The Brushstroke Legacy (11 page)

So much for the old adage that truck stops always served good food. The food this one served was fast and basic with the smell of diesel
fumes wafting in every time the front door opened. Ragni paid their bill, wishing they’d gone somewhere else.

Back in the car, she had trouble finding the home and garden store, even though she’d asked for directions. Erika had reverted to her iPod and earphones.

“Are you coming in with me?” Ragni asked when they’d finally arrived at the parking lot. She tapped Erika on the arm before repeating her question.

“Whatever.”

“I’ll be a while.” Ragni was prompted to think about never leaving small children in a car, but that didn’t exactly apply in this case. “Keep the doors locked.”

“Oh, for…” Erika pushed open the door and grumbled her way out. “You think someone’s going to kidnap me in the middle of the day in Dickinson?” Her tone made clear what she thought of the town.

“And this morning, who was it who thought burglars would steal our things from the cabin?” The corner of Ragni’s mouth rose slightly. “Give it a rest. I’m not used to this mother gig.”

“Mom lets me stay in the car.”

“So I’m not your mom and we have errands to run. You could help me pick things out.”

“I’m coming. I’m coming.” She rolled her eyes and mumbled something else, but Ragni ignored it.

By the end of two weeks, I’ll be a master at ignoring things. Teen things, that is. I’ve had plenty of practice so far.

By four thirty they’d made their purchases and were heading out.

“You want ice cream? I figure we earned a reward.”

“Where?”

“I saw an ice-cream shop as we came in. It won’t spoil your dinner now, will it?”

“Puh-leese.”

Ha. This time it was my turn to push a button.
She slung an arm around Erika’s shoulders. “Just kidding.”

Ice-cream cones in hand, they headed back to the car and the trip west. Ragni checked the time. “We’re not going to have time to go back to the cabin and unload this stuff before we need to be at Paul’s.”

“So?”

“So I’m wishing I’d bought something as a hostess gift.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. At home I’d have made hors d’oeuvres or bought a bottle of wine.”

“They sell wine here.”

“But I have no idea if he drinks wine.”

“We could stop at a bakery and bring a loaf of bread or something.”

“If we had any idea where a bakery…”

“Or cheese and crackers. That’s what Mom takes. Some kind of gross cheese and a box of fancy crackers.”

Seeing one of the chain grocery stores up ahead, Ragni hit her signal and turned in. “Thanks, kid.”

“You’re welcome, but if you don’t mind, this time I’ll stay in the car with the doors locked and the windows rolled down. It’s too hot otherwise.”

Ragni sighed. How could she be so lucky as to have this kid along?

But when she got out of the car, Erika did too.

“I thought…”

“Thought of something I need. You didn’t bring extra paper along, did you?”

“Nope. Should have.”

“I’ll get some, and pencils.”

Later, after they drove across the railroad tracks in Medora, Ragni swung into the motel entrance. She ignored the questioning glances from her passenger and stopped at the office.

“Be right back.”

When she returned, Erika gave her a what-now look.

“We’ll be staying here, just for tomorrow night. And they have washers and dryers.”

“And TV and phone and a…” Erika paused, then pumped a fist. “A pool and showers. Yes!”

None of the cows were at the watering hole when they drove by. Ragni sighed in relief. At least the calf was safe.

Paunch barked when they drove in and parked in front of the house.

“I should a washed my hair in the sink at the truck stop.” Erika complained, picking at a strand.

“You look fine.”

“Right.”

“Grab the sack, please.”
At least I have strong deodorant.

Paul pushed open the screen door and beckoned them on in. “Paunch won’t bite, and neither do I.”

Erika rolled her eyes as she reached in the back for the package.

So is he married?
Ragni wondered, exiting the car.
Or is he just being neighborly and that’s all?
Besides, she would never be interested
in a North Dakota rancher. She was a city girl, she called Chicago home, and dinner with a handsome man was just dinner. Or supper, as he’d called it. Besides, how long was it since she’d had dinner with a handsome man, or any man for that matter? She made sure her smile was in place as she led the way up the walk.

