The Cowboy and the Hacker (Farthingdale Valley #5)

17. Cal

Chapter 17

Cal

C al had never been camping before, let alone ridden such a canyon, and never mind that getting there could only be done by horseback. Let alone, well, all of it. Being on horseback, following a muddy blue river which seemed to be getting wider even as the red-hued canyon was getting narrower.

His gaze always, or nearly always, was on Zeke, on those shoulders, the steady cadence of the horses. The sun sparkling on the water.

Part of him was scared. Plain and simple. The sky above, even rimmed by the dark juts of red and brown rock on either side, seemed too wide, too vast. The river was close, threatening to lap over the path.

He took a deep breath to calm himself. Took another and focused on Zeke again. And just as he thought the canyon would narrow and press in on them like some kind of wilderness trash compactor, the horses rounded a sharp bend, and the canyon opened up.

The river grew wide and flat, and the other side of the canyon seemed far away.

Ahead, Zeke slowed and pulled out the rifle, aiming it at the far side of the river.

Cal was about to ask what Zeke was doing, but then he saw the bear, a dark brown shape in the pine trees. Zeke didn’t shoot at it, but put the rifle away, then pulled his horse to a stop and waited until Cal caught up.

“It’s a brown bear,” he said. “It’s foraging for winter, but it’s really close to the valley, so before we lose signal, I’m going to call Gabe, so he can alert the rangers.”

It was then Cal realized that Zeke had only been using the scope of the rifle to check out the bear. He waited while Zeke chatted with Gabe, and when the call was over, Zeke looked at Cal.

He must have read something on Cal’s face because he said, “If the bear had crossed the river to get at us, I would have shot only to warn it away.”

“Okay.” Cal couldn’t manage more than that, and realized that his heart had started racing when he’d seen the bear. Zeke was amazing to be so calm about it, to have spotted the bear in the first place, and to know exactly what to do.

They got off their horses to give them a break, to let them drink in the river.

“We could have kept going,” said Zeke as Cal struggled to balance on his wobbly knees and sore thighs. “But there’s no sense pushing the horses, since we won’t get there any sooner than we already are.” When Zeke saw Cal walking so tenderly, he smiled. “Just keep moving,” he said. “Keep the blood flowing.”

Standing there by the banks of the slowly moving river, Applejack’s reins in his hands, Cal watched Zeke circle around all three horses, checking the panniers on Dusty’s back. Watching with careful eyes as Cal remounted his horse.

“You’ve got a good seat,” Zeke said, then reached up to adjust Cal’s hands on the reins. The touch of those strong fingers, even through leather gloves, was electric, sending ripples through him, a human touch in the midst of all this wilderness.

“Drink some water,” Zeke said, pulling the canteen from where it hung on the saddle horn.

As Cal drank, Zeke watched him, as carefully as he might watch a prize horse that he wanted to see safely to journey’s end.

Zeke didn’t know that the place they were traveling to was safer for Cal than the valley right now. With Preston due at the work camp in the morning, all angry and forceful about where he felt Cal belonged, this was his current mad escape plan. At least it would delay the inevitable, at least for a while.

“Why don’t they just send a helicopter in with men to take care of the mustangs?” asked Cal as he watched, with some delight, as Zeke took a sip of water from the canteen he’d just drunk from.

“The BLM doesn’t have the resources to send one,” said Zeke. He patted his mouth with the back of a gloved hand, then secured the lid to the canteen, hooking it around Applejack’s saddle horn. “Once they clear a pathway enough rubble along that road, they can send men in and take those mustangs out on a string. In the meantime, this is our best option to make sure the mustangs don’t suffer.”

Zeke looked up at him, and from the shadow beneath the brim of his cowboy hat, Cal thought he saw a smile glittering in those eyes.

“You asked a good question, though,” said Zeke. “I had the same one. Why not just helicopter in and be done with it? But there are no helicopters available, and no clearance to land in that valley. The BLM does important work, but sometimes they don’t always get the resources they need. Search and rescue, fire assistance, those take precedence over wild mustangs.”

