When Mountains Move

by Julie Cantrell

  Hours pass, and still Bump doesn’t come home. Oka, Fortner, and I eat beans and bread without him, while Isabel chews on everything she can find, trying to work her teeth through the gums. By bedtime, I am worried Mr. Fitch might have taken a turn for the worse. I also worry that Kat’s had time to sink her claws into Bump again.

  “Think I’ll run some supper over to Kat’s place,” I announce. “Mind if I leave Isabel here? I’ll put her to bed before I go.”

  “Go on,” Oka says, smiling. “I can handle it.”

  I give Isabel a kiss—Oka, too. “Thank you,” I tell her. She knows a seed of doubt grows wild within me.

  In a hurry, I pack food and head out. I drive carefully along the dark roads to Kat’s house where I pull in next to her Oldsmobile, parked crooked in the drive. I knock on the door. I wait. No one answers. I knock again, louder this time. No response. I test the knob, cold against my palm. It’s unlocked, so I enter.

  I am afraid to call out, might wake Mr. Fitch. So I bring the food to the kitchen and make my way to the master bedroom where Bump was treating Kat’s father. When I reach the open doorway, I find Mr. Fitch sound asleep in the bed. His head is propped on pillows; his mouth is open, and he drools. I move quietly into the room. Bump sits on a love seat in the reading area, his head tilted back, snoring. Kat sleeps too. Her long body stretched out across the love seat. Her head at rest in Bump’s lap.

  I stare at them there, together, her red hair spilling down his legs. His hand across her ribs. It’s clear to me now. Whatever started on the western slope, it isn’t over.

  What should I do? Should I wake him? And if so, what do I say? There’s nothing I can do without making a fool of myself. They’ll both act as if they haven’t done anything wrong, as if I’m the one who is out of line, overreacting, a jealous wife who doesn’t trust her husband. Bump’s a grown man. He can make his own choices. And if Kat is his choice, then I don’t want to force him to come home with me. That’s not the kind of life I want.

  I stand and watch them for another minute or two, trying to reason all the ways this could be more innocent than it looks, but in the end, I can’t see any other truth. It’s in the placement of his hand, just beneath her breasts, the fall of her hair, as if he’s brushed it back as she leaned into his lap. I can’t make any more excuses. I leave the food in the kitchen and my husband sleeping next to Kat. I drive home to Isabel, alone.

  It’s the first night I’ve faced an empty bed since Bump’s trip across the Divide, when Kat went there to find him. All night I pace the floors, imagining the worst. Isabel wakes several times in pain, and I soothe her gums with a whiskey-soaked chew rag. I fight the urge to dull my own pain with whiskey as well. I’m exhausted, but sleep never comes. I am haunted through the long, dark hours, knowing my husband should be here, sleeping next to me. Finally, the sun rises, and I can wait no longer. “Mind watching Isabel again?” I ask Oka. “I’m sorry to ask, but I really need to check on Bump.”

  Oka takes Isabel’s hand and smiles as she says, “Help me garden?”

  “Dig!” says Isabel, and I’m relieved not to leave her crying.

  I drive faster this time, whipping the truck into Kat’s drive. Her car is no longer parked where it was last night. I sprint to the front door where a sign has been tacked. It reads, “Millie,” in bold, black letters. Kat’s writing, not Bump’s. I take it down and unfold the letter. “Daddy in trouble. Took him to Longmont. Kenneth with us. Uncle Halpin has Henry. Tell Reverend.”

  I rush inside to the telephone. “Reverend Baker, please,” I ask the operator. “Lewiston.”

  I hold the line. “No answer.” The operator responds flatly, as if the world still makes perfect sense.

  “Can you try the sheriff?” My voice hits a frequency of panic.

  “Hold please.” Her monotone voice still shows no emotion. “No answer.”

  I thank the operator and hang up the phone. Then I walk to the bedroom where I last saw Mr. Fitch. A pool of blood has stained the unmade bed, and a few bottles of morphine stand in the windowsill. A reminder of Mama and how badly we can hurt the ones we love. I step over a glass of water that has been knocked to the floor, the shattered glass proof they left in a hurry.

