George leaned close to be heard. “Are you sure you don’t want to wait for the weather to break? This is going to make for miserable riding.”
“Negative. We want to find our, um, friend.” Orion’s voice sounded even more foreign in these surroundings, and his skin was darker than most of the people George knew in Wyoming. So was Luke and Juice’s, for that matter. “Do you got a map or something to show us the road to this Highland Park?”
“Nope. That’s what I’m for.” George smiled.
“No offense, but I’m a man who likes to see the lay of the land.”
“I’m sorry. There aren’t really any good maps of that area, so I didn’t bring one.” Maps of trails in Cloud Peak Wilderness were notoriously unreliable. Most of the guides and outfitters just learned the mountain and passed on what they knew to each by word of mouth.
“Draw me a picture with words, then.”
George frowned. “I don’t follow you.”
“Explain the route to me in English. Capisce?” Orion sounded irritated.
George had watched The Godfather. He might not know what capisce meant, but he didn’t need to speak Italian to understand what Orion meant. He cleared his throat and pointed back out at the road they’d driven in on. “We’ll follow this road to its end, where it turns into the Little Goose Trail. After about three miles, Little Goose merges with Solitude Trail. You take Solitude another mile or two up and you’ll end up on Highland Park.”
“Easy enough.” He nodded. “Now, what kind of park is Highland?”
George was a smart enough guy, he usually thought, but half the stuff Orion said made no sense to him. “What do you mean?”
“Just what I said. What kind of park? Is it for kids, is it like Central Park, you know, big and for everybody, or is it more of an empty space?”
George would have laughed if his client wasn’t deadly serious. “More of an empty space.”
“Is there a sign or a landmark or something, so we’ll know when we get there?”
Again, George kept a straight face. But he was beginning to wonder if Orion had any sense. Any at all. “No. But you can’t miss it. It’s a big, flat, grassy area at the base of the peaks.”
“Sounds really memorable.” Orion raised his eyebrows at Luke and Juice.
The two men laughed.
“Trust me. After all the boulder fields we’ll pass in the area, you’ll recognize it when we get there. As for finding your friend, from the park, there are trails heading off in a couple directions, but there’s also a lot of visibility. If he’s out in the open, we’ll see him. If not, I know some popular camping spots we could check out first, before we go too crazy.”
“If you say so.” Orion nodded. “Little Goose to Solitude to the grassy meadow. Got it. Now, how do you cowboys say it?” He made a goofy face and deepened his voice. “Head ‘em down and move ‘em out?”
Again, Orion looked at his buddies, and, again, as if on command, Luke and Juice laughed.
It was the worst imitation of John Wayne George had ever heard. “Something like that.” He felt ridiculed. And it was clear these men had no experience with the West except for the movies and very little in the outdoors. He got a bad feeling about their experience level with horses. When Orion had called to book George to take them on horseback into the mountains, he’d assumed they could ride. “Have you guys ridden before?”
“You mean a horse?” It was the first time Luke had spoken in front of George. His accent was similar to Orion’s but sounded flatter. He brushed water off his face, and George saw a crude tattoo of a clock face with no hands on the back of his hand. George had never seen anything like it in Wyoming.
What did he think George meant if not a horse? “Yes. A horse.”
“Nah. But how hard can it be?”
Juice shook his head. “Speak for yourself. One of those beasts already tried to bite me. I don’t like them.”
While Juice and Luke were disconcertingly similar in appearance, George could now tell them apart, and not just because of Luke’s clock tattoo. Something was wrong with one of Juice’s eyes. It was red, and the iris seemed to float. Like he’d been hit in the eye, hard, or too many times.
“Don’t be a wimp, Juice.” Orion held up a hand. “Mr. Nichols, give us a quick lesson. Very quick.”
George took five minutes to show the men how to mount and dismount, stop and go, turn and back up. “The most important things are to keep your weight on the balls of your feet in the stirrups and to stay calm. Horses pick up on anxiety, and a scared horse is a dangerous one.”
