A Strange Little Band

by Judith B. Glad

  "Calvin. Oh, Calvin, you'll never be five, like Joey," Annie murmured, feeling the tears well up, "and it's my fault." For a moment she hated her nephews. All of them.

  Hetty stuck her head though the archway. "We're going on a nature walk after lunch. In the park."

  "Enjoy yourself."

  "You should go with them," Gran said. "It will do you a world of good."

  "I'm going to take a nap this afternoon, Gran. I don't want to go on a nature walk."

  "Darling, you need to get out with people more. After all, you came here to be with the family," Annie's mother said. "You can't keep running off and hiding."

  "Mom, I came here because you and Gran forced me to. I don't want to go this afternoon."

  "It seems a shame to be in a place like this and not take advantage of its opportunities," Aunt Joss said, "no matter how...primitive they are."

  "Look Annie, you're outnumbered. If you don't go with us willingly, Gran will hogtie you and make us carry you. Give in gracefully." Hetty shot her a sympathetic smile. "Skinny as you are, you'd still be a load on a two-mile hike."

  Annie bit back a swear word, knowing she owed her family some time with them, but hating the thought. She needed solitude, time to get her thoughts and emotions in order, not their smothering concern. "Oh, all right. But I hope you won't object if I go down and take a shower now?" She set the still empty cup on the counter. "I promise I'll be here for lunch, Gran, so you don't need to send someone with me to make sure I don't run away again."

  "Get along with you." Gran waved a hand.

  As she passed the boys, Owen called, "Hey, Annie, got a minute?"

  Reluctantly she paused. "Sure. What do you need?"

  "Peter says the barn down there belongs...is part of the ranch. Is it okay if we go down there?"

  She looked down the hill at the barn and corrals near the ranch entrance. "I honestly don't know. We used to pester Charlie whenever we could, but I'm not sure he's still there." A shriek from one of the younger boys made her jump. "You could go ask Gran--"

  "She might say no."

  Annie had to grin. "Yeah, she might. Look, why don't you go down and find out for yourself. But don't take the little boys. Not until you're sure it's okay."

  "Their mom wouldn't let them go anyway. She's real strict with them." He shook his head. "They mind her, too."

  "Remarkable. And very un-kidlike."

  "You said it. Thanks, Annie. See you later."

  She watched him trot back to where the younger boys were still tossing the Frisbee. Nice kid. Peter's so lucky.

  She didn't really envy her brother. Not really. She just wanted her own son back.

  All the peace she'd felt this morning was gone, replaced by the familiar aching loneliness.

  * * * *

  Shortly after Owen took off on his hike, Tommy's big sister called him into the cookshack. That left just Norman and Joey and their cousin Jeremy to play Frisbee. And the two little boys couldn't throw very well. "It's no fun with only three of us," Norman said. "Let's do something else."

  "This place isn't any fun," Joey said. "No TV or swings or anything."

  "We could ride a bike," Norman suggested. "I know where there's one."

  "Where?" Jeremy looked interested.

  "Over behind the Pink House. I saw that girl--Tommy's sister--put it there when she came back."

  "Came back? Where'd she go?"

  "Somewhere." Joey shrugged. "Mom said somebody should tell her not to ride on the highway."

  "Let's go," Norman said. "before someone comes." He knew he probably shouldn't touch the girl's bicycle, but it was just sitting there, not being used. They wouldn't hurt it.

  They ran around the Pink House. Sure enough, there the bicycle sat, leaning against the house beside the back door. Not locked or anything. It had those skinny tires and turned down handlebars like the real bike racers used. And it was a boy's bike, too.

  He grabbed the handlebars and rolled it away from the house. The crossbar was really high.

  "It looks awful big," Jeremy said. "Can you ride it?"

  "Sure. Watch." Setting a foot on the pedal, he gave a scoot and swung his leg over the bar. He could reach the other pedal, but his legs were too short for him to sit on the seat.

  "Oh, man, this is something," he cried and he swooped along the path. Unlike his bike at home, this one was light and easy to pedal, and it went really fast with just a little push. It was hard to steer, though. The front wheel wobbled as he rounded the corner of the house.

