A Strange Little Band

by Judith B. Glad

  "Are you sick?"

  A quick head shake. "No...no, I'm not sick. Just tired. So tired."

  Crap. I can't leave her here. He pulled out his cell, checked the display. No signal. What? You expected service out here in the boonies? "Don't move."

  She gave no sign she'd heard him, but neither did she move. When he returned, carrying his Thermos, she was where he'd left her, still staring across the hills. "Here. It's probably cold, but it's caffeine." He uncapped the stainless steel bottle, poured the last of his coffee into the lid.

  She didn't move.

  "Drink the coffee, God damn it!"

  At last her hand closed around the cup. She stared down into it.

  Clay held on to his temper. "Drink." He wrapped his hand around hers and forced the cup to her lips. Obediently she opened them. He was almost surprised to see her swallow. He'd half expected her to let the coffee dribble out of the sides of her mouth.

  After a few swallows, she took hold of the cup and pushed it away. "Thanks."

  When she wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, he noticed how richly pink and plump her lips were. "Move around now. You'll wake up faster with a little exercise. Give the caffeine a chance to work."

  He pegged her age at mid- to late twenties. His earlier impression that she might be seriously ill strengthened. Her arms hung loosely at the sides of slacks that were obviously too large. They bagged at the hips, were gathered under the elastic belt cinching her slender waist. Her skin was unlined, her throat and chin firm. But there were dark lavender smudges under her tawny brown eyes and a sad downturn to her mouth. Despite the bagginess of her clothing, he found himself too aware of her slim curves, too close to drowning in those wide, haunted eyes. What was it his dad used to say? She looked like she'd blow away in the first good breeze?

  Crap! I haven't got time for this. "Where are you headed?" he asked, hoping she lived in Fairfield or on one of the ranches hidden among these hills.

  "The ranch...the Floating Nought." Her face seemed to light up a little, as if she'd made some connection to reality. "It's north of Rexburg."

  "You're in no shape to drive that far, not without some rest." He thought rapidly, considering his options. "How about I follow you as far as Fairfield? You can get a room, rest up, before you go on."

  "Oh, no! I've got to be there today. They'll worry."

  "They'll worry a lot more if you kill yourself getting there. Let's go. I'll follow you, and if I see your car so much as wiggle, I'll give you a blast with the horns."

  "Horns?" For the first time she looked back at his pickup. "Oh. That must have been what woke me. For a second I thought I heard a train."

  He'd intended to remove the set of three bright, shiny airhorns from the almost new pickup he'd traded his BMW for, but hadn't gotten around to it. Getting ready for this trip had taken more time than he'd allowed, and he'd let a lot of nonessentials slide. Now he was glad he'd kept them. Instead of being a macho statement, they'd saved a life.

  He mentally shook himself. "Move around. Get your blood flowing." The words came out more stern than he'd intended.

  "I'll be fine, in a while. I just need a little longer to calm down." She buried her face in her hands.

  "You don't look like you'll be fine." Despite the tension he could see in her shoulders and the tendons of her too-thin forearms, he was caught by her loveliness. He revised his first estimate of her age downward by five years. And she was not so thin that she had no figure, he realized, his gaze following the vee of her shirt neckline to the deep cleavage between generous breasts.

  "No, really. I will. I'm better already." Pushing herself away from the fender, she took several steps, stopping when she rounded the hood. "Oh, my, that's glorious."

  He had to agree. The morning sunlight slanted across the hills, casting deep blue shadows and turning the dry cheatgrass to a golden carpet. A dusty gravel road branched off from where they were parked and wound snakelike along a narrow ridge, then dipped into a shadowy valley and was lost in tall sagebrush. Beyond the nearby hills, a high, dark ridge extended across half the horizon, broken here and there by jagged black scars where basalt outcrops were slowly exfoliating into skeins of dark rockfields.

  Clay looked down at her, wanting to thank her for making him pause and notice the view. He hadn't taken time to do that in a long time.

  But I'll have time soon, he promised himself. Very soon.

