by Janet Dailey
“We remember how dry it was, Rube,” the Major interrupted.
“Yes, sir, I know you do.” Rube nodded respectfully. “I s’pose now you’ll be sendin’ me back out there to find that mare. If she’s got the roamin’ itch, ain’t no tellin’ how far she might have wandered. Why, she could be—”
“No, I don’t think it will be necessary,” Holt stated. “She’ll probably come back in a day or two—few-water, if nothing else.”
“She might not,” Rube argued. “I told you, we’ve had us some rains. She wouldn’t be needin’ to come back here for water. She could find it up there, especially if she joined up with some wild ones.”
“This is her home range. The mare isn’t likely to stray far from it. She has never shown any inclination to wander before,” Holt pointed out.
“That don’t mean nothin’.” Rube started to spit out a stream of tobacco juice in disgust and remembered in time he was in the Major’s house. “There ain’t nothin’ that can get wilder than a tame horse after it’s tasted its first bit of freedom. Every wild horse came from your so-called tame stock. There weren’t no such thing as a wild horse until them Spaniards brought over their ridin’ horses. A few got loose and—”
“Lunch is ready.” Sophie’s announcement came just in time to spare them from a history lesson on the introduction of the horse to North America.
“Well, if you don’t think I need to go a-lookin’ for that mare, I’ll get back to my work. I won’t be keepin’ you from your food,” Rube said and sniffed the air appreciatively. “Sure smells good. I don’t remember the last time I et food that didn’t come from a can.”
Diana took the broad hint and suggested, “Why don’t you join us, Rube? There is plenty for all of us.”
“I wouldn’t want to be imposin’ on you.” But he was already moving toward the table. “As long as you’re sure you have enough, it’d be a real treat for me.”
“Of course we do,” Diana assured him and hid a smile at the Major’s exasperated, yet twinkling, look. “You just sit down anywhere, Rube, and I’ll bring in another place setting.”
When everyone was seated, Diana was at the opposite end of the rectangular table from her father, with Guy on her right and Rube Spencer on her left. After the Major had said grace, everyone was too busy passing the dishes of food to talk.
The concentration remained on the food until Guy recalled, “You used to catch wild horses when you were young, didn’t you, Rube?”
“Sure did,” he answered between mouthfuls. “But that was way before your time. Hel——” A glance at the Major and he quickly changed it to: “Heck, I was just a kid myself back then, younger than you. Those were the times, racin’ pell-mell through the sage after a band of bangtails, knowin’ if your horse put a foot wrong, you’d both break your neck.” His eyes were shining as he talked, remembering the danger and the excitement. Then he sighed and came back to the present. “Course, that was before they made that law to protect ’em.”
“But if it wasn’t for the law, there wouldn’t be any mustangs left,” Guy pointed out.
“Yeah, well, there’s a sight too many of ’em now,” Rube insisted. “A wild horse ain’t got no more natural enemies now, ’cept man. Oh, there’s a rare mountain lion around here and there. An’ once in a while, a coyote will bring down a cripple or an old horse. But the rest of the mustangs—” He shrugged to indicate there were no predators to threaten them.
“There isn’t a more beautiful sight than a wild horse running free.” Diana ignored his practical argument. “I was riding up an arroya once and rounded a bend. There was a mustang. I’ll never forget the way he lifted his head and snorted at me in alarm before he bolted for the hills.”
“Shore, it’s a beautiful sight,” Rube agreed. “So is comin’ on a doe and her fawn, but if it wasn’t for hunters keepin’ down the number of deer, they’d be the plague of every farmer and rancher in the country. I ain’t sayin’ I want to get rid of all the mustangs. I’m like the Major here”—he gestured toward his boss with his fork—“and most of the ranchers. I don’t mind sharin’ the range with wild horses. But the rancher knows what it’s like when there’s a bad year. A horse, just like any other animal, has got to have so much land to forage on. If an area gets overcrowded and a dry spell comes along, it ain’t a pretty sight to see then. Bags of bones strippin’ bark from the sagebrush.” Rube shuddered. “I’ve seen it. And I’d rather see a horse shot than die like that.”
