Authors: Kate Vale
She felt excited and anxious by turns, as she looked at the map. She’d never taken a trip by herself. What if she had car trouble? Or she couldn’t find a place to stay for the nights she would be gone? But she sensed this was a new beginning. If only she had the courage to leave.
Chapter 5
Suzanna left town, still hearing Penny’s insistence that she was making a huge mistake, that Yellowstone was too far, that she would be gone too long. And shouldn’t she fly if all her mother wanted was to see Yellowstone Park? Suzanna had replied (calmly she thought) that she would check in by phone after she reached the motel her first night away. Penny’s first call rattled in Suzanna’s pocket only two blocks from the house. The second one occurred less than thirty minutes later. Suzanna turned off her phone and continued driving.
She arrived in San Antonio four days later.
With Sam on a leash, they wandered the grounds of the Alamo. Suzanna touched the bullet holes in the side of the building
then wandered along the bank of the nearby river as she recalled
the books
about the battle she had read to the children
. She stopped at a roadside restaurant and ordered Tex-Mex fare, which she ate in the spring sunshine, enjoying its warmth after days of
too-cold blustery breezes.
That evening at the motel, Suzanna looked for her cell phone
, eager to share what she had seen with Penny and Kevin
. It was nowhere to be found.
“I w
onder where I put the
thing,” she muttered to
Sam
,
as she
look
ed
through her nearly-empty suitcase, scattering
her
clothes on
to
the bed in her search.
I’ll write a letter instead.
Dear Penny:
I’m having a wonderful time exploring the Alamo and what folks here call the “hill country.” I would really appreciate it if you would be more positive in your tone when you leave me phone messages.
Good luck with the possible trip to New York. I’m sure you’ll enjoy spending your promotion money at Bloomingdale’s. Your father would approve. I can’t seem to find the cell phone. When I do, I will call, but please try to be more pleasant.
Love you, Mom
Dear Kevin:
Veronica sounds like a lovely person. It’s been a while since you’ve mentioned a girlfriend. Please tell me more.
I take it from your last call that Penny is being nasty. Hang up on her if she won’t stop. You don’t have to put up with her rants. I seem to have misplaced my cell phone. When I find it again, I’ll call.
I’m fine, Sam is fine, and I met some nice people while I was touring the Alamo. I’ll be in touch.
Love, Mom
Suzanna turned the Jeep with the camouflage colors n
orthward, continuing to keep to the back roads
after discovering they had far less truck traffic than the faster freeways
. The more leisurely pace suited
her
mood. Each day
she saw
more evidence of spring, even as they
climbed the southern edge
of the Rockies with their craggy peaks, many still blanketed in white
. Twice
she found places to pull off the road to eat lunch amid meadows blooming into
thick carpets
of wild flowers.
Birds she hadn’t seen before sang her awake nearly every morning.
The day following a sudden rainstorm, she took Sam for a walk along a burbling spring. High above her, a falcon wheeled in the sky, then began a steep dive toward a cluster of ducks flying closer to t
he ground. “Look at that, Sam!”
He barked and ran in a circle
while Suzanna watched, awestruck, at the aerial ballet she witnessed as the ducks scattered out of formation on the falcon’s approach.
That evening, a late spring storm blanketed her car in nearly a foot of snow, forcing her to stay in a dingy roadside motel until it melted.
Three days later, she headed north again, hoping to reach Yellowstone Park to check out the geysers.
“It’s May 10, Sam. Let’s hope we see no more snow.”
After
two
long days of driving, she arrived to find the entrance closed.
The sign on the gate reported “unexpected snow” as the reason.
She turned around, disappointed
and tired of driving
and headed back to the state
road skirting the p
ark
.
“We need to find a place to stop for more than a day or two, Sam. Maybe for a week or so.”
Two hours later, she topped a ridge and looked down onto a river winding through a valley. A herd of cattle were scattered over the new green, overseen by two cowboys on horseback. The view
was enchanting
.
As her finger skimmed over the map, she saw that
she had to be close to Willow Grove
and her heart skipped a beat. “Oh my gosh, Sam. I didn’t realize I was so close to that part of Montana.” She rummaged in her purse. At the bottom, badly creased and with a smear of lipstick across one corner, she read the bedraggled card
.
She debated whether she should call Jonathan Kingsley. He had invited her to stop in, but she’d never told him she was coming.
As she pulled into town, Suzanna
stopped at the gas station
, filled up the Wrangler
then walked across the street to a small post office.
A
gray-haired woman
stood
behind the counter
plac
ing mail into slots.
“Hello,” Suzanna greeted her.
“Could you tell me where I might get a bite to eat?”
The postmistress looked up. “Sure thing! Just hike yourself down about two blocks. The Hitching Post has good food.” She craned her neck
and looked out the window.
“That your dog in th
e
camo J
eep?” She pointed to Sam, who was looking out the half-open window of the car.
“Yes.”
“Well, mention him at the Post and they’ll probably give him a bone. Sharon’s a pushover for big white dogs.” She smiled at Suzanna.
“My name’s Abigail.
What’s yours?”
“Suzanna.” She shook the postmistress’s hand.
“Is there a hotel or motel in town?”
