quietly.
"Thanks for doing this," I said. "I really didn't want to ride home."
"I know how you feel," Clay said. "I've gotten myself lost back there before."
"What did you do?"
"Wandered around until I found my way back out." Clay smiled. "It's not that big of an area; it's pretty much impossible to get really lost."
"That's what I was telling myself," I said.
Clay smiled again. "When I'm exploring trails back there it always reminds me of gathering cattle with the rancher I bought Freddy from. He runs a lot of cattle up near Winnemuca and I used to go out there in the fall and help him gather. We'd be pushing some group of steers along and a few of them would break away and take off, headed for somewhere else. I'd always get all excited and think I had to take off after them, but that old man would never turn a hair. He never got out of the trot, either. He'd just look at me kind of tolerantly and say, 'Relax, son. They got the Pacific Ocean on the left and the Atlantic Ocean on the right. Where they gonna go?'
"So that's what I tell myself as I wander around in the woods. You got the Pacific Ocean on the left and the Atlantic on the right. How the hell are you gonna get lost?"
I laughed. "I'll remember that," I told him.
Clay pulled the rig up my driveway and I unloaded Plumber and put him back in his corral. It was late enough that I fed both horses and the cow. Clay stood there, looking indecisive. I'd already thanked him for bringing me home; now I wondered if I should invite him in for a beer. I didn't really want to; I wanted to flop down on the couch with a glass of wine and relax. But maybe politeness demanded I be more hospitable.
I was about to open my mouth when the phone rang, making my mind up for me. "Thanks again," I said hastily to Clay. "Got to get that. See you later."
Dashing up the hill and through the door, I managed to grab the phone before the answering machine picked up. "Hello," I said breathlessly.
"Hi, babe," said a voice both friendly and familiar. Lonny.
"Hi." I sat down on the couch and began unlacing my boots, holding the phone between my shoulder and my ear.
"I just called to say hello, see how you were doing." Lonny sounded cheerfully upbeat, his usual tone.
"I'm doing okay," I said. "How about you?"
"Not too bad. I finished building the house last week. Good to have the construction crew off the place at last."
"How's everything going otherwise?" I asked him.
"Real well. I've been going roping a lot." Lonny's voice was friendly and familiar all right, and at the same time distancing, the pleasant voice of an old acquaintance, all intimate undertones gone.
"What's going on in your life?" he asked.
"Not too much. Work. I've been riding Plumber some," I said guardedly.
"You doing okay?"
"More or less. I've been a little down, I guess. How about you? Seeing anybody new?"
"Oh, there's a woman around here I go out with from time to time. Nothing serious. And you?"
"The same." I pictured Lonny's rough-featured face as I spoke, remembered how this older man had been a rock of strength and comfort for me.
"I miss you." I said spontaneously.
"Me, too." Lonny sounded sincere, but still quite cheerful. It was not his nature to let much of anything get him down.
"Actually," I said cautiously, "I have been pretty down lately. I think I'm going through a real depression." If I couldn't tell Lonny, who could I tell?
"Don't do that, Gail. Your life is good. Don't let yourself get depressed."
"It's not something I'm choosing," I snapped. "Depression's not like that. It's something that's happening to me."
"Hogwash. Tell yourself you're happy and you'll be happy."
I said nothing. Lonny meant to help me, I knew. I also knew he took his own advice, and to be fair, it worked for him. No doubt Lonny had never been depressed a day in his life. He had no understanding of the way I felt.
"How are your horses doing?" he asked cheerfully.
"They're fine. How's Burt and Chester and
"Thanks for doing this," I said. "I really didn't want to ride home."
"I know how you feel," Clay said. "I've gotten myself lost back there before."
"What did you do?"
"Wandered around until I found my way back out." Clay smiled. "It's not that big of an area; it's pretty much impossible to get really lost."
"That's what I was telling myself," I said.
Clay smiled again. "When I'm exploring trails back there it always reminds me of gathering cattle with the rancher I bought Freddy from. He runs a lot of cattle up near Winnemuca and I used to go out there in the fall and help him gather. We'd be pushing some group of steers along and a few of them would break away and take off, headed for somewhere else. I'd always get all excited and think I had to take off after them, but that old man would never turn a hair. He never got out of the trot, either. He'd just look at me kind of tolerantly and say, 'Relax, son. They got the Pacific Ocean on the left and the Atlantic Ocean on the right. Where they gonna go?'
"So that's what I tell myself as I wander around in the woods. You got the Pacific Ocean on the left and the Atlantic on the right. How the hell are you gonna get lost?"
I laughed. "I'll remember that," I told him.
Clay pulled the rig up my driveway and I unloaded Plumber and put him back in his corral. It was late enough that I fed both horses and the cow. Clay stood there, looking indecisive. I'd already thanked him for bringing me home; now I wondered if I should invite him in for a beer. I didn't really want to; I wanted to flop down on the couch with a glass of wine and relax. But maybe politeness demanded I be more hospitable.
I was about to open my mouth when the phone rang, making my mind up for me. "Thanks again," I said hastily to Clay. "Got to get that. See you later."
Dashing up the hill and through the door, I managed to grab the phone before the answering machine picked up. "Hello," I said breathlessly.
"Hi, babe," said a voice both friendly and familiar. Lonny.
"Hi." I sat down on the couch and began unlacing my boots, holding the phone between my shoulder and my ear.
"I just called to say hello, see how you were doing." Lonny sounded cheerfully upbeat, his usual tone.
"I'm doing okay," I said. "How about you?"
"Not too bad. I finished building the house last week. Good to have the construction crew off the place at last."
"How's everything going otherwise?" I asked him.
"Real well. I've been going roping a lot." Lonny's voice was friendly and familiar all right, and at the same time distancing, the pleasant voice of an old acquaintance, all intimate undertones gone.
"What's going on in your life?" he asked.
"Not too much. Work. I've been riding Plumber some," I said guardedly.
"You doing okay?"
"More or less. I've been a little down, I guess. How about you? Seeing anybody new?"
"Oh, there's a woman around here I go out with from time to time. Nothing serious. And you?"
"The same." I pictured Lonny's rough-featured face as I spoke, remembered how this older man had been a rock of strength and comfort for me.
"I miss you." I said spontaneously.
"Me, too." Lonny sounded sincere, but still quite cheerful. It was not his nature to let much of anything get him down.
"Actually," I said cautiously, "I have been pretty down lately. I think I'm going through a real depression." If I couldn't tell Lonny, who could I tell?
"Don't do that, Gail. Your life is good. Don't let yourself get depressed."
"It's not something I'm choosing," I snapped. "Depression's not like that. It's something that's happening to me."
"Hogwash. Tell yourself you're happy and you'll be happy."
I said nothing. Lonny meant to help me, I knew. I also knew he took his own advice, and to be fair, it worked for him. No doubt Lonny had never been depressed a day in his life. He had no understanding of the way I felt.
"How are your horses doing?" he asked cheerfully.
"They're fine. How's Burt and Chester and
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