Chapter 12

Whether Rowdy spoke to Crystal, or whether she just took her job seriously, Bob never got the chance to book Brenda’s next visit. Crystal pre-empted him by calling the Ronsons and setting it up herself, a week hence. She didn’t tell Bob about it until the day before it was scheduled. Nobody said much of anything to him during that week. He was like an injured bear.

“You did what?!“ he yelled.

Crystal stood firm, her shoulders back, and her fabulous breasts thrust at him, like they were a defense of some kind.

“You said she was welcome any time,” she reminded him. “I did my job, Mr. Nivens!”

Her formal response took the wind out of Bob’s sails. He couldn’t be mad at her. She did, after all, just do her job. He felt panic in his gut. He knew what Brenda would want to do when she came back. He was quite aware that he wanted to pick up where they left off too.

That was the problem.

He saddled up Ranger and went for a ride. He’d been gone for maybe an hour when he heard hoof beats behind him. It was Rowdy.

The old foreman pulled up, facing him.

“You need to go see Greasy Face,” he said. He said nothing else.

“Why?” asked Bob. He knew why, but he was being stubborn about it.

“You know why,” said Rowdy. “If she’s still got a hold on you, then talk to her.”

“You don’t believe in that stuff,” said Bob. “He’s got half the people in this county spooked, but you’re not one of them.”

“I don’t know what to believe,” said Rowdy calmly. “Go see him.”

Rowdy’s horse reared, turned, and was off at a gallop before Bob could say anything else.

Bob rode another hour, and thought about Greasy Face. Greasy Face was a Native American, and he was old when Bob was a kid. Bob had been fascinated with him as he grew up, and spent as much time with the old Indian as he could. That wasn’t much, because Greasy Face was a ranch hand at the Lazy N, and, even though he had to be in his seventies, he did the same kind of work as all the other ranch hands. According to Bob’s dad, the Indian had showed up on foot one day, saying he was there for a job. He’d been as old as Rowdy was now, even then, though nobody knew his actual age. When Bob’s dad had told him about this, he’d had a far off look in his eyes. “He told me he was supposed to work here.”

“What did that mean, Daddy?” asked young Bob.

“Hell if I know,” his father had answered. “But something told me to give him a job. I did, and he’s one of the best there is.”

Bob, over the years, had learned that Greasy face was from the Wind River reservation, and a member of the Forks-of-the-River Men tribe, part of the Arapaho nation. It eventually came out that he had been a Medicine Man of the tribe, but he said he had “retired” to make way for a younger man to take his place. It was common knowledge, among the cowboys on the ranch, and not a few people from other ranches, that Greasy Face could see things about people, like when they were sick, even before they knew it. It was also widely believed that he could talk to the spirits. Bob had heard some tales about Greasy Face that had made the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

He’d thought about going to Greasy Face when Dannie had died. To be honest, he was afraid to do so. On the one hand, he was afraid that the old man couldn’t do what was claimed. On the other hand ... he was afraid that maybe he could.

Both fears resurfaced as Bob rode that day. What if he could talk to Dannie, through the old man? What would she say? Would she rail at him for what he’d already done with the girl? Would she curse him? And what if nothing happened at all. What if he got his hopes up, only to have them dashed? He’d already been through nine months of pure agony, with a three day respite, of sorts, while he was with Brenda. That, too, had turned into agony, first when he was sure she’d die, and now, again, when he found out maybe she wouldn’t.

He didn’t know what to do.

He still didn’t know what to do when the car pulled up and parked outside.

When she got out, she looked the same ... and completely different.

She had the same slim legs ... same gorgeous smile ... same hourglass shape ... same bald head. She looked different in ways he couldn’t quite put his finger on. That she had on a sundress, instead of jeans and a shirt, was obvious. That she wasn’t wearing a wig, was obvious too. She looked healthy, he decided. He hadn’t noticed, before, because he had nothing to compare it to, but now, stepping into the sun, she looked vibrantly, gloriously healthy. Her skin didn’t look so pale any more.

When she saw him, she walked sedately towards him. As she got closer he realized she wasn’t actually bald any more. Almost transparent blond hair sprouted all over her head, mimicking the darker almost inch long fuzz that he sported under his hat. Bob saw her parents get out of the car as she came up to stand in front of him. The first thing she did was reach up and take his hat off.

“Good,” she breathed a long sigh. “I was afraid you’d kept it shaved. I worked hard to grow this,” she said, rubbing her head and smiling. “I didn’t want to have to shave it off to be like you.”

Bob noticed that just about everybody who wasn’t out on a job assignment was there to meet this family. Even Greasy Face was there, standing beside Rowdy. Dammit ran up and sat down beside Brenda, wagging her tail. The girl bent her knees gracefully and scratched behind both ears.

“I’m happy to see you too,” she said to the dog.

Bob felt like he was going to throw up. He felt like running. He thought he might pee his pants. The feelings that flooded him were even stronger than he’d been afraid they’d be. He felt like he was ten years old again.

She stood back up.

“Hi,” she said, putting his hat back on him. “Thank you for inviting me back.”

“Uh...” Bob choked.

“I’m still sick,” she said. “I mean the tumor is still there.” She looked over at her parents. “It got smaller, but it’s still there. They think it was something from here that did that.”

Bob just stared at her. He was so overwhelmed by her mere presence that he couldn’t function.

“You’re not very talkative today,” said the girl, cocking her head and staring at him.

“I don’t ... feel too good,” Bob whimpered.

