Buck was a special horse to Hugh, one that he favored over all the others in the family’s stable. He was a buttermilk buckskin gelding—the color of very light café mocha, but with a beautiful, black mane and tail.
Buck had been Hugh’s horse ever since he had first seen him as a colt on one of his infrequent home-time visits at the ranch. He’d had a hand in gentling him to the saddle, and had spent a lot of time with him every time he’d come home.
One attribute of Buck’s that Hugh particularly liked was that he was a very well-comported horse, sturdy, and large for a quarter horse—standing a little over sixteen hands.
The two rode as one, and Hugh would never consider riding out with any other.
Hugh rode a couple more hours, always keeping to the military crest of the ridge so as not to be sky-lined, and be seen by anybody watching from below. He wanted peace and quiet and, especially, solitude on this trip.
“Whoa, Buck,” he said quietly, reining the horse to a slow stop. He brought his rifle to his shoulder, and snapped off a shot at a rabbit he had spotted just ahead on the trail.
“Well, I just got us dinner,” he said, as he dismounted to pick up his reward for being an expert shot.
He regretted that the rifle he had used was overkill for this size of target. He would have preferred using a .22 for game like this rabbit, but he could only carry one rifle, and he knew he could come upon some fairly formidable predators in these woods at any time—grizzly bears and mountain lions being the most likely.
So, what he usually carried with him on these outings was his trusty Ruger Mini-30, a semi-auto carbine in the very popular, cheap, and highly-available 7.62x39 caliber.
His Mini-30 was a sweet little carbine, and he liked it a lot. But, even it was barely adequate for what he might encounter in the forest here. It was a decent compromise, however, between what was good for hunting meat, and what was adequate for self-protection.
A little while later, he stopped at a strategic spot for taking advantage of the lowering afternoon sun to give himself another look at the ranch. He pulled out his binoculars and trained them on the home place. What he saw were three figures, all blondes, on the pool deck. The distance was too great to determine who was whom. But, Hugh assumed, rightly, that Jenny was among them.
“Well, Buck, at least she’s enjoying herself,” he told the buckskin.
He rode on a little farther, then pulled in when he spotted a good camping spot for the night. This particular spot offered a view of the home ranch, still almost two miles away. It wasn’t that Hugh expected to see any detail in the fading light, even with binoculars, but it was comforting for him to know that Jenny was still nearby.
After dismounting, he unsaddled Buck and led him to a little clearing that had some grass for the horse to graze on. He didn’t tie him or hobble him, thinking that if something came up in the night, like a bear or mountain lion, or moose, he didn’t want Buck injuring himself trying to get away. Hugh knew the horse wouldn’t stray too far from where Hugh would be bedding down for the night.
Hugh used his knife to skin the rabbit, and to prepare it for roasting on the little fire that he had just built. He was reminded of the serious action that his knife had seen just recently.
As he busied himself with the rabbit, Hugh couldn’t help but think about the extreme difference between his truck driver life, and what he was experiencing in this quiet, almost primeval, forest. He wasn’t able to relax just yet. He knew it would take some time for him to completely unwind from the events of the past week. But, he also knew that the forest would begin to work its magic on him, and he’d come out of it a whole new person again.
The main difference this time, Hugh reminded himself, was the major complication that Jenny had brought into his life. No forest was going to help him with that problem.
What to do about Jenny.
Once the skinned and cleaned rabbit had been speared through with a green stick, and suspended to cook slowly over the nearly smokeless fire, Hugh spread out his ground cloth, situated his saddle as a back rest, and then sat down, leaning back on the saddle.
He gave himself over to the forest. He could hear Buck munching on the flavorful grass. And he could hear the soft sighing of the breeze working its way through the forest trees, along with the gentle trickling of a nearby small stream.
The sights and sounds of this forest solitude were so different from the noisy, busy cacophony of sight and sound that he usually encountered while on the road, and at truck stops and shippers’ locations.
Hugh interrupted his contemplative reverie every few minutes to turn the rabbit on its spit so that it would get cooked evenly. The smell was becoming tantalizing.
Hugh lost track of time.
Then slowly, Hugh noticed, the observable perimeter of his campsite begin to shrink as night began to claim the forest. Before much longer, his whole world consisted only of the sound of Buck still grazing in the little clearing, the trickle of the little stream, the crackle of his little fire, and the sizzle and dripping of the nearly-done rabbit.
This was always a magical time for Hugh on these outings. It was when he could feel the healing begin, when he knew that tomorrow would be a new, different, and better day.
A check of the rabbit told Hugh that it was finally fully roasted, so he began to eat it, foregoing a plate and fork in favor of just picking at it with his bare fingers.
Delicious, absolutely delicious, was Hugh’s only thought as he ate the rabbit down to bare bone. Hugh was well aware that one couldn’t live off rabbit—there simply wasn’t enough fat in the lean meat to sustain a person for long. But, it was definitely a tasty treat for someone coming off of the road, and all that went with being out there doing that job.
Finished with his grazing, Buck wandered over to join Hugh by the fire. Hugh had finished with the rabbit, so he led Buck over to the stream, where they could both take a good long drink.