Juice’s eyes cut to the horses. His breathing had grown shallow during George’s demonstration.
“Piece’a cake. I’m more concerned about bears,” Orion said.
“Predators aren’t usually a problem out here. We have black bears and mountain lions, but they don’t want to see you any more than you want to see them. The most dangerous animals out here are the moose. They can be aggressive, so if you see one, hold your horse back.”
“What’s a moose?” Juice’s voice squeaked.
“Think ‘giant deer,’” Orion said. “Bambi, ya know?”
Not exactly. More like long legged grizzlies. But George didn’t correct him. “I’m going to ride in front. We’ll ride single file.”
“That’s fine as long as you keep up the pace.”
George nodded. He’d go as fast as the men and horses were capable of, and no faster. “Highland Park is about ten miles from here. It should take us two hours to get there.”
Luke sneered. “We could walk it faster than that.”
“Your horse would probably appreciate it. Feel free to jump off and lead yours any time you want.” George crossed his arms. Juice laughed, but then coughed into his hand when Luke and Orion didn’t join him. “The terrain is steep and rough. We have to give the horses and ourselves enough time to adjust to the altitude. Altitude affects people differently. For some it can be fatal.” George couldn’t remember the medical jargon for the high-altitude conditions that killed people, so he moved on quickly, before the men could ask him about it. “And the horses need to stay fresh enough that they’ll be able to do whatever we need them to once we’re up there. Like haul out your friends.”
“Or haul out something.” Luke guffawed.
Orion frowned and held up a hand. “Luke apologizes for his bad attitude. We’ll be fine. And, Mr. Nichols, here’s the first half of your fee.” He counted out five one-hundred-dollar bills and put the damp paper into George’s hand. “I’ll give you the other half when we get back. And, if we finish, our, um, rescue in twenty-four hours, there’s another five hundred in it for you. A little, ya know, incentive pay.”
George perked up. Fifteen hundred was more than he’d made in the entire summer so far, and it would be his pay day for one weekend in August? He could put up with a few demanding, inexperienced city slickers with smart mouths for that. He could push the horses for that. He stuffed the bills into his wallet. “Thank you, Orion. Now, did you put the supplies in the saddle bags?”
“Beef jerky, Slim Jims, candy, and bug spray into the bags. Check.”
“I’ve got the sleeping rolls, a large tent, and plenty of canteens of water.” George nodded. “Time to mount up then.”
“Yee haw,” Luke said.
This time, George thought about his fifteen hundred dollars and felt a lot less ridiculed.
He shut the trailer gate and pointed the men to their horses, patting his pocket to make sure he had put the truck keys in them. Then he helped the men onto their horses and adjusted stirrups and reins. Scooping up the pony lines for Yeti and another big lunker he’d borrowed from the ranch and whose name he didn’t know, he mounted a buckskin named Junior, his own ride. The pack horses were loaded down with most of the supplies and food they’d be carrying in, plus extra empty bags, at Orion’s request for his lost friend’s things. The other horses were snorting and dancing, unhappy with the strange riders and
excessive weight. The men looked just as unhappy with them, and were even more vocal, with more than a few shouts and curses. There was nothing George could do about it. They would all have to work it out on the trail. Or not.
But he was more motivated than before to make sure that they did.
He gave the signal to move out, lifting his arm and gesturing with an open, sideways palm in the direction they were to go. Three pairs of blank eyes stared back at him. He swallowed a sigh. This group of greenhorns was going to be a handful. He clucked to Junior and gave the animal a little rib pressure. The horse took off at a brisk trot, tugging Yeti and the lunker behind him. The Lunker. That’s what I’ll call him.
Hail and rain pelted George in the face. Junior reached the road. His hooves splashed up mud with every step. It was going to be a long, hard ride in these conditions. George decided he needed to put a positive spin on things. There’d be no bonus for him if the men gave up.
George rotated in the saddle to face the other men. “With our head start and at the pace we’ll be going, we’ll beat Search & Rescue up to your friends.”
