If Wishes Were Horses (42 page)

Edward’s final solution to the remaining amount owed on the mortgage was to pay the bank himself, drawing up a personal loan that Etta would repay at a low monthly rate for the next twenty years.

“I don’t want to have to deal with this any longer,” Edward told her. “The way you go at things, we would likely be tied up for a decade tryin’ to get you off that place.”

“I’ll pay you, Edward. I promise I will.”

“I know you will,” he said quietly. Then he gave one of his cool grins. “It’s a very good deal for me, you know.”

Several days later, Etta was quite thrilled to drive herself into town for signing of the official paperwork for the sale of the land and closure of the mortgage. Obie had at last gotten her car going.

It had been over six months since she had been behind the wheel of a vehicle, and she headed away down the drive with fits and starts, with Obie and Latrice watching wide-eyed, and Johnny limping alongside, calling to her through the window instructions about the use of the clutch. Johnny was something of a fanatic about the proper use of a clutch.

By the time she returned from the meeting at the bank, she sped smoothly up the drive and came to a quick stop in front of the house.

“Latrice! Latrice, it’s ours!” she called as she raced up the steps and through the house.

Latrice was in the kitchen starting supper. Etta could smell the aroma of meat and onions—the roast Latrice was cooking in celebration of their good fortune. Bursting through the swinging door, she saw Obie sitting at the table, holding Lattie Kate, and Latrice, in her lovely blue dress, standing beside him.

Etta thrust the papers at Latrice, took Lattie Kate from Obie and danced her around, singing, “Lattie Kate, sweet Lattie Kate, Mama’s gonna love you twice your weight.”

She coaxed a smile from Lattie Kate, and then she said to Latrice and Obie, who now held the papers Latrice had passed to him, “Isn’t it wonderful, Obie? We can all stay right here. We can raise Lattie Kate right here where she belongs. Where’s Johnny? I want to tell him. He has all the time in the world to take on new horses now.”

She handed Lattie Kate down to Obie again, intending to go and find Johnny outside. All the way home she had thought that maybe now she and Johnny could settle things between them. She didn’t feel so frightened anymore. She felt things were falling into place and surely they would with Johnny, too.

“Johnny Bellah’s gone, honey,” Latrice said.

Etta, already halfway across the room, stopped and slowly turned. “He’s gone? Where’d he go?”

Her gaze moved rapidly from Latrice to Obie. Seeing their drawn expressions, she tensed with dread.

Latrice took a deep breath. “That I don’t know. He just came up here earlier this afternoon and said he was leavin’. He had his truck packed, and that golden horse of his in the back.”

“You mean he’s gone for good?” Etta again looked from Latrice to Obie, who averted his eyes.

Latrice’s expression was filled with pity. “That’s what it seems, honey.”

“Do you know where he went, Obie?” Etta asked quickly.

Obie shook his head. “He told me goodbye, but that’s all.”

Latrice held out an envelope. “He left you a note.”

Etta slowly took the envelope, saying faintly, “It looks like one from  my stationery.”

“It is, honey. He asked to borrow paper and an envelope,” Latrice said. She had not called Etta honey so many times in a row since the morning they’d been told Roy had died.

Etta read her name written upon the envelope in a careful hand. She raised her eyes to Latrice. “He couldn’t wait to speak to me?”

“I guess he thought it was better like this.”

Holding the envelope tightly, Etta left the room, walked through to the stairway, where she sat without thinking three steps from the bottom. Slowly she opened the envelope and took out her own watermarked stationary. She noticed a thumbprint smudge on the fine ivory linen.

It was the first time she could recall seeing Johnny’s handwriting. Before she took in what he said, she noticed how perfect his hand was, and that his wording was much more proper on paper than when he spoke. Still, she clearly heard his voice.

Dear Etta,

It is time for me to go along down the road. I have stayed longer than I had intended. You are doing fine with Little Gus now, and I am confident that you can do anything you should take a mind to do with him. You might want to remember to use your legs more. I have arranged for Bennie Nightingale to come take over my training and lessons. Bennie is that young man with the pinto that you raced. He is of fine caliber and a good horseman. It is likely he will bring you more business, too. I greatly appreciate my time spent at your farm and thank you and Miss Latrice for your hospitality.

