Steven read the plaque and then looked at his sister. “Pony seems to think this wouldn’t have happened without me, but this is a shared vision both she and Caleb brought to life. Without the two of them, there wouldn’t be a School of Native American Studies at the Bow and Arrow. All I did was file the legal papers. They did the real work, and they deserve all the credit.”
Caleb stood beside Steven and raised his bottle of beer. “All I have to say is, I don’t know the first damn thing about how to legally create a school. This man here stepped right in and guided us through the entire complicated process, and let me tell you, it was a complicated process. I don’t know when I’ve ever had to jump through so many hoops. He even made a special trip out here when the official papers arrived at his office because he knew a phone call wouldn’t have sufficed. Steven Young Bear is without a doubt the hardest man to read that I’ve ever known, but on that day he was as revved up as we were. I’d like to propose a heartfelt toast to a great man and a dedicated attorney who was instrumental in making Pony’s dream come true.”
“Hear, hear,” Badger said, lifting his own bottle. “Now for the love of bald-headed consumption, let the partying begin.”
THE SOUND SYSTEM was pretty good, for a jury-rigged setup put together by Bernie and Pony, both of whom admitted to knowing nothing about woofers and tweeters and generators and nonstop auto CD programming. The area for dancing was ringed by the picnic tables and freshly mown, and as soon as the generator was fired up and country music filled the valley, folks just naturally jumped up to dance.
“I promised I’d teach you the two-step, and I’m a man of my word,” Steven said at Molly’s elbow as they stood on the sidelines and watched the fun.
Molly felt a momentary qualm. “There’s something you should know before you even try,” she said, her fingers twisting the stem of the wineglass in her hand. “I have two left feet.”
“Says who?”
“My mother insisted that we all learn the social graces at a young age, so we had to take lessons in ballroom dancing, as if we’d be doing a lot of that throughout our lives. It was horrible, and I had to dance with one of my brothers, which made things even worse. I think the whole experience soured me on dancing for life.”
“Ballroom dancing is about as far from the Texas two-step as you can get,” Steven said, gesturing. “Look at them. They’re all having fun, even Badger, and he has to be as old as Luther.”
“Does Badger live here, on the ranch?”
“Most of the time. He and Charlie sort of came with the place when Caleb bought it. They were hired on by Jessie Weaver’s father back in the late fifties, which was about the time Ramalda came, too.”
“Talk about long-term employees,” Molly said, dutifully impressed.
“They’re more like family. There were plenty of hard times when no paychecks changed hands, but they’re a loyal bunch.” Steven took the wineglass from her hand and set it on the picnic table. “The sun’s setting, Red Hair,” he said. “It’s time to dance.”
Before she could voice another protest, his hand closed on hers and the next thing she knew she was in his arms and she’d forgotten all about not being able to dance, not even liking to dance, and thinking she had two left feet. She was a little giddy from two glasses of wine and she melted into the solid strength of him, letting go of any attempt to make sense of the steps and the moves. She simply closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensation of being close to a man she was falling more deeply in love with by the moment.
Another song followed the first, and another after that, and only when they both felt the fatigue of the long days and the sleepless nights did they take a break. Steven brought her another glass of wine and they walked away from the noise of the party, down past the ranch house and the pole barn to where the creek sparkled like molten gold in the sun’s last rays. They sat down side by side, shoulders touching, and Molly leaned into him gratefully. She felt as if a hollow place inside of her were slowly filling with a depth of peace like she’d never known, and she needed to sit in quiet abeyance and experience every precious moment until she was full and the flow, like the swinging shift of a flood tide, eased within her. “Thank you, Steven.”
“For what?”
“For asking me here. I don’t know when I’ve ever had such a good time with such wonderful people in such a beautiful setting. If I stay here much longer I might begin to understand why you want to protect all this,” she said, indicating the purple mountains that drew a rugged line against the western horizon.
“Then maybe I should tie you up and keep you here.”
“You wouldn’t need to tie me up,” Molly murmured. “Just build me a little cottage on the bank of this river, and let me adopt Bonnie and Bandit.”
