looking up at the high thin wisps of clouds. A warmish wind ruffled the broomsedge in a field beyond. I’m kind of an orphan, you know. Where else could I go? An orphanage?
Quit being silly. You could stay with us.
They wouldn’t let me.
So make some noise. If you let people walk all over you all you’re going to get is footprints on your back.
I thought about that as we rode along. A mile along we ran into, of all people, Starrett Conable, on the old roan he kept at his grandpa’s place, and he was impressed to see I was on Nimrod. He told us his grandpa had a litter of beagle puppies and would we like to see them. Of course, Lindy squealed and said yes, and for some reason I decided I just had to see those puppies.
We followed him back to his grandpa’s place and played with the puppies, and his grandma made a big commotion over us and gave us some lemonade and fresh chocolate cake. Then wouldn’t you know, Glenn Dorris came driving up and had some cake, too, and of course I couldn’t leave then. We were all sitting out in the back yard having a good time when I finally noticed how low the sun had sunk.
What time is it? I asked.
Starrett yawned. Who cares?
See you guys later. I rushed over to where I’d tied Nimrod. I knew I shouldn’t have been so jittery around him, but I couldn’t help myself. Come on, Starrett, open the gate, I said.
What’s the rush?
Just help, okay?
Anything for my proud beauty. Lord, I wish I had my wicked way with you.
Oh, shut up.
When he opened the gate, I gave Nimrod his head. His hoofs pounding the packed dirt roads, we flew past scraggly roadside weeds. Plum bushes whipped my legs and dust stung my eyes. Flecks of foam flew from Nimrod’s mouth, and sweat lathered his flanks. We galloped through our gate full-tilt. I pulled back on the reins as we neared the barn, but Nimrod strained at the bit and kept going, heading toward the low hedge of the back yard. Barn cats leaped on fences in alarm, and the dogs in the pen began to bark.
Nimrod! Nimrod! The reins cut into my hands, I was pulling so hard. We were heading straight for the hedge. I spotted Duke standing on the back porch, watching in amazement, and I hunkered down, ready for the jump. Just then Elzuma’s frizzledy chicken flew out of the hedge in a great flurry of wings and Nimrod skidded to a stock-still stop. I went flying out of the saddle, and my foot went through the bare stirrup. I hung suspended, upside down, pain shooting through my ankle. Nimrod, terrified, took off in the opposite direction.
My head bumped once on the ground, and then the worn leather stirrup-strap broke. I landed with a thud, on my back. Duke ran toward me. “Mae Lee! Mae Lee!” Dazed, I tried to sit up. “Lie down!” he ordered. “Don’t move!”
I couldn’t speak, for the breath had been knocked out of me.
He knelt and gathered me up and carried me toward the house. I stole a look at him through my half-closed eyes, and it frightened me to see that he looked scared too.
My breath came back. I think I’m all right, really.
You little idiot. When I think of what could have happened . . . damn. This is all my fault, for asking you to take him. Where does it hurt?
The right side of my head was tender, and my ankle was beginning to throb. He took me inside, sat me in a kitchen chair, and propped my ankle up, then tied some ice in a towel and made me hold it where it hurt. He filled an ice bag and put it on the sore spot.
Then I saw the basket of laundry by the washing machine.
Duke, I said in a small voice, I was supposed to do that laundry. Please don’t tell Ava I went riding.
I’d better get you to a doctor, he said with a mixture of amusement and gruffness. To hell with the laundry.
But Ava will be back any minute, and your friend’s coming. Really, I don’t need a doctor.
I heard a noise on the back porch, and my heart flipped. Ava back already? But it was Elzuma. I seen that commotion, she said, opening the door. How is you, child? She came over and bent to see the swollen ankle. Mmm-mmm, she said, and shook her head.
What do you think, Elzuma? said Duke. She need a doctor?
Elzuma poked and prodded. She be all right, she finally said. You got some aspern?
Duke went to get the aspirin, and Elzuma eyed the laundry. She winked at me. Don’t you worry none, she said. She shuffled her old frame over and started stuffing clothes into the machine.
Duke dosed me with aspirin and ordered me to my room with the ice pack. I’d better go round u
p my horse, he said. I lay back on the pillow, tears in my eyes. Some way to meet the famous Jack. If they would let me out of the room at all.
My ankle was wrapped with an Ace bandage and my head had quit hurting by the time Ava came home. I was in the kitchen, sitting in the chair with my ankle on the table, folding towels and dishcloths.
