Get Out of Denver (Denver Burning Book 1)
Page 10
“Okay,” McLean said. “We’ll head out in the morning, then. Thanks for letting us crash your place.”
“My pleasure. I will send a few good horses with you tomorrow, if you want ‘em.”
“We want them. Are you sure you can spare them?”
“Sure. I need to thin the herd a little anyway, to reduce the amount of feed and grazing required until I can be sure I have resources for them all. And anyway, I’d rather send them with you than have them stolen. Horses and bicycles are going to be the name of the game now. I foresee my stock will be in high demand once people catch on to that fact.”
“Well, what can we pay you for them?”
“Just fix that well for me so I don’t have to keep hauling buckets of water from the creek and filtering it by hand.”
They spent the rest of the afternoon helping out around the ranch, getting the well taken care of, and getting a crash course in equine care and riding, for those that weren’t as comfortable on a horse. McLean also helped install some extra fencing in front of the house, blocking entry into the stable yard, and they sent JD down the road to remove the ranch’s sign from the gate.
That evening they sat around the living room until midnight talking. Every hour a couple of the men went down to the gate with guns and flashlights, just to check things and make sure no one was coming around. Aside from a neighbor that had dropped by earlier to borrow a tool, they saw no one.
They all went to bed in high spirits. Carrie and McLean were especially grateful for the luxury of mattresses. Carrie got a decent spare bedroom. The rest were in ranch-hand bunks that a week earlier would have been barely acceptable but now were lovingly enjoyed. They knew that they had many hard miles ahead of them, and this would be the last time they knew such comfort until they reached McLean’s ranch on the other side of the mountains.
Chapter 9 : On Horseback
After breakfast the next morning Morgan supplied them with a couple good maps of the mountains, marked with horse-worthy trails to the west. They loaded up the horses with gear, blankets, and some alfalfa hay and grain supplement in case grazing conditions were poor along the route. The men broke open a lockbox they had stored in Morgan’s basement and passed out rifles, ammunition, and hand-held radios that were still in working order thanks to the shielding of the metal-lined box.
“How long has this been here?” Carrie asked as JD took his rifle out and began loading it. The other men had already gone outside to the horses.
“Oh, a year or two,” JD said. “I met Morgan about five years back doing some work for him. We’ve kept up, and a while back when the signs of the times finally scared us all into getting really serious about our preps, we asked Morgan if we could store some stuff here and use his place as a meeting point. He was on board, and here we are.”
“I see. Do I get a rifle?”
“Sorry, we weren’t counting on anyone but ourselves,” JD replied. “We’re certainly happy to have you along, but we only cached four rifles. I bet McLean’s got an extra at his ranch, though.”
“That’s all right. He already gave me this.” Carrie showed JD the Beretta in her backpack.
“Great. You know how to use it?”
“Not well. I was hoping one of you could give me some lessons.”
“I’d love nothing more,” JD said, eyeing Carrie up and down. He closed the lever action on his rifle and got to his feet, stretching his lean body and flexing his muscles just a little. “Consider me your private tutor, Miss Alton. But we should wait until we’re out on the trail so we don’t draw attention to this place with the sound of gunfire.”
“Sure. Do you think I should strap it on now, though?”
“It won’t do you much good in that backpack if we run into trouble. You should put it on the outside of your upper thigh, since we’ll be riding. Want me to help you?”
“I’ve got it, thanks,” Carrie said, waving her solicitous new friend away and strapping the gun onto her leg.
They went outside together and mounted their horses next to McLean and DJ, double-checking their gear and food supplies.
“I’ll see you all when you come back this way,” Morgan said. “Whenever that may be.”
“Goodbye, and thanks again for the horses,” McLean told him.
“Thanks for the help,” the old man replied.
Carrie leaned down from her saddle to kiss him on the cheek. “Take care of yourself, Morgan,” she said. “We’ll definitely check on you next time we’re in the area.”
They each gave their horses a slight kick and ambled out of the ranch yard. Morgan waved at them until they were out of sight down the hill. Carrie wondered if they would really ever be back, and whether Morgan would still be there if they did. She certainly intended to return at some point, but the world was a lot more uncertain now. As they descended to the road, she thought wistfully of the life she’d left behind, with its luxuries both physical and emotional. But the memory of David’s body bleeding out on the floor of his home re-instilled in her a desire to get as far from Denver as possible.
They rode slowly through the gate and down the dirt road until they came to another paved one that would take them toward some of the westerly mountain trails. With four armed riders they were less concerned about stealth and didn’t mind following open routes as needed. It would be easier on the horses and riders, all of whom had ridden before but none of whom were “horse people”, and it would be faster than immediately heading off into the bush.
After the first hour of travel they became used to their mounts and the rhythm of riding. They went in single file unless they needed to discuss something, and they each tried to stay on the lookout at all times. Occasionally some difficulty with the horses would occupy the attention of one or two of them, and at those times the others were especially vigilant, slowing down and watching ahead and behind to ensure that they wouldn’t be caught unaware by anyone they encountered. McLean and DJ took the lead, with Carrie behind, and JD bringing up the rear.
