Relative Dangers

Chapter 2-2

Funny, too, because Deb had always worn quite a bit of makeup and had a vivacious manner that could easily be seen as flirtatious. She’d always liked striking clothes, too. Now none of those things appealed. More than one evening, he left long before the others were ready to call it a night and drove home, grumpy and alone.

Those times he always glowered at the untidy sprawl of buildings, corrals, old vehicles, and junk comprising the McCabe Stable. Even in the dark, the place looked squalid and depressing. He’d heard in town McCabe was half Indian, more than half surly, and perhaps a little crazy as well. They said in his younger days he’d been mean in a fight, and probably still could be if he chose to, though he stayed out of the bars now. But, to give the devil his due, he was a good horse trainer—or was it the girl?

From there the speakers usually went on to discuss Mari, their conjectures perhaps less bawdy than might have been expected, but still offensive. Dusty had to fight down an urge to shut them up. Especially when one opined with a leer, “I bet that filly could give you quite a ride if old Berne wasn’t around.”

“Huh,” another one put in, “Who says old Berne hasn’t already saddle broke her? I mean, he’s an Injun…”

“Hell, she’s his kid, ain’t she?”

“There’s them what says not, but I don’t know. Not that it would matter to an Injun, him drunk enough…”

“Well, don’t try,” another voice contributed. “That gal is colder than dry ice and ‘ud sooner run you down with one of them half-wild horses than have a good time.”

“Oh yeah? Whatsa matta, Buster? Did you try to score and miss?”

Before the raucous laughter died, Dusty got up and stalked out. He couldn’t handle it any longer. He saw the utter folly in picking a fight with a half dozen local rough necks just because they were talking—obviously with no real knowledge—about a girl he barely knew. So said the voice of sanity, but his feelings said something else.

March became April and the days grew longer and warmer. Finally, Dusty figured out Mari rode almost every evening to exercise some of the colts or whatever horses she was currently working. Then, he noticed the hoof prints leading north from the highway along the fence, on a trail too rutted and narrow to be termed a road. Twice, when he was able to get away, he drove a short ways along the track and waited, but to no avail.

On the third try, his patience was rewarded. Before he reached the wash ending the portion of the track his truck would navigate, he saw her coming towards him. She was riding a big rangy Appaloosa, a horse he hadn’t seen before. The low golden rays of the late sun gilded her hair and lent a special glow to her healthy outdoor complexion. Without aid or artifice, she was really beautiful. She smiled when she saw him and urged her mount to a quicker pace.

As she drew near, he called a greeting. “Hi! Haven’t seen much of you lately. Is everything okay?”

She reined in beside him and nodded.

“Yes, it’s been busy. Berne hired a guy and then fired him three days later, but not until he’d contracted for three more horses. This is one of them. I said I’d take him. The kid who had him was having trouble. I’m not sure why. He seems to be a real nice horse.”

Dusty slapped the horse’s neck lightly and combed his fingers through the sparse and bristly Appaloosa mane, simply because he needed something it occupy his hands. “No more accidents?”

She shook her head and laughed a little. “Oh, no. I’ll never live that down, will I? Really, I’m a good rider. I don’t make a habit of falling off. It was the saddle, the darn cinch.”

He gave her a wry grin. “I figured as much. Just making conversation.”

She studied the horse’s neck, glanced off at the trees along the river bank, finally quickly at him and even more quickly away again. “How’s the job going?”

He shrugged. “Fair so far. We’re not far behind schedule. Those threatened protests haven’t happened yet, nor has the bunch from Ecolojihad showed up. Nothing but the usual kinds of problems, really.”

For a moment, both were silent, looking at each other while trying to pretend they weren’t. “You look tired.” They both spoke at once, saying the same thing.

“Well, you do,” Mari said.

“You do too.”

This time she shrugged. “It’s the long days. I can’t seem to get all my chores done plus my homework and still sleep a few hours. It’s only five more weeks, though. I guess I messed up, taking on this horse, but if I can solve his problem, I’ll have the money to buy a dress for graduation. That’s the only way I’ll get one.”

He had to bite his tongue on the impulse to offer. He had no business buying her a dress. “Isn’t—doesn’t—I’d think your dad would be proud of you.”

She looked at him incredulously. “Berne proud of me? You’ve got to be kidding! Whatever for? He doesn’t think school is worth much, ‘specially for a girl. I did quit for two years. He wasn’t very happy when I went back this year to finish. I—well, it was just something I wanted to do, really graduate, not just get a GED.”

