When the Wind Blows (20 page)

Was Diana going to hit her or kiss her? She didn’t know.

Diana gathered Christie into her arms and lifted her off the floor. “Come on, baby,” she whispered. “I’ll take you into the house, and we’ll be together. Maybe I’ll start teaching you the piano. Would you like that?”

Mutely Christie nodded her head, and Diana carried her out of the stall. But as she turned to close the gate Diana’s eyes focused once more on the horse.

Christie belonged to her.

And yet the horse seemed almost to be claiming Christie.

Now, as she sat in the darkness of the house, and the wind began to blow, Diana remembered that moment. And she remembered a time when she was a little girl and a stray dog had wandered up to the back door. She had made friends with the dog and begged her mother to let her keep it.

For a while the dog had been hers, sleeping in the nursery with her, romping in the yard with her, making up for all the friends she had never been allowed to have.

And then one day the dog had been gone.

Diana had never known what happened to the dog.

Not until tonight, when, with the wind rattling the old house, and the memory of Hayburner’s eyes fixed on her own, it all came back to her.

She was in the barn, playing with her dog. She heard her mother’s voice calling to her, but paid no attention to it. And then Edna was in the barn, glaring at her.

As Diana looked on, Edna had gone after the dog with an axe, and, his brown eyes fixed pitiously on his little mistress, the dog had died.

The memory crashed out of Diana’s subconscious and flooded her being with hatred. She turned from the window and walked through the house to the back door.

She left the house and, with the wind buffeting her, started across the yard to the barn, where, so many years ago, her pet had died.…

   Christie woke up the next morning and, as she was beginning to do every morning, hesitated to open her eyes. What was going to happen today? Was she going to do something wrong and make Diana mad at her? Miss Edna would be mad at her anyway, but she was getting used to that. With Miss Edna, at least she knew where she stood. But what about Diana? Last night everything had been all right, after that moment in the barn when she thought Diana was going to hit her. But then Diana had seemed to change, and the rest of the day had been okay. They’d sat at the piano together, and Diana had helped her start learning the notes. Then, after supper, they’d played checkers.

And last night, Christie was almost sure Diana hadn’t even locked the nursery door.

She got out of bed and tried the door. It was unlocked.

Did that mean it would be all right to get dressed and go downstairs?

She listened for the sound of voices downstairs, but the house was silent. Then she went to the window and looked out. The sun was high in the sky, and she could hear the horses whinnying in their stalls.

She decided to surprise Diana by feeding all the animals before breakfast.

She pulled on her jeans and a shirt, slipped her feet into a pair of sneakers, then went down the back stairs as quietly as she could.

Outside, she decided to feed the chickens first, saving the horses for last.

The chickens flocked around her as she carried their feed into the coop, and began pecking madly as she poured the grain into the container. She changed their water, made sure the automatic valve was functioning properly, then started toward the barn.

She pulled the barn door open, and the horses, their heads hanging over the gates to their stalls, turned to peer at her and snuffle appreciatively.

All except Hayburner.

Christie frowned and started toward his stall.

“Hayburner?” she called softly. When there was no responding snort, she ran to the stall and pulled the gate open.

On the ground, his mouth foaming and his great brown eyes rolling in misery, lay Hayburner.

Christie froze, staring at the horse. He saw her and struggled to get to his feet but couldn’t. Instead he rolled over onto his back, his hooves flailing at the air.

“Hayburner!” Christie screamed. “What’s wrong?” She moved into the stall and crouched by the horse, who seemed to calm down as she took his head and held it in her lap.

“Hayburner?” she said once more, her voice suddenly tiny as she realized the horse was dying. “Hayburner? Please don’t die.” Her mind whirled, and she tried to think what could be wrong. Only one answer came to her. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I only wanted to love you. Please don’t die. Please?”

