of
cold water she had right there.
“ I’ll just go check on
Mother.” She went out and turned the corner to the
right.
Hank heard her moving around to the
back of the house and then her mother’s low voice, soft and
indistinct. He fought the desire to have a nap, although he would
as soon as he got home.
He moved into the front room and stood
looking out at the quiet street, shaded and cool in the brilliance.
The sun had come out. Maybe the wet spring was just a fluke and
better weather might lie ahead. A man rode by on a fine bay horse,
still wearing his shiny black Sunday suit. It was Bill Carruthers.
Hank didn’t know he lived along here. They’d been on the ship
together as boys. He hadn’t seen Bill in years, and it was a small
town. Bill didn’t seem to recognize him, not through the dusty
window, although he returned a polite nod. The man went up the
street but looked to turn in about four houses up on the same
side.
Shadows danced on the dusty
thoroughfare, and children’s voices rang out nearby. People filled
him with curiosity sometimes.
Her footsteps sounded on the
floorboards behind him and he turned. The sunlight lay across the
floor and bathed everything in a warm golden light and she was a
vision of loveliness.
His heart genuinely ached to see her,
with a hint of sadness on her face.
“ I’ll make up a plate for
her later.” She wrung her hands and looked at Hank.
“ Maybe I could help with the
washing up?”
She brightened a little at the thought
of company and talk. Although Hank was the quiet type, he was also
very intelligent and he knew everybody out his way.
“ That would be welcome.” It
sounded so formal, but she turned and he followed her into the
kitchen.
***
Hank was surprised when she asked him
to take her riding. He’d thought it was just brunch, maybe followed
by a half hour, or more likely at least an hour of small
talk.
He’d been sort of dreading it all
through the meal, although it hadn’t been quite as awkward as he
had been expecting.
Hank hadn’t heard that she was teaching
school, and so that took up a while, and then they talked about her
mother Andrea, with him a bit diffident as she was laying right
there in the next room.
“ You want to go for a ride?”
He could hardly refuse, although the surprise was considerable. “Do
you have a mount?”
She shook her head.
“ No, but the neighbours, the
Baldoons, will let me take Blossom.”
Hank knew them of course. Elmer Baldoon
ran a private postal system, the only kind there were on Third
World. It ran between here and the capital. The route took in the
towns along the road, and no others, no matter how small a
side-trip it would be. They said he’d turned down Long Ridge, a
village only five hundred metres from the turnpike—a trail of
markers across the plains, with a thick scattering of taiga
conifers along that stretch if he remembered right. He hadn’t seen
it in years.
“ Ah, well, ah…all right.” On
some inspiration, he didn’t say anything about asking her mother.
“It’s a beautiful day for a change.”
Her smile stabbed him right in the
solar plexus. It was like he was looking for a catch or
something.
This wasn’t a child. This was a young
lady, the most beautiful one in the area in his humble opinion, and
all of that was the reason for being here. He looked down at his
clothes, his Sunday best. It was bad enough riding into town in
them, and even sitting in church with them on. He just wasn’t used
to it.
“ Don’t worry. We don’t have
to go far, and we can stay on the path.” She reached with both
hands and took Hank’s in her own. “As you can imagine, I don’t get
out much these days, maybe the odd dance and to the store and such.
But seriously, I think it might do the both of us a world of
good.”
After the heavy meal, far more than
Hank would have prepared on his own for any occasion, he had to
agree.
“ Well, all
right.”
“ Let me change into
cold water she had right there.
“ I’ll just go check on
Mother.” She went out and turned the corner to the
right.
Hank heard her moving around to the
back of the house and then her mother’s low voice, soft and
indistinct. He fought the desire to have a nap, although he would
as soon as he got home.
He moved into the front room and stood
looking out at the quiet street, shaded and cool in the brilliance.
The sun had come out. Maybe the wet spring was just a fluke and
better weather might lie ahead. A man rode by on a fine bay horse,
still wearing his shiny black Sunday suit. It was Bill Carruthers.
Hank didn’t know he lived along here. They’d been on the ship
together as boys. He hadn’t seen Bill in years, and it was a small
town. Bill didn’t seem to recognize him, not through the dusty
window, although he returned a polite nod. The man went up the
street but looked to turn in about four houses up on the same
side.
Shadows danced on the dusty
thoroughfare, and children’s voices rang out nearby. People filled
him with curiosity sometimes.
Her footsteps sounded on the
floorboards behind him and he turned. The sunlight lay across the
floor and bathed everything in a warm golden light and she was a
vision of loveliness.
His heart genuinely ached to see her,
with a hint of sadness on her face.
“ I’ll make up a plate for
her later.” She wrung her hands and looked at Hank.
“ Maybe I could help with the
washing up?”
She brightened a little at the thought
of company and talk. Although Hank was the quiet type, he was also
very intelligent and he knew everybody out his way.
“ That would be welcome.” It
sounded so formal, but she turned and he followed her into the
kitchen.
***
Hank was surprised when she asked him
to take her riding. He’d thought it was just brunch, maybe followed
by a half hour, or more likely at least an hour of small
talk.
He’d been sort of dreading it all
through the meal, although it hadn’t been quite as awkward as he
had been expecting.
Hank hadn’t heard that she was teaching
school, and so that took up a while, and then they talked about her
mother Andrea, with him a bit diffident as she was laying right
there in the next room.
“ You want to go for a ride?”
He could hardly refuse, although the surprise was considerable. “Do
you have a mount?”
She shook her head.
“ No, but the neighbours, the
Baldoons, will let me take Blossom.”
Hank knew them of course. Elmer Baldoon
ran a private postal system, the only kind there were on Third
World. It ran between here and the capital. The route took in the
towns along the road, and no others, no matter how small a
side-trip it would be. They said he’d turned down Long Ridge, a
village only five hundred metres from the turnpike—a trail of
markers across the plains, with a thick scattering of taiga
conifers along that stretch if he remembered right. He hadn’t seen
it in years.
“ Ah, well, ah…all right.” On
some inspiration, he didn’t say anything about asking her mother.
“It’s a beautiful day for a change.”
Her smile stabbed him right in the
solar plexus. It was like he was looking for a catch or
something.
This wasn’t a child. This was a young
lady, the most beautiful one in the area in his humble opinion, and
all of that was the reason for being here. He looked down at his
clothes, his Sunday best. It was bad enough riding into town in
them, and even sitting in church with them on. He just wasn’t used
to it.
“ Don’t worry. We don’t have
to go far, and we can stay on the path.” She reached with both
hands and took Hank’s in her own. “As you can imagine, I don’t get
out much these days, maybe the odd dance and to the store and such.
But seriously, I think it might do the both of us a world of
good.”
After the heavy meal, far more than
Hank would have prepared on his own for any occasion, he had to
agree.
“ Well, all
right.”
“ Let me change into
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