Dusty bit back the harsh words welling up. She wasn’t the one he was angry with, anyway. He struggled to gentle his tone. “I happen to agree with you. That diploma is pretty essential, whatever you want to do, and it’s quite an accomplishment, especially the way you’re doing it.”

She shrugged again, dismissing it all. “Horses don’t care. It’s just another piece of paper. Maybe I put too much stock in it, making a big deal when it really isn’t.”

He had to reassure her, try to counteract the eroding harshness of Berne McCabe’s narrow minded ideas. “It is a big deal. Don’t start doubting yourself, Mari. It’s important. For one thing, you’ve set a goal and you’re going to reach it. It’s a big deal any way you look at it.”

She nodded, then tore her gaze away from his to study her right boot toe for a long moment.

“I—well, I’m glad you agree with me. I was beginning to have doubts. Berne said it was bunk. He wasn’t wasting time to go see them hand me a stupid piece of paper. It won’t even buy a cup of coffee. He did say he’d feed that night though. Well, he more or less agreed to, anyway.”

Sudden irrational rage flooded him. “Oh, sh—for gosh sakes, what’s he got against education, anyway? Does he think it isn’t macho enough or something?”

“It’s just not worth much to a horse trainer. He’s done well enough with just eighth grade. He says engineers and doctors and lawyers might need it, but that’s ‘cause they’re a passel of fools to begin with. If he doesn’t want to go, it’s okay. If I don’t get a new dress, I guess it doesn’t matter either, ‘cause the gown will cover it up, anyway.”

“You know, I’d like to go,” he said, surprising himself. “Do you ‘spose they’d let me in?”

A flash of shock swept across her face, followed by doubt mixed with delight. “I get two tickets. Every graduate does. For their parents, I guess. My mom’s been dead for years, and Berne won’t go, so I could give you one. Are you sure you want to? I mean it is just a little hick country school, almost half Indian…”

Dusty fought not to glare at her. Why does she belittle everything she does? “Yeah, I’d really like to. I haven’t been to a high school graduation in years. Unless you don’t—unless you’d rather I didn’t.”

A wave of pink swept over her face. “No! Oh, no! I’d love for you to come, really. I don’t—there isn’t anyone else I want to invite. It would be nice to have somebody there. I’ll get a ticket for you as soon as they issue them.”

“Okay, Mari. Don’t make yourself late, now. Take care.” He stepped back, giving her and the horse room to move.

She flashed him a quick dazzling smile. “You too. Bye, Dusty.” She spurred the Appaloosa lightly and the horse leaped forward into a lope. Dusty followed her back down the narrow trail, pondering the things she’d said as well as those she hadn’t.

From then on, he figured out the pattern of her rides and became adept at being the right place at the right time. With warmer weather, the crew was starting an hour earlier and quitting earlier too, which usually let him leave early enough to catch her. It wasn’t quite every day, but not many days passed without at least a few minutes together.

Her shyness and diffidence fell away like a snake’s old skin to reveal a delightfully quick mind, a vivid imagination, keen curiosity, and quirky humor. The boundaries of Mari’s world might be narrow, but she did not let any of it confine her, at least not her mind. He learned she was an avid reader, her favorite subjects were English and History, and her favorite color was turquoise. She favored Mexican and Indian food, and liked and missed her older brother Danny. As he gleaned knowledge of her from their conversations, he shared a few personal facts, preferences, and interests too. Her face lit like a rainbow now when she saw him. He looked forward to their meetings as the high point of his days.

* * * *

The first Saturday in May, Berne made a surprising announcement at breakfast. “You can hold things down here a couple of days, Mar. I’m going to the Reservation to take care of some business with Martha.”

Martha was Berne’s older sister. Married to an InDinay medicine man, she was firmly committed to tribal ways and denied her Anglo heritage completely. Mari had only met Martha twice but had found her totally intimidating. Martha had several sons and daughters, ostensibly Mari’s cousins. She had no desire to meet them if they were anything like their mother.

Now, hearing this peculiar news, Mari hardly knew what to think. “Okay,” she gulped. “What do you want me to do besides feed and stuff?”

“Nothin’ special. You better doctor Lightfoot’s leg every day and work on Duchess and the Appy. I oughta be back by noon Monday. Make sure they’re all fed and watered Monday before you leave for school.”

An hour later, the pickup rolled out the gate and turned east, leaving Mari looking at forty-eight hours or more of comparative freedom. Not total freedom, of course, but at least freedom to schedule her own work, set her own pace, and perhaps find time to ride to town and buy a dress.

