by L. E. Harner
“Hey, Doc! Nan said you’d be checking in today.” She turned away from the counter and grabbed a key from a row of hooks. He noticed most of the hooks were still full. There would be a lot of achy heads around the table at dinner if people were hiking in the late afternoon heat.
When she turned back, she had a key and two cans of beer. “She also said to give you these for your room, but to remind you to drink your water, too. Can’t stay hydrated with just the alcohol,” she said, her laugh braying out like one of the mules. “Okay, Doc, you head on to your cabin, and we’ll see you for dinner. Reservation says today you got the steak dinner and tomorrow night you got the stew. That means you get the early seating tonight.”
With a map in hand, Gabe pushed out of the door and swung left, as directed. His gaze was immediately drawn to the woman sitting alone in the shade. Her backpack lay on its side in the dust, and it looked as if there might be tear tracks on her cheeks.
“Diane? Is everything okay? Are you hurt?” The doctor in him was ready to spring into action.
“What? Oh no, I’m not hurt. It’s just…there was a mix up. They thought we cancelled our reservation when…” She shook her head and then took a deep breath. Speaking quickly, she said, “They gave away our reservation. Of course, now all the cabins and dorms are booked. The campground is full. I’m not sure what we’re going to do…” Her gaze drifted back in the direction of the river.
“Uriah thought we could wait until some of the campers arrive later and then see if someone was willing to share a space. We do have a back county permit, but it’s not valid until Wednesday. We have to…have to— It’s just…” She looked more lost than ever. Tears welled again and threatened to spill.
There was no conscious thought process. They were at Phantom Ranch, at the end of a nine-mile hike, at the bottom of the Grand Canyon. The temperature was at least twenty degrees hotter than it had been at the top, and he knew it would soar to close to one hundred and twenty degrees before the afternoon heat was finished with them. Why in the hell hadn’t her idiot of a husband confirmed their reservation before they left the rim? The cabins were booked more than a year in advance.
Not that he’d actually waited that long himself and wasn’t that the irony of the situation? Being the assistant soccer coach over the summer had netted him at least one benefit. His friend Nan had put him on the waiting list for a cabin shortly after he’d stitched up her son’s foot after a soccer mishap. When they’d gotten a last minute cancellation, his name had been at the top of the list. Now he was faced with a couple whose room reservation had been cancelled. Sharing was the only decent thing to do.
“It’s just the two of you, right? I‘ve got this handled, no problem,” he said. “You’ll stay in my cabin.”
“Oh, but—“
“Look, I know we don’t know each other, but I’ve been the doctor assigned to the clinic here in the park all summer. The rangers can vouch for me. And you can give them your names to keep on file. That gives us each a little bit of protection, just in case you’re a homicidal axe murderess.” He glared down at her, made his mouth a frown. “You’re not, are you? An axe murderess, I mean. You don’t look like a killer, but God knows, I couldn’t run away from a tortoise right about now.”
“No, I haven’t killed a stranger all week,” she said. There went that dimple again. He’d hoped to make her smile, and wasn’t disappointed. But it was a good damned thing he was so sore and too tired to move, because between her and her fucking pouty-lipped husband, he was going to be hard all night.
Gabe held out his hand to pull Diane to her feet. “Come on, killer. Let’s go find the cabin and get out of the heat for a while. Then you can tell me—“
He stumbled forward with the force of the blow that landed between his shoulder blades. He’d have gone down to the ground if he’d been wearing his pack. As it was, he staggered sideways, and turned to find himself staring into the nearly black eyes of one very large and very pissed off Uriah Wadsworth.
*
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Get your goddamn hands off her!” He stood tall over the sandy-haired man who’d been holding Diane’s hand. “Diane, you are not going to do this to me, again. Not now.”
For just a moment, two faces stared back at him and judging from their wide eyes and open mouths, they hadn’t expected him to return so soon. That's just too fucking bad.
“Stop, Uriah. Stop right now. You have no right—“ Diane started to say.
