Read Online High Country : A Novel by Willard Wyman - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Willard Wyman
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isn’t kicking.”
“Crawl a tad further. Undo them cinches. She might roll free
without the saddle.”
Ty pushed across Cottontail’s belly to reach the latigos, fearing her hooves but having no other choice.
The mule made no move as Ty struggled with the swollen leather. He got the latigos free and inched himself back, joined Fenton to pull Cottontail’s lead, stretching her head back across her body to make her fight them. She kicked up, struggled against them and found she was free of the saddle. She fought it too, fought the packs and the creek bed and came up, testing her legs, scrambling up the bank to the safety of the trail, shaking and blowing.
“Get Loco.” Fenton tied Cottontail to a lodgepole and slid back into the creek. “I’ll snag her packs. They’ll be full of water.”
Ty found Loco stopped where the walkway began, unwilling to go farther. He crossed through the mud to head him off, caught the frayed lead, and led him back, Loco nosing at the trail now, more interested in it than the packs on his back. He nosed at Cottontail too, rubbed his neck on her rump, so happy to see her he calmed.
“No damage.” Fenton’s voice rose above the stream. He had the saddle and packs across the creek. “But I don’t like the looks of them clouds.” Ty saw darkness to the south, a scrim already crossing the moon. “Bring her over. Let’s saddle and scoot. Gotta get those folks under canvas.”
Ty didn’t know what to do with Loco, but the big mule seemed so happy rubbing at Cottontail he left him there, leading Cottontail back toward to the bridge, which she bolted across.
“She don’t want to go in the creek again,” Fenton said. “Another story with Loco, unless he gets lonely. Let’s stay out of sight while we saddle.”
Ty followed Fenton up the trail with Cottontail and began brushing debris from her back. Lightning came suddenly, followed by deep thunder.
“It does like to rain when we camp at White River.” Fenton watched Ty saddle. “Tents are on them first two mules.” He spoke as though he’d resolved something. “Let’s get Loco over that bridge. I’ll slip on into camp before this rain.You pack up and follow.”
“I don’t know where to go.” Ty looked at him across Cottontail. “I never been there ...I never been here.”
“You can track, can’t you?” Fenton checked Cottontail’s cinch.
“Not in the dark, I can’t.”
“Won’t be dark long. I’d worry more about the rain washin’ them tracks out. Let’s get Loco. Bet he’s lonely.”
He was right about that. Loco was so anxious to get to Cottontail he hardly noticed the bridge.
Fenton tied him near the packs, tightened Easter’s cinch, and mounted. “Your Loco mule might civilize after all.”
“I don’t know where to go.” Ty looked at the packs and then at Fenton. “Without the moon I won’t see a track at all.”
“No turnoffs before the South Fork. Hit the big river, turn up it four miles. Be light by then. Look for tracks to the river. Good ford. Cross and climb them benches. You’re in camp.” Fenton started Easter up the trail. “I’ll have coffee.”
“Rain could wash those tracks away!” It came to Ty why Spec was wary of packing. He felt a little sick.
Fenton stood down and got something from his saddlebag. He came back and handed Ty some strips of jerked elk. Lightning flashed, thunder close behind.
“Sugar here ain’t carrying any tents.” Fenton untied his last mule. “I’ll leave her. Ride up the big river a ways and then put Sugar and Turkey out in front. They’ll bring you in.”
“How will they know?” It made no sense to Ty.
“Turkey knows where there’s grain, and Sugar goes for White River like a homing pigeon. Smart mule and a greedy horse’ll bring you in every time.”
Fenton watched Ty chew as lightning flashed again.
“Sometimes in these mountains,” he said, his voice almost tender, “you find yourself learnin’ more than you got time to consider.”
Ty bit
“Crawl a tad further. Undo them cinches. She might roll free
without the saddle.”
Ty pushed across Cottontail’s belly to reach the latigos, fearing her hooves but having no other choice.
The mule made no move as Ty struggled with the swollen leather. He got the latigos free and inched himself back, joined Fenton to pull Cottontail’s lead, stretching her head back across her body to make her fight them. She kicked up, struggled against them and found she was free of the saddle. She fought it too, fought the packs and the creek bed and came up, testing her legs, scrambling up the bank to the safety of the trail, shaking and blowing.
“Get Loco.” Fenton tied Cottontail to a lodgepole and slid back into the creek. “I’ll snag her packs. They’ll be full of water.”
Ty found Loco stopped where the walkway began, unwilling to go farther. He crossed through the mud to head him off, caught the frayed lead, and led him back, Loco nosing at the trail now, more interested in it than the packs on his back. He nosed at Cottontail too, rubbed his neck on her rump, so happy to see her he calmed.
“No damage.” Fenton’s voice rose above the stream. He had the saddle and packs across the creek. “But I don’t like the looks of them clouds.” Ty saw darkness to the south, a scrim already crossing the moon. “Bring her over. Let’s saddle and scoot. Gotta get those folks under canvas.”
Ty didn’t know what to do with Loco, but the big mule seemed so happy rubbing at Cottontail he left him there, leading Cottontail back toward to the bridge, which she bolted across.
“She don’t want to go in the creek again,” Fenton said. “Another story with Loco, unless he gets lonely. Let’s stay out of sight while we saddle.”
Ty followed Fenton up the trail with Cottontail and began brushing debris from her back. Lightning came suddenly, followed by deep thunder.
“It does like to rain when we camp at White River.” Fenton watched Ty saddle. “Tents are on them first two mules.” He spoke as though he’d resolved something. “Let’s get Loco over that bridge. I’ll slip on into camp before this rain.You pack up and follow.”
“I don’t know where to go.” Ty looked at him across Cottontail. “I never been there ...I never been here.”
“You can track, can’t you?” Fenton checked Cottontail’s cinch.
“Not in the dark, I can’t.”
“Won’t be dark long. I’d worry more about the rain washin’ them tracks out. Let’s get Loco. Bet he’s lonely.”
He was right about that. Loco was so anxious to get to Cottontail he hardly noticed the bridge.
Fenton tied him near the packs, tightened Easter’s cinch, and mounted. “Your Loco mule might civilize after all.”
“I don’t know where to go.” Ty looked at the packs and then at Fenton. “Without the moon I won’t see a track at all.”
“No turnoffs before the South Fork. Hit the big river, turn up it four miles. Be light by then. Look for tracks to the river. Good ford. Cross and climb them benches. You’re in camp.” Fenton started Easter up the trail. “I’ll have coffee.”
“Rain could wash those tracks away!” It came to Ty why Spec was wary of packing. He felt a little sick.
Fenton stood down and got something from his saddlebag. He came back and handed Ty some strips of jerked elk. Lightning flashed, thunder close behind.
“Sugar here ain’t carrying any tents.” Fenton untied his last mule. “I’ll leave her. Ride up the big river a ways and then put Sugar and Turkey out in front. They’ll bring you in.”
“How will they know?” It made no sense to Ty.
“Turkey knows where there’s grain, and Sugar goes for White River like a homing pigeon. Smart mule and a greedy horse’ll bring you in every time.”
Fenton watched Ty chew as lightning flashed again.
“Sometimes in these mountains,” he said, his voice almost tender, “you find yourself learnin’ more than you got time to consider.”
Ty bit
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