Rest and Be Thankful (31 page)

“I’d like to have gone.” She looked at the mountains. “I’ll never ride into them now,” she said sadly.

He found himself saying awkwardly, “Well, we’ll see about getting you up there before you go back to New York.”

She smiled with delight. “That’s a promise.”

“Sure.” And how the hell had he got himself into this? “We’ll try and make it,” he added.

Something of the happiness in Mimi’s face was gone. “We’ll try and make it,” she agreed, keeping her voice as easy as his. Then she forced a smile and said, “See you in three days. Don’t get lost. There’s the rodeo on Saturday, you know.” And there was to be a dance afterwards.

“We’ll be back in good time,” he said. “Ned won’t let us forget that.” He touched his hat and walked towards his horse.

All right, she thought. All right, Mr. Brent. Damn you. She leaned her elbows on the hitching-rail and found the other men more interesting to look at. “I wanted to see the sunrise,” she told herself. “So I’m seeing it.” But there was a flush on her cheeks and a sharp brightness in her eyes, and the smile on her lips was too set.

“Don’t forget to come back for the dance at Sweetwater on Saturday,” Mimi called over to Grubbock and Koffing, and gave them a smile all for themselves.

“Technique,” Grubbock said in an undertone, as he finished strapping Koffing’s roll to the cantle. He glanced over at Brent, who had heard Mimi’s words. “That’s what they call technique, brother.” But it wasn’t as effective as what she had used five minutes ago. He wished that he had arrived a few seconds earlier with the slickers to see how that was done.

The men were mounted. Bert was leading the pack-horse. He waited until the others, short-reining their horses, had wheeled around to leave the corral.

“Save a dance for me too,” Ned called across to Mimi.

Grubbock leaned down from his horse to say to her softly, “Cheer up, honey. We’ll all be back to dance with you. Even Karl.” But he looked at Brent as he turned his horse professionally and rode over to the others.

I hope he falls and breaks his neck, she thought bitterly. Grubbock knew. Karl did too. How many of the others? She couldn’t tell. All she knew was that they liked her, each in his own way. But she felt none of the glow that always accompanied that feeling.

She smiled to them all in turn as they waved to her, giving Jim Brent no more, no less. But as she watched him ride alongside Bert, following Karl and Earl, with Ned and Robb in the lead, all her anger disappeared. She watched them take the trail to the mountains, the dust now rising in a small cloud under the horses’ hoofs.

“Always was a pretty sight,” Chuck said, as he came up with Jackson. They leaned their forearms on the hitching-rail, too. “Yes, a mighty pretty sight in the morning sun.”

“Better from horse,” Jackson said gloomily.

Chuck nodded, and spat in sympathy.

Mimi looked at Jackson in surprise. “Did you want to go too?”

At that moment Ned and Robb spurred their horses into a violent burst of speed and gave a high, ear-splitting whoop that echoed across the valley. Ned was standing in his stirrups. He waved his hat. “Strike for the hills; the dam is broke!” he yelled, and set his horse for the high ground.

“That’s Ned,” Chuck said. “Always playing up to a pretty face.” He grinned as he added, “They won’t keep up that pace for long. Seems to me they’re all playing up a bit this morning.”

Mimi felt better, somehow. She watched Bert and the pack-horse disappear over the hill. “Where do they go?” she asked, staring at the range of mountains.

“It’s like this,” Chuck said. He pushed back his hat on his head and took his clasp-knife slowly out of his pocket. He opened it methodically. Then he dropped on one knee, and drew a line in the loose earth with the point of the sharp blade. “That’s the mountains.” He made a small square to the east of them. “We’re here.” He traced a weaving line. “That’s Branch Creek, running down to join Crazy Creek in the valley. They’re following the trail over that hill to the draw, and that brings them to Branch Creek.” As he spoke in his slow, quiet way he traced each point as he named it. “Up above Branch Creek there’s Two Fork Gap. There they take the West Thumb, and cross it, about three miles up, at Lazy Way. They climb then, keeping Flashing Smile on their right. Climb for two thousand feet, maybe, up Black Rock Mountain. That gets them to Muledeer Pass. They start going down a ways, I reckon about five hundred feet. Boulder Trail, they call it. Then the ground levels out, and that’s the plateau they’re on. That’s where they start working. Park-land, and forests, and mountains all around. And not one human being to spoil the view between you and the next eighty miles.”