“Shut up. I have every right, and you—“ His own words choked off when the stranger he recognized from the trail stepped right up to him. Uriah rolled his shoulders and glowered down. He was a good four inches taller and twenty pounds heavier, yet the other man hadn’t backed off. Instead, he’d stepped closer, until they stood just a few inches apart. With his arms hanging loose by his side and hands fisted, the man was clearly willing to take Uriah on. Something not many men were willing to try.
“Stop it!” Diane said and tried to push her way between the two men. “Goddamn you, Uriah! Quit acting like an ass. He’s the doctor here at the park…his name is Gabe, and he’s just offered us a place to stay. Or at least he did until you went all caveman.”
“Is that right?” he asked, never breaking eye contact the man…with Gabe. “And who’s gonna fix your ass up after I teach you some respect…Gabe?”
Instead of backing off, Gabe smiled at him. It was a look that made Uriah feel like the other man knew something…something he shouldn’t. Then hips pressed against hips, chest against chest, and the smell of hot sweaty man surrounded both of them.
Gabe spoke in a low, smooth voice that fucking grabbed at Uriah’s balls. “Oh, I think we both know who needs to be taught respect.” And still Gabe smiled.
Uriah stepped back and cleared his throat. “Come on, Diane. Let’s go talk to the rangers. There’s gotta be something we can do….”
“You go talk to the rangers. I’m done. Gabe, I’m sorry. If the invitation is still open, Gabe, we’d love to take you up on it.”
****
Joe Yazzie’s stomach churned and he wiped his palms on his khaki shorts. With a quick tilt of his head, his long black hair swung down, creating a curtain through which he could watch the big man at the counter of the Phantom Ranch Ranger Station. The man looked like a hulking bear, dwarfing Sue Petrie, the petite blonde ranger on desk duty.
Squeezing his hands into tight fists, Joe dug his nails into his palms and closed his eyes so he could focus on what was being said. The wind was rushing in his head again, making it hard to hear. He thought the spirits were talking, but he would answer them later.
“My reservation for a cabin was mistakenly cancelled and I need a spot at the campground,” the familiar voice growled.
“I’m sorry, sir. That’s just not possible. We’re booked full—“
“Shit. Shit, shit, shit,” the big man muttered before the ranger even finished speaking. Then the door banged shut, and Joe thought it might be okay to look up again.
“I wonder how many more will—“ Sue began, but Joe didn’t wait to listen the ranger’s frequently uttered frustration at the number of people who arrived at the bottom without a place to stay. He followed the other man out the door.
Keeping a safe distance, Joe tried to hear beyond the wind and wondered if this was one of the Diné ancestors come to call. The man he followed stalked with the grace of a mountain lion moving through canyon, intent on his prey. Joe watched as he knocked once on the door of a cabin and then entered without waiting. Spirits do not knock and they do not slam doors.
Joe pressed his fingers to his eyes, and then looked again. He fought through the noise in his head and found reality. His lover hadn’t killed himself—hadn’t planned on coming to be with him. What the fuck is he doing here? The wind whispered and Joe knew the truth. His lover was here to steal what he’d promised to protect.
The man was a liar. A cheat. Not dead. You couldn’t ex
cuse that type of behavior. Someone had to put a stop to it.
Chapter Two
“I let a guy suck my dick once,” Uriah said. He squinted through a whisky-induced haze and tried to focus on the faces of the two people seated opposite him at the small, wooden picnic table.
Diane’s mouth opened. Shut. Opened again. Then she looked away and shook her head, as if to clear the image. When her gaze met his again, she blinked rapidly underneath raised brows. Then he remembered—that was a sore subject. God, how could I have been so stupid?
The hike…the heat…the stress. Especially the stress over the cancelled room reservation. That was the real reason they’d come to the canyon in the first place. Jesus, what a cluster fuck.
In just a matter of a few hours, he’d gone from nearly kicking Gabe’s ass to getting shitfaced with him and Diane outside the cabin they were now sharing. And playing some damn version of truth or dare. Did I really just admit getting blown by a dude? Shit, I’m drunk.
Gabe squinted at him. “S’that right? Did you like it?”
“Nuh uh. All you get is one answer. S’Diane’s turn to go next.”