“Bonnie and Bandit?”
“The two as yet unclaimed puppies. And of course, I’d want a horse or two.”
“Of course,” he said. “How about a buffalo?”
“Hmmm. I’ll have to think about that one. Absa’s cute, but my hunch is she’s going to get a whole lot bigger.” Molly took a sip of wine. “I really would like to ride up and see the herd.”
“The boys looked pretty disappointed when you kept on dancing. I think they probably had the horses saddled and ready to go before we were done eating,” Steven said.
“Really?” Molly lifted her head off his shoulder to look at him.
“I’m sure they’ll take a rain check. It’ll be dark soon, and we have to get on the road.”
She sighed. “I don’t want this day to end.”
“There’ll be other days as good.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“There’s going to be a wedding here in a few weeks and it just so happens that I’m giving the bride away. I need a date. Want to come?”
“Oh, Steven.” Molly leaned toward him and tenderly kissed his bruised cheek. “If I ever find paradise, it will be a place just like this. Yes, I’ll come. I’d love to come to your sister’s wedding.”
“BUT YOU CAN’T LEAVE,” Pony protested when they walked back up to the ranch house to say their goodbyes. “This party is for you.”
“We have a long drive ahead of us,” Steven said.
“Exactly why you should spend the night,” Caleb pitched in, coming to stand beside Pony and drape an arm over her shoulders. “Besides, the boys are anxious to show Molly the buffalo herd. We could all ride up to Piney Creek after breakfast tomorrow. You’ll be on the road after lunch and get home well before dark. That’s a much better plan, don’t you agree?”
“I think it sounds wonderful,” Molly said, “but I don’t have anything with me for spending the night, and no clothes fit for a horseback ride tomorrow.”
“That’s not a problem,” Pony said. “I can get you everything you need. Please say you will stay.”
Molly turned her pleading gaze on Steven. “Could we, Steven?” she said.
He reached for her hand. “All right,” he relented. “But I’m not riding tomorrow.”
“I promise I won’t ask you to, just as long as you promise to dance one more dance with me tonight,” Molly said.
And so they danced until the stars shone down out of that wide, dark sky and most of the guests had departed and Ramalda had made it perfectly clear, in a jumbled mix of broken English and rapid-fire Spanish, that it was late, too late for the boys, too late for Mr. Steven who was injured and needed his rest, and too late for her, for she had worked hard all day, cooking this most delicious feast. Steven became aware of this diatribe only when Pony turned down the volume on the sound system and they heard Badger saying, “Dang it, old woman, have you forgot what it’s like to be young? Lookit that full moon rising. Now, ain’t that worth losing a little sleep over? Love keeps its own time. Always has. Leave ’em be.”
They turned to look at the moon and Steven felt Molly’s arms tighten around him. “It’s so beautiful,” she murmured, resting her cheek against his chest. He felt her shiver
a little and pulled her closer.
“It’s getting cold,” he said, “and Ramalda’s right. It’s late and you’ve had a long day.”
“Is that your way of telling me you’re tired?” she said with a smile in her voice.
“It’s my way of keeping the peace with Ramalda,” he said. “It must be midnight or later, and she gets up at 4:00 a.m.”
“But why?” Molly murmured in protest.
“Because that’s what time the day begins when you live on the Bow and Arrow.”
“Does that mean we’re getting up at 4:00 a.m.?”
“Don’t you want to see the buffalo?”
“Will they be awake that early?” she said with a soft laugh. “Oh, Steven, thank you for letting us stay. Thank you, thank you.”
She pulled away from him then, to help Pony with the final cleanup of Ramalda’s kitchen, to say goodbye to Bernie and Guthrie and Jessie, to accept the somber bow and the kiss on the cheek from both Badger and Charlie as they departed to overnight on the ranch in parts unknown, and to follow Pony down the back hallway to the guest room where she’d be sleeping. Steven trailed along behind, curious. It was a small room with rose-printed wallpaper, a small bed, bureau and desk, with a braided rug on the floor. “It’s lovely,” Molly said. “Thank you.”
