by Gwen Moffat
Miss Pink did so. The arms were those of Scottish clans. ‘The Gunns are there,’ Sophie said, but without feeling.
‘My husband’s clan,’ Edna put in, smiling.
‘Fascinating.’ Miss Pink turned back to the scrubbed table, trying to withhold judgement. Crofters were part of the clan too.
Charlie came in from the horses and sat down without removing his hat. ‘So did Val get away all right?’ he asked carelessly.
‘Around eleven,’ Sophie told him. ‘A bit late but they’ll make the first stop-over if there isn’t too much timber to clear.’
‘Right. I sent Erik down to help out.’
‘You sent him? You know Val would never consent to have him along. He had his rifle — and the guy’s a punk.’
Edna shot a quick glance at her husband. ‘A punk?’ he repeated, his lip curling.
‘He’s got no manners,’ Sophie protested. ‘Val’s choosy about the company she keeps and I’m right behind her there. It’s my business, after all. Erik galloped through the yard; he could have killed someone.’
‘Maybe a fly bit his horse.’
Sophie’s jaw dropped. She turned to her friend but Miss Pink had seen Edna’s eyes widen. In fear? ‘Horseflies are a nuisance,’ she said vaguely, biting into a biscuit. ‘These cookies are delicious’ — gushing to Edna, anything for a diversion. Edna nodded distractedly, her attention on her husband.
‘What’s Byer’s story?’ Sophie asked coldly.
‘I haven’t spoken to him.’ Charlie was non-committal. ‘I saw him up to the West Forty mending fence but I didn’t go up, ask him why he wasn’t on the ride. Val won’t have him along, that’s her funeral.’
‘Clyde’s with her,’ Edna said. ‘Between them they —’
‘Clyde’s never the man that Val is.’ He leered and Miss Pink saw the other side of the charm.
When the others went out to look at the horses Edna suggested her guest might like to see over the house. Miss Pink was delighted and, asking to visit the bathroom first, wondered, when she opened the door, if she wasn’t being presented with the major glory in advance. Mirrors abounded, the frames wreathed with curlicues; the walls were tiled with images from Egyptian tombs and all the taps were gilded swans.
Despite the vulgarity there were treasures in the house, and Miss Pink was sincere in her admiration even as she suppressed a smile at a Meissen tureen rubbing shoulders with the bronze replica of a cowboy boot, at painted decoy ducks on a Chippendale table. ‘Who dusts all these?’ she asked in wonder.
‘The maids come from Ballard.’ Edna ran her finger along a duck’s back. ‘They’re not very efficient. I’d like to have immigrants, Vietnamese maybe, but Charlie won’t have live-in help. He gave the women the day off today; that’s how you found me scrubbing the floor.’ She shrugged. ‘I often do that anyway; the maids leave smears.’
Miss Pink shook her head, appalled. All this money… ‘Who collected these objects?’ she asked, pausing at a Delft tankard.
‘Charlie’s people. They had agents in Europe and they shipped stuff back from all over. Things were cheap after the wars, apparently, and the Gunns have an eye for a bargain.’
You can say that again, Miss Pink thought crudely, eyeing shelves of books in leather bindings, wondering if any had been read by a Gunn.
‘We don’t use most of the rooms,’ Edna went on. ‘Charlie spends all his time in the den.’ She led the way to an astounding room lined with wood except for a fireplace of stone blocks pointed with yellow cement. There were animal heads on the walls and stuffed beasts in the corners: two wild goats, a bighorn sheep, a mountain lion. A television set stood in front of the lion and, a few yards away, was what had to be Charlie’s chair, constructed of logs. Silver effigies of horses crowded the mantel-shelf and the pictures were Remingtons: cowboys, Indians, stampeding herds.
‘Do you ride?’ Miss Pink asked weakly.
‘Not at my age, dear.’ Edna regarded her guest without embarrassment, most unlike the flustered little body whom they’d surprised washing the kitchen floor, and yet the appearance hadn’t changed — she was still wearing the grubby T-shirt. ‘You’ve kept your youthful spirit,’ she pointed out. ‘I — put on weight.’ It wasn’t what she’d intended to say.
‘So what do you do in this splendid mansion?’ Miss Pink tried to make a joke of it.
