When Mountains Move

by Julie Cantrell

  “Nice to meet you,” Brigg says, shaking Bump’s hand, kissing me on the cheek. A charmer, this one.

  “They’re my neighbors,” Kat explains. I can’t believe she’s come here tonight. She knew this was where we’d be spending our anniversary date. She’s the one who convinced me to plan this whole event. Sitting on the porch swing with me during her last visit. She had held Isabel in her arms and said, “I think she should call me Aunt Kat.” Then she went on and on about how happy she is to have me as her friend and encouraged me to take a night out with Bump. “Believe me, Millie,” she said. “If I had Grant with me, I’d plan a big surprise to celebrate our anniversary. Take Bump to Denver. He’ll love it.” Now she’s here, at the very same theater where she told me to come, acting as if she never expected to see us here. I remember Mabel telling me long ago: “There’s no such thing as coincidence.”

  Then Kat asks, “What are y’all doing in the city?” Am I putting too much thought into this? Maybe it really is a fluke.

  “It’s our anniversary,” I say, watching her reaction closely. For a second Kat looks sad, and I feel guilty that she will never celebrate another anniversary with her husband. “We just saw Casablanca, like you suggested. Did you see it?”

  “Yes! Wasn’t it wonderful?” Kat smiles at her date, and there’s no doubt about it, she could easily be an actress on the silver screen.

  Bump has said nothing, and I worry he’s coming across as rude. He can’t seem to take his eyes off Kat in that green dress. I nudge him with my elbow and say, “What’d you think of it, Bump?”

  “Me? I don’t know. Good, I guess.” Not exactly the same response he gave when he was raving about the film in the theater.

  “We’re heading across the street for a drink. Join us,” Brigg says. He’s quite handsome, with straight, strong teeth. A subtle dimple on his left cheek. Tanned skin framed by light blond hair, a fresh trim as if he’s just left the barber.

  “Sounds fun,” Bump says, accepting the invitation before I can make an excuse.

  The last thing I want to do is spend my anniversary competing with Kat for Bump’s attention. “We really ought to get back to Isabel,” I explain. “I don’t want to give Oka any reason to move back to Mississippi.”

  “Don’t blame you a bit, Millie.” Kat smiles. “Henry and I plan to stop by next week. I’ve got a new recipe and need someone to test it on.”

  “Come on by anytime,” I answer. “You know you’re always welcome. It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Brigg.” I pull Bump’s arm gently, as we offer polite farewells. By the time Bump and I reach the truck, I am determined to make my husband forget all about Kat. I slide in close and thank him for the best date I’ve ever had.

  Bump responds by paraphrasing Rick’s character in the movie: “Of all the horse barns, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine.” Then he says, “It sure is nice to have you all to myself again.”

  I assume he means he’s tired of sharing me with Isabel. I’ve heard husbands can get that way. “I know it’s been hard on you, Bump. With Isabel waking us up all night.”

  He sighs. “I could deal with that. It’s her cryin’. She never stops.”

  I understand how he feels. I’m worn out too, but I am also hurt to hear him complain about Isabel. “She’s in pain, Bump. You said it yourself. You said she’ll outgrow it.”

  “Yeah, but I never heard a baby cry so much. And she should be past it by now. I can’t understand what’s wrong with her. Doc doesn’t know either. Says she’s the most difficult child he’s ever seen.”

  “Just think how she feels. The only thing that soothes her is a long ride with Firefly. And even then, I have to hold her a certain way in the saddle. She insists on looking out at everything around her, and I have to put pressure on her belly, too. She just needs a little help calming down. That’s all.”

  “Seems that’s where you are every time I go lookin’.” He shifts away from me.

  “I’ve tried everything, Bump. No one knows how to help her. Even Oka and Fortner just shake their heads.”

  “I know. But it seems like …” Bump grows quiet.

  “What?” I ask, although I’m afraid to hear the answer.

  He swallows hard. “Like I’ve been alone in this. From the start. If it weren’t for Fortner, I don’t know what I’d do.”

  Of all the things I thought he might say, I did not expect that. “Bump, that’s not fair. I know I had those months of bed rest, and now the baby takes a lot of my time. But I’m trying my best. I really am.”

