Drexler has met her match. I’ve never seen her this happy.”
“I’ve met him. He seems like a nice man, but does he.” Audrey turned, milk jug in hand. “Well, realistically, how’s her health?”
“Realistically, multiple sclerosis is incurable, Mother.” Don’t hang your head, Mother. It’s just you and me. Mary checked the contents of the sugar canister before setting it within Audrey’s reach. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. You were just asking.”
Audrey wasn’t ready for the sugar, but she laid her hand over the canister lid anyway. Mary touched the hand that once fed her, felt Mother’s gratitude through cool, tissue-paper skin. The feel of fragility shook her to the core. Word from afar that her mother was in the hospital hadn’t surprised her. She knew her duty. She took the leave, took the journey, took her place at her mother’s side, and then, finally, it hit her. Her mother was mortal.
“She had her cane close at hand,” Mary went on, “but she’s full of Sally spunk. All excited about the competition they’re running to get more people interested in wild horses. You enter up, you get to pick a horse and train it for whatever you want and show it at the end of the contest. Big cash prize for the winners. Winner. Whatever.”
Mary opened a cupboard and took out measuring cups. She pulled a ring full of spoons from a reliable drawer. Mother’s helper was a familiar role. Knowing the drill made for a comfortable segue from what they both knew to what one of them wanted to say and needed the other to hear. They could take turns. There was so much, and it was confusing and even if there were no answers it seemed as though the questions should be voiced.
What’s going on with our bodies, Mother? You don’t know? If you don’t know, who does?
Disorder, that’s what. One wonky part throws the whole system off, right? One misstep causes temporary tailspin. Take a deep breath and wait for the spinning to stop. Take the time to get everything in line. What Mary liked best about the army was order. Clarity. Why couldn’t she bring the clarity home with her?
Home? What was that?
Start with something simple, Mary.
She leaned her hip against the edge of the counter. “I want to try it.”
“Training a horse?” Audrey turned the burner on under the milk. “How long does that take?”
“You get ninety days.”
“You mean.” Breathless pause. “.you’re not going back?”
Was that hope or fear? It was hard to tell with Mother. Either way, Mary knew the feeling, and it was damn prickly. She lifted one shoulder. “I’d have a training partner.”
“What are you talking about, girl?” Both women turned in the direction of the voice. “That dog food farm down the road?”
Speaking of prickly. Dan Tutan either stormed into a room or appeared out of nowhere. Either way, he enjoyed taking people off guard. He would have made a hell of a c.o., Mary thought. George Armstrong Tutan.
“I was talking to Mother.”
“And I was joking with you, Daughter.” Father’s smile never touched his eyes. “I know the Drexler girls are your friends. I don’t much like what they’re doing over there, but since they’re my girl’s friends, they can raise all the dog food they want. I’ll even borrow ‘em my sausage grinder when it comes time to butcher.” He raised an instructive finger. “That was another joke.”
“Of course.” Who would have guessed?
He moved in close enough to get a peek into the kettle. Audrey stepped to one side, stirring, stirring, stirring. Mary held her ground.
“You’re not making vanilla, are you?”
“Strawberry,” Audrey said.
“Good.” He glanced at Mary as he turned away from the stove. “Why didn’t you bring one of your dogs with you? Show me some of their tricks.”
“They’re working dogs.”
“The army doesn’t give them any leave time?” Her father chuckled.
“She sent us a wonderful training video,” Audrey said as she tested the milk with her finger. “She’s in it, working with the smartest dog I’ve ever seen.” She flipped the burner off, glancing at Mary as she moved the kettle. “I watched it on the computer. He doesn’t like computers.” “They don’t like me.”
“We should all watch it together,” Audrey suggested. “Mary can tell us more than what they say on the video. I mean, more about what she actually does and how those dogs…” She rummaged in the refrigerator and backed out with eggs and cream. “We could have our ice cream while we watch, and I could pop some—”
“They’re trying to take over that whole area west of the highway,” Dan said, never one to let a bad joke go to waste. “All that Indian land I’ve been leasing over there.”
“It’s mostly badlands, isn’t it?” Mary said. Part of her wanted to fall back and ignore his remarks, but the rest of her wanted to take a position and push back.
“Hell, no. There’s a lot of grass out there, and the Tribe wants to turn it over to those girls and their welfare program for horses.”
“You hardly use that land. It’s as wild as those horses are.”
“That’s how much you know about cattle ranching. What’s gonna happen to this place after I’m gone? Between you and your brother….” He drew a deep breath and blew out heated disgust. “You work your whole life to build something solid, and you want to be able to put your name on it and hand it over to heirs who know how to carry on. Born ranchers. Tutan heirs.”
“Sounds like a group of backup singers,” Mary quipped. “The Tutanaires.”
“I could sure use some backup for a change. When it comes down to it—and sooner or later it will, between their horses and our cows—we’ll see who’s a Tutan heir. Between you and your brother.”
“You already said that. How long has it been since you heard from my brother?”
Silence. Her older brother had left home as soon as he’d finished high school. Mary admired him for putting himself through college and getting involved with the Forest Service in the Pacific Northwest. Sadly, she and Tom had allowed distance and the passage of time to get the better of their relationship.
“He called me on Mother’s Day,” Audrey said. “He and Adrienne are fine.”
“Good to know,” Mary said. “If he ever changes his mind about South Dakota, he’s welcome to the place as far as I’m concerned.”
“He has to change his mind about me first. Owes me—” Dan made a dismissive gesture “—an apology, to start with. After that, he owes me the two thousand dollars I loaned him to get himself a car.”
“That was for college, Father. The car was—”
“The
