Affair of the Heart

by Joan Wolf

  His hands must have tightened on the reins, for his own horse began to sidle. He swore under his breath. “I couldn’t agree more,” she said icily. They finished their ride in inimical silence.

  * * * *

  Hank Rogers rode into the barn corral as Caroline and Jay were unsaddling their horses. He had a small boy in the saddle in front of him, and he gave Caroline a courteous nod before he said, “Mary Anne’s here, Jay. Your dad brought her back from Sheridan a while ago.”

  “Oh?” Jay looked surprised. “I didn’t know she was coming out.”

  “I think your dad thought she’d be company for Miss Carruthers.”

  “I see.” Jay’s face suddenly broke into a smile. “Hi there, Gary,” he said to the child. “How’s the fella?”

  “Fine,” the little boy replied with a grin. “I’m helping my dad.”

  “I can see that. I sure wish I had a fine helper like you.”

  “You can borrow him anytime,” the foreman said dryly, and Jay laughed.

  “Is the lady helping you?” Gary asked.

  Jay’s smile faded. “This is Miss Carruthers, Gary. She’s visiting my dad for a while.”

  Caroline ignored her stepbrother and, stepping forward, held out her hand. “Hi, Gary,” she said. “You can call me Caroline.”

  The little boy shook hands. “You have pretty hair,” he said earnestly.

  “Thank you, sweetheart.” She smiled. “And you have some pretty sharp boots there.”

  The little boy swelled with pride, and Hank Rogers chuckled. “He just got them for his birthday.”

  “Jay gave them to me,” said the child and bestowed a dazzling smile on her stepbrother.

  “They look good, Gar,” Jay said.

  “Well, we’re on our way to the farm,” said Hank. “I just wanted to let you know about Mary Anne.”

  Jay stepped back. “Thanks, Hank.” He watched the man ride out of the corral and then turned back to his own horse.

  “What an adorable child,” Caroline said. “How old is he?”

  “Four. He’s Hank’s youngest.”

  “Do they live here on the ranch?” she asked curiously.

  “Yes. They have the house at the other end of the valley.”

  “How do the children get to school? It’s so remote here.”

  “Madeleine drives them to meet the school bus out at 14. From there it’s about forty miles to school.”

  “That’s a long day for small children,” she said.

  He shrugged. “I did it. It’s not bad.” They had finished with the horses, and now he said, “You’d better come along and meet Mary Anne.”

  “Is she the particular you were talking about?” Caroline asked as they were walking toward the house.

  “Yes,” he said briefly. Then, as if some other information were necessary, “Her father owns a hardware store in Sheridan. Mary Anne’s a teacher there.”

  “I see,” said Caroline quietly and walked past him into the house.

  Joe and Mary Anne were having lemonade in the living room when Caroline walked in. “Great, you’re back,” Joe said genially and stood up. The girl followed his lead, and Joe made introductions. “This is Caroline Carruthers, Mary Anne, Jay’s stepsister from Washington. Caroline, this is Mary Anne Barton.”

  “Hello, Mary Anne,” Caroline said with a friendly smile.

  “Hi,” the girl replied and smiled back. She was very pretty, Caroline thought, taking in the short dark curls, big brown eyes, and flashing dimple. She was about Caroline’s age.

  “This is a surprise,” Jay’s voice said behind Caroline, and as she watched the other girl’s vivid face lit up with welcome. Jay was definitely the one who was undecided, Caroline thought, as she watched the two of them. The way Mary Anne looked at him, she’d marry him tomorrow if he wanted.

  “I was helping Dad in the store when your father descended,” she was saying now with a laugh.

  “Yep,” said Joe complacently. “I thought we ought to take Caroline on a pack trip up to Solitude,” he explained to his son. “You’ve got to get up into the hills to see the real Wyoming,” he added, turning to Caroline.

  “Joe’s right,” Mary Anne put in. “Solitude’s one of the most beautiful places in the world— you really ought to see it.”

  “It’s a bit of a ride,” Joe said, “but we’ll take it easy for you.”

