The Ranch

Chapter 13

Their ride that afternoon was just as pleasant as the one that morning, and they rode out again in the same groups and configurations. They were assigned the same wrangler and the same horses for the duration of their stay, so Liz, the head of the corral, was anxious to know if everyone was satisfied with their mounts and their cowboys. And no one seemed to have any complaints that she knew of.

Zoe chatted with the doctors again that afternoon, and Tanya tried not to listen as they had moved on to transplants, which was no better than the discussion about severed limbs earlier that morning. And trying to leave Mary Stuart alone with Hartley as they discussed a book they'd both read, she moved ahead again with the wrangler. Once again, they rode for what seemed like miles, in silence. And then finally, Tanya couldn't stand it, and she looked at him from across her horse's neck, but he never even looked at her. It was as though he had no idea who she was beside him. It was entirely up to her to keep up with him, he never once acknowledged her presence.

“Is there something about me that bothers you?” she asked, with an irritated expression. He was really beginning to annoy her. She was not having fun, and she didn't even like him.

“No, ma'am. Nothing at all,” he said, without a change of expression. She thought he was going to lapse into silence again and she wanted to hit him with her cowboy boot. He was the most taciturn man she'd ever met, and she couldn't stand it. Usually people at least talked to her, or looked at her, or something. She had never met anyone with reactions like Gordon. But he surprised her after another half mile, while she was debating whether or not it was worth the trouble of trying again, just to see if he would answer. “You're a real good rider.” At first, she couldn't believe he'd spoken, and this time he glanced at her sideways, and then looked away just as quickly. It was almost as though her light was too blinding. It was that that was troubling him, but she didn't know that.

“Thank you. I don't like horses.” Or cowboys. Or people who don't talk to me. Or anything about you.

“I saw that on your card, ma'am. Any special reason? You taken a bad fall sometime?” She suspected it was the most he'd said all year to anyone, but at least he was trying. He was clearly a man of few words, but she was beginning to wonder if Hartley was right, and he was shy and not used to city people. He should have taken a job doing shoes then, not riding with hotel guests, she thought as she watched him.

“No, I've never fallen. I just think horses are dumb. I rode a lot when I was a kid, but I never liked it.”

“I grew up on a horse,” he said matter-of-factly, “roping steers. My daddy worked on a ranch, and I worked right along with him.” He didn't tell her that his father had died when he was ten, and he had supported his mother and four sisters until they all got married and he still supported his mother, and he had a son he helped out from time to time in Montana. Despite what Tanya thought of him, Gordon Washbaugh was a good man, and a bright one. “Most of the people who come here say they can ride, think so too, but they're just plain dangerous. They don't have any idea what they're doing. They all wind up in the dust first day out. Not many like you, ma'am.” It was a classic understatement and he knew it. He looked at her sheepishly, and she was surprised to see that he was smiling too then. “I never rode with anyone famous. Makes me kinda nervous.” He was so honest it impressed her. And she was suddenly embarrassed by her complaints to the others at lunchtime.

“Why would it make you nervous?” His perception of her amused her. It was so rare that she could see herself from that perspective. She never really understood why people were so fascinated, nor why he would be frightened of her,

“Don't want to say the wrong thing, ma'am. Might make you angry.”

And then she laughed suddenly, as they rode through a clearing. The light was beautiful on the hills, and in the distance they could see a coyote. “You really made me mad when you wouldn't talk to me this morning,” she admitted with a grin, and he glanced at her cautiously. He had no idea whether or not to relax with her, if she was real, and could be trusted. “I thought you hated me or something.”

“Why would I hate you? The whole damn ranch wants to know you. Bought your CD's, want autographs. Someone's got a video of you somewhere. They told us not to say anything to you, not to ask questions, not to bother you. I figured it was just better not to talk at all. Didn't want to bug you. The others make such damn fools of themselves. I tried to get them to let someone else be your wrangler. I'm not much of a talker.” He was so honest with her that in spite of her earlier assessment of him, she actually liked him. And he was surprisingly clean and well-spoken for a cowboy. “I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings.” He brought it down to such real emotions, she started to say he hadn't, but he had, that was the whole point. It hurt her that he wouldn't talk to her. It was something new for Tanya. “I figured it'd be more restful for you if I kept my mouth shut.”

“Well, make a little noise from time to time just so I know you're breathing,” she said with a lopsided grin, and he guffawed.

