Page 88 of Van Cort
“You’re sure? You don’t need to battle me about it or prove your worth, River. You’re more fascinating to me than anyone before you has ever been.”
“Me? Why?”
“Because… I don’t know.” I chuckle and pull up to the wood cabin, pleased to see three old, battered trucks still sitting in roughly the same place they used to years ago. “Because when you’re with me, I think of a peace I’ve barely ever thought of. You won’t understand what that means, but I do.” I cut the engine and turn to face her. “All this that you seem to love is beginning to mean something to me again, because of you. That’s why.”
A smile sets on her face, but she doesn’t comment on the matter. She stares for a while longer before turning her gaze to look at the cabin instead.
“Where are we?” she asks.
“The Devlin ranch. Come on.”
A woman I don’t know comes out onto the porch as we get out, wiping her hands on a cloth. She smiles at us and makes her way down the steps.
“Can I help you?” she asks.
“Is James around?”
“Which one?”
“The older.”
“Sure is. He’s over in the workshops out back.” She waves us in the direction, climbing her way back into the main house. “Help yourself.”
Walking around the back, River looks around and continues smiling that smile that seems almost permanently set in since we’ve been in Canada.
“Whoa. Your place is great, obviously, but this is on another level of natural beauty,” she says. “I can’t believe people live out here like this. We’re literally in the middle of nowhere, and yet this huge ranch is in the centre of it? Do they even get out into towns? How do they manage?” I keep walking, as she fires out questions, until we reach the workshops and open the main door.
“You should ask the owner.” Grumbling filters through the air back to us, and I instantly recognise the noise. “James?” I call.
He comes walking around the corner towards us, a hammer in one hand and a chainsaw in the other. His wizened eyes narrow as I approach, but he puts the saw down and offers his hand to shake. “What brings a Van Cort up here?”
I hold the small piece of gold up. “I’m hoping you can make me something special out of this. The lady deserves it.”
He looks at River, softening his face. “Hello, ma’am.”
“Hello,” she says. “This place is astonishing.”
“We like it,” he replies, gruffly, as he reaches for the gold in my hand.
He inspects it, turning his back on us so he can make his way back to the workroom. “Yep. That’s Van Cort gold.” He waves at River, asking her to follow. “What do you want, missy?”
“Oh, I don’t know. What can you do?” She scrutinises his limp. “Please don’t put yourself out. Something simple would be wonderful. Something I can put on a chain, maybe?”
“How long have you got?”
She looks at me in question.
“As long as you need. We can wait, but it will have to be today.” I tell him.
“Mmm. How about a pendant? I can smelt it down. Won’t be as pure as it could be, but we can work with it.”
“Maybe something natural. Organic, to reflect the place it came from?” Her eyes light up talking about it to James.
He nods and leaves, apparently clear enough from that.
River looks at me, her smile beaming.
***