“Nope, we’re too small for that, but if you go
west
about five miles, you’ll find one.”
She followed the woman’s directions to the motel.
After checking in, she returned to the diner for a quick lunch.
The place was nearly empty.
When a waitress approached her, Suzanna asked, “Am I too late for lunch?”
“We’re about done. Take any seat.” She smiled at her. “My name’s Sharon.”
When she returned,
the waitress offered Suzanna a bag of bones for Sam.
“Abigail called and told me you
have a dog
. I used to have a Sam
oyed
, too.”
Suzanna accepted the bag of bones for Sam.
“I’m sure my dog will be thrilled. Where could I get more information about this area—places to hike and things to see, that sort of thing?”
“You might try the library across the street. Emma keeps stuff that tourists might need. She’s lived here forever, so she can answer any questions you might have. And, she loves dogs. If you want, take your pal in with you.”
Suzanna w
alked
across the street to the library, housed in a building with a 1908 date just under the peak of the high roof. The tall shelves created narrow passageways that darkened as she moved down the rows. The small bulbs in the
high,
copper-plated ceiling threw off meager light.
At the back of the main room
and overlooking the street
was a wall with high windows and a window seat
, its cover
cracked and faded. As Suzanna wandered around, she imagined children gathered on the seat f
or story
time. She returned to the front of the library and approached the woman who
had
seated
herself
at a desk near the front door.
“I’m Emma Golden, the librarian. Are you lookin’ for somethin’ special?” Her bright blue eyes sparkled behind her half-glasses
and contrasted with the high color in her cheeks
.
“I was wondering if you had any information about this valley. I might want to do some hiking.” It was time to stop driving, to stay in one place
through the weekend at least, maybe even call Jonathan Kingsley and thank his son for his help that awful afternoon at the beach
.
“Well, let’s see,” Emma got up and
limped
over to a corner area. “Here’s some pieces on the hiking trails in the nearby Gallatin Range, and here’s another on the Madisons to the west.” She passed two dog-eared brochures over to Suzanna. “And here’s one on Yellowsto
ne—in case you want to go there,
though it
gets
awfully
crowded with tourists for my taste.
Mebbe not so many yet, what with the bad winter weather. Lots of slides up in the hills. I hear they still haven’t opened the south or west entrances. And
a
little
book about the ranches around here,
too,
in case you’re interested in cows and such
.
” She cocked her head at Suzanna. “Naw, you don’t mu
ch look like the rancher
type,” she chuckled.
“Actually, that might be interesting, too. When I came into town, I saw some cattle near the river.” She smiled.
“
They’re
part of the Bar Z spread.
He’s always puttin’ his cows out there sooner than most. What about this stuff on Yellowstone? You want that, too?”
Fighting crowds to look at a geyser seemed less attractive than when she’d been home, planning her trip.
Suzanna shook her head. “Maybe later. I’d rather concentrate on the hiking brochures
for now
.”
“Sure thing.
Here’s a couple more.”
Emma
pushed two more trail pamphlets toward Suzanna. “That oughta hold you for
a while
.
How long are you gonna to be here?”
“I’m not sure
, but I’m tired of driving. Being in one place for a few days is what I need right now
. I just checked in
to
a motel
not too far from here
.”
“Would that be t
he Bide-a-Wee?”
She nodded.
“H
m
m, I hear tell they don’t change the sheets as often as they should. If you’re going to stay
longer than a couple of days
, you might want to look into one of the places around here that takes in long-term guests
. We’ve
got a few
of them guest ranches, you know, for dudes. E
ven if they
still
run cows and such.”
Suzanna laughed. “I guess I could qualify. Have you a book with a list of them? Or
are
they in the phone book?”
“Some ’em, meb
be. But your best bet is to go to the post office and ask Abby for a list. She knows everybody’s business for miles around.”
Suzanna smiled. “I guessed that. She told Sharon at the diner about my dog, and when I went in to eat lunch, there was a bag of bones waiting for me.”
“Your dog’s welcome here, too, anytime.” Emma looked around.
“We’re a pretty casual place, in case you hadn’t figured that out already.
Comes with being in a small town, you know.”
“Thanks for the suggesti
on about other places to stay.” Suzanna approached the door, then back-tracked to the desk. “
Could I ask you a question?”
“Shoot.”
“Would you happen to know
Jonathan Kingsley?”
“’Course. He’s a rancher here, one of the biggest. You lookin’ for him, got business to do with him?” She cocked her head to one side and her mass of silver curls bounced.
“Not business, just a social call.”
Emma laughed. “Well, good luck with that. Jonathan—he’s been runnin’ away from women for years now.”
Suzanna’s cheeks warmed. “I just wanted to know if I had the right Willow Grove. He gave me his card … when I met him at the beach … in North Carolina.”
The librarian glanced back at her with a quizzical expression. “Well, now. Ask Abby. She can give you directions to his place.”
“
Thanks. How long can I keep these pamphlets and books?
”
“Take all the time you need. Generally we expect things back in a month, but I’m not into chasin’ patrons, if you know what I mean.” The woman smiled at her again before turning back to shelving books from the cart she’d been pushing down the aisle. “Just so long as you bring them back before you leave town.”