Horsepeople

Chapter Twenty-Two

Jo stared at the fine-grain wood of a Hotel table, not a single thought able to make its way through the sludge that was her mind. As she predicted, she was paying for her actions now. On the way home, they had set a fast pace—rarely walking—in order to make it home for dinner. Both Jo and Will had been excited about what they'd seen, but as they descended the Look Out Hill and Jo's relief to be home relaxed her in the saddle, she felt whatever had been sustaining her evaporate. By the time they came to the Hotel, Jo was swaying in her saddle, both hands gripping its horn. Cricket had weaved side-to-side trying to stay under her rider; a weaving that made the situation worse.

"Hell, boss," Will had said, grabbing Cricket's reins and steadying her, "I'll take the horses to the barn... you just try not to fall off your chair."

She was trying, and staring at the table was helping.

Emerging from the swinging doors of the kitchen, Beady took one look at her, said: "Aiye, you don't look too good!" and disappeared back into the kitchen. A minute later, plate and mug in hand, she sat next to Jo and bade her eat.

"Beady..."

For a moment Jo forgot about the bison and how excited she was to tell Beady about them. Instead, for a moment, Jo looked at the old woman and her creased brown skin, the smile lines spidering out from her eyes, her wide mouth, and simply felt happy for her. One of Beady's hands lay on the table and Jo covered it with her own, giving it a small squeeze. There was so much Jo wanted to tell her, if she could just find the words.

Beady stiffened; she had never felt close to Joanna and her touch was unsolicited. But the girl had disappeared for three days and something was off about her now. Usually Beady found Jo guarded and terse, but her face was now was clear and open. Emotions washed over her face—gladness, sadness—uninhibited and childlike. Beady was curious what this transparent Joanna would show of herself.

"I'm sorry," Jo said.

"For what?"

Jo shrugged, "That this place can't mean to you what it does for me. For all that happened so that it can't. I'm sorry."

Beady patted the hand on top of her own and gave her a consoling smile. She couldn't, however, bring herself to tell her that it was okay—because it wasn't—or that it wasn't her fault—because it could have been. Joanna's clinging to Lille, her idolization of it, proved that it could have been her fault.

"But that's what I wanted to tell you!" Jo said, slapping her free hand on her leg. Jo's words were slurred and she swayed in her seat. However, there was no lingering smell of alcohol—where would she have gotten it anyway?—on her breath and Beady glanced at the door, wondering if she could leave Jo long enough to fetch Maryanne. Instead she gripped both Jo's hands, holding her steady.

"Aahsa? What do you want to tell me?" It was disconcerting for Beady to see Jo so vulnerable. Jo was always strong and always knew what to do. She had brought them all here. It was part of the reason Beady resented her; she was old, frail, and had not been the one to guide her people. Maybe a small part of her had always wanted to see Jo brought low, or for her to be a little less perfect, but seeing her in this state now... Beady didn't like it at all.

"We saw bison, Beady," Jo beamed at her. "And a white calf."

Beady rocked back in her chair, breath knocked out of her, and her mind jumped from one thought—that Jo was delusional—to the next—that she should fetch Maryanne—when Will hurried into the Hotel.

"Hell, Auntie, she looks worse. Has she eaten anything?"

Mute, Beady shook her head a fraction, not taking her eyes off this weird version of Jo.