“Well, go get some rest or something,” she said. “I want to go for another ride.” She pursed her lips and made a kissing sound. The look of invitation in her eyes was as loud as a shout. Then, she turned, and walked back toward her parents. Her father was taking a suitcase out of the trunk of the car. Linda said something to Brenda as they passed each other, and walked over to Bob.

“Thank you, again,” she said, as she approached Bob. “Dave and I can’t stay long, but there was something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Talking to Linda wasn’t as terrifying as talking to Brenda, and Bob managed to make the appropriate sounds. “What’s that?” he asked.

The woman looked over her shoulder. “I think she has a little crush on you.”

Bob’s stomach, which had just begun floating back up to where it normally was, sank again.

“You do?”

“All she’s wanted to do since we took her home is come back here,” said Linda, looking at Bob’s strained face oddly. She tilted her head the same way her daughter had. “She’s done everything the doctors ask her to. They keep doing all these tests on her, and she puts up with all that just fine, but she keeps talking about the ranch, and the dog ... and you. I think she had a very good time when she was here.” The woman looked shrewdly at the pale man in front of her. “A very good time.”

“I tried,” said Bob, meaning he’d tried to resist the girl’s seduction. He had decided, in his mind, out of pure emotional self defense, that he had been seduced. He knew that wasn’t likely. Young, virginal girls just don’t go out and seduce the first cowboy they spend a day or two with. But he had been, for the most part, helpless when she wanted to explore the new feelings that riding had brought her.

“You succeeded,” said Linda. “There’s one other thing,” she said.

Bob felt the axe coming. They had found out he had molested their little girl. He was sure of it. If he’d have been thinking more clearly, he’d have realized that couldn’t be it. They wouldn’t have brought her back if they knew. But he wasn’t thinking clearly. He hadn’t though clearly since the second day of their ride together.

“You never sent us a bill for the trip,” said Linda.

“I didn’t?” asked Bob. He hadn’t even thought about that aspect of things. Crystal handled all the bookings and billing.

“No,” she said. “We’re supposed to turn it in to the Foundation, and they’ve been asking for it.”

“I’ll ... um ... talk to Crystal about it,” said Bob.

“Thank you,” said Linda. “We’re going to get her settled in. Crystal said she can stay a whole week. She didn’t know what the itinerary was going to be, but she doesn’t really care. She just wants to be here. I’m a little worried about the crush. I’d like to ask you to be gentle with her.”

“Gentle?” Bob almost whispered.

“You know how these crushes are. I don’t want her to end up getting hurt ... or anything. If you can, I’d appreciate it if you’d let her down gently.”

“Gently,” muttered Bob.

“Are you all right?” asked Linda, concern in her voice.

“I’ve ... uh ... got a lot on my mind ... that’s all.” He tried to get control over himself. “Why don’t you get her settled in. I didn’t actually talk to Crystal about what we’re going to do while she’s here. I have something I have to take care of, and then I’ll be back.”

He turned around and walked away. He went to the barn, but he didn’t have anything to do there. He was, in truth, just trying to separate himself from the emotional storm that had just arrived at the ranch. It was Brenda who had brought that storm, but her mother was wrong. It wasn’t Brenda who was in danger. It was Bob. He recognized what he had felt instantly, as soon as she smiled at him. He was a twenty-seven-year-old man, in love with a sixteen year old girl, who might live to be seventeen ... and might not.

Phillip, Crystal’s son, came out of a stall.

“You need something, boss?” he asked, his voice piping. He called Bob “boss”, like all the cowboys did. “You taking Ranger out for a ride? I can get him ready, if you want.”

“No,” said Bob. “I’m just thinking.”

“I never thought of coming to the barn, just to think,” said the boy.

“I guess I never did either,” said Bob. “It’s quiet here, I guess.”

The boy lit up. “Greasy Face is teaching me to met...” He screwed up his face as he tried to remember the word. “metiat, or something like that,” he went on. “That’s thinking about stuff, except that you aren’t supposed to actually think about anything.” Phillip was in just as much awe over Greasy Face as Bob had been when he was the same age.

“Meditate,” said Bob.

“Yeah! That’s it,” said Phillip happily. “It’s hard! He’s going to give me another lesson today. It’s his day off.”

“You listen to everything Greasy Face tells you,” said Bob. “He’s a very smart man.”

“I know!” said Phillip excitedly. “He tells the best stories too!”

“You go on now,” said Bob. “Get your chores done so you can play.”

“Yes sir, Boss,” said the boy, sticking his chest out. He turned and went for the oat bucket at a run.

Bob watched him go. The interlude had helped him calm down. It had also reminded him of Rowdy’s insistence that he talk to Greasy Face, about all this. He thought. If it was the old Indian’s day off, he’d likely be down at the bunkhouse.

He turned toward the other end of the barn, beyond which the bunkhouse lay. He had to stop and talk to his horse, who was restive. He’d thought about taking a ride, but he left the horse there. He had to get this done.

Greasy face was sitting on the porch of the bunkhouse, braiding a rope. Greasy Face made all his own rope, turning up his nose at the modern stuff. Just seeing the old man had a calming effect on Bob. He had spent countless hours, sitting and riding with the man when he was younger. The old man’s familiar countenance, and the pure normalcy of what he was doing, gave Bob some control back, and he took a deep breath. The old Indian looked up when Bob’s shadow crossed his feet.

“heebe neneeceeb” said the wrinkled dark face. Bob knew that was Arapaho for “Hello, boss”.

“heebe neiteh’ei” Bob said back, returning the greeting and calling the man his friend.

“What brings you to see an old man today?” asked Greasy Face.

“Can’t a man come see a friend?”

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