Even as Zeke watched, Cal’s expression had changed from one of overwhelm to wide-eyed-wonder, and Zeke smiled. There was nothing like plenty of fresh air and a lot of peace and quiet to settle a man. Nothing.
Chapter 17
Cal
Cal 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.”
