Loveland

by Andrea Downing

  When she came back in, Jesse was watching the fish and potatoes fry. She sat on the edge of the table. “You eating?” she asked.

  “No, I had breakfast about two hour ago. I’m making sure you eat and then I’ll leave.”

  “I didn’t know babysitting was part of the foreman’s duties.” He got a tin plate and pushed the food onto it.

  Jesse sat at a right angle to her, noticing she had put on her silver cuff. He started to make some remark about dressing with a bracelet before she put on her pants but thought better of it. He knew she was completely oblivious to the fact she was half-dressed, that she was not attempting to flaunt herself. Alex would never stop being a child, he thought, she would always be part child, part-woman. She had been the same at eight.

  “You might compliment the cook,” he said at last.

  “Yep. It’s good.” She smiled, putting another forkful in her mouth. “So when did you learn to cook?”

  He didn’t answer but just sat staring at her, desiring her so much he wondered if he could get out without kissing her.

  “I can’t eat any more potatoes. You’ll have to finish for me.” She pushed the plate toward him.

  Their eyes locked, each waiting for the other to speak. At last Alex sat back and said, “I have to tell you something.”

  Jesse got up and put the plate in the sink. He stood looking out the window for a moment, listening to geese and ducks out on the lake. He thought she was going to say she’d had an affair, coming over on the boat unchaperoned as she had been—that would be it, though he didn’t know how he could bear it.

  “I tried to kill myself.”

  It came so starkly he thought he hadn’t heard right for a moment. He walked slowly back to the table, gripping the edge with both hands as his eyes bored into her. She removed the cuff and showed him her wrist, then she pulled her legs up and rested her chin on her knees. Jesse remained speechless, and the silence was like an icy wind making the two of them shiver.

  “They put me on laudanum,” she continued at last. “I didn’t know what I was doing. I was beside myself after the baby. They thought it would help.” She ran a hand though her hair. “Then I started to drink. I just…drank and drank. Anything in sight, everything I could get my hands on. Rose couldn’t cope with it, that’s why she returned here before me. David hired someone else and that drove me further away. I-I was out of control. They hid everything. I ended up in London in some opium den or other, and David had to come and find me and take me home. That was it. That was the low, the bottom. This nurse, Margaret her name was, she found me the next morning just in time.’

  “I just didn’t know what I was doing, I-I don’t remember very much but I don’t remember wanting to die, I just didn’t want to feel anything, I wanted…to be numb, I guess.” She stopped for a moment. “I suppose I wasn’t going to tell you but then, Cal had figured it out. It’s not very well hidden, you would have seen sooner or later.”

  “That’s why you’re telling me?” Anger etched the question like the scrape of a knife. Alex didn’t answer. Jesse started to throw some things from the kitchen back into the sack he’d come with. “I can’t do this, Alex. I’m leavin’.”

  “Oh!” She was somewhat puzzled by the response.

  “No, I mean I’m leavin’ for good. I can’t watch you destroy yourself like this. You want a perfect world and it’s not a perfect world. Nothing’s ever gonna be good enough for you. You can’t accept nothing’s ever gonna be ideal and you’re gonna destroy yourself trying to make it so. You just don’t understand that not everything turns out the way you want it to, not everything in life is perfect.”

  “No, I don’t understand!” she retorted. “I don’t understand why people have to kill golden eagles for sport. I don’t understand why a snowstorm has to come and kill half a herd. I don’t understand why lightning strikes an innocent man just sitting out there on his horse and kills him. I don’t understand why three letters go missing, or when someone says they’ll never leave you, they up and go. And I sure as hell don’t understand why a baby, born of the love of two people, has to die before it’s even drawn a single breath. Do you understand that, Jesse? Because if you do, please tell me, please give me the explanation, I would certainly like to know that answer!”

  “It’s life, Alex. And I can’t go on watching you all the time, wondering if you’re gonna do that again.”

  “I’m not going to do that again. I told you, I was drunk and on laudanum. David took me to Italy and I recovered, if you like. I haven’t had alcohol at all since Italy.” She curled into a ball looking small, and vulnerable.

