As Cal came up to him, Zeke opened his mouth to express what he was feeling, but the words didn’t come, and it wouldprobably come out in a confused muddle anyhow. The last thing Cal needed was to listen to Zeke’s problems.
“You all set?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” said Cal, but his smile belied the seriousness of his reply.
Zeke pulled out the topographical map and unfolded it and, shoulder to shoulder, they both looked at the map while Zeke traced their proposed path with his finger.
“We’re following the Yellow Wolf River,” he said. “It’ll take us the rest of the afternoon to get most of the way up the canyon. The way is narrow in spots, but Quint said that right around this curve in the canyon is a nice place to camp for the night. Then, in the morning, we’ll head on up to the Aungaupi Valley.”
“Are the mustangs going to be okay until then?” asked Cal.
“Yes,” said Zeke, quite firmly as folded the map and stuck it in the pocket of his jeans. “They were fed and watered this morning in preparation for being trailered out, so it’ll be less than twenty-four hours that they’ve been penned up.”
Zeke saw the worry in Cal’s eyes, not for himself, but for the mustangs.
“Mustangs are tough,” Zeke said, hoping his words were enough to reassure Cal. “They’ll weather this, and after, they’ll be given to some fine young ladies who will train them and take the best care of them, I promise.”
“Okay.”
Briefly looking Cal up and down, Zeke saw a young man who might very well be changed by their journey. And knew that he himself would also be changed. That’s what riding into the backcountry did to a man.
As he settled his straw cowboy hat on his head and pulled on his leather gloves, and watched Cal do the same, he said, “Let’s ride.”
They mounted their horses. Zeke took Dusty’s lead as his responsibility and also took the lead spot. Later, when they were well on their way and relaxed into the journey, Cal might like to take the lead.
Then, in the bright, sunshiny morning, they walked their horses across the compound to the wooden bridge that went over Horse Creek River. From the river they would follow the path beneath the curving river willows, and from there, they would head up the canyon along the Yellow Wolf River.
At the bridge, they were met by pretty much everyone, a gathering of men to wish them well, team leads and rough ex-cons, all with smiles on their upturned faces.
“If you see any hawks, will you take pictures?” asked Royce.
“Watch out for bears,” said Bede.
Surprisingly, Gabe met them with a rifle and holster, which he tied to Flint’s saddle.
“I don’t need that,” said Zeke, gently holding Flint still.
“It’s just a precaution,” said Gabe. “Bears aren’t quite headed into hibernation, so you might see them. And mountain lions, they’re known to have territory up in Aungaupi Valley.”
“I’ll keep an eye out,” said Zeke. He was a good shot, but he’d never ridden with a rifle strapped to his saddle before. Still, it was better to be careful.
With a wave and a chorus ofGood luckringing in his ears, he guided Flint across the wooden bridge, and looked back as they entered the thicket of willows. The compound was framed by the green boughs, and Cal’s eyes beneath the brim of his straw cowboy hat were enormous.
What did Cal see that made him look so wide eyed and young? Sure, a journey like this would be something new, but it was new for Zeke as well. His soul felt like a blank slate upon which anything could be written.
Everything happened for a reason, it was said, so maybe his last disastrous ride had been a sign of sorts, the kind usually left by fairies in the old stories. Something his grandma might have told him about.
It took them about forty-five minutes of gentle riding along the willow-shaded path until they arrived at the Yellow Wolf River, which they would follow into the canyon. The sun was high above, which meant the canyon would be in shadow come sundown.
They needed to arrive at the wide place where the river water slowed into deep pools. That was the way Quint had described it to him.It’s a good source of water,Quint had said.Use the purifier, though, just to be on the safe side.
That water would be cold and it would probably taste better than any tap water. Pure and cold and still. His throat already ached for it.
“You okay back there, Cal?” he asked, knee-reining Flint to cross the shallow ford, going from sunshine to shadow and then back again.
“Yep,” said Cal.
Zeke looked over his shoulder at Cal astride Applejack. The horse’s copper red mane and tail, with just a flash in each, white as though touched by lightning, fluttered in the faint breeze. They made a pretty picture, the two of them, Cal riding so straight and tall, the horse stepping so carefully.
