by Kelly Wacker
Melissa listened to Sula attentively, admiring her passion. “What was it that John Muir said? When we tug at one thing, we find it connected to everything else in the universe.”
“Yes, exactly.” Sula smiled at Melissa like a professor pleased with her student’s understanding.
“Oh, hey.” Melissa pointed at a nearby BearCam monitor. “Something’s going on in this one.” A black bear was gnawing on the trunk of a tree.
“That’s Old Bob. He’s marking the tree. He’ll rub on it, scratch, and bite it. The marks let everyone know they’re in his territory.”
“For a moment I thought maybe he had some kind of species confusion.” Melissa looked up at Sula, who seemed confused, so she explained. “He was acting like a beaver.”
Sula laughed. “Oh, I think he knows he’s a bear.” A dark look crossed her face. “He was hit by a car and lost his vision in his right eye and has some nerve damage. You know, cars kill more black bears than hunters do every year.”
“No. I didn’t realize that.” Melissa wanted to erase the sad expression on Sula’s face. “Bob’s lucky to be alive and to be here.”
“It would be best if he could be out in the wild.” Sula gazed at the bear on the monitor with sympathy. “But this is certainly better than the alternative.”
Melissa didn’t ask what Sula meant, but she was pretty sure she knew that the alternative was grim.
Sula glanced at her watch. “Well, I guess we should probably talk about what brought you here. We can go up to my office. Would you like a cup of coffee?” Sula’s face lit up. “We have cinnamon rolls today, too.”
“I have little resistance to either of those things.”
“You’re in the right place, then.” Sula directed her to the elevator and to the offices upstairs.
Melissa met her administrative assistant, a pleasant young woman named Anna. She called Sula “Boss,” which seemed old-fashioned and endearing. It struck Melissa that Anna behaved like a puppy dog around Sula. Her face lit up when she saw her, and she seemed eager to please. Melissa wondered if young Anna might have a little crush on Sula. It was certainly understandable.
“The break room is this way.” Sula gestured down the hall.
Melissa was as impressed with the office space as she was with the visitors’ center downstairs. Photographs of bears hung on walls painted a pale-yellow ochre. The flooring was marvelous: bluish wood with a marbled pattern.
“What kind of wood is this? It’s beautiful.”
“Beetle-kill pine.” Sula stopped and put her hands on her hips and regarded the floor. “The more palatable name for it is blue-stain pine. The beetle that bores into the trees carries a fungus that helps it absorb nutrients. The fungus causes the color. If trees are harvested within a few years after they die, they can be used for lumber. Unfortunately, more and more trees are ‘producing’ this wood every year.”
“A terrible beauty,” Melissa remarked and shook her head as she stared at the floor. She knew that the pine beetle was ravaging forests, and when driving to Buckhorn she had seen dead, brown splotches on the otherwise green mountainsides. When she glanced up, Sula was looking at her again with that intense gaze, causing a butterfly flutter in her chest. A creeping warmth rose to her cheeks.
“Coffee?”
“Please,” Melissa said, following Sula. She smelled the cinnamon rolls in the break room before they even walked through the door.
“Cream or sugar?” Sula asked as she poured coffee.
“Black is great, thanks.” Melissa took the cup that Sula offered.
Melissa watched as Sula added cream and honey to her coffee. She lifted two rolls from the box, putting each one on a small plate with a fork, and handed one to Melissa. They carried their coffee and rolls to Sula’s office, which was large with two windows, one with a gorgeous view outside and the other overlooking the atrium in the visitors’ center. It was neatly arranged and furnished with an interesting mix of old and new. On one side sat a gleaming, vintage, craftsman-style oak desk with a high-tech mesh office chair. On the other stretched a sitting area with modern leather and chrome chairs and couch arranged around a contemporary glass table that had cast-bronze legs resembling elk antlers. Melissa wanted to inspect several photographs of bears and two paintings more closely, but Sula gestured for her to sit down by the table.
“My God, this cinnamon roll is amazing,” Melissa said after her first bite.
“They’re from the bakery next door to the grocery store. Their pecan rolls are good, too.” Sula settled in one of the chairs, crossing her long legs, and sat back.
“Oh, I wish I didn’t know that. I’ll have to do two hikes a day instead of one.” Sula laughed, and Melissa enjoyed the low and smooth, sensual sound.
“So, are you enjoying your stay at the ranch?” Sula asked between bites.
“Yes. Very much. It’s so beautiful there, and Betty is wonderful. I’m so glad to have met her.”
“You know, she’s an old friend of the family. In fact, I really consider her more family than friend.”
“Betty said I should talk with you about my research project, but she didn’t offer any explanation as to why. Has she told you what I’m working on?”
Sula leaned forward, putting her plate on the table, and picked up her cup. Then she leaned back, regarding Melissa with an intensity that made Melissa feel as if she was being assessed in some way. She met Sula’s piercing gaze.
“Betty said you’re an art historian working on a research project…” Sula took a sip of coffee slowly. “And that you are interested in my great-grandmother’s paintings.”