  “You don’t need to take it easy for Caroline.” Jay went over to pour himself a glass of lemonade. “She’s been in the saddle all day and she’s fresh as a daisy.”

  Caroline ignored him. “What is Solitude?” she asked.

  “It’s a lake,” Mary Anne explained. “Way up in Bighorn high country.” She smiled at Caroline. “It’s pretty special.”

  “I’d love to see it,” Caroline said sincerely.

  “When do you want to go, Dad?”

  “Day after tomorrow. That all right with you?”

  “Sure. Things are quiet now.”

  Mary Anne sparkled up at Jay. “The Wilderness Society dance is in Sheridan this weekend. You haven’t forgotten, have you?”

  Caroline excused herself while he was answering and went upstairs to shower and change.

  Chapter Five

  The pack trip into high country was one of the most indelible experiences of Caroline’s life. They rode for hours through the mountains, always climbing, with only the blowing of the horses and the creak of leather to break the silence. Caroline was awed by the wild beauty and epic grandeur of the country through which they rode. They stopped when they reached Misty Moon Lake, and her breath caught with the beauty of it, still, serene, surrounded by the high points of Cloud Peak and Bomber Mountain.

  They pushed on across another pass until they came to Solitude, and there they made camp. Jay got a fire going and Joe broiled them all a steak.

  “How do you like it?” the big rancher asked Caroline as they all sat comfortably around the fire.

  She smiled a little. “There aren’t words.” She clasped her arms around her knees. “America is amazing. You travel to all these great places in Europe—the Alps, the Riviera—and then you come back here and we’ve got it all.” She looked up at the night sky. “More,” she added softly.

  “If only we have the sense to keep what we have,” Mary Anne put in. “Here in Wyoming we have some of the most spectacular and extensive areas of unspoiled land in the country. We want to keep it that way.”

  “Is that the purpose of this Wilderness Society I heard you mention?” Caroline asked.

  “Yes. Someone once called Wyoming ‘the land of high altitudes and low multitudes,’ and we want it to stay that way.”

  “I don’t blame you,” said Caroline sincerely.

  Shortly after that they unrolled their sleeping bags and turned in for the night.

  Caroline fell asleep almost immediately. As a teenager she had done a lot of camping, so sleeping on the ground was not an unfamiliar sensation. She awoke a few hours later, however, and rolled over to stare at the sky. After a few minutes she crawled out of her bag and went down to the lake. Deep down in the clear dark mirror of the water, half a million diamond points of light flashed up at her. She sat down on the ground. The air was cold and clear and she was beginning to feel chilled, but she didn’t want to move.

  She didn’t hear Jay until he appeared beside her. “When you didn’t come back, I got worried,” he said softly. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.” She turned back to the lake. “Look,” she said. “The heavens are looking up at us.”

  He sat down beside her, and neither of them spoke. For the first time the tension that always vibrated between them was gone. “It’s true what Wordsworth once wrote,” she murmured softly:

  “From Nature doth emotion come, and moods Of calmness equally are Nature’s gift: This is her glory ...”

  “That’s very nice,” he said quietly after a minute. “I never had much use for poetry, but that is nice.”

&nb
sp; “My prep school was big on poetry and terrible on science,” she said. She rested her chin on her updrawn knees. “I love Wordsworth.”

  “He sounds as if he’s from Wyoming,” said Jay, and Caroline chuckled.

  “My uncle swears he belonged in Maine.”

  “You have family in Maine?” He too was looking out at the lake, but for the first time he sounded genuinely interested in her. The hostility was gone.

  “Yes. My mother was from Maine, and her brother still lives there. When I was growing up I spent a lot of summers in Northport.”

  “How old were you when your mother died?”

  “Seven. I don’t really remember her much. She died in a boating accident. I spent the summers with my aunt and uncle and cousins.” She rested her cheek on her updrawn knees and looked at him. As if feeling her gaze, he turned his own head. “So, along with that decadent Virginia upbringing, I’ve got some tough downeaster in me as well.” she said teasingly.

  He didn’t smile. “It doesn’t sound as if you saw much of your father, what with boarding school and summers in Maine.”

