Loveland

by Andrea Downing

  “Maybe you should ask yourself how you would feel if he married someone else. What do you think ‘I wouldn’t want to be without him’ means?”

  Alex considered this a moment, pushing the truth, shoving the possible pain, aside. “I-I came back expecting he was married. Obviously, Uncle’s letters never mentioned the men and there was no word from you because of Helene’s mail being intercepted. I mean, I was married so I just sort of assumed that since he’s older…”

  “What did you feel?” Annie asked.

  Alex looked at her. “Deserted. I guess I felt alone and deserted. But then I felt that anyway after, you know, the whole business. I just wanted to get away from it all. I think I’m too numb still to feel anything really.”

  “You won’t find a better man than Jesse Makepeace, Alex.”

  “Yes, but that’s not the point. I don’t want to be in love with him because there’s not a better man. I have no intention of marrying. I want my freedom, not…well, you know…”

  “Freedom gives you choice, Alex. Having faith in him is a choice, hoping things go right is a choice, love is a choice. You think I’m tied to the house and kids and have no freedom? Is that it?”

  “But you’re happy. It’s what makes you happy, and you make Tom happy. I can see that. But I would just make Jesse miserable.”

  “Oh, hogwash. You don’t know what you want, Alex. I think you’ve been too hurt, had too many traumas in your young life to have cleared your head enough to know what you really want. You think on it. You think about life here without Jesse.” She stopped for a moment to look at her young friend standing there biting her nails. “Maybe because you didn’t have two parents who loved each other, who showed you what love really is.”

  “I had Helene,” Alex argued. “And I had David.”

  “Yes, and you have Tom and me. But maybe you’re just not able to recognize your feelings.”

  Alex paced a bit. She knew the older woman was trying to help her, trying to find the right words to ease her through the emotional tangle of growing up.

  Finally Annie went on, “Jesse’s such a good man, Alex. He’d make you so happy.”

  “But is that right? For me to love him because he’s a good man and my best friend. And for him to love me because maybe there’s no one else.”

  “First off, who should be your best friend but your husband? And secondly, there’s plenty else. Women are throwing themselves at Jesse Makepeace, don’t you kid yourself.”

  “Sara Beth for goodness sake?”

  “Yes, and I tell you Jesse wouldn’t touch Sara Beth with a forty foot lariat. She’s been after him since they were in school together here. He used to come back and tell us how she was following him about and he couldn’t shake her. But then there’s Nancy Roderick—”

  “All right, so what about Nancy Roderick?” Alex remembered the exchange at the bank and what Jesse had said afterward.

  “That’s quite another story. They were seeing each other for a while but Jesse pulled out, decided Nancy wasn’t for him and told her so straight.”

  “Because she’s independent and has a position in the bank?”

  “Because he loves this ranch, and is a born rancher and she works in a bank and has no interest in this life!”

  Alex thought about this for a while. “But I paint!”

  “Yes, you paint now. But you love this ranch as much as he does.”

  “Our backgrounds are different!”

  “And? You keep saying you want to stay here, you want your own money so you can stay here and not worry about what your father says.”

  “That’s not a reason to marry Jesse. Anyway, I can’t marry until I’m twenty-one, and by then he’ll be thirty-one.”

  “Are you worried about the age difference?”

  “No, of course not.”

  Annie looked at Alex long and hard. “It seems to me young lady you’re trying to convince yourself you’re not in love with him.”

  “No, Annie, I’m not. I’m not convinced I am in love with him. And I’m scared. What if we had a-a relationship, a romance, and it didn’t work out? What then? I’ll have lost both my best friend and my…my…whatever. Beau?”

  Annie scoffed. “You won’t lose him. Jesse Makepeace is not the kind of man to just walk away and leave someone.”

  “But if he was hurt? If we just couldn’t face each other as friends anymore?” Alex stopped and paced a bit. “What if, whatever it is I feel for him, whatever I feel that is deeper than just a friendship, turns out to be a young girl’s infatuation? I’m hardly out of one trauma and now we’re talking about a-a relationship.” Her voice trailed off and she chewed a nail. She looked up at Annie. “I wonder if Jesse just liked looking after the little girl, protecting her, and he thinks I’m that same little girl who needs protection?”