“Not playing,” Diane said. “I’ll take the drink instead.” She sat across from him, looking as beautiful as ever. All long legs and golden tan, her dark blonde hair spilling around her shoulders. God. Has there ever been a time I haven’t loved her? He shook his head. She deserved to be married to a standup guy. Not like…he shied away from that thought. Yeah, married to a good guy…someone like Gabe was what Diane deserved. A doctor, no less. He looked down at his large, callused hands, and frowned.
Gabe swung an arm around Diane’s shoulder and ruffled her hair. “Aww…come on, Dee. Tell us something we don’t know. What’s your biggest fantasy?”
Uriah loved how Gabe was so easy with her, throwing out nicknames and endearments. I wish I could be like that. Maybe when this is all over….
Diane shook her head sharply. She picked up the bottle, looked at the label and gave an experimental sniff. A cough exploded from her throat from the smell. “Shit!” She slammed the top of the wooden picnic table with her palm. “Damn, Gabe. Couldn’t you have brought something smoother?” With her eyes squeezed tight, she made a show of tossing back a swallow of ginger ale instead of the whisky.
Gabe slapped Diane on the back, and laughed. “Come on, lightweight. I think maybe you’ve had enough.” Then Gabe groaned as he started to untangle his legs from the picnic table. “You guys really going hiking tomorrow? ‘Cause I gotta tell you…I think I might have broken something.”
“Moving slow, old man,” Uriah said. He grinned and bit back a laugh at the outraged expression on Gabe’s face. Then he tried to move and discovered his own muscles had stiffened and no longer seemed to be entirely cooperative. Shit.
Uriah tried to avoid drawing attention to his difficulty moving by casually leaning to the side and lifting his leg over the bench. He overbalanced, corrected, then kept right on going. This is like fucking slow motion. Landing hard on his back, his breath escaped on a whoosh. Two startled faces looked down at him.
To give him credit, Gabe didn’t laugh. Not at first, anyway. Diane did, though. Lord, she howled and hooted until tears ran down her cheeks. Uriah blinked up at the two of them, and felt the first rumble of laughter in his own chest, just before it exploded in a loud, uncontrollable burst. He laughed until his eyes stung, until the tears leaked. Deep belly laughs that tightened the muscles in his stomach and made it harder to breathe. He laughed until he remembered why he was here at the bottom of the canyon, and then his laughter turned to a strangled sound that that threatened to loosen his grief.
*
Gabe reached down, “Come on, Uriah. Let me help you up.” When Uriah’s paw closed around his hand, he tried to ignore the spark that flowed between them. Jesus. The young man was drunk, clearly in deep emotional distress. And he’s here with his wife, for Christ’s sake. Gabe told his fucking dick to stand down and pulled Uriah to his feet.
Despite Uriah’s damp eyes and the emotional pain he seemed to be experiencing, Gabe didn’t immediately step back. The noble thing to do would be to push the young man toward his wife. Fuck noble. Maybe he was a little drunk, too. For a long moment, they stood chest to chest, just looking at each other. Gabe fought the urge to reach up and wipe the dampness from Uriah’s lashes. He could smell the younger man, the soap from the shower, smoke from the ranger’s campfire, the whisky on his breath. As Uriah moistened his lips with the tip of a pink tongue, Gabe’s gaze fastened on the lush mouth, and he wanted to taste the plump bottom lip.
This could go wrong in so many ways and none of them could exactly get in the car and drive away. Uriah leaned forward slightly, but Gabe placed a firm hand against the other man’s chest. “Not tonight, college boy. It’s time we all slept this off.” He pushed the still damp-around-the-eyeballs and now slightly pouty man toward his wife.
“Here you go, Diane. I’ll let the two of you get settled and try not to wake you when I come in.” Her wide eyes held a silent plea, and he imagined she didn’t want to be alone with her husband right now. Tough shit. He didn’t want to be alone with either of them, let alone both of them. Gabe ignored the devil on his shoulder that called him a liar. He grabbed the nearly empty bottle from the table and walked into the night.
****
I am in big trouble. Diane just couldn’t decide who was the most dangerous…Uriah or Gabe. The heat that flared between the two men was every woman’s fantasy. Okay, maybe not every woman, but certainly hers. For a minute, she’d thought they were going to kiss. She decided right then if they did…she was going to beg to watch. Or join them. With a deep sigh, she wrapped her hands around Uriah’s massive forearm, and steered him toward the door.
