Something Wilder(9)

Walt offered a small wave. “Miss… um, is it ‘miss’? ‘Mrs.’? Or would ‘ma’am’ be better?”

“It’s Nicole, but ‘miss’ would be a lovely change of pace. ‘Miss Nicole’ has a particularly nice ring to it.”

“Okay, Miss Nicole?” he said then, looking around the growing blackness. “Where are we, exactly?”

“Bus depot.” She circled them, inspecting. “Bus doesn’t go all the way to camp, so I’m here to get you.” She let out an abrupt, unimpressed grunt. “You wore loafers to the desert?”

“They’re driving shoes and they’re orthopedic,” Bradley explained. “Recommended by my podiatrist.”

“A butt doctor?”

A laugh tore from Leo before he could hold it in.

Bradley paused. “Never mind.”

Walter’s bag sat on the nearest bench, and Nicole did a double take at something visible through the open flap, reaching in and pulling out a bright blue plastic gadget with a nozzle on one end and an accordion-shaped bottle on the other. “The hell is this?”

“It’s a Tushy,” Walter explained, reaching for it and shoving it back inside. “A portable bidet.”

“A bidet?” In the glare of the headlights, Nicole’s eyes were bright with amusement. She tipped her hat back, and Leo felt the rustle of awareness pass around the group: she was even prettier with her whole face visible. “I’ve seen folks bring some crazy shit out here,” she said, “but that’s a new one. Had one guy think he could wear nipple clamps the whole ride. A bachelorette party brought at least a dozen vibrators. I promise neither of those things pairs well with a week on a horse.” She leaned forward, lifting a booted foot to rest on a wooden plank. “Besides, honey, I can just toss you in the river if you like your bottom scrubbed, and that don’t take up space in your backpack.”

Bradley preened. “I told you this trip was going to be awesome.”

“I’m sorry,” Walter cut in, holding up a shaking hand, “but it sounds like you just said something about a week on a horse.”

“That’s why you’re here, precious. To be cowboys. We take you to the Outlaw Trail on horseback. You leave all your smartphones and loafers and smart toilets behind. There’ll be open sky and meals by the campfire. Games and puzzles and—if you’re lucky—real-life hidden treasure.”

“Games?” Terry asked gruffly. “Puzzles? What the fuck kind of operation is this?”

Unruffled, Nicole gave him a good once-over and then winked. “The kind that’s gonna keep you alive out here.”



* * *



A long day of travel rendered Leo too tired and cranky to make small talk, but as Terry droned on in the back seat about topographical maps, the formation of slot canyons, and God knew what else, Bradley eagerly peppered Nicole with questions.

“Where are we going?”

“To camp.”

“Who else will be there?”

“The boss is getting the horses situated.”

“You’re not the boss?”

“I am when Dub’s not around.”

“Are there cabins?”

“Tents.”

“Are you single?”

Ignoring this, Nicole slowly pulled a knife still wrapped in its leather sheath from her side and set it on her thigh.

Walt leaned in. “Just to clarify, will there be flushing toilets out on the trail?”

At this, Nicole laughed for a long time, but the answer was unfortunately no.

Unfazed, Bradley leaned back in his seat, face turned up to the wind. “Smell that air, ye lads. No pollution, no exhaust. This is the life of the adventurer, the life of the man out on the frontier.” He lifted his shirt, slapping his ribs. “My chest hair is growing. I can feel my fangs coming in.”

Walter stuck his head out the window and unleashed a trembly roar before ducking back in, coughing. “I inhaled a bug.”

“Some big ones out here,” Nicole confirmed.

“I’m telling you,” Bradley said, ignoring this and turning around in the front seat to face his friends, “this is going to be fucking awesome. A week with no responsibilities. I may never leave. Plus”—he motioned to himself—“you’ve got a real-life Howard Carter on your team.”

At Nicole’s questioning glance, Leo clarified, “The guy who found King Tut. Bradley’s a professor of archaeology.”

Terry scoffed and the wind whipped his wispy beard. “Yeah, but he doesn’t go out into the field. I’m the only one here who’s ever spent actual time in a slot canyon.”

“What’s a slot canyon again?” Walter asked.

Terry leaned back, happy to spout off to a captive audience. “They’re long, narrow gorges and channels caused by thousands of years of water penetrating cracks in soft sandstone.”

Bradley looked from Terry to Walter. “Did anyone else think that entire sentence was unnecessarily suggestive?”

Nicole met Walter’s eyes in the mirror and clarified, “Like a really long, skinny hallway carved into the rock.”

“Oh!” Walter said, satisfied. “That could be cool.”