  Jesse leaned against the door for a moment. “You remember that time when you were eight and had just arrived, and you shot out your arms and I picked you up?”

  She looked at him, her brow creased. “I remember. Madame Helene was so astonished. I had seen some child at the station in New York do that and I thought it was a good idea.” There was a weak smile for the sentiment.

  “That was so out of character,” he replied quietly. “You never seemed to need anyone after that. You want to do everything yourself and you want everything to be perfect. That’s you, that’s who you are, Alex.”

  She ran a hand across her face. “You’re confusing my desire to be independent with not needing anyone. I needed you. I thought you needed me. And I need you now.” Her admission surprised herself and she looked away.

  “For the ranch!” he shouted. “The thing with you, Alex, is you don’t want to need anyone, you may need me, but you don’t want to admit it, you can’t deal with it—”

  “I just did! I just said—”

  “Yeah, but you don’t believe it, do you? You think—”

  “Don’t tell me what I think, Jesse. That all happened because I needed you and you weren’t there.” She slammed her hand on the table. “No, I don’t want to need you, I don’t want to need anyone. You’re right. I want a perfect world in which I can deal with everything on my own. That’s my perfect world. Does it exist?” she asked, getting up at last and going to find her clothes. She heard the doorknob turn. “My father killed my mother, you know.” There was utter silence for a second before she continued, “Well, he was responsible for her death, if he didn’t actually murder her.” She pulled a shirt on as he closed the door again and turned back to her. “All those years...” She sat on the bed and pulled on her denims. “They told me she’d died in childbirth. All my life he blamed me. But she had been ill and Frederic was afraid of her losing the baby, which he no doubt hoped was another son—’one must have an heir and a spare,’ as the saying goes—so he had the doctor bring about the birth, my birth. He didn’t even care apparently whether the baby was his or Oliver’s so long as it was a son. What a disappointment I must have been. A girl. And then he knew he had killed her, the infection from that killed her. Frederic never told me that part, did he? All that time he was blaming me and he had done that. And for spite, I should think. Because she loved Oliver more and he knew it.” She stood and started buckling on her gun belt. “He couldn’t live with that. It’s amazing he didn’t kill me but maybe that was what he was trying to do all my life by making me miserable.” She bent to search for her socks, grabbed one from under the bed and stood up to face Jesse. “I don’t know why I tried to kill myself. It was a stupid thing to do. But I do know I’m not my mother. I’m not trapped—I’m free.”

  “H-how did you find out all that?”

  “Oliver’s letter told me to go back to discover more about myself. But it all came out after Frederic’s death because there were papers regarding her will. She had made a will prior to her death, just days before, just like Oliver did, leaving me and David equal parts in an inheritance. She must’ve known what might happen, since he was forcing her to do this. And she had written her baby—me—a letter. It wasn’t much—just an apology basically, for not being there to take care of me.” Alex stood there staring across at Jesse. “Yes, well. I come from a
complicated family so you’re really best rid of me.”

  He looked at her, still speechless, still trying to deal with the complexity of her life.

  “This is yours, Jess, isn’t it, this house? You bought Boyd, didn’t you?”

  “You told me once to build my dream house. I had money saved. I was getting a higher salary. Higgins worked out a payment plan.” He was still numb—the words were just tumbling out.

  “Well. I won’t trespass any more. Sorry.”

  She bent to pick up her bedroll as she heard the door close.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Jesse went to see Tom the next day to tell him he had decided to leave early, but Tom just shook his head.

  “You said once you wanted to provide for her. Well, dang it, provide for her. None of this makes sense, Jess. You’re leaving because she really needs you now?” He waited for an answer but Jesse just stared blankly at the wall.

  Tom got up, his aggravation keen and sitting heavily on him. He looked out the window. Alex was in the distance, coming up from the main house. “You know,” he said swiveling back to Jesse, “we’ve all let that girl down. You, me, Annie. Alex’s like one of them fine thoroughbreds you read about, sensitive and…sort of nervy-like, but they give you so much back in return. Trouble is, they have to trust you, and that there’s where we’ve failed.” He glanced at Jesse briefly. “First I let dang Calthorpe send her back when she was little and I should of stood up to him.”

