Part 8 (2/2)

I brushed at my arms as though cobwebs touched my skin. For a moment I thought of flinging aside dusty velvet draperies, throwing open the French windows to air and sunlight -but I didn't dare. I remembered the funeral wreath hung on my door, and I was afraid.

Why shouldn't my father rest in peace? What had those words meant?

Yet I couldn't leave at once. A pedestal table, probably rosewood under the dust, held a large shallow box, mahogany-dark. Here again the dust had been disturbed, and there was a smudging of fingerprints over the surface. The box drew me and I touched its lid. It was as though I had touched hot metal, and almost of their own accord my fingers drew back.

This box I knew.

Once more the beating, tremulous feeling of dread began to io8 spin inside me. If had started again-that movement toward danger that could be halted only if I almost stopped breathing, nearly stopped living-let everything go blankly away from me. Always at such times I had an instinctive dread that my heart might stop forever out of fear and this was the instant when everything would end. Yet there was no dazzle of light being struck from anything here except the dusty chandelier over my head. There was only this smudged box that almost seemed to pulse with a life of its own under my fingers.

The wave engulfed me, though I tried to fight it, tried to resist. I must get to Hillary. I must find him at once. In my present world only Hillary stood for health and confidence and an ability to face life as a whole person. Only he could help me. He must take me away from this place, help me to escape.

I ran into a hallway that seemed to stretch endlessly toward the front of the house and started down it. From the far end the sound of voices came to me-someone laughing. That was Hillary's unmistakable laughter-a lovely, mesmerizing sound that could charm any audience. Eagerly I ran down the hall to the open door of the front parlor. And saw them there. Gail and Hillary standing before a window, talking together. They had clearly just met, yet Hillary's charm was already working.

I stopped for a moment, my headlong rush halted, deflected. Slowly the spinning top in my head began to lose velocity.

Gail had tied a crimson scarf at the neck of her denim jacket, to match the ribbon that held back her hair, and she looked bright and interested. Hillary, who always wore the right, if slightly theatrical, clothes for any occasion, looked more like a dude in studded jacket and doeskin pants. All this registered superficially as the deep need in me fell away and left me standing alone. As always, he had met and captivated, and I knew I must allow him that. It was like breathing for Hillary.

109.

Both of them heard me at the same moment and turned to look at me in surprise.

Gail said, ”How dusty you are! But of course-you must have gone into the back parlor. I thought you might want to. I got the key and unlocked the room for you.”

I put one grimy hand against the doorjamb beside me and steadied myself. The need to run to Hillary had evaporated, but at least I had been spared any blanking out this time. I was all right again. If Gail had unlocked that door for me, it had been done in malice and I would not let her see the effect the room had had on me.

”Do we meet the fire-breathing old dragon this morning?” Hillary asked, coming toward me. Then his look changed. I couldn't fool him, I never could. People were the raw material of his trade, and he looked at them more searchingly than most. He pulled me into his arms and held me.

”Easy now, Laurie. If you've begun to remember, let it all come through. Give it s.p.a.ce-let it come!”

I pushed away from him. ”No! Not yet. That room is a terrible place. I don't want to talk about it.”

He let me go. ”All right. Don't upset yourself. I won't ask questions until you feel like talking. Gail tells me we can ride over to the mountain this morning, if you like. It might be a good idea, honey. You can get out into the air and shake off the cobwebs.”

Cobwebs! Literally they had been there in that roomhundreds of them, thick and gray, and somehow evil.

”Yes,” I said. ”Yes, I'd like that. Anything to get away, to escape the nearness of that room.”

”Then let's go down to the stable and saddle up,” Gail said cheerfully. ”You do look a bit pale, Laurie. Some of our Colorado suns.h.i.+ne will do you good.”

”I'll clean up and change to jeans,” I told her, and moved out of Hillary's arms, resisting his concern that I'd wanted so no desperately a moment before. Whatever it was had pa.s.sed, and I felt braced again and ready to go on, even though a little numb. Later when we were alone, I would tell Hillary everyj I thing. But I couldn't talk now in front of Gail Cullen. That she was curious was clear, but I didn't mean to satisfy her curiosity.

I ran upstairs and changed quickly into jeans and low boots, pulled on my suede jacket. I mustn't think of that room now. Perhaps there was only one person I could really talk about it with. Persis Morgan.

When I was dressed I started for the top of the stairs and then hesitated. This morning an effort had been made to discourage me from seeing Persis, and I felt uneasy about her. I wondered if she really hadn't wanted me to come to her.

Downstairs Gail was still talking with Hillary and I could hear their voices. I ran quickly up to Persis' room.