Even though the cabin was tiny, the small air conditioning vents on the floor just couldn’t push out enough cold air to reach the top bunks. They’d followed Phantom Ranch tradition and moved the mattresses to the floor in order to create one large bed. It gave them the best chance at the cool air. It might keep them cooler, but there was barely room to walk.
“Ow! Hey….” Uriah said. He banged his elbow on the narrow doorway as they shuffle-staggered inside.
“Oh shut up, you big goon. It’s not my fault you drank so much. Come on, you need to get some sleep.”
As soon as the door was closed behind them, Uriah slid his shorts down his thighs.
“Oh, Jesus, Uriah, put that thing away,” Diane said. She laughed. “Honey, you can’t sleep nude, you have company. Gabe was nice enough to share his cabin. You don’t want to scare him away by flashing Moby Dick.”
“Umpf,” he said. He staggered and swayed as he pushed the shorts the rest of the way down his legs and kicked them aside. Then, like a giant pine felled by an axe, Uriah went down. Diane was eternally grateful he was semi aligned with the mattresses. There would be no moving him, now.
Diane sighed again. She changed into a cami and her underwear, brushed her teeth, and crawled onto the mattress. She poked Uriah’s shoulder. “You could have a least fallen on one side or the other—but no…you needed to take the entire middle. Hope Gabe isn’t squeamish about sleeping next to another man.”
He gave a grunt, gathered his pillow under his head, and turned his face to the side.
Diane was beyond exhausted. The sun, the heat, the brutal descent down the steep trail had done their best to strip away the truth of why they were there. Before the thoughts could intrude and chase the much-needed sleep away, she heard Uriah mutter under his breath.
“Yeah, I liked it just fine.”
Chapter Three
Bacon never smelled so foul, Gabe thought as he stared around the canteen with bleary eyes.
“Nectar of the gods. Thanks, doll,” he said to the server who plunked down a large cup of coffee. He burned his tongue, too impatient to wait for the life-sustaining beverage to cool. With a thunk, he set the mug on the table and pretended his hands weren’t trembli
ng.
“Jesus, Doc. Tie one on last night after your hike? I thought you were smarter than that. Alcohol and dehydration are a bad combo.” He’d know that voice anywhere. Patti Cox, one of his oldest friends and the reason he was spending the summer in a National Park. He hadn’t realized she was on duty. He waited until she was seated across from him before he spoke.
“Why, thank you, Patricia. I guess my years at medical school were wasted. I should have become an EMT like you. Then I could hike to the bottom of the Grand Canyon every week, instead of working indoors with conditioned air.” He would have glared at the lanky, ginger-haired ranger, but he sort of thought his eyes might be bleeding.
She merely laughed. “Touchy, touchy. So are you going to the falls today or hanging around here at the bottom?”
“You’re just a riot this morning, Red. I am going to ingest coffee, dry toast, and ibuprofen. In that order. Then I am going to sleep until lunch, when I will emerge from my coma just long enough to admire the view for five minutes. At which point I will nap until dinner.” He sipped his coffee, winced, and paused to lightly blow on the surface to try to cool the deliciously strong brew.
“Holy Mother of God!” Patti whispered, her gamin face alight with excitement. “Serious man-candy, due west.”
Suspecting a ploy to make him suffer through unnecessary movement, Gabe closed his eyes. “I’m going to puke on you if you make me move. Go find someone else to torture.”
“Gabe, I’m not bull shitting. Quick, look. Wait! Don’t look. Damn, he’s headed toward the showers. He must be staying—“ she broke off. Her pale blue gaze shifted to his and she closed her mouth with a snap. It was too much to hope it would stay closed.
“Really?” she asked. The question was layered with equal parts awe and amusement.
“Gutter-brain,” he muttered. “If you mean really, did he sleep in my cabin, then yes. Along with his wife, so put your tongue back in your mouth. Their reservation got fucked up, so I gave ‘em a room. Then we drank whisky, hence the reason I feel so shitty.”