Orion snorted. “There won’t be any Search & Rescue. We’re keeping this a private matter. For the sake of a marriage, ya know.”
George started to argue the folly of that decision. Search & Rescue had helicopters, stretchers, and trained personnel—the equipment and manpower for real emergencies. But one look into Orion’s cool, black eyes changed his mind. Besides, this might not be an emergency. It might just be a case of two people who weren’t ready to get back to reality yet.
Still, for a moment, doubt washed over him. What was he getting himself into? It would be a miracle if he got these three all the way up to Highland Park. And if they ran into trouble there, what would he do then?
He tried to think of a good reason to back out and forget Orion had ever called him, but his thinking didn’t last long. Not with fifteen hundred good reasons to keep going.
Chapter Sixteen: Friend
East Fork of the Little Goose, Cloud Peak Wilderness, Bighorn Mountains, Wyoming
Friday, August 12, 1977, 2:45 p.m.
Perry
The only thing worse than riding in wet clothes on a wet saddle down a steep mountain in a storm was doing it after his best friend had kicked his face in, or at least that was Perry’s opinion. His mouth wouldn’t stop bleeding. He sounded weird when he talked. His whole face hurt, as his dad would have said, like a son of a gun. Honestly, it was taking all he had not to be mad at John, and John wasn’t making it any easier. He hadn’t said he was sorry, for one thing. For another, the guy had lost his marbles. He’d screamed and kicked like a little kid up at the park. And he was giving Perry the cold shoulder now. None of it was Perry’s fault. So why wouldn’t John speak to him? Or even look at him?
Perry ground his teeth. He wanted to chew John out so bad, but he held it in. He kept his eyes forward, over John’s head, which wasn’t hard, since he was on the ground, leading Plug behind Trish and Henry.
Perry was glad he was on a horse. Behind him, his dad was leading the crash survivor guy—Eddie—on Reno. He understood his dad had to let Eddie ride because the man’s arm was hurt, but Perry thought John was crazy not to ride Plug. It was a long walk. In wet boots. His dad and John would have a ton of blisters before long.
John slid a few feet down the trail, screaming until he regained traction. The mountainside was so muddy, it was like it was flowing. Perry had thought it would be easy to find the trail out of Highland Park, but the storm had changed things. If Perry had been the navigator, they would be lost right now. He was glad Henry was in charge.
Plug pulled back from John, backing his rump into Duke’s nose. Duke had been following too close. Normally a slow walker on the way out, he picked up the pace when he knew he was heading home. Plug snorted and shimmied sideways. The horse seemed nervous. Perry didn’t blame him. After John had gone nuts, Perry was a little nervous around him, too.
“Everyone okay?” Henry shouted.
Duke tossed his head. Perry patted him on the neck. “I’m good.”
“Me, too,” Trish said.
“We’re all right,” Patrick called.
John didn’t answer. Henry glanced back at him. Perry saw a flash of annoyance in Henry’s eyes before he turned back around.
The ground leveled out and Perry detected a loamy odor. They were by the creek where they had eaten lunch. The trail stayed flat for about a minute, then the uphill started again. Duke made funny hub-bub-a-bub sounds with his lips and slowed down, his way of protesting. Perry leaned forward to stay perpendicular to the horizon.
“You’re going to be all right, boy,” he said.
After about fifteen yards of climbing, Duke stopped for a few deep breaths. Perry felt sorry for him. It was a tough trail, and he was smaller than the other horses and carrying Perry the whole way. “Dad, Duke is really tired. Do we need to stop for a rest or to give him something to eat?”
His dad said, “They’re fine. They could do twice this if they had to.”
Perry decided Duke was going to get extra oats and back scratching when they got home. He felt sorry for him, and for his dad and the other horses. Not for John, though. Maybe when his mouth quit hurting, he’d feel differently. “Hey, Dad. Do you think my tooth will grow back in?”
His dad laughed. “Sorry, but, no, it won’t. We’ll be paying for the dentist’s first kid to go to college.”
