A few months after his family reunited, the West Coast man Austin had replaced returned from his Far East assignment. A glut of Bates’ men in the mix, moving up for Welborne men no longer a given; Bates weeding out the weak, Corporate let it be known that Austin needed “seasoning,” corporate speak for broader experience and contacts. He took a transfer to the Kansas City office—a lateral move.
His true feelings leaving the Bay—ambivalent—a sense of giving up smooth sailing for rough seas in hostile waters. “An adventure,” he professed when his wife and son were listening. Open if not eager for adventure, leaving the familiar made Jenny and Danny sad. The day the movers packed their belongings for the three-day trek to KC, bag and baggage, they piled into the family car for the drive to KC, lodging reservations along the route.
Cruising on a four lane, Jenny beside him, their son his books and toys spread out in the back, Austin relaxed, his thoughts wandering to the place they’d left behind—good memories and painful. He’d come close, too close, to losing her: an ill-fated pregnancy, a lingering depression. She’d taken Danny, fled to Twin Springs County. He didn’t understand what caused her transformation. Connecting with the land and her people brought her, “from the dark side into the light,” her words. In spite of letters and phone calls they shared, until the night they came together, he had misgivings.
While Jenny took her bath, he’d tucked Danny in with a bedtime story. The boy was sound asleep before Curious George had solved his latest dilemma. Leaving Danny’s room, he locked the doors and doused the lights. In their bedroom, Jenny stood at the dresser brushing the silken hair he longed to touch, but held back.
She smiled at him, asked softly, “He’s sleeping?”
“Out like a light.” Awkward. When sex was anticipated, she enjoyed watching him undress. “You must be exhausted,” he remarked. Man, he ached to touch her, hold her.
She put down her brush, turned to face him, her voice trembling, “We’ve been apart too long, Austin. … Let me be your wife.”
She was back, under his roof, physically, mentally, in almost every way. There was a difference, so subtle he couldn’t say exactly what it was. While Jenny had been confined to Oakland Memorial, he’d had a conversation with Robin in whom Jenny had confided an irrational fear: Dr. Bishop’s sleeping potions part of a dark, blood-curdling plan. Native American girls had been sterilized in forced confinement; crimes as yet unproven in a court of law. Stunned, Austin couldn’t believe Robin’s assertion. The gruesome nature of unproven charges served to strengthen his resolve to keep his wife and son under his influence, away from the pull of reservation conspiracy theories.
KC was different in so many ways from Frisco, where cultures blended in an atmosphere heavy with brine. Kansas, Missouri: conservative, mid-west agrarian, stock-yard aroma shifting with wind direction. The city had a lot to offer: Pro-sports; red meat, sweet barbecue; mellow, home-grown jazz floating from the clubs, spilling into streets where the public lingered and enjoyed. Bates Welborne’s offices were in the city center. A country club membership came with his assignment; a place to entertain and play a round on weekends.
Some months after the move, they took a Sunday drive into the countryside. He was at the wheel, Jenny beside him, Danny in back shifting side to side, his nose pressed to the window.
“Whose lands are these, Mommy? What peoples lived here?”
She turned in her seat. “The state of Kansas took its name from the Kansa people. Missouri is named for Missouri tribes.”
“Did the Zuni Pueblo live here?”
“No, Daniel. The Zuni Pueblo homelands are in the desert. Arizona, New Mexico.”
He thought a moment. “I remember.”
“Many peoples lived here,” Jenny continued. “Pawnee, Shawnee, Cherokee, Comanche.”
“Paw-nee, Shaw-nee, Cherokee, Comanche,” Danny repeated, sing-song, as though he liked the sounds.
“Cattle country,” Austin remarked. “Heifers both sides of the road.”
Jenny made a wide sweep with her hand. “Long, long ago, herds of deer and bison grazed.”
Danny came forward in his seat. “Did the Iroquois hunt here?”
“Mmm humm. Many nations came here to hunt and trade with their Indian brothers.”
“Kan-on-si-onni,” Danny pronounced carefully. “Kan-on-si-onni.”
Austin’s jaw dropped. “Where did he hear that word?”
“It means: the people of the longhouse ... the Iroquois,” She and Danny carried on, the subject: Indians.
She saw surroundings from a mixed-background prospective. How much she’d imparted to their son he hadn’t known. He held a comment until there was a pause. “Under all this land,” he said, fixing Danny in the rear-view mirror, “the stuff that keeps this country humming.”