  “Alex, sweetheart. You are that same little girl who needs protection. You’re strong in so many ways but in so many others…”

  Alex sank into the chair by the fireplace, got up again and paced, still biting her nails. “Anyway,” she went on with some derision, “he’s angry at me now because I could use the bloody six-shooter and he thought he was showing me how. I hurt his pride.”

  Annie laughed and went back to drying dishes. “I doubt that was the reason, Alex. He probably just thought how talented you were, doing that, and couldn’t cope with what he felt so he stormed off.”

  Alex stopped and looked at her friend. “How do you know so much about men, Annie?”

  Annie glanced out the window. The children were riding in from school and she put the cloth down to get their meal ready. “Oh, Alex,” she said, “I guess it’s just experience.”

  ****

  On herd at night, circling around at a measured pace and singing softly to settle the cows, Jesse heard one of the other punchers whistling in the distance, and the soft lowing of the cattle in response. It was a clear evening, highlighted by a full moon, with shooting stars dashing through the heavens like travelers hurrying home. Nighthawking gave him time to think, and he remembered the feel of her arms about him, the perfume of her skin when he got close, the way her hair caught the light, and the depth of the green of her eyes. He thought about the way she smiled, as if she kept a special smile only for him, as if they shared a secret, as if they didn’t need their voices for each other.

  “Y’all got that high school thing, didn’t ya?” Reb rode up and broke into Jesse’s reveries. “You read that Shakespeare fella? Ain’t there lotsa kings an’ queens and that in them books?”

  “Plays, Reb. They’re plays by Shakespeare.” Jesse leaned forward in his saddle and rested his hands on the horn.

  “So, why do you reckon Lady Lex come back here like that? What’s she doin’ here anyways, comin’ back?”

  “First off, Reb, I don’t reckon somethin’ writ in the fifteen hundreds is any dang clue to the mind of Lady Alex. Second,” he added somewhat defensively, “what’s your dang problem with her bein’ here? Havin’ a woman ’round makes it sort of more homey, don’t you think? More civilized.”

  “Hell, I came west to escape civilized.” Reb spurred his horse into the darkness.

  Jesse laughed.

  When they met up again on the next circle round Reb said, “We got them dang nightriders and barn burnings and shootin’s now with all them new homesteaders movin’ in. Seems never-ending to me. Statehood was the worse dang thing ever happened to this place. Farms springin’ up all over the dang place. Sheepherders, for chrissake, ruinin’ our grass.”

  “Double F still controls the open range between the Cache and the Thompson,” Jesse reminded him.

  Reb snorted in response and went on round again. He wasn’t happy unless he had something to complain about.

  When they completed their next round Jesse asked, “Don’t you wonder what it’s like over there, where she comes from?”

  “Hell no, Jesse. You read too many of them damn books. You passed that diploma thing, didn�
��t you?”

  “I just said so, Reb.” Jesse didn’t answer too forcefully as he knew he was in for some criticism.

  “Way I heared it, Miz Dawson wanted you all to go on to that new university down at Boulder.”

  “Yup.” Jesse waited a moment for Reb to continue. “But—”

  “But nothin’, Jesse. Way you read, you shoulda been a doctor or a lawyer or somemat.”

  “I didn’t want to be a dang doctor or lawyer, Reb. I don’t wanna be stuffed inside all day.” His voice was getting heated. “You got that?”

  “Yeah, I got that. Thing is, way I see it, you’re lookin’ moony ever’ time Lady Lex walks by and you ain’t nothin’ but a two-bit cowpuncher. You been a doctor or a lawyer, you mighta stood a chance. You got that?”

  “Yeah, I got that,” Jesse mumbled under his breath as Reb rode off again. “I got that good and clear.”

  ****

  Jonathon Sturgis’ letter finally arrived. It contained a clipping from The New York Times reviewing the mixed exhibition in which Alex’s paintings had been shown. Aside from his request for her to have ready some fifteen works for a solo exhibition in New York in October, which he would like her to attend, he also wished to pay a visit to the ranch at some stage to see how she was doing. It was all good news, and the review was particularly glowing. Alex read it out to her uncle during afternoon tea in the drawing room.

