by J. Reichman
Brett. He said he had no interest in running, didn’t want the responsibility. It would be a problem if he changed his mind. Nick felt he looked small next to the brawny Brett. I have to discourage any notion Brett might have about running, and I need Wade’s support, too. Wade advertised trail rides and campouts in the summer and snowmobile rides in the winter. Nick feared Wade considered him soft, not a man’s man as he didn’t hunt or fish. After twenty-some years, was Wade in financial trouble? Maybe he could help Wade out somehow, get his support. Wade didn’t say much, but everyone listened when he talked.
Will Chuck run again? Chuck might be a good administrator, but he has no vision, no plan for the future. North Fork Glen needs to expand, create more business, draw in more tourists. Nick wondered how he could prevent Chuck from filing. Maybe suggest to Chuck that he should concentrate on his marriage and business. Sympathize with Chuck about how busy he is to make him drop out of the race. Zenia said Chuck was a good manager. Has he managed to get the village out of the red?
Nick tipped back his head and breathed deeply. The freshly-washed smell which permeated the air four days ago now took on a somewhat musty, decaying odor. Drumming of the rain on the overhead steel roof drowned out all other sounds, and he turned his back to the chill wind coming down off the mountain. With the weather turning, he might not get another golf game in until spring. I’ll call Brad about tennis when I get to Estes Park. Lyn will be tired after working the night shift, so she can sleep while I play. In spite of the dismal weather, he felt buoyed by the thought.
As he headed north from the village, he passed Wade Murphy going the other way. What’s he doing out here? He slowed at the bridge. Muddy water swirled and foamed beneath it. Wade’s worried about the river, he realized. Nick forgot about playing tennis.
TWO
Brett Jackson closed the service station's door and hunched his shoulders against the chill. Cold rain trickled down his neck, and he wished he’d worn his hat. He glanced to his left where his sporting goods store remained dark, the parking lot empty. No reason to open the place, he thought. Further down, he could barely see Giovanni’s Pizza and Buddy’s Bar dim and shadowy in the foggy rain. A car crept by, its tires whooshing through the water and throwing an arc to the curb. Across the highway, lights of Town Hall and Hardin's General Store pierced the gloom and glistened on the wet pavement. Behind them, the thunder of the river reverberated off the hills. Movement caught Brett's eye. He watched pear-shaped Henrietta Jones storm from the general store, rev her pickup's engine, and accelerate up the hill. The lady had some good ideas, but they mostly benefited only herself. He sympathized with Chuck. After another survey of his sporting goods store, he dashed across the highway to Hardin's door to buy supplies for dinner.
Zenia Tomachek looked up from restocking cans on a bottom shelf. "Aren’t you opening your place?" She struggled to her feet.
"Need supplies for dinner." Brett took off his glasses, leaned over, and shook the raindrops from his hair. "Taco salad sounds good."
"No taco shells." Zenia picked up a bag of corn chips. "These would do."
Brett wiped raindrops from his glasses as he inspected the vegetables, selected a tomato and a head of lettuce. "I've got the seasoning. Hamburger?"
"In the freezer."
Dana Hardin burst from the store's office, her short blonde hair frizzed around her face. "I can't stay."
Chuck followed and grabbed her arm. "It's only noise, Honey."
"Don't touch me." She faced her husband, hands on her hips. "I've told you for days I can't stand it. I can't stand the sound of that . . . that sewer even when it's normal. It makes me want to pee."
Brett noticed Zenia hide a smile with her hand. He stared at Dana's heaving chest, her breasts pushing against the sleeveless top, nipples taut. He reconsidered the benefits of marrying a woman half his age. Maybe Zenia was right about Chuck’s marriage being in trouble, but, even if she were available, Dana sure wasn’t his type. Too fussy and girly for me.
"We've got to keep the store open, Honey. People depend on us."
"I'm taking the Bronco." Dana pulled keys from her purse. "I'll pick Denver up from day care. You've got Zenia. You don't need me." She pushed the door open, almost knocking down Shannon Osterman who quickly stepped back. The door slammed after her.
"Really! What's her problem?" Shannon asked.
