Clash of Mountains

by Chloe Garner

  It was a long ride, and by sunset, they still hadn’t found Sarah’s cows. Dog lay panting next to the big woodfire that night, watchin’ Sarah as she set camp, lookin’ up at the sky.

  “Might get rain,” she said. “Could stretch a skin if you wanted it.”

  She’d looked for a natural rain hollow, but hadn’t seen one through the late evenin’, no big, stretchin’ trees what to soak up all the rain and divert it ‘fore it got to the ground.

  “What would you do if I weren’t here?” Jimmy asked.

  “Turn my coat round and put my hat over my face,” she said. He looked at the sky.

  “I always forget how much rain there is, over here.”

  “Most afternoons,” she said. “This one’s gonna be a big storm, to be comin’ this time of night.”

  “Then let’s see if we can’t stay a little drier,” he said. “I’m going to be sore tomorrow, either way. Riding wet is about the worst I’ve ever known.”

  She nodded, goin’ back to Gremlin’s saddle bags and gettin’ the gremlin-fiber tarp she’d oiled herself. Weren’t big enough for a tent - no point to that - but sometimes she couldn’t find a ground dry enough for sleepin’ and she’d put it down under her. Tied right, it’d put up a slick over ‘em to drop the rain to the side rather than right on top. She strung it ‘tween a couple ‘a trees and eyed it as Jimmy came to stand next to her.

  “That’s it?” he asked.

  “Ain’t packed for a hard expedition,” she said. “We get sick ‘a the wet, we can head to the dry side of the mountains for a night.”

  He crossed his arms, but nodded.

  “I can get through anything you can,” he said. She smiled.

  “Not hardly.”

  They both looked up, then Sarah turned and went back to her cookin’ pot, stirrin’ more gremlin.

  “You want game tomorrow?” she asked. “No reason I can’t go huntin’ while Dog is lookin’ ‘round.”

  “You’ve still got plenty of food,” Jimmy said. “Right? No reason we have to resort to wild meat.”

  She glanced side-long at him.

  “It’s a taste, Lawson. Might as well pick it up ‘fore you got to, to survive.”

  “You ever survived on wild-caught game up here?” Jimmy asked.

  She considered, watchin’ the fire burn and the pot bubble.

  “More’n once,” she said. “More’n twice.”

  “If this works, you won’t ever have to, again,” he said. “I know you’re going to keep your cows up here, and this is going to be a yearly thing for the rest of your life, but no more hunting and being hunted.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him.

  “You promise too big, Jimmy. We got claims to protect, and it’s only gonna get harder, keepin’ men’s hands off what ain’t theirs. We got a job gonna keep us in lead the rest of our lives.”

  Jimmy sighed.

  Sat shoulder-to-shoulder with her, lookin’ on into the fire.

  Dog put his head down, blinkin’ with a sort of end-of-day content, and somewhere off in the tree-dark the horses grunted at each other.

  “I’m going to die violently,” Jimmy said. “My whole family is. I hope that the women are spared, that I can find a way that they…” He shook his head. “The only way out is up. Up.”

  She looked over at him to find him watchin’ her, like as she weren’t there. Weary.

  She narrowed her eyes at him.

  “Jimmy Lawson,” she said. He registered her. “I known since the day you left there were a bullet ridin’ around out here somewhere what was gonna end my miserable life. First day I thought maybe that weren’t true was the day you turned up on my front porch. Now, you get hold ‘a yourself and you do what you was born to do.”

  “And what would that be?” he asked.

  She narrowed her eyes at him.

  “Not ask the likes ‘a me what to do next,” she said.

  He held her eye for several moments, then drew a breath.

  “Yes,” he said, the corner of his mouth coming up. “I’ll do that.”

  She turned to face the fire again, feelin’ him lean in closer, his nose touching the back of her ear.

  “Jimmy Lawson, I have to tell you again, I’m gonna do it at the point of a knife. This ain’t the time nor the place. It’s muddy and it’s only set to get worse. You keep the clean in and the dirt out, ‘less you wanna bathe in the coldest mountain water you ever known.”

  “Did I say I wanted to have sex?” he asked, his voice close, his breath in her skin.

