When the Wind Blows

  Matt grinned at him, knowing Dan was being pressured by Claire Jennings and the Sandlers. “Going job hunting?”

  “Maybe,” Dan said, “maybe not. What about it? Going to give Juan a try?”

  “Why not?” Matt shrugged. “I can show him where to drill, then put the stuff in myself.”

  Juan smiled happily and clapped his hands. “I’ll be careful,” he said. “You’ll see. I’ll be real careful.”

  “Okay. Tell you what. Come down to my place tomorrow, and we’ll load up the truck. All right?”

  Juan nodded. “Okay.”

  “Slow down,” Dan protested. “I want someone to look at that cave before you do anything. Let’s hold off for a few days, okay?”

  “Anything you say,” Matt agreed.

  “And I’ll talk to Esperanza. In the meantime I don’t think either of us should mention the cave. You know how people gossip around here.”

  * * *

  In the gloom of the Church of the Savior that stood on the edge of Shacktown, Dan Gurley could make out the figures of several people praying. He found Esperanza in the front row, on her knees. He touched her shoulder, and she looked up at him, startled. He signaled her to follow him out of the church. She crossed herself once more, then got to her feet.

  When they were outside, Dan asked her about the cave. Her dark eyes filled with terror.

  “Madre de Dios,” she muttered. Then, her face pale, she scurried back inside, leaving Dan alone on the street.

  Christie sat in the tub, enjoying the feel of the water as Diana sluiced it over her. Being given a bath, she had finally decided, wasn’t so bad after all. All you had to do was lie there and keep your eyes closed when your face and hair were being washed. And as long as she didn’t cry her splashing didn’t seem to bother Diana anymore.

  What bothered her was living in Diana’s room. Even though she hated the nursery, sometimes she missed it. Up there she had at least been by herself sometimes.

  Now she was never by herself, except for a few minutes this afternoon when she had managed to sneak up to the nursery while Diana was on the telephone.

  Her things were gone, even her photo album.

  Someone—Miss Edna, she thought—had taken them out of the nursery and hidden them somewhere. Maybe if she told Aunt Diana about it, she could get them back.

  “Aunt Diana?” she asked.

  “Hmm?”

  “What happened to my things?”

  “What things, honey?”

  “Stuff like my album. I can’t find it.”

  “Isn’t it in the nursery?” Diana asked.

  Christie shook her head. “I looked, but it isn’t there.”

  Diana frowned. She didn’t have the slightest idea what Christie was talking about. What album? The Amber family had never kept an album.

  Late that night, Edna Amber climbed wearily to the third floor and let herself into the nursery.

  She sat in the rocking chair for a while, her mind blank, her eyes wandering over the furnishings of the room. Slowly thoughts began to form in her mind, and soon she found herself remembering the days when Diana had been a child.

  When had Diana begun forgetting?

  Edna didn’t know. Over the years the past had become confused for her, and she knew that, fight it as she tried, some of Diana’s madness had worn off on her.

  And madness, she was finally admitting to herself, was what it was.

  In the terrible honesty that comes with old age she realized that it was her own fault.

  She had been too hard on Diana. She should never have let the rage she felt against her child vent itself. But it was either that or go crazy herself, and for a long time it looked as if Diana was going to be all right.

  And then, one day nearly thirty years ago, Diana had come in after an afternoon of riding. Her clothes had been torn, and her face was smudged with dirt.

  Edna had asked her what had happened, but Diana had only looked at her fearfully, burst into tears and run up to the nursery. She had locked the door and had not come out again until the next day. And on the next day, when Edna had again asked her what had happened, Diana had seemed puzzled.

  “Happened when?” she had asked.

  “Yesterday,” Edna had replied. “When you came home from riding, you were a mess.”

  Diana’s eyes had remained puzzled. “But I didn’t go out riding yesterday,” she had said. “I was in my room all day long.”

  No matter how hard Edna had badgered her, she had never wavered from her story.

  The months had gone by, and it had soon become obvious that Diana was pregnant.

  But she wouldn’t admit it.

  Finally, when the pregnancy had become undeniable, and Diana still refused to acknowledge that it was happening, Edna had taken charge. And Diana, happily spending her days in the nursery, acquiesced to all of Edna’s suggestions.

  She stopped going out, stopped seeing her friends, stopped calling them. When they came to visit, Edna told them that Diana had gone away for a while.

  In a way it was true.

  As the pregnancy developed, and Diana continued to ignore it, Edna realized that somehow her daughter had split part of herself away. Diana, Edna realized, had simply decided she was not pregnant.

  Very quietly Edna set about finding out who the father was. It hadn’t been difficult—one of the ranch hands, a man named Travers, began hanging around the house, and eventually Edna spoke to him.

  It was his idea that he was going to marry Diana.

  Edna paid him off and sent him packing.

  It was her pride that kept her from sending Diana away or even seeing a doctor.

  To Edna, as to Diana, pregnancy without marriage was worse than death. When the baby came, Edna would see to it that it was disposed of.

  And then the baby came.

  Somehow Edna had managed.

  The night it was born, the wind had blown, and Diana, unprepared for what was to happen, had had a difficult time.

