Palomino (1981) Read online

  Do you miss all that still? What she meant was Do you still miss your husband? and Samantha's eyes were suddenly sad as she asked. It was as though she needed to know for herself how long it would go on.

  No. Caroline answered the question gently. I'm not sure I ever really did, not after the beginning. Oddly enough, this was always more my style. For a long time I didn't know that, but I discovered that once I came here. I've always been happy here, Samantha. It's the right place for me to be.

  I know. I've always sensed that about you. She envied her. Sam had not yet found her own place. All she had was the apartment she had shared with John Taylor. There was nothing that was exclusively Sam's.

  Do you miss New York terribly, Sam?

  Sam shook her head slowly. No, not New York. Some of my friends. My friend Charlie and his wife, Melinda, and their three little boys. One of them is my godson. She felt suddenly lonely and bereft as she said it, homesick for the people she had left behind. And my boss maybe, Harvey Maxwell. He's the creative director at CHL. He's been like a father to me. I suppose I miss him too. And then, as she said the words, she felt a wave of loneliness overtake her as she thought of John again and this first Christmas without him. Involuntarily her eyes suddenly filled with tears and she looked away, but Caroline saw them and gently reached out and took her hand.

  It's all right. I understand.' She reached out and pulled Samantha to her. I remember what it was like when I first lost my husband. That was a very difficult year for me too. And then after a moment, But it gets better. Just give it time. Sam only nodded, and her shoulders shook gently as she bowed her head on Aunt Caro's delicate shoulder, and then a moment later she sniffed and pulled away.

  I'm sorry. She smiled in embarrassment through her tears. How maudlin. I don't know why that happened.

  Because it's Christmas and you were married to him for all those years. It's perfectly normal, you know, Sam. For God's sake, what do you expect? But again, as she sat there, as she had been a thousand times since she'd heard that John had left Sam, Caroline was outraged at what he had done. How could he leave this perfectly exquisite young woman for that cold little bitch that she had stealthily watched on TV the other night, trying to understand what had happened, trying to see some reason why he had chosen her instead of Sam. The only reason she could see was the baby, but that hardly seemed a reason to go totally crazy and leave a woman like Sam. Nonetheless he had done it, however little she understood what he had done. Are you going over to help decorate the tree?

  Sam nodded and smiled valiantly again. I also promised to bake cookies, but you may be sorry about that. The men I've been working with all tease me that any woman who can ride the way I do probably can't cook. And the worst of it is that they're right. They both laughed and Sam gently kissed Aunt Caro and then held her close one more time. Thank you. It was a fierce whisper.

  For what? Don't be silly.

  For being my friend. She let go of the older woman then, and when she did, there were tears in Caroline's eyes as well.

  Foolish woman. Don't ever thank me for being your friend! Or I won't be! She tried to look angry but couldn't, and then shooed Sam out the door to go decorate the tree. A half an hour later Sam was in the main dining hall, perched on a tall ladder, hanging silver and green and red and blue and yellow baubles on the tree. There were small children working on the lower branches, and tiny ones hanging up little paper ornaments they'd made. There was an older group stringing popcorn and cranberries together, and a circle of men and women choosing ornaments and making as much noise, or more, as their kids. It was a large and happy congregation, with women circulating large bowls of popcorn, platters of brownies, boxes of cookies, all made on the ranch or sent from back home. There were people working everywhere in the best of the Christmas spirit, even Tate Jordan had come in, and as the official ranch giant, he had just agreed to put the star on the top of the tree. He was carrying a child on each shoulder and the black Stetson hung on a hook near the door. It was only when he reached the tree that he saw Samantha, and then, setting the children down, he smiled. From her perch on the ladder for once she was actually taller than he.

  Put you to work, did they, Sam?

  Of course. She smiled, but ever since her earlier moment of nostalgia there had been something sparkling missing from her smile. For a moment he commandeered the ladder and clambered up it quickly to hang the huge gold star. He added a few angels and some bright Christmas balls near the top, adjusted the lights, and then stepped down and handed Samantha up again. Very nice.