“Someone like you, the whole world must chew your ear off. I couldn't believe how crazy they all got before you got here. Must be hard on you,” he said matter-of-factly, getting right to the heart of the matter, and she nodded.

“It is,” she said softly, able to be honest with him, out in the middle of nowhere, as they loped toward the mountains across a field of wildflowers. It was like seeking truth, or finding nirvana. There was something about the place that touched her deeply. She had come here to amuse her stepchildren originally, and then her friends, but instead she was finding something she had lost from her soul a long time ago, a kind of peace she had long since forgotten. “All those people grabbing at you, taking something from you, taking something away from you, it's as though they suck out your spirit and they don't even know it, but they do… sometimes I think that one day it will kill me, or they will.” The nightmare of John Lennon being murdered by a fan was vivid for all famous people who had mobs of fans as she did. But there were other nightmares as well, just as lethal in the long run, though less obvious than the gun that had killed him. “It's a crazy life where I come from,” she said thoughtfully, “it didn't used to be in the beginning. But it got that way. And I don't think it's ever going to change now.”

“You ought to buy a place here,” he said, looking straight ahead toward the Tetons, “a lot of people like you come here, to get away, to hide for a while, get their spirit back. They come here, or go to Montana, Colorado, same idea. You could go back to Texas.” He smiled at her and she groaned.

“I think I've outgrown that,” she confessed, and he laughed. His laughter was a fresh, easy sound that suited him perfectly and made her smile in answer.

“I think I outgrew Texas a long time ago too. Too hot, too dusty, too empty. That's why I came here. This suits me better,” he said as she looked around them and nodded. It was easy to see why. Who wouldn't it have suited?

“Do you live here all year long?” she asked. This was much better than the morning. Even if she never saw him again, at least now they were human beings. He knew something about her, and she knew something about him. She thought maybe she'd write a song about him. The Silent Cowboy.

“Yes, ma'am,” he said.

“What's it like?” She was thinking of the song now.

“Cold.” He smiled and glanced at her sideways again. She was so beautiful, she scared him. It was easier not to see her. “We get twenty feet of snow sometimes. We send the horses south in October. Can't get around except by snowplow.”

“It must be lonely,” she said thoughtfully, trying to picture it. It was light-years away from Bel Air, recording studios, movies, concerts. Twenty feet of snow… one solitary man… and a snowplow.

“I like it,” he said. “I keep busy. I get a lot of time to read, and think. I write some,” and then he smiled cautiously and glanced at her, “listen to music.”

“Don't tell me you listen to me while you're sitting here in twenty feet of snow all winter.” The very idea of it was so foreign to her that it amazed her and she loved it.

“Sometimes,” he confessed. “I listen to other things too. Country western. I used to like jazz but I don't listen to it much anymore. Beethoven, Mozart.” The man was intriguing to her. She had definitely misjudged him. She wanted to ask him if he was married, if he had a family, out of curiosity, not out of any interest in him, but that seemed too personal, and she sensed that he would have been offended. He was careful to set boundaries and stay well behind them. And then, before she could ask him anything else about his life there, they rejoined the others. Hartley and Mary Stuart were chatting easily, and the doctors were still busy dismembering remembered patients, enchanted with their discussions. It was a surprisingly congenial group, and they were all sorry when their trail ride ended. It was four o'clock by then, and they were free to go to the swimming pool, go hiking, or play tennis. But they were all exhausted and Zoe looked it. Tanya had been noticing since the day before that Zoe was paler than she had been in college. Her already fair skin seemed to have gotten even whiter.

The medical couple from Chicago went for a walk to look at wildflowers, and Hartley walked the three women back to their cabin, and they were all startled to see a little boy there. He was just sitting there, and when Mary Stuart saw him, she had a visceral reaction. He was about six years old, and he seemed to be waiting for someone.

“Hi,” Tanya said easily. “Did you ride today?”

“Yup,” he said, pushing a red cowboy hat back on his head. He was wearing little black cowboy boots with red bulls on them, and little blue jeans and a denim jacket. “My horse's name is Rusty.”

“And what's your name?” Zoe asked as she sat down beside him on the deck, grateful to sit down for a moment. The altitude made her breathless.

