A Feather in the Rain (12 page)

He looked for a note. There was none. He picked up the block of wood again and read all its sides and when he was sure he was reading it correctly, he let loose the yahoo that had been welling within. It surged to the surface in a full-throated, stampede-starting howl that was heard by Ricardo in the barn.

Good God Almighty, she said yes. Now what? He turned the wood block over in his hand to the image of the feather. Of all things, why a feather?

He thought about the wheat-colored hair, the ivory skin, and her wildflower fragrance enveloping his senses as they rode together on that Colorado day through the postcard of the Rockies. She is a big city sophisticate, lived all over the world, been everywhere, done everything. What am I going to do to entertain her? You dumb old son of a bitch, what the hell have you gotten yourself into now?

He walked around in circles scratching his head, trying to decide what to do first. Go out and ride, pretending everything is normal. Go out and tell everyone the most beautiful woman in the world is coming to visit him. Call her. Yes, he had to call her and tell her he'd received her yes and how happy he was to get it. He stood there and looked at the phone with his heart drumming like he was about to bungee jump off a bridge.

All of Colorado's sunshine was in her voice when she answered, “Good afternoon.”

She made him smell smoke from a fire that was not yet lit. “Good afternoon.”

“Oh, hi. How are you?”

“I am real fine. I just picked up my mail. I've never been so happy to receive anything in my life.” He heard her light chuckle, the ripple of a mountain brook.

“That's nice. Thank you.”

“What made you put a feather on the block of wood?”

“I don't know. It just came into my mind to do it. Why?”

“Just that feathers have a special significance for me.”

“Maybe I knew that.”

“How?”

She laughed like music. “I don't know.”

“When can you come?”

“When would you like me to come?”

“Any time from this moment on. And stay as long as you can.”

“All right. Let me see when I can and I'll call you back, okay?”

“Yes ma'am. That will be just fine.” A fever surged through him as he asked about her parents and the horses and doing the commercial for the car dealer. He closed his eyes and tried to see her face as she thanked him for the book on cutting.

“Where is that quote from, the one you wrote on the inside?”

He chuckled as he said, “Me.”

She was silent for a moment, then she said, “It's really neat. How did you come up with that?”

“I don't know.” He felt his face redden and laughed. “I was curious. I'm always trying to figure everything out. Especially where creative stuff comes from.”

He waited a minute to see if she was going to continue, then said, “Thank you for saying yes.”

“Thank you for asking me.”

When he walked out the front door, he nearly fell down the steps.

A
fter half a dozen lessons on several different horses, Kevin Bradley wrote a check for seventy five thousand dollars and became the proud owner of Merlin's Moon. And Moon became the newest resident at the Lazy JB.

Kevin stood there stroking Moon's gleaming hip and smiling like a boy at Christmas. “I've owned hundreds of horses in my life and I swear each one is just as exciting as the first.”

The rest of the day Holly Marie was in every thought.

He went to bed that night without having said a word about her to anyone. He wondered when she'd call, how long before she'd be in his house…and how long would she stay.

H
e was reaching for a saddle in the tack room when the phone rang. It was Abbie's job to answer it. She moved to get it. Jesse picked it up. “This is Jesse.” Abbie continued selecting bridles and wondering what in hell was going on with him. He seemed weirder than usual lately. Her antennae were up and her ears were on.

“Hi. How're you doin'?” His face lit up and went to full glow in a second. “Great,” he said and listened. “Oh, great. Yeah, that'll be fine…yep…” he listened for a longer time and tried to inconspicuously turn away from Abbie's unveiled scrutiny. “Sure, that'll be fine. I'll be there. Thanks…me too…bye.” He scribbled on a pad, folded the scrap into his pocket and grabbed a saddle. He walked out smiling to himself, and put it on a horse.

Abbie, consumed with curiosity, made every effort to appear unconcerned as she hung the bridles on the saddle horns. She had her back to him when she heard him say, “Her name is Holly Marie. She's from Colorado. She's got a hump on her back and an eye in
the middle of her forehead and she's coming to visit. She's half my age. It may be the dumbest thing I've ever done in my life but I'm excited about it. I'd be grateful if you'd help me get the place ready for her…make her feel welcome.”