  “You couldn’t have done anything, Tom. No one could. You know that.”

  “And then Annie and I let her spend all her money—all that money she worked so hard to save, and she went and spent it on us, on buying the Homestead.” He leaned back against the windowsill for a moment, shaking his head as if it puzzled him he could have done such a thing. “I’ve been a fool. A dang selfish fool.”

  Jesse stayed quiet as the older man walked back to his desk and sat down as if he’d returned from a long journey. “She’s kept the ranch goin’, you said. She hasn’t done it just for you and Annie.”

  Tom looked up. “Maybe so, but maybe it’s my fault she doesn’t believe you sent them letters. Why should she believe any of us, Jesse. Why?” He busied himself with papers on his desk, as Jesse pulled the door open to find Alex standing there.

  There was a moment’s hesitation as they stood facing each other.

  “I just received a letter from David,” she said at last, “with this in it.” She pulled out a crumpled envelope addressed to her. Jesse took it, turning it over in his hand, then gave it back. “It arrived after I left,” she said. “So that’s one.”

  Tom watched the scene from his desk and shook his head.

  “You haven’t read it,” Jesse mumbled. He hesitated, as if he wanted to say something more, than stopped. He noticed a small tremor. The letter fluttered in Alex’s hand like a moth finding the light. Alex looked down at the sealed letter. “No. I suppose I’m a coward. Does it matter now?” She searched his face for an answer.

  “Looks like we’ve got a caller.” Tom nodded toward the window. Jesse and Alex moved to see Nigel Henderson getting off his horse.

  Alex strode out, the two men behind her.

  Henderson was a stocky figure with a large square head, which sat on his body as if it had been dropped there. He had a neat little moustache, too small for his face, and round deep-set eyes, invariably squinting. Alex hadn’t liked him when she first met him when she was eight. Her feelings for the man had not changed through all the social occasions Oliver had made her attend.

  “Ah, Mr. Henderson, what can I do for you?” Alex stood with her thumbs in her belt, her face masked with a smile.

  “Yost. Makepeace.” He nodded to the men. “Lady Alex, I heard you ran into a few of my guests the other day?”

  “Oh, were they yours? That’s too bad. Me, I’ve stopped having guests here at the ranch. Don’t really like people on my land.”

  “So I hear. Is that why your treatment of my friends wasn’t so special?”

  “It wasn’t meant to be special. We have fences now. They were trespassing.”

  “By accident.”

  “Accident? There’s an old English proverb, Mr. Henderson, ‘good fences make good neighbors.’ You should know that.”

  “Yes, well, it was your choice to put up those fences, Lady Alex. I can understand the drift fences, but the others? Out of respect for Oliver—”

  “Ah, my uncle sometime father. I’m never really sure.”

  “You certainly are one tough lady now.”

  “Yes. I’ve learned my lessons well.”

  “You haven’t had it easy, I’ll give you that.”

  “If you’ve come here to commiserate, you’re a bit late, Mr. Henderson. I never felt sorry for myself and I sure as hell don’t intend to start now. In fact, things were really looking up until you came along.”

  Henderson was silent for a moment. Alex’s hate for the man welled up inside her as she remembered the last dinner party with him, to which Oliver had brought her, against her will. The man had sat staring down her dress and then accused her of being arrogant and judgmental. And he had always stunk of whiskey.

  “If you’ve come for an apology I’m afraid that’s not forthcoming either,” she continued. “In fact, I’m thinking of sending over a bill for that golden eagle. I hear hunt outfitters make quite a bit of money from these easterners and Europeans.”

  “Why, you...”

  Jesse shifted behind her.

  “I really think you ought to go now, Henderson. My foreman here, he gets a bit itchy sometimes, if you know what I mean. Has something of a short temper, I’m afraid.”

  “Yost, can’t you talk some sense into her?”

