"I'm easy," Anna said.
"I doubt that," he returned and there was that in his voice that would've made Anna blush if she'd been the blushing kind. He confiscated her water pitcher and began arranging the flowers with an expert domesticity that seemed natural to him. "My wife is a decorator-was a decorator," he amended and ducked his head to his work so Anna couldn't read his face.
"Yellow rose of Texas," Anna said. She could see the smile wrinkle the skin high on his cheekbone. "What am I to keep quiet about?"
He stopped his deft fiddling and looked straight at her, his gray eyes unwavering. "That stretch of trail above Turtle Rock should've been brushed and leveled. I've been meaning to send someone up to do it. I put it off. You could've been killed. It's fixed now. Nothing like shutting the barn door after the cows get out."
Anna was touched, tears again threatening. Damn the drugs, she thought, choosing to blame chemistry rather than psychology. "I've been around the block, as they say. If I haven't learned to watch my step by now it's nobody's fault but my own."
"Anyway," he drew the word out like a man anxious to change the subject. "I was in town and, I must confess, I couldn't resist the temptation to have conversation with someone who, politically speaking, is somewhat to the left of Yippi Ti Yi Yo."
Anna smiled. It still hurt. "A Texas liberal. I thought that was a contradiction in terms."
Harland sank down on the foot of the bed. Even that small jolt sent an ache reverberating through Anna's bruised innards. Still she hoped the nurse wouldn't come and shoo him into the red plastic chair.
"I'm not from Texas," Harland said.
Anna was surprised. "You drawl," she accused, raising a speculative eyebrow. That hurt, too.
" Pensacola, Florida. Navy brat."
"You've been around the block and around the world?"
He laughed, a rich male noise that warmed Anna's cracked bones like good brandy. "I've done this and that," he admitted.
"Tell me," Anna said. "I could use a good bedtime story."
He obliged with tales of "wrassling 'gators" and serving as general dogsbody at a roadside SEE OUR DEADLY POISON SNAKES attraction in Florida to work his way through college; of going to Vietnam to fight for democracy and spending three years procuring Japanese kimonos and Russian vodka for officers and their wives; of kicking around the States trying his hand at leading canoe trips, hunting expeditions, working for the YMCA; of finally finding a home with the Park Service.
Harland stayed nearly an hour. Anna was sorry when, shortly before supper, the nurse shooed him out.
Mechanically Anna ate a color-coordinated meal consisting of the four basic food groups, all of which tasted pretty much the same. She asked the LVN-a high school girl with over-processed hair and a sweet, slightly vacant face-if the food was vacu-formed by Mattel. For her attempt at levity, Anna got an empty smile. However, the girl was willing to smuggle in a cup of coffee with honest-to-God caffeine so Anna forgave her, her shortcomings.
Fortified by food and stimulants, she opened the autopsy report on Ranger Drury. Much of it was chemical analyses that meant little to her. After a cursory look through, she turned to the summation and comments on the last page.
Ranger Drury had died between seven p.m. and midnight on Friday, June 17. The cause of death was perforation of the spinal cord between the fourth and fifth cervical vertebrae. The puncture wound, one and a half inches deep, was found to have traces of animal fur at the opening and, one inch down, a fragment of a tooth from a large carnivore. There were three other puncture wounds three-quarters to one inch deep in a pattern consistent with the size of an adult lion's bite. Several animal hairs were found in the scrapes along the shoulder. There were no broken bones or other signs of trauma. Stomach contents included an incompletely digested pear and salami and cheese.
The only other item of interest was a trace of a hallucinogen which had been found in Sheila's blood. Possibly LSD.
In college Anna had dropped some Window Pane acid at Avila Beach. The world became a totally different place. Backpacking without water, in a closed area-all could become logical seen through that distorted glass. There was no knowing what rainbow the Dog Canyon Ranger had been chasing or what demons she had been running from.
Paul had underlined the final sentence: "Death accidentaclass="underline" killed by a mountain lion (Felis concolor)."
Anna laid the papers on her lap and leaned back into her pillows. No plaster casts to make prints, no garden tools masquerading as lion's claws, no wilderness Moriarity planning the perfect murder; just one lady ranger with an overheated imagination and an affinity for cats.
"Killed by a mountain lion (Felis concolor)." Anna read the words again, then let the papers slip to the floor. She hurt. She was a fool. Her collarbone was broken. She was skinned up from neck to knees. She was old and alone.
"Goddamn, but I'm tired," Anna whispered. Though it was only seven thirty-five, she switched off the bedside lamp and closed her eyes.
14
"PAUL told me to take all the time I needed," Anna said into the phone receiver. "I hate to seem paranoid but from the way he said it, I think he wants to be rid of me for a while."
Feet tucked under her like a teenager, Anna was curled up on Christina's bed. One of the midnight kittens was asleep on the pillow between a fuzzy polar bear and a doll dressed in flounces and a picture hat that would have put Scarlett O'Hara to shame.
Anna's left arm was in a sling and both hands were lightly bandaged. She held the receiver of the peach-colored Princess phone against her ear with her fingertips.
"Take it," Molly commanded. "Two weeks at least. Get the hell out of there. I knew bucolic splendor was bad for the health. Come to New York. We'll send out for deli, take in some shows. We'll avoid stairs, take only elevators. There won't be anything for you to fall off of."
Molly sounded annoyed. Every time Anna hurt herself her sister got mad at her. "Maybe I will," Anna said but she doubted it. She was feeling too old, too beat-up to face Manhattan even on her sister's income. Probably she would go to Rogelio's place in Mexico. He'd invited her often enough. Perhaps now was the time to go. Maybe bake him a birthday cake. Thinking of him, Anna's promise to pay better attention crossed her mind.
"Molly," she said on impulse, "how are you doing? Are you happy and everything?"
The moment of stunned silence embarrassed Anna more deeply than any recrimination her sister might have made.
"I'm all right, I guess," Molly said at last. There followed the pregnant pause of a match finding tobacco, the sigh of relief. Molly laughed. "My fees have gotten so high I can't afford to ask myself how I feel."
"I'll ask again," Anna promised. "On the family discount."
After they'd hung up, Anna sat a while in the quiet of Christina's room. Outside the high window of the government-issue house the sky had grown gray with evening. A star flashed, giving away its identity as a 747.
The room was very feminine, traditionally so, with ruffles and stuffed toys, dresser scarves, bottles of perfume on a mirrored dressing table, framed Arthur Rackham prints on the walls. But Anna liked it. All the things: the silver-backed hairbrush, the basket full of potpourri, the glass jewelry box with the unicorn engraved on the lid, all the toys and tchotchkes seemed honest. Items with meaning acquired throughout a life. Not decor purchased in bulk and sprinkled to effect.
Anna scooped up the kitten. Being limited to the use of one hand, she dangled him a bit and he woke, but within seconds on her lap curled back into his catnap. Soft and trusting, the warmth of the little body under her hand soothed her.
She'd been out of the hospital two days. She was healing fast. Painkillers helped her sleep. Real food was giving her back her strength. She'd even managed to go into the ranger station for a couple of hours.