by Gwen Moffat
‘What did Jen say to her grandfather?’
‘It doesn’t make sense.’ Sophie turned bewildered eyes to the window. ‘We don’t know what’s true any more.’ She laughed harshly. ‘Did we ever? One of his jokes? No, it can’t be a joke. And when he didn’t know she was listening, then he could have been speaking the truth — but then he never knew she was listening. He’s a monster. You know something? I figure mental torture is worse than the physical kind.’
Miss Pink stood up and went to the kitchen, returning with a tumbler. ‘I’ll join you,’ she said firmly and poured herself a drink. Sophie regarded her with astonishment.
‘I didn’t know you liked bourbon. I’d have offered —’
‘No need.’ She had offered and had forgotten. Miss Pink didn’t like bourbon; she was trying to jolt this woman into some semblance of normality, of coherence. ‘Tell me what happened after we left last evening,’ she ordered. ‘It had to be afterwards; everything was all right when we rode away.’
Sophie nodded slowly, accepting the need to collect herself. ‘Edna was tired and she went up to bed. Charlie stayed in the den watching TV. Edna was reading when the phone rang. She lifted the extension but he still had the television on and there was a lot of shouting so he wouldn’t have heard her pick up. When he did switch off the TV she heard Jen’s voice. She seemed quite cool, asking after him and Edna — she would have broken in at that point but he said quickly that Jen was to wait, to stay on the line, not ring off, and she heard him put the receiver down so she replaced her own and pretended to be asleep over her book. He must have glanced in, satisfied himself she wasn’t listening and gone back to the den.
‘She didn’t dare pick up the extension again so she crept down the stairs but she only caught the end of the conversation. She heard him say, “You don’t know how she’d take it, sweetie, let’s you and me talk it over first, decide what’s best.” And then he told her to meet him at the hunting cabin tomorrow. That’s today.’
‘Did Edna confront him?’
‘Oh, yes. He said she was drunk, that she’d been dreaming, she’d imagined it all. There was a row but she couldn’t get through to him and they went to bed. Separate rooms, of course. She couldn’t sleep and she tackled him again this morning. Would you believe it, he told her the whole story!’ Sophie was incredulous. Miss Pink’s eyes were narrowed. ‘He said that Jen was pregnant all those years ago and she came to Charlie for money. He made her tell him what she wanted it for but she wouldn’t name the father. He gave her the money. And he never told a soul. You believe that?’
‘Go back a bit. What did Jen want the money for?’
‘To go away of course.’
‘Yes, but for an abortion or to have the baby adopted — or to bring it up herself?’
‘We don’t know. Of course Edna demanded he tell her but Charlie says he has no idea either. He knows, I’m sure of it; he knows if he has a great-grandchild nine years old. But how can you force an answer out of a man like that? All the same, Edna says when he comes back she’ll find out where Jen is if it kills her.’
‘The story’s suspect. If Jen was pregnant she’d have gone to her mother — or to you.’
‘Not if the man responsible was her stepfather.’ They regarded each other thoughtfully, Sophie calmer now. ‘And she’s come home,’ she went on, ‘wants to make contact with her mother, if that phone call means anything — and Charlie’s trying to prevent a meeting? I hate that man. What are we going to do, Melinda?’
‘Is there any way of getting to her before Charlie does?’
‘You mean, ride to hunting camp ahead of him? Impossible. There’s only one trail from Ballard and he’s on it. Besides, the situation’s too fraught. How could any of us stop her talking to Charlie? I hate to say this but right now Jen’s closer to him than to me, or’ — her voice rose — ‘even her own mother. And God knows how Val is going to take this. If only we could think of some way of luring Jen back without alienating her…’ Sophie stared hard at her friend. ‘She might listen to a stranger.’
‘You’re clutching at straws.’ Miss Pink knew exactly what was in the other’s mind and would have none of it. ‘For the moment all you can do is wait, let her make the moves. She left of her own volition, she has to return that way.’ And without her meddling old grandfather putting his oar in.
