The Ides of Matt 2016

by M. L. Buchman

  This time the sigh was different and she leaned over the railing to see why.

  5

  Pintler Lookout,” Danny said it aloud to hear his own voice in the vast silence. The only other noises were the rustling of a soft breeze through the low grass and a bald eagle crying somewhere far above.

  The silence, which had creeped the shit out of him even more than the scorpions and rattlesnakes those first few weeks, was now an easy place to be. Even the memory of East LA noise, the car horns, the sirens, the hard laughter…all of it made him wince.

  Had that been Kee’s plan? Ruin his past by giving him a new view? If so, it had sure as hell worked. He’d given up wondering about that phone number on the last page of the trail guide. Whatever the future held for him, didn’t matter. For now he was down with the moment. Getting through each day. Seeing what it would bring. Wasn’t a soul in his old neighborhood that had seen shit like this view or breathed air this clean.

  He dumped his pack but stayed standing, shaking out the familiar buzz in his legs. That was another thing they’d never believe back home. Walking over two thousand miles, he was strong enough now to squish any ten of his pals. He’d had to buy new jeans and shirts twice on the trip because they’d gotten too tight.

  “Hi,” a voice floated to him through the still air.

  For a second he thought he’d imagined it.

  “Where you in from?”

  He looked around, but he was the only one here. “Uh, New Mexico.”

  “My first nobo,” the voice was very soft, unaccented, female. Had he suddenly lost his mind? It was like the mountaintop was asking him questions. “Straight through?”

  “Uh-huh. Twenty-three hundred miles or some such, so far.”

  “Ahead of the whole pack.”

  Danny hadn’t known that, but liked it just fine. He’d dusted any number of folks on the trail, once he got his feet under him. Not a single north-bound through-hiker ahead of him. That explained why the trail had been so lonely. He’d camp with sobos for a night or north-bound section hikers for a couple days to a week, but mostly it had been him and the trail.

  “By yourself?” This time he caught the direction of the voice and looked up. A face was peering down at him over the railing on the lookout tower. A bright smile and a mop of bright red hair turned dark copper by the golden light of the sky behind her.

  “Solo,” he confirmed. “You?” Then knew that wasn’t the best question to ask a single woman in the wilderness.

  “I’m manning the lookout this summer,” a slight evasion, but not much.

  “Nope,” he sat down on his pack so that he’d look less threatening and turned back to the sunset.

  “What do you mean, ‘nope’?” The woman on high sounded confused.

  “I figure you’re womanning the lookout this summer.”

  That earned him a sparkling laugh that did funny things inside him. There was nothing fake about it. It wasn’t the laugh of someone wanting something or cozying up to him trying to be casual, pretending that there wasn’t about to be some kind of deal going down. It wasn’t a laugh by some buddy because you’d cracked a dirty joke, no matter how lame, and the laugh was expected. Hers just spilled out into the sky.

  Her light tread sounded across the platform over his head and down the stairs.

  “Thanks,” she said as she came to stand beside him. “I’ve been trying to figure out what I was doing here all summer. Now I know.”

  Danny scoffed, “Damn if that ain’t a feeling I know. Don’t suppose you can tell me what I’m doing on this hike? I’m doin’ it, just still not sure why.” Her silhouette was enough to tell him lean and fine. In jeans and a t-shirt she looked classy. Maybe the way she carried herself so straight.

  “Nope,” she admitted cheerfully. “Unless your ‘manning’ it.”

  Something about that was too accurate to keep inside and a laugh just burst out of him, echoing off the night.

  Her bright laugh joined his deep one for a moment.

  “You’ve got no idea, sister. Christ you have no idea.” That’s exactly what Kee had done to him—forced him to man up rather than slumming through life. It was like the core of the whole thing: this hike, his life. It was about time he took ownership of it.

  “Danny Chay,” he held out a hand. “From…shit, I don’t even know anymore. From the Continental Divide Trail I guess.” He sure couldn’t see himself back in East LA.

  6

  Leanna Forrester, but everyone calls me Lexi.” She took his hand and shook it. Normally she would have hesitated, especially with a guy who was so much bigger than she was. His hand completely enveloped hers. Normally she’d have had her can of bear-repelling mace in her other hand. But something about that contented sigh and his deep easy laugh had made her feel safe. No, it had made her feel welcome. Welcome on her own mountaintop, welcome in her own life.

  “From,” and then the joke slammed into her. She did her best to lower her voice and imitate his tone, “From…shit, I don’t even know anymore. Top of the Sapphire Mountains I guess.” Then the laugh burst out of her, bordering way to close to a choke.

  “Better sit down before you fall down, woman.” He moved over to a handy rock and waved for her to sit on his softer pack which was awfully decent of him. Her knees did give out a bit, dropping her down onto the pack.

  “I think I just sat on your cooking pot,” she shifted to a more comfortable position.

  “Couldn’t hurt the damned thing anyway.”

  His tone, his use of language—she’d only heard it in the movies, street punk grown man tall. A storm of nerves slammed into her and she clamped her arms together against the sudden chill. Should she get up? Would he let her?