After some time on a dirt road that wound westward through the hills, they got onto a hiking trail that paralleled the road and then cut away into the rougher terrain to the south. The morning was fresh and serene, and all of them took the opportunity to appreciate the beauty of their surroundings. Pines gave way to stretches of scrub oak and sage brush, with open field in the lower parts between the hills. Farther ahead some rocky cliff faces broke up the greenery.
After a couple hours of riding they dismounted and led their horses through a narrow, steep part of the trail. With all the gear added to the weight of the riders, they didn’t want to push the horses any harder than they needed to this first day. The route would only get more challenging the deeper they went into the mountains.
They saw cabins near their trail, and passed within view of valleys that sheltered whole clusters of mountain homes and ranch buildings. But no one approached them, and they only saw people from far off. They stopped for a brief lunch break where a stream crossed their trail.
As afternoon became evening, they began to think about camping. It was a bigger decision now that they had animals to take care of. They looked for an area with grass, sturdy trees nearby to secure the horses to and to provide firewood. They found one just up the trail from another stream. This time it was just a trickle that disappeared into mud in some places, but it was enough to give the horses a drink and refill some filtered bottles.
They set up a couple of small tents in the shelter of some pines. The trees would hide them from wind and prying eyes, enough to make them comfortable lighting a small fire. They kept it inside of a single square-foot ring, and fed it only very dry sticks to minimize smoke. As the sun set, the group finished their preparations for the night and gathered around the fire to eat their dinner. DJ had been cooking up some backpacking meals while the others tended to the horses, scouted the area, and collected firewood. Now they dug in with a hearty appetite built up over a day of wilderness travel.
McLean grinned. “I hope you like goat.”
JD eyed him over the low flames of the fire. “Better than nothing. That all you’ve got?”
“And one cow,” McLean added, “but you can’t eat her, not yet anyway. She’s currently providing milk at the ranch next door. We’ll need to find a bull for her.”
“Don’t you have chickens, too?” DJ asked. “I remember you talking about your chicken operation.”
“Yep. Mostly layers, but we’ll get the fryer population up soon.”
“You think it’s all still there?” JD asked. “How long have you been away?”
“Well, three days now. It should be safe enough, though. My neighbor drops by every couple of days to help out when I can’t be there.”
“He’s a funny old guy,” DJ said. “I met him once. Has a lazy eye, cowboy boots, and a bawdy sense of humor.”
McLean corrected him. “She does wear boots, but you’ve never met her, DJ. That was her little brother that helped us put up fence.”
“Oh. Is she married?” DJ asked sheepishly.
“Widowed.”
JD chipped in. “Next question: is she good looking?”
Everybody gave him the stinkeye, and Carrie burst out laughing.
“What?” he spluttered. “I’m a single man. Is it wrong to express interest in rich, beautiful rancher ladies?”
“No, I guess not,” McLean chuckled. “So long as you don’t mind gray hair. Just make sure you treat her with respect when we get there. Her experience is going to be very important to our fledgling ranch, and I want to stay on her good side.”
“Sure,” JD replied. “Some flowers, a couple of serenades on my harmonica. She’ll be feeding out of my hand in no time.”
“No! No harmonica,” DJ said. “That thing sounds like a dying cat in your hands. You’ll scare everyone away. Play it for our enemies, instead.”
“And I already tried the flowers thing,” McLean added. “As a thank-you for some tools she loaned me. Turns out she hates flowers and prefers more tangible gifts, like steaks and guns.”
“My kind of woman,” JD confirmed. “Dibs!”
They finished their dinners, eating out of the pouches, and then burned them. One of the horses was restless, and JD went to check on it. The others bedded down in the tents, letting their dinner settle while the fire died and the stars came out. Carrie and JD had open-ended tarps strung between tree branches, and McLean and DJ were sharing a two-man backpacking tent. They were arranged close together with the openings facing each other without blocking anybody’s view of their surroundings.
“Do we have enemies?” Carrie asked after a few minutes of silence, referring to DJ’s earlier comment about weaponizing JD’s harmonica.
“No, not officially,” McLean said. “And we’ll try to keep it that way. But if the violence from the city spills over, we’ll hold our ground. That’s all.”
DJ zipped himself into his sleeping bag. “What I worry about is all the refugees. How many people are there in the greater Denver area?”
“It’s over two million,” McLean said. “Closer to three million with Boulder and the surrounding towns. Add in Fort Collins and Colorado Springs, it’s probably four.”
“There you go,” DJ replied. “That’s a lot of people. Some of them are going to be pushed around, out of the city into the suburbs, from the suburbs to other towns, out into the hills. People will start to drift our way eventually. What are we going to do when they start ringing the bell, asking for help?”
“We’ll help them,” Carrie said. “It would be inhuman not to.”
DJ nodded. “Yeah, I kind of feel the same way. But how many can we help, and how much, until we’re overwhelmed and can’t even help ourselves anymore?”