‘I supervise the help.’ There was a long pause. ‘And there’s my son, and Val. When you have family there’s always something. Do you have family?’
Miss Pink said no, there was no one left, only cousins, and obliged with information concerning her antecedents as they strolled towards the kitchen. Her eye fell on a pair of porcelain perfume bottles in an alcove, decorated with flowers and peacocks. ‘These are exquisite.’
‘Ah, yes, they’re Clyde’s favourites.’
‘Clyde!’
‘My son. Didn’t you meet him yet?’
‘Yes. I’m just surprised a man should go for something so delicate. I’d have thought the trophies in the den were more —’ Miss Pink trailed off but Edna seemed not to have noticed anything sexist in the words. ‘Clyde has an eye for beauty,’ she said serenely.
Back in the kitchen Miss Pink kept the conversation on family matters, deploring the fact that as an only child and a spinster she had no nephews or nieces. She envied Sophie in this respect — and then of course, there were grandchildren; did Edna see much of her granddaughter?
Edna plucked at her lips. ‘I guess you’ll be wanting to see the horses now,’ she murmured. Miss Pink thought she hadn’t caught the question, but then, ‘Jen’s away. A lovely girl. Looks more like her Uncle Clyde.’ She started to gabble. ‘Of course, Val would be a looker if only she wasn’t so thin. I keep telling Sophie: you should make her eat when she comes to visit with you, I tell her, cook those rich dishes of yours; that girl needs cream and butter and stuff… You know my sister’s a gourmet cook? She can do as well as — better than — Pat Kramer’s chef.’ She looked thoughtful. ‘But I guess she eats in the restaurant for the company. There’s no pleasure to eating alone. You’ll have to excuse me now, I have to start the supper…’
Dismissed, Miss Pink went to look for Sophie. She shouldn’t have mentioned the granddaughter but wasn’t it natural — when you knew that one existed and were not expected to be privy to this family skeleton — to ask after the child? Woman, she corrected, Jen was seventeen when she went missing; she’d be twenty-seven now. But if the explanation for her absence was that she’d had an affair with her stepfather, she should not have asked after her. So why had she?
She stood beside her mare, teasing away at a burr in the mane, frowning, realising that she didn’t believe that story about the stepfather. It wasn’t enough. Not enough to keep the girl away for ten years, with never a word —
‘Hi!’ Sophie came striding over from the corrals. ‘We have two horses to take back with us. Think you can manage? They’re very quiet. Ask me’ — as Charlie came up — ‘those two were quiet when they were foals.’
‘What you gave me for ‘em I coulda gotten more if they’d gone for canning,’ he said without heat.
‘Because they were all I could afford — and then not till you met me on the price. I’m shocked at you asking such a sum from family for a pair of old dude horses.’
Miss Pink thought that there were barbs under the banter. Charlie said, ‘You’re giving our guest the impression we’re a coupla Mexicans driving a hard bargain. I’ll tell you the truth, ma’am: she’s got two steady animals there and cheap. A quiet horse is what you need on a pack-trip in this kinda country. Did you go through the Black Canyon yet?’
They moved indoors and he served them drinks in a room furnished as a very superior bar, its walls hung with priceless Indian robes and head-dresses of bald eagle feathers. Bald eagles were protected and it was a crime to own as much as a feather.
Charlie was drinking beer from the bottle. ‘You’ll enjoy the Black Canyon,’ he t
old Miss Pink.
Sophie said, ‘I’d like to go in there as Val is coming out. I need new photos for next season’s brochure.’
Miss Pink was delighted. ‘I’ll take some slides. I give little talks back home,’ she added shyly, ‘and that canyon must make a sensational backdrop. Exposure, you know?’ They looked puzzled. ‘As in a long drop?’ she ventured. ‘In climbing jargon a precipice is exposed.’
‘It’s all of that.’ Charlie was with her now. ‘We use a quick-release mechanism when we’re leading pack animals so if one goes down it don’t take you with it.’ He grinned. ‘And if your mount goes down you got to jump off quick.’ He turned to Sophie. ‘I have to go in there. Erik says a bear’s been at the cabin; it hasn’t gotten inside but it’s ripped a corner off the roof. I’ll go tomorrow, melt some of the fat off that stud.’