It took a moment for Melissa to process what Sula had just said—she was the artist’s great-granddaughter. Her jaw dropped and she was speechless.
Melissa’s silent reaction, the stunned look on her face, let Sula know for certain that the professor didn’t know about her familial connection to Ursula Bergen. Sula surprised herself at being so forthright with Melissa. She’d planned to answer a few questions and keep her at a safe distance. Betty was right that there was something special about her. Sula had sensed it immediately when she met her in the bar the night before. When she’d taken Melissa’s hand in hers, a sensation had rippled through her that she didn’t fully understand. It almost felt like recognition, though of what she wasn’t sure. She liked how Melissa had responded to her encounter with the mountain lion, with awe, not fear. Melissa’s reaction was unusual. So many people seemed afraid of the world outside their homes. Melissa intuitively understood that Notch had little interest in her and recognized her experience as something rare to be treasured.
When Sula had first seen Melissa downstairs in the hall walking toward her, wearing a dress the color of blue columbine and with her golden hair pulled back, tendrils falling out along the sides of her face, her breath had caught in her throat. And when they’d walked through the hall together, she’d found Melissa’s attentiveness and curiosity enchanting. Sula hadn’t expected to feel so attracted to Melissa, let alone so comfortable with her—her reaction was disarming. Melissa was disarming.
Melissa sat staring at Sula and finally stammered, “Ursula Bergen was your great-grandmother?”
Sula nodded. “I was named after her, but I’ve been called Sula, short for Ursula, for as long as anyone can remember.”
Melissa looked at her blankly and blinked. She had beautiful green eyes.
“I have so many questions, and now I don’t even know where to begin.”
“Take your time. I don’t have any other appointments today.” Sula looked at her over the rim of her cup. “Why don’t you tell me about how you know about her and her paintings.”
Melissa looked thoughtful for a moment, then began. “My grandmother owned three paintings by Ursula—” Melissa interrupted herself. “I’ve been calling her that, by her first name, I mean. Do you mind?”
“It’s her given name. I don’t see a problem.”
“Well, I grew u
p seeing them when I spent time at my grandparents’ house. My grandmother inherited them from her mother, my great-grandmother.”
“What was her name?”
“Evelyn Llewellyn.”
Sula didn’t recognize the name. “Go on.”
“I just always loved looking at them, and I studied them, you know, the way kids do. I noticed all the little details that adults gloss over, and I imagined myself in those places or invented stories that took place there. I stopped doing that as I got older, but I was always so fond of them. They might have led me to become an art historian. When my grandmother died, about a year ago, I inherited them from her. I’d wanted to do research on them even before inheriting them. I never expected that I’d find much about them or the artist. Luckily, she’d signed the back of the paintings. I was hopeful that by coming here I might find more paintings and thought perhaps I could find out just enough about Ursula to write a short essay that the local historical society might like for their archives. A local magazine might even want to publish it. But really, my interest in them is entirely personal.”
Melissa’s green eyes sparkled as she spoke, her enthusiasm infectious. Sula realized she was smiling as she listened. She recalled Betty’s observation that Melissa didn’t seem to be motivated by anything other than curiosity, and Sula agreed.
“Have you been to the historical society?”
“Yes. The people there were nice, but the museum is really cluttered, and their archives are spotty and not well organized. I didn’t find anything.”
“How did you know to look for her here in Buckhorn?”
“Her name was registered in the Buckhorn census records of 1920 and 1930.”
Sula stood, gesturing to the wall where two paintings hung. “Would you like to see another painting by her?”
“Ah.” Melissa grinned, pointing to one of them. “I knew there was a reason that caught my eye.”
Melissa followed her, standing close, and peered at the painting of a tall, narrow waterfall that cascaded into a pool flanked by pines, a large boulder in the foreground. “A watercolor. Interesting. My three are oils.”
Sula caught the scent of Melissa’s perfume. She smelled good.
Melissa looked at the side of the wood frame. “Is this frame sealed? Could I look at the back of the painting?”
“Sure.” Sula reached out and lifted the painting from the wall. She turned it around, revealing that the back was sealed with gray paper. “I had this framed when I got it from my parents…it must have been fifteen years ago. I don’t remember if there was anything on the back.” She pulled a small brass knife from her pocket and opened it.
“Are you sure you don’t mind?” Melissa asked.
“Not at all. I’m curious now, too.”
Sula placed the painting facedown on the blotter on her desk. Using the knife blade, she carefully separated the paper from the back of the frame and revealed the unmarked backing board.
Melissa gestured to the metal tabs holding the board in place, “It looks like the framer used glazer’s points. They’re shallow, so you should be able to slide them out easily.”
Sula slid the blade in between the wood frame and the metal tabs and, one by one, pried each point out. She closed the knife, put it in her pocket again, and stood back. “Would you like to do the honors, Professor?”
“Really?”
“Please. Go right ahead.”
Sula enjoyed watching Melissa. With a look of concentration, she carefully lifted both the backing board and the mat with the attached painting out of the frame. At the bottom of the back of the watercolor painting were her great-grandmother’s signature and a note written in pencil.
