by Carolyn Hart
“Oh Danny,” she said cheerfully, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you. Don’t you think we should go ahead with the annual Fourth of July rodeo and barbecue?”
“Oh sure, Serena, sure. Hey, I’d forgotten about it.” A faint flush of excitement touched his cheeks. “Hey, do you think Joe will let me ride Buster in the calf roping?”
“Gee, I don’t know,” she said slowly. She didn’t want to discourage him but she felt sure he wasn’t strong enough yet to try that event. “Is Buster really ready for it?”
“Oh, yeah. Yeah, Buster’s great.”
She was smiling by the time Danny finished. “Well, we’ll see.”
“Aw, Serena, I can do it.”
Serena picked up another halter and reached for an awl. She knew Danny was watching her closely. She let him break the silence.
“Hey, Serena?”
“Yes.”
“You won’t go away again, will you?” There was, toward the end of his sentence, a very tiny tremor in his voice.
“Of course not,” she said quickly, firmly. She looked directly in his eyes. “I promise you, Danny. I won’t go away.”
“They can’t make you leave again?”
Surprise must have shown in her face.
“I know what happened,” he said quickly. “I heard Julie telling you to go that morning.”
“Oh.” Serena didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to drive a wedge between Danny and his cousin, but she couldn’t lie.
He saved her the trouble of answering when he said angrily, “It’s all Peter’s fault.”
Serena laid down the awl. “Danny, what makes you say that?”
He looked at her uncertainly. “Do you like Peter?”
Serena avoided his eyes. “Actually, Danny, I don’t know Peter very well. I met him last summer when he came here as a dude. Then he and Julie fell in love and were married in the fall.”
“You hung around with him a lot last summer.”
Childish eyes see so much.
Serena stared down at the halter, picked up the awl, and began to turn it against the leather strap. “Yes, I suppose that’s true. Still, I don’t feel like I know him very well.” And that, she thought, was a fair enough statement.
“He doesn’t want you to stay at Castle Rock.”
“How do you know that?” Serena asked sharply.
“I heard him tell Julie to get rid of you. It was the night before she told you to get out of your room.”
Danny put it simply with a kind of brutal clarity. That was exactly what Julie had told her.
“Peter wanted me gone?”
Danny nodded. “He was talking to Julie under the magnolia tree. I was up pretty high and they didn’t see me but I could hear them. He said . . .” Danny paused, and then his voice took on a deeper crisp tone, and Serena knew he was remembering Peter’s very words, “‘We need to get rid of Serena. Then we can have the ranch to ourselves.’”
“I see.”
“Serena, what about me?” Danny’s voice was suddenly young and thin and vulnerable again. “What were they going to do with me?”
“Oh Danny, you don’t need to worry. You don’t ever need to worry. If I left, Julie and Peter would take care of you. The ranch belongs to you. You don’t ever have to worry about your place at Castle Rock.”
Danny’s lower lip jutted out. “I don’t want to stay with Peter and Julie. I don’t like Peter.”
This wouldn’t do. Julie was Danny’s cousin and Peter was his cousin’s husband. Serena managed a laugh. “Hey Danny, simmer down. You’re borrowing trouble. Don’t you remember how your Granddad always told us not to borrow trouble. Well, that’s pretty good advice. Now, I can tell you’ve been sitting around with too much time to think and not enough good things to think about. And I’m up to my ears in work and need a deputy, so you are going to be my man. Seriously, Danny,” and she suddenly spoke as one adult to another, “I need your help with the Fourth rodeo. I want you to talk to Joe and tell him we need to bring in a bunch of wild horses. Why don’t you organize that round-up, and I’ll get in to Santa Fe to see about the fireworks and the prizes.”
After Danny left in high excitement to search for Joe Walkingstick, Serena stared thoughtfully out the door.
Peter wanted her off the ranch. Obviously Julie did what Peter wanted. That shouldn’t surprise her, but somehow it did.
