* * *
Dinner was scrumptious. Why did everything eaten out in the open-air taste so much better? Night was coming and Cooper had gotten a campfire going. Dale had brought camp chairs and the cowboys set them up around the fire. With twilight and a fire to warm them, Sarah only needed her lighter coat. She’d never camped out before and was finding the experience to her liking.
“All right, everyone. Gather around,” started Cooper. “We’ve had a great day today – No lost horses or guests.” Everybody laughed at his comment, as they settled in the chairs to listen.
“We have a few cowboys with us who will be participating in the National Cowboy Poetry Gathering in Elko in a few weeks. Maybe we can get them to recite a few poems for us. What do you say?” People began applauding and looking around to see which cowboys would speak up. Finally, Frank stood.
“First, does anyone know what cowboy poetry is?” He looked around. No one raised a hand. “All right. Let me explain then. Cowboy poetry came from the tradition of singing songs and talking around a campfire at night after a long, dusty day on a cattle drive. We share our love of rural life in the West and cowboy culture.”
He cleared his throat and began to speak. Frank told a story in poetic form of a friend who used to ride with him. He stood tall and still, cowboy hat on his head, and spoke about a cattle drive that claimed the friend’s life. A sudden storm had caught them unaware, out in the open – No shelter. The herd stampeded and the friend fell off his horse, only to be trampled by panicking cows.
Frank’s voice rose and fell with the intonation of his words. His prose contained certain rhythmic cadences and he was hypnotizing. People listened and stared. Tears glistened on cheeks to hear of the friend’s death. When he finished, he took a bow, acknowledging applause from the little group.
After Frank, Aaron and Richie both got up to recite a poem or two. They had all written their own work and they spoke of love for the cowboy way of life. Their homes in Nevada… Orange and pink skies at dusk, bright yellow suns at dawn… Poems sang without singing. Imaginary storms came and went, leaving damp ground and moist air. The feeling was one of freshness, longing for a simpler life.
The audience was mesmerized and insisted on more when they’d all finished. Sarah’s face mirrored other faces that found their poetry hypnotic, nostalgic. Sweet and charming, yet sometimes alarming.
After the poetry, Frank, Tyler and Richie pulled out their guitars and began playing a few songs that everyone knew. There was a big sing-along featuring Red River Valley, Someday Soon, and Rocky Mountain High. While all were singing, Matt quietly asked Sarah to take a walk with him. With the opaque moon high in the sky peeking over a blackened mountain, they strolled a while listening to night sounds.
They walked a path through a few pine trees. Sarah was listening intently to everything.
“Was that an owl?” she asked him.
“Yes, that’s a barn owl,” replied Matt smiling. “You really are a city girl, aren’t you?”
“… Well, yes, but I’m learning.”
He smiled at her. “Good. Keep learning.”
They walked on and listened more. “Any mountain lions around here?” she asked. She stood still, listening to the wind blowing softly through the trees.
“Nope. They’re generally in more rugged territory than this, areas where deer are plentiful.” He turned to her. “Have you seen any deer?”
She relaxed. “No, I guess not.”
Matt took her hand as they began walking again. He laced his fingers with hers.
“Is this all right with you?”
“Yes,” she replied shyly, though not looking at him.
They could hear the singing from the group echoing in the trees and coming to rest at their feet.
“Are you enjoying your visit to Nevada?”
“Very much.” She started to say something else, but voices up ahead caught their attention. Matt and Sarah stopped to listen.
One voice was angry, a girl’s. The other voice was insistent, a guy’s. Matt didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to figure out what was going on. He hurried Sarah along to find those voices.
“No, stop,” said the girl.
“Come on. You’ll have fun.”
Then Matt and Sarah heard the sound of a slap and walked into sight of the pair. It was Aaron and one of the teenage girls. It didn’t look good.
“Aaron, what’s going on here?” said Matt looking at him seriously.
“… We’ll just having a little fun,” said Aaron.
“She doesn’t look like she’s having any fun. Back off.”
Sarah stood off to one side to let Matt handle the situation.
“We were just…”
“Save it,” he said to Aaron. “Miss, are you all right,” he said, turning to the girl.
