Adrian laughed harder.
They parked the van in the adjoining campsite. Tom yanked open the back doors and started hauling out the camping gear. Four neat little nylon bags holding four tents, tent poles, tent stakes and directions - but not a single student around to help. He called, but no one came. Still grumbling, he tugged the drawstring to pull the first tent out of its sack.
"Now stop right there," Adrian said, taking the tent from him. He tossed it back onto the ground. "I'm going to give you a few tips, and you're going to thank me. Let the punishment fit the crime. If they aren't here to set up their tents, then they can sleep on the ground."
"But it will be too hard to do after dark," Tom started.
"Too bad. Let them learn that the hard way. You and I will set up our tents. We will fix our own meal. They can sleep on the damp ground and go to bed hungry. You'll find them a lot more respectful tomorrow."
Tom gave his friend a doubtful look, but with a shrug of his shoulders, he caved. "Fine. Tough love."
Within fifteen minutes they had their small tents pitched over ground tarps, the excess tucked under the bottom of the tent so dew or rainwater wouldn't collect on it. Tom shook charcoal into the grill and lit it. Adrian uncorked two beers.
"I wasn't going to bring any alcohol on this trip," Tom reminded him. Some of the students weren't old enough to drink, and being that this was associated with the school, he couldn't risk any bad publicity.
"You didn't bring it," Adrian said. "I did. And I'll keep it locked up. I'm not going to share it with anyone but you. But it sounds like after the day you've had, you really need it."
Tom wasn't much of a beer drinker, but it was cold. He drank it a bit too fast, and then Adrian handed him another. Adrian took over the dinner preparations, grilling two hamburgers and warming a can of beans. They ate their meal, cleaned up, and were just enjoying nature's evening song around the faint glow of the dying embers before the students stumbled back to camp.
"What's for dinner?" a boy asked.
Tom squinted, trying to make out who it was. Maybe Jimmy. No - Jimmy was the taller boy behind him. That must be Henry. Henry only minored in history. He was an education major. Tom had thought he would be a great addition to the team, as he might help them to relate to school groups better. He had to get Henry's cooperation.
"We already ate," Adrian said smugly.
"Did you eat it all? What are we going to eat?"
"You missed it. You'll make sure not to miss dinner again, won't you." Adrian gave him a friendly shoulder slap. "By the way, have fun setting your tents up in the dark."
"But - but - you can help us," Henry blurted. "We never put it together before."
"Neither have we," Tom said, beginning to enjoy himself for the first time all day. "It comes with directions."
"But it's dark! How can we read it?"
"You'll figure it out. You're a smart college kid, right?"
Tom climbed into his little tent, but he didn't close the flap. He kept a watchful eye on the students, to make sure none of them did something dangerous.
He was pleased to see that the girls didn't struggle too much. They had a flashlight and shone the light over the assembly directions. Before long, working together, they had their tent up and were unrolling their sleeping bags. The boys, on the other hand, had tugged all the poles and stakes from their bags, ignoring the directions, and after much swearing and grumbling, had to give up. They ended up sleeping right on the ground. Late in the night Tom heard them complain about how their sleeping bags were damp. He smiled. Maybe Adrian had been right this time.
Tom was up early. He didn't entirely trust the students not to play some prank on him. He showered and dressed, then started a pot of coffee over his Coleman stove. Did any of the kids drink coffee? He had to remind himself that they were young adults, not children, although their behavior didn't reflect that. Well, if he hadn't made enough, they could buy some by the cup at a quick stop before they got on the road again.
His heart skipped a beat as a certain blonde emerged from her tent. She'd slept in her clothes, thank God. He didn't know how he was going to make it through the summer if she came out of her tent in slinky pajamas. Her hair, always a bit on the wild side, framed her face in a profusion of kinks and curls. He'd love to take a hairbrush to it, to tame it... to tangle his fingers in it. Seeing the ever-present scowl on her pretty features reminded him of other uses for a hairbrush, as well.
"Good morning," he said neutrally.
