Page 25 of Bales and Brawn

He groans as he takes his first bite. I watch him close his eyes, savoring the taste. It’s the first time I’ve seen him take joy or pleasure in anything, and it captivates me.

“What is it about a rustic sandwich in a setting like this that tastes so good?” he asks.

“Oh, and here I was thinking you were going to compliment me on my cooking,” I quip, and receive a throaty chuckle before he takes another bite. I try mine and almost groan as well, and he raises an eyebrow at me.

“Okay. I get it. It does taste different out here.”

After breakfast we check on the horses, turning them out into a grassy area behind the barn and then sweeping it clean.

“They can stay out here during the day and we’ll shut them in the barn overnight,” Zane explains as we check the fencing is still sound.

“Keep them safe from the bears?”

He glances up at the rocky ridge behind the cabin.

“I was thinking more about the mountain lions.” I stare after him as he walks away. I’m not sure if he’s joking or not. This country is wild. After seven years I thought I’d seen everything. I was wrong. I catch up with him and he shows me the well. At around twelve feet in diameter and the same deep, it’s much more like what I was expecting. I can see it’s choked up with weeds.

“It’s not really a well. It’s more of a catch pool and inspection irrigation my ancestors created a hundred and fifty years ago. It’s been upgraded over the years, but essentially, it diverts water from the creek and into an aquifer under the farm.

“That’s pretty smart.” I’m impressed with old engineering.

“Yeah, so we need to clear it out and make sure it’s still working, and that the walls and barrier fence are still intact.”

“So we’re going down there?” I peer over the railings around the top and into the drop below.

“No, but you are,” he says, and I look down again and shudder. I really should have asked more about this job before I took Zane’s bait.

Half an hour later I’m kitted out in rain boots and wearing some sort of harness, which I’m glad looks very modern and sturdy. Not some relic from when this place was built. Zane has also rigged up some ropes.

“I’ll lower you down so you can hack the weeds and the reeds. Bundle them up and I’ll haul them back up.”

“Sounds simple,” I say, not meaning a word of it.

“You’ll be fine. I was doing this when I was twelve.”

“You know, that doesn’t make me feel any better,” I mutter, and even his laugh does little to help.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” I never really liked my feet leaving the ground, which is why finding out I actually like riding horses has surprised me. But things like bungee-jumping, abseiling, even roller coasters . . . Nope. They’re not for me.

So finding myself suspended over a hole with my feet dangling free is going in my top three worst moments of my life.

I try not to look down, but looking up doesn’t help either, so I stare straight at the sheer walls until I reach the weeds. The water doesn’t look deep, so I put my feet down and find it only comes halfway up my boots. Feeling better now I’m standing on something solid, I start chopping at the long reeds and pulling out whatever has managed to take root. Everything is passed back up to Zane.

The water is murky from where I’ve stirred it up, and as the sun rises, the shadows deepen, and it feels almost sinister. I jump as my foot hits against something I can’t see, and a thought occurs.

“Is there anything I should be wary of down here?” I ask.

“Maybe alligators,” Zane replies.

“You have fucking alligators as well?” I snap my head up sharply and see Zane’s smirk, which only slightly helps to slow the pounding in my chest.

“No. Not in Cali.”

“Thank fuck. Why did you say it, then?”

“People have them as pets, and when they get too big they release them into the wild even though they’re not supposed to.”