‘You’re never taking the stallion on that trail — not Ali!’ Sophie was appalled.
‘You suggesting this old man can’t ride, lady?’ He addressed Miss Pink: ‘The meanest animal will go quiet on dangerous ground. He knows if he puts a foot wrong he’s gonna roll, and that stud, he’s mortal scared of water. I have to whip him through a creek. He’ll be terrified of the river a long ways below. No way is he gonna act up on that trail.’
‘It’s a sixteen-mile round trip to the hunting cabin,’ Sophie said. ‘You telling me he’s going to walk quietly for sixteen miles?’
His eyes slitted. ‘He’ll walk quiet.’
Miss Pink felt a twinge of sympathy for the stallion.
*
They ate in the dining-room, clustered at one end of an immense table. They ate overcooked steak served on Spode bone china and with it they drank a sumptuous claret from glasses with rainbow rims. There was scarcely any conversation. Miss Pink did ask who cooked at other times and Edna, surprised, said she did the cooking. ‘She knows how I like my food,’ Charlie explained.
By the time the ice-cream was finished Miss Pink was deeply relieved when Sophie announced that they must leave now in order to be home by dark. ‘Are they always as quiet at meal-times?’ she asked as they rode back, leading the new horses.
‘On a ranch, food is fuel.’
‘That’s not a typical ranch and I’ve eaten on working ranches where people talked nineteen to the dozen.’
‘Charlie didn’t talk, so Edna wouldn’t. Anything for the sake of peace. If I’d tried to make conversation with you, she’d have felt she should contribute and he’d have slapped her down. He says she prattles. He can be mean. You only saw the charming side.’
‘I had glimpses of the other. And why did he send Erik Byer down to Val’s place? Didn’t he know she wouldn’t have him on the ride? She refused him yesterday too.’
‘It’s Charlie’s way of showing her who’s boss.’
‘But she’s turned fifty. He can’t rule grown members of his family like that.’ Miss Pink hesitated. ‘Or is it because she’s living on his property?’
‘No, it’s my lease —’ Sophie looked flushed but it could have been the wine, or maybe the light. The sun had set and the sky was on fire, flaming in the west, dying to embers in the darkening east. ‘She defied him,’ she went on. ‘Sam was one of Charlie’s hands and they fell in love, Sam and Val. They would have kept it secret but Charlie found out — and you can guess who told him; Sam and Erik Byer shared the bunk-house. So Charlie fired Sam and forbade Val to see him again. Of course, she took no notice, went on meeting him, came back late one night and Charlie was in the kitchen waiting up. Edna heard them shouting. Seems he was about to take his belt to her — and that girl was turned twenty! Imagine. And she told him if he touched her he’d never dare turn his back on her again. Edna heard this from outside the door and she told me the way Val spoke made her blood run cold, although she’d always thought the girl had it in her to be as violent as her daddy. But that last was too much for Edna — and the guns were kept too close to the kitchen. She went in there and told Charlie he was driving his daughter at Sam and if she went to him the whole county would be laughing at him: his daughter running off with one of his hands. And while Edna was ranting at him, Val slipped away and she did leave. She had a horse, Sam had a pick-up, they married and set up house over in the Madison Valley, managing a spread for a guy who had no time for Charlie. No one from around here would have dared employ them.’
‘But she came back. He must have mellowed towards her.’
‘Well, it’s history, isn’t it? And when she divorced Sam, Charlie would have taken it as a point in his favour, and then he had a soft spot for Jen. That little girl had the pick of his horses to ride and I guess it would have been because of her he let Val move into the old homestead. I had a place down Irving way when I was teaching and after she divorced Sam, Val and Jen came to stay until I worked out the deal with Charlie. I’d lease the old ranch from him, buy some of his stock and start a business with Val to run it. She had a roof over her head and a job, and all the horses she could do with. And then, as the business grew, she took on Paul Skinner. I figure he talked her into marriage… However, it wasn’t long before she threw him out.’ There was a pause.
‘Jen was seventeen,’ Miss Pink murmured.
