Chapter 8

Enid Rocklin sat on the porch and stared out at sheep. She was bored. She was always bored up in the high meadows. The flat space that grew such lush grass was surrounded on most sides by mountains, some of which still had patches of white clinging to them. Enid wondered for maybe the hundredth time what it would be like to look out at the world from way up there where the snows still sat. But that would take time away from tending sheep ... too much time according to her father, who had snorted when she asked to go up there one time. He had laughed and said there were mountain lions up there that would make a quick snack of her. Why was it that men - her mother had applauded the idea - why was it that men all thought that just because you were female and had bumps on your chest that you couldn’t do anything?

She stared at the mountains. Maybe if she took someone with her, her father would let her go some day. That thought led to who she could get to go with her and, suddenly, the image of Frank Collins was in her mind. She blinked. She didn’t know what to think about Frank Collins. He was a boy, and usually that didn’t get you anywhere at all with Enid Rocklin. Boys were a pain in the behind. But something about him wasn’t so ... so ... so whatever it was that made her want to kick boys in the shins. She hadn’t been around any boys since they’d left Oregon. Well, there was Bobby, but he was a pain in the behind too, always lording it over her because she was younger than him.

Frank was different somehow. She remembered seeing him on that big horse that pranced and ran and bucked a little. And Frank had sat there like he was glued to the saddle. She knew what it took to ride like that. Her father still sometimes almost fell off a horse when it moved suddenly. Beth rode, but carefully, like she was afraid of breaking the horse ... or herself. Her mamma had taught Enid to ride while the men were off with the sheep. And her mamma could ride like a cowboy too.

She closed her eyes and remembered looking up at Frank while he sat on his horse talking to her mother. She had rolled in the dirt in front of him, to capture that stupid puppy. She hadn’t thought a thing about it until she stood up, dusty and with grass clinging to her buckskins. He had been looking at her like she was strange. Normally she’d have stuck out her tongue at him, but for some reason she was unhappy that he’d seen her like that.

She remembered running to lead him to pappa, and how she had felt like a deer being chased by a hunter. When she’d fallen she reacted automatically in a move that Xian Bai had taught her while they wrestled. He had taught her a lot of things that only Chinamen seemed to know. He could use that six foot long staff of his to keep a wolf at bay and even kill it, with whirling lightning strikes that were so fast the eye couldn’t follow them. Seeing him do that one time had left her feeling weak, with a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach. She had thought it was just fear. Wolves usually didn’t come near people.

But seeing her father preparing to shoot Frank had made her feel the same way, and the feeling had continued as the boy rode up full tilt and demanded to be shown the tracks that might lead him to his mother.

And he’d gone off to find her too! All alone, and so young! Well, he was only a year older than her ... but would she do that?

She nodded to nobody. Buster ran up to her, trailed by two puppies, to check in. Enid gave the dogs some loving and sent them back out. The puppies were growing up and learning their trade. She had called them stupid, but they weren’t. They were proving they were just as smart as their parents. Sometimes she felt like a puppy. Her mind drifted back to Frank. He made her feel like a puppy.

She remembered kissing him. She hadn’t meant to, but the urge had been overpowering for some reason. She remembered riding way too fast away from him, the taste of his lips on hers, slightly salty. She had been astonished that she’d done that. Kissing a boy?

She couldn’t believe she had told him she wanted another kiss.

Yet right now she wished she could kiss him again. That was silly. Her pappa kissed her mamma a lot... much more than was necessary to tell her he loved her. He loved Enid - she knew that deep in her bones - but he didn’t kiss her like she was thinking of kissing Frank Collins. He kissed her mamma like she was thinking of kissing Frank Collins. She felt suddenly hot. Her nipples itched and she scratched at them. It felt good.

Her whole body felt hot and she thought about taking off her clothes. She got up to go inside, out of the sun.

Frank walked his horse up the trail. He was going to be in so much trouble when he got back. He was going to be in so much trouble he had no idea in the world what his punishment would be.

Trying to find something more pleasant to think about he thought about where he was going. They’d be happy to hear that their son was all right. And maybe he’d get to see that girl again. What was her name? Enid. Yes, that was it. The strange girl with a strange name. He hadn’t met many girls, and for sure he’d never met one like her. She ran like an antelope, easy and with long ground eating strides. And her chest. He thought about her chest and his eyes went out of focus. He knew just a little bit about breasts. His mother hugged him sometimes, and pressed hers against him. He noticed that, when his mother was dressed and hugged him, it felt completely different than when she was in her nightgown and hugged him good night. Then her breasts felt soft and warm and squishy.

And Sarah hugged him too, once in a while, pressing her smaller ones against him. He’d seen Sarah’s, when they were younger and bathed together. He’d seen the bumps begin to grow on her flat chest and about that time they didn’t take baths together any more. But one time they had been taking lunch to the men, out at the herd, and on the way back they’d stopped at the big pond to swim. It had been years since he’d seen her naked, and she only took off her clothes down to her shift, but when it got wet he could see clear through it. Her bumps had turned into huge lumps with things on the end that must be just like his own, which stood out whenever it was cool. She had splashed water at him for looking, but hadn’t gotten mad.

Enid’s breasts were bigger than Sarah’s, though not so big as his mother’s. And she had had those bumps on the tips of her breasts too ... sticking out through the leather she had been wearing. He remembered her upper chest, covered with freckles, and wondered if her breasts were covered with them too. He liked the freckles across her nose and under her eyes. They made her look like she was smiling or something.

