Page 15 of Rocky Ride

“Most men are stupid.”

“I agree with that.”

She slammed out the front door of the cabin and Travis had a hard time believing she was here at all. According to the little map of the mountain his Uncle Carson had drawn for him, there were no cabins farther up. All cabins were marked. Huh.

Sunday ran back into the cabin with the first aid kit in her hand. She shed her parka and yanked the cap off her head and long strawberry blonde hair cascaded down past her shoulders. No makeup and she didn’t need any. Beautiful girl with high color in her cheeks. Flashing green eyes.

She removed the hot towel after it soaked up most of the blood and the mess. Dried his leg with a fresh towel. Pulled the torn skin together as neatly as she could. Applied the only antiseptic cream in the kit, and then bandaged his leg up as tightly as she could.

“Good as it gets, buddy.”

Travis let out the breath he was holding. Her working on his leg it was so fuckin painful, it was all he could do to keep from screaming bloody murder.

Sunday fetched the tequila from the kitchen table and poured two shots. “Drink this, buddy. It’ll help you sleep.” She held his head up so he could swallow.

“Thanks.”

“I’ll get the dogs in and watch you for a while. You might have more bleeding. No fuckin stitches to hold you together. I’m not sure what’s going to happen.”

“Me neither,” Travis mumbled.

Sunday opened the back door and called the dogs. Three of them came tearing in. Max and Sarge excited to have a new friend.

Butchie was a chocolate Lab. Friendly and free with her tongue. She licked Travis’s face before he could stop her.

“Lie down, Butchie. I’ll make coffee, Dale.”

“Thanks.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I’m your neighbor.”

I find that hard to believe.

Wild Stallion Ranch.

“Aw Jeeze,” said Virge. He tried to open the back door to go to the barn and the door wouldn’t budge. Blocked with a three-foot snowdrift. “We can’t get out.”

We went out the front door, picked up a shovel off the front porch and shoveled our way to the barn to do the chores.

After the horses were fed and bedded down with extra straw to keep them warm, I went to the garage where Dad kept the old tractor with the snowplow on the front of it. I finally got it going and Virge plowed a pathway to the road.

Billy had breakfast ready when we came into the house, and he was taking a call and busy writing down the first accident report of the day.

“This gonna be another one of them crash days, Billy?”

“Looks like it. Still snowing and we got about six to eight inches overnight. The roads will be a mess until the plows have time to make the rounds.”

“Wonder if Dad’s snowed in up the mountain and he can’t get home,” said Virge.

“Could be,” I said. “He can’t call if there ain’t any service up there.”

“I don’t like it,” said Virge. “Him up there with bears and wolves all by himself. It has a creepy feel to it.”

“I’m not too fond of it myself, Virgie,” I said to my brother. “All I think about is us driving up there and getting him back home.”

“Copy that.” Virge gave me a fist bump.

Sheriff’s Office. Coyote Creek.

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