Kevin Anderson - Ill Wind

Iris recovered from her surprise with remarkable speed; a grin spread across her face. “Well, well. The cowboy can think for himself. But I believe you’re jumping to conclusions.” She held up a damp dishrag in her free hand. “I was just getting something to wipe up the mess on the carpet.”

As she bent down, Iris knocked over the white wine she had set on the gray-blue rug. “Oh, crap.” She picked up the clear plastic cup and dabbed at the seeping damp spot. Todd grabbed a handful of paper napkins and knelt to help her blot up the stain.

“You wouldn’t make much of a ballerina yourself,” he said.

She gave a low laugh. “ Touché .”

When they had mopped up as much as they could, Todd straightened. Iris brushed back her hair and was silent for a moment before she finally said, “I’m going to get another glass of wine. Want a beer?” It seemed to take an effort. “Then you can help me eat some of these carrot sticks.”

Todd blinked. “Sure.”

They went to stand by the sliding glass doors to the patio. A panoramic view of the Marin hills spread out in the late afternoon. The horse corral took up most of Kramer’s back yard. A thicket of Ponderosa pine started fifty yards from the house and spread up the hills.

Iris spoke first. “You know, before this oil spill people would have lynched you for even suggesting the idea of spraying Prometheus microbes in a populated area.”

He shrugged. “You do what you have to do. In an emergency, you can’t just sit around and wait for committees to sort everything out.” He nodded toward her. “I appreciate your help.”

“I wasn’t there to help you. I was representing the state’s interests.”

“Right.” He sipped his beer and looked around. After a moment he said, “Know anybody else here?”

Iris shrugged. “I recognize a few of the scientists, but I don’t really pal around with oil company employees.”

The silence was awkward for some seconds before Todd spoke again. “So what do you people see in California? You don’t really like it here, do you?”

She seemed to think over her answer. “I enjoy my work.”

“I didn’t ask about that.”

She glanced up. “In my line of work, you go where the jobs are. We can’t all live in Texas, you know.”

“I’m from Wyoming, not Texas. But we wouldn’t want the crowds, anyway.”

They spent the rest of the hour talking. Although she attempted to come across as tough as nails, Iris opened up once Todd steered her away from talking about academia and her Stanford connections.

By the time he finished his third beer, many people began drifting away from the party to get home for dinner, as if at some secret signal. Todd didn’t want to leave, but he began to grow more self-conscious as he saw others departing, calling goodbyes to Alex until he and Iris were the only two left. Outside, the sunset flashed diffusing colors across the sky.

Alex stepped back through the glass patio doors, looking around as if checking to see whether it was safe. Todd and Iris both looked up at him. “Excuse me.” Kramer smiled sheepishly. “I’m not usually fond of cocktail parties, but my wife hosted them sometimes. She must have been better at it than I am—people never used to leave before midnight.”

Iris drew herself up. “Well, I’ve got quite a drive back to Stanford. Thank you for inviting me, Dr. Kramer. Glad we had a chance to talk, Todd.”

“Me too.” He was quiet for a moment. “Uh, look. How about grabbing some supper? All I’ve eaten is rabbit food tonight: celery, carrots—”

“I’ve really got to get back to the lab before heading home.” She hesitated. “Some other time?”

“Right.” Todd tried not to let his disappointment show, but at least she hadn’t blown him completely off. He didn’t know any of the restaurants out here anyway—and if he found one, they probably served only California cuisine, where a plate of diced eggplant and bean curd next to a boiled new potato and a sprig of steamed broccoli passed as a meal. He’d like to show Iris a good steak house, but then she probably didn’t eat meat.

Todd wasn’t sure why he felt drawn to her. She was at least fifteen years younger than he, shorter by over a foot, and had a sharp tongue—nothing like the women he was used to dating, who were impressed by rough-and-tumble oilmen. He stared at her as she gathered a black sweater and waved briefly at him. Todd watched her open the door, and debated following her. He knew he was bad at picking up on signals. Maybe if he asked again—no, she would probably just turn him down. She closed the door behind her, leaving Todd feeling awkwardly alone.

Alex looked at him, then glanced away. He struck Todd as a lonely old man. “Come on outside, Todd,” Alex said, “and I’ll show you the stable.” He drained his wine glass and struggled to his feet from the sofa. The sound of horses came through the open patio doors. Everything seemed serene and peaceful out here. It reminded him of his parents’ ranch.

Todd thought about the horses, but not wanting to invite himself, he controlled the eagerness in his voice. “Well, haven’t I overstayed my welcome? I ought to get back to my condo—”

“Nonsense,” said Alex. “It’s not like there’s anybody around here for you to bother.” He brushed his hand over his neat iron-gray beard and gave a weak smile. “You helped me a lot today, so stay a while. Let’s go check the horses.”

“Are you going to ride?”

Alex thought for a long moment. “Why not? It’ll be dark before long, but they know their way around here. It’ll only take a minute to saddle them up.”

Todd followed him out of the house to the corral. Dry grass crunched beneath their feet. Alex held open the gate, but as he tried to yank it shut, he hung his head as if he had just felt a wave of sadness. Todd pulled the gate shut himself. “You okay, Alex? You don’t look so hot.”

“I’m fine.” Alex shuffled to the stable, as if embarrassed that Todd had noticed his momentary lapse.

Wiping his hands on his jeans, Todd approached the two horses. Who would have thought the scholarly introvert kept horses? “How long have you had them?”

It took a moment for Alex to answer. “My daughter Erin was wild about horses. Got her a pony on her eighth birthday, and when she was fourteen I gave her that chocolate quarter-horse over there, Stimpy. I guess it’s been four years, now. We used to take them out a couple times a week.”

“I didn’t think of you as the riding type.”

Alex fumbled in his pocket for a sugar cube and approached the nearest horse, the palomino; he held a bit and bridle in his other hand. “This used to be a large part of my life, but I haven’t had much time lately. The horses probably need the exercise as much as I do.” The palomino nuzzled Alex’s hand, and the sugar cube disappeared. Alex quickly bridled the horse and held the reins out to Todd. “This is Ren, my horse. Go ahead.”

“Do your kids still ride much? I think I saw their pictures in one of the rooms.”

Alex froze, then answered in a hollow, curt voice. “Both Erin and Jay are dead.”

Todd squirmed, feeling as if he had shoved his cowboy boot into his mouth all the way up to the heel. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t know.”

“It’s all right. I’m over it now,” Alex said in a controlled tone that contradicted his words. “I’m just glad you’re here to help exercise the horses.”

They saddled the two mounts in an awkward silence, then Todd swung up onto the palomino. Alex seemed protective of his daughter’s mount.

Ren felt poised beneath Todd’s legs, ready to respond. The feel of the horse beneath him awakened memories. He had spent much of his younger years riding, comfortable with his own horse, working hard on the ranch. He had forgotten how much he missed it, how little time he had to do what he liked while he ran around the world fixing Oilstar’s emergencies.