Tentatively, Danny responded. “Coal.”
“Coal, oil, natural gas … our bread and butter.” Would Danny make the connection?
“Your work, Daddy.”
“Yeah, son, my work.” Austin chuckled. A Dad did have influence.
They came up over a knoll, a flat plain stretched ahead; beyond, a wide, muddy river.
“M-i-ss-i-ss-i-pp-i,” Austin recited. “Danny, spell Mississippi.”
The boy complied, with coaching.
Jenny sighed, a far-away look in her eyes. “These lands are fertile.” She turned to Austin. “We’ll be happy here.”
He’d found an apartment in a family-friendly neighborhood on the Missouri side of town near the river, an easy walk to shops, the library, the YWCA where Danny went to pre-school, learned to swim and Jenny took craft classes—the Y the center of their social lives.
She resisted leaving Danny with a sitter so they could step out for an evening. “I have to entertain. It’s important to my job,” Austin protested. “I want you with me.”
Her reasoning did make sense. Their time together so precious, she didn’t want to share that time with strangers. His territory, spread over four states, and in an economic downturn kept him on the road three weeks out of every month. As the months passed he looked forward to their home-style weekends. She had moods, spells of sadness at times he was in need of unqualified support. Corporate politics a dirty business, the strain between the Bates men and Welborne’s old, team players made for a hostile work environment.
On a Monday evening he was home, a rough day at the office playing phone tag with the self-important Bates men. If a good job came along, he’d have to find a way to break his contract. At dinner he held down his aggravation, took it to the TV, a hard-hitting NFL game. Those guys in uniform beat up on each other. Much as he’d enjoy punching out Bates men—unprofessional; Corporate games mind-twisting.
Jenny was reading in bed when he came into their room. Watching him undress; her thoughts more serious than sexual, he decided. “You can read. The light won’t bother me.”
She put the book aside. “Can we talk?”
Not the best time, but he wouldn’t shoot her down. “Sure.”
She studied him a moment. “I want us to try again.”
A baby. Fear gripped his throat. “Too soon!” His words more harsh than intended.
A defensive come back. “More than two years.”
“I’ve taken a pay cut ... not making my quota. Bad timing.”
Her shoulders slumped. “I didn’t know.”
“Let’s table this until things settle down.”
Nothing more was said. He knew there’d come a time when they’d speak of this again.
Tom Scott caught up with Austin in Colorado where he was calling on a chemical company. Exchanging pleasantries, latest business forecasts, Tom dropped the reason for his call.
“Reliable sources, mind you,” he began, “the Mormons are to build a gas plant and a pipeline … mega projects. Bates Welborne could be bidding.” Tom had sources outside and inside the industry.
“Um hum, the Mormons.” Though he’d sensed an interest, the contacts he’d made in Salt Lake had so far come to nothing.
“Mind you, there’s a stipulation, aye.”
Austin chuckled, anticipating what was coming. “Oh, yeah. They deal on their own terms, or not at all.”
“Seems one of our Welborne men made a grand impression,” Tom went on. “They told our management, ‘send Burdette.’ They’ll speak to you, no other, aye.”
Cautious for the moment, Austin tried to sort this out. “Utah’s not my territory anymore.”
“No matter. My sources tell me you’re the man they want.”
“Interesting,” Austin commented, pulling at his chin. “I don’t know what to make of it.”
“When you get the call from Corporate, mate, you’ll take the ball and run.”
“You bet I will, Coach.” Amused, Austin wondered if he’d get the call before he left for Sarasota. He told Tom he’d be taking the family to Florida to visit his mother.
“Ahhhh, a holiday. How is your mum? Remember me to her.”
“I’ll do that. Mother is well.” Austin affirmed. “I’ll be in touch when I get back. And thanks for the heads up.”
At home in KC, they were packing for the trip to Sarasota, a distance between them he wouldn’t allow to continue. “I don’t want a baby so you’ve cut me off.”
She put folded golf shirts into a suitcase. Her eyes flashed. “I thought you were mad at me.”
“Not mad.” He crushed a pair of socks in a closed fist. “I have my reasons … there’s more.”
She gave him her full attention.
“I can’t forget,” Austin continued, his voice raspy with emotion. “The way you looked ... drained ... all that blood. I’m afraid for you, Jenny.”