But it was as if the horse had been making himself live only until she got there. His eyes rolled once more, his great tongue emerged from his mouth to lick Christie’s hand, and then his breath rattled, and he gasped one last time and lay still.

Holding his lifeless head in her lap, Christie began to cry.

*  *  *

When Diana found Christie, she was sitting in Hayburner’s stall, the dead horse’s head still cradled in her arms. The little girl looked up at Diana, her eyes, usually so filled with life, drained and empty.

“He’s dead,” she whispered. “Aunt Diana, why is he dead?”

Diana pulled her eyes from Christie and looked quickly at the horse. A memory stirred within her, then was gone before she could grasp it. But it had to do with the barn and a dead animal.

An animal for whose death she was somehow responsible.

“What did you do to him?” she asked now.

Christie stared at her, her eves brimming with tears.

“I didn’t do anything to him,” she said. “I was going to feed him, and I came out here, and he was sick. It was awful, Aunt Diana. He was lying here, and I could tell he was hurt. And I came in and tried to help him, but I couldn’t. And then he died.”

She gave in to her grief and began sobbing, clutching the horse’s lifeless head to her chest, burying her face in its mane. Diana watched the scene for a moment, then reached down and pulled Christie to her feet.

“I warned you,” she said softly. “Didn’t I warn you that you hurt the things you love?”

As Christie shivered in the warmth of the morning, Diana held her close, loving her as she had never loved her before.

13

Joyce Crowley arrived at the Amber ranch in the middle of the morning, with Jeff sitting next to her on the hard seat of Matt’s pickup truck. As she jounced to a stop and jumped out of the cab, she reflected that a car—a real car—had been at the top of her list of things to buy once the mine was running again and Matt was steadily employed. But now the car would have to wait. Joyce, however, was used to putting things off, and she reflected that as the tourist industry grew in Amberton something for Matt was bound to turn up. Meanwhile she made-do. After all, even the Ambers were making-do with their ancient Cadillac.

Ignoring the front door, Joyce and Jeff started around to the back of the house, then saw Diana coming out of the barn.

“Hi!” she called. Diana looked up, hesitated, then waved. But as she approached them Joyce could see in her face that something was wrong.

“It’s Hayburner,” Diana explained. “Christie’s horse. He died this morning.”

“Oh, no,” Joyce groaned. “What happened?”

“I’m not sure,” Diana said pensively. “Christie found him in his stall this morning. He was still alive, but he couldn’t get up. He died while she was trying to help him.”

“How horrible for her,” Joyce said. “Where is she? Is she all right?”

“She’s in the house.” Diana glanced uncertainly at Jeff. “I—I’m not sure she wants to see anyone. She’s terribly upset.” She started toward the house, with Joyce and Jeff walking with her. “I’ve got to call the vet and have him come out here to see what happened. And take Hayburner away,” she added.

They went into the kitchen and found Edna sitting at the table, sipping a cup of coffee. She frowned when she saw the two Crowleys but spoke to neither of them. Instead she directed her attention to Diana. “What’s wrong with that child now?” she asked. “She came through here crying about half an hour ago and wouldn’t say a word.”

“It’s Hayburner,” Diana explained. “He’s dead.”

Edna set her cup down and stood up. Her eyes suddenly fixed on Jeff. “Really, I can’t understand why anyone would want children.” She turned and left the room, still not having acknowledged Joyce’s presence. An uncomfortable silence fell over the kitchen as Diana tried to think of what to say. It was Jeff who finally spoke.

“Can I go up to Christie’s room?” he asked. Diana, caught off guard by the question, hesitated. She didn’t want anyone going up to the nursery—not anyone but herself. And yet how could she say no? She thought quickly. “Why don’t I bring her down?” she said lamely. “That might be better.”

“Oh, let him go up,” Joyce urged. “If it’s a mess, don’t worry—his room’s always a mess. Besides, I need to talk to you about something.”