With warm regards always, Johnny

A tear fell from Etta’ s cheek and blotted the Y of Johnny’s name.

Through blurred vision, she read the note over twice, thinking she must have missed something. He had hardly said anything at all. He hadn’t said he loved her, that he was sorry to leave her, that it killed him to leave her, but that he just had to go because it was hard on both of them. How could he not say any of that?

Dropping her head upon her knees, she cried profusely. Latrice, who had slipped through the swinging door, heard Etta’s sobs. She went back into the kitchen and demanded of Obie, “Are you sure that boy didn’t tell you where he was goin’?”

“He just told me that he was goin’ along. And besides, if he had told me, I wouldn’t be able to tell you, if he didn’t want me to.”

Latrice didn’t know what to think. She did not know if she should be glad that Johnny Bellah had gone on, or if she should be disappointed. With a single whack, she put a butcher knife through a turnip.

“I suppose it’s for the best,” she said bitterly, “if this is the type of man he was goin’ to turn out to be, it is better to happen now rather than later.”

“Now, Miss Latrice, Johnny is a fine man. He and Miz Etta just didn’t see things quite eye to eye.”

“He apparently is not strong enough for her,” Latrice said. “It takes a strong man to stick with a woman moody and stubborn as Etta.” Glancing over, she saw Obie casting her a speculative grin.

“It takes a strong man to keep up with Latrice Wilson, too, and I’m up to the job,” he said, coming to put an arm around her.

“Not tonight,” she said firmly. “Get any thoughts of my bed tonight out of your mind. Dealin’ with Etta will wear me out.”

She felt badly at the disappointed look that came over Obie’s face, but not badly enough to change her mind. She was put out with men in general at that minute. She knew it was not fair, but she blamed Obie in part for not stopping Johnny Bellah from going. She also thought that he did not need to get too complacent about her affections.

The next instant Obie, holding Lattie Kate, creamy white against his dark arm, put his free arm around Latrice from behind and pulled her against him. He bent low to her ear and said, “I’m strong enough for whatever you throw at me, Miss Latrice. I ain’t the one who left, and I’m never gonna stop comin’ in that door.”

Latrice pressed her head back against his rock-solid chest. Then she told him to sit down and mind the baby before he dropped her and broke her neck.

That very evening, just at the time Etta and Obie were preparing to feed the horses and the light was golden over all the corrals, Bennie Nightingale pulled up in a red truck, bringing two beautiful paint horses. He jumped out with the ease of a very young man and ran to take the wheelbarrow of hay out of Etta’s hands.

“I’ll get it, Missus Rivers. Johnny told me feeding time was ‘bout now, and I’ll see to it. It’ll give me a good chance to see what stock you got here.”

Etta stood there a minute, and then she followed after him to tell him a little about each horse and each horse’s owner. Bennie listened and eagerly threw in comments crafted to show that he knew horses. He was very proud Johnny had asked him to come take over.

“They don’t come better horsemen than Johnny Bellah,” he said fervently. “I’m like Johnny. I’ve been with horses all my life, and my father before me, too.”

Etta tried to act pleased that he was there; she didn’t want to dampen his enthusiasm. But she had to drag herself around. Johnny’s abandonment had caused her to lose all interest in her horse operation. She felt as if she had little interest in breathing, and this so scared her that after showing Bennie Nightingale around, she rushed in and held Lattie Kate the rest of the evening. She held her most of the next couple of days, too, so much that Latrice fussed at her: “You are goin’ to make that baby sore.”

It seemed strange that Etta’s life could be so changed and yet everything could continue along not only as normal but progressing. Bennie Nightingale proved out a charmer, as most horsemen were, and all Etta’s boarders stayed. At the end of the second week after Bennie had taken over, Mrs. Winslow caught Etta at the barn and told Etta how pleased she was with him.

“Bennie has gotten my Amy interested in ridin’ again,” she said in her very cultured Virginia accent. “He is so encouragin’, where Johnny had become a little discouragin’. Bennie really knows how to sweet-talk a woman,” she added with a womanly smile.

Etta had indeed noticed how animated Mrs. Winslow had become around Bennie. The woman had taken to putting her hair in a ponytail, the same style as her daughter wore.

