Chapter 6
Jeff left them once the horses were put away. He wasn’t unpleasant, but rather abruptly claimed he had work to do elsewhere, and would see them later. Annette noticed he avoided further eye contact with her.
She wasn’t unhappy to hear he was leaving them on their own. Although it did mean she had to describe the past two hours to her sister. They made their way to the veranda and sat on a swinging bench covered with red cushions, rocking back and forth as they gazed across the verdant green of the landscape. The swing creaked gently, echoing the melody of their conversation.
After sharing with Gabrielle the tale of her flying leap, and the consequences of that hasty action, both women shared a laugh.
“I think he’s attracted to you,” Gabrielle noted, tapping her fingers on the arm rest. “I saw that look the two of you shared in the barn and…”
“Please don’t say any more,” Annette interrupted. “We’re barely tolerating one another, trust me. I don’t need you reading more into what there is.”
Gabrielle shrugged expressively, and made no further comment. They fell into a comfortable silence punctuated only by the happy chirping of birds and the hum of a fat bumble bee as it buzzed about the hanging baskets of brightly coloured petunias that swayed in a slight breeze. In front of them, the jagged, purple peaks of the Rocky Mountains sliced the clear blue sky like shards of opaque glass.
“I could sit here and stare at this scene all day,” Annette said presently. “But not today because I’m falling asleep. Do you want to walk with me?” She stood to her feet and stretched her arms above her head.
“I thought you’d never ask.” Gabrielle yawned. “I feel the same way. For me, jetlag is always worse the next day.”
They found a rocky path that led around the house to a huge garden. Although it was early in the growing season, and most of the produce was immature, Annette could make out a row of lettuce and another of green onions that were flourishing. When she was a child, growing up in Toulouse, her family had always had a garden. Of course, it was much smaller than this, but seeing it brought back memories of home. She wondered who worked the plot, since there wasn’t a weed in sight.
They spent the rest of the morning wandering around the yard, looking at flower beds, talking, and enjoying one another. While they were bending over an area of perennials, trying to decide what they were called, Sandra tapped on one of the massive floor-to-ceiling windows and beckoned them inside. She pointed to a side door and met them as they were kicking off their shoes.
“I’m not sure if you’ve worked up an appetite out there this morning, but lunch is ready,” she announced. A light dusting of flour graced the rolled-up sleeves of her lime green top. An apron covered everything else, apart from her legs from the knee down and a pair of sparkly red tennis shoes.
“Are those paillettes?” Annette asked in surprise, squinting at Sandra’s footwear as the woman swung around and marched in front of them. How had she not noticed these before? They were positively garish.
“Pie-ettes?” Sandra repeated. She stopped and looked around the room with a puzzled expression on her face. “Did they get in through the open door? For heaven’s sake, keep your eye on them and I’ll get the fly swatter.” She turned to rush away.
“Wait!” Gabrielle called with a laugh. “Paillettes aren’t alive. It’s the French word for sequins. I think Annette is asking about your shoes.”
“Oh,” Sandra rested a hand over her heart. “Well, that’s a relief. I mean, I’d never heard of such a creature as a pie-ette, but I was prepared to do battle with them.” She giggled, lifted a foot, and tilted it back and forth to catch the noon-day sun that streamed through the huge windows of the dining room. They got the full effect of the sequins.
“I ordered them from Amazon,” she exclaimed with pride. “I also have them in blue, pink, and silver. Sadly, the gold pair are on backorder. Beautiful, aren’t they?” She looked expectantly at the young women standing before her, waiting for words of praise.
Both of them nodded quickly. “They’re very…uh, glittery,” Annette observed. She stared at the shoes again, partly in disbelief at seeing this travesty of a fashion statement, and partly in admiration. This woman didn’t care what was being worn on the streets of New York, London, or Paris. She was content in her gaudy green track suit and sparkly red running shoes. But who was to say she was wrong? You couldn’t argue with happiness. And clearly these bright things made Sandra happy. Annette pondered this revelation as she took a seat across from her sister at the table.
They finished a light lunch, consisting of a delicious soup that Sandra called Pepperpot Chowder. Just as they went into raptures about her fluffy biscuits with butter, Jeff clomped through the swinging doors.
“Hey, Sandra,” he called to the woman, “sorry about my boots.” He had the grace to look behind him for a possible mess. “Could you make me something quick to bolt down? I just got a call from Matt. There’s a couple of calves lame in the far pasture. Looks like foot rot. I have to go treat them and then get down to the Triple T. Sophie sent me a text just as I was walking through the door.”
“Of course.” Sandra whirled about the kitchen.
“Sophie wrote you. Is something wrong?” Gabrielle queried, half rising from her chair.
