Wild Sorrow (25 page)

I put the car in gear and said, “Where are you headed?”

He turned his head and looked at me blankly. “I am not headed no place.”

“Well”—I made a little noise in my throat—“where would you like me to take you?”

He continued to stare at me without expression. “Do you have a TV?”

I shifted back into park. “No, Tom. I don't have a TV. Why do you ask?”

“I like TV.”

“Are you okay, Tom? Do you want me to take you to the hospital?”

“No.”

“How about the church? Or to your sponsor's house?”

“Did you ever watch Howdy Doody?”

I shook my head. “No, I . . . that was before my time, I think.”

“On Saturday afternoon, if we did not have no trouble that week, they let us watch TV sometimes. We watched Howdy Doody.”

“You mean at the school?”

“Yes.”

I was quiet a minute, wondering what to do. I didn't know Tom Leaves His Robe well enough to know what his norm was, but even so, I thought he seemed confused today, perhaps depressed. He didn't appear drunk, or smell like he usually did when he was drinking. I was concerned. “I tell you what. I'm going to take you out to the pueblo. We'll go see if we can find your sponsor.” I put the Blazer back in drive and started down the Paseo del Pueblo, the main drag in Taos.

“All the boys like to play Wild West. Cowboys and Indians.”

I smiled at the thought of little Indian boys playing cowboys and Indians, imagining that the scenarios might have played out a little differently than when white boys did.

“We all wanted to be cowboys,” he said. “Nobody wanted to be Indians.”

I made an involuntary grunt as the sadness of this thought hit me. It hurt my heart to hear what he said. I shook my head.

“I want to get out here,” he said, as we stopped for the light at the plaza. He opened the door, then turned and handed me the boxed Howdy Doody doll. “Do I owe you money?”

“No, Tom, you don't owe me money. Do you need some money?” I reached into the pocket of my jeans and pulled out a five. “Here. Get a hot meal.”

He took the money, and I helped him unfasten the seat belt. He got out of the car just as the light was turning green. “Thank you for the ride,” he said, and he stumbled away.

Package Proposal

Even though I had told Tecolote I would leave Mountain there for the day, I decided to go and pick up the wolf over my lunch hour and bring him to the BLM and Forest Service holiday gathering scheduled for that afternoon. I was sure that everyone would be disappointed if he didn't come to the party, and a few people would bring little gifts for Mountain. And besides, I wanted to make up for my unspeakable behavior that morning.

When I was leaving the bruja's house with the wolf, Esperanza handed me a cloth bag with several items inside. “I put a little
carne de cabra
in there for Montaña.”

“Good. He loves goat. Or did you mean antelope?” I had heard the locals use the term
la cabra
interchangeably to mean either one.

“
Sí,
some goat meat. And I made a little soup for you, to help you. And there is a
cajeta
of
mermelada de manzana,
you know, the sauce from those apples we get down there by the river. I cooked up many of those apples before the winter. You can put it on some hot bread, Mirasol. Together, this will help you to get your strength back.”

 

On the way back to Taos, I talked to the wolf while he lay in the back of the Blazer. “I'm sorry, buddy,” I said. “I'm going to make it up to you. I know you get bored when I don't take you out and run with you, and you take your frustration out on the things around you. I'm so sorry I hit you, Mountain.”

He held his head upright and looked out the windows, ignoring my attempts to make up to him.

I kept talking. “I'm going to have Charlie Dorn's guys come out and build you an enclosure. We'll make it as big as we can so you'll have a place where you can be outside, where you can smell things and feel the wind, where you can run around a little bit when I can't go running with you.”

Mountain gazed out the window as if he were fascinated with the side of the road whizzing past.

“I hate putting you on a chain. I can't stand it. This way you can be outside more and get exercise, be stimulated. But I'll never leave you out there when I'm not home. I want you to be safe, and I just couldn't trust that you'd be safe if I'm not there. So it's just so you can play outside when I'm at home, okay? I'll still always try to take you with me, and if I can't, I'll leave you in the house, where you'll be safe. And I'll never leave you for very long, I promise.”

