Sixteen and Dying (5 page)

A
NNE AWOKE BEFORE
dawn the next morning. She tossed restlessly, finally got up, dressed, and headed down to the main lodge. Maggie Donaldson glanced up. “Morning,” Maggie said with a broad, friendly smile. “You’re up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“You’ll be so tired by this time tomorrow, we’ll have to shake you awake.”

Anne saw some of the kitchen crew clearing away the table. “Did I miss breakfast?”

“The hands eat early so they can be about their chores. But you’ve got a few hours before the morning bell. Would you like a piece of fruit to hold you over?”

Anne plucked an apple from a fruit bowl on the table and waved at Marti, who offered a smile and exaggerated sigh. “Catch you later,” Marti said.

Anne wandered over to where Maggie was working. “I already like the ranch,” she told her. “I’ve lived in New York City all my life. It’s so different out here.”

“I’ll bet.” Maggie’s kind green eyes looked up at Anne. “I grew up out here—my Pa, Frank Lancaster, owned the next spread over. I married Don, who owned this place, and when it became impossible to make ends meet ranching alone, we decided to open the place up in the summer. Guests get a taste of the West, and we get to keep working the ranch.”

“You’ve never traveled out of Colorado?” she asked.

“Oh, I’ve been to other places, but no place I liked better.”

“Do you have family here too?”

“Just Morgan, my brother’s boy.”

Anne was curious about why Morgan wasn’t with his father. She would have thought the families would be working together. “Where’s your brother?”

Maggie looked up, catching Anne’s gaze and holding it. She said nothing, and Anne knew that she’d overstepped the boundary of small talk. Just as Anne began to feel self-conscious, Maggie said, “Why’s a pretty little girl like you sitting around jawing with an old gal like me? You should go out into that fresh air and watch the sun come up. It’s a pretty sight you’ll never forget.”

“Sometimes entire days go by and we don’t see the sun in New York City.” Anne laughed.

“Then all the more reason to see the sun come up over God’s country. When you hear that morning bell, come back for flapjacks and bacon.”

Anne walked outside. She realized Maggie had definitely changed the subject when she’d asked about Morgan’s father. She shrugged. It wasn’t any of her business anyway. Just as her life wasn’t any of theirs.

Overhead, the sky was turning gray with faint streaks of yellow and pink. She heard the sounds of men’s voices, hollering and whooping. Curious, she followed the noise and soon found herself near the corral she’d discovered the day before. A group of men hung over the fence watching. Anne edged closer, straining to see what the commotion was about.

“Come on, Morgan, show him who’s boss,” a dark-haired man called.

“He’s ornery, but you can take him,” another fellow shouted.

Anne unobtrusively slipped into an opening in the cluster of men. In the center of the corral, she saw Morgan standing in front of the big bay range horse. The horse was blindfolded and held by a taut rope around its neck. Morgan, holding the rope, was attempting to inch closer, all the while muttering soothing words to calm the frightened animal.

One of the men called out, “You can think of plenty of sweet things to say if you pretend it’s a pretty woman.”

The hands laughed, and Morgan retorted, “How would you know, Ben? The last pretty woman you talked to fainted dead away.”

Catcalls followed. Anne grasped the fence and leaned against the rough wood. She saw Morgan gather the rope tighter, until he was almost nose to
nose with the horse. He ran his gloved hand along the bay’s tense neck and said, “Take it easy, boy. I won’t hurt you.”

Anne watched as Morgan retrieved a bridle that dangled from the back pocket of his jeans. Expertly, he slipped the bit between the animal’s teeth. The horse protested, half rearing. Anne gasped, as she saw the hooves strike the air near Morgan’s head. Morgan maintained control with the rope, using his strength to force the bay down. Dirt flew from the horse’s hooves. The men shouted more encouragement.

Tossing the reins over the horse’s shoulders, Morgan stepped to one side and, catlike, sprang onto the bay’s broad bare back. A cheer went up. In the gathering light of dawn, Anne could make out the tenseness of the horse’s muscles. They looked like springs waiting to uncoil.

“Here goes nothing,” Morgan announced. He leaned forward and whipped the bandanna off the horse’s eyes. The bay struggled to dip his head and then exploded into a bucking, twisting banshee.

Morgan stayed with the horse for what Anne thought was a long time. Then, the horse flung him off, and Morgan flipped through the air and hit the ground hard on the far side of the corral. She squealed in spite of herself.

The minute the horse was relieved of his burden, he stopped bucking and began to gallop around the ring. Morgan scrambled for safety. Hands reached through the bars of the fence as the horse thundered past, and Morgan was pulled to safety. “You all right?”

Gingerly, Morgan dusted himself off. “Sure.… That was some ride.”

“What’s going on?” A man’s voice bellowed. Anne spun to see Morgan’s uncle charging toward the corral like an angry bull. “You get to your chores!” he commanded. The men slunk away.

Anne tried to vanish but was trapped by the wall of the barn. She hid in its shadows while Morgan’s uncle continued, “Not you, Morgan. You stay put.”

Anne saw Morgan bend, pick up his hat, and stand to face his uncle, squaring his shoulders in defiance. “What is it, Uncle Don?”

“What do you think you’re doing? Are you crazy?”

“Breaking in the horse. You said I could have my pick of the range ponies, and that’s the one I want.”

“You know how to break a horse proper. You break him to saddle first.
Then
you climb on. You could have gotten killed out there.”

“So what?”

“Don’t take that tone with me. Maggie would never get over it if anything happened to you.”

“Something could happen to me no matter how careful I am. Her too. You know what I mean.”