  “You’re Jimmy Lawson,” she said. “You never want part of anything. You want all of it.”

  “Yes,” he said, putting his mouth to her neck.

  “Dammit, Jimmy,” she answered.

  --------

  The stream water was every bit as cold as advertised, and the storm every bit as violent. Sarah’s boots were an inch deep with water, by mornin’, and Gremlin and Flower dripped when they turned up for breakfast. Dog’d found some dry spot off on his own, and he turned up hungry and happy while the rest of them wrung out and got ready.

  “I told you,” Sarah said to Jimmy as she chewed jerky, leanin’ against Gremlin and watchin’ Jimmy wrestle into his boots.

  “If you’re looking for an apology, you aren’t going to get one,” he said. “Tell me about Elsewhere.”

  She crossed her arms, waitin’, and he looked up, his eyebrows up.

  “Tell me about Elsewhere,” he said again.

  “What do you want to know?” she asked. “Bigger than Lawrence, more civilized, better stocked for most everything. Enough grass for grazin’ a light herd, if you had a mind to, not as flat as here. Wouldn’t flood the same.”

  “Tell me about the people,” Jimmy said.

  “I didn’t spend much time with ‘em,” Sarah said. “Went shoppin’, time to time, with Rhoda’s daddy, but mostly kept to myself out at the house, tryin’ not to attract attention.”

  “How much economic need was there?” Jimmy asked. “Compared to Lawrence?”

  “Question’s for Rhoda, not me,” Sarah said, and he nodded. “What are you gettin’ at?”

  “We’d hire men out of the homesteads, if there were enough of them available,” Jimmy said. “They’re Lawrence and so are we, and they trust you. That’s where our people are.”

  “You’re sayin’ where we ain’t got enough of our own people, you reckon maybe Rhoda’s got some to spare?”

  He rolled his jaw to the side and nodded.

  “You said it. She’s good with people. They like her and they trust her. And Elsewhere is a lot bigger than here. Possible for the right money…?”

  Sarah nodded.

  “Worth a try,” she said. “Not wrong to bring in a few from Lawrence, the new guys, give ‘em a sense that the ones what stand out got a shot at workin’ for you, if that’s what they’re lookin’ to do.”

  Jimmy nodded.

  “It just keeps us from relying on them the same way, if we can find a different group of people we trust.”

  “What about your folk in Intec?” Sarah asked. “Reckon you left behind a heap of ‘em, like Sid, just waitin’ to jump at a chance, prove they’re your men.”

  “Maybe,” Jimmy said. “Different problems here than in Intec. Different style of fight.”

  “Your investors stood up pretty well, when it came to it,” Sarah said. “And they’d like as not be up against someone from Intec, anyway.”

  Jimmy nodded.

  “You’re right. Having a few of those minds here wouldn’t hurt us, either.”

  “You still plannin’ on runnin’ track up to Magnum?”

  “Through to Glendale,” Jimmy said. The westmost towns up and down the range wandered back and forth, same as the mountains, but they was all out at the end of a rail line what made it back to the coast on a pretty straight shot. Weren’t never a reason to hook ‘em together by rail, before, but Jimmy had a plan what involved havin’ more than one way o
ut of Lawrence. Bein’ able to send a private train up to Magnum or Glendale ‘fore turnin’ coastward meant less chance someone hopped on, along the way, and tried to kill the crew and snatch the absenta aboard.

  Lotta expense, lay that much track and get a train goin’ on it, but it’d pay, if the claims did.

  Claims didn’t pay, Lawrence would just shrivel and die again, and the track’d disappear quick enough under sand and clay. Flood only went so far east, but that entire stretch up to Magnum’d be under deep water near as long as Lawrence were. Nothin’ what weren’t maintained made it long, under that, and Sarah were increasingly convinced this was gonna be a rough year for floods.

  She didn’t often think about what would happen, if the claims failed.

  Weren’t a road to spend no time lookin’ down, if she didn’t have to walk it, and if she did, all the time in the world weren’t gonna change what happened next.

  “You think I should wait until after the flood,” he said, going to mount up and waitin’ on her to finish packin’ the bags and mount up next. Dog gave her a couple barks, lettin’ her know he was headed out, and she gave him a whisking wave. He were gone as fast as his feet’d take ‘im. Good dog.