“You want to see my new young un?” Paul asked.

“Uh, sure.” Ragni and Erika looked up at the man standing on the top of three steps.
A child? What?
Ragni held the bag with the cheese and crackers in front of her like a shield.

“This way.” Paul paused. “Does that need to go in the kitchen?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” He reached for the package.

“And, um, if I could use your powder room?” Why did asking make her uncomfortable?

“Oh, sure. Sorry. Right this way.” He turned and led the way back in the house. “Bathroom is first door on the left. I’ll take this to the kitchen.”

Erika—the kid with the bladder the size of Minnesota—beat her to the bathroom. Ragni glanced up and down the hall. Rodeo pictures framed in black marched along the walls, along with several framed displays of various kinds of barbed wire. A collection of spurs and bits took up another section. Obviously the man was into cowboy memorabilia. She studied the pictures, all a younger version of
the man who owned the place. Between two doorways he had hung family pictures going back a couple of generations, from the look of it, including photographs of him and what looked like two brothers and a sister. Another photo that appeared fairly recent included the apparent siblings and the parents; the young children might be nieces and nephews, judging by the family resemblance.

Ragni’s eyes continued scanning the photos on the wall.
Did the woman in this picture know my great-grandmother?
She studied the man and woman, posed so straight and sober they looked friendly as a porcupine she’d seen once in a park. Although the porcupine had had a cuddly kind of face, this twosome certainly didn’t. Even though she knew that in early photography people were told not to smile because they couldn’t hold a smile long enough for the picture to be taken—but still she wondered if they’d really been that serious.

As soon as Erika came out of the bathroom, Ragni stepped in. It was like going back in time. The room had a pull-chain toilet—its tank mounted high on the wall—barn board walls, and electrified gaslights. Even the mirror was framed in silvered barn boards.

When she came out, she wandered back to the front door, taking a moment to study the main room, where a cowhide was draped over a leather sofa and another over the matching chair made of natural lodge poles. Rocks from the Badlands—all the colors she saw on the buttes—formed the fireplace that went clear to the ceiling. The heavy chunk of aged wood mounted as the mantel might have come from the flooded river. A bear hide covered the plank floor in front of the fireplace, the teeth white against the black pelt. High above the mantel, an elk head with a large rack held the place of honor. It was clearly a man’s room, without a knickknack in sight.

Stopping on the porch, she stared out toward the barn and corrals.
Where had they gone?

“Out here!” Paul called, waving from the faded red barn door.

She waved back and headed out across the dirt lot broken by a tree like the ones in front of the cabin. Cottonwoods, the woman at the motel had said, only not of an equal age and size. Corrals hugged the right side of the barn, and pastures embraced the left, stretching to what must be the tree-bordered riverbank. Grazing cattle and horses dotted the green pasture, but Erika’s waving arm told Ragni to hustle and not gawk.

Blinking in the dimness as she stepped inside the barn, she heard two voices off to her left and followed the sound.

“Come see, Ragni, he’s the cutest thing ever.” Erika rested her crossed arms on the half stall door. “Look.”

Paul stepped back and motioned her to take his place.

The nursing foal ignored them, his brush of a tail ticking back and forth. The mare turned to nuzzle her baby’s rump, all the while keeping a watchful eye on the visitors.

“Oh, what a doll. How old is he?”

“Three days. If he develops like I think he will, he’ll make a great stud in a few years. He’s got all the right breeding.”

“What kind is he?”

“Appaloosa. He’s got a few spots in all that baby hair. If he turns out like his daddy, he’ll be something. Come over here. You can see the blanket on the mare better. She’s always thrown superior foals.”

Ragni did as he told her, and sure enough, while the mare had a red face with a blaze, her rump was a field of red dots and spots on a blanket of white. “She’s beautiful.”

