Ariel's Crossing - Bradford Morrow [163]
“Probably a stupid idea.”
He hesitated, said, “Probably.”
“I guess your life would have turned out a lot differently if you’d had all those children you wanted.”
“Guess you’re right about that.”
“Let’s just say the ranch was a child. Even if you’d been able to raise it to maturity, you know there’d still come the day when you’d have to let it go.”
Delfino shifted his weight and hitched his shotgun up onto the saddle of his hip. “What’s all this talk about children, anyhow?”
“Just thinking aloud.”
“You never had any, did you?”
Ariel laughed uncomfortably.
“You will, though.”
“I never thought of myself as much of a mother type.”
“What type do you think of yourself as being?”
“I don’t know.”
“Oh, go on. You’re way too smart not to have some idea about who you are.”
“I thought I was the one who was supposed to be asking you the forward questions.”
“Go ahead.”
“You got to know Kip a little. Why’s he so afraid of me?”
“That’s how you suss it out.”
“You see it some other way?”
“He told me he thought you might be afraid of him, or disgusted with him, or like that.”
“Not disgusted.”
“Afraid, though.”
“Everything’s worthy of fear.”
“That’s probably why you’re so courageous about things.”
“Oh, no you don’t. I’m terrified. About everything. There’s nothing I’m not afraid of right now. I’ve never been so afraid in my whole life. You don’t get to take that away from me.”
“Not trying to. I happen to disagree, is all.”
Beautiful old man, she thought, as she’d thought before—or no, she’d thought something like that about Granna. Too bad Agnes hadn’t been able to bear them their dozen kids.
“I don’t like your gun,” she said.
“Neither do I.”
“Look, Delfino. I’m trying not to be afraid of Kip.”
“You should be, and shouldn’t.”
“That’s not saying much.”
“That’s saying it all. Any good thing in this life is to be feared and not feared. Doubted and trusted. Anything you’re not afraid of isn’t worth the time even thinking about. I’m a whipped dog. You should listen to me because of that, if nothing else.”
They heard movement out toward the north, beyond the farthest skeleton outbuilding of the old rancho, and also some scuttering stone down in the basin below where the sergeant had withdrawn hours before. Neither spoke to the fact, other than perhaps through a separate conversation of tightening grips and involuntary catching of breath. Each was either too afraid or too dauntless to speak to these little incursions, it didn’t matter whether or which.
Delfino did, however, shock Ariel by asking, “Why would you even consider scrapping your kid?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Marcos told you.”
“No, sixth sense. I saw how nauseated you were riding in here, even though you tried to hide it. Saw you getting sick and then well again real fast. I might not have kids of my own, but I been around. Anybody planning on having a baby wouldn’t do what you’re doing.”
Ariel sighed.
“So, why scrap it? Doesn’t make sense.”
“That’s a pretty personal question.”
“I thought we were having a forward talk. What’s to lose?”
Ariel didn’t ease her grip on Delfino’s arm. “You mean by your asking that question, or by my having a kid?”
“Kid.”
“Pretty much everything. My life, my freedom, my days.”
“Nights, too. So I hear.”
“My nights.”
“Your mind.”
She laughed. “Yes. Definitely my mind.”
“What else.”
“That isn’t enough?”
“I’m sure there’s more. Like your loneliness, selfishness, things like that.”
“Did Kip ever tell you why he did what he did?”
“Ask him yourself. What I do know is that he wouldn’t want you to walk his same path. And by the way, Ariel?”
“Yes?”
“Ranches aren’t children. I appreciate the idea. But they’re just rocks and wood and nails and glass and boundary markers.”
“You don’t believe that.”
“Starting to.”
“Maybe it would be better if you thought about it both ways.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that if you—” but the voices behind them cut through the night like the onset of a sudden fever. No sooner did they turn around than someone spoke loudly from down in the