  “I know,” he says, finally offering a softer tone to his voice.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, taking his hand from the wheel to hold it in my lap. “I don’t know what more I can do.”

  Bump lets me hold his hand for only a minute or two. He drives the rest of the way home in silence. By the time we arrive, my breasts are full and leaking milk. We’ve been gone too long. We open the door to find Oka in the living room, walking back and forth with Isabel. Our baby is screaming at the top of her lungs. Fortner sits in the kitchen, his head in his hands.

  I pull my child from Oka’s arms and try to nurse her. “I’m so sorry.” I say this to no one specifically, just a general apology to everyone. How I wish I could make it better for them all.

  “I’ve never seen anything like it,” Fortner says.

  Oka sighs.

  Bump doesn’t say anything. Instead, he goes to our bedroom and closes the door hard behind him.

  Isabel arches her back and throws her head back, resisting the milk. I reposition her, try the other side. Nothing works. I finally give up, fastening Isabel into the cradleboard and carrying her out to the barn. I saddle Firefly and draw us both up onto my horse’s broad back. We ride at a slow, soothing pace across the pitch-dark pasture. We ride, and we ride, listening to the cries of the coyotes and the songs of the owls, until Isabel’s tiny eyelids start to close and her voice begins to quiet, and finally, we find the peace we need.

  Kat and Henry show up one week after our date night, as she promised. But this time, they arrive during breakfast.

  “Come on in,” I tell them. “Plenty of biscuits. Sausage.”

  “Sorry we’re so early,” Kat says, handing me a pie. “Heading into town to meet the reverend. I promised Daddy we’d be there by nine.”

  I hold Isabel with one arm and put the pie on the counter for later. Then I fix two extra plates and set Kat and Henry a place at the table. Fortner stands until Kat is seated. Bump does the same.

  Kat hesitates, looking at Fortner, then at me, as if she is surprised we really do welcome this man to our table for family meals. I shrug and smile, and that seems enough for Kat to take a chance on him. “Why, thank you,” she says, nodding at each of the men. Fortner doesn’t give her the attention she wants, but Bump gives her plenty. Except for our date night, which ended with us in separate rooms again, Bump hasn’t looked at me like that in months, and I feel a pinch when he smiles Kat’s way.

  As Bump’s eyes follow Kat, little Henry stares at Fortner, examining his belt of bullets and the pistols holstered on each hip. Unlike Bump and me, who always remove our guns at the table, Fortner stays fully armed at all times.

  “Morning,” Fortner says to Henry, whose red curls catch the morning sun.

  Kat’s son is too stunned to respond. He looks to his mother for assurance, and Kat signals for Henry to sit in the chair beside her. She scoots the seat beneath Henry’s small frame, and the child sits without taking his eyes from Fortner. “Mama,” Henry whispers loud enough for all of us to hear. “It’s the bad man.”

  I shuffle my feet uneasily and pass Kat a cup of coffee. Pour Henry some milk.

  “Is that what they say?” Fortner looks at Kat but speaks to Henry. “They tell you I’m a bad man?”

  Henry nods, still intimidated by Fortner’s
reputation. We’ve been here a year already, but this is the first direct encounter Fortner has had with Kat and Henry. They visit nearly every week, but Fortner is always hard at work when they come.

  Kat tries to laugh it off as a misunderstanding, but Fortner talks right over her, asking, “What else do they say?”

  “That you kill people,” Henry says.

  Kat gasps. “Henry!”

  Henry doesn’t respond to his mother. Instead, he keeps his eyes set on Fortner. “You gonna kill me?” he whispers.

  Fortner puts his hands on the table, two firm fists, and says, “Tell you what. Your name is Henry, is that right?”

  Henry nods.

  “Okay then, Henry. Can you do me a favor?”

  Henry nods again, nervously.

  “Next time somebody tells you I’m a bad man, or that I kill people, or something about me not having a soul, you look them right in the eye, just like this, you see?”

  Another nod.

  “That’s right, you look right at them and you say, ‘Eli Fortner is a good man.’ A good man. You hear me?”

  Henry nods. This is the first time Fortner has confronted the situation since the day the lion attacked, so we all pay close attention.