  Joey and Jeremy came running after him. "Wait! Wait for us!"

  Norman turned uphill on the road. He didn't see anybody on the lawn, and the trees in the Grove would hide him from the cookshack. Riding on the gravel was hard, though, with the skinny wheels. The handlebars kept wanting to jerk out of his hands.

  At the top of the hill, he started to turn around, and the front wheel kind of tucked itself under. The next thing he knew, he was sprawled in the road, tangled with the bicycle.

  "Owww!" His knees hurt and his hands, and he had something in one eye. He tried to turn sideways so he could get up. One of his feet was wedged in the front wheel spokes, and he couldn't get it loose.

  "Oh wow, Normie, you broke it," Joey said, as he came to a sliding stop. Dust puffed up from his feet and came right into Norman's face.

  "You're bleeding," Jeremy said. "Both knees."

  "I know it. Help me up." He was the big brother. He couldn't cry in front of Joey, but he sure wanted to.

  They helped him get untangled. When he stood up. he saw that that his knees were just skinned and the palms of his hands were only scraped a little bit. "How bad's the bike?" he was going to have to confess. Dad would scold, Mom would probably confine him to the house for the rest of the week, and the girl would probably kill him.

  "It's not too bad" Jeremy stood it on its wheels. A couple of spokes were bent, and there was a long scratch on the part the seat stuck out of, but that was all they could see.

  Norm took hold of the handlebars and walked the bike back to the parking space by the Big House. He leaned it against the big white car's back bumper. "I'm gonna go wash first, then I'll have to tell Mom and Dad."

  "You want us to come with you?"

  "No way." He hated it when the other kids saw him get scolded.

  * * * *

  CeCe and Tommy were still in the cookshack with Gran when the stuffed shirt came in, looking like he was ready to kill someone. CeCe couldn't remember his name or how he was related, but she thought he was the father of Hetty, the cool redhead she'd liked on sight.

  "If you cared enough about that silly bicycle of yours to bring it all the way from Denver, you should have put it somewhere safe," he said when he saw her. "I just ran over it. Ruined a tire, too."

  "My bike?" CeCe couldn't move. "You ran over my bike? But it was--"

  "Apparently you left it leaning against my back bumper. Now I'm going to miss my tee time." He glowered at Gran. "Cecile, I told you this was a ridiculous notion of yours, and I still believe it. These children's father should have come with them, or they shouldn't be here."

  Released from the paralysis of shock, CeCe started toward the door.

  "Wait," Gran called. "If he ran over it, there's nothing you can do. Now, John, do you make a habit of driving off without looking behind you?"

  "Of course not, but how you can expect me to see a bicycle over the trunk lid? I ought to make you pay for my tire, young lady. Maybe that would teach you to take better care of your bicycle."

  She wanted to throw up, and to cry, and to swear. It took all the discipline she'd learned in competition to say, with only a small quaver in her voice, "My bicycle was behind the Pink House. I left it there this morning, after my ride."

  "A likely story. I know how you kids are."

  "John, you're not making a bad matter any better. Sit down and be quiet until we get to the bottom of this.?"

  To CeCe's amazement, he sat. Bu
t he didn't stop glowering at her.

  "CeCe, will you see if Ward is in the Blue House?" Gran said. "Ask him to come over here. And then you'd better go see how badly your bike is damaged."

  Her knees shook all the away to the Blue House. After she delivered the message to Uncle Ward, she went to look at her bike, now nothing but a tangle of titanium tubes and silver spokes caught under the side of a cream-colored Cadillac. She knelt and touched the handlebar grip, probably the only part of the bike that was still intact.

  One more thing. Just one more thing that's gone.

  Feet dragging, CeCe went back to the cookshack. She met Uncle Ward as he was coming out. He laid an arm over her shoulder and walked with her toward the Grove. "The boys took your bike, CeCe. Norman just confessed to his parents. It got scratched up when he fell with it. He left it leaning against John's car while he went to wash, and forgot to move it."

  "Okay," was about all she could manage.

  "All three boys will be punished, and Norman will probably be grounded for the rest of the summer. If that makes you feel any better."