Feeling very wise, now that he knew more of what was going on, Cal watched as Zeke mounted Flint, swinging his thigh over the saddle and landing as gently as a dandelion gone to seed. Soft and sweet. It would take years for Cal to be able to mount his horse with the grace that Zeke did.

As Zeke gathered the reins, he whistled to Flint and started them on their way again.

They followed the path along the river as it widened and narrowed, like a ribbon of water with a mind of its own, flowing brown and gray and green and white, splashing over the rocks as it tumbled past them, or flowing smooth like a blanket on its way to the flatlands.

Clouds gathered overhead, lumpy and silver-edged, putting the canyon in and out of shadow. A cool breeze began to blow as the sun sank low enough to put them in permanent shadow, though it wasn’t until the path began to rise and lead them into a copse of aspens and pines that Zeke called a halt.

“We’re going to get some wet weather,” said Zeke. He pulled his horse back to stand at Cal’s side. “And we’re about two or three hours out from Aungaupi Valley. If we bunk down early and head out before sunup, we can arrive in time to make sure those mustangs have a hearty breakfast.”

“Sounds good,” said Cal, more glad than he thought would be to stop and rest.

He watched as Zeke dismounted and led Flint and Dusty into the copse. Their necks stretched to follow him, as if they knew they were at the end of their journey for the day.

Cal dismounted Applejack—he wanted to be like Zeke so badly, to be like him in every way—but he almost collapsed, his legs crumpling beneath him, and only a fast grab at the stirrup of his saddle saved him. He felt Zeke knew how close he’d come to tumbling on his ass, but wasn’t saying anything, and simply was setting up a tie line between two pine trees.

“Anything I can do to help?” asked Cal as he led his horse over to the tie line that Zeke had strung up. It was cool beneath the trees and the wind was still.

“Sure,” said Zeke. He took off his hat and gloves and ran his hand through his sweat-damp hair. “But answer this. What do you do first? Unpack and set up camp or take care of your horse?”

“Horse, first,” said Cal. “But you have to unpack a little to get at the halter and brush and a treat for the horses. Right?”

He already knew he was right because he had listened to every word Zeke had ever said to him. But the smile he got from Zeke was like getting a gold star.

“You’re correct,” said Zeke. “And because we are traveling together, we can do both at the same time. I’ll tend to the horses, and you start unpacking and setting up camp.”

Cal didn’t know all the aspects of setting up camp, but he knew that he could figure it out. He handed Applejack’s reins over to Zeke, and went to Dusty and opened the left pannier, where he knew the tents were stored. Where he remembered packing the tents, only now there was only one tent, singular. Not two.

“Um.”

“Problem?” asked Zeke.

Cal couldn’t see Zeke over the top of the panniers, but his presence, his steady, low murmurings to Dusty as he took out the halters and long leads, was utterly felt.

It had been Cal’s job to pack both tents, along with the food and gear, fire starter, and small single burner, which ran on butane. It was all there, including ropes, matches, a shovel for digging a latrine— all of it. But only one tent.

Had it been Preston on the other side of that horse, Cal knew he’d be in for a series of hard smacks and angry shouting. Zeke wasn’t like that. Cal knew he wasn’t, but his heart picked up just the same.

His body tightened, like it was looking for somewhere to run, only there wasn’t anyplace. Just the river and the high canyon walls and miles of trail in either direction.

“Everything okay, Cal?” asked Zeke.

“I forgot to pack one of the tents,” he said with a gulp, making himself look at Zeke directly over Dusty’s back. “It was sitting on the ground. It was right there, but I forgot it.”

“Ah.”

Zeke came around and stood at Cal’s side as he looked into the pannier. On the top layer was one tent, all neatly tucked in its carryall bag.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“No worries, it’s easier to set up and take down one tent than two,” was Zeke’s reply. “Find a good flat spot, away from the river, and start setting up. I’ll finish with the horses, and we’ll get some dinner going.”

“Okay.”

Cal’s heart was still racing as Zeke walked back to the tie line, taking Applejack with him. Cal made himself focus on putting up the tent, which was easy, even if there were no instructions.