"Rain's got to her. Look, I've got business next door. Wish I had a rain coat." Chuck picked up a newspaper to hold over his head as he left the store.
"Mr. Important," Zenia scoffed.
"My God, I think we need Noah and the Ark." Below Shannon’s slicker, rain had darkened her jeans.
"You jogged down the hill?" Zenia asked.
"After being shut up for days, I needed the exercise."
"Don’t you use your treadmill when it rains?" Brett placed a pound of hamburger next to the register.
"It gets pretty boring. Is that the river I hear?"
"Look out back," Zenia said. "You can see it up on the far bank."
Zenia led them to the rear door and opened it. Brown water foamed and swirled over the far bank.
"Wow!" Brett said. "That's the highest I've ever seen it."
"Guess we do need an ark,” Shannon said. "I'd better get my groceries and head back."
"What do you need?" Zenia trailed behind Shannon.
Brett looked to his right upstream. In the distance, he noticed the West Fork, boiling with foam and debris as it joined the North Fork. Town Hall blocked his view of the bridge over the North Fork, and he wondered how high the bridge was above the turbulent waters. He estimated the river about five feet below the bank on which Town Hall and Hardin’s sat, so they were safe for now. The dams upstream must be under tremendous pressure, Brett thought. Hope they hold. He shut the door.
"No fresh green beans?" Shannon grimaced. "Broccoli will do. Never can tell what guys will eat."
"Who's booked in?" Brett said as he lined up his purchases.
"Two fishermen. They'll cancel, I imagine, and an older couple. Her birthday."
"Taking business away from me again."
Shannon frowned at him. “How do you figure?"
"I did a lot better before you opened the b and b."
"We handle entirely different clientele, Brett. I get the older crowd, the fishermen, people who want to be waited on. You get young couples, families, ones who want to be alone. I don't take kids."
"Then how do you explain my drop in occupancy?"
"When was the last time you updated the cabins?"
"Well, it's been awhile."
"Not since Maddy left," Zenia put in. "They're looking pretty run-down."
“Do you seriously think I take business away from you?”
Brett shrugged. “Maybe it was only a lousy season.”
And maybe she’s right. You’re an idiot, picking an argument with her. He wanted to run his fingers through her dark, wavy hair again. Watch her twirl a wayward strand. Kiss that wide mouth. No reason to blame her for my bad season, but it irritates me that she keeps our relationship a secret.
“I can never tell when you’re joking,” Shannon said.
"Tell you what. Get your stuff." Brett picked up his bag of groceries. "I'll run you up to the Lodge. Give me a minute and I'll pull up out front."
Shannon rewarded him with a hesitant smile. "Sounds good. I wasn’t looking forward to the jog up the hill in the rain."
Brett trotted across the highway to his Durango in the store’s parking lot. A poor season didn’t matter to him. His finances were fine, and he had full reservations for October when tourists came to see the elk in their mating season. He figured that would help Wade, too, as the gawkers would want to ride up into the forest. He loved his life and the village and wouldn’t change a thing. Well, maybe for Shannon. He hummed a tune as he pulled to the general store and opened the passenger door for her.
"I really appreciate this." She swung the bag to her feet
and slammed the door. "It's really coming down. How much have we had?"
"About five inches total." Brett guided the vehicle west to Cougar Run. "It's the heavy rainfall upstream that worries me."
"Made your plans for this winter? Skiing Switzerland this year?"
"No." Brett turned the vehicle uphill and accelerated. "I'm thinking of Canada or the U.S. instead. Come with me."
Shannon shook her head. "Can’t."
"Just for a week in Canada. It'd be fun."
"What about Kyle? I can't take off with a teenage son in school."
"A weekend in Steamboat, then. Take Kyle with us. Does he ski?"
"I've never taken him.”
Brett stopped his vehicle in front of the Red Rooster Lodge. "Be a good time for him to learn. Let's do it."
Shannon looked at him searchingly. "I'll think about it. Really, I will.”
“Shannon.” Brett grasped her arm. “I want to see you more often.”
“It’s hard.” She sighed. “I want to set a good example for Kyle.”