  Oliver didn’t look up but ruffled his newspaper before reaching for his cup. “I’m off to Cheyenne on Sunday directly after church. Business, don’t you know? Perhaps you can go on to the Yosts for luncheon?”

  Jesse drove her, of course. There was silence for a while, then he said, “Sorry about the other day. I was a dang fool, wasn’t I?”

  “No.” Alex tried to stop herself from smiling. “I mean, I can paint, I have a good eye, so I should be able to shoot fairly well, shouldn’t I?” She let it go at that and rushed on to tell him her news. “I heard from Jonathon, from the gallery in New York. I mean, his letter arrived.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  Alex sat looking at her hands, happily comforted by the fact Jesse showed some interest. “He repeated his request for fifteen paintings for a solo exhibition, and is coming out in the summer.” She tried to keep the excitement from her voice.

  Jesse turned and looked at her. “Well, you’ve really done it, haven’t you? I mean, you’re going to be a success, Alex.” He hesitated before looking ahead again. “You gonna move there, to New York I mean?”

  “Oh, heavens, no! Why would I do that?” She hoped he understood what she was saying.

  They pulled up in front of the Homestead, and she handed him her bankbook. “What’s this for?” he asked.

  Alex’s eyes lit up. “I need you to sign for the money I owe you so I can go into town and take it out. I can repay you now.”

  “Been wired already?”

  “Yes. Five hundred dollars. Is that a lot? Can I live for a while on that?”

  “Five hundred dollars!” he exclaimed in disbelief. “Are you sure? My lord, that’s a fortune! It’s ’bout what I make in ten months.”

  “Is it?” Alex felt embarrassed. “Well, I won’t have more than two exhibitions a year and, of course, those New York people, you know— They show women’s shawls in the Godey’s magazine for five hundred dollars and ladies’ purses at a hundred and fifty so I expect those people don’t mind paying for paintings they like.” She sat quietly while he came round to help her down but she hesitated before taking his hand. “Are you angry?”

  “No, why would I be angry? I’m really happy for you. It’s what you want, isn’t it?”

  ****

  With the children gathered around, Annie read the review out loud: “‘However, the biggest surprise of the exhibition has to be the works by Lady Alexandra Calthorpe. Just seventeen, and previously known on these shores for her own most remarkable beauty—’”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” interrupted Alex, “What utter nonsense!”

  “‘Her immense talent comes as a complete surprise. The five paintings here presented were conceived at her brother’s estate in Italy, and show a depth of ability from one so young that can only astound. Peasants working in the fields, Romanys in their wagons—’”

  “What’s a Romany?” Sue Ann wanted to know.

  “They’re gypsies, darling,” Alex replied.

  “Are they like Indians?” J.J. demanded.

  “Not really. They’re…how can I explain? They’re people who don’t like to live in one place and they travel and live in wagons.”

  “Indians don’t like to live in one place. They traveled across the plains.”

  “Yes, J.J., but these are Europeans. They’re mostly from Romania I think, and they travel around Europe.”

  “Can I continue?” Annie looked at the two of them. “‘Women hanging laundry from the towers of San…San…’ How do you pronounce this?”

  “San Jim-in-yano,” Alex told her.

  “‘San Gimignano, all come alive as if they would hold a conversation with you in the very next instant. Without any professional schooling in her art, Lady Alexandra has harnessed her talent with precociousness well beyond her years. We will wait to see such perspicacity does not burn itself out early but rather gets channeled into an ever-burgeoning mastery. The exhibition continues at…’”

  Jesse looked across the table at her, but it was Garrett who, crossing his arms, said quietly, “Well, maybe not so useless afta all, Lady Lex.”

  Alex tried to guide the conversation away from herself and her painting. The Darcy Brothers came up, but Tom nixed that because of the children being present and so it went on to spring round-up, which was shortly to get underway.

  “Oh, so you’ll all be off for weeks and weeks. It’s going to be quiet here, that’s for sure.”

  “You’ve got fifteen paintings to finish by October,” Jesse pointed out.