“No… I want to leave.” She’d started to cry and Matt looked at Sarah.
“Sarah, will you please take her back to camp? I’ll take care of this.” Then he spoke to the girl. “I’m sure he’s sorry for any trouble he caused you, miss. Rest assured, it won’t happen again.”
“Thanks.” Sarah gave him a questioning look, but put her arm around the girl and started walking her back down the path. Matt watched her leave and then he turned to Aaron with blazing eyes.
“Are you out of your freaking mind?”
“… Ah…”
“Don’t speak. Just listen. First, she’s underage. Second, Mr. Walker will fire you once he learns of this. Are you nuts? What do you think you were doing?”
“Jesus, Matt. Calm down. Who do you think you are? My father?”
“Apparently you need someone to keep you from screwing up. Listen to me. Don’t talk to her again. Don’t look at her again. Got it?”
“Yeah, sure. I got it, Dad.”
“Knock it off, Aaron. You came on too strong obviously, but when a woman says no, it’s no. Besides, she’s way too young.”
“Okay, okay.”
“And don’t mention this to anyone unless you want to lose your job. Believe me, if you breathe her way again, I’ll tell Mr. Walker myself.”
Aaron strode angrily past Sarah coming back up the path. He didn’t look at her, just huffed in anger as he went by. She walked up to Matt as he blew out an exasperated breath, and rubbed his forehead hard.
“You did good, cowboy.”
“Cowboy? Well, I guess that’s a step closer to my name, isn’t it?”
She smiled. “You really handled that situation well. It’s obvious you care about people, about protecting people. I don’t see that very often, and it was another brave thing that I’ve seen you do…”
“What kind of place is Baltimore that people don’t care about other people?” They’d started walking along the path in the trees again.
She shrugged. “I’m sure there are many caring people. Just not many that I know. My world is computers, a grumpy boss and politics. There’s not a lot of love there.”
She’d opened up a bit more to him.
“Tell me about your family.” She gazed up at his soft eyes and took his hand. He held his breath as she laced her fingers through his. “Sarah…”
“I’m getting there. I’m getting there. Breathe.”
He let out a breath and laughed. “I’m ready for the story, ma’am.”
For the next hour, they walked and talked. Sarah told him about her prominent, political family, their expectations and her dread of disappointing anyone. He wanted to know whose life she was living – hers or theirs.
Matt asked questions and Sarah answered them. By the time they’d almost walked their way back to camp, Matt thought he knew most of her troubles that had forced her to escape. He knew her professional dilemma and her personal ones. He marveled that she had the strength to come West all by herself, and he realized she was looking for a new life. More importantly, he knew that she trusted him.
Before t
hey were back at the campsite, Matt stopped and glanced at her soft hand that he was still holding. Then he looked into her lovely face.
“You seem pretty alone in your life.”
“… I have my friend, Abby, and…”
“You know what you need, Sarah?”
“What?” She grinned at him. What a know-it-all! Though maybe a pretty cute know-it-all.
“You need to find a way to ride the river.”
“Ride the river? Is that some kind of cowboy code?”
“… It means to find someone you can count on. Someone who’ll be there for you.”
He watched her face as she turned that over. She was thoughtful, would think things through.
“Riding the River… I like how that sounds.” Sarah looked down at their entwined hands, then back up at his smiling face. “I’ve never met anyone like you before…”
“Matt. I’ve never met anyone like you before, Matt.”
“Wait for me. I’m a little slow.” She blushed under his questioning gaze.
“I’ll wait.” His eyes seemed to be sketching her face. “Do you know why you won’t say my name?”
“You’re just full of answers tonight, aren’t you?”
“… Because once you do, that’ll be it.”
“What do you mean?” She knit her eyebrows in confusion.
He just smiled at her. When she stifled a yawn, he laughed. “Let’s go. You’re tired and we have a big day tomorrow. Did you get your tent up?”
“Yes, I just hope Richie’s not in it.” That made them both chuckle as they walked happily back to camp. Clasped hands swinging slightly between them.
* * *
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Riding the River (The Westerners, Book One) Page 22