  I leave the Fitch place and head for Longmont. I’m betting they went straight to the hospital, and I figure it should be easy enough to find. I will go there, and I will bring Bump back home with me. Where he belongs. But I don’t get two miles down the road before I stop the truck. I sit and watch the last of the summer fires burning in the distance, a reminder that nature takes its own course and that sometimes the best we can do is get out of the way. I wipe my tears and straighten my spine. Then I turn the truck around and go home.

  Just before nightfall, Reverend Baker drives down our lane. I’m sorting Oka’s colorful beads on the porch with Isabel. My stomach drops when I see him. I’m relieved when Oka joins me as the reverend approaches. “Millie, Mrs. Reynolds.” He removes his hat and nods in greeting. “I’ve just received some bad news.”

  My heart plummets. I fear the worst. That something terrible has happened. That Bump may be hurt.

  “Mr. Fitch has passed away,” the reverend says.

  I’m stunned, and I’m betting the look on my face reveals my surprise. “What happened?”

  “The head injury was more severe than they thought.” I sit down next to Isabel and put my head in my hands. He was such a healthy, vibrant man. I look at Oka for answers, but she has none. She sits on the swing and motions for the reverend to have a seat too. He continues to stand.

  “Your husband did everything he could, Millie. Everyone appreciates that.” The reverend must know what I’m thinking. I can only imagine how awful Bump must feel. He’s already felt like a failure on the ranch, with the delayed arrival of cattle at first, and then the late breeding season with the stallion setting us back. Not to mention the guilt he feels for not enlisting in the war, especially now that the men are returning home, broken and bulleted. And now, when it matters most, he wasn’t able to save Mr. Fitch. I ache for him. For Kat, too. As angry as I am with her, she must be in so much pain. And for little Henry, a boy who has already lost more than most.

  “Are they still in Longmont?” I want to be there for Bump. He needs me.

  “Yes. Kat’s not taking this very well.” The reverend rubs his smoothly shaven chin. “It’s a lot for her to handle, especially after her husband. And her mother.”

  “Of course,” I say. It’s certainly not fair. Now I understand why Kat wants Bump. Except for Henry, she’s lost everyone she’s ever loved. She’s drawn to Bump for the same reasons I am. He’s safe. He’s an anchor.

  “She relied on her father for everything,” the reverend continues. “Not sure how she’ll manage without him, to be honest.”

  I nod. I agree.

  “Bump asked me to let you know the situation. He had no other way to reach you. It sounds as if Kat’s quite fragile right now, so he plans to stay a while longer. Give her the time she needs.”

  I sink. He’s telling me my husband is spending more time with Kat. Out of town. “Has she been admitted?” I remember how the hospital staff handled Mama’s grief when Jack died. How their flawed attempts to help led to her death too. I don’t trust doctors to handle these things. On the other hand, I hope Kat is in the hospital because if they aren’t staying there, they might end up with a room somewhere. The thought sends my blood to a boil.

  “I’m not sure, Millie. Kat insisted I stay here.” The reverend finally sits next to Oka, and the swing creaks. “She wants me to plan the services. And help with Henry.”

  “I should go. I’ll take care of Kat, and Bump can come home to manage the ranch.” I look at Oka, and she nods in agreement. She knows what I’m thinking.

  “I suggested that too,” the reverend says. “But Bump feels responsible. He wants to make this
right.”

  I try not to reveal how this makes me feel, to know my husband has chosen to stay with Kat, after all that’s happened. The reverend surely wouldn’t understand my concern. He knows nothing about Kat chasing my husband across the mountains. “Well then, how can I help?” I try to ignore the warning flares my nerves are sending. “Henry’s welcome to stay here, of course. And I can cook. Just tell me what you need.”

  Isabel spills the bowl of beads, and I lean to collect them, trying to catch as many as I can before they roll through the cracks of the porch.

  “Thanks, Millie. Bump said you would understand. I’ll let the sheriff know he can bring Henry here. He’ll appreciate that.”

  “You sure I shouldn’t go to Longmont?” I pass the bowl of beads to Oka, hoping to keep them out of Isabel’s reach.

  “No need. They’ll be heading home soon, I’m sure. You’d probably pass them on the way.”