He had the tent up in no time, pushing the pegs into the soft earth beneath the trees. He even set up a rain fly, because even though it didn’t look like it was going to rain, Zeke had said they were going to get some damp weather.

He rolled out the two sleeping bags, thinking himself clever that the zippered edges were facing each other. He didn’t let himself think about what it would be like to sleep in the same tent as Zeke. There might not be any fooling around, but he knew he’d sleep like a baby.

Then he took out the fire starter, and small burner, and some of the fresh food that they’d packed. They had enough for a day or two, then would have to rely on freeze-dried rations after that, but that was fine by Cal.

He’d rather be here, up in the mountains, with Zeke, than anywhere else in the world right now. If he had to eat half-cooked reconstituted anything, he’d eat it.

“Good job,” said Zeke as Cal went over to him beneath the rustling arch of aspen leaves dancing in the wind as the last of the sunlight limned their edges. “I’ve given the horses their rations in their feedbags and watered them. Help me groom?”

It didn’t have to be a question. Zeke could have ordered him, but he wasn’t like that. He made it a suggestion, as though Cal had free will to linger and lollygag. That made it all the more a pleasure when working at Zeke’s side was pleasure enough.

Cal matched his pace to Zeke’s, and let himself imagine what it might have been like had he met Zeke long before he met Preston. If he’d met Zeke in another life. If he didn’t have a prison record.

It would have been wonderful. It would have been a whole other life, a good life full of blue skies and kind words of encouragement when things went wrong. It would have been full of Zeke’s quiet smiles and those broad shoulders and green eyes and the good feeling when Zeke’s attention turned Cal’s way.

“That’s that,” said Zeke. He took his leather gloves off and tucked them in his belt, in case he might need them.

Cal did the same, and knew that Zeke noticed, and wondered if Zeke would make fun of him for being Zeke’s shadow.

Of course, Zeke didn’t do that. Instead, he directed Cal to gather dry wood, if he could find any, while Zeke set up the burner and pulled out the steaks. They’d been frozen when they’d set out, and now they were fully thawed. Zeke sprinkled them with salt and pepper and rubbed olive oil along the surfaces.

“This is pretty fancy,” said Zeke. “But it’s our first night out and the steaks won’t last anyhow.”

There were even potatoes that could be baked, but those would need an hour in the coals so, saving the potatoes for another night, they feasted on steaks and fresh asparagus that Zeke grilled in the pan over the butane burner while the steaks rested.

After dinner, they washed the pan in the river, and Zeke dried and oiled it, and they buried the scraps so it wouldn’t attract wild animals. The rest of the food, they tied in a bag and hoisted onto a tree branch using rope they’d brought with them.

Zeke made coffee, dark and strong, and then they sat by the fire and watched the stars come out.

“This is a good time of day,” said Zeke as he looked past the small fire with its orange and blue flames, and let his gaze wander over the river, which looked dusky in the low light.

They hadn’t brought any camping chairs, so they sat cross-legged in the dirt, shoulders brushing, as though between the two of them they created a bulwark against the coming night.

One by one, the stars were blotted out by the pushing clouds, and a bit of rain fell, soft and cold, sweeping over the bend in the river as though it couldn’t determine whether it wanted to stick around or not.

“Let’s clean up, get ready for bed,” said Zeke.

Together they made sure everything was put away, then brushed their teeth standing on the bank of the river. Cal echoed Zeke’s movements as he took off his boots and stored them upside down so the snakes wouldn’t get in.

He used his pants, covered with a spare t-shirt, as a pillow. When Zeke crawled into the tent beside him, he held his breath. The darkness hid Zeke’s shape, but it could not hide the power of his limbs, the steadiness of his breath, the scent of man and horse and fresh air.

Cal inhaled a deep breath and let all of this soak into him. In a few days, his world would come crashing in on him, but for now, he had this. Himself, and Zeke, and the silent spell of the mountains.

All of this was a gift, pure and simple. He gathered the good feelings, and ducked his chin to his chest, and willed it to continue forever.