Jeff flashed her a look. “Not sure, but I doubt it.” He lifted the battered black hat off his head and ran a sleeve over his brow. “She suggested I bring you two along. If you want to go?” He didn’t look overly pleased at the prospect though.
Annette was content to stay where she sat. Her body was really dragging, and she felt her eyelids getting heavy, yet again. The warm sun and the delicious meal were conspiring along with jetlag to put her to sleep. She looked at her sister, knowing Gabby well enough to realize she’d wanted to be at the Triple T Ranch ever since arriving the day before. Gabrielle was part of the Tremblay family, it was her husband’s boyhood home and she had been there many times before.
“Of course,” she said. “Let’s go.”
Sandra hurried from the kitchen, her shoes squeaking as she rounded the counter with a bundle of thick sandwiches she was busy stuffing into a paper bag, and two tall flasks that must have contained hot drinks. Extending them she said, “I made enough to share with whoever is at the Triple T. They’re only peanut butter and honey, but I didn’t have much notice.”
“That’s perfect.” Jeff accepted the items gratefully. “They’ll appreciate it. Thanks Sandra.”
“You’re welcome.” She whirled around, grabbed a travel mug off the counter and handed it to Annette. “Would you mind carrying it to the truck for him, dear?” She glanced to the wall where a large clock hung inside of an ancient looking wagon wheel. “I’ll have dinner ready to pop into the oven with instructions, but I’ll leave before that. Hubby got a little peevish last night when I got home so late. Although,” Sandra sighed, “he’s worried about Sophie just like the rest of us. He thinks maybe she should sell the ranch and take life easy.”
“She won’t,” said Gabrielle’s quiet voice. Grabbing her dishes, she walked into the kitchen to set them by the sink. “Sophie believes in the legacy of the family farm. She’ll kill ‘erself working to keep the ranch afloat before she’d sell. If all of these problems are really caused by someone trying to scare her off, then they don’t know ‘er very well.”
“That’s true,” said Jeff. He looked meaningfully at Annette. “Coming?”
She roused herself. “Oui.” Quickly she ran her dishes to the sink and followed Jeff and Gabrielle from the room.
She was expecting to clamber into the same, enormous black truck from the day before, but a much smaller and older truck sat in the driveway waiting for them. It was grey in colour and somewhat rusty.
“Will you drive, Gabrielle?” Jeff asked. “Then I can eat this bit of lunch before we get there.”
“Of course,” Gabrielle held out her hand and he dropped the keys in her palm.
Great. Now Annette would be forced to sit beside the man whether she liked it or not. And she didn’t like it at all. She wrenched at the passenger door, and it opened with a screech of protest. Scrambling inside with his mug tilting precariously, she slid across a hole in the pleather where a chunk of the foam filling was missing. Making herself as small as possible, she sat primly in the center of the one bench seat, hugging her knees tightly together. A large can of nails rattled at her feet and a thick layer of dust covered everything. She felt a sneeze coming on.
Jeff eased himself in beside her, sticking the bag of sandwiches on the floor under his feet. He wedged the two thermoses between them as he balanced his sandwich on a knee before hauling the door shut. Gabrielle put the keys in the ignition and the vehicle roared to life.
“Drive until I tell you where to turn,” Jeff mumbled, using his sandwich to gesture. Then he fell upon the bread with gusto.
Annette forced herself to imagine the paint colours she’d use if she were to capture this scene, rather than looking at the jeans-clad legs that were so close to hers. A tingle of awareness shivered up her spine. As long as he kept to his own side of the truck, it would be alright.
They rumbled down the drive on their way back to the main road, and their tires crunched onto thick gravel as they turned left at Jeff’s instruction. The road was not dusty today, due to the rain of the night before. He rolled down his window, and the pure scent of mountain air was invigorating. It ruffled through her thick ponytail of hair.
“Do you see that entrance on the left?” Jeff asked. He brushed crumbs from his lap and motioned for his drink. “Thanks. Okay, slow down a little because that’s the one we want.” Gabrielle signalled, although the road was deserted, turned, and stopped in front of the fence. Jeff handed Annette his coffee mug again and hopped out to open the gate. To her, it didn’t appear to be anything more than a few sticks and some barbed wire.
Waving her through, Jeff dragged the gate shut behind them and jumped back inside. Reaching for his coffee, he took a slurp and said, “Alright, just aim for the far corner of this field. Drive slow. It’s rough out here.”
He wasn’t joking. They’d only travelled a short distance when the front right tire dropped into a hole and bounced out again. The vehicle lurched, and so did Annette. Her body slammed into Jeff with such force that it almost knocked the wind out of her.
“You okay?” he probed gruffly, but made no attempt to help her straighten herself. “And don’t bother saying it, because I already know what you’re going to tell me—dess-oh-lay. Correct?”