“When the sun catches that sorrel hide of hers, she looks on fire. This little guy is her fourth foal, two colts and two fillies. She’s quite the good mama.”

“You breed Appaloosas?”

“Not a lot. I have three mares is all. Diamond Lil took honors as a cutting horse back when I was showing.”

He turned to Erika. “You want to come play with him sometime, feel free.”

Erika looked over her shoulder, her smile reminding Ragni of earlier years. “Could I really? The mare would let me?”

“We’ll let her out in the pasture,” Paul said. “She’ll need a break by then.”

“Does he get to go out?” Erika asked.

“Of course. But he needs to be handled—gotta get a halter on him and brush him so he’s used to people from the get-go.”

“What’s his name?”

“Well, his registered name is Diamond Danger. But I’m thinking of calling him Sparky. He’s a live wire, he is. If he turns out as good as I hope, I might keep him at stud here. Train him for cutting competition. Friend of mine would love to show him.”

“You don’t show any longer?” Ragni asked.

“Nope. Takes too much time away and costs an arm and a leg.” He turned back to watch the horses. “There are carrots in that refrigerator in the tackroom. Now that he’s done nursing, his mom’ll be glad for a treat.”

Erika trotted off.

“You’re making her day, you realize.”
Mine too.
“I’ve never been this close to a foal this young before either.”

“Good. Glad you could come. There’s nothing in this world as peaceful as watching a nursing foal in a big old barn.” He turned to look at her. “Something tells me you need some peace in your life.”

Whatever gave you that idea?
She studied the man beside her, who had turned back to the horses as the mare came up to him and sniffed his hands. Slow moving, slow talking, easy on the eyes. She’d read that phrase somewhere, and it fit this man. Strong in the art of being neighborly. He’d come to call not long after they arrived.
Was he typical of the people in this area or was he special?

“Here.” Erika carried several big carrots and made to hand them to him.

“You ever fed a horse carrots?”

“Yes, at camp.”

“Then you know to break them into smaller pieces and flat-palm them for her?”

“Yes.”

“Good. She’ll be your friend forever. You might give some to your aunt here too.” He reached up and rubbed the mare’s ears but all she cared about was the carrots. Her ears pricked forward and as soon as Erika held out a chunk, the mare lipped it right up. The crunch of her chewing sounded loud in the stillness. The colt lay sprawled, flat on his side in the straw over in the back corner.

“Fill your belly and sleep. What a life.” Paul nodded toward the baby.

Ragni took the pieces of carrot Erika had broken for her and held her hand out. The horse’s whiskers tickled as she took the treat.

“You sure are a beauty.” Ragni stroked the mare’s face, then palmed the next chunk when the mare nuzzled her hand.

“Should I get more?” Erika asked after she’d fed the last piece.

“No, let’s go and feed ourselves. She’s had enough.” He stepped back, brushing Ragni’s arm as he moved.

She caught her breath.
No way, that’s the last thing I need right now, chemistry with a cowboy.
But her arm stayed warm on the way back to the house, Paunch frisking at their heels, his raised muzzle inches from Paul’s hand.

One thing’s for sure, the man’s animals think he’s someone special. But then dogs were made to adore humans.
She almost laughed thinking of a sign she’d read: “The dog thinks you are God. The cat knows she is.”

“I’ll fire up the grill for the steaks,” Paul said. “Potatoes are in the oven, and the salad is ready in the fridge. So are the drinks, if you want to help yourselves. There’s iced tea and sodas.”

Ragni looked over to see the table all set in front of a bank of windows that looked over a deck shaded by another of the cottonwood trees, this one a twin to the giant between the house and the barn.

Paul paused. “We could eat outside, if you’d rather.”

“This is beautiful. I’ll get the drinks; what do you want?” Ragni offered.

“Iced tea. Straight up. There’s sugar in the cupboard over there if you want.”

“Do you cook on that stove?” Erika nodded toward the cast-iron stove that gleamed against one wall. The chrome dueled with the black for the best shine.

