Relative Dangers

Chapter 2-1

Chapter 2As the grumbling chug of the old flatbed truck died away, Mari hurried to finish the most essential of her morning chores. It would take at least four hours for Berne to get the truck loaded with hay and return from Cottonwood Crossing, a farming community about twenty miles west of Red Rock Canyon. This meant she had four hours to get out to the construction site to return the borrowed rope and then back to the stable.

Six days had passed since her accident. Each day she had fretted more over the lack of an opportunity to slip away and accomplish the small task. With the passage of each day, it seemed more urgent that she do it. Impatiently, she kicked off the old rubber boots and oversized coveralls she wore to clean stalls. The latest of the itinerant hands had quit yesterday. He left the tedious but necessary chore undone, so it had been one of her first priorities today.

The next task was to give Duchess her daily workout. Mari found that more to her liking. The young mare was lively but neither lazy nor hard-headed. She would definitely make a good barrel racing horse for her owner, Liz Donaldson of Scottsdale. Mari had rapidly discovered the actual practice sessions went much better if she let the young mare work off some of her excess energy first. Thus she rationalized the trip to the construction site was a legitimate part of her day’s work.

For this sort of ride, the heavy roping saddle was not necessary. Mari tossed a bareback pad on the mare’s back and cinched it in place. The pseudo saddle was little more than a small quilted oval with the cinch and a pair of stirrups attached. To Mari, the stirrups were the most essential part. Like most skilled western riders, she rode on her feet, which lowered the center of gravity and improved the balance and stability of both horse and rider.

She swung up with an easy spring and headed out the gate, holding Duchess to a trot until they turned off along the new road. Then, she gave in to the mare’s eagerness and let her break into a lope. At that gait, the two mile trip took only a matter of minutes.

As they approached the fenced compound, Mari checked Duchess, pulling her back to a trot and then a walk. She drew rein beside the guard shack, temporarily overcome by shyness and uncertainty. Fences and guards—I didn’t expect that! The elderly fellow inside looked up from a paperback book and smiled.

“Howdy, Missy. Can I help you?”

Mari swallowed before she spoke. “I—I’m looking for someone. He drives a little blue truck. He—he lent me a rope a few days ago and I wanted to return it.”

“That’d be Dusty—er, Mr. Layne. I think he’s around. There’s his motor home, over under the cottonwood tree yonder. If your horse isn’t too spooky, you can just ride on over.”

“Thanks.” Relief filled Mari when she saw she would not be treated with suspicion or barred from the yard. She felt a little more comfortable as she guided Duchess through the open gate and zigzagged her way among the machinery toward the motor home. Even with a thick coat of red dust, she saw it was obviously new—shiny, elegant and new. The vehicle still bore the Phoenix dealer’s license plate and tag on the rear bumper.

Then, she noticed the sign over the door. “Site Superintendent.” She gulped as her stomach lurched with alarm. Oh, no! Her benefactor wasn’t the ordinary construction worker she’d assumed him to be. He was probably older than she’d thought, too. For a moment, she was tempted to drop the rope, turn, and run. No, his courtesy and kindness deserves a better response than that. Before she could act on her sudden shyness, the door swung open and he stepped out.

He was every bit as good looking as she remembered—tall and lean, his body well-muscled under the faded jeans and dark denim shirt. He had a white hard hat in his hand, and the sun lit glints of copper and gold in his slightly curling russet hair. And his eyes! She had never seen bluer or brighter. They crinkled at the corners now as he recognized her and smiled.

“Hello there! All over the effects of your accident?”

She stammered, trying to find the right words. “Oh yeah, I’m fine. I brought your rope back. Sorry it took so long, but I just couldn’t get away. Berne went for hay today and I had a little time.”

He stood on the top step, studying her, his head c****d a little to one side. “No problem. I really didn’t need it. I trusted you to return it when you could. Didn’t figure you’d be riding for a few days, anyway.”

She felt the flush heat her face under his steady regard. “I’m embarrassed, though. It’s been nearly a week. Then, when I got here, I didn’t even know who to ask for. I know you told me, but I forgot. I guess my brain was kind of rattled right then.”

He smiled. “Didn’t expect you to remember. I’m Dustin Layne. Most people call me Dusty.”

That smile. She couldn’t help being charmed, almost put at ease. “I’m Marisa McCabe. I mostly go by Mari, with an I instead of a Y.”

“Okay, Mari. Since you rode all the way out here, can’t I offer you a soda or a cup of coffee? Now since we’re properly acquainted, that is.”

She was torn between wanting to—so very much—and the firmly ingrained habits of distrust, keeping everyone at a distance. The custom of shying away from strangers, deeply instilled by Berne’s harsh paranoia, was hard to overcome.

Perhaps Dusty could see the conflict in her face. His smile did not waver. “It’s too nice a day to be indoors. Let’s sit out here and visit a few minutes. Here, tie your horse to my truck.”

Wanting won. Mari slid down and followed him to the little blue truck, parked at the rear of the motor home. He took the reins and tied Duchess to one corner of the metal rack. “There. What’ll it be now, soda or coffee?”

“Coffee’s fine.”