She nodded, jamming her feet against the floor, and vowing to be prepared if it happened again. They lumbered on across the pasture. Most of the grass had been grazed low to the ground, but in some areas the tall, pale green fronds shivered in the breeze. They passed huge rocks occasionally. Otherwise, the land rolled on and on, like a great, green sea stretching into the distance until reaching the base of the mountains.
“Likely a badger made that hole,” he added conversationally. As they reached the summit of a hill, he pointed ahead and leaned forward to speak exclusively to Gabrielle. “See that bluff of trees down there?”
“Yes.”
“I want you to drive straight for it.” Jeff settled back in the seat and tipped the rest of the drink down his throat.
They bumped along in silence. It was getting hot in the cab of the truck with the sun’s heat bearing down on the roof. Gabrielle rolled her window down and rested her elbow on it. The sounds of the prairie came alive—the haunting cry of a hawk high overhead, the chirping of small birds flitting past, and eventually shrill, high-pitched whistling sounds.
“What’s that noise?” Annette asked.
“A noise?” He reared up, cocked his head to listen, and then looked at her questioningly. “Was it a knocking sound from up front, in the engine? Or that grinding sound when she put on the brakes? Or maybe it’s the chugging sound from underneath the carriage? I mean, the muffler does have a few holes in it I guess, but that’s to be expected with the kind of?—”
“No,” she interrupted sharply. “I’m not talking about your wretched truck. écouter!”
Jeff muttered indistinctly, “Wretched? My truck is wretched? It’s a perfectly good vehicle I’ll have you kn?—”
Gabrielle cut in. “You mean the whistles?” When Annette nodded, she laughed and went on. “Sorry Jeff, but my sister wouldn’t be referring to vehicle sounds. Those are gophers,” she explained. “At least that’s what Andrew calls them. See all those mounds of earth?”
“Oui.”
“Just watch and you’ll see the small, tan-coloured animals that made them.”
Annette did, and presently saw one of the gophers standing on top of his burrow to sniff the air. He flicked a little tail with a black tip and stared at them with wide, almond-shaped eyes. “Oh!” she said excitedly. “Isn’t he cute?”
“No.” Jeff growled with a glare. “He is not cute at all. Gophers are the reason we fell in a badger hole. Badgers dig gophers out and leave a huge mess behind that a cow or horse could step into and break their leg.” He fell into a stony silence.
“Then, isn’t it the badgers at fault, rather than the gophers?” she ventured.
But Jeff didn’t respond. His phone suddenly beeped, and he unfastened his shirt pocket to retrieve it.
“Yes…” he barked. There was a long pause, in which another man could be heard shouting over bawling cattle. “You’ve caught them? Great. We’re almost there.” He put his phone away.
The truck bounced along the last stretch of open land before the bluff of trees and now that they were closer, Annette saw a herd of white cattle huddled together near a corral. Two all-terrain vehicles were parked nearby.
As they pulled up along the fringes of the cattle, Gabrielle stopped, and Jeff slid out. He leaned into the bed of the truck and lifted out a green, rather beaten up, metal box only to disappear when he plunged into the stamping herd of animals. The herd had to be over one hundred cattle here. Inquisitive creatures that they were, the cows soon surrounded them. They pushed into one another with their huge heads, sniffed the truck, and a few even licked it with unbelievably long tongues. Annette was glad Jeff had left them in the safety of the vehicle.
“This gives you a real taste of ranch life, don’t you think?” Gabrielle draped herself over the wheel after having rolled the windows up most of the way to keep the interior of the cab from being inundated with cows. She turned off the engine and looked at Annette’s sour expression with amusement.
“Apart from the smell, yes. It’s interesting. I’ve always enjoyed learning how people live in other countries.” She raised her phone to snap a few pictures. “There are so many beautiful scenes to paint. How I wish I could.”
“You brought a sketchpad, didn’t you? Why don’t you take some time tomorrow and draw a little. Pencil drawings have always been a favourite of yours, right? So do it.”
“That’s true,” Annette reflected on the words of an instructor at the school of art where she’d just spent the last four years. He was an older man who wore shabby suits with greying hair that most often stood straight up from his head. Monsieur Moreau had squinted through heavy glasses at them on this particular day, after someone had made a disparaging statement concerning sketches. He had slammed a hand on his desk before proclaiming, “Artists have been using graphite pencils to draw with for centuries. Never discount the importance of sketching, for through it, the raw essence of your vision begins.”
Gabrielle was right. Somehow, she’d managed to slide a sketch book into her bag, along with a small selection of pencils. She would make a point to draw each day, so she could carry the images of this place back to Paris with her. But for now, she would capture as many images as she could with her phone.
“I’m moving,” Gabrielle announced and pushed the truck door open into the milling throng of white beasts. “Jeff will want to drive now.”