“He knows we see each other. Hell, the whole town knows. It’s that kind of place.” Brett touched her chin and turned her face toward him. “You act as though it has to be some kind of secret. I know I’m not much of a catch, but. . .”
“Don’t belittle yourself.” Shannon bit her lip. “I don’t want to be considered an unfit mother.”
“No sane person would think that.” Brett moved the hair off her cheek. “I want our relationship out in the open. We’re adults. Both divorced. This is the twenty-first century.”
“And you see it only from a man’s point of view. Reputation is important to me.”
“Our relationship isn’t going to damage your reputation. I wouldn’t suggest being open about it if it would.”
Shannon twirled a strand of her hair and appraised him. “Well, we’ll see.”
What’s holding her back? She’s enthusiastic in bed. Does she only want sex from me?
“How about tomorrow night we eat at the deli and take Kyle and a friend to a movie up in Estes.”
“A real date.” Shannon looked at him with a sly smile. “I guess that would be okay. But only if you shave and get a haircut.”
“You think I’m looking a bit shabby?”
“Your hair’s down to your shoulders and you haven’t shaved in days.”
Brett rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Okay. It’s a deal. And you’ll seriously think about a ski weekend?”
Shannon nodded. “I will. Promise. Then again, maybe instead of running around skiing and spending all that money you should stay here and work on the cabins."
"You would get in a final dig."
"I’m serious. Winter's slow for me. I could help. I'm a whiz with a paint brush."
"You'd do that?"
"Sure, why not? You said you wanted to see me more often."
Brett smiled. This is progress. Shall I take it further? Nothing ventured. "I’ll shave today if we can get together tonight after Kyle’s asleep."
"We'll see. Call me later." She opened the vehicle's door and leaned to him for a quick kiss. "Thanks again." She slammed the Durango's door and raced for shelter.
Brett hummed a tune as he drove away, his life perfect. Pausing at the end of the drive, he considered detouring up to Wade Murphy’s stable to reassure his old friend of their continued cooperation. He glanced at his purchases from Hardin’s and decided to drop by home before opening his store.
THREE
Leaving Striker’s service station, Wade Murphy drove west on Highway 45 to the bridge over the North Fork. Past the bridge, he pulled to the shoulder and got out of the Jeep. He walked back to the bridge and stood looking upstream, but his mind wasn’t on the turbulent water. He knew he was getting older, could feel it in his bones every morning. Nora moved slower, too. The past twenty-five years had been good to them. The stable, his biggest asset, was mortgage free. My Army pension will cover our expenses, but without income from the stable, can I keep the horses?
I can’t get rid of my horses. He shook his head at this thought. Those animals meant everything to him. Still, feeding them was an expense. Then there were vet bills and farrier costs. I gotta keep the stable profitable to keep the horses. Don’t wanta borrow money. He tried to think of a way to entice more riders. He considered advertising, a sign down by Two Rivers. Technology hurt him. Kids today got no interest in ridin’ out into the wilderness. They play video games on their IPads or send texts on their cell phones. This rankled him and he gripped the bridge rail harder. The stupidity of ignoring the beauty of nature in favor of an electronic device was beyond his understanding.
A Budweiser truck roared by throwing water on Wade and bringing him back to the present. He studied the brown water rushing several feet below the bridge, pressing branches and shrubs against its pilings. He wondered if the Big Butte was flooding, too. He could foresee a problem if high water on the North Fork met high water on the Big Butte at Two Rivers. Believing the dams upstream would prevent a serious dilemma, he returned to the Jeep and drove back to North Fork Glen, passing Nick on the way.
That Woodburn, he mused. Nice enough fella. Short. Wiry. Smart. Guess you gotta have some brains to be a doctor, even if it’s only a pediatrician. Still something strange about the way he hangs back. Bet he wouldn’t have joined in on teasin’ Jeff if I hadn’t given him that wink. He remembered the poker game incident. Jackson invited Woodburn to join the game, and Woodburn came once, so Jackson asked why he wasn’t coming any more. Woodburn said he didn’t understand it was a permanent invite. Thought it was only for the once to fill in for someone. Turned out to be a good poker player.