“You’ll be sharing the bathroom with the boys,” Pony said. “Let me know if they’re a problem. You will find a new toothbrush in the cabinet above the sink.”
“I’ll be fine. Thank you so much. The party was great. Tonight’s been just perfect.”
Pony smiled. “Steven will be sleeping in the living room on the couch. If he gives you any trouble, just call out and Ramalda will see to him.”
Molly’s soft laugh brought the heat to Steven’s face. He followed his sister back out into the kitchen and waited while she added a few sticks of wood to the stove and shut the dampers down. She met his gaze then and the faintest of smiles warmed her expression before she dropped her eyes and turned toward the door. She opened it and started out onto the porch, then paused and glanced back. “I left blankets and pillows on the couch in the living room.” She paused again and the silence stretched out while he patiently waited. “I like her,” she concluded. “I am glad you both stayed.”
He nodded. “I’m glad you asked us to.”
CHAPTER TEN
MOLLY AWOKE in the little bedroom with the cabbage-rose wallpaper and the 1930s vintage furnishings. It was early, dark early, and she opened her eyes slowly, roused by the fragrant aroma of coffee. She stretched and yawned and felt that same warm, peaceful feeling fill her that had filled her the night before, and thought that she could live like this forever as long as Steven was near.
Steven…
Her smile widened as she remembered how she’d crept into the living room after Pony left, while the ranch house slept and the moon rose ever higher to cast its celestial light through the old, rippled panes of glass. She’d been able to see plainly enough to walk in the unfamiliar darkness to the place where he slept. Or, as it had turned out, didn’t sleep. When she’d entered the living room, her eyes searching for his form on the sofa, she was startled to see that it was empty, that the room was empty, and that the door leading out onto the porch was ajar. She’d found him sitting on a bench in the chill of the earliest of morning hours, gazing out across the moonlit distance.
“Steven?” she had whispered, and he had turned his head and held out his hand to her. She had joined him, clad only in the oversize T-shirt that Pony had given her as a nightgown. It floated to her knees in a baggy, shapeless cotton tent and once upon a time she would have died before being seen like that by a man she cared about, but that had been another time. With Steven she’d never given it a thought, just let him pull her down next to him and wrap her in his warmth.
The sound of a horse whinnying and a boy’s voice shouting roused her from her reverie. Molly got up and was startled to see that neatly folded on the chair by the door was an entire outfit suitable for a long ride up into the September mountains of Montana, obviously delivered while she slept. She dressed hastily after the prerequisite scrub up in the bathroom, which, due to the apparent lateness of the hour, she had all to herself. When she entered the warm kitchen, Ramalda was washing dishes at the sink while firewood snapped in the cookstove and a pot of coffee steamed enticingly.
“Good morning, Ramalda,” she said. “I’m sorry I’m late….”
“Breakfast long over,” Ramalda said, swinging her formidable bulk about and giving Molly her darkest scowl.
“Yes, I’m sorry I overslept, but I ate too much yesterday. Your food was so delicious I couldn’t get enough, and eating so much of it made me very sleepy, and so this morning I overslept.”
Ramalda’s face softened. “Yes,” she said. “So. He sleeps still.” She nodded toward the living room. “He ate too much, too, si? My food is very good.”
“Your food is wonderful. I’ll bring him coffee,” Molly offered, and Ramalda poured two cups from the pot that was pushed to the back of the woodstove. Molly carried both into the living room and paused when she saw that Steven was, indeed, sound asleep, lying on the couch on his back, fingers laced across his stomach. No blanket, fully clothed. The murky light made the cuts and bruises on his face look even worse. She sat on the very edge of the couch and he opened his eyes and moaned.
“It’s too early for it to be morning,” he said.
“We’re on cowboy time now, Young Bear, remember?”
“I’m an Indian. I don’t subscribe to that foolishness.”
“You still have time to change your mind about the horseback ride.” She smiled.
“Never,” he said. “And don’t say I didn’t warn you. It’s a hard ride up that mountain. Monday morning you’ll be on your hands and knees.”