He rose stiffly, wiped off the blade on his blue jeans, and closed the knife with a snap. “There’s a good pot of coffee on the stove,” he said, looking away from the mountains, pulling his hat back into place over his eyes.

They walked over in silence to Cowpoke’s Corner. Just three of us who wanted to go, Mimi thought. “Is it so beautiful up there?” she asked.

Chuck poured, out the thick black coffee into three thick mugs, then carefully chose the one without any cracks or chips to give to her.

She thought, at first, that he hadn’t heard her question. Then at last he said, “Sure is.”

There was another silence. “Sure is,” Chuck repeated. “Prettier than the prettiest woman I ever saw.”

“Was that why you never got married, Chuck? No woman ever came up to the standards the mountains set?” She was half joking, but a new idea had taken hold of her mind. She looked through the open door at the mountains. A new kind of competitor, she thought. Well, I’ll take you on.

“Was married twice. Buried both of them,” Chuck said, and rolled a cigarette. “Got two sons and five grand-children,” he added proudly.

“Why—” Mimi looked at him in amazement. “I never thought you had been married, somehow.”

“Guess most men try it once. Bert had a wife over in Laramie, mighty nice woman. He buried her last spring. Ned’s been often as near married as don’t matter. Jim’s wife—well...” He was too busy licking the cigarette paper to finish that sentence.

“Jim?” Then, to save her confusion, she turned to Jackson. “And how many wives have you had, Jackson?” she asked quickly. He had been listening intently to Chuck, smiling when Chuck smiled, as if there were a sense of humour which men alone shared. Now Jackson’s broad face grew broader as his grin widened.

“No wives,” he said triumphantly.

“Guess he travelled around too fast,” Chuck suggested, and struck a match on his thigh. “Got away before they catched him every time.” This sent Jackson into a roar of laughter. “But,” Chuck went on, a smile coming into his eyes suddenly, “he’ll have to step kind of lively when he’s over to Sweetwater for a visit. Wouldn’t surprise me none if Wyoming don’t get her brand on him.”

“You seem to know how to keep him amused,” Mimi said to Chuck, smiling as she listened to Jackson’s deep laugh. Then she remembered the look on Jackson’s face as he had stood beside her at the corral and watched the others ride away. “Jackson,” she asked gently, “why didn’t you go with the boys today?”

Jackson’s dark eyes, under the heavy black eyebrows, said nothing at all.

“Was it because of us—the guests?”

Chuck said tactfully, “He has his reasons.” And that, his voice said, is enough. Don’t go bothering a man with questions and then complain of a truthful answer.

“Do you like it here, then?” Mimi persisted.

“Sure,” Jackson answered.

“Why?” That was a question which she had been asking herself, too, during these last three weeks. Her answer wasn’t altogether Jim Brent: there was something about this place... Perhaps if you loved New York’s skyscrapers you loved mountains. Prender Atherton Jones didn’t like mountains, but he didn’t like skyscrapers either.

But Jackson’s answer was something she had never expected. He looked at her as if deciding whether to speak frankly. Afterwards she was flattered that he had decided to tell her. He said, “In Paris, Rome, London, New York, I am servant. I open door for you. I pour coffee for you, give you cup on tray. Here I sit and drink coffee with you.”

She looked at Chuck. “I see,” she said. “And I agree with you. It makes life easier, somehow.” She tried to imagine a ranch where the cowboys were treated as servants, where men didn’t know their own value or recognise the dignity of others. It was impossible to imagine. It just couldn’t be. “It’s more pleasant for everyone,” she said. She wondered how she could now bring the conversation safely back to Jim Brent, but she had chopped it off and there was no joining it together again. And as she looked at Chuck she knew he wouldn’t talk about Jim and Jim’s wife. That too was what Jackson liked—the way these people measured their distance between people: they knew how far to come, how far not to go, and they expected the same from you. There was, behind their frankness, a line of respect drawn between friendliness and privacy.

She rose. “Thanks for the coffee, Chuck. Hope I wasn’t a nuisance coming up to the corral so early.” She tried to sound diffident, but she had already begun to worry about it. She should never have come to the corral this morning. She knew that now.

“Mighty nice thing to see a smiling face when you set out for the hills,” Chuck said.

