reflection in the mirror.
“Trust me,” Mrs. Hankins said with a gleam in her eye, “it will help you feel better.”
When Anne was safely tucked between cleansheets, Mrs. Hankins said, “I’ll go tidy up the kitchen.”
“You don’t have to do that. Dad will—”
“Your dad’s a fine man, and I’m sure he’s a fine professor, but his kitchen skills are a bit lacking.”
Anne smiled. She was familiar with her father’s bad habits. Depression stole over her as she imagined him living alone, without her. Anne struggled against it. She leaned back against the pillows and, while Mrs. Hankins bustled about the apartment, Anne stared up at the solitary patch of grey sky.
She closed her eyes and pictured the rugged mountains of Colorado etched against the bright blue heavens. The image of Morgan astride his big bay stallion galloped across the canvas of her memory. It was Morgan she missed most of all. She told herself that just as there was no more bay horse, she had no hope of ever seeing Morgan again. Yet, like the bitter wind that surged outside her window, the memories persisted, filling her with both longing and despair for what could never be.
Sixteen
“P
EOPLE ARE CRUEL.”
Over the months, Anne’s words returned to Morgan time and again. What he heard her
really
say was
“You’re cruel.”
The look of horror in her brown eyes and the revulsion her face expressed when he shot the bay, hounded him. She hadn’t understood, of course. She’d thought him cruel and heartless, when in reality he’d done the most humane thing possible. They had parted in anger, she had left for New York, and he’d never been able to tell her he was sorry.
When Marti had first told him that Anne had gone without so much as a good-bye to him, Morgan had been furious. He couldn’t believe that she’d deserted him. Marti insisted that something had been wrong with Anne, something to do with her health. Angrily, he had brushed off Marti’s explanation, but as summer turned into fall and he began to over-comethe hurt of Anne’s abandonment, he began to remember the wonderful times they’d shared. His anger dulled, while his good memories grew vivid.
Cold November wind blasted down from the mountains, bringing snow before Thanksgiving. Skip, who’d stayed on as a regular ranch hand, took off two weeks and went to L.A. to visit Marti. Morgan tried to keep himself busy with ranch chores and with the search for a horse he liked as much as the bay.
Skip called him over Thanksgiving. “You should come out here, Morgan. The sun shines every day.”
“Don’t get a sunburn.”
“And Hollywood is something else!”
Morgan grinned, hearing the excitement in Skip’s voice. “Don’t go getting ‘discovered’—we need you back here. How’s Marti?”
“Great. She’s already asked Maggie for a job next summer. I guess I’m irresistible.”
“I won’t tell her you said that. Has Marti heard anything from Anne?” he asked, more casually than he felt.
“The last letter she got, Anne wrote that she’d been in the hospital, but that she was home now.”
“The hospital?” Morgan felt his heart constrict. “What was wrong with her?”
“Anne never says, but Marti believes it’s something really serious. Why don’t you write Anne?”
“I’ll think about it.” Morgan hung up and thought about little else. Why was life treating him so unfairly? First his father, now Anne, and eventually, maybe even himself and Aunt Maggie. Morgan hated the injustice of it all.
A week before Christmas, he went to talk to his aunt. “I’ve been thinking of taking some time
off,”
he said.
Maggie put down her pen and closed the ledger book she was working with. “You’re not a hired hand, Morgan. You’re family. You work hard, and if you want to get away for a while, go on.”
“You don’t think Uncle Don will mind?”
“If you’d gone to college, you wouldn’t be here at all. He won’t mind. Where will you
“Trust me,” Mrs. Hankins said with a gleam in her eye, “it will help you feel better.”
When Anne was safely tucked between cleansheets, Mrs. Hankins said, “I’ll go tidy up the kitchen.”
“You don’t have to do that. Dad will—”
“Your dad’s a fine man, and I’m sure he’s a fine professor, but his kitchen skills are a bit lacking.”
Anne smiled. She was familiar with her father’s bad habits. Depression stole over her as she imagined him living alone, without her. Anne struggled against it. She leaned back against the pillows and, while Mrs. Hankins bustled about the apartment, Anne stared up at the solitary patch of grey sky.
She closed her eyes and pictured the rugged mountains of Colorado etched against the bright blue heavens. The image of Morgan astride his big bay stallion galloped across the canvas of her memory. It was Morgan she missed most of all. She told herself that just as there was no more bay horse, she had no hope of ever seeing Morgan again. Yet, like the bitter wind that surged outside her window, the memories persisted, filling her with both longing and despair for what could never be.
Sixteen
“P
EOPLE ARE CRUEL.”
Over the months, Anne’s words returned to Morgan time and again. What he heard her
really
say was
“You’re cruel.”
The look of horror in her brown eyes and the revulsion her face expressed when he shot the bay, hounded him. She hadn’t understood, of course. She’d thought him cruel and heartless, when in reality he’d done the most humane thing possible. They had parted in anger, she had left for New York, and he’d never been able to tell her he was sorry.
When Marti had first told him that Anne had gone without so much as a good-bye to him, Morgan had been furious. He couldn’t believe that she’d deserted him. Marti insisted that something had been wrong with Anne, something to do with her health. Angrily, he had brushed off Marti’s explanation, but as summer turned into fall and he began to over-comethe hurt of Anne’s abandonment, he began to remember the wonderful times they’d shared. His anger dulled, while his good memories grew vivid.
Cold November wind blasted down from the mountains, bringing snow before Thanksgiving. Skip, who’d stayed on as a regular ranch hand, took off two weeks and went to L.A. to visit Marti. Morgan tried to keep himself busy with ranch chores and with the search for a horse he liked as much as the bay.
Skip called him over Thanksgiving. “You should come out here, Morgan. The sun shines every day.”
“Don’t get a sunburn.”
“And Hollywood is something else!”
Morgan grinned, hearing the excitement in Skip’s voice. “Don’t go getting ‘discovered’—we need you back here. How’s Marti?”
“Great. She’s already asked Maggie for a job next summer. I guess I’m irresistible.”
“I won’t tell her you said that. Has Marti heard anything from Anne?” he asked, more casually than he felt.
“The last letter she got, Anne wrote that she’d been in the hospital, but that she was home now.”
“The hospital?” Morgan felt his heart constrict. “What was wrong with her?”
“Anne never says, but Marti believes it’s something really serious. Why don’t you write Anne?”
“I’ll think about it.” Morgan hung up and thought about little else. Why was life treating him so unfairly? First his father, now Anne, and eventually, maybe even himself and Aunt Maggie. Morgan hated the injustice of it all.
A week before Christmas, he went to talk to his aunt. “I’ve been thinking of taking some time
off,”
he said.
Maggie put down her pen and closed the ledger book she was working with. “You’re not a hired hand, Morgan. You’re family. You work hard, and if you want to get away for a while, go on.”
“You don’t think Uncle Don will mind?”
“If you’d gone to college, you wouldn’t be here at all. He won’t mind. Where will you
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