  “It was difficult for him,” she said excusingly. “I mean, his jobs weren’t exactly nearby. But I always flew out to spend Christmas with him and Nancy, no matter where they were.”

  “Big of him,” Jay said sarcastically.

  She refused to be drawn. “I didn’t mind. I had my grandmother. She’s the one who raised me, really.”

  “Your father’s mother?”

  “Yes. She died two years ago.”

  “I see.”

  Caroline looked back at the lake. For the first time it occurred to her that some people might find her upbringing unusual. It hadn’t seemed at all odd to her up until now. The girls she had gone to school with were mainly from broken families, and most of their lives had been as nomadic as hers. They lived at school and on vacation went to a vast variety of residences. Home had been wherever they happened to be at present. Caroline’s life, in fact, had been one of the more stable.

  “Most people don’t stay in the same place for very long anymore,” she said confusedly, trying to explain.

  “Most Eastern people,” he said.

  She bit her lip, feeling on the defensive suddenly. “How long has your family been in Wyoming?” she asked.

  “My great-grandfather came out here from Scotland,” he told her. “He was a younger son and came to America to make his fortune. He built the Double Diamond.” His profile was shadowy in the starlight. “There were no fences in those days,” he went on musingly. “The range was for those who ran cattle on it. And cattle thrive here. There’s no grass in the world like Wyoming grass, you know. It’s like a miracle. Every spring, another miracle springing out of the earth. The green grass of Wyoming.” His voice was soft, reverent even.

  Caroline was oddly stirred by his words and remained silent. He seemed to come out of his own reverie. “Anyway,” he concluded, “the Hamiltons have been here since before Wyoming became a state. Our roots go pretty deep.”

  “Yes,” said Caroline softly. “I can see they do.” She cleared her throat. “The Carrutherses were planters before the war,” she volunteered. Caroline was Southern enough that when she spoke of “the war” it could only refer to one. “They fought for the South and lost everything, of course. Then, being essentially survivors, they decided if you can’t lick ‘em, join ‘em, and went to work for the government.” A breeze had sprung up and was blowing her hair around her face. She pushed it back. “My grandfather was a Treasury Secretary, and he built Pemberly, our house near Middleburgh. But Daddy doesn’t get much chance to stay there. His job takes him all over the world.”

  “Do you live at Pemberly?” A strand of long blond hair blew against his cheek, and he said, a little harshly, “Don’t you have a ribbon or something?”

  “Not in my pocket.” She tucked her hair underneath the crew neck of her sweater. “I have an apartment in Washington,” she said then composedly. “I go down to Pemberly weekends during the winter. To hunt.”

  He grunted. “I couldn’t stand living in an apartment. I’d suffocate.”

  “You probably would,” she agreed, her husky voice very soft, “if you’re used to this.” The wind was blowing harder now, and she shivered.

  He rose to his feet with fluid grace. “It’s getting cold. You’d better get back into your sleeping bag.”

  “Yes,” she said, and stood up also. Her foot had gone to sleep, and she stumbled a little, instinctively reaching out for support. Her hand closed on his forearm. “Sorry,” she murmured, feeling the hard muscle beneath the soft, well-washed flannel.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.” She looked up into his face, and it was there between them again, that unmistakable electricity. For a wild moment she thought he was going to pull her into his arms, and then he stepped back, gesturing to her to precede him. She did, wordlessly. As she lay, sleepless, in the warmth of her sleeping bag, Caroline knew she would have gone into his arms like a shot if he had made the motion. She was thoroughly disgusted with herself. He didn’t want anything to do with her, that was depressingly obvious, yet just for a few minutes tonight she had felt as if they were really communicating. She had thought he understood what she was feeling. And then the old barriers had come up and they were left looking at each other over the fence of his distrust and contempt. The hell with him, Caroline thought violently and turned over on her side and closed her eyes with determination. Who needs him, anyway? Eventually she went back to sleep.