Wade considered his interchange with Jackson that morning. He shouldn’t have jumped on him that way. He mentally kicked himself for letting the rain and a poor season get to him. He knew Jackson wished him the best, was a good friend. He drove by the service station hoping to see him, but only Hayes was inside and the sporting goods store was still closed.
Hayes. The boy can ride and is probably a decent shot, but he talks too much. He’ll ruin the serenity of the hunting trip. Wade enjoyed the silent ride up to the high meadows, the creaking of the saddles, the yellow aspens fluttering in the breeze, the salty smell of horse sweat whisked away to be replaced by the pungent odor of pine. He doubted Hayes would appreciate any of that. The boy, excited about the adventure, would yak away, take pictures with his cell phone and send them to his friends like all the young people today who went on his trail rides.
At the stable, Wade braked his Jeep to a halt in what would’ve been a cloud of dust on a normal September day. Today, however, the Jeep skidded in the mud and nearly took out the corral fence. Nora stepped from the barn pushing a wheelbarrow piled with horse manure. Slender and flat chested, her hair covered by a Stetson, she looked more like a young stable hand to him than a woman in her sixties. Well, he thought, her face is the face I love. Mud clung to her boots, and dark streaks marred her jacket and jeans.
Wade grimaced as he alit from the Jeep.
“Back botherin’ you again?” Nora pitched a shovelful of manure onto her compost pile.
“Ain’t nothin’.” Wade shrugged. “Road’s all torn up from the rain. Danged ol’ Jeep ain’t got no shock absorbers.”
“Been listenin’ to the radio while I worked in the barn.”
“Yeah?” Wade rested his arms on the corral’s top rail.
“Through all the static and fadin’ in and out.” Nora leaned on her shovel. “Heard fifteen inches fell up on Hagues Peak north of Estes.”
Wade frowned. “Dang! That ain’t good.”
“How’d the river look?”
“Runnin’ high.” Wade spit. “Went west across the bridge to check. Both the West and North Forks over bank full.”
“They both begin up on Hagues Peak, don’t they?”
“Yeah.” Wade opened the corral gate. “Dams gotta hold.”
Nora resumed shoveling from the
wheelbarrow. “Electricity’s cuttin’ out again.”
“Better break out the candles.” Wade gestured toward the barn. “You finished?”
Nora nodded. “No sense brushin’ the horses. Ain’t nobody comin’ today.”
“You know I like tendin’ them. I’ll brush them down and let them go back to pasture.” He put two fingers into his mouth and let out a shrill whistle.
Jeff Hayes opened another carton of cigarettes and filled the rack with packs, keeping an eye on the traffic and activities across the street. He saw Dana leave in the Bronco followed by Chuck dashing over to Town Hall again. Not long after that, Brett emerged, trotted to his Durango with a plastic bag in his hand, drove to the general store’s door, and picked up Shannon. A knowing grin spread across Jeff’s face.
The day dragged. Jeff knew he should be grateful for his minimum-wage job close to home, but it sure lacked excitement. Still, he’d had a couple of raises, knew everyone in North Fork Glen, and chatted with customers, something he enjoyed. When business picked up at his folks’ locksmith shop in Estes, a job awaited him there. He pictured it. I’ll drive all over town helping people with lock problems. Apartment complexes. Drivers locked out of cars. Maybe even go into the National Park. No more being stuck in one place all day. Rent an apartment of my own, meet girls at the clubs, take them back to the apartment. He imagined the soft flesh of firm breasts, the feel of round buttocks under his hands, the way she opened her legs to invite . . . He experienced the beginnings of an erection and headed for the restroom.
Just then, the back door buzzer sounded, and Jeff opened the door expecting to see Ernie, the Bud driver. Instead, a short, stocky young man with curly dark hair greeted him.
“Got some beer for you.” The man handed Jeff an invoice.
“Where’s Ernie?”
The man shrugged. “Out of town somewhere. Think somebody died.” He took a hand truck from the back of the vehicle and tossed cases of beer onto it. “I’m running his route on top of my own for a couple of days. Makes a long day. Where do you want this?”