Sophie nodded but she ignored the cue. ‘And like I said, the child could twist Charlie round her pinkie. She’s his blood, after all. Of course, Val is too, but then Val defied him. Threatened him even. That was nasty, for all that Jen seemed to heal the breach. Not totally; he said to me once, after I’d remarked what a good job Val was making of the business, that it was surprising she could do anything right, she couldn’t keep a man nor a daughter. I could have killed him. Jen’s going broke her heart. And he’s got Val where he wants her now; she’s on his property and a sitting duck for all his little teases like the business with Byer this morning. I just hope he doesn’t try something with Jen now she’s back. He could ruin everything. Val’s suffered enough.’
They rode in silence until Miss Pink thought to ask what explanation Charlie gave for his granddaughter’s absence.
‘I have no idea. Edna may know but if she does, she’s not talking, not even to me. She says Jen will come back in her own time: a typical Edna remark. She’s soft. Always was. She’s my sister but she’s got no backbone.’
3
Edna called at ten o’clock the following morning. They were about to leave the apartment for the old ranch when the telephone rang. Sophie’s end of the conversation was brief. ‘Why? We have to check the horses; can’t we… Now?... When did he leave?... Right, I’ll be there’ — a surprised glance at Miss Pink — ‘I said, all right! I’m on my way.’
She dropped the receiver on its rest. ‘That was my crazy sister,’ she grated. ‘She has to see me and — well’ — she was rattled — ‘she’s on her own. Charlie’s left for the hunting cabin. That’s it. No indication what it’s about, but she’s flipped. I’m sorry. I have to leave you.’
‘Of course you do.’ Miss Pink was genial. ‘I can amuse myself; I’ll visit the library… I only hope it’s nothing serious.’
Sophie grimaced. ‘With Edna, it has to be Charlie. Still, he can’t get into much mischief, given his age. It won’t be women or money.’
‘There’s one way to find out.’
‘What? Oh, yes. Right, I’m off. I’ll have a word with Russell, ask him to let you have the loan of a car.’
When she’d gone Miss Pink lounged at the open window and allowed her mind free rein. If Edna stipulated that Sophie should desert her house guest then it had to be a serious problem and that meant family. Since the son and daughter were on the trail (and if Sophie were right and Charlie was too old for sexual shenanigans) it could be something to do with the granddaughter. Had Edna heard the news that the girl had been spotted in Irving and felt the need to discuss it with the only member of the family available at the moment? Or had there been a new development? Could Jen be at Glenaffric?
The doorbell rang. Russell Kramer stood in the corridor, beaming. H
e had no car free for her but she might care to accompany him on a supply run to Irving, this being their local metropolis and well worth a visit. Miss Pink saw that he had his orders: to keep her out of the way. Oh, rubbish, she thought, I’m paranoid; he’s just aiming to keep me amused.
He worked hard at it, talking as he drove: about the history of the Rothbury from the Twenties, about the current tenants, the skiers who thronged the restaurant in winter, the hunters and the tourists. When Miss Pink could get a word in she was equally garrulous concerning her visit to Glenaffric, pausing suggestively for his comments, but on the subject of the Gunns and their property he was suddenly taciturn, except in one direction. She returned to Ballard surprised and puzzled at what he had revealed, if unwittingly, but thinking that it could have no bearing on the problem of Jen Jardine.
She had a key to the apartment. She entered, thinking it was unoccupied, to find Sophie in the living-room — and she knew immediately that there was trouble. At two o’clock in the afternoon there was a bottle of Jack Daniel’s on the coffee table and Sophie was either drunk or so tense she seemed unable to utter a greeting. She stared mutely.
‘Been waiting long?’ Miss Pink asked politely.
‘Not long.’ The other made a clumsy gesture as if wiping something away. ‘How was your morning?’ The bright tone was at odds with the fixed glare.
‘So-so. How did you find Edna?’
‘Sit down.’ It was brusque: an order, not an invitation. ‘A drink?’
‘No thanks. I had wine with my lunch. Have you had lunch?’
There was no answer. Miss Pink subsided into an armchair. Sophie stood up and started to pace, carrying her glass, sipping, pausing before a picture of Yellowstone Falls.
‘She called last night. Jen. She called Charlie.’
‘I thought it might concern her.’
‘Weird!’ Sophie turned, flinging out her hands, spilling bourbon. ‘We still don’t know where she is. There’s nothing we can do. Edna doesn’t know I told you. The bastard!’