"Morning," she acknowledged. "I'm starved. Do we get to eat this morning, or do we have to say 'pretty please,'?"
Tom chuckled. "Since you asked nicely, I'll make breakfast today," he said. "Do you drink coffee?"
She nodded, eying him suspiciously.
He poured some into a tin mug, leaving enough room at the top to add cream or sugar. He gestured to a small camp stool where both additions were located, along with stir sticks and napkins weighted down with a smooth stone. Carrie accepted the mug eagerly, wrapping her fingers around it. She inhaled deeply, but just enjoyed the scent while she waited for it to cool to drinking temperature.
"Are you cold?" he asked.
She shrugged. It didn't seem like she was being sullen or rude, but more like she wasn't much of a morning person. He dug in his duffle bag, withdrawing a red and white zippered hoodie with the school's emblem on the front. He offered it to her.
"Thanks," she said. She put it on, pulling up the zipper to her chin. She looked adorable wrapped in his sweatshirt, which was at least three sizes too big for her.
"We can have a campfire in the mornings at Fort Laramie," Tom said. "But I didn't think we'd need one today. I'd like to get on the road soon, and I don't want to leave hot coals behind."
"This is fine," she quietly. "I'm only cold because I'm still a little sleepy. Once I wake up, I'll be fine."
Tom got busy fixing eggs over the little Coleman stove. Before long, he placed a scoop of scrambled eggs on a plate for her, pairing it with a powdered sugar donut. He continued scrambling eggs as more sleepy, grumpy students rejoined the land of the living. It was after ten before their bellies were filled, the dishes washed, and all their used and unused gear was loaded back into the van.
The second day wasn't quite as difficult as the first. The boys were sullen, but less fractious. The girls smirked a bit, lording it over their male counterparts, who had been unable to get a good night's sleep on the cold, damp ground. Tom tried to engage whoever rode up front with him in conversation, but after multiple attempts, he gave up. He found a radio station that played not-too-awful music and drove the remainder of the journey lost in his own thoughts.
It was late afternoon when they arrived at their destination. Fort Laramie didn't look like much at first glance. The ground was mostly barren - few trees to offer shade from the blaring summer sun and the yellowed grass reflected a lack of rain. A few buildings remained from the original fort, and a few had been rebuilt. Gone was the original wooden palisade, and the subsequent adobe walls. The North Platte River marked the eastern boarder of the historic site, while the Laramie river wove lazily through the very heart of the 833-acre park.
He had been here several times already, working with the park's few full-time employees and eager, but aging volunteers. Camping wasn't allowed at the fort itself, but there was a small campground just a few miles away - close enough that the students could walk to and from the fort if they had to. Tom drove across a bridge, behind a historic farm, and pulled into the campground bordering the Laramie River.
"Okay, everybody, we're here," he announced, somewhat anticlimactically.
They spilled from the van, groaning a little as they stretched cramped muscles.
"No one disappears until all the tents are pitched," Tom said sternly. "Henry, Jimmy and Doug - you three are on k-p."
"Huh?"
"Kitchen patrol. You're responsible for cooking dinner tonight."
"Can't we just have
cold cuts sandwiches," Henry complained.
"No. We've had that for lunch two days in a row," Tom reminded him. "And we'll probably have it for lunch again tomorrow. Don't worry, I'll stick around to help you out - but I will not cook for you. If you disappear, your team mates will go to bed hungry again."
"Don't even think about it," Chayton growled, looming menacingly over Henry. Nearly six years his senior, Chayton was a big man. He could make some of the football players think twice about crossing him.
The students merged into groups of three - the girls getting their tent up with practiced ease. Henry's group was smart enough to watch the girls and imitate their steps, managing to get their tent up almost as fast. Chayton tugged the directions out and shoved them into the hands of a younger student. Without a word, he managed to corral his tent-mates into shape, getting their tent up with a minimum of grunts and growls. The fourth group was so inept that Tom took pity on them. He stepped in and gave them step-by-step instructions in terms a grade-schooler could understand, until finally four sturdy green nylon tents stood lined up in a row, all facing the river. Nine of the students were then dismissed, free to roam the area, or explore the Fort on their own, while Henry's team started on dinner preparations. Tom was optimistic. This summer might work out after all.
