by Laura Crum
"Roses, you know. Old garden roses."
"Really." I stared at the fire. "I like old-fashioned roses."
"I work for Brewer's Roses, in Watsonville," Blue said. "We've got a display garden you can come look at, if you're interested.”
"I'll do that." Inwardly I was trying to put it all together, paint a mental picture of the man beside me. He seemed to be such an interesting juxtaposition of contrasts. Team roper, solitary mountain man, plant breeder. I wouldn't have thought it a likely combination, but there you are. Like his hat, which somehow managed to connote both a cowboy hat and a sophisticated fedora straight out of a forties movie, Blue Winter was hard to categorize.
He was quiet now, seeming content to stare at the fire and take occasional sips from the bottle. I liked the way his face looked in the firelight, still and intense at the same time. I liked his strong chin and the shape of his mouth.
Reaching for the bottle, I took another sip. The tequila was going to my head; I could feel it. I wasn't sure I cared. I wanted to touch Blue Winter's skin.
Roey pressed against me and curled up a little more comfortably. I looked down at her and thought of Lonny. Lonny playing with my puppy. What about Lonny?
I should be loyal to Lonny, as Lonny was, I believed, loyal to me. Nothing that had happened, including my frustration with Lonny or this unexpected proximity to Blue, was a good reason for cheating on my boyfriend.
Even supposing this man had any interest in me. Snap out of it, Gail, I told myself firmly. Quit being an idiot. And no more tequila.
I sat up a little straighter, feeling uncomfortable with myself. I needed to break this strange mood.
"So what's your real name, if you don't mind me asking?" I said.
Blue smiled at the fire. "I don't mind. Robert. When I was a kid, they called me Rob."
"And you got named Blue in Australia."
"That's right. I traveled for a while when I was in my twenties. How about you? Have you done any traveling?"
I shook my head. "No. I'm kind of ashamed to admit it, but I've never been out of California, except for going up to Tahoe. I was born and raised in Santa Cruz County, and my parents died when I was in my last year of high school. I spent my twenties putting myself through college and veterinary school, and then I went into practice."
That was a nice, short, neat summary of my life, I reflected. No pathos, no mention of what a struggle it had all been. No, I hadn't had time or money for traveling. It was only recently that I'd started to feel financially secure.
"So, where do you live?" I asked Blue, wanting to keep the conversation going.
"On the rose farm." He smiled at me. "In a trailer. One of the reasons Katie didn't care for me, I think. It isn't too upscale."
I took that in. "And you keep your horses there, too?"
"That's right. It suits me," he said quietly. "I'm not ambitious. I don't need a lot of money, or a big house. I like where I live."
It was the most personally revealing statement he'd made yet, and I added another facet to my mental image. No doubt about it, this man interested me.
Too much, I told myself. Too much. I stood up. "I think it's time for me to get some sleep. I'm going to drag the saddle pads over near the fire. I'll bring you a few."
"Thanks." Blue remained sitting; I was glad he seemed willing to accept my help when it came to small chores. He needed to conserve his strength for the ride out.
I started to lay the pads near the fire; as I walked by Blue he reached up and brushed my arm. "My rain jacket's in my saddlebags," he said. "We could lay it over us for a blanket."
Us? What did he have in mind?
My thought must have shown on my face. Blue smiled at me. "We'll be warmer if we lie next to each other."
"Uh-huh." I got our respective rain gear out of the saddlebags and brought it over.
Blue patted the pads next to him. "Just lie down here and put the raincoats over us. I'll keep you warm."
I regarded him steadily. "What do you want?" I asked.
"To keep you warm." He met my eyes. "I know you have a boyfriend."
"And you?" I found I really wanted to know the answer to this question.
"No one. I'm a solitary wanderer." He smiled again, but I had the impression the smile concealed some sadness.
I sat on the pads next to him and then lowered myself down on my side. Leaning my head on my hand, I looked at the fire, feeling unsure and uncomfortable. What did I want here?