She bustled in and clanked down a brown paper sack on the counter, and fixed me with a stare. You should have had that finished a long time ago, she said.
Duke brought in two more sacks from the car. I had some outdoor chores for her to do, he said, without a glance at me. She fell in the barn, mucking out stalls.
Fine, slipped in shit, Ava said. I thought Cyrus was supposed to do that.
Hey, you got a haircut, I said.
Oh, she said, touching it. You like it?
It looks like Elizabeth Taylor’s in that movie with Montgomery Clift where he pushes his wife in the lake.
That did not seem to bother her. I got up, put away the kitchen linens, and hobbled down the hall with the other clothes. Go lie down after you finish that, she said.
I’m all right, I said.
Then pitch in, she said.
I bathed as best as I was able and changed into a gray skirt and my best pink mohair sweater, the one that made my eyes look big. I couldn’t get my shoes on so I put on my bedroom slippers over my bobby socks. I was in the kitchen clinking ice out of the ice trays into the wedding-present silver ice bucket when Duke came in, ready for the evening in tweed jacket and tie. Even dressed up, he never looked as though indoors suited him, but tonight he looked really good. He arranged the liquor bottles on a rolling side table he used as a bar when company came.
How are you feeling?
Better. I’d be dead if it weren’t for you.
I had nothing to do with it. That damned old saddle saved you. I’m not going to even ask you why Nimrod thought he had to jump the hedge. I handed him the full ice bucket and got out the good glasses. Sit down, girl, he said.
All at once, the doorbell rang and Ava yelled at me from down the hall.
That’ll be Austin. Duke headed for the door and I crab-legged to Ava’s room to see what she wanted.
She waved a rumpled red silk blouse at me. Here, quick, iron this.
You have a closet full of clothes, Ava.
She cocked her head to one side. Somebody is not telling the truth about something, and I don’t like it. Now play nice and iron this blouse, because we’re taking him to the club tonight and this is perfect with my ruby earrings.
I listened to the voices in the hall. Not the time to pick a fight. I draped the red silk over my arm and turned back to the hallway. It would be so easy to scorch that silk. I eased toward the kitchen, but Duke heard my thumping shuffle. Mae Lee! Come and say hello.
I veered into the front hall, licking my lips from nervousness. And there Jack Austin was, in a black leather jacket, just as I had remembered him. His blond hair spilled over his tanned forehead, and his eyes were as blue as butterfly wings. When I’d been little, he’d seemed tall, but now I was as tall as he was, and he looked too young to have ever been in the war.
Here’s Mae Lee, Ava’s little sister, Duke said. He winked at me and turned to Jack. She’s almost as much of a damned daredevil as you are.
I held out my hand, and Jack gripped it with both of his, grinning. Hiya, Mae Lee. Jack Austin. His eyes traveled down to my wrapped ankle, taking in my figure at the same time. So what you been doing, gal?
Duke drew me to him with a brotherly arm. Acting like you, trying to jump a horse over a hedge.
It was the horse’s idea, I protested.
I stay away from horses, said Jack. Dangerous. Give me a parachute any day. I realized he was gazing at my sweater.
I’ve got to go, I said. Ava asked me to iron. I held up the red silk.
Ah, the famous Ava, Jack said. Can’t wait to meet her.
Maybe we’ll see her sometime this evening, Duke joked, punching Jack lightly on the shoulder. We might as well have a drink. We all trooped into the kitchen together.
They talked and laughed, opened bottles and poured Scotch, while I opened the ironing board and plugged in the iron. I finished the job as quickly as I could and hobbled down the hall to her room. My ankle was throbbing and pain shot though it with every step.
Ava, in skirt and lacy slip, was peering at her reflection in the dressing-table mirror, outlining her lips with a brush. She finished, pursed her lips, smiled, then with satisfaction, snapped the cap onto the brush. What the hell took you so long?
Silk’s not easy to iron without scorching, I said, laying the blouse carefully on the bed.
Ava took a rat-tail comb and fluffed out her new hairdo. What did you think of Jack? Is he cute?
What do you care? I said sulkily. You’re married.
She shot me a murderous glance. Hand me the rubies, would you? Second drawer of the chest.
Her elaborate Chinese jewelry chest of black lacquer and mother-of-pearl, painted with scenes of weeping willows and pagodas, sat on top of the dresser. I opened a tiny drawer and lifted the earrings from the golden silk lining. The ruby drops glowed like the heart of a pomegranate, like the last fire of sunset, like bloude-red wine. I remembered a line from a ballad from school, The king sits in Dumferline town, drinking the bloude-red wine. I gazed at the earrings, mesmerized.
