Chapter Seventeen
Another Sunday materialized from the interplay of days and nights on Michael Muller's ranch. On this day, to everyone's delight, there were no chores to be done, so while Michael, Kirk, and Bobby left to attend Ponderosa's church, Mirabelle and Joseph found themselves left together at the ranch. After helping Mirabelle clean up breakfast, Joseph settled himself on the porch's bench to savour the sparkling morning dew on the grasses. A little later, after having finished cleaning up, Mirabelle wandered out and stopped to stand beside Joseph.
"Mind if I sit here?" she asked him, tentatively. She thought he might want to be left in solitude.
"No. Go right ahead," he answered with a smile. Mirabelle sat down beside him. Long minutes passed with neither saying anything to the other.
"Another beautiful, sunny summer day," ambled Joseph, ending the long silence. Clear and sunny days were the norm in Colorado for the Rocky Mountains formed a formidable barrier to the storms that traversed the continent from the west.
"The natural benefit of living in a... rain shadow," noted Mirabelle. Her naturally quick mind was a bit slow in getting into gear this morning.
"Have you lived all your life in Colorado?" asked Joseph.
"A little over half of it," replied Mirabelle. "I moved here with my family when I was twelve," she added. "How about you?" she asked Joseph.
"I've been working on Michael's ranch for three years now," he answered, "but I've been through Colorado a number of times before."
"Where were you born?" asked an increasingly curious Mirabelle.
"On a ranch in Comanche County, Oklahoma. It's in the southwest of the state near Lawton," he told her.
"So you're a Comanche, Joseph?" she asked him.
"Yeah," he answered.
"If you're from Oklahoma, then how come you don't sound like you're from Oklahoma," questioned Mirabelle.
"I've been traveling for a number of years now and I guess I gradually lost it," he answered, referring to his accent. "Actually, I don't know what kind of accent I have now. I guess it's a hodgepodge of sorts," he continued.
A question came into Mirabelle's mind which promptly found itself being spoken through her lips: "So you learned to be a trick rider on your ranch?" she asked Joseph.
"Yeah," he answered, "I learned those tricks for fun as a kid. I never thought I'd be making a living from them."
"So how did you get on to the rodeo circuit? Did some passing rodeo promoter discover you?" Mirabelle asked.
Joseph stirred in his seat. He didn't like being asked so many questions, particularly about himself. There was nothing he could do, however, for he was stuck with Mirabelle on the ranch and he decided he had better make the best of it.
"I came back to Oklahoma after the War. I didn't want to stay stuck on my family's ranch so I made up an act and went to the nearest rodeo to audition," he told her a little begrudgingly.
"What did you call it?" asked Mirabelle, oblivious to his growing irritation.
Joseph turned to look at her, unable to disguise a slight frown. "What did she care?" he asked himself, "Why is she so nosy?" He didn't like people prying into his past, especially someone he had only recently met and really knew nothing about. Perhaps it was a cultural misunderstanding. Some people didn't have the notion of respecting another man's privacy.
Mirabelle noticed his frown and apologetically asked, "Did I say something wrong?"
Joseph saw the innocence and sincerity in her face and with that recognition he found his intensifying feelings of indignity dissipating. "No," he answered her, "It's just that I'm uncomfortable with people delving into my personal life."
Mirabelle puzzledly looked at him. "Personal life?" she wondered. "What was he talking about?" She was just making small talk to pass the time. Then she remembered the Indian's classic traits of being stoic and taciturn. "Oh, sorry," she apologized to him, "I didn't realize I was being rude."
Joseph smiled in reply to her apology. This girl really did seem sincere and she was sensitive enough to pick up on a hint. He decided he could trust Mirabelle and relaxed into a comfortable slouch beside her on the bench.
"The name of my act was: 'Injun Joe, Comanche Daredevil!'" he told her as he looked at her then decided to straighten himself up again, which he proceeded to do.
"'Injun Joe', that's smart," she commented. "You certainly look the part," she said to him as she eyed his long braided hair.
"It wasn't always this long," he candidly told her, temerariously forgetting his instinctive reservedness.
"What makes you think I'm going to believe that?" asked Mirabelle. Though the situation was one of levity, it was put up or shut up in her thinking and her expression radiated this to him.
Seeing the expression on her face, Joseph abruptly stood up and walked into the house. Mirabelle remained there seated wondering if she had again somehow offended him. Her question was put to rest when a few minutes later Joseph returned with a photograph in hand. He handed it to her.
"There. See for yourself," he told her triumphantly.
Mirabelle looked at the photograph. It was a picture of a younger Joseph dressed smartly in an army uniform. In the melange of shadow and light, black and white, she could indeed see that his hair was once short--crew-cut, in fact. He took the photograph back and holding it sat down beside her. Seemingly ignoring Mirabelle, Joseph stared at the photograph emotionlessly.
Not knowing what to say, Mirabelle replied, "I guess you were telling the truth."
Joseph turned to Mirabelle looking as though he had only then just become aware of her presence. Obligingly he told her, "Wore it short growing up, too. You couldn't go to school with long hair and there's no way in the world the Army would let a guy wear his hair long. I only grew and braided it for the rodeo act."
Mirabelle nodded in reply.
Joseph looked at her for a long time. "She sure is nice... and pretty, too," he thought to himself then hastily stopped his musing short. He frowned with displeasure at his indiscreet behavior. He had let this woman get too close or had allowed himself to get too close to her. With sudden swiftness he lifted his carriage to escape.
"I think I'll be off for a hike," he told Mirabelle as he retreated to his room to put the photograph away.
Mirabelle watched him as he disappeared through the doorway leading to the kitchen. She wondered about Joseph and his peculiar behavior. Maybe he wasn't the prince charming she had imagined him to be. Forgetting about him she turned her head to watch the nearby windbreak of trees swaying in the wind. "Who needs a man, anyways," she said to herself. She decided that, in contrast to popular opinion, a woman can live perfectly happy and fulfilled without being a consort.
Several minutes later Joseph again appeared in the doorway. He said to Mirabelle, "I'm off for a hike. Be back later." Whereupon he strode toward the distant hills. Mirabelle watched him until his figure blended into the forest's shadows and disappeared.
