“Ready?”
He smiles back and reaches for Friday’s reins. “Ready.”
We make it to the campsite hours before nightfall, which was my plan. There is nothing worse than trying to set up camp in the dark.
“Here we go.” Pulling Chance to a stop, I climb off him and give him a vigorous rub behind the ears. He snorts and bobs his head, eyes closed. “Just a little longer and then you can relax, okay, beauty?”
Marcos turns in a half-circle as he looks around, noting the makeshift fire pit and the grassy meadow. Logs have already been placed around the fire ring, from all the times my family and I have camped here. There’s also a river close by, and at night the view of the stars is incredible.
“You come here a lot?” he asks.
“Oh yeah. I used to come and camp alone sometimes, when I needed to get away. It feels like a vacation even though we’re still on our land. Have you been camping before?”
I realize, as I ask this, that I probably should have askedbeforewe got here. Marcos’ least favorite thing in the world might be camping, but he’s too polite to say so. Marcos shakes his head, and my stomach falls. Damnit.
“No. Me and Max used to camp in the backyard sometimes, but not like this. I’m pretty excited, actually.”
My nerves settle, and I grin at him as I drop Chance’s reins to let him crop grass. Removing the saddlebags, I place them by the fire pit. Marcos reaches up to do the same for Friday.
“I can do it,” I tell him. “You can take a break, I’ll get camp set up.”
He shoots an incredulous look over his shoulder as he tries to figure out how to remove the saddlebags.
“Nate. I’m going to help, come on.”
He finally gets the bags undone and puts them next to mine. I don’t have to show him how to remove Friday’s tack, having already gone through that lesson a couple weeks ago at the ranch. I get mine off first, and demonstrate how we’ll rest them so the underside can dry off tonight. When I pull off Chance’s saddle pad, his back is moist with sweat, brown fur darkened enough that you can see exactly where the saddle was sitting. The moment the tack is removed, he gives a big shake and snorts happily.
Once Marcos is caught up, we pull off the bridles and I pass one of the lead lines over to him. We walk the horses back some yards from camp, bringing them through thetrees until we reach the river. I hand off Chance’s rope to him.
“Hold him for a second, would you? I’m going to string up the high-line while they drink.”
He nods, giving the horses enough room to dip their noses into the cold water. I can feel his eyes on my back as I walk partway back to camp, and find the trees we usually use for this.
“What’s that for?” Marcos asks the moment I move back to his side.
“It’s a high-line. We’ll secure the horses to it tonight. Careful that you don’t clothes-line yourself on it—it has to be high enough that they won’t trip or get tangled up in it.” I pat Friday’s rump. Marcos nods seriously.
“Okay.”
“Come on.” Pulling Chance’s lead from him, I show him how to tether them to the line with a quick-release knot, ensuring the horses have just enough lead rope to graze. His forehead is scrunched in concentration as he listens, eyes on my hands as I teach him.
“All right. How do we want to make a fire: caveman-style or cheating?”
“I’m assuming caveman style is bashing rocks together until we get sparks?” Marcos asks dryly. I laugh and he shakes his head. “Cheating, obviously.”
“My man,” I agree warmly, and dig through my bag until I find the flint.
We gather wood and dried grass, and get the fire started in no time. The tent takes a similarly short amount of time, and by the time camp is set up, it’s barely been an hour. Hands on his hips, Marcos looks at me.
“What next?”
I haven’t once stopped smiling since we started the ride this morning. Doing things I love with Marcos only makes me love them more. It helps that he’s cooperative and doesn’t get in the way; that he wants to learn how to do things for himself instead of just letting me do it. I’m hoping that means he’ll be easier to convince to stay—I doubt he’d bother learning how to tie a quick-release knot if he never planned on coming back.
“Now, we go upstream a little bit and get some water. And then, dinner, because I’m fucking starving. You could also wash off if you wanted—I brought a doc kit. Fair warning, though, it’ll be freezing.”
“I might just…” He mimics rubbing a bar of soap under his arms and over his chest. “I don’t want to get in the water, though.”
The sun slowly starts to dip below the mountains as we wash the day off as best we can and prepare dinner. Marcos laughs and makes a joke about our well-rounded meal of campfire-roasted hot dogs, and then proceeds to eat six.