“Okay. I’ll be right back.” Dusty disappeared into the motor home, leaving the door open behind him. Mari caught a glimpse of the interior through the gap. Compared to the tin roofed shack she called home, it looked incredibly luxurious. She sighed. I fit in here about like a farrier on the flight line. Site Superintendent—geez!

In a moment, Dusty returned, a steaming mug in each hand. He led the way to a make-shift outdoor dining room, a table made from a large cable spool with several folding camp chairs around it under a blue tarp stretched from the side of the motor home for an awning. He set the cups down and pulled out one of the chairs for her. “Oh, shoot, I forgot to ask if you took cream or sugar. I drink it black, but I ought to remember not everybody else does.”

“Black is fine,” Mari said quickly. “That’s how I usually drink mine.”

He grinned. “I don’t do much entertaining. You’ll have to excuse my manners.”

Mari couldn’t see anything to excuse, but she didn’t say so. Needing something to occupy her hands, she carefully picked up her cup and took a sip. Of course it was still too hot. She sucked in a quick gasp of air to cool her mouth. “I never guessed you were the boss out here!” she blurted. “When you said you were on this job, I figured you were just one of the crew.”

He shrugged, going a little red beneath his outdoorsman’s tan. “Does it make any difference? It shouldn’t. I mean—oh, hell, Mari, I’m really just one of the crew. Somebody has to be in charge, that’s all. It doesn’t make me any different. I’m still the same guy who started out as a laborer a few years back.”

She looked at him shyly over the rim of her cup, trying not to let her nervousness show. She was so unaccustomed to talking to men unless it was business, like about a horse. She knew she must seem naive and gauche. Why hadn’t she worn her best jeans, the ones she usually wore for school? Even if they would have gotten dirty with leather oil and horse sweat, there wasn’t much more school to save them for anyway.

Dusty watched her with what seemed a mixture of admiration and amusement in his expression. “Is that your dad, the guy I saw?”

“Uh, sort of,” she mumbled.

“Huh?”

The whole mess was too difficult to explain. “Yeah,” she affirmed, reluctance plainer in her voice than she intended. “I’m sorry he was rude. I—well, it’s just his way, to be brusque and short with people. He doesn’t want me getting involved with strangers. It could just cause problems, interfere with things, you know? Waste time. There’s an awful lot to do, when it’s just the two of us, and good help is so hard to get.” She knew she was rambling, babbling, but what could she say to make her complicated situation sound right?

Dusty listened, watching her. She looked at him as if she were daring him to question or contradict her. He saw through her words as well as her attitude, sensed pain behind the defiance and shame within the facade of bravado. Yet she was not going to complain about the harsh conditions of her life nor whine about its obvious unpleasantness. He had to admire that, had to appreciate her pride and sympathize.

Without asking himself why, he recognized there was something about this strange young woman that intrigued and appealed to him. Winning any degree of trust from her would definitely take time, even longer to gain acceptance of the friendship he was moved to offer, but he vowed he would try. He could see she was lonely, isolated, and culturally deprived, but the reasons behind those traits were harder to discover. For now, a casual and oblique approach was clearly the only one possible.

She finished the coffee and set the mug down gently. “That was good. Thank you. I—I’d better get going. I need to get back and finish my chores.”

Dusty stood first, watched as she rose from the chair with her natural horsewoman’s grace. “Okay. Nice seein’ you again. You’re welcome to stop by anytime you’re out this way. The coffee pot is always on and there’s sodas and beer in the icebox.”

“That’d be nice. I wish I could return the favor, but…”

The wistful tone which crept into her voice tugged at his emotions. “No problem,” he said. “I know how it is. Never enough time and money to cover necessities, much less any frills. I grew up on a little cow-starving ranch down in New Mexico.”

“Oh.” She looked at him a moment, hope and something else in her eyes. Then her glance slid away again, as her hands moved restlessly. She turned to pace over to the mare. “Well, like I said, I’ve gotta go. Thank you again. If I can ever help you some way…,” her voice trailed off as if she couldn’t visualize any way she could possibly repay his kindness. She swung onto the mare’s back and turned around to face him. There was defiance in her pose and yet her eyes begged. For understanding? Forgiveness? Maybe just acceptance of her as she was.

“Bye, Mari. Take care. Be seein’ you around.”

“Yeah, you take care too.” She heeled the mare sharply and headed for the gate.

* * * *

Nearly two weeks had passed since Mari’s visit. Dusty began to wonder if she was avoiding him. Then, he cursed himself. Why should he notice or care? She was still around, of course, as he had seen her near home, but hadn’t felt he should stop. She’s just a kid, just a few years older than Pam. I’m way out of her league. I ought to back off and let her alone.

The few times he went into Red Canyon City after work to have a beer with some of the other guys, he noticed there was no shortage of women at the various hang-outs, Anglo, Indian, Mexican and mixtures of all three. More than one pair of feminine eyes looked at him appreciatively, some in open invitation, but he didn’t respond.

After the debacle with Deborah and fourteen years of marriage down the drain, he knew he wasn’t ready for a relationship, but it was a weak excuse. Most of these ladies had neither expectations nor even desire for anything serious or long-term and he knew it. They were available for an evening or a weekend, but their painted faces, revealing clothes and bold flirting seemed much too blatant.