  Tom guffawed. “She’s got a sight more sense than the most of us, Mr. Henderson.”

  “These men practically brought me up,” Alex went on. “Everything I know about this land I owe to them.”

  Henderson shook his head. “I know you don’t have two dimes to rub together now, Lady Alex, but an apology for ruining those guns might’ve been nice.”

  “Well,” replied Alex, considering this, “I guess I’m as stingy with my apologies now as I am with my cash.”

  The three of them stood there for a moment as Henderson rode off. Tom gave Alex’s shoulder a squeeze and went back to his office.

  Alex faced Jesse. “I thought you were going.”

  “It’s the children’s birthday party next Saturday. I’ll go after.”

  Alex stood there for a moment, thinking. She heard the horses coming in, Garrison and Coates running a small herd into one of the corrals. Jesse went to the corral fence to watch, but Alex stood as if glued to the spot. She began to tear open the letter but changed her mind and stuffed it back into her pocket. She wasn’t going to start crying out here in front of Jesse, as no doubt she would. She started back to the house when Coates came up to her and stopped her.

  Jesse watched the two of them from the corner of his eye. He saw Alex shrug and nod as if she were sorry about something, then head toward the house. Coates came over and put a foot up on a rail, pushed his hat forward a bit scratching the back of his neck, and then leaned against the fence next to Jesse.

  “She is one dang woman, that one,” he said at last.

  Jesse looked at him. “What d’ya mean, Coates?”

  “Well.” The other man turned to him. “I got up my courage, like, and thought I’d ask her to the church social next Sa’day. Thought all she could do was say no or fire me for oversteppin’ the line.”

  “So she accepted and now you’re stuck?” offered Jess.

  “No. Wish she had.” His forehead creased. “Heck, wouldn’ta asked her if I hadn’ta meant business. No, she turns to me and says she’s been in love with the same man since she were eight year old, ain’t about to stop loving him now and since the sonovabitch don’t love her—”

  “Did she say sonovabitch?”

  Coates’ brow crease
d again. “No, why? She said ‘the gentleman concerned.’”

  “Just curious,” said Jesse moving off with a smile.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Alex was late. No one had offered to drive her so she knew the men were coming in off herd to the party. A chilling rain fell and she’d pulled the hood over the buggy, but had still got wet and entered looking somewhat bedraggled. They were all inside and Tom was just showing Millie the painting of the two children that hung above the fireplace.

  “Well, there’s our artist now.” He greeted Alex.

  She shook herself a bit and stood there uncertainly, a waif at the door. The others all stared at her.

  “There’s our boss, ya mean, Tom.” Cal was obviously trying not to laugh. “Bit of a sorry sight, Ladilex.”

  “I don’t care what I look like, Cal, I’m more concerned I’ve just ruined the gifts for the children.”

  “Oh, what are they?” Sue Ann rushed over from her spot next to Jesse on a sofa.

  “Sue Ann! Give Alex a minute and don’t be so rude!” Annie came with a towel for Alex to dry herself off, and led her toward the kitchen. Alex stopped and took something out of a folder she carried. She opened a handmade book, glanced at it to see if it was dry and intact, then handed it to Sue Ann.

  “Happy Birthday, darling.” She bent to kiss the girl. “There’s another for J.J. I hope they’re all right.” J.J. came and got his present, pecked Alex quickly on the cheek and went back to a corner. “Growing up,” she said to Annie with a smile.

  The presents were each a series of little water colors of the ranch: the men at work, the children on horseback, Annie in the kitchen.

  Sue Ann showed hers to Cal.

  “Did you see these old photographs, Ladilex? The ones that were taken back in the seventies by that Huffman fella? You should come and look.”

  They were spread out on the table in front of Jesse. He looked up at her as she approached and handed her one. In it, she was sitting on Jesse’s lap on a bench in front of the chuck houses, his arms about her and his chin resting on the top of her head, huge matching grins on their faces, with Cal looking on and laughing. She studied it for a time as Jesse watched her, knowing they felt the same things there, in that moment, the same connection, knowing they had never stopped loving one another.