  “Let me hear you say it.”

  Kat sits quietly, but moves her hand over Henry’s shoulder now and draws her son near.

  “Go ahead. Pretend I’m your Uncle Halpin, jabbing on and on about what an evil man Fortner is. What are you going to say?”

  Henry looks at his mother, then back at Fortner, and he says, “Eli Fortner is a good man?”

  “No. You have to say it like you believe it. Won’t mean a thing if you don’t believe it’s true.”

  I give Henry a gentle smile. Try to put him at ease. He turns to Bump, who suddenly says, matter-of-factly, “Eli Fortner is a good man.” No one knows how to respond. Fortner looks at Bump as if he’s been pardoned. As if God Himself has come down and declared him a saint right here at the table. Then Bump says it again, louder this time, with complete conviction. “Eli Fortner is a good man.” Not a speck of doubt.

  Henry looks at his mother, but Kat frowns and says nothing. So Oka jumps in, announcing, “Eli Fortner is a good man.” But Oka says this to me, as if she’s still trying to convince me it’s true.

  Fortner’s eyes have become misty, and his hands are no longer set in fists on the table. Instead, they are folded together, and they shake. He looks at Oka with a deep, wrinkled brow and partly opened lips, the look of a beggar who has just found unexpected kindness on a cold and crowded street.

  Then I take a chance, and I say it too. “Eli Fortner is a good man.” And as the words reach my ears, I am convinced they tell the truth. I finally understand what Bump and Oka have known all along, that Fortner really is one of the good guys. Fortner looks at me in such a genuine way, with such unconditional love, that all seems right with the world.

  We all look at Henry, but Henry says nothing. Kat sighs and says, “That’s enough.”

  Henry eyes Fortner a little longer, looks back at his mother, at each of us, as if he’s trying to decide where he stands. Then he sits straight and says, boldly, “Eli Fortner is a good man.”

  We all smile and Bump says, “Amen!”

  Kat whispers to Henry and tries to get him to focus on his food.

  “That’s right, Henry. Now, if you can do that, well, then, why in the world would I kill you?” Fortner extends his hand. “Do we have a deal?”

  “Deal,” Henry says, returning the shake. Then, he pokes the tip of his pinky finger into his biscuit and makes two holes for eyes, one for a nose, and four for a happy smile. I offer him a grin, and fill his happy-face biscuit with blueberry jam. He tickles Isabel’s toes and she smiles at him.

  “Weather’s warmin’,” Bump says, bringing us all back to a normal conversation. “Pass open yet?”

  Fortner shrugs. Then adds, “If not yet, any day now.”

  “Is everything set for that sale?” I ask, finally taking a seat with Isabel in my lap. I pull a biscuit and break a small bite for her.

  “Need to make some calls. Still plan to settle on twenty to one,” Bump says, explaining his plans to move twenty young mares across the Divide to trade for one pedigree stallion. Despite many opportunities to purchase other stallions, Mr. Tucker insists this one will give him the breeding lines he’s after.

  Fortner questions, “Twenty of our best, I assume?”

  “Plus some cash,” Bump says between bites. “Mr. Tucker’s been working this plan for years. Ever since that meeting back in ’40, when Denhardt opened the stud book.”

  Fortner takes a long drink of coffee and says, “Must be some stud.”

  “Prized descendant of both Steel Dust and Billy.” Bump wipes his mouth.

  I’ve learned enough by now to recognize those names as two of the best quarter horses since the breed took root.

  “Still plan to push them up?” Fortner asks, passing the pan of biscuits to Oka and Bump before taking another for himself.

  “Yep. I don’t care none for the trains.” Bump butters a second biscuit. “Mr. Tucker agrees. Says the natural way is best.”

  “You’re going to drive them across the Divide?” Kat asks. She still hasn’t touched her food.

  Bump nods.

  “I’ve never made the route on horseback. Sounds fun.” Kat waits as if she expects Bump to invite her to join them. Everyone’s attention is pulled from our plates at the same instant, and we all look at Kat as if she’s lost all reason.

  “Are you sayin’ you wanna join us?” Bump looks surprised, maybe a little impressed.