  Near dawn, she had given birth to a baby daughter, a beautiful child.

  After the child was born, Edna had taken it to the nursery and put it in a bassinet. And the child had begun crying.

  When Diana woke up, after sleeping through the next day, the baby was still crying.

  Diana ignored the sound.

  Edna asked if Diana wanted to see her baby.

  “What baby?”

  Edna bit her lip.

  “Your baby, Diana. Your baby girl. Don’t you want to see her?”

  From the nursery, the baby’s crying was clearly audible.

  “I don’t know what you mean, Mama,” Diana said.

  Edna, unsure of what to do, did nothing. She left Diana’s room and went upstairs to tend to the baby.

  But the baby, as if sensing its mother’s rejection, kept crying.

  The crying went on for four days, and on the fifth day, the wind began to blow again.

  That night, Edna woke up from a fitful sleep and listened to the sound of the wind screaming down from the mountains. She listened for the baby, but couldn’t hear it crying.

  She went up to the nursery to be sure it was all right.

  The cradle was empty.

  She went downstairs again to the guest room, where Diana had delivered her baby and was now living.

  It, too, was empty.

  Edna searched the house, then went out into the night. She began walking toward the mine. Halfway there she met Diana coming down the road, her nightgown covered with a robe, which she clutched tightly against the wind.

  There was a strange look in her eyes, and she didn’t speak until Edna had led her back to the house. Then, when she was back in her bed, she looked up into her mother’s eyes.

  “It’s the strangest thing,” she said. “Did you know that when the wind blows like this, you can hear something?”

  “What?” Edna asked, though she knew the answer.

  “A baby crying,” Diana said, “But it?
??s stopped now. I made it stop.” Then she drifted off to sleep.

  Edna Amber sat up all night that night, trying to decide what to do. By dawn she made up her mind.

  She would do nothing, and spend the rest of her life taking care of her daughter.

  She would not have to live in shame, nor would Diana.

  She was sure she could do it: Diana hadn’t the slightest idea of what had happened, and Edna could only pray that she would never remember.

  Edna would protect her and take care of her. After all, Diana was all she had, and she loved her.

  Besides, there was no way to bring the baby back.

  Edna came back to the present and glanced once more around the nursery, still remembering.

  It had worked.

  The years had gone by, and Diana had insisted on keeping the nursery just as it was. She was saving it, she said, for the time when she would get married and have a baby of her own. But really, Edna knew, Diana had kept the nursery for herself. At times she had even slept in the nursery, holding the teddy bear to her breast, cradling it as a mother cradles a child.

  Edna controlled Diana’s life as best she could, and for a long time things were all right. There had been the problem with Bill Henry, and then, ten years ago, the two nights Diana had spent in the hospital in Pueblo. But except for that, the years had not been bad.

  Edna had coped.

  But now it was coming apart. Diana was remembering.

  Edna looked around the nursery once more and decided that it was time for it, too, to be taken apart.

  When Diana took Christie away for the camping trip, she would begin.

  Then, when the nursery was dismantled, she would decide what to do about Diana.

  Edna knew in her heart that the time had come when Diana could no longer be controlled.

  But Diana was still her daughter, and she wanted to put off what she must do as long as she could.

  Besides, the wind wasn’t blowing, and when the wind didn’t blow, Diana was all right.

  It was late in the season. Maybe the wind wouldn’t blow again that year.

  And maybe Christie wouldn’t cry.

  25

  Two days later three men from Denver—a geologist and two archeologists from the university—arrived in Amberton. Matt Crowley led them up to the cave, then waited while the three men did their work.

  While the geologist examined the tunnel, one of the archeologists put on a wet suit and scuba gear and, with the aid of a rope, descended into the pool at the bottom of the shaft.

  The water, cold and crystal clear, was deeper than the diver had expected. The pile of bones lay twentyfive feet below the surface.

  Though he worked quickly, depositing the bones in plastic bags, then sending them to the surface on a second rope, his air supply was nearly exhausted when he finally finished the job and returned to the surface. A few minutes later the three scientists emerged from the cave.

  “Well?” Matt asked.

  The geologist spoke first.

  “It’s a natural cave. Nothing more than a fissure in the sandstone. The water’s been collecting for centuries, but it’s rain water, seeping in from above.”

  “What’s that mean as far as the mine’s concerned?”

  The geologist shrugged. “Nothing much. When you blow it, the cave’ll probably collapse and dump the water into the mine, but it won’t do much damage. If you’re worried about tapping into a spring or something, you can stop—the mine would have flooded years ago if there were something like that down there.”

  Satisfied, Matt turned to the archeologists. “What about the bones? Are they human?”

  The archeologist who had hauled the bones up after his partner collected them nodded. “They’re human, at least all the ones I’ve gotten a look at. Babies, not more than a few days old, if that. Their skull plates hadn’t even fused when they were dumped in here.”

  “How old are they?”

  The archeologist shrugged. “Can’t say for sure. A hundred years—probably a lot more. But they’re not recent, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ll know better tomorrow, when we’ve had a chance to spread ’em out and look at ’em.” He glanced at the mouth of the cave, nearly hidden behind the shrubbery. “When you planning to blow it?”

