handle congratulations from
friends and neighbors. She paced the kitchen and rubbed the baby’s back in a
rhythmic circle. “There’s too much up in the air about Rob’s death. And about
Bobby.”
“I suppose. I see this engagement as a good omen all
around.” Espie pocketed her dust cloth in the wrap-around apron she habitually
wore. “Bobby’ll be fine with me while you and Holt are gone today. I best fix
some breakfast. He’ll be in from the barn in a few minutes, I expect.” She
opened the refrigerator and extracted eggs and bacon and set them on the
counter beside the loaf of freshly baked bread she’d brought. A soulful
harmonica wailed from her small portable radio. She preferred the tried and
true to newer gadgets like her sons’ iPods.
A juicy eruption announced Bobby’s digestive success.
Maddy mopped up milky drool, then nuzzled his warm head, the downy hair
tickling her lips. She strapped him into the infant seat. He watched her with
solemn eyes, but didn’t fuss.
“Can I do anything to help?”
Espie shook her head. “Don’t you need to change
clothes before you go?” She glanced pointedly at Maddy’s light sneakers and
Machu Picchu T-shirt.
“I’ll be fine. My denim jacket will keep me warm, and
I have a sweater.” A cotton sweater, and not very warm. She didn’t want to tell
the perceptive housekeeper she hadn’t brought anything heavier. Her other
suitcase with her warm clothing had been stolen off the tarmac in Katmandu. For
not the first time.
Clucking her disapproval, Espie arranged bacon strips
in a skillet. “Gets colder than you’d expect in those woods. You watch the
bacon while I fetch some things from the attic.” Wiping her hands on her apron,
she whisked from the room.
Before Maddy could react, the older woman climbed the
pull-down stairs. What could she be looking for?
The bacon was browning nicely, its tempting aroma
making Maddy’s mouth water. She turned over the strips and broke eggs into a
bowl. A few more moments’ rustling and scraping upstairs before the bang of the
attic door announced Espie’s return.
“It took some rummaging, I don’t mind telling you.”
The housekeeper, her crow-black hair flying about her lined face, entered the
kitchen bearing a boot box and a sheepskin jacket. “These were Bonnie’s. She
didn’t take to anything about the ranch, not horseback riding nor cattle nor
nothin’ except the wildness of the mountains. So instead of western boots, Ford
bought her these for her birthday.”
“Holt’s mom?” Maddy eyed the boot box with
trepidation. Apprehension crawled up the back of her neck. Just what she
needed, something else to remind Holt that she’d bolted like his mother. “I
don’t know...”
Espie led her to a chair and proceeded to wait on her
like a clerk in a shoe store. “You’re part of the family now, so don’t be
foolish. Traipsing around the woods, those flimsy sneakers will be soaked in
five minutes.”
“I could wear my riding boots.”
The Ute woman tsked. “You’d ruin them. And you get
sick, what would little Bobby do?” She laced the cordovan-leather hiking boots.
“Holt’s daddy thought Bonnie might like hiking the park trails.”
Despite Maddy’s trepidation about Holt’s reaction, she
yielded. When Espie slipped the boots on her feet, she had to admit they felt
wonderful. “They fit. Well, almost, but with a second pair of socks, I’ll be
fine. Imagine a woman with bigger feet than mine.” Her size tens always seemed
like flippers to her. She laughed, then peered more closely at the boots. “She
didn’t use them. They’ve never been worn.”
“Not once,” Holt said from the kitchen doorway. “She
left the day before Dad planned to give them to her. I didn’t know they were
still around.” He sent a black look Espie’s way.
“Your dad had me pack ‘em away in the attic. Boots’ll
rot up there unused.” She closed the subject by snapping the lid on the boot
box and
friends and neighbors. She paced the kitchen and rubbed the baby’s back in a
rhythmic circle. “There’s too much up in the air about Rob’s death. And about
Bobby.”
“I suppose. I see this engagement as a good omen all
around.” Espie pocketed her dust cloth in the wrap-around apron she habitually
wore. “Bobby’ll be fine with me while you and Holt are gone today. I best fix
some breakfast. He’ll be in from the barn in a few minutes, I expect.” She
opened the refrigerator and extracted eggs and bacon and set them on the
counter beside the loaf of freshly baked bread she’d brought. A soulful
harmonica wailed from her small portable radio. She preferred the tried and
true to newer gadgets like her sons’ iPods.
A juicy eruption announced Bobby’s digestive success.
Maddy mopped up milky drool, then nuzzled his warm head, the downy hair
tickling her lips. She strapped him into the infant seat. He watched her with
solemn eyes, but didn’t fuss.
“Can I do anything to help?”
Espie shook her head. “Don’t you need to change
clothes before you go?” She glanced pointedly at Maddy’s light sneakers and
Machu Picchu T-shirt.
“I’ll be fine. My denim jacket will keep me warm, and
I have a sweater.” A cotton sweater, and not very warm. She didn’t want to tell
the perceptive housekeeper she hadn’t brought anything heavier. Her other
suitcase with her warm clothing had been stolen off the tarmac in Katmandu. For
not the first time.
Clucking her disapproval, Espie arranged bacon strips
in a skillet. “Gets colder than you’d expect in those woods. You watch the
bacon while I fetch some things from the attic.” Wiping her hands on her apron,
she whisked from the room.
Before Maddy could react, the older woman climbed the
pull-down stairs. What could she be looking for?
The bacon was browning nicely, its tempting aroma
making Maddy’s mouth water. She turned over the strips and broke eggs into a
bowl. A few more moments’ rustling and scraping upstairs before the bang of the
attic door announced Espie’s return.
“It took some rummaging, I don’t mind telling you.”
The housekeeper, her crow-black hair flying about her lined face, entered the
kitchen bearing a boot box and a sheepskin jacket. “These were Bonnie’s. She
didn’t take to anything about the ranch, not horseback riding nor cattle nor
nothin’ except the wildness of the mountains. So instead of western boots, Ford
bought her these for her birthday.”
“Holt’s mom?” Maddy eyed the boot box with
trepidation. Apprehension crawled up the back of her neck. Just what she
needed, something else to remind Holt that she’d bolted like his mother. “I
don’t know...”
Espie led her to a chair and proceeded to wait on her
like a clerk in a shoe store. “You’re part of the family now, so don’t be
foolish. Traipsing around the woods, those flimsy sneakers will be soaked in
five minutes.”
“I could wear my riding boots.”
The Ute woman tsked. “You’d ruin them. And you get
sick, what would little Bobby do?” She laced the cordovan-leather hiking boots.
“Holt’s daddy thought Bonnie might like hiking the park trails.”
Despite Maddy’s trepidation about Holt’s reaction, she
yielded. When Espie slipped the boots on her feet, she had to admit they felt
wonderful. “They fit. Well, almost, but with a second pair of socks, I’ll be
fine. Imagine a woman with bigger feet than mine.” Her size tens always seemed
like flippers to her. She laughed, then peered more closely at the boots. “She
didn’t use them. They’ve never been worn.”
“Not once,” Holt said from the kitchen doorway. “She
left the day before Dad planned to give them to her. I didn’t know they were
still around.” He sent a black look Espie’s way.
“Your dad had me pack ‘em away in the attic. Boots’ll
rot up there unused.” She closed the subject by snapping the lid on the boot
box and
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