  "How are you doing?"

  She started. "Oh. I'm fine. Awake now. No problem. I'll just--"

  Clay opened the door of her car as she approached. "I'll follow you to Fairfield, just to make sure you don't fall asleep again." And to make sure she stopped and napped. He still thought she'd be wise to take a room and rest until tomorrow, but there was no way he could force her to. She's not my responsibility. Once I've seen her safe to Fairfield, she's on her own.

  Yeah, but if anything happened to her...

  I'd probably never know. Deliberately he pushed doubt out of his mind. Leaning down, he stuck his face into the open window. "Take it easy, and if you start feeling drowsy, pull off. I'll be right behind you."

  At her nod, he straightened. Without a backward look--not that he wasn't tempted--he went to his pickup and climbed in. For the next thirty-odd miles he stayed on her tail. All the while he chafed at having to drive within the speed limit, something nobody ever did on this stretch of empty highway.

  * * * *

  Wade stuck his head inside the front door and called, "Here come Joss and John."

  His mother stepped out of the kitchen, a dish towel in her hands "Oh, good. I'm glad they got here first. They can get settled before the hordes descend."

  He silently agreed with what she hadn't said, that they would make demands and complain about everything, and do all they could to be pains in the ass. John was about the stuffedest shirt Ward had ever met, and Joss was... Well, to be charitable, Joss was unpredictable.

  But they were family, so he plastered a smile on his face and strode across the lawn to meet them as they got out of the cream-colored Cadillac.

  * * * *

  By the time she reached Fairfield, Annie was fighting sleep again. Why was it, she wondered, that as soon as she lay her head on the pillow at night, she was wide awake. But let her get behind the wheel, and she was ready for a nap. She still wasn't sure why she was here, anyhow. No, that's wasn't right. She was here because Gran had commanded her to be.

  "You'd think I would have grown out of the need to jump when Gran says 'Frog'," she muttered. The Floating Nought was the last place she wanted to be. So of course, that's where she would be, for the next week.

  Walter hadn't liked the ranch, so they hadn't gone there after the first summer they were married. Instead they'd gone to Hawaii, to Cozumel, and to Martinique. Last summer they'd been planning to cruise the Greek Isles, but of course...

  No, don't think about last summer.

  Gran said the whole family would be at the ranch this year, and she'd put a curious emphasis on whole. Did that mean Uncle Ward would be there? She hoped so. He never scolded her and he never judged. She was so tired of being told to pull herself together. To keep her upper lip stiff.

  Even if he didn't come, Annie was looking forward to seeing Hetty, who was her favorite cousin. A good dose of Hetty's attitude might be almost as good as Uncle Ward's non-judgmental acceptance of how she felt..

  Trouble was, all the cousins and their kids would also be there. How was she going to manage a week of family? Living in each others' pockets, having no secrets, no silence. Not a moment to call her own. Gran would make sure she was kept busy.

  "You spend entirely too much time brooding, Annie," she'd said when she informed Annie that she had no choice but to attend the reunion. "You need to get out among people, think of something besides your own troubles."

  "Maybe I like thinking of my own troubles," Annie said out loud. "Maybe I don't want to forget." She looked in the rear view mirror. "Maybe
I don't want people taking care of me. Why can't they just leave me alone?"

  The pickup was still behind her. When she turned off the highway, he did, too. He followed her to the small park where she found a patch of shade to park in. She ignored him, and went to the rest room. When she returned, he was leaning against her car, just as if he belonged there.

  "You don't need to follow me any more. I promise I'll take a nap before I drive on."

  "Good."

  His quick smile made a tremendous difference in his looks. Scowling, he had been stern and just a little intimidating. "Look," she lied, "I really appreciate what you did for me back there. I hadn't realized I was so sleepy." She should have, though. She hadn't slept more than a couple of hours last night.

  Or any night, for a long, long time.

  * * * *

  Hetty saw the Caddy when she pulled up next to the Pink House. They're here. She leaned her head on the steering wheel, while she gathered calm and self-control.

