Somewhere In-Between Read Free

Julie has spotted Elke shopping in Waverley Creek every now and then. She’s hard to miss. In her expensive European clothes and carefully coiffed sun-blonde hair she was a head-turner whenever she showed up on the streets of the decidedly casual town. She still is, even though she has to be at least ten years older than Julie.
    To the salesman’s obvious discomfort, the owner insists on accompanying them as they tour the ranch. In an accent heavy with guttural consonants, she does most of the talking. Following her through the outbuildings, Julie feels a twinge of sympathy for Richard, who is being so firmly usurped from his role, until she notices his twitches of pleasure at Ian’s obvious buying signals. The novice realtor actually rubs his palms together while answering Ian’s telling question about the equipment in the sheds and barn being included in the sale. Julie can almost see the salesman mentally calculating his share of the commission.
    Outside, she joins Ian as he strays over to the horse corral where he leans on the wooden fence, resting one foot on the bottom rail. “Beautiful,” he says to himself, as two enormous chestnut workhorses plod across the dirt towards them. Their hides reflect the light in a coppery sheen; jet-black manes sway across arched necks. In stark contrast, the markings on their long faces and legs are snow white. Their feathered stockings, which look freshly combed, splay out over platter-sized hooves as they rise and fall with each heavy step.
    â€œThey must be at least eighteen hands high,” Ian says.
    Julie glances over at her husband, surprised that he knows this term for a horse’s height. But, why not? He’s a numbers man after all.
    â€œClydesdales,” Richard says as he and Elke join them. “They’re included along with the four saddle horses out in the field.”
    The two workhorses walk up to the fence and lift their massive heads over the top rung.
    â€œYah, they are Virgil’s babies,” Elke says reaching up and stroking the heavily muscled withers of the closest one. “His gentle giants, he calls them. At least that was what my husband told me. I wouldn’t know. I don’t see Virgil so much. He did business
mit
Helmut.” At the mention of her husband’s name something changes in the woman’s eyes. She quickly blinks herself back to the moment and points to the far side of the meadow. “The west side of the property goes to the top of the plateau,” she says, then begins to describe the boundaries.
    â€œI have all the maps and overhead forestry photographs,” Richard announces in an attempt to take the lead.
    While the verbal tug-of-war over property lines, hay production and timber values continues, Julie scans the countryside. Across the valley, below the western ridge, dense forest hugs the hillsides, a tapestry of variegated greens with rusty brown peppered throughout, as if Mother Nature has prematurely arrived with a hard autumn frost. From a distance it looks beautiful. But Julie knows exactly what causes this effect. The dead pine trees stand like tinder dry skeletons, remnants of the unchecked pine-beetle infestation, which continues to devastate the province’s forests.
    â€œThis is one of the few properties in the area that hasn’t been clear-cut,” Richard says as if following her thoughts.
    â€œHelmut would not do this.” Elke strokes the velvet muzzle of the other horse. “He did not want to ruin the view.”
    â€œThe beetle-killed timber will have to come down,” Julie says, surprising herself.
    Ian’s head jerks up. He smiles at her, and she is glad to see his delight at her joining the conversation.
    â€œVirgil will log it
mit der
…” Elke stops. “
With the
horses,” she corrects herself.
    â€œThere’s a market for those dead trees now,” Richard interjects. “The lumber dresses out nicely.