“Well, boy. I don’t know about you. But, I think I’m just going to turn in for the night,” Hugh said to Buck.
He spread out his sleeping bag, took off his boots, and climbed in. That’s when he remembered that he had thought to pack his Bible. He rummaged around in his saddle bags until he found it.
“You know what, Lord? I’ve been neglecting reading your Word. And, I’m thinking that you probably have something to tell me about me and Jenny,” Hugh said out loud.
He saw Buck prick his ears at this new turn of conversation.
With Bible in hand, Hugh stared up through the forest canopy, seeking the God-feeling that he always experienced whenever he was in the forest alone on a clear night.
There you are, Lord. Thank you.
Hugh then stirred the fire, and threw on a couple more sticks to build it up to get more light. He leaned in closer to the fire, deeply content with being in the forest at night. With the only sound being Buck’s gentle breathing, and the crackle of the fire, Hugh began to visit with God.
Not knowing just yet where God would lead him in his Bible, Hugh turned to one of his favorite, most-comforting, passages. As it turned out, it was the exact right one.
"And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose."
“That’s Romans eight twenty-eight,” he told his horse. “And, you know what, Buck? God really does mean what he says, and says what he means.”
Buck pricked his ears again toward Hugh, and blew gently through his nose in agreement.
“Yeah, that’s right, Buck. There’s no catch to it. ‘All things’ doesn’t mean some things, or only a few things, or only when God feels like it. It means all things.”
Buck nickered gently, stepped closer to Hugh, and then lowered his head to nuzzle Hugh’s Bible.
“And, see here, Buck. ‘For good’ means … for good. Nothing more, nothing less. Get it?”
Buck blew again, and nodded his head up and down.
“All
we have to do is find the good in all that has happened over the past week—Jenny, her uncle, the hijackings, the injuries, the deaths.”
At that last, Hugh had to swallow the lump that was rising in his throat. In these woods, in this quiet and solitude, in this special time with God, in this forest universe that was as far away from his truck driving universe as it was possible to get, all that Hugh had had to do during the past week to protect Jenny and himself came rushing at him in a river of grief and regret.
“Oh, Lord, please tell me the good in all that has happened,” Hugh prayed. “You know that I am yours. I haven’t always walked with you like I know I should have. But you know I gave myself to you that time so long ago.”
Hugh meditated on that for awhile—long enough that the fire had died down. So, he poked it again, and added a few more sticks.
Then, as often happened when one sincerely turned to God for answers, he thought he understood what God was wanting him to know.
“I think I get it, Buck,” Hugh said suddenly, waking the dozing horse. “I think that all of this, the uncle, the hijackings, everything, had been set in place so that I could meet Jenny. God wants Jenny and me to be together.”
Hugh sat bolt upright at that revelation, startling Buck, who threw up his head, and laid his ears back.
“It’s OK, Buck,” Hugh cooed soothingly to the horse. “In fact, it is really, really OK.”
It all made sense now, Hugh thought. He had never been one to believe in coincidence. So he had to believe that meeting James, riding with him, helping him fight off those five attackers—one of whom had a seven-year-old daughter—and then meeting that daughter fifteen years later under the most extraordinary, unbelievable circumstances, had to have been meant to be for something good.
Then, the enormity of what God wanted him to do began to hit him.
“Buck, I just don’t know,” he said, hoping Buck was still listening. Buck twitched his ears.
“Jenny can be an outright b …,” he stopped. “Oops. Sorry, Lord.”
He went on. “She sure can be moody. But, she’s also innocent, if you know what I mean, Buck. What do you suppose God is thinking, tying me in with her?”
Hugh didn’t understand all the details, both about how things had come to pass so far, and how things were going to be in the future. He didn’t even know for sure whether Jenny still hated him—if she could forgive him for what he had done to her dad. But he was satisfied that God knew what he was doing, and had given him the direction to go in.
With that, he snuffed out the fire, said good night to Buck, zipped up his sleeping bag, and began to drift off to sleep. His last conscious thought was to wonder what Jenny was doing right now. Then he slept more peacefully and comfortably than he had in a long, long time.
Chapter Twenty-One
Jenny
With supper prepared and eaten, and dishes done, Jenny, Martha and Mary were sitting on hand-made wooden rockers on the expansive front porch. Conversation was comfortable, and the three were just enjoying the beautiful night. By now, Jenny had come to believe that she was entirely welcome in their home.
“I wonder where Hugh is, and what he is doing right now,” she pondered out loud.
Martha stared off into the distant hills. “Well, honey, I believe that Hugh just made a decision.”
“What do you mean?” Jenny asked.
“You probably hadn’t noticed that tiny little speck of light yonder,” Martha answered, “but, it just went out, which means that Hugh had probably wanted to put a final point to a decision.”
“Yes,” Mary agreed. “When we’ve camped together, Hugh usually let the fire die out by itself. Sometimes, though, he’d get excited about something, and want to get rid of nervous energy by doing something. I’ve seen him put out the fire like that before.”
“I still don’t get it,” Jenny said.
Martha answered her, “OK. Hugh shot a rabbit for dinner. Did you hear a gunshot about mid-afternoon?”
