Read Online Leaving Blythe River: A Novel by Catherine Ryan Hyde - Free Book Online

moment that the kick of it might take off the back of his head.
    “Whoa,” Ethan said. “Strong.”
    “Yeah. Kicks like Rebar, huh? The only way to go. Man does not live by wimpy coffee. I’m Sam, by the way.”
    “Oh. Ethan.”
    “Well, you really saved my ass this morning, Ethan. I feel like I can’t say thank you enough times.”
    “How would I put in a good word for you?”
    “You mean with Jone?”
    “Yeah. If I ever met her.”
    “Oh, I don’t know. Just say what you feel. Like ‘Gosh, that Sam is one hell of a fella. Nice guy.’”
    “I barely know you. Why don’t you tell her you’re a nice guy?”
    “Don’t think I haven’t tried. But what good does that do? Every guy’ll tell you he’s a great guy.”
    Ethan wondered briefly if his father thought of himself as a great guy. And would still tell you he was. Probably.
    “So what do you use all these horses and mules for?”
    “Pack.”
    The single word meant nothing to Ethan in that context. He waited, thinking Sam would say more.
    “Pack?”
    “Yeah. You know.”
    “I don’t think I do.”
    “I’m a pack guide. It’s how I make ends meet. People want to go up into those mountains. Want the full-on wilderness experience. But it’s hard hiking. Over thirteen thousand feet of elevation on some of those passes. Takes your breath away, literally. Lot of steep uphill. And not many people want to carry forty, fifty pounds of tents and sleeping bags and supplies up those steep passes, enough to live on out in the wilderness for days. And most don’t know what they’re doing enough to get into the mountains so deep. So I take ’em in on horseback with ponies and mules carrying the supplies. Hey, maybe that’s what I can do to repay the favor. I know it doesn’t seem like much, just standing in the way of those yearlings and waving your arms to stop ’em, but think about it. What were the chances you’d be there at just the right moment? I could go a month sometimes with nobody walking down the road across my driveway. And even that’s in the summer. And there you were. Like my own little miracle to start my day. Not so little, really. Ever been up on that Blythe River Range?”
    “No, sir. Sam.”
    “Prettiest place on God’s earth, and I’m not just saying that. I’ve seen a lot of places. I could take you up there. No charge, but you have to tell your friends about Friendly Sam’s Pack Service.”
    “I don’t have any friends,” Ethan said, effectively stopping the conversation.
    They leaned and sipped in silence, the clouds of steam they blew looking thicker and more dense after gulps of the hot liquid. The sun was up over the mountain now, so it would warm up soon. Might even get up into the fifties as the day wore on.
    “Now why would that be?” Sam asked at last.
    “I have friends back home,” he said. “Just not around here.”
    “How long you been here?”
    “About three weeks.”
    “You go to school in Avery?”
    “Yes, sir. Sam.”
    “I guess three weeks isn’t much time to make new friends.”
    Ethan snorted out a great cloud of steam. “You could give me three years and I couldn’t turn any of those guys into friends.”
    He waited. But Sam said nothing. So Ethan took a great gulp of the dreadful coffee and jumped back into talking, still holding the dog’s collar so Rufus couldn’t duck through the rails of the corral and be trampled to death by a bad-tempered mule named Rebar.
    “They think I’m a joke,” Ethan said. Another silence. “They laugh at me because I’m skinny and pale. Because I’ve lived in the city all my life. Not right to my face. They laugh behind my back, but it’s not like I don’t know. These kids . . . they drive tractors. They break horses. Even the girls. They ride in the roundups and help castrate calves and brand them. They drive their parents’ pickup trucks and mend fences and sling hay around. And they look at me like I’m absolutely useless. And like it’s