Finally, Mountain put his chin on the back of the passenger seat. I glanced over at him and he was looking at me. There was hurt in his eyes. Mistrust. I could feel it.

My lip started to quiver. “We'll get through this, buddy,” I said.

When Mountain and I arrived, the party at the BLM was already in full swing. All the employees from the Forest Service office next door had come over to join in this combined agency event. The mood was festive, the conversation was loud and boisterous, and Christmas music played from a little boom box. Several tables boasted a gourmet spread of potluck delicacies. The gang welcomed Mountain and slipped him treats from the tables over my protestations—meatballs, an occasional cold cut or bit of cheese.

The Boss came over with a beverage in his hand and offered it to me. “Ginger ale, right? That's your favorite?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“I wish I would have been here last night when—”

“It's all right.”

“I saw your Jeep.”

Here it came: Roy maintained that I could conjure trouble out of thin air, and that whatever vehicle I drove was cursed with certain doom. Unfortunately, events had proved this out. In the past several years, I had managed to demolish several Jeeps and get myself into deadly danger more than a few times.

“Are you all right?”

I eyed him cautiously. “Yes. I wasn't in the car when—”

“Good,” he said, and he winked and raised his own glass. “Merry Christmas.”

“You're not going to chew me out about the Jeep?”

“Not today.”

“Wow. Well, in that case, I have a present for you.” I went to the little artificial Christmas tree that had been set up on a card table in the lobby and pulled out the package I had placed beneath it earlier, when I had come in. I brought it back and handed it to Roy.

He smiled. “What's this?”

“Open it.”

The Boss ripped open the newspaper I had tied around his gift. He held up the braided horsehair hatband with its silver conch and horsetail end. “Did you make this?” he asked. “Must have taken you hours.”

I smiled.

Roy whipped off his cowboy hat and removed the simple leather band, replacing it with the new one I had made. “You got the color just right,” he said. “Thanks a lot.” He shoved the hat back over his head and looked down at me. “How do I look?”

“Good.” I smiled. “That suits you.”

“Wait. I got something for you, too.” He headed across to the Christmas tree and picked up a sack from the floor beside the table. He came back and held the open paper grocery bag in front of me. Inside were several dozen small, colorfully wrapped packages. “Get yourself one,” he said. “Let's see what you get.”

I reached in and picked up one of the little parcels.

“Open it.”

I did as I was told. It was a small, orange plastic pocketknife, no longer than my pinky. “Thanks,” I said, thinking this would end up in the kitchen drawer along with most of the other little gadgets Roy had given me over the years.

“That one there's a special little tool,” Roy said. “Open it up.”

I pulled the blade, folding it out from the handle. It had a hook at the end and was curved, unlike a regular pocket knife.

“It's a seat belt cutter.” The Boss beamed. “If your car gets submerged in water, or if you're in some kind of wreck where you can't get to the seat belt latch, that will get you out. You put that little elastic thing over your gearshift knob, or on your key chain, whatever works so you have it handy when you're in the car.”

“That's neat,” I said, trying not to laugh. I couldn't imagine a way that my car could become submerged in water in the high desert of northern New Mexico, unless I drove it off the Rio Grande Bridge, and even then, I was pretty sure the eight-hundred-foot fall would kill me before I had to worry about getting out of my seat belt. “Thanks again.” I smiled.

“You got a good one. I'm glad you like it. I'll just pass these other goodies out to the gang.” Roy proceeded to walk the sack around the room as if he were Santa Claus, inviting everyone present to take one of the little packages. I enjoyed watching as each gift was opened. There were tiny compasses and bear bells, hiker's whistles and bottle openers, compact ice scrapers and miniature thermometers that hooked on the zipper of a coat and affirmed that it was cold enough outside to need the garment. As they opened their packages, the recipients feigned surprise that the Boss had given them yet another little tool, as he did every year. And Roy was having the time of his life, explaining the versatility of each little item, often demonstrating its use. It was such fun to see him so happy.