Why should Peter and Julie want to stay at Castle Rock? All Julie talked about was Cannes and St. Moritz and Acapulco. Peter had certainly never shown any great interest in the ranch. He did ride out fairly often, but he never asked about the herds or water or the outlook for beef prices.
It didn’t make sense.
Especially not the fact that Peter wanted Serena off the ranch. Why? Did he want to take over the management? But that would just be a lot of hard work, and it wouldn’t be possible to cheat Danny because the lawyer for the estate would keep a careful accounting of all monies. Besides, Peter and Julie apparently had a great deal of money because Peter didn’t have to work.
Personal dislike? Somehow, Serena doubted it. She had never, she thought with grim honesty, affected Peter that powerfully, one way or the other.
But the fact that Peter was behind Julie’s effort to rid the ranch of Serena seemed just another indication that nothing was normal at Castle Rock this summer.
Serena twisted the awl, making the final hole in the strap, then she lifted her head and listened. Hurrying, she hung up the repaired bridle and went to the door of the tack room.
The two professors, hot, dusty, and weary, were coming down the path, carrying their saddles. They smiled when they saw Serena. She smiled in return and held the door for them.
“It looks like you’ve had a hard ride.”
“Hot out there this afternoon,” Morris replied, his round face flushed and sweaty.
“Oh, did you ride out into the flats?”
Morris was swinging his saddle upon its hook. He paused and looked at VanZandt before answering, and Serena knew what flashed through both their minds. It wouldn’t be hot riding the trails up into the mountains, but hardly anyone would pick a blazing afternoon to ride out into the scrub country.
“I suppose we’re just out of shape,” VanZandt interposed smoothly. “Actually, we usually go up toward Lynx Lake, but it can take it out of old duffers like us.”
They didn’t look like old duffers. They looked fit, tanned, and hardy.
“It’s nice,” Serena observed mildly, “that you are able to take time away from your book and get out to ride.”
Morris looked at her sharply, but her face was bland and pleasant.
“I wish we could concentrate on the scenery,” Morris responded, “but we are really just a mobile work room. We do revisions as we ride.”
Serena just looked at him. She was, she thought irritably, not that damned dumb. Nobody, short of Einstein, could revise a physics text verbally. “Are you almost finished?”
“Oh no,” Morris said hastily, “we have a lot left to do.”
“It’s really very exciting,” Serena said eagerly. “I would so much like to see some of the text.” She paused. “I enjoyed physics so much when I was in school.” Put that in your pipe, she thought with a spurt of pleasure.
There was a blank silence for a moment, then VanZandt said cheerfully, “We would love to show it off, but, unfortunately, there’s a clause in our contract prohibiting us from showing it to anyone but the publisher. I suppose they’re trying to make sure that we don’t let portions get pirated.”
“That’s curious,” Serena said with a total lack of inflection.
“Unusual, perhaps,” VanZandt responded pleasantly. “Well, Serena, we really are enjoying our stay here at Castle Rock.”
Morris smiled and nodded as they turned to leave the stable.
Serena looked after them. Such charming, civilized men. She waited until they were out of sight, then she hurried into the stables.
The professors were
riding Black Alice and Jumping Joy. If they had been ridden as hard as the men claimed, they should still be grooming them. But the horses stood comfortably in their stalls, looking up to whinny as she came close. She leaned over the railing, touched Jumping Joy on his neck, ran a hand along his back. It was as cool and dry as windswept rock.
“Something wrong with Jumping Joy?”
Serena swung around, startled. Jed stood, hands on hips, watching her.
“No,” she said flatly. “There’s nothing wrong with Jumping Joy. He’s quite cool. I’d say he hardly had a workout today.”
“Who’s riding him?”
“VanZandt.”
“Well, I suppose the professors are too busy to spend much time riding.” Jed’s tone indicated a profound lack of interest in the topic.
“To the contrary,” Serena said softly. “The professors told me they had ridden hard this afternoon.”
Jed frowned. “But you say Jumping Joy . . .”
“. . . has scarcely been ridden at all.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I. But it sure makes me wonder what the professors did this afternoon to make them so hot and dirty.”