Melissa smiled and read it aloud. “Fairy Falls, 1922. Ursula Bergen.” She looked up at Sula. “Do you know this place?”
“No. The name’s not familiar, and I don’t know of any waterfall around here as big as that one.”
Melissa turned it over and looked carefully at the picture. “This is really interesting. It’s a sketch, but the composition is well considered. Notice the boulder here in the foreground versus the view of the falls. It’s as if we’re perched on top of the rock. That’s a nice touch.” Melissa paused and narrowed her eyes. Then she looked toward the other painting on the wall. It depicted a grizzly bear standing on a rocky outcrop looking down into a valley at sunset. “Tell me about that one.”
“It’s not by my great-grandmother.”
“Yes. I know. The style is completely different. But why do you have it? And why is it hanging next to this one?”
Sula wasn’t sure what she was getting at. “I bought it at an auction in Denver a few years ago. It was right before we moved into this building, and I was looking for furniture for my new office. I was at the auction because of this desk, actually.” Sula tapped her index finger on the top of it. “That painting was also in the auction. It’s by Bob Kuhn, who was an illustrator, and was used for a cover of Field & Stream magazine in the 1960s. I know all this only because it was in the auction catalog.” Sula shrugged. “I bid on it because I liked it.”
Melissa glanced back and forth between the two pictures. “Well, it just struck me that this picture seems to be from the point of view of standing on a rock looking out, and that picture on the wall shows a bear standing on a rocky ledge looking out. You must have made that association unconsciously.”
Sula had not made that connection between the two paintings, at least not until now. Melissa’s keen observation rattled her. “That’s interesting. You’re very astute.”
“Well, I’m an art historian. It’s what I do.” Melissa laughed. “I spend a lot of time looking at art analytically.”
“Yes, I expect you do.”
“Would you like me to put this back together?”
“No. I’ll take care of it later. What about those paintings you have? Do you have pictures of them?”
“Yes. I have some with me, in fact.” Melissa flashed a smile. “You sidetracked me.” She walked back to the couch and sat down. Then she removed the folder of photographs from her bag and laid the pictures of the three paintings out on the coffee table.
Sula sat down next to her and leaned forward to inspect them. She felt Melissa watching her, but she didn’t turn to look at her. She recognized both places depicted in the two landscape paintings, and though she wasn’t an expert, she could also see the similarities to the paintings by her great-grandmother that hung in her home. Betty had mentioned the painting of a woman with a bear, and as she examined the photograph of it, it seemed less a depiction of a place and more like a scene in a story.
“If you’d like to see details, I have high-resolution digital images, but I didn’t bring my laptop.”
“Perhaps later.” Sula pointed to the image that Melissa called a river landscape. “Is this the place you hoped to find on the trail ride yesterday?”
Melissa nodded. “Yes, but that wasn’t it.”
“I know.” Sula looked at Melissa, whose expression lay somewhere between confused and expectant. She was overcome with a desire to help her, to spend more time with her. What was it about his woman? “This place is on my property, not the ranch’s. And it’s a creek, not a river. Icy Creek.” Contrary to her usual cautious behavior, something about Melissa prompted her to act rashly. “I can take you there if you like.”
“Really?” Melissa’s wide-eyed excitement shifted to a softer, more thoughtful look. “This painting hung in my grandmother’s dining room, and I spent a lot of time looking at it while playing cards with my grandmother or while seated for dinner. I’d ignore what the adults were saying and get lost in exploring the space of that painting. To say I’d love to see the place that inspired it is an understatement.”
“We can drive fairly close, but we’ll have to hike over a mile to get to it, if you’re up for that.”
“I am.” Melissa appeared eager. “I’ve been starting my days here with a short hike. I think I’ve adjusted to t
he altitude.”
“That’s good. How about Saturday? Would that work for you?”
“Absolutely!” Melissa said without hesitation and gathered the prints together, putting them back into the folder and sliding it into her bag.
“What cabin are you staying in at the ranch?”
“Aspen Glow.”
“Oh, that’s a really nice one—a classic cabin with a great view. I’ll pick you up at nine, and we can have lunch at the creek. Don’t worry about bringing anything except your water bottle. Is there anything you don’t like?”
“I’m pretty easy when it comes to food. I’m an omnivore.”
“Just like bears,” Sula said with a smile.
“Well, then I’ll be in very good company.”
“What?” Sula’s heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean?”
“I assume there are some omnivorous bears out there on your property. Maybe I’ll get to see one. That would be so exciting.”
“Oh.” Sula looked at Melissa cautiously from the corner of her eye. “Maybe.”
Chapter Ten
Sula pulled up to the lodge and parked next to Betty’s truck. She was driving her old Bronco. Since it was smaller and more agile than the pickup, it was a better vehicle for the jeep track she’d be driving on later in the morning with Melissa. Running ahead of schedule, she decided to stop by the office for a coffee with Betty.
Sula entered the lodge quietly and stuck her head through the office door. Betty was working at her desk, oblivious to her presence.
Sula let out a playful growl.
Betty jumped in her chair and spun around to see Sula standing in the doorway and grinning. “Sula!”
