me nervous. They’re too damn high.”
“Now look, you. I’m taking vacation time so we can be together and have fun and relax, and that means—”
“That I’m going on a horseback ride. Yes, ma’am.”
“All right, then. I’ll let you off this morning, though.” She leaned over to kiss his cheek and winced. “Ouch. Take a shave, will you? Then let’s go get some breakfast, I’m starving.”
They got to the breakfast buffet at seven-thirty, drank some orange juice and some more coffee, and on Gideon’s suggestion carried their plates of fried eggs, hash browns, and biscuits outside to look for a place to enjoy the slanting, high-country sunlight for a while. They had the grounds to themselves, the other attendees preferring to eat inside. Most of them were from the Southwest; catching up on sunshine was not one of their priorities.
They found a reasonably comfortable low wall—actually part of the rock-and-mortar foundation of an old building that had once stood there in a grove of ponderosa pine—looking out over the near-deserted road to a broad meadow with a few fat cows grazing in it. Happily vacant of mind (was there anything that made one more contentedly empty-headed than watching cows?), Gideon ate his breakfast enjoying Julie’s quiet company and relishing the morning sun’s warmth on the back of his neck. He could feel it, with pleasure, on the rims of his ears. It had been a long winter on Puget Sound.
After a pleasantly indeterminate time they looked around to see Nelson Hobert come tramping ebulliently up the path, arms pumping, wearing a T-shirt that said: “Young at heart, other parts a little older.” Red bermuda shorts displayed lumpy knees and squat, bowed calves. With him were a group of half-a-dozen people, including three of his students from Nevada State, extraordinarily attractive females in their twenties, trailing behind him in a row. Gideon smiled, remembering something that a frankly admiring Les Zenkovich had once said: “I think the old geezer imprints them, you know? Like ducklings.”
Despite his being five-foot-five, bald, potbellied, billygoat-bearded, and unashamedly into his sixties, Nellie Hobert had a remarkable knack for attracting a steady stream of worshipful and attractive young women students. To his colleagues (and to Nellie himself, Gideon thought) it was a source of wonder and amusement; to some of the more predatory among them a source of envy. Hobert’s harem, they called them, which pleased Nellie immensely, patently unpredatory though he was.
Not that he didn’t glow when surrounded by those fresh and adoring faces. Who wouldn’t?
Nellie had arrived the previous evening, accompanied as always by his wife, Frieda. Tired from a long day, he had nevertheless joined the poker party at about ten and stayed almost to the bitter end. An enthusiastic but hopeless card player, he had contributed handsomely and without complaint to Leland’s profits. And as Gideon had known he would, he’d taken the news of Jasper’s disappearance in his stride.
“The old boy just won’t stop making waves, will he?” had been his comment once he’d gotten over the initial shock. “Well, don’t worry about it,” he’d generously told Miranda, “we’ll get the old crock back. Who’d want to keep him?” Julie had taken to him at once.
“Good morning, Julie, Gideon!” he called now. “Guess what! Meredith here has spotted what she thinks are some cremains on the National Forest trail along the meadow. We’re going out to have a quick look before things get going. Care to come?
“Cremains?” Julie repeated.
“Cremated remains,” Nellie said.
“
Human
remains?”
“Yes, but don’t excite yourself. We’re talking about ordinary, legal funerary cremations. People scatter the ashes everywhere, you know. Want to see?”
She jumped up. “Sure! Gideon?”
He declined with a wave. “Go have fun. I’ll pass.”
For one thing, it felt too good to
“Now look, you. I’m taking vacation time so we can be together and have fun and relax, and that means—”
“That I’m going on a horseback ride. Yes, ma’am.”
“All right, then. I’ll let you off this morning, though.” She leaned over to kiss his cheek and winced. “Ouch. Take a shave, will you? Then let’s go get some breakfast, I’m starving.”
They got to the breakfast buffet at seven-thirty, drank some orange juice and some more coffee, and on Gideon’s suggestion carried their plates of fried eggs, hash browns, and biscuits outside to look for a place to enjoy the slanting, high-country sunlight for a while. They had the grounds to themselves, the other attendees preferring to eat inside. Most of them were from the Southwest; catching up on sunshine was not one of their priorities.
They found a reasonably comfortable low wall—actually part of the rock-and-mortar foundation of an old building that had once stood there in a grove of ponderosa pine—looking out over the near-deserted road to a broad meadow with a few fat cows grazing in it. Happily vacant of mind (was there anything that made one more contentedly empty-headed than watching cows?), Gideon ate his breakfast enjoying Julie’s quiet company and relishing the morning sun’s warmth on the back of his neck. He could feel it, with pleasure, on the rims of his ears. It had been a long winter on Puget Sound.
After a pleasantly indeterminate time they looked around to see Nelson Hobert come tramping ebulliently up the path, arms pumping, wearing a T-shirt that said: “Young at heart, other parts a little older.” Red bermuda shorts displayed lumpy knees and squat, bowed calves. With him were a group of half-a-dozen people, including three of his students from Nevada State, extraordinarily attractive females in their twenties, trailing behind him in a row. Gideon smiled, remembering something that a frankly admiring Les Zenkovich had once said: “I think the old geezer imprints them, you know? Like ducklings.”
Despite his being five-foot-five, bald, potbellied, billygoat-bearded, and unashamedly into his sixties, Nellie Hobert had a remarkable knack for attracting a steady stream of worshipful and attractive young women students. To his colleagues (and to Nellie himself, Gideon thought) it was a source of wonder and amusement; to some of the more predatory among them a source of envy. Hobert’s harem, they called them, which pleased Nellie immensely, patently unpredatory though he was.
Not that he didn’t glow when surrounded by those fresh and adoring faces. Who wouldn’t?
Nellie had arrived the previous evening, accompanied as always by his wife, Frieda. Tired from a long day, he had nevertheless joined the poker party at about ten and stayed almost to the bitter end. An enthusiastic but hopeless card player, he had contributed handsomely and without complaint to Leland’s profits. And as Gideon had known he would, he’d taken the news of Jasper’s disappearance in his stride.
“The old boy just won’t stop making waves, will he?” had been his comment once he’d gotten over the initial shock. “Well, don’t worry about it,” he’d generously told Miranda, “we’ll get the old crock back. Who’d want to keep him?” Julie had taken to him at once.
“Good morning, Julie, Gideon!” he called now. “Guess what! Meredith here has spotted what she thinks are some cremains on the National Forest trail along the meadow. We’re going out to have a quick look before things get going. Care to come?
“Cremains?” Julie repeated.
“Cremated remains,” Nellie said.
“
Human
remains?”
“Yes, but don’t excite yourself. We’re talking about ordinary, legal funerary cremations. People scatter the ashes everywhere, you know. Want to see?”
She jumped up. “Sure! Gideon?”
He declined with a wave. “Go have fun. I’ll pass.”
For one thing, it felt too good to
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