breezeway outside, she almost collided head-on with Leann Jessup. The other woman was dressed in tennies, shorts, and a glow-in-the-dark T-shirt. “I’m going for a run,” she said. “Care to join me?”
The idea of going for a jog carried no appeal. “No, thanks,” Joanna replied. “I’m saving myself for that first session of physical training tomorrow afternoon. I’m going to shower, hit the books, and then try to get some sleep.”
For a moment Joanna watched Leann’s stretching exercises, then she glanced at her watch. It was almost eleven-thirty. “Isn’t this a little late to go jogging?”
Leann grinned. “Not in Phoenix it isn’t. Most of the year it’s too hot to go out any earlier. Besides, I’m a night owl—one of those midnight joggers. Actually, this is early for me.”
Joanna laughed. “Where I come from, coyotes are the only ones who go jogging this time of night.
Back in her dormitory room, Joanna quickly stripped out of her clothing and headed for shower.
Standing under the torrent of pulsing hot water, Joanna marveled at the unaccustomed force of the water. Back on the High Lonesome, a private w ell, temperamental pump, and aging pipes all combined to create perpetual low pressure. Reveling in the steamy warmth, she stayed in the shower far longer than she would have at home.
When she finally emerged from the shower, she once again found her bathroom tinged with cigarette smoke. The bath towel she used to dry her face, the one she had brought from home, stank to high heaven.
Her nose wrinkled in distaste. Ever since she’d been forced to use high school rest rooms that had reeked of smoke, she had been bugged by the people who hid out in bathrooms to smoke. Why the hell couldn’t they be honest enough to smoke in public, in front of God and everybody? She thought. Why did so many of them have to be so damned sneaky about it?
With the exhaust fan going full blast, the mirror cleared gradually. As the steam dissipated, Joanna’s body slowly came into focus. Back home, with Jenny bouncing in and out of rooms, standing naked in front of a full-length mirror wasn’t something Joanna Brady did very often. Now she subjected her body to a critical self-appraisal—something she hadn’t done for years. In fact, the last time she had looked at herself in that fashion had been nine years earlier, just after Jenny’s birth. She had been concerned about whether or not she’d get her pre-pregnancy figure back.
She had, of course, within months, thanks more to genetics than to dietary diligence on Joanna’s part. Even in her sixties, Eleanor Lathrop remained pencil thin, and Joanna had inherited that tendency. Now, except for two faded stretch marks—one on each breast—there were no other physical indications that she had ever borne a child. Her breasts were still firm. Her small waist curved out into fuller hips. Her figure suffered some in comparison with that of someone as elegantly tall as Leann Jessup. For one thing, Joanna was somewhat heavier. So be it. Joanna wasn’t a daily—or nightly—jogger. Her muscle tone came from real work on the ranch—from wrestling bales of hay and long-legged calves—rather than from a prescribed program of gym-bound weight lifting.
Moving closer to the mirror, Joanna examined her face. She still wasn’t sleeping through the night. She hadn’t done that regularly since Andy died, but she was getting more rest. Her skin was clear. The dark circles under her eyes were fading. The new hairdo Eleanor had badgered her into on the day of the election was an improvement over her old one. Even though she still wasn’t quite accustomed to the shorter length, Joanna had to admit it was easier to care for. She found herself using far less shampoo, and the time she was forced to waste waving her hairdryer around in the bathroom been reduced from ten minutes to five.
Standing there naked, Joanna Brady finally saw herself for the first time as someone else might see her, the way some man who wasn’t Andy might see her. A man who ...
With a start, she remembered Butch Dixon staring at the rings on her fingers. She saw him standing there talking to her, leaning against the bar obviously enjoying her company. She saw again the pleased look on his face when she had walked back into the Roundhouse after her trip down to the Maricopa County Jail. She remembered how quickly he had apologized when he’d inadvertently stumbled onto Andy’s death, and how he’d jumped down the throat of the poor guy he thought might have insulted her.