  But Danny did nothing but look back out at the evening. One she was sure that’s all he was going to do, she did the same. Pintler was a promontory that fell away steeply to the east and west and was nearly a cliff to the south. The trail wound in from the northwest and departed to the northeast. The sunset turned the hundred peaks and the hundred thousand trees into a tapestry of gold-tinted pinnacles rising from the green-black hills and valleys far below. The last of the swallows still skittered across the sky, the bats weren’t out yet.

  “First star,” he pointed west.

  It took her a moment to spot it. “That’s Venus.”

  “First planet,” he said in exactly the same way, pointing again as if he’d just noticed it.

  And once more she felt more desire to smile than to be afraid.

  He was looking around the sky, apparently searching for the next one to reveal itself. It would be Jupiter to the southeast, but not for another ten or fifteen minutes.

  “Are you a good man, Danny?” Now there was a dumb question. Like a bad one would tell the truth.

  He glanced at her, then rubbed a hand across his chin. Clean-shaven, unlike most who hiked the trail. His hair was long, down to his collar, but had looked clean while she could still see it. It had looked nice on him, a little wild, a little dangerous, though not in a bad way.

  Not her type at all. In fact…

  “A good man,” he said it flat. “The way I’m guessing you mean it, sister, not very.”

  Her nerves slammed back in full force.

  “But maybe,” he turned back to searching the sky. “Just maybe, I’m slowly haulin’ my ass there.”

  7

  Normally Danny slept the sleep of the trail hiker—lie down and crash hard. At least once he’d gotten over the vast silence of the night, and the startling tiny noises of different creatures.

  Lying beside the lookout tower, staring up at the underside of the decking, knowing that Lexi was sleeping right there, sleep had eluded him.

  They’d talked a long time. More than he’d talked to anyone out on the trail, and about deeper shit than he’d talked about with anyo
ne, maybe ever.

  Not the past. That was so far away he barely remembered it anymore.

  She hadn’t either.

  It was like they were both born at the start of this summer. He’d told her about Kee, but it was like his life had started the moment he climbed into that Suburban. Just “friend from my past came and hauled my ass to New Mexico.” Nothing more.

  They hadn’t talked about the future either. Just the summer: his long hike, her long vigil.

  When she’d finally stood, shivering with the chill night air, and wished him goodnight, she’d done one thing more.

  She’d rested on of those fine hands upon his shoulder and kissed him atop the head.

  “That thing about you becoming a good man, Danny? Sounds like you’re already there.” Then she’d been gone. At least from beside him, if not from his thoughts.

  The next morning he woke to the sound of her tread descending the tower’s wooden stairs. The unnaturalness of the sound dragged him up from his brief sleep.

  She waved at him, then turned and ran off into the woods.

  It was all he could do to wave back. He’d barely seen her the night before. Now in the bright light, he’d gotten an eyeful. She was tall, maybe most as tall as he was. Her brilliant red hair cascaded and curled down to her shoulders. Lexi was as fine as a willow branch…he knew what those looked like now. Her shorts revealed long runner’s legs and her t-shirt revealed not one extra ounce anywhere.

  He couldn’t believe that she was alone in the woods. Why he’d smack her upside the head for being so damn stupid that…

  Then he got to thinking about it, looking out at the vast wilderness. A woman, even one who looked that good, was probably far safer here than back in LA. She wouldn’t last a minute on his streets. There was too much fresh air and innocence about her.

  Innocence wasn’t right either. She’d clearly seen some shit. Not his kind of shit, but enough to make her pretty disappointed in the world.

  But there was lightness about her. He could still hear her bright laugh. It had made him tell his hardest, blackest moments of the hike in such a way as to get her to let loose that laugh some more. And she’d done the same. He could feel her doing it, as they’d sat on pack and rock near enough to whisper, digging deep into the internal shitheap and reforging it in the night.

  He’d planned to just overnight here. Thought about it some more. It might be best if he did go, maybe best for both of them. He’d just go up and check out the view from the tower, pack up, and get out. He unpacked the stove that had given him so much trouble at first, and started oatmeal in his bent cooking pot. Yanking and tugging on it didn’t quite fix the damage done by Lexi’s fine ass, but it was good enough for oatmeal.

  More time with the leggy Lexi Forrester might give his needs a hard time, though he knew to keep his hands to himself until she offered. But he wasn’t sure he wanted to break the shitbubble of his past and spill it out for her to see.

  Four months ago, he’d been proud of that past. He had massive street cred. Not only was he a survivor, but he understood the power that came from protecting people, even from themselves. He was the one who talked them out of the stupidest plans, or at least tried to. He was the one who made a point of visiting his buddies in the slammer when they hadn’t listened.

  Talking to Lexi last night, going deep inside, he’d begun to understand how small his world had been. He’d become better than all that. It was the unknown future that was now scaring the crap out of him.

  “You’re thinking awfully hard there, Danny,” Lexi gasped out from close beside him.

