TUMBLEWEED by S.A. Meade, Nowe MM
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]I had been a drifter all of my life until I came to his ranch. He didn't
know that I was watching his strong and raw movements from the
porch of his ranch house. Everyone in town said he was a mystery but
I knew, in that moment when he was locked in this powerful dance
with the big sorrel, that I had come home.
TUMBLEWEED
by: S.A. Meade
I kicked the tire.
It didn't help any but it made me feel better about being stranded on a
long stretch of road somewhere in the White Mountains of Arizona.
At least there was green grass on the side of the road and trees. If the
tire had blown a couple of hours before, I would've been in the
desert—not a great place to be stuck in July.
I opened the trunk, shoved stuff aside and reached for the spare. It
didn't look all that great, but at least it would get me to the next town,
hopefully before the afternoon storm broke.
Cars whizzed by, Indians from the Reservation, ranchers in dusty
trucks, RVs followed by a slow stream of cursing drivers. Friday
afternoon was prime time for arrivals from the desert, everyone
seeking refuge from the will-sapping heat of the laughably named
Monsoon.
I wrenched the car up onto the jack and hoped the nuts weren't
screwed on too tight. In spite of being up in the mountains, it was still
a warm afternoon. I pushed my hair out of my eyes and set about
undoing the damn nuts. It's all very well fixing a tire to a car with a
power tool but it doesn't help the poor bastard who has to try and fix
things with a bit of metal on a roadside. It was just as well I didn't
have to be anywhere anytime soon. In fact, I didn't have to be
anywhere, full stop.
I managed to get the damn tire off. Sweat made my eyes sting. A
cloud of small, irritating insects crowded around me and I swatted at
them, getting more pissed off by the minute. I tossed the tire into the
bracket and set about putting the new one on, as clouds swallowed
the sun and the wind rose, bringing with it the scent of rain. If I was
lucky, I could be on my way before the storm rolled in. There was a
campsite not far from Show Low. That would do. Where I went after
that was anyone's guess.
"Need a hand with that?"
I'd been so busy I hadn't noticed that a truck had pulled up on the
shoulder behind me. The truck's occupant was a rancher type wearing
the regulation cowboy uniform of Wranglers, neatly starched twill
shirt and battered, broad-brimmed hat. I felt a bit of a slob in my
tired jeans and dirt smudged tee-shirt.
"Nah, I think I've got it, thanks." I tightened the last bolt and stood
up. My back ached from being hunched over for so long. "But thanks
for the offer. I appreciate it."
He leaned against his truck and glanced up at the sky. "It's best not to
be caught out in the storms up here."
"I guessed as much." I tossed the wrench into the trunk and
rearranged my worldly belongings over the tire well. I wasn't
altogether too easy with him being there, watching me. If we'd been
on a less busy road, I would've been very uneasy. Not that anything
about him triggered any 'bad-news' thoughts. His dark eyes were
warm, framed by fine creases that spoke of a life spent outdoors.
"Going camping?"
It was easy enough to guess, with my tent rolled into a neat bundle
behind everything else. "I was thinking of stopping at Show Low Lake
for the night."
The rancher glanced at the lowering clouds. "Gonna be pretty
miserable."
I slammed the trunk shut. "I'm used to it."
He shrugged. "No showers on that site and with it being Fourth of
July…"
"I'll chance it. It's too late to look for somewhere else." I could've
stayed in a motel but it had been a long while since my last job and
my bank account wasn't a pretty sight.
"I've plenty of room at my place."
"That's kind of you but I'm a little hesitant about accepting invites
from people I've just met on the side of the road."
"I'm sorry." He held out his hand. "Will Riley. I own a place just up
the road here. Ask anyone in town, they'll vouch for me."
"Nice to meet you, Will. My name's Bryn." I retrieved my car keys. "I
appreciate the invitation and everything, but I'd better be on my way."
"As you wish." He smiled and pulled out a card from his wallet. "If
you change your mind, give me a call. I'm not normally in the habit of
asking strangers to camp on my land but with it being Fourth of July
weekend, I'm kinda tempted to post a notice at my gate offering
camping space."
"Probably not a bad idea." I glanced at the card and stuck it in my
back pocket. I shook his hand and wondered why he seemed so
interested in my business. "Thanks for the offer. It was nice to meet
you."
Riley took a step back and touched the brim of his hat. His shirt lifted,
tightening, for a moment, over a lean, muscled torso. "Keep hold of
that card. You might need it."
"Thanks." I climbed back into the car and waved, wondering if I'd
made a bad choice. Maybe he was being genuine. . Riley's warm
brown eyes didn't seem to conceal a psycho. In fact, they hinted at a
kind and interesting man. Not a bad-looking guy either, with long legs
and I've always had a weakness for brown eyes. As I drove away, rain
hit the windshield with heavy splats. The campsite by the lake seemed
less of a desirable destination all of a sudden.
I ran through the rain into the store. I steered clear of the
supermarket, which was packed with holiday weekend shoppers, and
settled for a small mom-and-pop store. They'd be more likely to know
of a good place to camp, being that Riley's prediction about the lake
site was woefully true.
"Sorry, son." The elderly proprietor bagged my meager selection of
groceries with slow, arthritic grace and shook his head. "You won't
find much available this weekend. All of Phoenix heads up here for
the Fourth."
Shit.
I pulled the card from my pocket. "Do you know this guy?"
The proprietor eyed the card. "Will Riley? Hell yeah. Why you
asking?"
"He said I could camp on his land."
He peered through the plate glass window and squinted through thick
glasses at the downpour. "His mother used to run a bed and breakfast
out of the ranch. It's more than likely he'd put you up in the house.
It's a big old place. He's an odd one. Lived here all his life. He's sound
enough it's just no one really knows him. Keeps himself to himself.
But he's a good guy. You needn't worry."
"Thanks. I'll give him a call." I took my groceries and returned to my
car. I made the call, relieved I wouldn't be pitching my tent in the
midst of a sea of trailers, RVs and noisy kids.
A belt of pine trees separated the Blue Fork Ranch from the road. The
car bounced along the gravel track past open fields where horses
grazed, unconcerned by the rain. The ranch was at the top of a small
rise, a white clapboard two-storey house with a wrap- around porch, a
barn and a couple of corrals. I parked the car next to the blue pick-up
truck in front of the house. I turned off the engine, glad to hear an end
to the relentless squeak of the wipers. A low rumble of thunder broke
the sudden silence. I climbed out, grabbed my backpack and hurried
onto the front porch.
Riley opened the screen door. "Hi, welcome."
"Thanks."
"Come on in."
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]