Pumpkin took time before answering. "This minister put me up for the night in Iowa. He spent the whole evening trying to save my soul. Kind of a drag, but he meant well and his old lady's cooking was something. But he told this one story I remember. It was about loaves and fishes. There was only a few of them, see. And God kept multiplying and multiplying 'em and feeding this whole field of people, like at a rock concert. It got me thinking about spreading around the little bit you've got." Pumpkin looked at the picture of Randy Byrne, one leg up on a boulder, an I-own-the-world smile on his young face and Jen smiling at him with a look of love. "That his girlfriend?" he asked.
"She's going to be his wife," Cynthia answered with no pleasure in her voice.
Pumpkin smiled. "You know what your boy's got in his knapsack?"
"Food and extra clothing, I guess," Cynthia answered as they neared Bird Song.
"Naw. I don't mean that. He's got the whole world in his knapsack. He's got all the loaves and fishes he needs. He's got so much going for him-a girl who loves him, a great family, smarts, education, good looks, and you said he's a jock. Look what he's got to spread around. Don't go zippering up his knapsack on him. Let him rummage around inside it and find all those treasures himself. It's nice you're worried about him but there ain't no need. He's gonna work things out 'cause you raised him right. Me, my whole world's a shopping cart full of junk and hand-me-downs-that's my life, all of it. But if the little bit I've got's not stopping me from trying to multiply it to something better, how can you be worried about this kid of yours?" Then he laughed at himself. "Look at me. I'm a philosopher. That's what a hundred and seventeen days on the road does to you!" He was off with a jog and a wave, leaving the Deans in front of Bird Song.
Dean suggested before returning that they drive ten miles to the Ridgway fairgrounds, where a Sunday morning farmer's market offered fresh fruits and vegetables. It was a weekly summer ritual for one or the other, but seldom both; they enjoyed stocking up on local-grown produce. While Bird Song fed its guests only breakfast, there was always fresh fruit available and the management triumvirate ate heartily of nature's stores.
Whether it was Pumpkin's advice or the sunny day, Cynthia's mood lightened as they drove. Ridgway, a few more miles away from the backdrop of mountains, provided a spectacular view. The horizon was full of peaks like the teeth of a saw, so numerous as to be nearly indistinguishable from one another, except for the occasional spike that rose above its companions. Fourteen-thousandfoot Mount Sneffles and closer Whitehouse Mountain dominated the scene. All the peaks remained snow-capped, giving sharply defined contrast to the green of their slopes and the blue of the summer sky.