Mae Lee, what the hell are you doing?
She snatched the earrings from my outstretched palm and poked the golden wires through the lobes of her ears. She smiled at her reflection, pleased at the effect of the rubies and the red silk blouse. She stood up, slipped into a black suit jacket, and walked out.
Her clothes littered the bedroom. Out of my habit of neatness, I picked up a rejected green dress and hung it in the closet, and winced as pain jolted my ankle. I sank to the dressing-table bench and picked up a jade necklace she’d carelessly left draped over her powder box. I stroked it. How cool and smooth it was, all polished swirling shades of green. I held it up to my throat.
We’re going, Mae Lee, Duke yelled. I rose from the bench, slid the necklace back into the jewelry box, and closed the drawer. I shuffled out into the front hall, where Duke was helping Ava into her fur coat. Jack, lighting up a smoke, shook out the match and looked at me in that way he had, like he knew what the joke was and wasn’t going to tell me. Mae Lee, he said. Wish you could go with us.
Oh, Jack, said Ava. Leave her alone.
He winked at me. I felt as hot and red as Ava’s blouse. I slumped to hide my bosoms, and glanced over at Duke, but he was looking at his watch.
Wait, said Ava, rummaging through her bag. I need to get my lipstick. She clicked back to her room.
Jack edged so close to me I smelled Old Spice and leather jacket. He said, glancing back toward the hall, Let me tell you, Mae Lee, over there, half the guys—hell, all the guys—were in love with Ava. That picture of her –
Hey, Austin, she doesn’t need to hear those old stories, Duke said.
Jack glanced over at Duke. One night somebody stole it. The picture, I mean. He didn’t come back, I hear.
A load of crap, as usual, Duke said. That guy was on the squad that demolished a bridge.
Ava appeared, smiling sweetly, with a black chiffon scarf draped over her head. Come on, flyboy, she said to Jack, taking his arm. We’ll show you a good time in the big city.
She took Duke’s arm as well. Jack turned back and winked at me and then the door closed.
I felt like I was soaring over those jumps again.
I picked up three apples out of the fruit bowl, hobble-danced my way out to the barn, and gave them to Nimrod and Francis and Dandy, my breath coming in frosty puffs, as if to remind me it was winter after all. The stars cartwheeled above, and the moon was like a big slice of honeydew melon. Love and homesickness was the trouble with me, and I had no home, and love seemed as far away as the Big Dipper.
I called Lindy, hoping she’d come over,
but she wasn’t there. We didn’t have a television set then. They still belonged to science fiction in our part of the country. I went through the pile of mail on the hall table again, in case I’d missed a letter from Mademoiselle, where I’d sent a couple of my poems.
Nothing was addressed to me. I took the rest of the mail, bills mostly, into Duke’s office and plopped them onto the scarred old desk.
I’d never spent much time there, and now I looked around. On the wall hung his diploma from Georgia Tech, pictures of Ava in a bathing suit at the pool and in evening gown when she’d been Miss Sawyer High, photos of his momma and daddy and Talley and the Colonel and their kids, and the big stuffed marlin he’d landed in the Keys. The shelves held trophies for track and football.
And then there was the trunk, where something awful was buried.
Maybe I should have gone back to my room and played solitaire for the rest of the evening, or listened to the radio, or read My Antonia for English class. I didn’t do any of those things. I looked in the top drawer of Duke’s desk, where I knew he kept a set of odd keys. They were still there. I tried them, one by one, until I found the one that opened the footlocker in the closet where he kept the things from the war. I lifted the lid.
A handgun—drab, not chrome like the ones Jimmy Cagney used in the movies—lay on top. Was that the awful thing? I lifted it out, carefully placed it on the floor, then took out a Bible with stains that looked like blood. I laid it aside. I found two tattered paperback novels, a photo album, and a small leather-bound diary. I caught my breath, recognizing it as the book I’d seen in Elzuma’s bungalow those years ago when Duke and Ava had been living there, the time when I’d been so sick and Chap had died. I hadn’t understood it then. I wondered if I’d understand it now.
I put the photo album and diary to one side and laid the Bible back in the trunk beside a pile of letters, stacked and tied with string. Was the letter I sent him in that pile?
I lifted the stack of letters to see, and found myself looking at a bayonet. I picked it up and turned it over in my hands, and it chilled me to see the Japanese characters, picture-words, stamped into the dull metal. I wondered if Duke had killed the soldier who had owned it.