“You do what you can,” Carrie said, “you give until it hurts, and then you continue to help as resources allow. It’s the same in any aid station or field hospital or homeless shelter. Selfishness kills.”
“You’re right, and I admire that,” McLean said. “But it’s like we talked about before, Carrie. You have to take care of yourself in order to be of use to others.”
“Yes, but we can’t lose sight of why we’re taking care of ourselves-- ultimately, it’s to be productive and helpful, not just to survive.”
JD came back from the horses and hunkered down by the entrance to his one-man tent. “Let ‘em all burn,” he said, shaking his head. He had overheard the last part of the conversation. “They had their chance to prepare, and they blew it. We owe them nothing. It’s like the ants and the grasshopper. Grasshoppers don’t get a free ticket just because we feel bad for them.”
Carrie glowered. “You don’t really believe that, do you, JD?”
He shrugged. “At some point every person has to take responsibility for themselves, and for those they care about. A man should prepare for his children’s future, and for his aging parents. But he’s under no obligation to take care of the random guy on the street.”
“Not your brother’s keeper, huh?” Carrie replied. “I’ve heard the argument before, believe me. I guess it’s a personal decision. Some of us think brothers should look out for one another. And some of us consider everyone our brother, whether they behave wisely or not.”
“I don’t know about that,” JD countered. “Turning the other cheek is liable to get you killed these days. But I do know one thing: when the time comes, I’ll be willing to fight to restore what we’re leaving behind.”
“Amen to that,” McLean added. “We’ll survive, and we’ll take care of ourselves. Maybe we’ll be able to do some good for others along the way. But no matter what, someday we need to come back from all this and retake what was lost.”
They each drifted into sleep after that, letting the fire slowly die out and snuggling into their sleeping bags. McLean woke himself every few hours to listen and look around, but nothing disturbed them.
Early in the morning he noticed Carrie was awake as well, staring up past the dark pine boughs to the starry sky above. “So bright,” she whispered, pointing skyward. McLean nodded. The Milky Way stretched overhead in a brilliant arc, a billion formerly invisible stars backing up the recognizable constellations.
Somewhere nearby an owl hooted, and something rustled in a bush next to the tents. One of the horses snorted softly. McLean smiled. He was comfortable out here. He had been working too hard during the last few years to get out very much, but he still slept out under the stars once or twice a summer, just to keep a deeper connection with the land than his house afforded.
As he faded back into sleep, he started dreaming about what his ranch would be like five, ten, twenty years down the road. Carrie was there for all of them.
Chapter 10 : Hard Rain
Dawn was cold. McLean got up and lit the fire, checked the horses, and heated some water. After breakfast they divided the tasks of packing away the tents and prepping the horses for the day’s ride. By the time the sun was really up they were on the trail and moving.
They had carefully buried the entire fire ring, brushed out all their prints with pine branches, and tossed handfuls of needles and leaves over the area. A skilled tracker would still be able to find the campsite, but to anyone else that happened by it would look like no one had ever been there. McLean wasn’t planning on being hunted by a professional, he just didn’t want to leave an obvious trail. “Leave No Trace” had become a mantra of security now instead of environmental ethics.
An hour after sunup they had to stop before descending a steep, rocky incline so that DJ could adjust his saddle and figure out what was causing it to slip to one side. JD took the opportunity to pull Carrie aside into the trees and have some target practice.
“We’ll take a few shots and then get moving again,” he told Carrie, “so that if anyone hears us we’ll already be gone by the time they get here.”
He showed her how to draw the pistol safely, thumb the safety off, and aim without putting her finger onto the trigger until she was ready to shoot. He helped her find a good shooting stance and grip, but emphasized that she wouldn’t always be in an ideal position and should practice drawing while mounted, and lying down as well. Then he had her aim at a knot on a tree several yards away and squeeze off a couple shots.
Carrie’s first shot knicked the trunk and her second missed entirely. JD, following the time-honored Hollywood Western tradition, wrapped his muscular arms around her to adjust her grip and aim. Then he had her take a few more shots until she was hitting the tree. He was just putting his arms around her again to explain how to line up the sights for longer distances when McLean walked over and saw them.
“Are you serious?” he called out to JD. “I thought you were shooting, not making love over here.”
JD let go of Carrie. “I was helping her aim!” he protested, but Carrie burst into laughter at the ridiculous situation, and JD joined in as he realized how transparent his attempt had been.
“Whatever,” McLean said, shaking his head and walking back to the horses. “Come on, let’s hit the trail.”
“We’ll have to take this up again later,” Carrie said.
“Yeah, maybe a little farther off in the trees,” JD replied, and they both laughed all the way back to the horses.
The group of riders wound its way through the mountains, crossing bends of Bear Creek and its tributary rivulets. The horses appreciated splashing through the frequent waterways and pausing to drink, and for their riders it became a way to measure the distance they’d covered. It felt good when, at midday, they came to yet another large creek and crossed it.