eased off after a minute to a trot, and headed in the direction of the solitary cow.
Passing through a draw she skirted a patch of cinquefoil blooming yellow against the grey-green grass, and for no reason, thought of Rhea. At the opening of a shallow, sloping coulee, she stopped, then began the descent, following a cowpath that wandered among the wild rosebushes, past low, stunted saskatoons and greasewood. Little patches of antelope droppings were scattered along the path. She climbed the other side and rounded a patch of vetches not yet opened to the light.
She saw that look in Diane’s eyes again. It made her shiver just to think of it. It reminded her of the look she had seen in her mother’s eyes in those last days before she died. She knew that none of the things she had said to Diane had made any difference to her, and she was sorry now that she had been so harsh. But she had thought Diane needed to hear those things. She had thought she could convince her that she was being foolish. But now, alone, she had to admit to herself that she really didn’t understand what it was that Diane wanted, or what was going on in her mind. All I ever wanted was to be a wife and mother, Selena thought. No nursing for me, like my mother wanted. She thought about the first time Kent made love to her that weekend in the fall of their grade twelve year. A bunch of them had gone to a dance at Antelope, and then gone from there to another dance they had heard about in the park. Her mother had been furious with her because she didn’t get home till five in the morning. She remembered how she hadendured the questioning, the accusations, the punishment, without really noticing. What could her mother say that would matter after what had happened last night? From that moment when he entered her, Selena realized, the world never looked the same again. And then they had married.
A long-eared jackrabbit burst out of a clump of sage and bounded away with long, lazy steps. She lifted her head to watch him go, then noticed that while she had been daydreaming, she had ridden up on the cow. I might have ridden right past her, she thought, disgusted with herself and glad that Kent wasn’t there to see it.
She stopped her horse and turned in the saddle to search the clumps of sage and the rocks for a lost calf curled up beside them, but there was none to be seen. Checking the cow again, she saw that her bag was uncomfortably full. Good. This must be the cow that belonged to the lost calf. She settled down in her saddle and nudged her horse to a trot. It was getting late, six at least, judging by the sun. She began to chase the cow back in the direction she had come from, concentrating hard on what she was doing now, anxious not to lose the cow, and thinking of what Kent would say if she did.
But the cow was willing to go and offered little resistance. In fifteen minutes they were back at the waterhole. As she neared it, Selena saw Kent on the far side, his rope unfurled and dangling, using it to persuade, with gentle touches, the lost calf to go around the waterhole toward Selena and the cow she had brought with her.
The calf began to bleat again and the cow lifted her head, bellowed an anxious reply and began to run toward the calf. When they met each other, Selena and Kent on opposite sides of them, watching, the cow smelled the calf all over and, satisfied that it was her own, stood to let it nurse, which it did eagerly and fiercely, butting her firmly with its head as it searched for a teat.
They watched for a moment. Then Kent called to her, “You start back with the sick cow. It’s going to be awful slow going. I’ll do the rest of the checking myself.”
“Okay,” she called back, ready to say something more, but he had already turned his horse and was heading west, riding fast. She turned too,then, found the sick cow over the next hill, and started back to the corrals two miles to the south, with the cow stumbling slowly ahead of
Passing through a draw she skirted a patch of cinquefoil blooming yellow against the grey-green grass, and for no reason, thought of Rhea. At the opening of a shallow, sloping coulee, she stopped, then began the descent, following a cowpath that wandered among the wild rosebushes, past low, stunted saskatoons and greasewood. Little patches of antelope droppings were scattered along the path. She climbed the other side and rounded a patch of vetches not yet opened to the light.
She saw that look in Diane’s eyes again. It made her shiver just to think of it. It reminded her of the look she had seen in her mother’s eyes in those last days before she died. She knew that none of the things she had said to Diane had made any difference to her, and she was sorry now that she had been so harsh. But she had thought Diane needed to hear those things. She had thought she could convince her that she was being foolish. But now, alone, she had to admit to herself that she really didn’t understand what it was that Diane wanted, or what was going on in her mind. All I ever wanted was to be a wife and mother, Selena thought. No nursing for me, like my mother wanted. She thought about the first time Kent made love to her that weekend in the fall of their grade twelve year. A bunch of them had gone to a dance at Antelope, and then gone from there to another dance they had heard about in the park. Her mother had been furious with her because she didn’t get home till five in the morning. She remembered how she hadendured the questioning, the accusations, the punishment, without really noticing. What could her mother say that would matter after what had happened last night? From that moment when he entered her, Selena realized, the world never looked the same again. And then they had married.
A long-eared jackrabbit burst out of a clump of sage and bounded away with long, lazy steps. She lifted her head to watch him go, then noticed that while she had been daydreaming, she had ridden up on the cow. I might have ridden right past her, she thought, disgusted with herself and glad that Kent wasn’t there to see it.
She stopped her horse and turned in the saddle to search the clumps of sage and the rocks for a lost calf curled up beside them, but there was none to be seen. Checking the cow again, she saw that her bag was uncomfortably full. Good. This must be the cow that belonged to the lost calf. She settled down in her saddle and nudged her horse to a trot. It was getting late, six at least, judging by the sun. She began to chase the cow back in the direction she had come from, concentrating hard on what she was doing now, anxious not to lose the cow, and thinking of what Kent would say if she did.
But the cow was willing to go and offered little resistance. In fifteen minutes they were back at the waterhole. As she neared it, Selena saw Kent on the far side, his rope unfurled and dangling, using it to persuade, with gentle touches, the lost calf to go around the waterhole toward Selena and the cow she had brought with her.
The calf began to bleat again and the cow lifted her head, bellowed an anxious reply and began to run toward the calf. When they met each other, Selena and Kent on opposite sides of them, watching, the cow smelled the calf all over and, satisfied that it was her own, stood to let it nurse, which it did eagerly and fiercely, butting her firmly with its head as it searched for a teat.
They watched for a moment. Then Kent called to her, “You start back with the sick cow. It’s going to be awful slow going. I’ll do the rest of the checking myself.”
“Okay,” she called back, ready to say something more, but he had already turned his horse and was heading west, riding fast. She turned too,then, found the sick cow over the next hill, and started back to the corrals two miles to the south, with the cow stumbling slowly ahead of
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