I could feel him moving, laying raincoats over the two of us with his good arm. "Just relax, Stormy," he said. "I won't bite. Put your head down."
So enjoined, I rested my head on a saddle blanket, which smelled strongly of horse, and closed my eyes. Very gently his hand touched my back, caressing me in long strokes, as one might pet a cat. In another minute he turned, and I felt the warmth of his long, strong back pressed against mine.
"Good night, Stormy," he said.
"Good night."
I wasn't sure if I was disappointed or relieved. Both, I guess. I lay there and listened to Blue Winter breathe and restrained myself forcibly from rolling over and putting my arms around him.
Leave it be, I told myself. If this is meant to happen, it'll happen in its own time, and when it's right.
So I lay against his back, with the fire's warmth on my face, and waited. Some time later, I fell asleep.
Waking up wasn't easy. Not just because of the tequila, though I'm sure it was a factor. Dawn was faint in the sky when I opened my eyes. Immediately I shut them again. I didn't want to wake up.
My head hurt, and the day loomed in front of me like an insurmountable mountain. Besides, it was cold. The fire had gone out during the night.
Blue lay on his back next to me, with his good arm thrown across me like a blanket. I snuggled into the warmth of his body, forgetting all possible reservations. At least he was warm.
Still asleep, too, or so it appeared. He breathed gently and quietly and molded his body against mine.
I wondered what the day would bring, and had an even stronger inclination to keep my eyes shut. Why couldn't I just lie here next to this man, content with the feel of his long, strong body and the peaceful sense I had of him?
But my mind, the incessant chatterer, wouldn't let me alone. The horses are hungry, it said. And what about that fire? Who set it; who's out there? And what are you going to do?
Damned if I knew. Maybe Blue had an idea.
"Are you awake?" I asked.
"No." Blue didn't open his eyes or move.
I started to get up, and felt his arm pinning me down. "Just lie here," he said. "Just for a minute."
I subsided, and looked over at him. Slowly, very slowly, he turned his head so we were face to face. Then he opened his eyes and looked into mine.
"I was wondering if you'd care to give me a kiss," he said. "Just one. Just a token."
Despite everything, I had to smile. I leaned toward him so our lips touched; damn, I'd wanted to do this. He kissed me as gently as he'd touched me last night, and yet firmly, too, with a sense of something more, waiting.
When our lips parted, I kissed him again, with longing and curiosity. It felt good.
This time Blue smiled when I moved away. "That was nice," he said.
"Uh-huh." Now is not the time, I told myself. "We'd better get up and get going," I said out loud.
Blue moved slightly and winced. "You'd better give me another shot of that stuff."
I hesitated. "There's only two doses left."
"I know. But if I'm going to get up and get on that horse, I need something. I can always take codeine to keep going. With any luck, we'll get out to Bridgeport today."
"With any luck." I echoed his words. With luck, and no snipers. But I kept that last bit to myself. What was the point of saying it? We both knew.
"So, do you have a plan?" I asked him as I began filling the syringe.
"Sort of." He gazed up at the sky as I injected the s
hot. "If the smoke's cleared enough, I thought I'd try to get an idea through the binoculars where they're camped."
"You think they're out there, then?"
"Sure. They must wonder what happened to us. That smoke was too thick yesterday for them to see us swim out to the island. At a guess, they're camped at this end of Kerrick Meadow, which is right about there." He pointed a finger in the general direction of the trail that led up the canyon. I could see nothing.
"We really can't get out of here without riding up that canyon," he went on, "and they must know that. What they might not know is that there's a little plateau about halfway up the canyon which will give us a good view of their camp, if they're where I think they are."
"Then what?" I asked.
"Then we make a plan. If we're careful, we can get the advantage on them. Or him. Whoever it is."
We were both quiet. "All right," I said. "Do you figure we'll just shoot whoever it is?"
"I don't know," Blue said. "We'll have to see what's what."
"All right." This didn't sound like a hell of a plan to me, but I acknowledged that it was impossible to know what to do until we understood the situation. We would just have to play it by ear.