* * *
"I need a shower," Julie groaned, tugging the front of her shirt away from her as if the act would create a breeze to lower her body temperature a notch. "I studied all about Fort Laramie - the history, the customs of the time, the responsibilities of the women - but I never thought about the climate! This is nasty - and it's only the first week in June! What's it going to feel like when summer gets here?"
"Tom said the bathroom is in there," Carrie said, pointing to a cement block structure in the distance. It was going to be a trek in the middle of the night.
Julie shuddered. "Might as well check it out." She pulled a smaller zippered bag from a matching suitcase, added a change of clothes and a towel, then emerged from the tent.
Carrie had stuffed her toiletries into a grocery sack.
The walk to the restrooms seemed interminable. The heat was oppressive, like standing in front of a hot oven with the door open. Carrie had been in a sauna once, and hadn't like it, not even after someone dumped water on hot stones to make it steamy. She had lived in Wisconsin all her life, but if the rest of the world were like this, she'd never leave home again.
The restroom had been painted once. Bits of green paint clung to the crevices in the cement block. The metal roof was beige, like the dried up vegetation, the dirt and gravel road in the campground, and the large, bare patches of ground where thoughtless campers had taken a short-cut instead of staying on the path. The letters designating this entrance for women had been recently painted a shiny black.
"Carrie, what did you get us into," Julie breathed, her voice barely loud enough to hear.
"Ew," Carrie answered.
The cement floor was covered with half an inch of dirt. Bird and mouse tracks were visible, along with their spoor. The sinks were stained and dirty, and parts were missing on the toilets. The single shower stall had an enormous spider web inside, and something big had died in it. Julie screamed, dashing out of the restroom fast enough to make the women's track team.
Carrie shook her head. She'd been to some tacky places in her life. High school had been no picnic. But this place took the prize.
"I can't do this," Julie said, tears filling her large, brown eyes. "I know I signed a contract, but I just can't do this! I can't live here! I'm not cut out for this!"
Carrie gave her a shake. "Don't be such a princess. So it's a little dirty. It just needs cleaning."
"You could drop a bomb made from Mr. Clean in there, and it wouldn't make a difference!"
"So? Let's bring it to Tom. He's always telling us how he's in charge. Let him figure this out. We'll tell him that we need clean, useable facilities, or he'll have to let us take a motel in town."
Julie nodded, dabbing delicately at her eyes with a tissue, so she wouldn't smudge her makeup.
Tom was handing out tin plates and eating utensils when they returned to camp. Jimmy dished out servings of hot, canned stew. Henry was in charge of serving canned pears, and Doug doled out slices of buttered bread. A cooler of canned sodas and juices was open at the end of the serving line. "Let's tell him after we eat," Carrie suggested.
"You aren't going to change your mind, are you?" Julie needed to know.
"No, but that restroom is enough to make anyone lose their appetite." Both girls giggled as they went to the back of the line.
"Nice dinner, Henry," Carried teased. "You worked real hard to make this stew, didn't you?"
He blushed, looking kind of cute, for a nerd. "I've never cooked a thing before, Carrie. Gimme a break."
"If you call this cooking. But it's filling and hot, and that's what matters. Thanks, by the way."
Two picnic tables had been pushed together, but it wasn't enough for all of them to sit. Tom and Adrian had their own camp stools. Some of the students had to sit on the ground. While they ate, Tom gave out more rules, more duties, more assignments. Didn't he ever shut up? Carrie's ears were tired of listening to him. She wolfed down her stew in time to get a scoop of seconds before it was all gone. Then she and Julie went to talk to him.
"You have to do something about the restroom," Carrie insisted.
"Why? What's wrong with it?"
"It is filthy."
"So clean it."
"No, Tom. I will keep it clean, but I'm not going to pick up ten years of neglect. You clean it, or take us to a motel tonight."