  “Well, you all are my subject matter. I shall have to follow you for a bit to get my drawings done. Can I rope too?”

  “You cannot.” Tom’s face was grave and he had a steely glint in his eye.

  “Why?” Alex was taken aback by his serious tone.

  “Because,” Jesse explained on Tom’s behalf, “you’re not good enough, Alex. You all know you’re not good enough and we can’t be watchin’ you all the time. ’Sides which you’re sure as heck to forefoot one of ’em, and then we’ll have trouble.”

  “Where’s your faith in me? Anyway, what’s forefooting or whatever it was?”

  “It’s when you rope only one foot on a calf and he breaks his leg,” explained Garrett.

  “Oh. Oh dear. I see what you mean,” Alex conceded.

  Sue Ann looked from Jesse to Alex and back again.

  “Anyway, Alex, what do you want to be paintin’ us for?” Jesse said. “Think you’d have enough to paint without followin’ us aroun’.”

  Alex looked at him, her mouth open. “Just what is your problem? You are what I paint. You are the most interesting people around. It’s what I do, paint people, paint cowpunchers. Just what is your objection? Bloody hell—”

  “Now, now,” interrupted Tom.

  “Sorry. It’s difficult enough with the damn wind blowing up dust as I work all day—”

  “Alex!” Annie reprimanded.

  “Sorry!” She gathered up dishes from the table.

  “Whoa, we are touchy today,” said Jesse.

  “I am not touchy. Certainly not touchy as some!”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You know what that means, Jesse Makepeace. If there’s touchiness around here, it sure as hell—”

  “Alex,” admonished Tom again.

  Jesse and Alex looked at each other across the room as Sue Ann said, “Jesse, you gonna marry Lady Alex?”

  There was a momentary silence before Alex burst out laughing, then covered her mouth with a hand. “Oh, no, darling,” she said still laughing, “Jesse kno
ws me far too well for that. He’d never dare.”

  Then she thought of what Cal had said and turned to avoid looking at Jesse’s face.

  Chapter Nine

  A gunmetal gray sky lowered over the ranch lands with frequent flashes of lightning in the distance, but it wasn’t the threatening weather that got Alex’s attention. Shouts from the men and the ensuing ruckus drew her to the window. There in the corral was the most magnificent stallion, black with a white blaze and four white pasterns. Joe and Garrison had their lariats about his neck, trying to hold the horse as he reared on his hind legs and strained on the ropes.

  Alex ran out, half-dressed, her shirt hanging loose and her boots hardly pulled on. “Stop it!” she screamed. “Stop it, Joe, this minute!”

  Alex got up to the corral, the men turning to look at her. “I mean it! Stop it. Take the damn ropes off him.”

  Jesse came beside her. “Alex, it’s a bronco, he’s got to be blindfolded and saddled. We haven’t time for fancy training. He’s got to be saddled and rid. You’ve seen us break horses before...”

  “Not this one! Not this one!” she cried.

  “Any horse, Alex. They’re all mustangs.” But before he knew what was happening, she pulled his gun from its holster and pointed it at Joe, then Garrison. “Take the damn ropes off! Garrison! I mean it! Get the bloody rope off him or I’ll shoot, I swear!”

  A silence descended on the men like dust settling after a storm. The horse continued its terrified neighing as he strained on the ropes, his eyes wild with terror. Everyone stared at Alex, and Jesse breathed hard but didn’t move, sizing up whether he could take the gun back without her shooting someone. Garrison and Joe still held the ropes, both men looking back at her.

  “I mean it,” she repeated hoarsely, “get the ropes off!”

  Her hand shook, more with anger than fear, as first Joe, then Garrison, got up close to remove the lariats, then backed out of the corral and over the fence. Alex turned the gun over, emptied the chambers, and pushed the gun and cartridges at Jesse, practically throwing them at him before climbing the fence and going into the corral. There was stillness from the men as she stood there, just eyeing the horse, her hands open out to him, as he pranced and bucked and loped about his confined space. Nobody moved; the men were transfixed by the small figure of Alex just standing still, facing down that stallion, murmuring softly to him.