  “Why not?” She smiles. “You don’t think I’m up for it?”

  We all laugh. I must not be the only one who finds the idea absurd.

  “What’s so funny?” Kat asks. “Fortner knows the pass, right?”

  Fortner nods, chews his biscuit.

  “And you’ll need help moving the herd,” Kat continues her plan.

  “Fortner and I can handle it.” Bump take a swig of coffee, hiding his amusement, and I pray he doesn’t allow her to go.

  “Aren’t you going, Millie?” Kat asks, turning everyone’s attention to me.

  “I’d love to,” I admit. “But I need to stay here with Isabel.” Bump gives me a look that makes me feel as if I’ve disappointed him. I try again, wording it a different way. “Oka and I will be holding down the ranch.”

  “How long will you be gone?” Kat asks Bump, still not taking the hint.

  “Month at most,” Bump says.

  “Well, that’s not too long. Millie and I can both go,” Kat says. “We’ll help you move the horses west, and then, when you come back with the stallion, we’ll split off for the cherry fields. Take the train back.” Then she turns to me. “We must spend at least a day at the vapor caves.”

  “Kat, you’re not talking sense. As nice as that sounds, Isabel’s still nursing, and I won’t leave Oka here to do all the work while I’m soaking in hot springs.” I also wouldn’t want to leave Isabel for a month, but I don’t admit that.

  “Millie’s right.” Bump takes my side, and I smile. “It’s too much for one person to handle, and I need Fortner with me.”

  Oka looks relieved.

  “You don’t know what you’re missing,” Kat says. Then she picks up her fork and adds, “I’m not going to let this go so easy. I’m betting by summer, we’ll all be in Glenwood Springs.”

  Bump laughs, and we let Kat have the last word. Just the way she likes it.

  After finishing breakfast, I walk her to her car with Henry. “So what do you think of Mr. Brigg?” Kat asks before starting the engine.

  “He seems nice,” I answer, unsure of what I should say. “Handsome, too.”

  “You can’t blame me, Millie.”

/>   “I don’t blame you, Kat.”

  Henry climbs back and forth over the front seat. At the moment, he is upside down with his two small boots sticking up in the air. I don’t want to say too much in front of him, but I’m wondering if Kat has finally accepted Grant’s death. I whisper, “Have you decided to have a service?”

  Kat blows air between her lips. “I won’t believe a single thing they tell me. Not until I see proof. For all I know, he’s still out there, Millie. Trying to find his way home to me.”

  “Then why Mr. Brigg?” I ask, perhaps crossing a line.

  “Because, Millie,” she answers. “Because I’m still out there too.”

  Chapter 22

  A fresh pot of tea steeps as Oka pours us each a cup, something to break the chill of this spring morning. May in the mountains can mean many things, but today the weather is perfect. It won’t take long for the sun to turn this into a beautiful, warm day. Outside, Bump carries feed buckets to the pasture trough. I watch him work while I sip tea and set my breathing to his long, even stride. Isabel sleeps in her crib while I write letters home to Bump’s mother and to Camille and Mabel, trying to explain how wonderful our little bean really is.

  The morning light catches Oka’s face. My first impression of Kat was that she was such a beautiful woman, but now I know Oka possesses the true beauty. I can’t take my eyes off her, with her scars, and her wrinkles, her gray hair and crooked teeth. She has become the most astonishing woman I’ve ever seen.

  “Oka.” I am scared to ask her about Jack, so I get it out before I stop myself. “What happened that day? When Jack killed Boone?” I have no right to intrude, but I need to know. I need to understand what happened to transform my father, Oka’s sweet son, into the abusive man I feared.

  Oka keeps looking out the window, as the wind rustles the curtains. She stays quiet for a long time before answering. “My husband, he not good,” she begins. “He believe I cheat. With another man.” She turns to face me, shifting her weight to relieve her bad hip. “It not true. But Boone never believe me. He hear about Chahta woman, cut here, in her ear by elders, to show she cheat. Another woman cut across here.” She points to her cheek. “Marked. Sign to all she not be trusted. Boone not Chahta. But he say I should be cut, too. He drink too much and he hold me down, knife to my face.”