  “You’ll let me know if anything changes?” I say this to the reverend, but I look at Oka, hoping she’ll tell me what to do.

  Oka has sat quietly through this entire conversation. Now, she gives me a look that says, “I’m sorry.”

  “Of course.” With that, the reverend stands to leave. I stand too.

  “Stay for supper?” I ask. “Venison chili. Plenty to share.”

  “Sure sounds good, but I need to head on over to Halpin’s place. Check on Henry. Figure out the plan.”

  “I’ll send enough for all of you,” I insist. He follows me inside where I scoop him an oversized serving bowl before he heads on his way.

  “Well, one thing’s for sure,” the reverend says. “With food like this, Bump won’t stay gone long.” I sigh, knowing what Kat offers Bump is much more tempting than food.

  Little Henry plays with Isabel in the yard, rolling her birthday ball all around her. She reaches to grab it. Misses. Laughs. Tries again.

  “When’s the last time you heard from Kat?” I ask the sheriff. He’s taking me up on my offer to keep Henry. They’ve just arrived, and now he places a bag of Henry’s clothes on the porch swing.

  “She called two days ago.” Halpin kicks at a post. “Didn’t sound too good.”

  “Did she say when they were coming home?” I still haven’t heard from Bump, and my patience is wearing thin. I can’t count the number of times I’ve almost gotten in the truck and driven to Longmont. I probably would have done just that, if I wasn’t afraid of what I’d find when I got there. It’s now been nearly a week, and he’s still not home.

  “She just said ‘soon.’” The sheriff avoids eye contact, and I’m certain he’s having the same fears as me.

  “Did you talk to Bump?” I try not to sound as desperate as I feel.

  “Afraid not.” He spits off the porch and leans against the post, crossing his arms.

  I’ve already imagined every possible scenario. “What if they ran off the road?” I ask. “They could have driven off into the canyon.”

  “I’m sure they’re fine, Millie.” He doesn’t say what everyone is thinking. That my husband has run off with Kat. That they’re never coming back. That they’re long gone. “This came in last night for you.” He pulls a telegram from his shirt pocket. “I read it. It’s from Bump. You understand.”

  I take the paper and read it aloud. My voice shakes. So do my hands. “‘Need more time in Longmont. Be home soon.’ That’s it?”

  “Just what it says there, I’m afraid.” The sheriff shrugs, as if even he can’t reason this.

  Oka and Fortner have noticed the sheriff’s car and are making their way toward us from the barn. “You know where they’re staying?”

  Halpin shakes his head. “No, but I’m going to find out. This has gone on long enough.”

  Fortner and Oka move to the porch and ask for an update. I read the telegram again, aloud. “Kat need to come home to her son,” Oka tells the sheriff. She’s trying to defend me, by putting the blame all on Kat. But I know better. Bump’s to blame too.

  “From the looks of it, he’s not missing his mother all that much.” Fortner pushes the sheriff a bit too hard with this comment, but as we all look out and see Henry playing happily with Isabel, there’s no denying the truth. Kat has put Henry on the back burner since learning the news that her husband had died. We all know he hasn’t been her priority for a long time.

  The sheriff lets Fortner’s comment slide, lowering his voice and saying instead, “He won’t stop asking for his grampy. I don’t think it’s my place to tell him. It’ll break his heart.”

  We all watch Henry playing with Isabel, and I wish I could shelter this child from yet another loss. “I’m going with you,” I tell the sheriff. He’s right about one thing. This has gone on long enough.

  “Best you wait at home,” Halpin says, the same tone he used at Kat’s dinner party, when he called me little lady. “I’ll start at the telegraph office in town and track back from there. I’ll send Bump home as soon as I find them.”

  “But I can help,” I argue. “I should go.”

  “If you really want to help, stay here and keep Henry.”

  Chapter 30

  “Kat’s bound to come back for Henry soon,” I tell Oka over breakfast. Henry waddles into the kitchen with messy morning hair and a sleepy smile. He doesn’t ask for Kat, but he does say, “Where’s Grampy?”

  Oka looks at Henry but says nothing. We both know Kat left him for the whole summer without a single tear. I’m kidding myself to think he’s enough to bring her home. I’d like to believe there really was a time when Henry meant the world to Kat. But as Bump said, grief can change a person. And Kat has been dealt more than her fair share of loss, that’s for sure.