I noticed Mountain nibbling at a piece of cheese from a plate on the corner of the food table. I dashed over and grabbed his collar, remembering to be gentle even though he deserved some discipline. “All right, buddy,” I said, leading him toward the door. “You can't be trusted, and besides, you've had enough. I'm putting you in the car to sleep it off.”

I was headed back inside when I saw Kerry pull into the parking lot in front. He tapped his horn and waved at me. I waited outside, unsure of how to greet him after what had transpired between us the night before. He got out of the truck and walked toward me, and I felt the undeniable pleasure of seeing his familiar silhouette. His body was long and lean, and he always looked ruggedly attractive to me in his boots and jeans, his ranger hat, even his just-worn-enough-to-be-tough-looking coat. “Wait,” he said as he approached. “Just let me say one thing. Just one thing.”

I waited.

“I'm sorry.” He came close.

“That's the one thing?”

He reached a hand to touch my arm, then decided better. “I am sorry. I'm sorry that you found out about the job before I had a chance to tell you. I was going to tell you.”

“Yeah. Okay.” I turned to go in.

Kerry put his hand gently around my arm. His eyes looked into mine. “I wanted to ask you to go with me if I got the job, so I was waiting to hear because I wanted to make it a package proposal.”

“A what?”

“I wanted to ask you to come with me. If I get the job, I want to take you with me. I was just waiting to hear for sure before I asked. But now that you know . . .”

I was stunned. As I stood on the sidewalk in front of the doors to the BLM, my lover looking into my eyes, I took a journey. I imagined waking up in the same bed with Kerry every day, the two of us hiking with Mountain, sharing meals, sitting by the fire, watching sunsets . . .

“I don't want to leave you. I don't ever want to leave you,” Kerry said, bringing me back to the moment where the two of us stood in the cold afternoon air outside the place where I had worked for seven—nearly eight—years.

“I don't want you to leave either,” I said.

Kerry embraced me and looked into my eyes for so long that I started to swoon. Then he brushed my forehead with his lips and kissed my eyelids, and I felt myself melt into the warmth of his chest. As his lips touched mine, I felt a nudge against my thigh. I looked down. Mountain was sitting beside me, wagging his tail. “How did you get out of the car?” I said.

A few minutes later, Kerry and I had examined the Chevy and found the rear hatch and the other doors locked, except for one rear passenger door, which was standing open. Kerry flipped the handle on the door several times. “All I can think is that he must have stepped on the handle just right and it opened the door. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, you couldn't do that when it was locked. The mechanism is just worn on this old door.”

I reached in and hooked the elastic band of Roy's little seat belt cutter over the gearshift knob. “Great,” I said. “The wolf can now open the car door.”

“No, I don't think so, not every time.” He flipped the handle again several times. “Look, it had to be a fluke, because most of the time, it doesn't trip the lock. He just got lucky. I've pushed down on it at least forty or fifty times and it's only given once.”

 

Back inside at the party, I smiled and made small talk in one corner of the room while I watched Kerry moving smoothly through the crowd, shaking hands and slapping backs with the men, giving the women hugs and smiles. Friends hurried to bring him offerings of food to taste. Someone got him a drink. Roy hastened over with his sack of gifts.

With Mountain snoozing on the floor beside me, his belly full of rich food, I sipped my ginger ale and flirted with the idea of commitment. But even as I watched my bang-up boyfriend with delight, complications began to cloud my mental picture. I was scheduled to begin BLM ranger training in the spring, and I had not figured out how to balance this with my responsibility and desire to care for Mountain. Even though I could envision a life with Kerry, I could not imagine that living or working anywhere else could be possible with a wolf in tow. Each time I tried, I saw us all back at my cabin: bringing in wood for the fire, making breakfast in my kitchen, Kerry and me snuggled in my big log bed with Mountain cuddled on his lambie beside it on the floor. All this felt wonderful as I pictured it, and I felt a narcotic flood of endorphins.