The Middle of Somewhere(39)

“Stuff.”

Dante said, “We can take some of it, can’t we, Liz?”

“Sure. It’s only a few miles.” The code was the code.

Payton reached inside his brother’s pack and pulled out the gear he wanted them to carry: the stove, the tent, a couple of fuel canisters, a half-empty bear can.

“Just don’t give me any of his dirty socks,” Liz said.

She fit everything inside her pack, except the tent, which she strapped to the outside, and the bear can, which Dante put under the top flap of his pack. He lashed his sleeping bag to the bottom.

Payton was stuffing gear back into Rodell’s pack when a shirt fell to the ground. He scooped it up with lightning speed, but not before Liz glimpsed what appeared to be the etched handle of a pistol. Payton twisted casually to see if she or Dante had noticed, but Liz had already turned away to hoist her pack.

A gun wasn’t illegal in the wilderness, except in the National Parks and unless you actually hunted with it. But, Liz wondered, if you didn’t intend to shoot things, why would you bring it?





CHAPTER THIRTEEN





At the ranch, three women on horseback herded two dozen horses into a corral. Liz and Dante were forced to wait for the procession to pass. Liz wasn’t much of a judge of horseflesh, but these made a good impression: shiny coats, flowing manes and tails, not a swayback in sight. Dante pointed out his favorite, a spirited palomino.

“What is it with men and blondes?” she said.

A woman in a battered safari hat returned to close the gate. They told her about Rodell and asked if someone could help him get off the trail. She nodded and said she’d take care of it.

“How far is the hospital?” Liz asked.

“Oakhurst’s the best bet. But he’d be lucky to get that far tonight, unless he’s really a mess. If he wants to leave here tonight, we’ll ride him out to the road. That’s four miles. He might get a lift from someone out of Jackass campground to the ranger station. That’s another seven miles. They’d know what to do with him.”

“Not a very convenient place to get hurt.”

She nodded. “And this is the civilized part.”

The resupply shed was adjacent to the corral. Inside the windowless room, a hunched woman peered at a computer screen and jiggled a mouse. When she stood, she came to just above Liz’s waist. She was in her eighties and wore a plaid shirt with pearl buttons. Her polyester slacks stopped a few inches shy of her orthopedic shoes, revealing dingy white socks. Liz wondered how a person so small could have pants too short. The woman took her name, disappeared behind a rack of shelves, and reemerged, tipped to one side to counterbalance the bucket’s weight.

Dante moved toward her. “Here, let me help you.”

She waved him off. “I do this all summer, son.”

They left Rodell’s gear beside the shed, as they had arranged, and went to a nearby building to check in. Behind the counter in the cramped room, a young woman with hair like the tail of a chestnut mare was braiding a halter rope.

“Electricity’s out. We’ll run your card later.”

Dante said, “Have you got wireless?”

“We do but we don’t give out the code. The bandwidth is teensy.” She pointed behind them to a laptop perched on a wooden crate. “Ten bucks for fifteen minutes, when it’s working.”

His shoulders fell.

Liz said, “It’s better than nothing. You can try later.”

The woman loaded them into a golf cart and began the tour. The ranch had a couple dozen buildings, most made of log. Half were cabins for rent. The rest were special purpose: a store, a kitchen, a lounge, a bathhouse and accommodations for the staff. Liz and Dante had reserved a tented cabin—a wooden platform with canvas walls and roof. These were clustered at the back of the property facing a large stand of aspen embroidering a bend in the river.

“Yours is the Tenthouse,” the woman said. “My favorite.”

The Tenthouse was perched eight feet off the ground and sported a deck at the front as large as the cabin.

They thanked the woman and climbed wooden steps to the deck. Dante pulled aside the curtain door and ushered Liz inside. There was a full bed and a twin, covered in matching quilts, a set of shelves and a bare lightbulb with a pull string near the bigger bed.

“So luxurious!” she said, running her hand along the stained and faded quilt. “I’d give it the full five pinecones.”