“Are you crazy?” Annette flung herself at her sister to stop her, but it was too late. Gabrielle was shimmying through the cattle, who shied away from this strange new person, and soon was climbing in the other side of the cab.
“Why did you do that? And how? All you had to do was ask me to slide over. Why don’t you sit in the middle? Please?” she asked in a wheedling tone.
“Sure, I don’t mind,” Gabrielle responded with an evil smile. “We’ll hop out with the cows, and you wait there with them while I get back in. Then you follow.”
Annette glared at her. It would have been so simple before her sister got out, and then she wouldn’t have been stuck sitting next to Jeff again. But no, it was obvious her sister was playing a bit at matchmaker.
She had just opened her mouth to complain again, when the cattle at the front of the truck parted and fell over themselves to move out of the way like the waves of the Red Sea. Through the opening came Jeff, still carrying his green box, but with a smudge of dirt on his cheek and grass stains on his knees. He flung the container into the back where it landed with a clatter, and climbed behind the wheel.
Flashing them a toothy grin, he started the engine and said, “That went better than expected. Matt had the calves all ready for me.” He reversed the truck slowly away from the herd and then they bumped back the way they’d come.
“What did you say was wrong with them?” Gabrielle asked. Annette gritted her teeth and braced herself against the floor. The bumping and jerking of the truck were worse since Jeff drove faster than Gabrielle.
“The calves have something called foot rot,” he began. Pushing his hat off his forehead, he draped an elbow out the window, and took a deep breath before continuing with his explanation. He expelled it in a gust of air as Annette spoke.
“?a a l”air horrible,” she muttered darkly.
“Hang on,” Jeff yelled suddenly, as he cranked the wheel to the left, dodging a gopher hill that had appeared in the long grass. Annette fell against him despite her best efforts not to, and in turn, Gabrielle fell against her. It took some time to pull themselves upright again. For a moment Annette clutched Jeff’s arm for support. His muscles felt as hard as cast iron.
“Sorry about that,” he said. “Now, could you repeat your statement—in English?”
“I said, that sounds horrible,” repeated Annette. “Does the animal’s foot actually rot away?”
“It is horrible,” he agreed. “Bacteria can easily enter a cut or abrasion if the animal steps on a stick or a sharp rock. It doesn’t take much. The infectious, decaying disease goes to work on destroying the tissues of the foot. We check the animals every day to watch for all sorts of problems, but this is a major one.”
“And what did you ‘ave in your green medical kit that would cure those animals?” Gabrielle interjected.
“Penicillin,” he replied without missing a beat.
The discussion was closed. As a comfortable silence fell inside the cab, Annette looked around with interest. They had looked upon the Rockies on the way in. Only now, facing the other direction, she could see the outbuildings of another massive farm set well back from the road on the opposite side. When Jeff stopped back at the fence line, she could see a discrete sign, nailed to two poles at the entrance, Danbury Farms.
“Can you drive it through for me?” Jeff asked, craning his head to look at her. She nodded mutely. However brief, those few seconds where his big brown eyes had captured hers had left her a bit tongue-tied.
“Thanks,” he said. “Not everyone is cut out to drive such wretchedness.” With a squeal he shoved open the door, got out, and strode in front of the truck to unfasten the gate and haul it out of her way. Flushing with embarrassment, Annette slid behind the wheel, put it in gear, and rolled through. As she passed him, he tipped his hat and grinned at her.
Annette giggled and Gabrielle raised questioning eyebrows. Thankfully, he had a sense of humour. She hadn’t meant to call his truck names, but she’d heard someone use that particular word in an American movie once and it had stuck in her head.
“Is that the Danbury you mentioned before? The one who made Sophie an offer?” Gabrielle queried when Jeff got back in and resumed driving.
“Yep. He’s not well-liked, but I think he’s honest enough. Jim and his son have a pretty big ranch and they’re always looking to buy more land.”
“Is it not reasonable to think that they might ‘ave something to do with the troubles at Sophie’s?” Gabrielle flipped her long black braid over her shoulder and sighed. “I realize I’m an outsider. I don’t know the people around ‘ere like you do, but someone is at the bottom of this. And if this man is buying up land, it makes sense he’d want ‘ers. It’s next door. So, why not ‘im?”
“He’d have a lot to gain if she were scared off or ended up in financial trouble and was forced to sell,” added Annette. “She might even sell cheap.”
Jeff ran a hand back and forth across his chin, the day’s growth of black beard making a scratchy noise. “I agree,” he conceded. “And those two are shifty, there’s no doubt about it. But would they stoop to such depths? Old Sam Danbury, Jim’s dad, was good friends with Malcom’s folks. And mine too for that matter. He was hard as nails, but he was a good man. I just can’t imagine his son would go so far wrong.”
Gabrielle slumped in her seat and lifted a hand to push a strand of hair from her face. “But it’s possible,” she said quietly.