“Yes, and Bennie’s equally good with horses,” she replied dryly.

As Johnny had believed, Bennie did bring in a couple more customers he had already been working with. Very shortly, all the stalls in the barn were occupied, and several more of the small corrals employed.

Bennie mentioned that more corrals would need to be built. He could not be expected to build them, however, or make any repairs. He drove over each morning from where he lived with his parents and returned there each evening, and in between he ate and breathed horses, with no eye for anything else. Obie’s private opinion was that Bennie did not know the name of any tool that was not connected with dealing with a horse.

Nathan Lee, Obie’s nephew, could help with feeding horses and some less-strenuous chores, but he was too young to be expected to sling hay bales. He could manage to drive the tractor and pull the trailer, while Obie and Etta loaded the bales from the field, something Johnny had helped do during the previous two cuttings.

Leon came out one afternoon while Etta was doing this. He drove his Cadillac across the clipped alfalfa.

“Good God, Etta,” he said immediately, “you don’t need to be out in the field like this.” His eyes fell on her bare arms sticking out from her sleeveless shirt. Etta followed his gaze and saw how tanned, sinewy, and hard her arms were.

“That’s what I tell her,” Obie put in. “But she don’t listen to me, either.”

“Where’s that Bellah fella?” Leon asked.

“He’s moved on,” Etta answered. She was rather pleased with the way Leon seemed appalled at her arms. She had to deal with a perverse streak these days. Latrice kept telling her she had a poor attitude.

“Can’t you hire someone?” Leon asked.

“Hirin’ someone costs money, and it isn’t always easy to get good help, either. What do you need, Leon? I presume you didn’t come out here to stare at my arms.”

Leon blinked and reddened. Shoving back his coat, he said, “You know that ten acres you have left between here and Obie’s cottage—it borders the highway?”

“Yes?”

“Well, I think we have a buyer for two of those acres if you’re not too stubborn to sell. A fella wants to build a house, and he’s payin’ cash.”

In two days, Etta had sold the acreage. She took the money and bought the barrel racing prospect Harry Flagg had written Johnny about.

“She’s beautiful,” Etta said, when Harry himself delivered the mare.

“I told Johnny she’d be for you.”

Etta stroked the mare’s neck. “Have you seen Johnny, Harry?” She stared at the horse as she spoke, then looked over her shoulder at the big man.

He shook his head and looked regretful. “No, Etta. I haven’t. I’m sorry.”

Bennie took her and Little Gus to a couple of rodeos where she raced barrels, but she did not succeed in drumming up any real interest in the competition. Little Gus felt her low spirits and did not perform well. He lost the first competition and won the next only because all the other horses and riders were so poor.

Etta’s true reason for attending the rodeos was her hope of running into Johnny. She asked Bennie and several others if they had seen him, but no one had.

She supposed he had returned to Texas, and she would imagine him out on the plain, chasing horses around a training pen made of rough cedar posts.

Sometimes she imagined his blue truck speeding up the drive, and Johnny jumping out and running to her and saying, “I made a mistake, and I’ve come back, and I want to love you for the rest of my life.”

In these fantasies she would either reply, “Oh, my darling,” and throw herself into his arms, or “You idiot,” and slap his face, depending on her mood at the moment.

“You haven’t heard from Johnny, have you, Obie?” she asked impulsively one evening, while they paused in feeding the horses. “I . . . I was just wonderin’, you know. Hopin’ he’s okay.”

Obie averted his eyes, looking uncomfortable and sad. “No, ma’am, I haven’t heard. I imagine he’s okay, though.”

“I guess you couldn’t tell me, if he told you not to.” She thought that she was being a little irrational.

Obie shook his head. “I don’t know about that . . . but I haven’t heard from him.”

There was a heaviness in his voice, as if he were as disappointed as she. She gave in to the urge and hugged him, and he awkwardly patted her back.

Feeling foolish, nevertheless Etta continued to hope each day when she checked the mail, thinking that perhaps Johnny would write. Just some little note, to say he was doing okay, and that he missed her. Something maybe to say what he had not said in his parting letter and now needed to say.

She would hurry to the mailbox, and then, when no letter came from him, trudge back up the lane, her heart dragging around until she could boost it up again.