Little Red’s Riding by Nicole Casey
Ryder
Clearing brush:sure, it still gives me the chance to swing an ax, to cut, to carve, to manipulate heavy tools, and feel the muscles on my back and shoulder tire from the work. But there is no creation, no physical object, nothing I can stand back from and say, ‘There, look at that. I made that; made it with my own two hands.’
I took a step back from my work and looked at the clearing I had cut through the brush. The bough of the cottonwoods no longer threatened to come crashing through the kitchen window in the next storm; you could now walk safely around the side of the house without twisting your ankle on a loose rock, and the blue columbine and hollyhocks could get the sunlight they needed and not be suffocated by the bracken. But next summer the work would need to be done again. I hadn’t ‘created’ anything, nothing that would stand the test of time and be passed down from generation to generation.
I’d offered to redo the floors in Mayor Blanchette’s pantry. She’d said she hardly used the pantry, and it wasn’t worth the hassle. So, I offered to make her a new writing desk. The one she was currently using was small and clashed with the aspen interior. Instead, she had me clearing brush.
As I stood back trying to admire my work, I set my hand on the tool stand behind me. Maybe I leaned on it too. Then it all came crashing down. Luckily, I managed to catch myself and not smack my head on the corner of the stand. It could have been worse.
I stood and brushed myself off.
Well, at least now I know what I can create. I’ll build another tool stand.
I went into the house; start the job off well hydrated. Mayor Blanchette was in the living room. I kicked my boots clean against the threshold. “Good afternoon, Mayor. Feeling better?”
She looked at me from across her shoulder. “What was that racket?”
“I knocked over the tool stand. Nothing dramatic.” I went down the short entryway and turned in to the living room. “I cut the boughs of the…”
The surprise cut my sentence short.
Mayor Blanchette wasn’t alone. Her granddaughter, Ruby, was seated on the living room couch. The last person I expected to see, ever; I thought she’d gone away for good.
“Look who’s back in town,” said Mayor Blanchette.
“I see that,” I uttered under my breath.
Ruby looked away. She gripped a teacup nervously and ran her fingers around the brim.
“Why don’t you come over, sit awhile, join us for some tea and cookies?” Mayor Blanchette looked at me with an expression that told me her words were more of an order than an offer.
Only because she hadn’t been feeling well recently and I didn’t want to upset her did I go into the living room and take a seat next to her.
“Ruby’s come back just today,” said the Mayor. “And she brought me cookies and flowers. Isn’t that nice of her?”
Sure, giving gifts, real nice of her. Did she give you thirty pieces of silver along with those cookies and flowers?
Ruby turned to me. She tried to make eye contact, but she must have seen the ire in my eyes, and she looked down at the teacup in her hand.
“How long are you planning to stay?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I haven’t decided.”
“Well, Lincoln’s on the police force, now,” I said.
“Yeah, I ran into him earlier.”
“The arcade’s closed down. Magnolia Stables is now a cattle ranch.”
“Is it?” she said.
“Yeah, not much reason for you to stick around, it would seem.”
Mayor Blanchette looked at me crossly. I put my hand up, open palm out, in apology.
“And you?” she said, finally looking me in the eye. “I didn’t expect to find you here. I thought you’d be in Cheyenne or even Denver by now.”
“No,” I said curtly.
An awkward silence fell over the room. Mayor Blanchette handed me a plate of cookies. “Try one. They’re delicious. My daughter made them.” She looked over at Ruby and smiled. “With a little help.”
“Thanks. I’m not hungry.”
“Your loss,” she said as she set the plate back down.
I stood up.
“Where are you going?” said Mayor Blanchette. “You just got here. Sit.”
I looked from her to Ruby. “I’ve got work to do.” I walked outside completely forgetting why I had gone in in the first place.
The sun was starting to set. I stood on the front steps and watched the day give way to night. Ruby Davis. Just what I needed. I’ve got enough fresh wounds as it is. I don’t need the old ones being picked at.