  * * * *

  They were up early the next morning, and Jay cooked breakfast for them over the fire. The day was clear, the sky a deep brilliant blue. Almost as dark a blue as Jay’s eyes, Caroline found herself thinking. She looked at him as he drank his coffee. No. Nothing was that dark. Next to him, Mary Anne stirred with content. “What richness,” the other girl murmured. “To have this right in your own backyard.”

  “Yes,” said Caroline. She got up and went over to her pack, moving like a boy, slim-hipped and long legged in her Levi’s. She fished out a brush, sat down at a distance from the rest of the group, and began to smooth out the tangles in her hair. It gleamed in the sunshine as she worked, a curious mixture of dark and light blond, healthy and shining. It reached well below her shoulders. She put the brush down, flung back her head, and inhaled deeply.

  “Air smell good?” Joe asked teasingly.

  “Marvelous,” she replied. She extracted a ribbon from her pack and began to do her hair into one long thick braid.

  “You have lovely hair, Caroline.” It was Mary Anne’s voice. “Such an unusual color.”

  “Thanks.” Caroline suddenly grinned impishly. “And yes, I do help it along a little. The darker parts are mine, the lighter parts are courtesy of the bottle.”

  Joe chuckled. “Well, the result is real pretty.”

  “I like it better,” she replied candidly. “I got awfully sick of hearing myself described as a dirty blond.”

  Jay stood up. “Well, if everyone is finished ...” he said meaningfully.

  “I’ll wash up,” Mary Anne put in quickly. She came over to stand close to Jay. She was a small girl, and the top of her head just cleared his shoulder. She smiled up at him through her lashes.

  His answering smile looked as if it had cost him some effort. “Thanks,” he said. “I’ll saddle the horses.” Caroline waited until he had moved away before she went to help Mary Anne.

  The ride back to the Double Diamond was as spectacular as their ascent had been. Caroline’s emotions were heightened by the scenery, by the feel of the horse under her and the scent of pine and of horses that filled her nostrils. She was aware, with every nerve in her body, of the figure of her stepbrother riding in front of her. He seemed so much a part of this landscape in his faded flannel shirt and ancient Stetson hat. She wished suddenly that they could go on like this forever. As if he sensed her thoughts, he turned in the saddle.

  “Okay?” he
asked.

  “Yes.”

  He nodded and turned around again. Caroline wondered what it could be, this wild, soft, sweet, and exciting feeling that possessed her. It was the mountains, she thought. The beauty. The freedom.

  * * * *

  They reached the ranch late in the day and left their horses in the barn corral. Regent miraculously appeared and stayed by Jay’s legs as they walked up toward the house. There were four dogs about the ranch, but he was the only one allowed the freedom of the house.

  The Double Diamond ranch house was really lovely, Caroline thought as the four of them approached it across the lawn. It was built of granite which had faded to a softly dusty pink color that glowed a little in the late afternoon sun. The acre of lawn that surrounded it was lush and green. It needs some flower borders, she found herself thinking. And window boxes on the front terrace. It only wants a woman’s touch to make it truly beautiful.

  One of the two cats who lived at the ranch was stretched out on the terrace in the sun. “Well, how is the mother-to-be?” Jay asked in the special voice he used for animals, and the ginger cat stretched and gazed up at him out of golden eyes.

  “What a life!” Mary Anne said with a laugh.

  “She earns her keep. She catches at least one rat a day, don’t you, Marmy?” Jay rubbed a long narrow finger behind her ears and the cat’s eyes closed in sheer bliss.

  They walked in the big front door of the ranch house, and Ellen came out of the kitchen. “Here you are,” she said. “I’ve got dinner waiting. Go get washed up and come on down to the kitchen.”

  “Yes, Ellen,” they all chorused obediently and trooped upstairs.

  * * * *

  “I think I’ll come along to the Wilderness Society dance tomorrow night,” Joe said over a delicious beef casserole.

  Mary Anne smiled. “That would be great, Joe.”

  “I think Caroline would enjoy it,” the rancher went serenely on. “It would give her a chance to meet some Sheridan people.”

  Mary Anne’s smile never dimmed. “What a good idea.”

  “What kind of a dance is it?” Caroline asked. “I didn’t bring that many clothes.”