She watched Jed closely, trying to read his expression. If he was one of the smugglers, and it made her feel sick to think of it, then he had to have help. This couldn’t be a one-man show. She tried to interpret the sudden look of surprise that went as quickly as it came. Then he frowned and she had no difficulty recognizing sheer exasperation.
“For Christ’s sake, Serena, are you busy playing detective?”
She didn’t answer.
He reached out, gripped her arms so tightly they ached. “Stop it, Serena. Stop it. Or something bad may happen to you.”
“Come on, Danny, let’s race,” Serena shouted.
Danny didn’t even take time to answer. Instead, he leaned low over Buster’s neck, gave him a kick, and the race was on.
Serena laughed as she and Hurricane thundered after the small boy clinging like a burr to the back of his plunging horse.
The horses’ hooves thundered and the world closed in to the feel of Hurricane beneath her and the sound of his breath, heavy and strained, and the whirling swirl of dust flowing up and around the two horses and the tearing pressure of wind in her face and the indescribable sense of elation welling up in her. As they thundered toward the corral, Serena called out, “The well pump,” and she could see Danny nod.
Danny and Buster were just a nose ahead when they streaked by the rusted handle of the old well pump, which had served so long to fill the troughs with water before electricity came to the ranch.
She and Danny reined in slowly, letting Buster and Hurricane ease from a gallop into a trot and then a walk. Both horses’ sides heaved, but their eyes glistened with excitement.
“I won,” Danny shouted. “I won.”
She reached over and squeezed his shoulder. “That was a good race, Danny, a wonderful race.”
His face flushed with happiness. Danny smiled and she smiled, too. It was wonderful to see him looking like a little boy again, without a trace of strain or worry.
“Hey, Serena.” Danny turned in his saddle to look at her. “Do you ride out to Castle Rock every day?”
She hesitated, then nodded.
“Can I come along tomorrow like I did today?”
Again she hesitated, but so far, and she had been going for a week, Castle Rock looked just as it always had, and she was beginning to think that her conviction that the mystery plane would return must be mistaken, so she nodded again. “Sure, Danny. You are always welcome.”
They dismounted and cooled down their horses, cleaning and brushing until both shone like highly polished glass. Danny chattered on about the Fourth and the ribbon he was sure he would win, and Serena listened, delighting in his pleasure and in the feel of Hurricane beneath her hands and the warmth of sunlight on her back. She was, she realized, gloriously happy, enjoying this afternoon as though none of the odd happenings that had clouded the summer mattered at all. Perhaps she was only imagining some of her fears. Perhaps they were the product of worry and grief. Perhaps everything was really all right. Everything seemed right this afternoon. Not far away she could hear the blacksmith’s hammer. The leaves of the huge cottonwood next to the corral rustled like dancers’ slippers. Even the sound of someone, probably Peter or Mr. Minter, hitting golf balls on the range sounded pleasant and happy.
She finished grooming Hurricane first and turned to lead him into the stables. Danny was on one knee, checking Buster’s left rear hoof.
“Hurry up, Danny, so we won’t be late for dinner.”
But she wasn’t really in a hurry. She hated to see this lovely day come to an end, this day touched with joy, free of dark imaginings. She was smiling as she led Hurricane toward his stall. She was only a few feet into the stable when she stopped and looked around, her smile slipping away.
The horses were spooked. All of them. They moved uneasily in their stalls. Toward the back, in the stall next to Hurricane’s, Devilwood was kicking the wall, and the heavy ominous sound reverberated through the wooden stables like thunder.
“Devilwood!” she shouted.
Then Hurricane turned fractious, dancing sideways, pulling back against the halter. She gave a yank and, unwillingly, he came. The last ten yards to his stall, Hurricane twisted and pulled, and it took all her strength to force him to come.
“Hurricane, what in the world is wrong with you?”
Perhaps a storm was coming. Sometimes the horses turned nervy when the dark heavy thunderclouds built up in the western sky. But the sky was clear this afternoon.