“Benjamin,” he said formally. “My mommy's having a baby, so she can't ride horses.” He was more than willing to share the information, and Zoe and Tanya exchanged a smile. Mary Stuart was standing a little distance away, talking to Hartley, but she was frowning and didn't know it. But Tanya had seen it, and she knew why even if Mary Stuart didn't. The boy looked so much like her son Todd at the same age that it made your heart ache. Tanya wondered if Mary Stuart saw it, but she didn't want to say anything to Zoe, for fear Mary Stuart would hear it. And the odd thing was that the child kept staring at Mary Stuart as though he knew her. It was eerie.

“My aunt looks just like you,” he offered finally, fascinated by Mary Stuart, although she was the only one of the group who hadn't spoken to him, and didn't want to. She didn't go out of her way to avoid him, but she didn't enter into conversation with him either. She had sensed, more than seen, the resemblance. And Hartley saw something in her eyes that made him wonder.

“Do you have children?” he asked. He had noticed the wedding band on her hand that afternoon, but from things she'd said about deciding where to spend the summer, and the impression he'd gotten that she was alone, he wasn't exactly clear on her marital status. And neither was Mary Stuart.

“Yes, I do…” she answered vaguely in answer to his question about whether she had children. “A daughter… I… and a son, who died,” she said awkwardly, and he could see the pain in her eyes and didn't pursue it. She turned away from the boy then, and walked into the cabin with Hartley. She didn't want to see the child a moment longer.

“Was he…” he hesitated, wanting to reach out to her, but not sure how to, “was he very young when he died?” he asked cautiously, wondering if he shouldn't mention it at all. But he wanted to know more about her. Perhaps that was why she had come here. Perhaps he had died in an accident with the father… or perhaps she was still married. There were questions he wanted to ask her. After riding with her all day, he felt as though they were friends now. They were so isolated from the world they knew, in this remarkable place, thrown together for only moments. If they were to become friends, they had to learn everything about each other very quickly.

“Todd was twenty when he died,” she said quietly, trying not to see the little boy beyond the window. He was still chatting with Zoe and Tanya. “It was last year,” she said, looking down at her hands for a moment.

“I'm so sorry,” Hartley said softly, and dared to touch her hand for an instant. He knew only too well the pain of loss. He and Margaret had been married for twenty-six years when he lost her, and they had never had children. She couldn't. And he had accepted that. In some ways, he had always thought it brought them closer. But now he looked at Mary Stuart and could only glimpse what she had gone through. “It must be terrible to lose a child. I can't imagine it. It was bad enough when Margaret died. I really thought it would kill me. I was surprised when I woke up every morning, I kept waiting to die of grief, and was stunned that I didn't. I've been writing about it in my new book all winter.”

“It must help writing about it,” she said as they sat down on the couch in the living room. The other two were still outside talking, but she couldn't see the boy now. “I wish I could write about it. But it's better now. I finally put his things away a few weeks ago, before I came here. I couldn't bring myself to do it before that.”

“It took me nearly two years with Margaret,” he said honestly. And he had only been out with two women so far and hated both of them for not being her. He knew all about the pain of adjusting. At least she didn't have that to deal with, though he still didn't know about her husband. “It must have been very hard on your husband too,” he said, fishing for information, but she didn't understand that. He had seen the narrow wedding band, but the way she spoke didn't confirm that she was married,

“Actually,” she decided to be honest with him. “It was hard on him. Our marriage didn't survive it.”

Hartley nodded. He knew about that too, though not firsthand, but from a cousin who had been through it. It was not surprising. “Where is he now?”

“In London,” she said, and he nodded. It was what he had wanted to know. And he assumed that meant Bill lived there. Mary Stuart didn't understand why he had asked her and just thought he was being friendly. It had been a long time since a man had shown an interest in her, and she didn't fully comprehend that that was the case now with this one. For the moment, she just thought they were fellow riders, although she liked him immensely, and was amazed at how easy he was to talk to.

He asked if they would join him for dinner, and she said she'd ask the others, and he left her to do some work, and read his mail Like many of them, he was managing to maintain contact with his office from a distance, and he was planning to do a little work here. He promised to see her at dinner, and when the others came in, she told them about the invitation. And predictably, they teased her, especially Tanya.

“Quick work, Stu! I like him.” She was smiling at Mary Stuart and Mary Stuart threw a small cushion at her in outrage.

“Oh, for Heaven's sake, he invited all of us to dinner, not just me, you dummy. He's lonely. He lost his wife, and he has no one to talk to.”

“He seemed to be doing fine with you.” Tanya pursued her mercilessly, and Mary Stuart told her she was silly.

“He's very nice, very intelligent, and very lonely.”