  There have to be some advantages to being as tall as I am. Do you want a cup of coffee? He said it casually, as though they had always been friends, and this time when she answered there was more life in her smile.

  Sure.

  He came back with two cups and some cookies and proceeded to hand her an assortment of ornaments, which she hung from her perch as occasionally she sipped her coffee and munched a cookie and he commented on where she should hang the next ball. At last she grinned at him after he had just told her where to hang a little silver angel.

  Tell me, Mr. Jordan, do you always give orders?

  He stopped to think for a moment and then nodded. Yeah, I guess I do.

  She sipped her coffee and watched him. Don't you find it tiresome?

  No. And then he looked at her pointedly. Do you' find it tiresome to give orders, I mean? He sensed that she was used to running things too. There was something about her that suggested an aura of command.

  She answered without hesitation. Yes. Very.

  And that's why you're here? It was a very direct question and she looked at him for a minute before answering.

  Partially. As she answered he found himself wondering if she had had a nervous breakdown. He was sure that there was a serious reason why she had come to the ranch, and he was also sure that this was not just an ordinary housewife running away from home. But there was nothing to indicate that she was even slightly crazy. He really had no clue.

  Samantha, what do you do when you're not in California working on ranches?

  She didn't really want to answer but she liked his openness as he stood there talking to her. She didn't want to spoil their working relationship by being cute with glib answers and scaring him away. This was a man she liked and respected, sometimes detested, but thought was good at his job. What was the point of playing games with him now?

  I write commercials. It was an oversimplification of her job, but it was a start. In an odd way she was not unlike the assistant foreman at Crane, Harper, and Laub. Realizing that suddenly made her smile.

  What's so funny? He looked puzzled as he watched her.

  Nothing. I just realized that in some ways our jobs are alike. At the advertising agency where I work there's a man named Harvey Maxwell. He's kind of like Bill King. And he's also old and one of these days he's going to retire, and Suddenly she was sorry she had said it. All he would do is resent her if he thought she was going to step into the man's job, but Tate Jordan was smiling as she abruptly ended her recital.

  Go ahead, say it.

  Say what? She tried hard to look blank.

  That you'll probably get his job.

  What makes you think that? Despite the fresh suntan she was blushing. I didn't say that.

  You didn't have to. You said our jobs were alike. So you're an assistant foreman, are you? For some reason she couldn't fathom, he looked pleased, as though that amused him. Very nice. Do you like what you do?

  Sometimes. Sometimes it's hectic and crazy and I hate it.

  At least you don't have to ride twelve hours in the rain.

  There is that. She returned the smile, suddenly intrigued by this big gentle man who had been so harsh and so demanding during her first days on the ranch, and so livid with her for riding Black Beauty, and now he seemed like a totally different person as they drank coffee and ate cookies next to the Christmas tree. She looked at him closely for a moment and then decided to
ask him something. She suddenly felt that she had nothing to lose. As he stood there he looked impossible to anger, impossible to annoy. Tell me something. Why did you get so furious with me for riding Black Beauty?

  He stood very still for a moment and then set down his coffee cup and looked deep into her eyes. Because I thought it was dangerous for you.

  Because you didn't think I was good enough to ride him? This time it wasn't a challenge, it was a straight question, and he gave her a straight answer.

  No, I knew you were good enough that first day. The way you sat on Rusty in the pouring rain and even got a little work out of the old nag, I knew damn well you were good. But it takes more than that to ride Black Beauty. It takes caution and strength, and I'm not sure you're long on either. In fact I'm sure you're not. One day that horse is going to kill somebody. I didn't want it to be yoti. He paused for a moment, his voice husky. Miss Caroline should never have bought him. He's a bad horse, Sam. He looked at her strangely. I feel it in my gut. He frightens me. And then he startled her again by speaking ever so softly. I don't want you to ride him again. She said nothing in answer, and after a long moment she looked away. But that's not like you, is it? To turn down a challenge, to pass up a risk? Maybe especially now.