Sophie sat down. She looked a hundred years old. ‘I guess you’re right: the objective view and all that — which is why I thought — oh shoot, forget it. But we’re going in there tomorrow; we’ll make a point of calling on Charlie at the cabin, see if he might let something slip about where Jen is. We might even bump into her ourselves, by accident.’ She sighed. ‘I’m glad you’re here, Melinda. I don’t know what I’d have done in this apartment all on my own.’
‘You’d have consulted Russell.’
Sophie blinked and looked wary. ‘Maybe. He’s a good friend. What did you make of him? He said he’d ask you to go to Irving.’
‘He’s amusing. We had lunch in a restaurant on the river bank. Do you know it?’
‘My dear! There are so many places to eat in Irving.’
‘This was a gay establishment.’
Sophie’s jaw dropped. ‘I’m amazed!’
‘That such a place should exist?’
‘No, Irving’s much more liberal than Ballard. I’m surprised he should take you there.’
‘The food was good.’ Miss Pink was poker-faced.
‘Did he — What did you talk about?’
‘I wouldn’t say he told me anything personal. He didn’t have to. It isn’t common knowledge, then?’
Sophie said wearily, ‘I should have known you’d guess, you notice everything. No, it’s not common knowledge, definitely not. Only his closest friends know and the obvious people.’
‘Like his wife.’
‘Of course Pat knows. They have a modern marriage and she leads her own life, presumably. But I suspect Pat’s not much interested in sex. She’s a businesswoman. He married for respectability and she — well, for security, mainly, although I guess money came into it. This building belongs to Russell. It’s worked out. There aren’t many married couples you’ll find make such an effective working team as Russell and Pat. But the only other person I know he’s confided in is you.’
‘And Clyde.’
‘Now why would you say that?’
‘It’s obvious. Russell won’t talk about the Gunns, with one exception, and then his face softens —’
‘Damn! They’ll need to watch themselves. Imagine Charlie’s reaction.’
‘I think he knows already.’
‘Impossible!’
‘Yesterday he said that Clyde would never be the man that Val is. I thought then that it was a remark with an edge to it, now I see it was loaded. And then there’s Edna. Mothers usually know the sexual orientation of their sons.’
‘She’ll keep quiet about it.’
‘I think Charlie knows. They’d have given themselves away. People can easily identify heterosexual couples, why not homosexual ones?’
‘Not in Ballard, Montana.’ Sophie was grim. ‘This is redneck country. They’d know better than to be indiscreet around here. San Francisco’s OK, even Irving, although they’d never risk being seen together, even there: too much at stake.’
‘I’d wondered about that.’
‘Yes, I guess you would.’
‘Millions of dollars do tend to intrude on one’s mind.’
4
Sophie had to check the horses at the homestead before they could leave next morning and the sun was high by the time they crossed the swing bridge and climbed to the main Ballard trail. Once they were traversing the slopes of the canyon the outlook was stunning: the river way below, while on the far side a confusion of cliffs and boulder fields was threaded with thin game trails. Not a road nor a house to be seen — only once, an osprey’s nest on a pinnacle. On their own side they saw few animals other than chipmunks but
there was evidence of bears: clawed trees, rotten logs torn apart in the search for grubs.
They came to a landslide that had swept the slope clear, leaving a chute of gravel as unstable as ball bearings. The water was so far below that calculations were immaterial; a hundred feet or a thousand, you were dead if your horse put a foot wrong, yet Sophie’s grey walked across the faint line of the trail without breaking stride. The Arab followed as if she were in her home pasture.
‘How on earth did Charlie cross that, leading a pack-horse?’ Miss Pink asked on the far side.
Sophie laughed. ‘Well, he got across, didn’t he? No sign of bodies.’
‘There wouldn’t be. They’d have gone all the way to the bottom and been swept away.’
‘Like Carol Skinner.’ It was only a murmur.
‘What was that?’
‘I’ll tell you later.’
The canyon trail wasn’t suitable for conversation, the riders forced to move mostly in single file. They rode on and below a steep section Miss Pink emerged from speculation on the fate of another Skinner — Paul’s wife? — to sniff the air. ‘There seem to be more than two horses ahead of us.’