“It culls the herds,” Holt inserted. “The weak die out and the strong survive.”
“Maybe so,” Rube conceded.
“In a bad year, couldn’t the government feed them?” Diana suggested.
“Soon they wouldn’t be wild horses if they started doin’ that. They would get like the bears, waitin’ by the roadside beggin’ for a handout. An’ those proud, wild creatures you keep picturin’ wouldn’t exist. No.” Rube shook his head. “If they’re goin’ to be wild, let ’em be wild. But it you want ’em tame, then I say round ’em up.”
“I wouldn’t like to see that.” Diana shook her head.
“Neither would I,” agreed Guy. “Remember that time when Alan’s waterholes dried up,” he said, referring to the owner of the neighboring ranch, “and the Bureau rounded up the herd of wild horses ranging on his place? The Major took us over to see them because I’d never seen a wild horse. They didn’t look like much, standing in that corral, their heads hanging.”
“Yes, and you begged me to open the gate and let them loose,” the Major recalled. “It took a long time before I could convince you, and you, too, Diana, that catching those horses had been a humane act.”
“I remember.” Guy nodded with a boyish grin.
“A wild horse ain’t much to look at when he’s caught,” Rube stated. “If them goddamned Easterners that are always screamin’ at Washington to save the wild horses, if they ever saw one, they’d laugh their sides out. Half the little school kids think they’re savin’ Fury. Them mustangs are the shortest, scrawniest, ugliest bunch of nags you’ll ever see. Most city folks think a wild horse is goin’ to look like the Major’s A-rabs. What we should do is get us a bunch of them Easterners out here, plant ’em in a saddle, and ride ’em three or four hours out into them desert mountains where they can see a herd for themselves. But they ain’t interested in seein’ a wild horse. They just want to know that they’re out here. Hell, they’re out here, all right,” he muttered, oblivious to the reproving look from the Major. “Too goddamned many of ’em, I say. Why, of all the wild horses left in this country, half of ’em are here in Nevada. More’n fifty thousand, some say.”
“Not all the wild horses that I’ve seen were poor specimens.” Diana handed the platter of meat to Rube and he took a second helping. “Some had good conformation and a well-muscled build.”
“That comes from ranch stock that’s strayed. Introduces new blood to a herd that’s been inbreeding for years.”
“Plus I believe the army turned some remount stallions loose when they disbanded the cavalry,” the Major inserted as further explanation of Rube’s statement. “That was some years ago, of course.”
“No matter what they look like, it is still a thrill to see them.” Diana looked up from her plate after she spoke, accidentally glancing in Holt’s direction. She saw the cynical glint in his eye. “You haven’t taken much part in this conversation, Holt. What is your position on the wild-horse issue?” she asked with sardonic politeness.
“As it stands now”—his cool gaze swept the people sitting around the table—“you and Guy have come down strongly on the side of the mustang. Rube is for the ranchers. The Major has diplomatically decided to stay in the middle of the road. The score is two for the horses, one for the rancher, and one abstention.” Holt ignored the housekeeper and her opinion, but Sophie seemed to take it for granted that he would. “I cast my vote with Rube. I’m against the law that protects the mustangs.” He gave Diana a mocking look.
“I expect you and Guy will now accuse me of being in favor of shooting Bambi.”
“Are you?” Diana questioned, bristling under his taunting regard.
“Yes,” he answered simply.
“I thought as much,” she retorted.
“Do you two ever agree on anything?” The Major smiled.
“Never.” Diana stabbed her fork at the last bite of meat on her plate.
“Shall I bring the dessert in now, Major?” Sophie asked.
“Yes, please.” He nodded.
“I’ll help you.” Diana pushed her chair away from the table and rose, needing to escape, however temporarily, from Holt’s presence.
On her third day home, Diana decided it was time she paid a visit to Peggy Thornton. Holt’s information that the sordid lies surrounding her divorce had reached her home community initially made Diana want to isolate herself at the ranch, but she realized that was impossible. It would only give credence to the stories.