  “I reckon the flood’s gonna bury you, ‘gardless of when you start,” she said. “Too many miles and too much water to hope for anythin’ else.”

  “And yet,” he said, Flower fallin’ in behind Gremlin.

  Air up this high were cold well into the afternoon after a big rain, and there would be another little storm after noon sometime, just for good measure. Lightnin’ the night before had spent hours splittin’ the sky overhead, lightin’ up the woods around ‘em and wakin’ Sarah up at intervals. She’d found Jimmy awake beside her most of ‘em, but she did know he slept, and he were lookin’ better this mornin’ than most, even given how wet and cold he was.

  Once again, they spent most of the day ridin’ without talkin’ much. Weren’t no need, and they didn’t fill up the space because there weren’t nothing wrong with the space as it were. They ate a cold lunch crouched next to each other on a fallen tree, Dog comin’ through at times to check whether they were set to go again, then they went on, down through valleys, followin’ a stream the way a herd of cows woulda done, then back up to ridges that they rode as Dog went up and down ‘em, scentin’ out everything. Sarah didn’t know better, she’d ‘a said he were out for the sheer glee of it, and he’d be sad once he found the cows.

  Thing about Dog, though. He came to work, and wouldn’t rest ‘till the work was done.

  Good dog.

  It was a hard ride, though Flower held up under it better ‘n Sarah expected. Altitude plus endurance weren’t the easiest combination, and Flower was easily the biggest horse she’d seen anywhere.

  Jimmy had all the signs of not doin’ so good. Wet and out of shape, he was done for long ‘fore the sun hit the mountains, and Sarah pulled him down off of Flower an hour to sunset.

  “There’s a big valley up here,” she said, pointin’. “Good spot, if there’s been cold, get down lower and get some better heat durin’ the nights. Dog ‘n I are gonna go check, come back. You got it in you to get a fire up?”

  “Don’t patronize me,” he answered.

  “Will if you need it,” she said, not intendin’ to be kind. He put his jaw forward, and she pulled the hatchet off her saddle, handin’ it to him.

  “You remember how to find dry kindlin’?” she asked. He took the hatchet without comment and set off toward an open space in the trees - most likely spot for a down tree. She nodded, mountin’ back up and shooin’ off Flower when he tried to follow. Dog panted at her, takin’ off again once he was sure she were followin’, and they crested a big ridge and started down again. She heard Dog barkin’ and cows lowin’, but she didn’t get her speed up yet, knowin’ it was like as not someone else’s cattle Dog had rustled up. He knew her cows on scent, but it didn’t stop him from pokin’ at the other ones, just to push ‘em around a bit ‘fore lettin’ ‘em get back to the business of wanderin’ about at random.

  She made the valley, watchin’ as random varmints went scatterin’ out of the light at the sound of Gremlin’s crunchin’ approach through the wood. Much higher, and there weren’t wood to speak of, but down here the growth were thick and happy, good water, good soil, good place for cows to make a camp.

  Dog pushed the cows out of the trees toward her, ignorin’ the complaints he got from the dumb beasts, and Sarah lifted her head, makin’ a count.

  “Well done, Dog,” she called, turnin’ to head back up the hill. “Bring ‘em in.”

  Dog pushed the cows faster ‘n she pushed Gremlin up the hill, easin’ ‘em off to the side of her as she left way through thinner wood. She watched ‘em go by. They looked good. Heavy with calves and angry at dog, but good coats and heavy with an easy season of grazin’. The feeders were ready for butcher, and the heifers were fit, ready for the bull, who followed along behind, menacin’ Dog from time to time to prove he weren’t ready for leather. He’d been her bull goin’ on six years, now, and it was about time to buy or trade a new one. Most years, she sold the heifers - weren’t no point in keepin’ a herd past her ability to tend it - but the Lawson barn and stock yard were plenty big for whatever she drove home, and she reckoned on growin’ the herd at least a few.