Serena sighed. Suddenly, she was tired and irritated and ready to be done with this. She gave another yank to Hurricane’s halter, shoved open the door to his stall and stepped inside.
Hurricane’s ears flattened. His nostrils widened. Abruptly, he reared, twisted, and pulled free of her grasp.
“Hurri . . .”
She never finished.
Serena knew even before she looked down into the straw. The sound raised the hair from her skin, ran in hideous ripples in her mind, that frightful unmistakable dry husk of a sound.
The rattlesnake flicked his tail again and the high harsh warning rattle rasped in the dusty dim stall. Serena saw the undulating head, the dark raisin-shaped eyes, the deep indentations on either side of the snout. And she saw the flickering forked tongue, a tiny flash of flame in the dusky air.
In the next stall, Devilwood kicked the wall again.
The snake moved rapidly, slithered in such a panic that Serena could scarcely see the dark and sinuous body lunge across the straw then stop and rear, its head back to strike, only inches from her leg.
She stood in a macabre parody of the childish game of statues, one hand held high in the air, her breath a hard aching pressure in her lungs, her body rigid.
“Hey Serena, Buster has a rock in his shoe and I can’t . . .” Danny’s voice trailed off. “Hey, Serena . . .”
The snake, his body puffing before her eyes, rattled his tail, and the piercing warning exploded again.
Serena heard Danny’s boots thudding down the aisle and his high scream for help, but she could only stand there, frozen in fear, her heart thudding unevenly, her eyes watching that blunt triangular head and the brilliant red tongue, a tiny flickering tongue of death. She breathed shallowly, each breath a victory.
Slowly, gradually, the snake sank back into a loose coil, alert but no longer poised to strike.
Sweat trickled down her face. Inside she felt cold as ice.
Could she step back? Did she dare move?
Devilwood stepped uneasily in the next stall and whinnied deep in his throat.
The rattler raised its head.
Such horribly empty eyes, small and dark and unblinking.
Slowly, with infinite patience, Serena lifted her left foot to take a backward step. She expected, of course, to step back onto the
slightly downward sloping cement floor. The heel of her boot instead came down on the handle of a rake. She teetered for an instant, her balance lost, then, like a marionette yanked backward, she fell, landing hard on her hip. But she didn’t even feel the pain that jolted through her.
She knew, had time to realize, that the snake was going to strike. She could hear, so near it sounded like a buzz saw, the frantic rattle of its rings. She glimpsed the snout in the air above her and the ruby red tongue. Horror engulfed her. The rattlesnake was going to lunge at her throat and now there wasn’t anything in the world she could do to save herself . . .
The roar of the rifle echoed in the closed building. Horses whinnied in fear, their hooves thundered against their stalls.
The snake, raised in full striking posture, hung headless in the dusky air for a long moment before it twisted and jerked and fell across Serena.
She screamed and screamed and screamed again.
Then Jed was there, using the rifle barrel to lift and toss away the still writhing body. Kneeling down, he caught Serena up in his arms. She clung to him, shaking, tears streaming down her face.
“It’s all right, it’s all right,” he murmured over and over again. She pressed against him, holding to warmth and safety, trying not to remember the feel of that hideous headless body as it fell across her.
“It’s okay, Serena. Everything’s all right. You don’t have to be frightened now.”
Finally, her breath still coming in uneven gulps, she pulled back to look up into his face. “If you hadn’t come . . . if you hadn’t . . .”
In the gloom of the stables, his face was white and drawn. “If Danny hadn’t yelled . . .” He turned to look down at the rattler. “Godalmighty, he was striking. That damn snake was striking!”
“I got Jed,” Danny was saying importantly, “I got Jed.”
Yes, Serena thought weakly, if it hadn’t been for Danny . . . She shuddered and looked at Jed.
He was still staring down at the twisted body of the snake.
“That’s good shooting,” she said shakily.
“I’m a good shot,” he said absently, but still he stared at the snake.
“You saved me.”