So far, the Major hadn’t asked any questions about the reasons for the divorce. As long as Diana wasn’t certain whether he had heard the rumors, she wasn’t going to bring up the subject, not if there was a chance he didn’t know. The avoidance of the topic made her tense, prompting the decision to spend a few hours away from the ranch.
After lunch, she took one of the ranch pickups and drove the few miles to Peggy’s. Diana hadn’t visited the Thornton ranch since the summer she and Rand were married. It hadn’t prospered in the interim.
Broken fence posts were propped up and staked into position, rather than being replaced by new ones. The white paint on the house was chipped and peeling, giving the small home a moth-eaten appearance. Toys were scattered across the front porch and into the yard. The car parked under a tree was the same one Alan had owned when he and Peggy were married.
With a sense of depression, Diana stepped out of the truck and walked to the front porch. A cacophony greeted her at the screen door: a radio blaring, children’s voices, the banging of pots and pans, and a baby crying. Diana knocked loudly, uncertain whether it would be heard over the racket inside.
A figure appeared behind the wire mesh. “Yes?” The question was followed instantly by a delighted cry of recognition. “Diana! Come in!” The screen door was pushed open.
“Hello, Peggy.” But the smile she gave her friend didn’t reach her eyes.
The woman looked thin and tired, no doubt caused by the squawling baby she was bouncing on her hip. There was no luster to her auburn hair, although her brown eyes were as bright and twinkling as ever.
“I heard you were back,” Peggy said and paused to scold the three-year-old girl sitting on the kitchen floor amidst an assortment of pots and pans. “I told you to stay out of the cupboards, Sara. Go outside and play with your toys.” A lower lip jutted out in brief mutiny before the carrot-haired child obeyed. “Kids!” Peggy laughed and shook her head in mock despair. “You spend all that money for toys, and they’d rather play with your aluminum pans.”
“I’ve come at a bad time, haven’t I?” Diana murmured apologetically. The baby on Peggy’s hip was still crying and trying to jam a small fist into his open mouth. “I should have called.”
“Believe it or not, this is a good time.” Peggy laughed and walked to the old stove, where a bottle was warming in a pan of water on a burner. “It’s chaos around here anytime. Right now, you are in luck because one is sleeping.” She tested the temperature of the milk on the inside of her wrist, somehow managing to avoid dropping the wiggling baby, and slid the nipple into its searching mouth. “And little Brian here soon will be,” she crooned to the hungrily sucking infant. “Sara should be taking her nap. That is the real trick—getting all three of them to sleep at the same time.”
“You have three children?” Diana had lost track over the years.
“Sara is three. Amy will be two in July. And Brian is four months, the apple of his daddy’s eye. And all of them are in diapers,” Peggy sighed. “I have to count Sara because she still wears them when she goes to bed. But Alan finally has his little boy. He’s been working so hard lately that he hasn’t had much of a chance to enjoy him. Brian always seems to be sleeping whenever Alan is home. He loves the girls, too, but a son is something special for a man.”
“Yes, I know,” Diana murmured.
“Goodness! Here I’ve been so busy jabbering away that I haven’t even offered you a chair or something to drink. Sit down.” Her hands were occupied feeding and holding the baby, so she nodded with her head toward the chairs at the kitchen table. “There’s still some coffee in the pot that I can warm up, or would you rather have something cold?”
“Neither, Peggy, thanks.” She sat down in one of the chairs and Peggy moved to another.
“I’m so glad you came over. When I heard you were back, I wanted to stop by and welcome you home, but I don’t have anyone to take care of the kids. With your father being ill, I didn’t want to bring my noisy trio over there. Alan has been working so late in the evenings that by the time I’ve fixed him supper and washed the dishes, it’s time for bed.”
“I understand.”
“Tell me, how is the happy divorcee getting along?” When Diana whitened at the terminology, Peggy’s bright expression was immediately replaced with a look of concern. “I’m sorry. That was a bad choice, wasn’t it? I know the divorce must have hurt you. I didn’t mean to put my foot in it.”