Slowly, with numb fingers, I began assembling the gear and saddling the horses. Everybody was impatient, moving about, tossing their heads, stomping their feet. They were hungry.
I was clumsy and short-tempered. Gunner stepped away from me for the third time and I whacked him hard with the end of the lead rope. "Dammit, stand still!"
I could feel Blue's eyes on me, but he said nothing.
Eventually the saddles and what little gear we had was aboard the horses. Blue got stiffly to his feet, and with my help, climbed on Dunny. The sun wasn't yet showing over the eastern ridge when we stood facing the cold water of the lake.
Once again I got my pistol out of the saddlebag. Holding it in my left hand, I gripped the reins and a chunk of Gunner's mane in my right. My heart pounded steadily as the horses waded in. I knew how icy it would feel. I was scared and excited and just plain shivering with cold, all at once.
My feet were brushing the surface of the water now; cold wetness crept up my calves and my thighs, which were tingling with shock. I clung to Gunner's mane and fixed my eyes on the white beach. I just had to hang on till we got there.
Gunner was swimming now; I looked back to see Plumber swimming, too, Roey just behind him. Blue and his two horses were afloat, and Freckles, I was glad to see, had gone right in this time. Maybe she was getting used to swimming.
Once again I looked ahead. To the beach, to the eastern ridge, with the sun about to peek over. Some faint smoke haze still hung in the sky, but nothing like yesterday. I looked over at Blue on the swimming Dunny, his hat tipped forward over his eyes. For just a moment, I saw it all as a picture-cowboys, horses, and dogs, swimming a lake at dawn, under a pale, metallic sky. Something out of a Charles Russell painting.
Then it was back to the present. Freezing cold water lapping at my waist and the horse swimming underneath me, the beach still a long ways off.
We would make it, I told myself. We'd all swum across successfully once before.
Slowly, we drew closer to the beach. I could see the meadow clearly now. It looked empty, and the grass was still green, although some of the aspen were scorched. The forest was pretty black.
We probably would have been okay on the beach, I thought. But the island had felt a lot safer. If only I could get out of this frigging icy water, I'd think we made the right choice.
My legs had gone from tingling to numb to a slow, steady ache. I wondered exactly how cold Benson Lake was.
The beach was close now. I could see our packs on the shore. Not burnt, thank God, or disturbed. There would be dry clothes and food in those packs.
What seemed an eternity, but was probably only a minute or so later, the horses scrambled up on the beach. I heaved a deep sigh of relief and climbed off Gunner.
Then it was back to work-unsaddling the horses and turning them loose to graze, unpacking the packs and searching for food and dry clothes. Feeling considerably less shy, I stepped behind a bush and stripped down to my clammy skin, not particularly worried about whether Blue watched or not. I was too damn cold.
Dry clothes felt good. I stepped back out into the open to see Blue sitting on a log. His shirt was off, but he still wore his dripping jeans and boots.
Belatedly it occurred to me that he might be having a hard time getting them off.
"Do you need help?" I asked.
"I guess so." He sounded sheepish.
"I can help," I said.
"If you could just help me get my boots off," he said.
"Sure."
I bent to the task for the second time, aware as I did so how silly I must appear. The left boot came free; I set it on the ground and looked up at Blue. He was smiling.
I shook my head at him. "So you like having a valet?"
"I don't mind at all. You make a pretty cute valet."
I smiled. In general, I'm not crazy about being called cute, but somehow when Blue said it, I kind of liked it. I pulled off the right boot, set it on the ground, and straightened up. "So what's the plan?"
"The plan is, I put on some dry clothes and we walk up the canyon with the binoculars and see who, if anyone, is camped at the end of Kerrick Meadow."
"Should we leave the horses here?"
"I think so. They need to eat, and they're hungry enough not to wander. If you want to string a run line and put the mare on it, we can be sure they'll stay put."