“Holly Marie, huh…bet I'll hate her.”

“How much?”

“Five bucks.”

“Hey, your ten percent of Kevin has made you a wealthy woman. I'll bet you a hundred you don't hate her.”

“Five bucks.”

“Okay, big spender, you got a deal.”

They drove to San Antonio and went on a spree. She picked out thick towels, luxurious sheets, a real bath mat, fancy soaps, and aromatic bath oils and candles. Abbie had slandered his curtains as having been there since Geronimo ran amok. Frilly white ones would brighten the room. “And you really need to get a new bedspread. That old Navajo rug smells like a herd of buffalo. God knows what's living in there. Of course, maybe she's not gonna spend much time in the guestroom. In which case, you need to get a bedspread for your bed.” She pursed her lips, a dare to respond. He just shook his head.

She was checking her list when he asked, “Should I get some of this room spray? Says here, wildflowers.”

“You'd need a case. Hell, it's a ranch. No need to make it smell like a whorehouse.”

H
e got out of the shower, clipped and filed the nails on his hands and feet testing for rough edges that might offend female flesh. He trimmed nose hair and snipped an edge along his sideburns and shaved with care. He put on pressed Wranglers and a starched white shirt. He buffed his favorite trophy buckle and pulled on his best boots. He stood in front of a mirror. He was trim and fit, hard as rock. His chiseled face was lean and lined, taut and tanned. Silver streaked his light brown hair. His eyes gleamed with purpose. I may be a little long in the tooth but hell, I look pretty damn good. That lasted about ten seconds before panic grabbed him around the throat.

He stood in the doorway looking around the guestroom for the tenth time. It was bright and clean. He'd remembered a neckerchief she wore, covered in sunflowers. She said she was partial to sunflowers. He'd put a bunch in a vase on the nightstand next to the bed. He checked the bathroom one more time. He tugged at the new
shower curtain and smoothed the folds. There was a knock at the front door.

He called out, “Come in.”

Abbie entered saying, “I'm outta here. Looks great. Hope she appreciates it. If she's got any complaints, I'll be justified in hating her. So does work go on as usual? Am I supposed to be here tomorrow or are you gonna lock the front gate?”

“Hey. I don't even know this woman. She's coming here as a friend. That's all I know.”

“Yeah…right.”

“You be here. It's a work day…what time will you be here?”

“One-thirty. You better get going. If she's as ugly as you say, they might drop a net on her as she gets off the plane. And if she's not, she might just turn around and go back if you're not there.”

“Thanks. Thanks for the help.”

“See yah…” She smiled and looking like a waif waiting to be claimed, went out the door.

T
hough his heart would have had him pressed to the barrier, he stood off to the side, so he might see her before she spotted him. He tried to calm a rampage of emotions.

Taller, leaner than he remembered. In her brother's dark blue blazer and jeans, she exuded the quintessence of female sexuality. Wearing her black cowboy hat, a huge duffel slung over one shoulder and a black leather knapsack hung from the other, she marched with purpose, expecting to be found. Had he not been there, she might have marched straight to Mexico rather than appear disappointed.

He stepped in front of her smiling, reaching for the heavy bag saying, “Hi…you look great.” The entire county of San Antonio agreed, demonstrating with craned necks and naked stares of admiration, envy, and lust. She relinquished the bag and stepped in sync beside him with that heel-springing gait. He wanted to kiss her, just on the cheek. But instead, as he walked beside her, his arm had
encircled her waist. He felt a vibrant coil of heated energy surge from the core of her on a faint scent of musk.

Behind the elegant, self-assurance, moved a braided twist of apprehension and doubt. She was constantly in motion between the two extremes, seeking a truth she could trust. They'd both reached deep for the courage to be bold. He to ask. She to say yes. She scanned the spinning bags, grateful for the task. He studied her as if to disassemble her molecule by molecule and put her back together, remembering where the pieces went.

She moved a slender arm slung like a whip, strong as a dockhand's, snagged an enormous black duffel bag from the carousel. “That's it,” she said on the move. He tried to take it from her. She said, “I've hauled this all over the world. I don't think I could walk out of an airport if I weren't carrying it.”