“And very interested in you. I'm not blind, for Heaven's sake, even if you are. I think you've been married for so long, you don't even see it when guys look at you.”

“And what about you and the wrangler?” Mary Stuart teased her right back. They were like freshmen. “He seems to have overcome his speech block. You even had him smiling.”

“He's a real character. He lives here alone in the winter, in twenty feet of snow.” She didn't tell them that he listened to her music. But there was certainly nothing romantic between them. Just horses.

“I think you're both blind.” Zoe addressed both of them. “Hartley Bowman looks like he's crazy about Stu, and unless I've lost my touch entirely, I'd say by the time we leave here, our wrangler is going to be head over heels for Tanya. I predict it for the yearbook.” They both laughed at her, and Tanya raised an eyebrow. It was so outlandish, she didn't even bother to comment.

“And what about you, Zoe? Are you going to break up that marriage and run off with the doctor from Chicago?” He was short, round, and bald, and even the thought of it was really funny.

“Unfortunately, his wife is more interesting than he is, which is a real problem. I'd have to run off with her, and that's not my thing, I'm afraid, so I guess that leaves me high and dry here.”

“There's always Sam!” Tanya reminded her, and Zoe groaned. That was not a reminder she wanted.

“Mind your own business. Little does he know that he has a champion in Wyoming. Tell you what, Tan, when you come to San Francisco, I'll introduce you, and you can go out with him. You'd like him.”

“That's a deal. Now, let's talk about Mary Stuart.” She turned her attention to her and Mary Stuart groaned in anticipation. “Tell us about your new friend.”

“There's nothing to tell. I told you. He's just lonely.”

“So are you, so am I. So is Zoe. So what else is new?” Tanya said, lying down on the couch. Her legs ached. They had done a lot of riding.

“I'm not lonely,” Zoe corrected her. “I'm very happy.”

“I know, you're a saint. You just don't know you're lonely. Trust me,” Tanya said, and they all laughed.

“Forget all these guys, I'm going out with Benjamin,” Zoe said with a smile. He was an adorable child, and they had both liked him.

“Great choice,” Tanya said, and Mary Stuart said nothing, but asked them what they wanted to do about dinner with Hartley. Should they accept his invitation to sit at his table? “Why not? Maybe we'll get Mary Stuart all fixed up with him.”

“Relax,” Mary Stuart said soberly, “I'm still married.”

“Does he know that?” Zoe asked with interest. Mary Stuart wore a wedding band, but he might have wondered where her husband was and why she had come to the ranch with two women.

“He didn't ask actually,” Mary Stuart said, confirming her belief that he was only interested in friendship. “He asked where my husband was at one point, and I said in London.”

“Oh-oh,” Tanya said wisely. “You'd better clear that up. I think that's what he was asking, he may have gotten the wrong impression from that.” But what was the right one?

“I told him our marriage didn't survive when my son died,” she said casually.

“You told him that?” Tanya looked startled. That was a lot to say to a perfect stranger. But they had spent six hours riding side by side. It was more time together than some couples spent in a week's time, and he had been very interested in her.

“Maybe I should tell him I'm still married,” though she didn't know for how much longer. But somehow it seemed presumptuous to just volunteer that information. What if he really didn't care if she was married? “I'll see what seems appropriate. I really don't think he's interested like that,” Mary Stuart said demurely, and the other two hooted at her.

“You're both disgusting,” she said, and went to take a shower, while Zoe called Sam. She wanted to know what was happening in her office, but he was in a treatment room with a patient. And Annalee told her that everything was going smoothly. She went to lie down after that, and had a short nap before dinner. She was surprised at how well she felt when she got up. Sleep really made a difference.

The three of them dined with Hartley that night. He was intelligent, interesting, and wonderfully worldly. He had traveled everywhere, knew fascinating things, and knew all kinds of intriguing people. And more than that, he was a nice man, and was extremely polite about dividing his attention. He never left anyone out, and all three of them felt as though he enjoyed being with them. But when they walked back to the cabin afterward, and he accompanied them, he walked along beside Mary Stuart. And he spoke to her in a gentle voice that seemed meant for her ears and no others. Tanya and Zoe went inside when they arrived at their cabin, and Mary Stuart stayed outside with Hartley for a while. She wasn't sure how to bring it up, but she thought the others had made a good point that afternoon about telling him that she was married.