“Never,” Molly echoed, chin lifting. “I brought you a cup of coffee.” She set the steaming mug on the table beside the couch. “I’ll see you around lunchtime. Try to sit out in the sunshine today. It will help heal your bruises.”
“Really?”
“Really. It’s a good thing to know if you should ever happen to get beat up.” She leaned over, kissed Steven very gently, and rose to her feet. “They’re waiting for me. I’ll see you later.”
She carried her coffee with her to the pole barn, sipping it along the way and admiring the clear yellow band of light that defined the mountain peaks to the east. It was cold, and she was glad for the warm clothing, especially the sheepskin jacket and the fleece-lined leather gloves. She could hear the murmur of voices as she drew near the barn. The boys were in a huddle around one of the horses in the corral and several other horses were all saddled and ready to go.
“No, stupid,” she heard one of them say. “Red Hair’s legs are long. Lengthen the stirrup straps a little.”
The huddle immediately dispersed when they heard her approaching footsteps and the boys lined out, facing her, five pairs of somber eyes no doubt measuring her worth as a cowgirl. “Good morning,” she greeted, leaning against the fence. “Sorry I’m late.”
“Oh, you ain’t late.” The reply came from inside the barn as Badger emerged, leading a horse. “We’re just trying to scare up enough saddles so’s none of us has to ride bareback. Roon could ride thataway, but I sure as hell cain’t.”
“Nor I,” Molly said. “I need that thing on the front of the saddle to hang on to.”
“It’s called a saddle horn,” one of the boys volunteered. “And this is your horse. His name is Amos.”
Molly crawled between the fence rails and approached the little brown gelding that the boys had been surrounding. “Is Amos gentle?”
“He used to be my horse,” Jimmy said, “until I rode better. I ride that dun over there now. His name’s Comanche and he’s a real cow horse. I hope to ride him in the rodeo in Livingston next Fourth of July. We’re going to compete in the team penning.”
“Really?” Molly let Amos take a deep sniff of her h
and before stroking his velvety nose. “Hello, Amos. I’ve never ridden a horse before, so please be extra patient with me.”
“All right, boys, crawl aboard them hay burners. Daylight’s wastin’ and we got us a herd of buffalo to hunt up,” Badger said. He walked back inside the barn and reemerged with a five-gallon bucket, which he upended next to Amos’s shoulder. “Step up on that and put your left foot in this stirrup,” he said to Molly. “Throw your other leg over the saddle. There, that’s good. Amos here’s a good steady horse, fine for a first ride. Your stirrup leathers look a hair short. Slip your feet out of ’em and I’ll fix ’em proper.”
“I thought Pony and Caleb were planning to come along,” Molly said while Badger fussed over her stirrups.
“Oh, they left half an hour ago, with Guthrie and Jess,” he said. “They were planning to stop for coffee up by the holding pens, so more’n likely we’ll catch ’em up there.” He swung open the corral gate and the boys rode out first. As Molly passed him, the old cowboy spat a mouthful of tobacco juice, wiped his chin on the sleeve of his coat, and said, “Sure hope they brung along some of Ramalda’s bear sign.”
AFTER A MILE OR SO of steady climbing, during which Amos behaved himself like the truly gentle horse he was reputed to be, Molly began to relax and take note of her surroundings. The higher they climbed, the more spectacular the view. She drew great lungfuls of the cold, clean air and looked this way and that, and thought how romantic it was to be riding a horse into such a beautiful mountain morning. “The only thing missing is the man,” she murmured into Amos’s swiveling ears. If Steven had come, the day would have been perfect.
They rode until the trail flattened out in a big meadow that seemed to reach out to the very base of the mountains themselves. On the near side of the meadow was a series of big sturdy corrals and chutes built of pipe. “For the buffalo,” Roon told her. “We can hold the herd here when we need to give them vaccinations or test the cows to see if they’re pregnant. Pony designed the corrals. She knows a lot about buffalo, more than any of us. She learned from Pete Two Shirts. Pete manages the Crow’s tribal herd.”
Montana Standoff Page 16
