We pulled into a grassy field and bumped over the rough ground until we stopped at a grove of trees by a creek that had dried to a slow crawl.
Brian got out of the truck. “This is all part of our land. You girls can set up here. We’ll get your truck. In the morning, we’ll bring you up to the ranch.”
He grabbed one of the cases of beer, handing us each a bottle and opening one for himself. He also handed us a bag of jerky. “Liquor store didn’t have much else, but you guys look hungry. We can bring you some more food tomorrow.”
“What are you going to tell your parents?” Dani asked.
He shrugged. “Ain’t no big secret. You’re some girls we met passing through who need to make some money so we can fix your truck.” He noticed us exchange looks. “I don’t have to say nothing if you want.”
Gavin added, “We can just tell them you live in town.”
“We’d appreciate that,” Dani said.
“You girls running away or something?” Gavin laughed.
“We just don’t like people knowing our business,” Dani said, her tone angry.
Brian held up his hands. “Easy, sister. Whatever floats your boat.”
After the boys left, I said, “I don’t like them—they’re being too friendly. And they know we’re hiding something now. They could steal the truck.”
“If they wanted to steal it, they didn’t have to pick us up. Better that they know we want it quiet than them yakking to everyone about us.”
“They still might,” Courtney said.
“I don’t think so,” Dani said. “I get the feeling maybe they shouldn’t be helping us out so much. Serves them to stay quiet too.”
I watched the boys’ truck driving over the field, then turning onto the road, a dust cloud following them. I looked around the campsite.
“It’s sure quiet here. You can’t see any houses or anything.”
“That’s good,” Dani said, unrolling the tent. “We don’t want anyone knowing we’re here.”
I looked back at where the truck had gone, nothing but dust now.
“I guess.”
*
We spent the afternoon setting up our tent and exploring the creek. We found a couple of pools where it was a little deeper and took baths, rinsing our hair, trying to get the dust out of our skin and from under our nails, but as soon as we’d dried off it felt like we were coated again. That night we were restless, rolling into each other for warmth, the ground uncomfortable. Courtney and I whispered to each other, worried about the truck and the boys. Dani finally told us to shut up.
The boys came to get us early the next morning. We piled into the back of their truck, and they took us up to the ranch. It was pretty, with a brightly painted sign that read LUXTON CATTLE RANCH at the entrance, white fences and flowers lining the driveway, a white Victorian farmhouse that looked like something out of a movie, with a wraparound veranda, a porch swing, and a couple of maple trees. I almost expected a woman to walk out in a pretty country dress and offer iced tea.
I aimed my camera, took a few pretend shots. I caught Brian watching me in his side mirror and put the camera down.
The cattle were out on summer pasture but the ranch had a lot of horses and a couple of barns, a big chicken run. We didn’t meet their parents, just a ranch hand named Theo who had a perpetual squint like he was always looking into the sun. He showed us around and explained that we had to walk the fence line to check for any breaks, and for posts that were leaning from the winter snow or from cows pressing their bodies into the fence, trying to escape. We drove two ATVs, pulling a trailer with the rolled-up barbed wire and fence poles behind us. It was hard work, digging in the dry rocky ground, pounding the posts down, our clothes and sometimes our skin snagging on the barbed wire, the sun burning the backs of our necks. We wore gloves, but our hands ached from handling the shovel and the thick wire, the cutting tools. The strap of my camera dug in, the camera heavier with every mile, but I wasn’t going to leave it in my packsack.
We turned our baseball caps around, slathered ourselves with suntan lotion, and used up all our water, but it felt good to be making some money. The guys came by once, driving another ATV.
“I couldn’t find a pump at the wrecking yard,” Brian said. “Had to order one in, might take a couple of days. It’ll take me a while to get it on your truck, need half a day and my uncle has a bunch of other shit lined up first.”
“So when do you think it will be ready?” Dani said.
“Maybe Friday. I’ll try my best,” he said. He seemed sincere and looked like he felt really bad, but as soon as he left, I turned to Dani.
“That’s four days. There’s something about these guys—I don’t trust them. We should keep going, I don’t like it here.”
“Me either, but we need the truck,” she said.
“We should just get on the bus.”