“You’ve heard, haven’t you?” Diana asked in a calm, level voice.
Peggy didn’t pretend not to know what Diana was talking about. “That gossip about your extramarital activities.” She wrinkled her nose in dismissal. “It sounded like a bunch of nonsense to me, unless you had changed drastically, which I don’t think you have.”
“None of the stories was true. Rand did accuse me of having affairs ...”
“Why? I mean, surely ...” Peggy hesitated, trying to word her question tactfully.
“It was one of those crazy, mixed-up things. Rand knew a lot of important people—executives of various mining firms, as well as state officials. After we were married, he was always reminding me to be nice to them. If they asked me to play tennis or golf or dance, I was supposed to accept. I was to always smile and be friendly, treat them specially. It was important to him and his work,” Diana explained, glad to have someone she could speak freely with. “So I did it to please him. Then Rand began believing I was being more than just ‘nice’ to them. He became so jealous that I stopped accepting the invitations altogether. It didn’t help. Rand accused me of sneaking off to meet them behind his back. Those arguments just led to more, until finally neither of us could take anymore. Too many things were said in anger that couldn’t be forgotten or forgiven.”
“It must have been rough,” Peggy sympathized, “but in the long run, I’m sure everything will work out for the best.” She tipped her head to the side. “Do you still love him?”
“I don’t know what I feel.” Confused, she ran a hand through the black silk of her hair. “I tried to be so sure I’d made the right choice before we were married. And to have it all turn out like this ...” Her voice trailed off in defeat.
“To tell you the truth, I wasn’t surprised when I heard you were getting a divorce. I had a feeling you were headed for trouble when you married him, but I was hoping I was wrong.”
Diana frowned. “What made you think it was a mistake?”
“There were two things, I think.” She paused to set the empty bottle on the table and lifted the baby to her shoulder to burp him. “You and Rand had such a totally different outlook on things. You were raised in the shadow of your father, and I don’t think there is a higher-principled man around than the Major. I don’t mean that he’s a saint or that he expects you to be one, but he has certain values that you have acquired simply by being exposed to them all your life. Rand lived in an essentially political world where the end justified the means. I wouldn’t be surprised if the accusations he made against you weren�
��t what he would have done if the roles had been reversed. Do you see what I mean?”
“Yes, I think I do,” Diana sighed. “I only wish you had mentioned the way you felt before.”
“I don’t think it would have done any good.” Peggy rubbed the baby’s back and glanced ruefully at her younger friend. “You seemed to be more impressed with the fact that your father approved of your choice than with any one else’s opinion of Rand. You’ve always been more concerned about his reaction to what you do ... or don’t do. It’s natural, I suppose, that he became the central figure in your life. Your mother died when you were so young. But sometimes I think you consider his opinion too important. I hope I haven’t offended you by saying so.”
“You haven’t, and you’re probably right, too.” Her marriage to Rand had virtually been over a year ago, but she had refused to admit it because she hadn’t wanted to face the Major with her failure. Perhaps if she hadn’t been so stubborn, a divorce a year ago might have been a less embittered and abusive one.
Peggy was looking beyond Diana. “Here comes Alan.” She frowned. “I wonder what’s wrong.” She glanced down to the baby, his head resting against her shoulder in sleep. “Wouldn’t you know it? Brian is asleep again. Alan is going to think he’s never awake.” There were footsteps on the porch. “Hi, honey.” Peggy smiled the greeting when the screen door opened.
“Hi.” His smile was a tired one as he walked in with his red-haired daughter skipping alongside him. “Hello, Diana.” He nodded to her. “Welcome home. I saw the pickup outside and wondered who had stopped over from the Major’s.”
“Hello, Alan. How are you?” She returned his greeting.
“Fine.” He glanced at Peggy. “Is there any beer in the refrigerator?”
“There should be,” Peggy answered, then rose to get him one when he sat down at the table. “I’m glad to see you, but I thought you said you would be working all afternoon.”
