“Days,” said Zeke, half to himself.
He’d heard of the mustang program, and knew the benefits, both to horse and human. “You need someone to go up there. Let them out of the holding pen so they can get food and water. Someone to look after them until they’re able to be trailered out of there.”
“Exactly,” said Gabe. “It’s a day’s ride with rough camping. No reward for a job well done. Know anybody who’d be interested?”
Zeke smiled as he considered it, but he already knew the answer in his heart. If he’d felt a little lost since his accident, the last of that feeling vanished as he imagined that ride and the wide openness of Aungaupi Valley.
He’d never been that far into the mountains, but he’d heard about it from a fellow bronc rider who’d gone up there on a trail ride one summer, years before.Beyond beautiful, the bronc rider had said, and then added,It’s the kind of place that can set your soul free.
Zeke needed that. He wasn’t one to jump from post to post, but while he felt useful in the valley, something inside of him jumped up and down, eager to go.
“I’ll go,” he said.
“Let me call Leland back and tell him that you’ll go,” said Gabe. “He’ll send someone with the gear, and you can leave right after lunch. But you need to take someone with you. You can’t go alone into the wilderness.”
Considering this, Zeke watched Gabe hold up his phone and, just before Gabe dialed Leland’s number, he said, “Maybe take Cal.”
With a chin jerk, Gabe pointed at what he saw over Zeke’s shoulder.
When Zeke turned, he saw Cal coming up, looking washed out and tense, holding his cell phone in front of him like it was a brick he wanted to hurl far away and fast.
Of course, he would ask Cal to go with him. If Galen was taking over the riding lessons, then Cal might have to take up other tasks, perhaps with another team. Zeke didn’t want Cal on another team because what if the move was permanent?
“Everything all right, Cal?” he asked. When Cal didn’t answer, Zeke put his hand between Cal’s shoulder blades, a gesture of comfort, and realized that Cal was trembling. “Hey,” he said, then pointed to Cal’s phone. “Did you get bad news?”
“I’ll say—” said Cal, his face pale. He seemed on the verge of saying something else when he stopped. “Never mind. What did you need? Gabe said,Maybe Cal, so what did you need?”
“I need you to go with me.”
The words came out in a rush, almost unbidden. He’d meant to explain the situation to Cal and then ask him to go. Not say that he needed him to go. But he did. He needed Cal to go with him.
“Go?” asked Cal, his voice almost breaking on the word. “You want me to go with you? Where are we going?”
Zeke explained about the mustangs in the valley. How they needed to be released and watched over until the trailer could get there. How it was a day’s ride to the valley, and how they might not be back until early the following week.
With each word he spoke, Cal’s eyes got bigger and bigger. He held his phone between two palms as if the brick he’d been longing to hurl away only moments before had become a book of prayers.
“You want me to go with you?” Cal said, spots of color appearing on his cheeks. The scar beneath his eye stood out, a stark white line. “For a few days. Yes. Sign me up. When do we leave?”
“Right after lunch, or sooner if we can manage it,” said Zeke, more pleased than he thought he would be. “We’ll need to grab a shower, ‘cause there won’t be a chance until we get back. Then we’ll each pack up a horse with the gear, saddle up, and ride out.”
“Yes,” Cal nodded. “Guess I won’t take my phone with me.”
“I’ll take mine,” said Zeke. “And we’ll pack some walkie talkies, too, in case we need them.”
As they ate breakfast, ahugebreakfast, and took showers, then met at the paddock, Zeke knew this trip, this break from his usual routine, was just what he needed.
Maybe Cal needed it as well, though he didn’t say as much. Still, he was Zeke’s shadow as they grabbed three horses out of the pasture and groomed and saddled two of them: Flint, a powerful gray horse flecked with white for Zeke to ride, and Applejack, a long legged and sturdy orange and white paint horse with a copper-red mane and tail, for Cal.
When Clay arrived from the guest ranch with camping gear, they put a sawbuck pack saddle on Dusty, who was the strongest horse of the three, and the most steady.
“Is there a cover for that pack saddle?” asked Zeke, as he checked the ropes on the panniers. “And Cal, don’t forget that other tent. Make sure it gets tied down properly.”
“Yes, sir,” said Cal, his head down as he checked the cinch on his own horse and paused to tug on his bear scare as he said, “I’m on it.”
This was freedom. As Zeke tied on the pack saddle cover and checked the balance, the weight on his shoulders felt like it was lifting off him.
Had he been so unhappy since the accident that the thought of spending three or four days of rough camping in the wilderness set him free?