“We could. My mother used to. Nothing beats beans baked in a wood stove, but I use the electric one. Easier and faster.”

“The one in the cabin, could it ever look like this one again?” Ragni studied the stove, even to the dial on the front of the oven door.

“Take a lot of scrubbing and scraping to get rid of the rust. Then you black and polish it. Could if you wanted to work that hard.”

“I’m not afraid of hard work.” She knew her answer had a bit of a bite to it, but his statement rankled.

“I’ll start the grill.”

She watched him saunter out the French doors that opened onto the deck, then turned at Erika’s snort. “What?”

“Nothing.” Erika reached into the fridge and brought out a pitcher of iced tea. “You want this or a soda?”

“Tea.” Ragni leaned against the center island and stared out the windows. “What a view.”

“He’s not bad either.”

“Erika Bradford. What a thing to say.”

The girl giggled. “I’ll bet the glasses are over there.” She nodded to the cupboard behind Ragni’s back and set the pitcher on the butcher block top.

The kitchen looked to have been a recent addition, coming off the middle of the long log house in a T shape. Pine cabinets and terra cotta tiles on the counters fit in with the rustic logs of both the original house and the addition. But the wall of windows drew her as if there were no barrier between inside and out.

Paul beckoned them from the deck. “Bring the drinks out here, more comfortable.”

“You take his out, and I’ll fix the cheese and crackers.” Ragni took out a plate from the cupboard next to the glasses. Although she felt a bit uncomfortable pawing through someone else’s kitchen, it obviously didn’t bother Paul, so she ignored the twinge. She unwrapped the Havarti and Gouda cheeses, put them in the center of the plate,
and arranged the crackers. In the silverware drawer she found a horn-handled small knife and added that.

Shame she didn’t have parsley or a bit of mint to add class. An herb garden flashed through her mind. She’d seen one set in a circle with a sundial in the middle and painted it—only in her painting, the sundial became a fountain with miniature roses around the pedestal.
Forget it, Ragni, you have no time for painting here or anywhere. You’ll have plenty of time to paint when you retire.

She carried the plate out to the round table and took one of the weathered wooden Adirondack chairs. “Sure smells good.”

“Nothing beats the steaks we raise right here.”

Erika’s eyes widened. “You mean one of those cows like we saw today?”

“Well, one of the steers. We don’t butcher the cows unless one won’t breed again—she’d be shipped to the auction. We butcher steers for our meat in the freezer.”

“You mean you actually eat them?” Voice and face matched in horror.

Ragni tried to keep from laughing, first at Paul, who stared at Erika as if she’d morphed into an alien right before his eyes, and then at Erika, who had drawn her body into the chair as if touching the floor might bring on contamination, let alone eating one of the cows—uh, steers.

Ragni had learned early on where her food came from; her father delighted in telling stories of growing up on a farm. They’d visited an uncle on the old family farm when Ragni was small, and she’d fed the calves and gathered eggs. But Erika was a true city child, and the farm had been sold long before she came along. She bought meat, milk,
and eggs at the store—or rather, her mother did—without questioning where it all came from.

Paul turned the steaks over and closed the lid. Taking a seat at the table, he helped himself to the crackers and cheese. “Thanks for bringing these.”

“You’re welcome. There’s a loaf of French bread in there too. You want me to slice it?”

“In a minute.” He took a swig of tea. “Don’t usually have female company like this. Having you here is a treat.” He looked to Erika. “I was serious about playing with Sparky. When could you come?”

Erika glanced over at Ragni, her face and body one begging mass. “Tomorrow?”

So much for my helper.

“After we finish cleaning that kitchen,” Ragni interjected. “Then I’ll work on the stove while you go play.”

“You could come too.” He smiled at her as he rose to go check on the meal.

“Thanks, we’ll see.”

Paul forked the steaks onto a serving platter and headed for the house. “Supper’s on.”