“I feel a little foolish saying this to you,” she explained, as they sat peacefully beneath a nearly full moon that shone blue on the snow atop the glaciers. “And I have no idea if it means anything to you, but I just didn't want to mislead you. I'm married,” she said, and was startled to see a look of disappointment in his eyes. “My husband is working in London for the summer. I realized that what I may have said to you might have given you a different impression. To be honest with you,” and she always was with everyone, “I'm planning to leave him at the end of the summer. I needed some time to decide what to do, but our marriage died with our son, and now I think it's time to move” on, put us both out of our misery, and end it.”

“Will your husband be surprised?” Hartley asked quietly. He was looking at her very intently. He barely knew her, and yet he liked her honesty, her kindness, and her directness. But he was sorry to hear she was still married. Perhaps, in the long run, it didn't make any difference. She sounded pretty definite about it being over with her husband. “Do you think your husband is aware of what you're feeling?”

“I don't see how he couldn't be. He's barely spoken to me for a year. We have no marriage, no life, no friendship. He blames me for our son's death, and I don't think anything will ever change that. I can't live like that anymore. I don't mean to tell you my problems, but I just wanted you to know that I am actually still married for the moment, although I don't think I will be for too much longer.”

“Thank you for being honest with me,” he smiled. It was incredible even to him how much he liked her. She was the first woman he had really liked since Margaret died, and after only one day, he was crazy about her. But everything here was in triple time. It was very much like being on shipboard.

“I hope you don't think I'm crazy for bringing it up, I just don't want to mislead you. I'm sure it doesn't make any difference to you… it's just…” She was suddenly mortified to have told him any of it, and she was stumbling over her words. What difference could it possibly make to him that she was married? She was suddenly furious with the other two for influencing her, and she felt really stupid. But as she sat there uncomfortably, he looked at her and he was smiling.

“I have no idea what I'm doing here, Mary Stuart. I wasn't even going to come here this year. I've been feeling sorry for myself for two years, and I haven't looked at another woman. And now suddenly here you are, like a bright ray of sunshine on the mountains, and all I can tell you is that I've never been so bowled over by anyone before. I have no idea what this will be, or what you want, or even what I do, or if you'd even be interested in me, but I just want you to know that I barely know you, but I care very much about you. I hate the fact that you lost your son,” he said, as he gently put an arm around her, and he pulled her slowly against his shoulder. “I hated the look in your eyes when you saw that little boy this afternoon, and I wanted to take all that hurt away from you. And actually, although I can't believe I'm saying this, I don't like the fact that you're not divorced, but I'm not even sure that that's important. I have no idea if you'll ever want to see me again after next week, and I'm probably making a terrible fool of myself, and if I am, tell me, and I won't do more than tip my hat at you for the rest of the trip.” His eyes were searching hers in the moonlight and hers were full of tears. They were all the things she had wanted Bill to say and he never had. He had completely abandoned her, and suddenly there was this stranger, answering all her prayers. “I just want to be with you, and talk to you, and learn about you… and then let's see what happens.” What more could one ask? She sat looking at him, unable to believe what she was hearing.

“Am I dreaming this?” she asked, looking at him with eyes full of tears and wishes. Was it possible to find someone like him?

“That's how I felt all afternoon today. Let's not look for any answers quite so soon. Let's just enjoy it,” he said, feeling her hair brush his cheek, he closed his eyes, breathing in her perfume. He didn't say another word, he just sat there, holding her for a long time, until he felt her begin to tremble. It was only partly from the chill, the rest was pure emotion. She had only arrived the day before, and seen him for the first time that morning. But she had read everything he'd ever written, and almost felt she knew him, and they had talked for hours and bared their souls, and they shared a powerful attraction.

“You're cold, I'll take you in,” he said, wishing he didn't have to leave her. She stopped and looked up at him, and once again he put his arm around her.

“Thank you for everything,” she whispered, feeling him close to her, and then he walked her to the door and left her there. She slipped inside, hoping the others had gone to bed, and she was grateful to find they had. But when she went into her own room she found a fax on her bed, from Bill. It was painfully simple.

“Hope all goes well. Work is satisfactory here in London. Best regards to your friend. Bill.” That was it. And at the bottom, in her lacy handwriting, Tanya had scrawled across the page, “If I were you, I'd call my lawyer.” It was certainly dry, and suddenly life was giving her a brand-new opportunity. A door was closing behind her, but another, just ahead, was beginning to open. And through it, she could finally see sunlight on the mountains.