  “I have to go to Longmont,” I say. Then I lower my voice to a whisper, turn my back so Henry can’t hear me. “I can’t just sit here while she steals my husband.”

  Oka shakes her head as if this whole situation is a sorry, pitiful scene.

  “I’ll take care of breakfast. You should have plenty of soup left for supper. I’ll keep the kids busy this morning and leave when I put them down for a nap. They should be able to play this afternoon without being too much trouble for you.”

  “It no trouble,” Oka waves her hand.

  “Thank you, Oka.” I give her a hug and thank her again in Choctaw. “Yakoki.”

  After breakfast, I bring Henry and Isabel outside. I can’t stop moving. I’ve paced the entire fencerow, carrying Isabel in spurts when she’s too tired to toddle behind. Henry manages to keep up, barely. I’ve convinced him we’re on a hunt for dinosaurs, looking for footprints, bite marks, scratches, and scrapes. Anything to take Henry’s mind off of his grandfather and my mind off of Bump.

  My questions are endless. Has Bump worried about the ranch at all? Does he care that I haven’t slept? Has he thought about little Henry, crying for his grampy? Or Isabel, crying for her daddy? Nothing about this situation makes any sense, and as the minutes turn into hours, and the hours become days, I am losing faith in my husband. I’m afraid to accept what everyone else is already thinking. That Bump has chosen Kat. My emotions shift from fear to rage, and from sadness to disbelief. I am a wreck.

  “Maybe Firefly can help us catch a dinosaur,” I suggest. “Let’s go ask her.” I lead Henry and Isabel to the barn. There we brush Firefly before draping the saddle blanket over her strong, muscular back. All I want to do is ride away, as fast as Firefly can take me, but I’m here, taking care of Kat’s child, while she’s the one who breaks free. With my husband.

  I pull the saddle over Firefly’s back and adjust the stirrups to fit Henry’s short legs. I’ll lead him around the pasture, let him pretend he’s a dinosaur hunter. Then I’ll put them down for naps, and I’ll drive straight to Longmont. No more delays. I have to find my husband. I’ll start at the hospital. Someone’s bound to know something.

  I’
ve just tightened the last saddle strap when Oka finds me. “Millicent?” she calls. “Someone here to see you.”

  The sun shines in from outside the barn door, blocking my view, so I move to greet our guest. By the time my eyes adjust, my hand is in his, and chills are tracing my spine.

  Oka leads the introductions, “Mrs. Anderson—Mr. Greene.” Dark hair, rough beard. Can it be?

  “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Anderson,” he says. My knees buckle. It’s all I can do to stay upright. There’s no question about it. This is not just any Mr. Greene. This is River Greene. River. It’s River. He has found me.

  “Likewise, Mr. Greene,” I answer. “How can I help you?” His shirt is dirty, his nails, too. He doesn’t quite match the perfect image I’ve carried in my memory. But still.

  “I’m here about the yearlings. Heard you had the best in the region.” That voice—the same one that quoted Fitzgerald to me beneath the clouds.

  “In whole country,” Oka corrects him.

  “Says a lot for you, Mrs. Anderson.” River smiles at me, and I am sixteen again. In a field of flowers, at a gypsy camp, falling away from the fires and onto the silvery trail of a magic moon. I am in braids and bare feet, a lonely girl in need of love. And this man in my barn is the boy, River, a loner among a traveling clan. We are mending together under the stars, talking of dreams and stories and faith. He is kissing me. My first kiss. Telling me he’ll return. For me.

  “Millicent?” Oka draws me from my daydream, and I stutter.

  “Y-yes. Let’s go see about those horses.” I quickly unsaddle Firefly and leave her in the stall. The dinosaur hunt can wait.

  I lead River out to the pasture and Oka follows. Henry and Isabel trail behind. River walks with us as if this is any normal situation. Perhaps he doesn’t recognize me. Maybe he hasn’t yet figured that I’m the same Millie of his youth. I should tell him to come back when my husband is home. I should leave him with the horses while I surrender to the solitude of the house. Somewhere safe from the mystery.