When she dug out her cache of money, saved piecemeal over a number of years, she found there was more than she expected. Then too, Duchess’s owner had come by and been so pleased with the mare’s progress she had slipped Mari a ten dollar bonus on the spot. Fortunately Berne had been occupied elsewhere at the moment. He considered all the receipts from the Stable his and doled out money to Mari with greatest reluctance. In all, it should be enough. Perhaps not enough to purchase the most elegant dress in Red Canyon City, but surely one much better than the two in her closet, which were worn, out of style, and now much too small.

She led Lightfoot out and tied him to the hitching rack. He had pulled a tendon the previous week.

Genuinely fond of the big bay, she had been as disturbed as Berne by the injury. Still she had said a silent prayer of gratitude she hadn’t been riding him when it happened. As it was, she could hardly be blamed, although she did catch the brunt of Berne’s ill temper that day. Per the vet’s instructions, the gelding had to have hot packs and liniment rubdowns twice a day until it healed.

She watched closely as she brought the horse out of the corral. He wasn’t favoring the leg quite so much today. The swelling was definitely beginning to go down, too. Finally the treatment was over. She put the bay back in his pen before she caught and saddled Duchess. Feeling one last time to be sure her money was tucked securely in the deepest pocket of her jeans, she swung into the saddle and headed for town.

The eastern city limits of Red Canyon City were almost exactly a mile from the stable gate, but her goal was the new mall on the southwest side of town, close to the high school. It was roughly a half mile farther. Mari knew Berne would not approve of her riding through town, but since she did not have a driver’s license—and the only operating vehicle on the place was the cantankerous old flat-bed hay truck anyway—she didn’t have much choice. She could certainly ride the distance a whole lot faster than she could walk it.

She picketed Duchess at the edge of the school grounds, in an area secluded by a small grove of cottonwood trees. She made sure the cinch was loosened, removed the bridle to replace it with a halter, and tied the mare securely to a branch a little higher than her head. “There, girl, you’ll be all right, won’t you?”

Mari patted the mare and hurried away, across the parking lot to the mall. Actually, it wasn’t really very much, a JCPenney store at one end, Wal-Mart at the other, and about a dozen smaller shops in between. It had been open just long enough for the novelty to wear off, so at ten on a Saturday morning, there were only a few cars in the parking lot, mostly those of people who worked there.

Clothes in the trendy “Foxy Ladies” shop were too expensive for her, of course. The only girls who even claimed to shop there were the school’s topmost clique: the banker’s twins, the daughter of the head doctor at the BIA hospital, and the mayor’s two girls. They wouldn’t so much as acknowledge people like Mari existed. She didn’t even sneak a look at the windows as she hurried past. Actually Penney’s might be too high, but she could at least look. She stepped through the doors.

Her pace started to slow as doubts and insecurity assailed her. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. More than one of the sales clerks gave her a dubious look as she passed. Oops, I probably should have stopped to change and clean up a little.

Then, she saw it—a dress on a manikin in the junior size section. She stopped, caught her breath, and just looked. It was ice blue, a jacquard fabric with a pattern of dainty roses worked in a silvery thread. The cut was plain. A gently rounded neck, cap sleeves, and a straight line from shoulder to hip where a crushed sash of silver-blue ribbon adorned with a brighter blue rose topped a short frothy skirt.

“Oh!” It was a sigh, a wish, a hopeless plea. Then she saw the price tag—$52.99—-six dollars and change more than her hard-earned hoard. Her spirits plummeted. With a last longing look, she walked slowly to the racks and began to look through the other dresses.

Most of them cost at least fifty dollars and most were too outrageous or much too dowdy. She couldn’t afford and didn’t want a strapless red dress, a sparkling sequined gown of black with red and silver ‘lightning’ patterns down the front, or a neon green fishtail skirted dress that left one shoulder bare. But then, she didn’t want a drably prim pink shirtwaist or a gaudy Aztec print sun dress, either. There was a floral print with a full skirt and dropped waist. It might do, although she really didn’t like the huge pink, mauve, and violet cabbage roses. Still, it was only $39.89.

She’d also realized she would need shoes, too, since neither her boots nor her dingy sneakers would do. Her $46.83 had seemed like a small fortune when she counted it at home, but it was shrinking fast. Maybe she’d better go check Wal-Mart. They were supposed to have good prices. She had to pass The Dress on her way out. She couldn’t resist a final look at it, just one last look. It was so perfect, so very wonderfully right.