The door stood open and I went in. Her breakfast tray rested on a table near her bed, food untouched, coffee cooling. Persis lay with her eyes closed, and her breathing was deep and regular. On the far side of the bed Caleb sat in lonely vigil, his head bent and a hand s.h.i.+elding his eyes.

I spoke to him softly. ”Is she all right?”

He looked up, startled, then rose to his feet. ”She's asleep. Miss Cullen gave her a sedative.”

”Does she have a doctor who sees her regularly? Does he approve of Miss Cullen?”

His expression told me that I was interfering. ”Certainly she has a doctor. It was he who recommended Miss Cullen. Believe me, it's very difficult to find a nurse who will stay in Jasper. We're fortunate to have her here.”

I wanted to remark that much of the time he didn't seem to like or approve of the nurse, but I asked a question instead.

”Why did she want to come here?”

”She was looking for private work, and she asked Dr. Burton Ill if he knew of a place. We were desperate for capable help after Belle Durant left. Belle isn't a nurse, but she had all the other qualifications.”

”Belle Durant worked here?” This was surprising news.

Clearly Caleb had endured enough of my questioning. ”Please. Another time. We mustn't disturb her.”

I didn't think the woman on the bed could be easily disturbed. Her almost colorless lashes lay on her cheeks, and when her eyes were closed there seemed no life in her face. I could easily believe, looking at her, that she might be slowly giving up her grasp on living. Guilt was suddenly sharp in my mind. Had she given up entirely after talking with me? But there was nothing I could do for her right now, and I must see Domino. The very fact that both Caleb and Persis had tried to discourage me from going there made it all the more important for me to see it for myself.

”I'm going to ride up the valley with Hillary and Gail Cullen,” I told Caleb, and went quickly out of the room, lest he protest again.

They were waiting for me downstairs, and I took Jon's borrowed sweater from the rack to return it to him.

When we reached the barn I found Red tied up and eager for release, though Jon wasn't about. A young boy who he]ped him around the place and answered to Gail's summons of ”Sam!” came to a.s.sist with the saddling.- I hung Jon's sweater on a hook and asked if it was all right for Red to run loose. Sam said, ”It's okay when the gates aren't being used,” and I let him free.

Gail was looking over the horses. ”Jon has taken Sundance, apparently. You'd have liked him, Mr. Lange. Plenty of spirit, but a good disposition. Anyway, you can ride North Star-he'll do fine. Baby Doe should be right for you, Laurie. I don't cuppose you've ridden all that much since you left the ranch.”

I felt more than a little resentful of her easy familiarity. She 112.

seemed altogether too much at home on my grandmother's property.

Baby Doe, with her name rooted in Colorado history, was a gentle chestnut creature who took to me at once, and I felt no need to explain to Gail that I had always ridden. I stroked her nose and talked to her for a moment. Then I swung into the western saddle, with its high pommel that I'd always liked.

With a.s.surance Gail turned Silver King, the handsome palomino she'd chosen, and started up the valley.

Red followed us to the gate, where Sam held him back and closed it after us. At first we rode three abreast up the wide valley, with Old Desolate rising straight ahead and lesser mountains following on either side, their slopes thickly wooded. These were the trees that would go if Ingram had his way.

Before long I began to drop back a little because I wanted no intrusion on this spell of mountains and rocky meadow. Something was pulling me, as it had ever since I'd determined to return to Colorado. Not the back parlor I had stepped into a little while ago, or the past that I must still discover. Something else-something that waited, knowing I would come. Strange and compelling, this feeling in me.

All about, wild flowers grew abundantly, clear to the edge of the pine forest. Their names came back to me out of memory, and a man's voice seemed to be repeating them to me. There was wild yellow parsley and mountain lupine-the bluebonnet of these higher elevations. And of course the lovely lavender and white Colorado columbine. Beside us a stream ran part of the way before it took a downhill course where the mountains parted. In the open fields, strewn with rocks, grew tall blue aspen daisies, and I seemed to remember them with their narrow lavender petals and yellow hearts. I let Baby Doe drop still farther behind the other two so that I could savor everything I saw and breathe deeply of this heady mountain air.

Every color seemed intensified in the clear light, so that ”3.

beauty grew almost too painfully sharp to bear. Some of this I remembered dimly-riding up the valley through meadow and woods, with that glorious mountain coming always closer, pulling me toward its height.

Along a rocky shoulder as we began the ascent grew a stand of tall spruce trees. Now Gail rode ahead, leading the var on her golden, silver-maned beauty, and Hillary dropped bade just behind me. I was glad for single file. I wanted only to see and feel, and not talk to anyone. For a little while this was surcease, and Hillary seemed to understand my need, not intruding upon me.

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