Jenny nodded, wondering what that had to do with anything.
“So, he built the fire to cook the rabbit. After the rabbit was done cooking, he would normally have let the fire slowly die out. It’s not that cold, and he’d be turning in.”
Jenny nodded her understanding.
“Then, I saw the fire get built back up again. I figured that Hugh had decided to read some, probably from his Bible. Being in the forest alone at night makes one feel close to God, and Hugh has been looking for answers. And then, after awhile, he suddenly snuffed out the fire. Decision made,” Martha ended.
Mary nodded her agreement.
Jenny was amazed at how well mother and sister knew Hugh. She guessed that must be what it was like when family members loved each other so much.
“What do you suppose that decision was?” Jenny asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.
Martha and Mary looked at each other. Then, Martha spoke. “Honey, that’s just something you’ll have to find out for yourself when the time is right.”
Nobody spoke for a long time. Then, to lighten the mood, Martha asked Jenny, “Did you have a good time today?”
“Oh, yes, Martha,” Jenny answered right away. “I had a great time. I love it here.”
Earlier that day, after Jenny had recovered sufficiently from her need to sit on the bench after hearing what Martha had told her about Hugh, they had walked into the house to prepare lunch for when the men would return from their work.
Jenny, at least, was feeling useful, and she appreciated Martha including her in on lunch preparations. They didn’t get a chance to talk about what had been happening the past week, but Martha promised Jenny that after lunch they’d find a chore that they could do together that would give them a chance to talk.
When Hugh, Sr., and Roly drove up to the house in their old pickup truck, preparations kicked into high gear as Martha and Jenny served up cold fried chicken, potato salad, fresh greens and tomatoes from the garden, and lemonade from freshly squeezed lemons.
Martha called Mary down from her room where she had been studying all morning, and they all sat down to lunch. Hugh, Sr., said the blessing, of course.
Conversation revolved around ranch topics, with an occasional question coming Jenny’s way about her day so far. What did she think of the ranch? Did she enjoy driving the pink monstrosity? Things like that.
It was all very comfortable, friendly and homey.
After lunch, Jenny helped Martha clean up, while Mary ran out to quickly do her middle-of-the-day chores before escaping back up to her room to study.
“How are you at weeding garden?” Martha asked Jenny when the last clean dish had been put away.
“I’ve gardened before,” Jenny answered. “Is that what we’re going to do this afternoon?”
“Sure. And while we are doing that we can chat,” Martha replied.
Martha and Jenny found places to work in the garden near each other.
“OK, Jenny, what is it you’d like to tell me about what had happened between you and Hugh?”
Jenny had already made up her mind to tell this kind lady everything, so she began her story from the very beginning, sparing nothing. She was even able to fill in the spots that she hadn’t known about until very recently when she had overheard Hugh’s conversation with James at the Bakersfield truck stop.
Martha listened patiently, giving Jenny a chance to tell her story without interruptions. Her intuition told her that Jenny needed to get a lot off her chest.
Only when Jenny stopped talking after telling how she had run away from Hugh at that truck stop did Martha say something.
“And … ?” Martha asked, indicating for Jenny to go on.
“Martha, I don’t know if I can go on,” Jenny replied, tears starting to well in her eyes. “I really, really hurt Hugh … almost got him killed.”
She saw Martha stiffen at that. Jenny had told her enough about her uncle’s hatred for all truck drivers, and especially now for Hugh
, that she knew that Martha suspected something really awful was coming next.
“Jenny,” Martha said kindly. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But, I think you do want to, and need to. So, take a minute to get yourself together, and then go on.”
Jenny nodded.
They pulled weeds together silently for a while, and then Jenny continued where she had left off.
“After I ran out of the truck stop I didn’t know what to do. I was so torn up inside. Shocked. Stunned. Devastated. Angry. Whoo, boy, was I angry. I felt so betrayed.”
Jenny had to stop talking for awhile in order to regain her composure again.
“Outside, I called my uncle and told him what I had just found out. He said to walk to the main street, and he would come by right away to pick me up.
“When he found me, he had already worked out the beginning of a plan. He asked me for my phone. When I gave it to him, he brought up an app, and then asked me where Hugh’s truck was.
“We drove around to the part of the lot where it was parked. My uncle got out, and placed my phone inside a little swing-down door thing just above the top step on the driver’s side.
“After that, my uncle drove me home,” Jenny concluded.
“After everything that had happened, like him putting a gun to your head, how was your uncle treating you?” Martha asked.
“That’s the weird thing,” Jenny answered. “He was acting all nice and friendly. I was careful about what I would say, ’cause I didn’t want to set him off. I had no idea what I was going to do, but for the time being I had nowhere else to go.”
“Then, what happened?” Martha asked.
“The next day, my uncle and his two buddies got all excited, and said, ‘Come on, we’re going.’ So, we drove up north to a town called Tracy. We spent the night in a motel, and early the next morning, all of a sudden, we’re following Hugh’s truck, which was being followed by a blue car, an escort car because it was a high-value load, my uncle said.”
Crimson Highway Page 18