  He looked up at her. Shaking out her arms and legs. Her chest heaving behind her thin t-shirt. Damn! He was as much of a breast man as the next guy, but who ever knew that compact could look so good. Forcing himself not to stare, he looked up at her workout-charged smile shining on her ever-so-white face. Freckles enough to be damned cute without enough to make her look childish. She was pure woman, and that was before he got to her dazzling blue eyes—darker, richer than should be possible.

  “Thinking about the future shit I don’t know,” he managed. And thinking about the woman he’d like to.

  “Don’t go there.”

  He wondered which thought she was talking about.

  “Every time I think about what happens at the end of fire season, it scares the pee out of me.”

  He was down with that.

  “Bring your breakfast up when it’s ready. I just need a minute for a washcloth shower and a change of clothes.”

  Now there was an image he was totally down with.

  8

  Lexi had her own oatmeal with raisins started before she felt the vibration of Danny’s heavy tread climbing the tower. She waved him into the cab—the fourteen-foot-square room that was her home. It had a counter along two walls that was her work area, kitchen, and small library. Two chairs took another wall, and a cot and the door took the fourth. The center was dominated by the large circle of the Osborne fire finder—the lookout’s main tool for mapping a fire’s location once it had been spotted.

  While she’d been waiting for him, she’d done another inspection of the surrounding hills, even though it wasn’t time yet. The West Goat fire was smaller than it had been last night, the ground teams must have worked right around the clock. Nothing else new. It was either inspect the forest or go through some pointless straightening and cleaning routine for her visitor.

  She turned to face him and took a step back into the Osborne. Lexi hadn’t seen him standing up before. She was almost six foot, he had to duck to make sure he didn’t bang his head on the door. So at least six three. And wide enough of shoulder that she was surprised he didn’t have to turn sideways to step through. The cab suddenly felt tiny and claustrophobic despite the big windows that wrapped all the way around.

  His heritage looked mixed, giving him darker skin than hers, which was true for everyone on the planet. But it was light enough that she could see the deep tan from his living outdoors for the last several months. Black hair, dark eyes, but he didn’t feel dangerous.

  “If I’m making you nervous…” he gestured toward the door with his bowl.

  “No,” she couldn’t be nervous around him after last night’s discussions. No one had ever spoken to her that way, laying out such deep truth. And, for the first time, it had made her do the same…something she definitely wasn’t used to in herself. Even her internal dialog never did that. She’d simply been sick to death of lawyering and decided it was time for a change.

  Danny really thought about things…about shit. She almost giggled at her own Dannyism.

  “No, not nervous. At least not in a bad way,” and she knew exactly what sleepless thoughts that had come from. “Just a little surprised at how big…” and there was no way to finish that sentence that would be in any manner seemly.

  He waited a beat then filled the small cab with his deep, reverberating laugh. He made an Incredible Hulk-like motion, holding out his arms and pushing out his chest.

  “You’re going to spill your breakfast.”

  That deflated him as he re-angled his bowl in time to save his oatmeal.

  She’d never met a man who laughed at himself so easily. Or who let her do the same.

  9

  Danny was torn between which view to admire: the landscape or the woman. All morning, with an interruption every thirty minutes for her fire scan, they’d chatted. Not the heavy talk of last night, but easy chatter of the day.

  She talked about running.

  He about weight-lifting.

  High school came up, but they kept it about the people when it became obvious that the two schools were different beyond imagining.

  She knew her parents; loved them despite their flaws.

  He vaguely remembered his mom before she OD’d, and kept that to himself.

 
; A spaghetti dinner, he donated the pasta and she the sauce, had been about movies. He’d read some books, but nothing like she did. She pulled a battered copy of The Bourne Identity off her little shelf and handed it to him.

  “Already saw it,” he tried to hand it back. He hadn’t even known it was a book.

  “Trust me,” she pushed it back.

  And he did.

  Sunset after her last sign-off had been spent out on the narrow porch. No room for chairs, just enough to clean the windows…or sit with their backs against the cab and their feet dangling off the edge, out beneath the lowest rail.

  They didn’t go deep like they had last night, instead they went quiet.

  After four months, most of it alone, Danny thought he knew all the forms of quiet. But sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with Lexi Forrester, their tea mugs long since set aside empty, was something new. There was a depth, a texture, a…

  For the first time in his life, he wished he had better words to describe things. Though he’d wager that all of the words in the world wouldn’t let him describe Lexi even half what she deserved.

  When she rose silently to her feet, he figured it was time to go. But when they reached the small landing between the stairs and the cab’s door, she took his hand and tugged him through the door.

  He didn’t ask, for fear that she’d change her mind if he did.

  She didn’t say a word. Not then. Not when he took her in the silent darkness, just glad that she had protection because his was some impossible distance away in the pack at the base of the tower. And not when finally spent, she lay down upon his chest and held him.

  Sex with Colorado Crissy had always been fast and hard. Almost like an echo of the street in East LA.

  Lexi was like the mountains: fresh, full of surprises, and taking the long slow climb up with all the ease of a sunny day’s hike. No one had ever given to him that way, shown him what was possible.

  He’d expected the morning to be shy and awkward, so he’d held her close through the night, figuring he’d have to leave soon after daybreak.