  Damn it! Something's wrong when you dread seeing your parents. When you wish you were anywhere, as long as it was a thousand miles away.

  Yet she had looked forward to this week, had been excited. What a change it was from her usual trips. The co-owner of a travel agency rarely took a real vacation, even if she did travel to exotic locales and wear designer knockoffs. This week she would be able to kick back, sleep 'til noon if she chose, and read trashy novels instead of resort brochures.

  She was looking forward to seeing her favorite cousins again, and to getting reacquainted with the ones she hadn't seen since the last Family Gathering she'd come to, back when she was in college.

  And Frank. Let's not forget Frank. Just five more days.

  A hot little tingle of excitement speared through her.

  * * * *

  Clay was in a café in Arco when he saw a familiar green Neon drive past. He stared after with relief. She'd had a good long nap.

  He pulled out his wallet, tossed his credit card on the counter. Time he was on the road again. He'd wasted far too much time at Grove Creek Lodge, the first place on his list of properties to consider. As soon as he'd turned into the lane, he'd known it wasn't right for him. The place was big enough, yes, and it was located within reasonable driving distance of both the Big Wood River and Silver Creek. The half section of land it sat in the middle of was mostly in pasture, so there was a potential for some income in addition to what guests paid for lodging and food.

  He'd run the numbers. The Grove Creek Lodge would be a good investment. An established resort catering to the fishing crowd in the summer, hunters in the fall, and skiers in the winter. Holden was eager to sell, would accept a reasonable offer.

  Clay hadn't felt like he was coming home.

  God! What the hell was he thinking? Was he thinking?

  What a piss-poor reason for scratching the place off his list. After fifteen years in banking, he was still making decisions with his heart, not his head.

  He let his mind move ahead to his destination. His appointment with Abe Wexler wasn't until Tuesday. He could spend the next two days on the river, reclaiming his soul.

  Anticipation sizzled inside him. Only a few more hours and he'd be there. He had a feeling he'd find what he was looking for along the Henry's Fork.

  Chapter Two

  "Stop it, you two!"

  Owen poked Char one last time, before folding his arms and doing his best to look innocent. He knew he was acting like a kid, but damn it, he was being treated like a kid.

  "You'll enjoy it, sweetie," his mother had insisted when she and Peter had first brought up their plans for the summer.

  "You've worked every summer since you were fourteen," Peter added. "Let us give you one last chance to be young and irresponsible."

  Young and irresponsible. Ha! As if he even knew how. Ever since his real father had gone to...had gone away, he'd been the man of the house, mowing lawns and running errands and baby-sitting because he was too young to get a real job. Some of the guys had given him a bad time about doing a sissy-job, but his friends, who knew the score, had stood up for him . Even after Mom and Peter had gotten married, he'd kept working, mostly because he didn't want Peter supporting him.

  Peter wasn't his father. No matter how great a guy he was, Peter just wasn't his father.

  Mom used to tell him how much she appreciated his being self-supporting. Back then it had made the difference between them living in a decent house and having to move in with Grandma Chesney.

  The old bat.

  "Mo-om, he's crowding me!"

  He jerked his elbow back before Mom got turned around.

  Was Linda dating someone else? It wasn't like they'd been going steady or anything, but still, it really creamed him that she'd said she wasn't about to be faithful to him all summer.

  "You'll be home a couple of weeks, then you'll go off to a new school. I love you, Owen, but not enough to give up having a life."

  He hadn't even been able to argue. She was right.

  God, I miss her. If I'd stayed home, maybe we'd have done it by now. He felt himself getting hot, so he started silently reciting the periodic table. It mostly worked.

  I wonder if I'm the oldest virgin in the Science Club. Probably. He hadn't dated anyone before Linda, and it had taken him nearly a month to get up the courage to touch her breast. For a long time she hadn't let him do anything more than that. Her older sister had gotten an abortion last year and she said that wasn't going to happen to her.

  She hadn't believed him when he'd claimed rubbers were safe.

  "I'm gonna throw up."

  Owen cringed away from his sister.