The last time he’d seen those freckles they had been inches from his eyes as she had kissed him. Just like that her face had come close and her lips had touched his, astonishing him. It had been over so quickly, and then she had turned and galloped off and his stomach had hurt for some reason.

He saw the tree branch in front of his face with only the instant’s time it took to lean sideways and back in the saddle to miss getting it in his face. He looked around. Thinking about a girl could get you in trouble.

But there was no trouble on the trail. His horse was completely comfortable, plodding along. His mind drifted back to Enid. He couldn’t stop thinking about her.

Frank walked his horse around a pile of boulders and saw good, tall grass spread out before him. He was astonished at how vast the high meadows were. He saw the line shack in the distance. There was smoke coming from the chimney, and a horse grazing outside the shack, but he didn’t see the wagon. He was greeted almost immediately by a barking trio of dogs. The largest was the dog he knew was named Buster. The puppy named Zeke and one other pup about the same age were with him. Once Buster had sniffed at him, he bounded off toward where Frank could barely see the backs of a large number of sheep that grazed in small groups. Buster seemed to just run around between these groups, followed by the puppies.

He looked up and saw that someone had stepped out of the shack. He felt a little jolt run through his body as he realized it was Enid. She had a rifle in her hands.

He rode ahead and felt his heart thumping in his chest. He smiled, admitting to himself that he was excited to see the girl again.

This time he didn’t have the safety of his mother and sister to distract him, and as he rode up and saw her smiling face, he felt his groin tighten. She was dressed as before, in leather, and again he couldn’t seem to make his eyes leave her chest.

“Well if it isn’t mister big, strong cowboy,” said Enid. “I thought you were off chasing your mamma.”

Frank flushed at her obvious implication that he was just a little boy. In any other situation he probably would have responded with anger. But there wasn’t derision in her voice.

Rather there was a familiar teasing tone that suggested she didn’t actually think he was a little boy at all.

“I found them,” he said simply. “Your brother is fine.”

Enid was shocked. Part of her - the girl part - did think of this young man as just a boy, out on a lark, trying to show the world what a man he was. Another part of her - the woman part - saw him as that man already, strong and skilled, and able to take care of himself and those he loved. Standing over Chaps’ body he had been strong and calm, while she wanted to throw up. The fact that he was successful in his pursuits tipped the scales toward that part of her who saw him as a man.

She stared at him, strange feelings going through her body. She realized that her breasts felt tingly, where the leather caressed them. It was a nice feeling, like when she was riding hard and her breasts moved around under that leather. She realized he was staring at the very part of her she was thinking about. In most situations that would have made her mad. She realized she liked it when he looked at her though. Still, she was glad she hadn’t gotten naked.

“Aren’t you going to get down?” she asked.

“I just came to tell your parents that your brother is fine, and that I found my sister and mother,” he said.

“That was nice. Where are they?” Enid asked, making exaggerated movements to look around him at someone.

“Your brother is taking them back to our ranch,” said Frank, feeling uncomfortable for some reason.

Enid’s mouth fell open. “What? Why would he do that?” She looked at him. “Why didn’t you do that?”

Frank looked up at the sky, which was dark blue and full of fluffy white clouds. “Well ... my mamma ... my mother ... said that he had saved them, and that it was his right to return them.”

Enid thought of Bobby as most sisters think of their brothers - as a pain in the behind. She was shocked at the idea that her brother could save anybody from anything. “You need to get down off that horse and tell me what happened.”

“Go get your parents,” said Frank somewhat crossly. “I don’t want to have to tell this story more than once.”

“They’re not here. They went back to get the rest of the flock and trail them up here,” said Enid.

Frank blinked. “They left you here alone?” he asked, astonishment in his voice.

Enid bristled. “I’m not alone. I have Buster and Zeke and Paps with me. I also have this!” she held up the Winchester in her hands. “I can take care of myself just fine mister big, strong cowboy!”

Frank felt unhappy that that tone was back in her voice.

His reflections on her as he rode up here hadn’t included that tone of voice. He remembered it now. He liked it a lot more when she was less acid. “I’m sorry. It’s just that you’re...”

“A girl?” she finished for him. There was the hint of danger in her voice.

“No!” he said hurriedly. “You’re just young ... that’s all.”

“I’m fourteen,” she said proudly, sticking her chest out.

Frank almost groaned as she did that. “You can’t be much older yourself, mister big, strong cowboy,” she said.

“Would you please stop calling me that?” he asked plaintively. “My name is Frank, and yes, I’m fifteen.” He was having a hard time thinking about what he wanted to say ... and how to say it.

“Well, if you want to live to be sixteen, you get down off that horse and tell me about my brother. You can’t be talking about Bobby. He’s so stupid he couldn’t save a lamb from falling in a hole.”

Enid’s obviously juvenile reaction to the idea that her brother ... who appeared to be about the same age as he was ... caused Frank to want to smile. He felt the urge to needle this disturbing girl a little.

He got down and, like many in the West, couldn’t resist making the story just a little bit better than the mere truth of things. He began to spin a tale of heroics, and fighting Indians, and battling storms. He thought about throwing some outlaws in there for good measure, but decided that was going too far. By the end of his tale Bobby had fought and killed five or six grown men and Frank’s sister Sarah was pining over him. He told that part without thinking much about it and it was only after that that he realized he had suggested there was a romance between a sheep herder’s son, and a cow rancher’s daughter. It was that thought that cut his voice off as if with a knife.