He scowled at her. "There was nothing in the brochure about a motel. Did you fail to read it?"
"You promised us 'working facilities.' That was in the brochure. Go take a look for yourself. That place is disgusting."
Tom gave her a curt nod, then took off at a jog to do just that. He returned shortly, his face red and a vein in his neck bulging and pulsating. It didn't take a rocket scientist to see that he was pissed. "I'll take care of this," he said. "I'll be back as soon as I can." He raised his voice to get everyone's attention. "While I'm gone, Adrian is in charge. Listen to him! Henry's team cooked dinner tonight. Chayton, you and your tent buddies will clean up the dishes. Jacob, Patrick and Nick will fix breakfast."
"Do the girls got to do breakfast dishes, then?" Henry asked.
"No, Adrian and I will do them."
"All right!"
"No fair! Why don't they gotta cook, too?"
Tom cleared his throat, garnering their attention. "Julie brought up a valid point at the first planning session. The girls are responsible for all lunches - both preparing it and cleaning up. So they do not have to do breakfast or supper, ever."
The grumbling continued, but it was quieter than before. "Girls, I'll be back as soon as I find out who's in charge here, and what they can do to clean that up."
"Thank you, Mr. McKay," Julie said.
Carrie nodded. It wasn't like he was doing them any great favor - he was just doing his job. Still, she hoped he was as good at ordering older people around as he was undergrads.
As soon as Tom left, Carrie ducked into their tent to change into a swimming suit.
"What do you think you're doing?" Julie asked.
"What's it look like? I'm hot, the showers are gross, so I'm going swimming."
"Where? I didn't see a pool anywhere."
"The river."
"Ew! You are not!"
"Julie, did I ever tell you that you're a real princess?"
"Ever since we met," Julie answered. "But you don't know this river. You don't know what might be lurking below the water's surface. There might be snakes, or leeches, or - or something equally gross!"
Carrie shook her head. "I don't care. I'm going swimming, and you are going to come and watch. It's never smart to swim alone."
"I'm not going in there!"
"You don't have to. Just k
eep me company, and call for help if anything goes wrong."
Julie sighed theatrically. "That's not going to happen. If you get hurt, I'm going to let you drown, girlfriend."
A few boys whistled at the girls when they came out of their tent in little bikinis. Chayton glanced at them, but gave a dangerous scowl, then returned to the paperback he was reading. Henry draped an arm around Carrie's shoulder. She slugged him and ducked out from under his grip.
"Tom told everyone to stay out of the river," Henry warned, rubbing his ribs where she'd hit him.
Carrie snorted. "Tom has a Napoleon complex."
"But maybe we should listen to him?" Julie suggested.
"No! I'm hot and tired and I'm a good swimmer. Now get your butt over here and join me!"
"All right," she consented.
The river was wide and lazy, meandering it's way across the flat landscape. Wyoming looked nothing like Wisconsin! At this time of year, Wisconsin was a verdant melody of spring greens interspersed with golden dandelions, apple blossoms, lilac bushes and rose gardens. The grass had been mowed a few times already, and the mosquitos had returned en mass. Here, the tall, sparse grasses were amber-brown and dead, skeletons from the previous season. Tucked down inside were greener shoots, barely visible. Wisconsin didn't have any real mountains to speak of, but parts of it had been missed by the massive glaciers that had once pressed through much of North America, leaving behind a beautifully rugged terrain. It was a popular state for ATV trails, cross-country skiing, bicycling, hiking, and even had a small dog-sled community that was growing in popularity. The only thing Laramie, Wyoming looked suited for was buffalo - although there were none in site.
Carrie stopped at the edge of the river, feeling the first twinge of anxiety. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea? The water was murky; she couldn't see what lay beneath the cloudy surface. She laughed at herself, knowing that no loch ness monsters were lying in wait. It was always just a bit creepy swimming in a new watering hole for the first time. She'd get over it. She dropped her towel, kicked off her shoes and carefully picked her way through the tall grasses until she could dip her toe in.
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