Perry thought about being toothless and funny-looking. Just because he wasn’t thrilled that John was making eyes at Kelsey right before football season started, that didn’t mean Perry didn’t like girls. He had been hoping to find a girlfriend after football was over. But who would like a short guy with missing teeth? “What will they do?”
“They’ll give you an artificial one. It will be all right.”
“It’ll be all right.” Trish turned to him and grinned. “You already look like a dork anyway.”
Perry gave her a dirty look. “How long will that take, Dad?”
“Well, you’ll be singing “All I Want for Christmas Is My One Front Tooth” this year.”
Henry and Trish laughed.
Great. Finding a girlfriend would be out of the question. He’d be the shortest guy on the football team and the last one to kiss a girl.
Ahead of him, he heard Henry say, “Whoa, there. Hold up, everyone.”
Perry sat back in the saddle, and Duke stopped.
Around a bend in the trail, Perry heard a man talking to Henry. Perry couldn’t understand him, but his tone of voice sounded rude.
Henry said, “Sorry. Rules of the trail, mister. Hikers move aside for horses. We won’t be but a second.”
The man’s voice got louder. Then a second person joined in, not rude or nearly as loud. A woman, it sounded like.
Henry kept his tone calm. “I don’t make the rules. They’re just good sense when you mix people with a bunch of one-thousand-pound animals who don’t know them. As you can see, we can’t move them into the trees to let you by. But, hey, if you want to make your way through us with your bear bells and your big packs, we can’t stop you and good luck to you.”
Duke let his head droop, making the most of the rest break. A man with long brown hair in a low ponytail came into view. He was wiry and short, with a pack that towered over his head. In his hands were two metal walking sticks that looked like ski poles. He was swinging them with every step. Goldie snorted and jumped backwards down the trail when one came within inches of her nose. Rocks tumbled down the trail. The horse couldn’t get traction and slid a few more feet. Trish kept her balance, and Goldie came to a stop with her legs splayed. Moaning, John scrambled to the side so she wouldn’t land on him. He was breathing fast and heavy, too, and his shoulders were shaking. Plug sat back and pulled against his lead rope. Duke’s head popped back up.
“Control your animals,” the man shouted. “We have to get out of this weather.”
“Like we don’t,�
�� Perry said under his breath.
Henry now sounded stern. “Keep your sticks down, mister. You’re scaring the horses.”
“I need them for balance in this mud.” The man turned. “Hurry, Alicia. We need to get far away from these rubes.”
A pretty black woman appeared behind him on the trail. Her hair was so short it was almost shaved. She whispered, “I’m sorry,” to Trish and John as she passed them and kept her walking sticks clutched to her body.
The man’s pack bumped into Duke’s shoulder as he went by. “Make some room,” he snarled at Perry. “This trail is dangerous enough in this weather without you guys blocking the way.”
Perry made wide eyes back at his dad. There was nowhere to go to get away from the hiker. What did the guy expect he could do?
His dad shrugged and smiled at him. He mouthed, “It will be okay.”
Perry smiled back. But then his smile turned to a frown. Reno was riderless. “Where’s Eddie?” he said.
His dad’s brows furrowed, and he looked up at Reno’s back. “Son of a buzzard bait.”
The male hiker stopped short in front of Reno. “Is that animal vicious?” He stabbed a hiking stick toward Reno.
Reno swished his tail and cocked a hoof.
“Yes,” Patrick said without looking at him. He was too busy scanning the forest for Eddie.
“How am I supposed to get past him?”
Perry was starting to get angry. Did this man not understand that if he scared the horses, all of them could get hurt? “You weren’t supposed to. You were supposed to yield the trail. It’s a safety rule. So, I guess you’re just going to have to take your chances. Reno doesn’t usually kick until you get past him, though, so you may be fine.”
Perry heard the lisp through his missing tooth, but he was too mad to care. Then he realized he might be in trouble with his dad for talking that way to a grown-up. He bit his lip, then released it. It hurt where he’d split it. Luckily, his dad was distracted. Perry glanced up at Henry, who gave him an approving nod.
Snaggle Tooth Page 9