the thirsty
cattle and swung himself up onto the
trough. The inch or so of standing water
was barely enough to wet his boots. He got
busy with the wrench, working the valve
until the water came out grudgingly,
flowing just a little faster.
There still wasn’t enough. The pipeline
was only delivering maybe five, ten,
gallons per minute—far less than he
needed to keep the trough full. Enough for
today, sure. Maybe even enough to get the
herd through the rest of the summer, but the
well was running on empty. The sluggish
trickle from the pump should have flowed
hard and fast.
Behind him, he heard Rose slide out of
the truck and come over to lean on the
railing. Watching.
“Empty?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said curtly. This wasn’t a
conversation he wanted to have right now.
“You checked the pump?”
Better to have a broken pipe or a
clogged pump than the truth. He’d brought
three drillers out to the ranch, and they’d
all said the same thing. There hadn’t been
enough rainfall this last winter, and the
aquifer was done. His ranch had drained it
dry. Sure, the change hadn’t happened
overnight, but the slow, steady suck—
decades of overuse—still spelled the end.
“Pump’s sucking air.” He gave the valve
one last, hard twist. It wasn’t going to help,
but it made him feel better. “Water level’s
just too damn low.”
“Oh.” She chewed on her lower lip,
running through an unseen mental checklist.
“You had someone out here to take a
look?”
“I’m working on it,” he said tightly.
“Right now, I’ll call it in. One of the hands
can bring the water truck out here and fill
her up.”
Maybe, if he gave her a little more time,
she’d see the light. Maybe she’d decide to
sell all on her own.
Hell. He was so screwed, it wasn’t even
funny.
Going back to the truck, he made the
call. As he hung up, however, tossing the
cell onto the front seat of the truck, he
realized fate wasn’t finished with him yet.
The truck had a flat. Punctured tires were
an occupational hazard out here. They
weren’t going anywhere until he’d changed
the tire, because he wasn’t taking the rough
ranch roads on a bare rim. He reached for
the jack in the pickup bed.
Rose looked at him. “You want a hand
with that?”
“No, it’s a one-person job,” he
muttered. Stripping off his shirt, he hung
his hat on the side mirror, grabbed a
wrench, and lowered himself down,
sliding under the truck to free the spare.
Rose’s bare legs below her shorts
moved in and out of his field of vision. He
forced himself to focus on the task at hand.
When he got the spare free, he slid it
out, and her legs moved away. Somewhere
close by, thunder rumbled, and the cattle
called restlessly.
“We’re going to have rain,” he said, but
there was no response. It figured. When he
wanted her far away from him, she was
right there. When he wanted her to stick
close by, she’d gone off. Sliding out from
beneath the truck, he sat up and spotted the
rain sweeping down from the hill.
The gray sheet of rain was headed right
toward them, and he saw Rose watching it
from a little distance away.
She laughed, delighted, as if he’d
arranged the downpour just for her. “Look,
Cabe! Rain!” She was fairly dancing in
anticipation of getting thoroughly soaked.
“That’s rain, all right,” he agreed. And
he would have enjoyed watching her joy
except he realized that a heavy downpour
was going to turn the dirt road into shit if it
stuck around. Getting the tire fixed quickly
was suddenly paramount. “We’ve got to
get on the road if we don’t want to get
mired out here.”
“You’re no fun,” she snorted, dancing
away from him.
True enough. Since one of them had to
be practical, he dropped to his knees by
the bad tire, working the jack underneath
the truck. Rose had her face turned toward
the approaching rain. Shaking his head, he
worked
cattle and swung himself up onto the
trough. The inch or so of standing water
was barely enough to wet his boots. He got
busy with the wrench, working the valve
until the water came out grudgingly,
flowing just a little faster.
There still wasn’t enough. The pipeline
was only delivering maybe five, ten,
gallons per minute—far less than he
needed to keep the trough full. Enough for
today, sure. Maybe even enough to get the
herd through the rest of the summer, but the
well was running on empty. The sluggish
trickle from the pump should have flowed
hard and fast.
Behind him, he heard Rose slide out of
the truck and come over to lean on the
railing. Watching.
“Empty?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said curtly. This wasn’t a
conversation he wanted to have right now.
“You checked the pump?”
Better to have a broken pipe or a
clogged pump than the truth. He’d brought
three drillers out to the ranch, and they’d
all said the same thing. There hadn’t been
enough rainfall this last winter, and the
aquifer was done. His ranch had drained it
dry. Sure, the change hadn’t happened
overnight, but the slow, steady suck—
decades of overuse—still spelled the end.
“Pump’s sucking air.” He gave the valve
one last, hard twist. It wasn’t going to help,
but it made him feel better. “Water level’s
just too damn low.”
“Oh.” She chewed on her lower lip,
running through an unseen mental checklist.
“You had someone out here to take a
look?”
“I’m working on it,” he said tightly.
“Right now, I’ll call it in. One of the hands
can bring the water truck out here and fill
her up.”
Maybe, if he gave her a little more time,
she’d see the light. Maybe she’d decide to
sell all on her own.
Hell. He was so screwed, it wasn’t even
funny.
Going back to the truck, he made the
call. As he hung up, however, tossing the
cell onto the front seat of the truck, he
realized fate wasn’t finished with him yet.
The truck had a flat. Punctured tires were
an occupational hazard out here. They
weren’t going anywhere until he’d changed
the tire, because he wasn’t taking the rough
ranch roads on a bare rim. He reached for
the jack in the pickup bed.
Rose looked at him. “You want a hand
with that?”
“No, it’s a one-person job,” he
muttered. Stripping off his shirt, he hung
his hat on the side mirror, grabbed a
wrench, and lowered himself down,
sliding under the truck to free the spare.
Rose’s bare legs below her shorts
moved in and out of his field of vision. He
forced himself to focus on the task at hand.
When he got the spare free, he slid it
out, and her legs moved away. Somewhere
close by, thunder rumbled, and the cattle
called restlessly.
“We’re going to have rain,” he said, but
there was no response. It figured. When he
wanted her far away from him, she was
right there. When he wanted her to stick
close by, she’d gone off. Sliding out from
beneath the truck, he sat up and spotted the
rain sweeping down from the hill.
The gray sheet of rain was headed right
toward them, and he saw Rose watching it
from a little distance away.
She laughed, delighted, as if he’d
arranged the downpour just for her. “Look,
Cabe! Rain!” She was fairly dancing in
anticipation of getting thoroughly soaked.
“That’s rain, all right,” he agreed. And
he would have enjoyed watching her joy
except he realized that a heavy downpour
was going to turn the dirt road into shit if it
stuck around. Getting the tire fixed quickly
was suddenly paramount. “We’ve got to
get on the road if we don’t want to get
mired out here.”
“You’re no fun,” she snorted, dancing
away from him.
True enough. Since one of them had to
be practical, he dropped to his knees by
the bad tire, working the jack underneath
the truck. Rose had her face turned toward
the approaching rain. Shaking his head, he
worked
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