“I always feel a little odd in Western saddles. I ride in Connecticut,” he volunteered, and she nodded. “Are you from the West Coast?” He was intrigued by her, and the group she was traveling with. He had recognized Tanya immediately and wondered how Mary Stuart fitted into the entourage, but he didn't want to ask her.
“I'm from New York,” she said. “I just came out for two weeks.”
“So did I,” he said, looking very much at ease with her, as he smiled. “I come every year. My wife and I used to love it. This is the first time I've come back since she died.” Mary Stuart suspected it was hard for him, but he didn't say it. But she imagined that, having been there with someone before, it had to be lonely for him. “A lot of people come here from the East. It's really worth the trip. I come here for the mountains,” he confessed, glancing at them. In truth, they all did, even those who didn't know it. The others thought they came for the horses. “There's something very healing about them. I wasn't going to come again, and I didn't last year, but I found I just couldn't stay away. I needed to be here.” He said it pensively, as though surprised at himself for coming. “I normally prefer the ocean, but there's something magical about Wyoming, and these mountains.” She understood exactly what he meant. Ever since the day before, she had begun to feel it. It was part of why Jackson Hole had become so popular in recent years. It was like being drawn to Mecca.
“It's funny you should say that,” she confessed to him, feeling surprisingly comfortable with him, considering the fact that they were strangers. But he was so open. “I've felt it too. I felt it yesterday when we arrived. It's as though the mountains are waiting for you here… as though you can tell your troubles to them, and they're waiting to embrace you.” She was afraid it would sound silly to him, but he knew just what she meant as he nodded.
“It must be difficult for your friend,” he said gently. “I was watching the people in the dining room, they were transformed the moment she arrived, and without even meaning to, they became completely foolish. She doesn't get a moment without people reacting to her, wanting to be with her, taking her picture, trying to be a part of her aura.” It was an interesting analysis, but it was true, and it intrigued Mary Stuart that he saw it so clearly.
“It must be difficult for anyone who's well-known,” she said, not wanting to tell him that she had recognized him and read his last six books and loved them. She didn't want to appear starstruck. After being close to Tanya for all these years, she knew just how annoying it could be.
“It has its disadvantages.” And then he looked at Mary Stuart with a smile. He had understood perfectly that she knew him. “But I'm not in those leagues. Few are. There are probably only a handful of people in the world who have to put up with what she does. She seems to be very gracious about it.”
“She is,” Mary Stuart said staunchly.
“Do you work with her?” He didn't want to pry, but he wondered if the two women constantly at her side were her assistants.
“We were college roommates,” Mary Stuart explained with a smile.
“And you're still friends? How amazing. Now, there's a story,” and then he quickly explained himself before he could alarm her, “for a book, not the tabloids,” he specified, and they both laughed.
“Thank you. She gets such a rough break all the time. It's so unfair.”
“You stop being human to them the moment you're a star. You no longer matter, you become human garbage,” he said sadly, and Mary Stuart nodded.
“She calls it ‘life as an object.’ She says you become a thing, and anything they do to you then is allowed. She's put up with a lot. I don't know how she does it.”
“She must be strong,” and then he smiled at Mary Stuart, admiring her impeccable good looks. He loved her style, but he wouldn't have dared tell her. “She's fortunate to have good friends.”
“We're lucky to have her.” Mary Stuart smiled again. “It was really serendipity that we came here. It all kind of happened at the last minute.”
“How fortunate for the rest of us,” he said. “The three of you certainly improve the landscape.” He glanced from her to Tanya, looking glorious, as she loped easily along beside the wrangler, but Mary Stuart noticed that they weren't talking, just riding. “She's an incredible-looking woman.” He couldn't help but admire her, and Mary Stuart nodded with a smile, completely without envy. “I really enjoy her music. I have all of her CD's,” he admitted, looking slightly embarrassed, and Mary Stuart laughed as she smiled at him.
“I have all your books.” She blushed as she said it.
“Do you?” He looked pleased and held a hand out to her and introduced himself, though it was obviously not necessary, just good manners. “Hartley Bowman.”
“I'm Mary Stuart Walker.” They shook hands across their horses’ necks, and rode on together comfortably. Tanya and the wrangler were far ahead by then, the trio of doctors bringing up the rear, discussing articles and research, and some new research that had been done recently in oncology at Mass General.
Mary Stuart and Hartley chatted for a while, about books, and New York, the literary scene, other authors, and Europe, when she said her daughter was studying in Paris. They seemed to touch on a wealth of subjects, and they were both surprised when the wrangler turned slowly around and led them back to the corral. It was lunchtime. Hartley and Mary Stuart were still chatting when they dismounted. And she noticed an odd look on Tanya's face when she got off Big Max and handed the reins to the wrangler.
“Are you okay?” she asked as Tanya walked over to join them, and she introduced her to Hartley.
“I'm fine. But our wrangler is really strange. He absolutely would not say one word to me. We just rode out, and then back. He acted like I had bubonic plague or something. He hates me.” Mary Stuart laughed at her analysis of the situation. She had never met a man who hated Tanya, certainly not at first meeting.
“Maybe he's shy,” Mary Stuart volunteered. He looked pleasant enough. He just wasn't very chatty.
“A lot of them are,” Hartley explained. “The first few days they barely say hello, and by the time you leave, you feel like brothers. They're not used to all this big-city stuff, and they're not as chatty as we are,” he said, and Tanya looked at him with a smile.
“I thought I'd said something to offend him.” Tanya looked slightly worried.
“I suspect Liz told him to behave himself with you, not to say too much. It's got to be pretty impressive for these guys to be around a big star like you,” he grinned and looked like a kid then, gray hair and all, “it even makes me tremble a little. I have all your CD's, Miss Thomas, and I love them.”
“I've read your books, and I like them too.” She smiled at him. It always amazed her when someone important was impressed with her. She never completely understood it. “I like them a lot.” They both looked shy with each other, uncomfortable with their own success to a degree. Each of them were stars in their own right. He seemed much more at ease with Mary Stuart than with Tanya, and then Zoe joined them, saying she'd had a great morning. She'd really enjoyed talking to the two doctors. And Mary Stuart introduced her to Hartley.
“What's your specialty?” he asked amiably as they wandered back toward their cabins to wash up before lunch.
“AIDS,” she said simply, “and related problems. I run a clinic in San Francisco.” He nodded. He'd been thinking about doing a book about it, but he'd been dragging his feet about doing the research. It seemed so depressing. But he was obviously fascinated by what she did, and asked her a great many questions. And he seemed sorry to leave them at their cabin, and said he'd see them at lunchtime. He went off on his own, head down, looking pensive, as he walked toward his cabin, and Tanya watched him.