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.”
“How are we going to get back into town? It’s miles. We don’t even have enough money for three tickets. We’ve got to work for at least a couple of days.”
“You just don’t want to leave the truck—you’re being stubborn.” I felt trapped, panicked.
“Screw you, Jess. You’re just a kid, you don’t know—”
“But, Dani, this doesn’t feel right.”
“Like you have ESP.”
“No,” I said, frustrated. “It just doesn’t.”
“I feel the same way,” Courtney said.
Dani looked furious. She hated it when we banded against her. She dug up a few more shovelfuls of dirt for a posthole, her biceps bunching and flexing as she pushed the shovel into the hard ground, using her foot to force it deeper. We also went back to work, but we were waiting for her to say something.
“We’ll stay until we have a little more money,” she finally said. “We also need it for ID. It might be even harder to get jobs in Vancouver. We have to earn what we can now. If the truck isn’t fixed by Friday, we’ll try to sell it to the guys.”
I didn’t like it but there was nothing else I could say. Dani had made up her mind.
* * *
After we were done in the fields, we walked the country road back to our campsite, tried to clean our tired aching bodies in the creek. Most of the food in the cooler had already spoiled, so we ate the last of the jerky, some apples, and a sandwich Courtney had found in a lunch box in the barn. We’d filled up our water bottles at the farm but only had enough for the night. An hour later the boys came back to our campsite with some peanut butter sandwiches, granola bars, and fruit.
“Raided our parents’ cupboards,” Gavin said with a laugh.
“We’ll pay you back,” I said. I didn’t want to owe them anything, but we were starving.
“Nah, they’ll never notice anything’s gone.” He patted his stomach. “We eat like horses.”
While we ate, the boys talked. Gavin was nineteen, his brother two years older. They were both still living at home, to help their parents out.
“Not for too much longer, though,” Brian said. “How old are you girls anyway?”
Dani said, “I’m eighteen,” adding a few months. She pointed to us. “They’re seventeen and fifteen.” Courtney wouldn’t be seventeen until February. My birthday was the next day, I remembered with a jolt.
“Brave hitting the road all by yourself,” Gavin
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.”
“How are we going to get back into town? It’s miles. We don’t even have enough money for three tickets. We’ve got to work for at least a couple of days.”
“You just don’t want to leave the truck—you’re being stubborn.” I felt trapped, panicked.
“Screw you, Jess. You’re just a kid, you don’t know—”
“But, Dani, this doesn’t feel right.”
“Like you have ESP.”
“No,” I said, frustrated. “It just doesn’t.”
“I feel the same way,” Courtney said.
Dani looked furious. She hated it when we banded against her. She dug up a few more shovelfuls of dirt for a posthole, her biceps bunching and flexing as she pushed the shovel into the hard ground, using her foot to force it deeper. We also went back to work, but we were waiting for her to say something.
“We’ll stay until we have a little more money,” she finally said. “We also need it for ID. It might be even harder to get jobs in Vancouver. We have to earn what we can now. If the truck isn’t fixed by Friday, we’ll try to sell it to the guys.”
I didn’t like it but there was nothing else I could say. Dani had made up her mind.
* * *
After we were done in the fields, we walked the country road back to our campsite, tried to clean our tired aching bodies in the creek. Most of the food in the cooler had already spoiled, so we ate the last of the jerky, some apples, and a sandwich Courtney had found in a lunch box in the barn. We’d filled up our water bottles at the farm but only had enough for the night. An hour later the boys came back to our campsite with some peanut butter sandwiches, granola bars, and fruit.
“Raided our parents’ cupboards,” Gavin said with a laugh.
“We’ll pay you back,” I said. I didn’t want to owe them anything, but we were starving.
“Nah, they’ll never notice anything’s gone.” He patted his stomach. “We eat like horses.”
While we ate, the boys talked. Gavin was nineteen, his brother two years older. They were both still living at home, to help their parents out.
“Not for too much longer, though,” Brian said. “How old are you girls anyway?”
Dani said, “I’m eighteen,” adding a few months. She pointed to us. “They’re seventeen and fifteen.” Courtney wouldn’t be seventeen until February. My birthday was the next day, I remembered with a jolt.
“Brave hitting the road all by yourself,” Gavin
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