“No one can see the future, and you don’t know anything for sure,” Uncle Don said angrily. “I won’t have you taking needless chances while you’re on my spread and under my care.”

“I’m eighteen. I can come and go whenever I want.”

“You go and you’ll break your aunt’s heart.” Uncle Don ran his hand through his close-cropped hair and released a heavy sigh, his anger spent. “I don’t want to argue with you, son, but I have a ranch to
run. It might be your ranch someday. I can’t let my hands defy me—not even you, no matter if you are family. I have rules, and I expect them to be followed. If that’s the horse you want, you’ve got him, but you break him right. Fair enough?”

Morgan shoved his hands into his pockets. “Fair enough,” he agreed.

“I need you to ride out and check fencing today. Can you handle that?”

“I can handle it.”

Anne sensed a thick tension coming from Morgan. She held her breath and hugged the wall tighter. If either of them caught her eavesdropping, she’d be embarrassed to death. She hadn’t meant to listen but now that she had, she found Morgan more intriguing than ever.

She couldn’t help wondering if one summer would be enough time for her to figure him out. One summer. It was all she had.

B
Y THE END
of the day, Anne realized Maggie hadn’t exaggerated about how tired she’d be. She stifled a yawn at the dinner table. “Maybe you’re overdoing the outdoors routine,” her father suggested anxiously. “Maybe you should take it easy, rest more.”

Anne didn’t bother to argue with him. “What do you know about the outdoors? While the rest of us went on a trail ride, you sat in the cabin with your eyes glued to your computer screen.”

“I’m doing a paper for a journal on medieval lifestyles. I have a deadline to meet,” he said. “I’m sure there’ll be another ride tomorrow.”

“Will you make that one?”

“Would you miss me if I skipped it?”

Anne hugged him to answer.

That night, when everyone settled around a large
campfire to hear a cowboy tell tall tales, Marti slipped in beside Anne. “Having fun?” she asked.

“Yes, but I ache all over.”

“That’s normal. After my first day on a horse, my buns were so sore, I could hardly stand.”

Anne smiled. She didn’t say that she’d ridden often in Central Park on horses she rented. Of course, at the time, she’d ridden hunt seat on English-style saddles, which was different from the wider western saddle style, but the same part of her anatomy was involved. “I enjoyed the trail ride,” Anne said. “I wish you could have come along.”

Marti picked up a stick and drew circles in the dirt. “Skip wants me to ride out somewhere with him and have a picnic.”

“You don’t sound very enthusiastic. I’ve seen Skip—he’s cute.”

“I don’t think I should.”

“Why not?”

“Actually, I think Skip’s cute, too, and he’s really nice to me. But if I really love Peter, then I shouldn’t be attracted to Skip, should I?”

Anne watched Marti nibble nervously on her lower lip. “Why not? You’re not engaged to Peter, and you think he might date other girls this summer. Why shouldn’t you date Skip? Isn’t this one of the reasons you’re out here—to see if your relationship with Peter is the real thing? I mean, if he loves you, and you love him, then dating others shouldn’t make a difference in your feelings toward each other, should it?”

Marti was looking at her, wide-eyed. “What you’re saying makes sense. I like Skip as a companion. I’d
like to get to have some fun. It’s nothing serious. Plain fun.” She perked up. “I have an idea. Why don’t you come along on the picnic?”

“I’m certain Skip wants me as a chaperon!”

“No, no, silly. His friend, Morgan, can come too.”

“Oh, I don’t think—”

“You could do worse than Morgan.” Marti batted her dark lashes as she pleaded with Anne. “As a favor for your
amiga
. That’s me. Your friend.
Por favor?”

Anne giggled. It was hard to say no to Marti. Anne couldn’t deny that she was drawn to the idea of spending time with Morgan. She wanted so much to have a good time, but she felt as if she were trying to live two lives. One, as a regular sixteen-year-old. The other, as a sixteen-year-old stricken with HIV, who had nothing in front of her but a lingering death once full-blown AIDS hit. How could she make it with so much bottled up inside her? With no one to talk to? Is that what JWC had meant by saying,
“I hoped for a miracle, but most of all I hoped for someone to truly understand what I was going through.”

“Are you okay?” Marti asked. “You checked out on me for a minute.”

“Sorry. All this talk about romance made me hyperventilate,” she quipped, to hide what she couldn’t reveal. “Don’t worry. I’ve got it under control now.”

Marti burst out laughing. “Anne, you’re so funny! I’ll bet you’re the life of the party at your school.”

“That’s me—party girl.”

“Then it’s settled,” Marti said. “I’ll tell Skip you’re coming on our picnic, and he’ll tell Morgan. We’re
going to have so much fun, Anne. Wait and see. A real
fiesta.”

Anne figured that Morgan would probably nix the whole idea. Marti tossed the stick into the campfire, and Anne, deep in thought, watched the flames devour it.

At the end of the first week, Anne’s father informed her, “I’ve made an appointment this coming Monday with Dr. Rinaldi, the specialist you’re supposed to see here. I’ve asked Maggie Donaldson if I can use the station wagon to drive you into Denver.”

“Dad, how could you? I don’t want to see a doctor. Besides, Monday is another trail ride, and I don’t want to miss it.”

“Anne, this isn’t up for debate. You have to be evaluated. You must stay on top of your medical condition as long as you’re in Colorado.”

“Well, I hate it, and I don’t want to think about it.”

“It’s not going to go away.”

“I, of all people, know it’s not going away.” The pain in his eyes made her sorry she’d lashed out at him. “All right,” she said, feeling remorseful. “I’ll go. But I don’t have to like it.”