Sophie paused. ‘First time you noticed? There were droppings way back and tracks in the mud where we crossed that creek. It’ll be hunters; not hunting, but looking to see where the game is. They have to apply for permits in advance so they need to know whether it’s worth applying for a given area. A lot of people come in from Benefit; that’s a ghost town back of the rim.’ She gestured vaguely. ‘We passed the junction but it’s easy to miss if you don’t know where it is.’
They climbed zigzags to emerge on a crest and stop for a blow. A flash of light glinted on a spur about a mile away. ‘Val and Clyde,’ Sophie announced, adding, ‘I’m not going to say anything about Jen. I’m wondering, if she did come to the cabin yesterday, if she’ll be around today. I need to know if Val’s seen her without her guessing what I’m driving at.’
‘You’ll know by her manner, surely. She’d be full of it if she’d met Jen.’
‘You’re right. It’s just that, if she’s still in ignorance, I don’t want her to know Jen came to the cabin to meet Charlie. There’s no knowing what Val might do: gallop back to confront him, gallop home to see if Edna’s heard anything more, either way riding hard in this old canyon is the last thing she should be doing, and leaving Clyde to cope with two pack-mules. No, we won’t say anything about Jen.’
‘We were going to take pictures,’ Miss Pink reminded her, a little resentful that this family problem should intrude on such a glorious day.
‘So we were. They should look good coming up to this crest.’
They dismounted, tied their horses and prospected for vantage points. It was quiet except for the sound of the river.
Eventually Val and Clyde appeared below, leading the mules. Val saw them immediately and greeted them from a distance. They responded; if you didn’t do that the horses could take fright when they realised there was someone — some thing — on the trail. It could be a bear.
‘Keep coming,’ Sophie called. ‘We’ll get shots as you pass, then stop there on the top. How’re you doing, Clyde?’
Val kept talking. ‘Just you two? Hi, Melinda. We’ve cleared the trail, no problem. There’s snow on the pass but we got through, made a sort of trench. It was quite an adventure.’ She walked past, Miss Pink and Sophie clicking away. Clyde grinned engagingly for the cameras but made no move to adjust his position. He had no need to, he looked marvellous on a horse.
They stopped on the crest and Sophie made her way towards Val. Miss Pink approached Clyde. ‘You met the others?’ she asked chattily.
‘No.’ He looked mystified. ‘What others?’
‘We’ve seen fresh tracks. Someone’s ahead of us.’
‘That’ll be my dad. He’s at the hunting camp.’ He was observing her closely. ‘There could be someone else around,’ he conceded. ‘People come in from Irving, leave their trailers at an old ghost town. It cuts the distance if you want to reach the back country.’
‘And they stay at the hunting camp?’ She was politely interested.
‘No, ma’am. That’s private; it’s Gunn property.’
‘Have the bears done much damage?’
‘Bears? At the cabin?’
‘That’s why your father is up there: repairing the roof where they tried to break in. Didn’t he tell you?’
‘We didn’t see him. The cabin isn’t right on the trail. You can see it but it’s a hundred yards or so below. The trail stays high. I knew he was planning to come in with the blankets and stuff so I wasn’t surprised to see someone was around. There’s a horse tied outside.’
Val and Clyde left for the homestead. Miss Pink and Sophie checked to make sure no shoes had worked loose and untied their mounts.
‘I take it there’s no word of Jen,’ Miss Pink observed.
‘Val didn’t mention her. I did ask whom she’d met and she said no one. No one at all.’
‘Clyde said they didn’t leave the trail to speak to Charlie although they saw someone was at the cabin.’
‘He was inside — or somewhere.’ Sophie was vague. ‘Val says his pack-horse was loaded ready for off, so he had to be inside — except that the stallion didn’t seem to be around. Val wanted to keep ahead, not have Charlie with her string, not with that spooky animal along. If it’d been me I’d have stopped and let Charlie go first. Now we’re going to run into him. When we do, we get as far off the trail as we can. And we’ll dismount. I don’t want any accidents. I’ll tackle him about Jen when we get home. This is no place for a fight.’
They continued, alert for movement ahead, but nothing materialised, not even a deer. The canyon could have been empty of life and it was strange to find the ground levelling off, to emerge to flowery meadows, and see a cabin below them with a loaded pack-horse tied outside a small corral. At their appearance it neighed shrilly.