  “Couple of days,” Matt said. “We been holding off till you guys got here. Any point in waiting?”

  The archeologists shook their heads, and the diver spoke. “Not as far as I can see. I got everything out of the pool.”

  “And I got the rest,” the other one added. “There’s nothing on the walls, and the bones on the ground aren’t anything. Doesn’t look like anybody ever lived in the cave. Still,” he added, “it’d be nice to excavate it.”

  “It’ll never happen,” Matt said. “The woman who owns the property wants it blown as soon as possible.”

  The scientists packed their gear, and they all started down the trail. When they reached the mine, Esperanza Rodriguez was sitting on the porch of the cabin, watching them with angry eyes. Matt Crowley waved to her, but instead of returning the greeting, she only went inside the cabin and shut the door.

  “What’s eating her?” the geologist asked.

  Matt hesitated, then decided to say nothing. These men were strangers to him, and he liked Esperanza. He didn’t want to expose her to ridicule.

  “She just likes to keep to herself,” he said.

  When the men from Denver were gone, Matt drove into town to tell Dan Gurley what had been found.

  “You tell anybody about the bones?” Dan asked when Matt was done. Matt shook his head.

  “Figured we might as well wait till we knew what they were,” he said. “No sense stirring up the town.”

  Dan nodded his agreement. “Then let’s keep it that way. With two kids dead, no telling what might happen if this got out. Okay?”

  “Fine. Can I start setting the dynamite tomorrow?”

  “Okay by me. You still going to have Juan help you?”

  “Sure,” Matt replied. “Why not?”

  “I dunno,” Dan said thoughtfully. “I just have a feeling that Esperanza isn’t going to like it. She might not let Juan do it.”

  Matt grinned. “And he might not tell her he’s going to,” he said.

  The next day Jeff Crowley appeared at the Ambers’.

  By noon, Diana was in the barn, helping the two children saddle the horses that would carry them up to the aspen grove. A fourth horse would carry their gear, and it was that horse that was giving them trouble.

  “It’s going to fall off,” Jeff remarked as he looked at the old mare, which was loaded down with sleeping bags, a tarp, boxes of food, and an ice chest.

  “If it’s tied right, it’ll be fine,” Diana told him. “Pull the rope tighter.”

  Jeff tugged at the rope, and the horse stamped its feet and whinnied angrily.

  “What are we going to cook on?” Christie asked. “Do you have a stove?”

  “We’ll build a fire,” Jeff told her. “We’re going camping, stupid.”

  “Don’t you call me stupid,” Christie flared.

  “Then don’t ask dumb questions. Haven’t you ever been camping?” Jeff was feeling like an expert, having gone hunting with his father the winter before.

  “What if I haven’t?”

  “Oh, brother,” Jeff muttered. He had a feeling that he should have stayed home—everyone knew that girls weren’t any good on camp-outs.

  Diana, pleased that the spat had died a natural death before she’d had to do something about it, tied the last knot, then checked the load to be sure it was balanced properly. “Okay, let’s take the horses outside.”

  The children scrambled onto the horses, and as they emerged from the barn Diana glanced toward the house. Her mother, who had stayed in her room all morning, was still nowhere to be seen. For a moment Diana considered going into the house to see if she was all right, but she was sure that if she did, Edna would find some re
ason why she must stay with her.

  “Let’s go,” Diana called. Holding the lead for the pack horse, she led them out of the corral.

  From the house, Edna watched them go. She scanned the sky and nodded to herself. So far, there were no clouds piled up over the mountains, and the weather report that morning had not mentioned any storms coming in from the west. Maybe everything was going to be all right. Only when the little caravan was out of sight did she start up the stairs to the third floor.

  She looked around the nursery, wondering where to start.

  The toys.

  She found a box and began putting the stuffed animals into it. She held each one of them for a moment.

  They were all left over from Diana’s childhood.

  Diana, unlike most children, had never put her toys away. Instead she had always kept them in the nursery, even after she had finally moved downstairs, and Edna, afraid of upsetting Diana, had never objected to it. But now the teddy bear, its fabric beginning to rot and smelling of years of dust, seemed ready to fall apart.

  Edna piled the stuffed bear and all his friends into the box, then took down the paper bird that was suspended over the crib. That, too, went into the box.

  She took the last of Christie’s clothes out of the closet and wondered what to do with them.

  The guest room. She smiled bitterly as she realized that even though Diana had occupied it for thirty years, she still thought of it as the guest room.

  She would put Christie’s things in the guest room, and after Diana was gone, Christie could keep it. She would decide what to do with Diana’s things later.

  The curtains—those white lace curtains that looked so pretty half a century ago—fell into shreds as Edna took them down. They, too, went into the box with the toys.

  Edna took the box down the hall, unlocked the storage room, and opened it. She pulled the string, and as the light went on she gasped.

  The floor of the storage room was covered with the shredded remains of what had been the Lyons family album.

  “That poor child,” Edna murmured to herself, but even as she uttered the words she wasn’t sure whether they were for Christie or for Diana. She put the box from the nursery on a shelf, then began cleaning up the mess on the floor.