"Okay." I agreed with Blue. Tying Little Witch up would safeguard us against losing the horses in the event something startled them. After spending several days together, our four equines considered themselves a herd, and the geldings would certainly be unwilling to leave the mare.
I strung a picket line and put Little Witch on it, making sure she could reach plenty of grass. By the time I was done, Blue had changed into dry clothes. Like me, he wore nylon and rubber sandals suitable for walking or swimming. I smiled again.
"You don't look much like a cowboy in those," I said.
He glanced down at his feet, which were as long and slender as his hands, and pretty much snow-white. "I don't know," he said. "Cowboys all have white feet."
"True enough."
We grinned at each other companionably. Despite the problems ahead, I had a faintly euphoric feeling-perhaps the successful swim, perhaps just this man's presence.
Blue seemed to feel the same. Swinging his binoculars by the strap, he gestured at the canyon.
"Lead on," he said.
I led. We walked up the trail, out of the meadow, through the blackened forest, avoiding smoldering tree skeletons and hot spots. The fire was pretty much out, except for the occasional stump. Soon we were clear of the forest and headed up the canyon. Vegetation diminished.
Blue stopped. "Here's where this fire was set." He pointed to various spots. "Here and here and here and here. It looks to me like whoever it was had a hard time getting it going."
"Whoever it was." I said it softly and Blue looked my way. "Come on," I said. "Let's go."
Reaching down, I touched the butt of my gun. It sat in its holster on my belt and made me feel safer. What good it would actually do me if whoever it was appeared, I didn't know, but it sure was better than nothing.
Blue led me off the trail and up a side canyon. We were scrambling through the rocks now, but I felt better as soon as we got off the main trail. Whoever it was would have no reason to be up here.
Up and up we went. My hands and nose were cold, but in general, the exercise was keeping me warm. Shafts of early sunlight lit the granite here and there. Blue picked our way slowly, trying to protect his arm.
Suddenly and without preamble we stepped into a pocket meadow high on the canyon's side. I could see Benson Lake below us in its thimble-like hollow. Blue stopped, took a deep breath, and raised the binoculars to his eyes.
> I looked where he pointed them, on the opposite ridge, where the main canyon topped out. I could see a flat spot and some trees, that was it.
For a moment Blue was quiet, staring, his face as unreadable as ever. He adjusted the binoculars, moved them slightly. A more pronounced stillness seemed to come over his features.
"There he is," he said quietly.
TWENTY-FIVE
Who is it?"
"See for yourself." Blue handed me the binoculars.
I looked where he pointed and saw only a blur. Fiddling with the adjustment blurred things more rather than less. Suddenly pine trees swam into focus. I saw a tent. And then I saw a man.
Dan Jacobi. Engaged in the prosaic task of building a fire.
I lowered the binoculars. "Do you really think he did all this?"
"Who else?" Blue said. "I don't believe it's a coincidence he's camped here."
I picked up the binoculars again and scanned. No sign of Steve or Jim. I could see a couple of horses picketed in the meadow. Dan continued to crouch over the fire.
Once again 1 put the binoculars down. "But why?"
I was trying to put it all together in my mind. The snares along the trail, the shooting, the fire. I could picture blond Steve doing those things. Suddenly it bothered me that I couldn't see Steve.
"Let's get back to the horses," I said.
"All right." Blue seemed as eager as I to see the stock.
We scrambled down the canyon as fast as he could do it, the dogs trotting happily with us. They were glad we'd gone for a walk. Once we were on the main trail, I kept my eyes open while thoughts sailed in and out of my brain like kites.
"Do we have to ride by them to get out?" I asked Blue.
"Yes. Unless you want to head back toward Crazy Horse Creek. But that's more than three days' ride. And Bridgeport's about eight hours away. But we have to go through Kerrick Meadow."
"What's the trail like on the other side?"
"Right as you come out of the meadow there's a tough spot. It's called The Roughs. It's tricky, but it's short. After that it's all easy riding down Buckeye Canyon to town."
"Are there any really dangerous spots in the Roughs?" I asked him.