‘Where is the stud?’ Sophie murmured. ‘The cabin door’s closed but Charlie can’t be far away; that packhorse is ready to go. It must be at least half an hour since the others passed. Charlie could have seen the bear — ah, that’ll be it! The brute came back and he’s gone after it.’
‘I’d have thought you’d need a steady horse to go after bears.’
‘True, but you can’t chase them on foot. Bears can run fast. We’ve not heard a shot, though. A shot would resound for miles in this canyon.’
‘Are you going down there?’
‘No point. He’s away somewhere and it’s not my cabin. I’ve no interest in it.’
A mile or so further they came to a small lake cupped in a grassy basin and reflecting the sky. The still water was soothing after the constant rush of the river. They watered the horses, tethered them and moved away, carrying their lunch and cans of beer.
‘This is perfection,’ Miss Pink exclaimed, making herself comfortable on a log, popping a beer can. A family of teal patrolled the reeds, bees were loud in the flowers, the slopes were drifted with lupins and Indian paintbrush. A thought struck her and she looked round uneasily. ‘What about the bear?’
‘We haven’t seen him so he’s made himself scarce.’ Sophie wasn’t concerned about bears; she was miles away. Miss Pink opened the lunch box from the Rothbury’s kitchen and inspected the filling inside half a baguette: ‘Salami, ham, cheese, tomato… have you got the same?’ There was no reply. ‘Anyone home?’ she asked mildly.
Sophie turned to her, blinking. ‘How long has that horse been there?’
‘Where do you see a horse?’
‘Back there: at the cabin. The packhorse. Didn’t the ground look bare, where it was tied? That animal’s been there longer than half an hour.’
‘You can leave a saddled horse for hours.’
‘Not a loaded pack animal. I’m going down there. No, don’t panic; I mean when we go back.’ She became aware that her friend was waiting to start lunch and her effort to change tack was obv
ious. ‘This is Chef’s special Submarine,’ she said, opening her own box. ‘The bread’s home-made, the mayonnaise is his secret recipe. I figure it’s white wine, Dijon mustard and sour cream.’
‘It looks scrumptious. I’ve been wondering: why does Charlie have to bring supplies in to the cabin? Why not leave them there?’
‘They have to take everything down after hunting finishes because of thieves.’
‘You mean bears?’
‘Paul Skinner, actually — oh, I shouldn’t have said that! It’s like this: we’ve had a rash of thefts over the last year or two; nothing’s left in any of the hunting cabins that could be stolen. Charlie maintains Paul Skinner is the thief but then Charlie would. I’ve no time for the guy but I have to admit he does get a raw deal. Why, there’s even a rumour that he killed his second wife. Yes, you may well look shocked. But Carol Skinner did throw herself in the river — well, she was found washed up way below Irving. She was an alcoholic and the last people to see her said she was drunk in a bar close to the river. They say she went out to the car-park and no one saw her again — alive. They found her body two days later.’
‘Where was Skinner when she was drinking?’
‘He was in a bar in Ballard twenty miles upriver. And he had alibis. But the rumour goes that she could have reached home and he put the body in the river at Ballard. I heard the story first from Charlie; in fact, it would never surprise me to know Charlie started it. It’s just the kind of joke he’d enjoy. Oh, forget Charlie, we’re supposed to be enjoying ourselves.’
They ate in silence. The surroundings were idyllic and Miss Pink might banish the thought of Charlie’s twisted sense of humour, but the image of that cabin wouldn’t go away — and Jen Jardine going to meet her grandfather there — and the packhorse standing, waiting to go but so glad to see other horses, neighing wildly as they passed…
*
The horse didn’t neigh when they returned. It wasn’t there. ‘Well, that’s a relief,’ Sophie breathed, then suddenly expansive: ‘Charlie had me worried there; I mean, he’s an old man now — and that stud! The guy’s asking for trouble coming in here on his own. He should have brought Byer with him, but it was Byer’s day off yesterday, Saturday; he’d have gone to town. However, no harm done. I wonder if he did go after a bear. We didn’t hear a shot but then, if he was miles away, maybe we wouldn’t.’