  She shook her head, knowing that saying one more word would start her crying like a baby.

  "Eric will offer to buy you a new bike. I'm going to suggest that John chip in, too. He should have made sure there was nothing behind his car."

  Another shake of her head. What am I going to do all week? How can I stay in shape? The Criterium is in three weeks. I've got to keep training. What am I going to do?

  "Can you get a replacement in Idaho Falls?"

  "No." She paused, cleared her throat. "My bike is a special build because I'm so short. Getting a new one will take weeks. Maybe months." Sure, she had other bikes, but this one was the best. This is the one she'd hoped to ride to her first ever win.

  "Well, then, can you get one to ride, while you're waiting for the replacement?" He gave her shoulder a little shake. "C'mon, CeCe, don't give up. I know you have a race coming up soon. You want to keep up with your training, don't you?"

  "Yeah, okay. But how am I gonna get to Idaho Falls? I won't go with Eric. He lectures."

  A short laugh exploded from Uncle Ward. "I'll just bet he does. I'll see if I can find someone who wants to drive down there tomorrow. If no one else, then I'll take you."

  "Okay." She heard herself, and realized she'd sounded really grudging. "Thanks, Uncle Ward. I'll be okay, now."

  "No, I don't think you will. Not right away. But you'll do, CeCe. You'll do." Another half-hug and he released her. "Why don't you and Charlene see if you can lure Annie out of her cave this afternoon? She needs to spend some time with family."

  "I might." CeCe escaped into the Grove where she found a solitary bench, far away from family, far away from the boys she'd like to...do something to. Something violent. Something mean.

  * * * *

  When Charlene and CeCe came to persuade her to join the nature walk at Harriman State Park, Annie found them hard to resist. If CeCe could smile despite her broken dreams, then Annie could do the same despite her broken heart.

  Oh, yes, and don't we do pathetic well, she could almost hear Hetty saying.

  Harriman State Park had once been a working ranch like the Floating Nought, although Annie rather imagined her family's ranch had never approached the luxury of the Railroad Ranch. The property was now part of the Idaho State Parks system, managed as habitat for the wild animals that made their homes there, among them moose, elk, trumpeter swans, sandhill cranes, and bald eagles.

  The leader of the nature walk hardly looked old enough to be out alone. He was a shy young man, his face scarred by acne, his voice confident only when he embarked on the memorized spiel about the natural features of the park or when he was answering questions about its animal inhabitants.

  "If you look carefully, you can see some trumpeter swans," He told the crowd standing along the path bordering Silver Lake. "Over there, just beyond that point."

  Everyone obediently peered across the water. Sure enough, four white shapes were gliding across the mirror smooth surface of the water, too far away to be clearly seen. She'd seen them before, but Annie still wished for her binoculars, sitting on the windowsill beside her bunk. "Can we get closer?"

  "Oh, sure. Just take the trail out past the old corrals, back up towards the hills." Their guide gestured. "If you go early in the morning, you might even see the moose."

  "Moose? Do they really come in this close?" one of the tourists asked.

  "Yeah. Sometimes they come right down behind the bunkhouse. Early in the morning, they're usually in the meadows on the north end of the lake. One of the cows has twin calves."

  Everyone spoke at once. "Twins? Really?"

  "Oh, how I'd love to see them!"

  "I've never seen moose in the wild. How exciting!"

  Hetty drew her aside when the tour ended. "Let's walk home by way of the corrals."

  "Okay," Annie agreed, not particularly interested, but with nothing better to do. She wondered if Owen had found Charlie Jones still in charge of the horses. Charlie had seemed older than dirt when she was a kid, but she knew now that he'd only been in his mid-forties. So he'd be, what--sixty-something, now?

  The younger girls decided to ride back with Ben and Louisa, who promised a detour to Island Park for ice cream. Hetty and Annie were silent as they took the trail back to the Floating Nought.

  "I've never thought about it before," Hetty said, as they reached the highway, "but this must have been some operation in its time. Just imagine these two big ranches growing who knows how many cattle in these woods."

  "I'd like to have seen it, back in 1922, when old John Blankenship homesteaded here. Do you remember Gran's stories of growing up on the ranch?"