And that was typical too, she thought, as she walked slowly towards Rest and be Thankful. There were a lot of answers Chuck could have given, and he had chosen the kindest. He knew why she was depressed, and he wasn’t going to add to her unhappiness.

He knew. Did everyone know? And she thought she had kept it secret. So that she wouldn’t look a fool if she didn’t win.

She halted, standing in the bright sunshine, frowning away her unexpected tears as she looked at the silent house sheltering behind the tall cottonwood-trees. What had happened to her, anyway? Something begun in fun, in a desire for conquest— something that had turned savagely earnest, bitterly real. Yes, people said, you know when it’s love, you know: there’s no mistaking the real thing. She had thought they lied. She had thought she had been in love, often. There were some men she had wanted to see; she had been happy when they admired her, sought her out, made love to her. For two months, or three— and once for almost five—she would persuade herself that this was what people must mean when they talked about love. This was all there was to it... And men, after a while, were all very much the same. They were the same, of a sameness that only was made different by the difference in their looks, by the colour of eyes and hair or the set of a chin or a tone of voice. And then...barely three weeks ago... Jim Brent hadn’t sought her out, he hadn’t made love to her, he hadn’t given her attention or presents or even an admiring look. Well, perhaps he had given her an admiring look, but only as he’d give
any
pretty girl an admiring look. Yet, when he walked towards her, or stood watching her as she talked, or looked at her with that half-smile in his eyes; when he rode beside her, or rode away from her as he had done this morning—well, she knew now. She couldn’t explain it. She just knew. And she couldn’t do anything about it. People had been right, and she had been wrong: there’s no mistaking the real thing.

She began to walk slowly towards Crazy Creek, avoiding the path through the yard where Mrs. Gunn would see her and welcome her in for a cup of coffee. Mrs. Gunn was too quick to notice...

Mimi reached the creek, by way of the field at the side of the garden, and followed its twisting bank. Her feet were soaked with the heavy dew clinging to each blade of thick green grass. It was cold in the hard black shadows of the trees. She was so unhappy that she was afraid. I’m in love, she thought, and I didn’t want it this way. I wanted it the simple, easy, happy way. Instead I don’t know even if he likes me. Yes, I do... He does like me. A little? Much? More than I think? He doesn’t dislike me... Then why doesn’t he fall in love with me? Why did this happen to me? This way? I’m in love for the first time in my life and I’ve never been so unhappy. Never, never. I’ve never been so confused and bewildered and afraid. I hate love. I hate it, hate it, hate it. “I
hate
it!” she said aloud.

“That sounds a bad way to begin a morning.” It was Robert O’Farlan’s voice. She looked round angrily. Her eyes searched the garden, the trees. Then she saw him. He was standing on the rough stones in the creek’s bed, where its waters had gradually receded with summer. The chokecherry bushes had hidden him, but he must have been there ever since she had left the field and reached the garden.

“Better come down here,” he said. “These stones are drier than the grass. You might as well have waded up the creek as through that dew.”

She glanced down at her sodden boots. “Oh,” she said, “it doesn’t matter.” But she scrambled down the short bank, through the chokecherry bushes laden with their rich clusters of bright red berries, and he gave her a hand and steadied her.

“Well, what do you see down here?” she asked, in control of herself once more. She looked round, smiled up at him, and shrugged her shoulders. “Do you make a habit of this?”

“It’s one way to spend the hour before breakfast,” he said. “I seem to waken at six whether I want to or not.” The sunlight broke through the leaves overhead, dappling the water and the stones. The wily trout was hiding in the shadows of a pool. He had meant to point out these things to Mimi, but now he didn’t want to. The robins had flown, anyway, as she came down the bank. There was only a bold magpie left, staring at them curiously, angrily.

“You
shouldn’t be looking worried,” Mimi said. “Now that you’ve got your book finished you’ve got what you wanted.”

He looked startled, tried to smile and failed. “Have I?” he asked. “Mimi, you look cold and peaked. We’ll go up to Ma Gunn’s kitchen and get a cup of coffee.”

“I feel more like a walk,” she said. “Will you come with me? I need someone to talk to.”

“What’s wrong?”

She looked at him quickly. He was studying her face. It was a habit he had when he thought she wasn’t looking. It had amused her secretly. But now it didn’t. Here was another man who could fall in love with her if she planned it that way. Now it only reminded her of a man who couldn’t or wouldn’t...