When they got to the truck, vacuumed and washed, but nevertheless, a truck, he apologized. “I thought about renting a limo but I figured it'd be too much of a fall back to reality.”

“I like trucks.” She smiled, flashing delicate teeth, and climbed in. He shut the door for her, walked to the other side and fixed himself behind the wheel. He looked at her, bit his lower lip and smiled. “It sure is nice to have you here.”

“Thank you.” She had a way of making you feel you were hearing the words for the first time. Darkness descended as they pulled out on to the road to Bandera. A melon slice of moon was rising south.

Dozer and Blizzard were there to greet them in the warm night. Holly dropped to her knees and got right in their faces. “And what's your name?” she said in a child's voice, ruffling the big dog's face.

“That's Dozer.”

“Is that because he likes to nap?” She pulled his loose jowls into a wide grin. “That's a smoogie face.”

“No…my son Zack… he found him on a construction site. It's for bulldozer.”

“And this guy?” She was scratching between Blizzard's ears
while still tugging on Dozer's face.

“That's Blizzard…cuz he blows like snow through everything.”

“We've got two big goldens, brother and sister…” she turned back to Dozer telling him about the goldens. “They're smoogie, too.” She stood up and helped Jesse with the bags.

He led her to the guestroom where on the door hung a sign he'd put up after Abbie had left the house. It said, “Welcome, Holly Marie.” When she thanked him, he grinned and turned away like a schoolboy who'd just asked for his first date. He put the bags in the room, showed her the bathroom and said, “Unpack, take a shower, do whatever you like. Just be at home. I've got some food going, so whenever you feel like it we can have something to eat.” Then he turned and left her alone to settle in.

Every romantic impulse that had ever existed and been entombed under centuries of disuse had been, in the past days of anticipating her arrival, unearthed and set free. He had lit the fire, opened the wine, and turned on the music, Mozart, to love by. Scented candles shaped the shadows on the walls.

She came like a whisper into the room, in a warm glow, on a vapor of perfume. A tall, lithe, wraith in a sheer, flowing frock. Her hair was piled and twisted, speared by a thin long makeup brush holding it in place. A cameo profile smiling, turned and came to him. He took her hand and led her to the sofa. They sat sideways, facing each other watching the fire play over their skin. She pulled her knees to her chin and looked over them at Jesse. Her feet were naked on the cushion, just a reach away. She smiled, bejeweled in the firelight, blue-gray eyes beneath lowering lids. The soft flesh at the corners of her mouth lifted the pouting lips. “This is nice…peaceful.”

Slowly, he extended his hand toward hers. “I can't believe you are actually here…in my house…sitting across from me on this sofa. I can see you, I can smell you, I can hear you…” as he reached her hand, she opened it to accept his touch, “…and I can feel you. So I guess you must be here.”

She laughed, “I think so.”

He eased his hand around in hers as they explored their palms and felt the tingling thrills that fingertips sent scooting down the backroads of nerves. The essence of his being seemed to flow down into that moist palm. The fire crackled and the music lulled while they spoke the small talk of finding their way to a measure of ease.

As she brought her wineglass to her lips, the tip of her tongue glistened in the flickering light.

He listened as if his life hung in her words. She spoke to him with an ease she'd never known before, describing feelings she'd never been able to voice. Till now. And how good it felt.

There was something in the way he asked that unleashed a purging. She took him from New York across the continent of Europe to Asia and back to New York and the death of her brother by an act of random violence. Her naked honesty freed from him a flock of feelings of his own.

Her eyes glimmering, she stopped to breathe and empty her glass. She reached up and pulled the makeup brush that held her hair. She shook the honey-hued mane loose and let it fall around her neck. She tucked her silent chin, hair veiled across her eyes. He watched and barely breathed. Her voice came softly out of the shadows, an alien sound from another time, a distant, melancholy plea for understanding. “He was so much more than my brother. We were like twins. We knew what the other was thinking…” She cut herself off, took a huge breath and blew it out. “Wow. You're a good listener.”