Read Online Slickrock (Gail McCarthy Mystery) by Laura Crum - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Laura Crum
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corral fence, talking to Ted.
The pack station was much quieter this morning, most of the parties having gone in on the weekend. Ted's crew was saddling a few horses; I didn't see any pack rigs in evidence.
Ted himself looked wide awake as usual; I heard him tell Lonny that he would be packing Dan Jacobi in himself.
I made a mental note to stay away from Huckleberry Lake, and smiled at the two men. "Morning," I said.
Lonny grinned. "So, are you ready?"
"As ready as I'll ever be."
He slapped my shoulder. "You'll do just fine."
"The horses look good," I said, running my eyes over my two happily munching equines.
"You bet. You go on in and have some coffee and breakfast and I'll saddle and pack 'em for you."
I started to protest and shut my mouth. I would be leaving soon enough. Why argue with Lonny now? "Come on in and have a cup of coffee with me first," I said instead. "Let these guys finish eating."
"All right."
We trooped down to the cowboy room, Ted in our wake. So much for a few romantic moments together before I left. Instead I had breakfast with virtually the whole crew; the cowboy room bubbled with laughter and jokes.
Ted was telling Lonny about the horses Dan Jacobi had brought with him. I listened with half an ear.
"Best-looking gray gelding you ever saw in your life. Big and strong and pretty-headed. I told him he was crazy to take that ten-thousand-dollar horse up here in the rocks. Take one of my horses, instead, I told him. But he just says, 'That's what I own 'em for.' " Ted snorted. "I'd say he owns 'em to sell 'em, and there's no use crippling 'em up. But him and those two boys of his are riding those three fancy geldings to Huckleberry Lake."
Lonny shrugged. Ted had made the same point to me-I ought to ride his horses and leave my flatland ponies at home. Lonny didn't agree.
"I like riding my own horses. Maybe Dan does, too." Lonny grinned at Ted. "So you make a little less money."
Ted's turn to shrug.
I worked my way through a plate of French toast, more or less forcing myself to eat despite my chattering nerves. My mind flipped constantly from item to item-had I brought enough dog food, would I wish I had a heavier jacket, did I have enough painkiller in the vet kit?
Horse talk drifted past me; I barely heard it. Soon now, I would be on my own. Lonny got up and poured me another cup of coffee. ''I'll go get your horses ready."
"I'll go with you."
I stood up, carrying my coffee, and followed him out the door. Cold, clean early-morning air washed over me; the ridge line glowed in the pale gold sunlight. The Sierra Nevada, the range of light.
Lonny was catching Gunner and Plumber; I began ferrying my gear up from my truck. I'd packed the panniers yesterday, weighed them to be sure they were even, and organized my top load. Packing Plumber up this morning would be a relatively simple process.
I lugged my saddle up to the corrals, wondering yet again if I was making a mistake. The heavy roping saddle was familiar and comfortable, both to me and Gunner, but it weighed much more than necessary. Built to tow six-hundred-pound steers around, the saddle was certainly nothing a long-distance endurance rider would choose. But I reckoned the comfort factor was most important, and I wasn't planning on any really long rides. Twenty miles was the most I intended to cover in a day.
Lonny put the pack rig on Plumber while I saddled Gunner. Working as a team, we lifted the pack bags onto the forks, set the top load in place, and covered the whole deal with a plastic tarp. Lonny watched as I lashed the tarp in place, using the diamond hitch and the trucker's knots he'd taught me.
Plumber pinned his ears crossly when I cinched everything tight; like most horses, he disliked that part.
Almost ready now. I tied my saddlebags to the back of my saddle, let the dog out of the camper, locked the truck, and handed my keys to Lonny.
"I should be back two weeks from today," I told him. "You know my
The pack station was much quieter this morning, most of the parties having gone in on the weekend. Ted's crew was saddling a few horses; I didn't see any pack rigs in evidence.
Ted himself looked wide awake as usual; I heard him tell Lonny that he would be packing Dan Jacobi in himself.
I made a mental note to stay away from Huckleberry Lake, and smiled at the two men. "Morning," I said.
Lonny grinned. "So, are you ready?"
"As ready as I'll ever be."
He slapped my shoulder. "You'll do just fine."
"The horses look good," I said, running my eyes over my two happily munching equines.
"You bet. You go on in and have some coffee and breakfast and I'll saddle and pack 'em for you."
I started to protest and shut my mouth. I would be leaving soon enough. Why argue with Lonny now? "Come on in and have a cup of coffee with me first," I said instead. "Let these guys finish eating."
"All right."
We trooped down to the cowboy room, Ted in our wake. So much for a few romantic moments together before I left. Instead I had breakfast with virtually the whole crew; the cowboy room bubbled with laughter and jokes.
Ted was telling Lonny about the horses Dan Jacobi had brought with him. I listened with half an ear.
"Best-looking gray gelding you ever saw in your life. Big and strong and pretty-headed. I told him he was crazy to take that ten-thousand-dollar horse up here in the rocks. Take one of my horses, instead, I told him. But he just says, 'That's what I own 'em for.' " Ted snorted. "I'd say he owns 'em to sell 'em, and there's no use crippling 'em up. But him and those two boys of his are riding those three fancy geldings to Huckleberry Lake."
Lonny shrugged. Ted had made the same point to me-I ought to ride his horses and leave my flatland ponies at home. Lonny didn't agree.
"I like riding my own horses. Maybe Dan does, too." Lonny grinned at Ted. "So you make a little less money."
Ted's turn to shrug.
I worked my way through a plate of French toast, more or less forcing myself to eat despite my chattering nerves. My mind flipped constantly from item to item-had I brought enough dog food, would I wish I had a heavier jacket, did I have enough painkiller in the vet kit?
Horse talk drifted past me; I barely heard it. Soon now, I would be on my own. Lonny got up and poured me another cup of coffee. ''I'll go get your horses ready."
"I'll go with you."
I stood up, carrying my coffee, and followed him out the door. Cold, clean early-morning air washed over me; the ridge line glowed in the pale gold sunlight. The Sierra Nevada, the range of light.
Lonny was catching Gunner and Plumber; I began ferrying my gear up from my truck. I'd packed the panniers yesterday, weighed them to be sure they were even, and organized my top load. Packing Plumber up this morning would be a relatively simple process.
I lugged my saddle up to the corrals, wondering yet again if I was making a mistake. The heavy roping saddle was familiar and comfortable, both to me and Gunner, but it weighed much more than necessary. Built to tow six-hundred-pound steers around, the saddle was certainly nothing a long-distance endurance rider would choose. But I reckoned the comfort factor was most important, and I wasn't planning on any really long rides. Twenty miles was the most I intended to cover in a day.
Lonny put the pack rig on Plumber while I saddled Gunner. Working as a team, we lifted the pack bags onto the forks, set the top load in place, and covered the whole deal with a plastic tarp. Lonny watched as I lashed the tarp in place, using the diamond hitch and the trucker's knots he'd taught me.
Plumber pinned his ears crossly when I cinched everything tight; like most horses, he disliked that part.
Almost ready now. I tied my saddlebags to the back of my saddle, let the dog out of the camper, locked the truck, and handed my keys to Lonny.
"I should be back two weeks from today," I told him. "You know my