  Peter slowed down. "Remember what I told you about looking straight ahead and keeping your eyes on a stationary object," he said. "I'll stop as soon as I find a wide shoulder."

  Holy shit! Owen closed his eyes, shutting out the view from his window. Peter was driving really close to the edge of the road and the shoulder couldn't be much over a foot wide. Beyond it was empty space, straight down. If they went off the road, they'd roll, over and over, all the way to the bottom.

  It seemed like forever before they stopped, but Char hadn't barfed. She scrambled out as soon as they were at a standstill and leaned against the side of the van, breathing deeply.

  Mom dug out a Coke and told her to sip slowly. Peter came around the front of the van and leaned beside her. "Only a few more miles, Charlene. This is probably the worst road we'll have to face on the whole trip. It's the fastest route between Jackson Hole and the ranch, though. The other way would have taken us all day."

  So who cares? What's so special about a dumb family reunion, when we're not even part of the family? "How much farther?"

  Mom looked tired. Emma had been cranky last night, and Mom had taken her to the laundry room so she wouldn't keep the other campers awake.

  Owen had offered to walk around with her, but Mom hadn't let him. She worried a lot about burdening him and Char with the brat, and he wished she wouldn't. Em was fun, even when she was fussy. He could always get her to smile.

  "I'm okay now," Char said. "Maybe we could leave the window open or something."

  Peter ruffled her hair. "Better yet, why don't you move up by Emma. She's going to be waking soon."

  Owen could hardly wait. With the back seat all to himself, he could stretch out instead of having his knees jammed against the seat ahead.

  Oh, God, six more weeks of this. I'm gonna go bonkers.

  * * * *

  "I think I'm going to regret this," Annie told herself, squeezing her car into the narrow space between her parents' Volvo and Louisa and Ben's battered, dusty Volkswagen bus.

  "It's about time you got here." Hetty pulled the car door open. "My God, Annie! You look like death warmed over."

  "It's good to see you, too, Het," Annie told her tall, red-haired cousin as she returned the hug. "And thanks a lot. You always did have the perfect compliment."

  Hetty's reply was lost as Annie
was enveloped in hugs from half a dozen people she knew, and a couple of perfect strangers. Her family's happiness and pleasure smothered her. They were so...happy.

  Finally everyone scattered, leaving her alone with Hetty. "Where's Mom? And Gran?" She breathed in relief at the sudden peace.

  "Up at the cookshack. They said to send you up as soon as you got unpacked. Want some help?"

  "Sure. You can take the duffle. I'll get the rest." The tote bag holding her shoes was wedged between the cooler and one of the boxes. She tugged it free and set it on the ground.

  "What on earth?"

  "Oh, those are books. They've been in storage. I thought maybe someone might want them."

  "What kind of books? I like a good mystery." Hetty reached in and started prying the top of one box open.

  "They're all romances. Stupid stories about happy every after." The tote bag tipped over, spilling shoes everywhere. "Damn!" Annie snatched them up, stuffed them back into the bag. "Stupid shoes!"

  "You said--" Hetty cleared her throat. "I'll take your bags in to our room while you go up to see Gran. You know how she hates to be kept waiting. We can catch up later."

  "I suppose I have to." How she dreaded facing her grandmother, answering her questions, explaining why she had not yet, a year later, recovered from her sorrow. Talking to her on the phone had been difficult enough. Standing before her, like a little kid called in for a scolding, would be intolerable. For a moment she was tempted--really tempted--to aim the car the other way and go somewhere else. Anywhere else.

  Would Gran remember what day tomorrow was? She got back into the car and drove along the unpaved road, around the copse of cottonwoods, to a small parking area between an old fashioned frame building--the cookshack now--and the Big House, the original barn that had been remodeled into a spacious rustic dwelling.

  Would anyone even care what tomorrow was? Although her family had grieved with her at first, lately she wondered if they hadn't forgotten. Even her mother had been impatient with her excuses, when she'd tried to explain why she didn't want to come to the Floating Nought this year.