  What do you mean by that? She was puzzled by what he had just said.

  He looked her straight in the eye again as he answered. I have the feeling you've lost something very precious to you ' someone, most likely that's the only thing most of us give a damn about. Maybe right now you don't care about yourself as much as you should. That's a bad time to ride a demon horse like that stallion. I'd rather see you on any horse on the ranch except that one. But I don't suppose you'd give up riding a Thoroughbred stallion just for me. She wasn't sure what to say to him when he stopped talking, and her voice was husky when she answered at last.

  You're right about a lot of things, Tate. His name was new and strange on her lips, and when she lifted her eyes to his, her voice grew softer. I was wrong to ride him the way I did. I took a lot of chances that morning. And then after a brief pause, I won't promise you that I won't ride him again, but when I do, I'll be careful. I will promise you that. Broad daylight, terrain I know, no jumping over a rock bed and a stream I can barely see.'

  My God, how reasonable! He looked down at her and grinned. I'm impressed! He was teasing her and she grinned.

  You should be! You can't imagine the crazy things I've done on horses over the years.

  You ought to quit doing stuff like that, Sam. It's not worth the price you may have to pay. They both fell silent for a moment. They both knew of the accidents that befell others, the paraplegics who spent the rest of their lives in wheelchairs because they risked a mad jump and fell. I never did see the point of that crazy Eastern jumping. Christ, you can kill yourself like that, Sam. Is it worth it?

  She let her eyes drift into his. Does it matter?

  He looked at her long and hard. It may not matter to you right now, Sam. But one of these days it will again. Don't do something foolish. You can't change that back. She nodded slowly and smiled. He was a strange and perceptive man, and she could see that he had qualities she hadn't originally noticed. At first she had seen him only as a tyrannical but effective assistant foreman. Now she saw that he was a man of much greater depth. The years he had spent around people and ranchers and ranch hands, living and losing and working till he almost dropped, hadn't been wasted. He had learned what he did well, and along with it he had learned to read people no simple art. More coffee? He looked down at her again with a small smile and she shook her head.

  No, thanks, Tate. This time his name seemed easier on her lips. I should be moving on. I'm on the cookie-making detail. What about you? He grinned at her and stretched to whisper in her ear.

  I'm Santa. He said it with mixed embarrassment and glee.

  What? She looked at him with confused amusement, not sure if he was kidding.

  I'm Santa. He said it again, barely doing more than mouth the words, and then, leaning closer to her, he explained. Every year I get all dressed up in a costume and Miss Caroline's got this huge bag of toys for the kids. I play Santa.

  Oh, Tate, you?

  Hell, I'm the tallest guy here. It makes sense. He tried to pass it off as ordinary but it was obvious that he enjoyed it. The kids really make it all worthwhile. And then he looked down at her questioningly again. You got kids?

  She shook her head slowly, her eyes giving away nothing of the emptiness she felt. You? She had momentarily forgotten the ranch gossip she'd heard from Josh.

  I've got one. Works on a ranch near here now. He's a good kid.

  Does he look like you?

  Nope. Not at all. He's kind of slight and redheaded like his mother. He smiled slowly as he said it, thinking of the boy with obvious pride.

  Her voice was husky again when she spoke to him. You're a very lucky man.

  I think so too. He smiled at her. And then his voice lowered again as it almost caressed her. But don't worry, little palomino, one of these days you're gonna be lucky too. He touched her gently on the shoulder then and moved on.

  Santa ' Santa! ' Over here.'