  Tradin’ were at tricky thing, as all the homesteads grazed the herds up here in the same range, and like as not a cow’d go back to its original herd if it had the chance, but if she kept ‘em together at the yard for a bit, to get used to the bull, and then brought ‘em up together, at a far enough end of the range, she usually got back the same ones she sent out, and where they had to, the homesteaders would sort ‘em out otherwise.

  This was life in Lawrence, when it were simple. Didn’t pay enough to make it a livin’ - up north it did, and Sarah had heard rumors of vast herds of cows on the far side of the mountains, grazin’ a great big plain of grass and breedin’ up a storm - but it kept up a supply of beef to add to her mostly-gremlin diet, and it left leather for tool-workin’ and some off-season textiles.

  They made it over the crest of the ridge and started back down again, and she smelled woodsmoke tellin’ her Jimmy had managed to get a fire goin’. Flower came up the hill to greet them, then walked back down alongside Gremlin as the cows scattered and lowed to each other, lookin’ for shelter in the thicker trees as Dog kept ‘em from goin’ too far.

  Jimmy were tendin’ a fine cookin’ fire when she found him, not far off from a stream where she’d get water for stew, if she wanted it, and where they’d top off water for the trek home.

  She dismounted, re-settlin’ her hat and gettin’ her duster set, then gettin’ down her saddle bags and pullin’ off Gremlin’s saddle to set ‘im loose for the night.

  “You found them,” he said, lookin’ off through the trees as the herd made nightfall. She nodded, toein’ the fire, then goin’ to get her tripod for the cookpot.

  “We’ll head back down out of the mountains tomorrow, should be back to Lawrence by the day next.”

  He was watching her, open face, cool. She ignored him, settin’ the tripod and goin’ to get water.

  When she got back, he was puttin’ more wood on the fire and blowin’ the coals up hot.

  “What in hell you doin’?” she asked.

  “Thought we might celebrate,” he said. “And I would dearly like to get all the way dry.”

  She snorted, pullin’ the tripod away while she could still touch it, shakin’ her head.

  “Ain’t no good for cookin’ on, like that.”

  “Well, then just come sit with me while it burns down,” he said, going back to a tree and toein’ his boots off to wiggle wet sock-toes at the fire. She almost laughed, settin’ the pot to the side where it wouldn’t get over hot and takin’ a spot not far from him, sittin’ on dewey grass. He looked over, readin’ her, though what he aimed to find she didn’t know.

  “I have missed so
much of your life,” he said. “I’ve always done what I wanted to do, and I have no regrets. I’ve been successful in every way I can imagine. And then I come up here with you and I always feel like I’ve wasted my whole life, because I could have been doing this.” She shrugged, and he put out a hand for a cigarette, waiting while she rolled one and handed it to him, unlit. He took out a lighter for it and took a slow, indulgent drag, then rested his head back against the tree again.

  “I felt the same way in Oxala,” he said. “Like I was wasting my time with the claims and the jumpers and all of this Lawrence noise, when I could have been there with you, smuggling and pirating and counterfeiting.” He blew out the rest of the smoke and offered her the cigarette. She took it, waiting. There was a back-hand coming. “It’s so simple,” he said, and she smiled. There it was. She drew air through the cigarette and blew it at the fire, turning away from him. “I make everything so damned complicated.”

  “Wouldn’t be happy any other way,” she said, and she heard him laugh.

  “No. I wouldn’t.” He was waiting, when she turned to look at him again, his expression still intent, but changed. Generous. Boyish, almost. Unprotected. “All those problems,” he said. “All my plans. It takes one day out here in your simple and I solve them all.”

  “They’re solved, then, are they?” she asked, putting the cigarette to her mouth. He leaned over onto his elbow, waiting, then took it from her lips, his fingertips just brushing against her as he leaned back.

  “I know what I need to do,” he said, his voice returned to normal.

  “Tell me,” she said. He shook his head.

  “It’s not that simple.”

  She looked at him sideways, feelin’ the heat of the fire on her face, the way it was baking the water out of her clothes. She let her duster slide off her arms and she took the kerchief from around her neck, flicking it out flat to let the dry reach it through.

  “Tell me, anyway,” she said.

  He looked over at her, lips parted, thoughtful, and he nodded.

  “Come sit with me,” he said.