  "You mean the 'walking five miles to school through six feet of snow' stories?" Hetty chuckled. "Sure I remember, and I don't believe them any more now than I did back then. I'll bet they had school busses in the nineteen-thirties."

  "Probably, but still... I think I'd like to live out here. There's something... oh, I don't know... soothing about it. Last night I woke up and heard an owl."

  "I can't imagine. Give me police sirens and landing jets any day. I'd go mad in this silence. My body went into smog withdrawal for the first three days. Now it's getting used to this clean air. I'll probably suffer when I get to San Francisco."

  "City girl!"

  "That's me. You, too, for that matter. You can't convince me you'd like to live way out here all the time. How would you make a living?"

  "I don't know. I just..." Annie shrugged, unable to put her feelings into words. She wasn't sure of them herself.

  Instead of going into the barn, they went directly to the corrals. Hetty climbed onto its lower rail, hooked her elbows over the top, and whistled. Horses lifted their heads and looked at her curiously, but none approached.

  "Lost my touch, I guess," she said, when repeated whistles failed to lure the horses to them.

  "With horses, anyway," Annie commented, "but you don't seem, to have the same problem with men."

  Hetty looked over her shoulder, then jumped down. "That sounded almost envious, Annie. What's the matter? Don't you approve of Frank's coming either?"

  "You can have fifteen lovers here for all of me. I don't care!" Sudden anger boil up within Annie. For some reason her favorite cousin's breezy manner was a distinct irritation. Learning that Hetty had still another gorgeous boyfriend hurt, like having a knife twisted into her gut. She'd done her best to ignore the pain, had tried not to think about how unfair it all was.

  Hetty was the epitome of love-'em-and-leave-'em, while Annie had worked hard at being the perfect wife. Hetty was rewarded for her cavalier attitude with lovers waiting in line. Annie had failed to hold on to even one man.

  "If you don't care, why are you yelling at me?"

  "I wasn't yell..." Annie heard her strident voice. She took a deep breath. "I guess I was. Sorry, Het." Smiling ruefully, she slipped an arm around Hetty's waist. "Let's go.
I'll try to explain." She knew that if she didn't, Hetty would bug her until she did. Het had never been one to tolerate unaccountable emotional reactions.

  Somehow the peace and quiet, the barely audible background of bird calls and distant, childish voices made it easier for her to express thoughts that had been churning inside for a long time.

  "I didn't used to feel inadequate, and I don't know why I started," she said when they were walking slowly up the road toward the houses. "When I was a kid I always figured I could handle anything the world tossed my way. Maybe if I hadn't fallen so hard for Walter..."

  "He was a womanizing shit," Hillary said. "All charm and no substance."

  "You never did like him, did you? No, don't deny it. He didn't like you, either. I never understood why."

  "Maybe because I was immune to his charm. Look, Annie, we could talk all day about how Walter and I didn't get along, but that's not telling me your problem really is. Why on earth should you feel inadequate?"

  "Because I was." The words burst from her like bullets. She took a couple of steps before she realized that Hetty had halted in the middle of the road and was staring at her as if she'd lost her mind. "I tried so damn hard to be a good wife, and I just never got the hang of it." Turning so Hetty wouldn't see the tears that had suddenly flooded her eyes, she said, "Do you know anyone else who's flunked a class in wine selection?"

  "Somebody who prefers beer? You never have liked wine much, as I recall. Besides, who cares?"

  "Walter did. It was very important to him that I know how to be a good hostess. It was important for his job that I know how to entertain his clients."

  "Why? Aren't there any caterers in Portland?"

  "Of course there are, but Walter would never--"

  "Bullshit! What about Annie? You had a full-time job. Seems to me that hiring a caterer to do your social dinners would have made really good sense." Hetty draped an arm across her shoulders and squeezed. "You know what I think?"

  Annie shook her head against Hetty's shoulder. "Uh-uh." The tears had receded, but were still caught in her throat.

  "I think you forgot that nobody can do anything to us that we don't let them. Why didn't you stand up to Walter, instead of letting him push you around?"