  Now just a minute, Sally. You've got to wait for me to come over to that side of the room. Tate Jordan in the heavy white beard and red velvet costume was slowly making his way around the room, endowing each child with a much awaited present, bestowing candy canes and other candies, pats on the cheek, hugs, and even kisses. It was a side of Tate Jordan that no one knew except the people who saw him do this every year on the ranch. It made one actually believe in Santa, just to watch him chuckle and cavort and pull yet another surprise from his enormous sack. Had he not told her earlier that evening that he was playing Santa, Samantha would never have suspected that it was he. Even his voice sounded different as he chatted and chuckled gently, exhorting children to be good to their mommies and their daddies this year, to stop teasing their little sisters, to do their homework, and to stop being mean to the cat or the dog. He seemed to know everything about everyone, which of course wasn't difficult on a ranch. But as they touched him and were touched by him, the children were ecstatic, and even Samantha was caught up in the magic of his ho ho ho. The entire performance seemed to take him hours, and when he was through, after eating a whole plate of cookies and six glasses of milk, he vanished with a last Ho ho ho toward the barn, not to be seen again for another year.

  Forty-five minutes later, bereft of makeup, padded belly, white wig, and red suit, he reappeared in the main hall, unnoticed as he wandered through the crowd admiring the toys and the dolls and tickling and teasing the children. Soon he made his way to where Samantha stood, with Bill and Caroline, in a simple black velvet skirt with a very pretty white lace blouse. Her hair was knotted loosely at her neck and tied with a black velvet ribbon, and she was wearing makeup for the first time since she had come to the ranch.

  Is that you, Sam? he teased after accepting a glass of punch and a fervent thank-you to his employer.

  I could say the same to you, you know. And then in a soft voice, That was just terrific. Are you that good every year?

  I get better and better. He grinned happily. The Santa Claus role always made Christmas for him.

  Is your son here?

  No. He shook his head quickly. Jeff's boss isn't as generous as mine. He smiled at Samantha. He's working tonight.

  That's too bad. She looked genuinely sorry.

  I'll see him tomorrow. And it's all right. He's a big guy now. He doesn't have time for his old man. But there was no resentment as he said it. He had enjoyed watching his son become a man. For a moment he wanted to ask Samantha why she had had no children, he had been watching her all evening as she hungrily eyed all the little boys and girls, but he finally decided that it was far too personal a question and he settled instead for a question about New York.

  It's a lot colder there, but I don't think I've ever been anywhere where there's as much Christmas spirit as this. />
  That has nothing to do with California. That's Caroline Lord, and nothing else. Samantha nodded, and this time when they exchanged a smile their eyes met and held.

  Shortly thereafter Samantha met Josh's wife and two of his married children, and a number of the men she'd been riding with for the last two weeks sheepishly brought her their wives or their girl friends, their sons and their daughters and their nieces, and for the first time since she'd come there, she knew that she belonged.

  Well, Sam? Very different from your usual Christmas? Caroline was looking at her with a warm smile and Bill was standing nearby.

  Very different. And I love it.

  I'm glad. It was only a few minutes after Caroline had warmly hugged her and wished her a merry Christmas that Samantha noticed that she seemed to have disappeared. And shortly thereafter she realized that the old foreman had too. She wondered how many others had noticed. But Samantha was equally aware of the fact that she never heard any gossip about them on the ranch. She wondered if perhaps she was jumping to inappropriate conclusions. It didn't seem likely that she was, but one never knew.

  Tired? It was Tate Jordan's voice just above her again, and she turned toward him with a little nod.

  I was just about to go back to the house. I was looking for Aunt Caro, but I guess she's already gone.

  She always leaves quietly so as not to spoil anyone's fun. He spoke with nothing but the greatest admiration. It was a bond that he shared with Sam. Are you ready to go too? Sam nodded and tried unsuccessfully to squelch a yawn. Come on, sleepyhead, I'll walk you home.

  Can I help it if the guy I work for is a slave driver? It's a wonder I don't fall out of my saddle half dead by the end of the day.

  Once or twice he grinned at her I thought you might. And then he laughed out loud. That first day, Sam, I thought you'd stick it out if you died in the saddle.

  I almost did. Josh almost had to carry me home.

  And you still got up on Black Beauty after that! You're crazy!