Still Diana hesitated but could think of no rational reason for refusing. It was just a feeling, and she put it aside. “Use the back stairs,” she said, pointing to the pantry. “It’s on the third floor.” As Jeff left the kitchen Diana poured coffee for herself and Joyce.

“It’s nothing terribly serious,” Joyce said as she took the cup Diana offered her. “At least, it isn’t yet. But a couple of things happened at the Sandlers’ last night that I think you ought to know about.”

Diana sat down and stirred some sugar into her coffee. “At the Sandlers’?” she repeated.

Choosing her words carefully, Joyce began explaining everything that had been said the night before.

   Jeff paused on the second-floor landing and looked down the wide hall, which seemed to have rooms opening off either side of it. Why wasn’t Christie’s room on this floor? It seemed to him that there ought to be space. He decided that maybe Christie had asked to be all the way upstairs.

He paused again in the gloom of the attic and decided it was creepy. “Christie?” he called. He listened and thought he could hear a snuffling sound coming from one of the little rooms tucked under the eaves. He went to the door and knocked. “Christie? It’s me.”

There was a silence and then the door opened, and Christie, her face blotched and tearstained, opened the door. “Jeff?”

“Hi. Can I come in?”

“What are you doing here?” Christie asked. Jeff thought she looked frightened.

“My mom wanted to talk to Miss Diana, and she brought me with her. They’re downstairs drinking coffee.” He made a face. “Can I see your room?”

Christie stepped uncertainly backward and let Jeff into the nursery. He looked around, his eyes widening at the stains on the wall and the dirty curtains hanging over the window.

“This is weird,” he said.

“It used to be Aunt Diana’s, when she was a little girl,” Christie explained. Suddenly she saw the room through Jeff’s eyes and realized how dismal it really was. “I wish they’d paint it,” she said.

“Why don’t they?”

“Search me,” Christie said, shrugging. Jeff went to the window and looked out.

“Hey! You can see everything from up here. There’s the mine, and you can see right into the barn, and—” He broke off as Christie suddenly burst into tears. “Hey—what’s wrong?”

“I hate the barn!” Christie burst out. “That’s where Hayburner lived, and now he’s—” Unable to go on, she sank down on the bed and buried her face in her hands. Jeff looked at her worriedly, then went over to sit by her.

“I’m sorry he died,” he offered. “Was he sick?”

Christie shook her head violently. “He was fine,” she said through her sobs. “There wasn’t anything wrong with him at all, and then he died.”

The two children sat silently while Christie tried to stop weeping. And then Jeff remembered that Miss Edna hadn’t seemed to care at all that the horse was dead.

“Maybe somebody poisoned him,” he suggested.

Christie stared at him. “Poisoned him? What are you talking about?”

“Maybe somebody who didn’t like him, or was mad at you, put something in his food.”

“Like who?” Christie demanded.

“Well—” Jeff hesitated, wondering if he should tell her what had happened in the kitchen, then made up his mind. “Miss Edna?”

Christie frowned, and Jeff plunged on. “Well, she sure didn’t care that he was dead, and she thought you were dumb for crying about it.”

Christie was silent for a while, turning the idea over in her mind. “She doesn’t like me,” she said at last.

“She doesn’t like anybody,” Jeff declared. “She’s meaner’n Mrs. Berkey.” He left the bed and went to the window once more. He looked out for a while, then, still looking out the window, spoke to Christie. “Wanna get even?”

“How?”

“Play a trick. Come on.” He started for the door, but Christie hesitated.

“I’m supposed to stay here until Aunt Diana tells me it’s okay to come out.”

Jeff regarded her scornfully. “Well, she let me come up here, didn’t she?” Christie nodded uncertainly. “Well, then, you can come down,” Jeff went on. Together the two children left the nursery and made their way down the back stairs.

“If rumors start going around, I don’t know what might happen,” they heard Joyce Crowley saying as they came into the kitchen.

“Rumors about what?” Jeff asked. His mother looked at him.