Page 36 of Saddles

“I’m sorry I’m not much help. I didn’t want to start digging through your stuff.” Her eyes follow me as I stomp the caked snow from my boots and hang up my coat.

“I don’t care if you do. None of it’s important.” I toss a log in the fire and check the water.

It’s just about boiling.

“Alright, you gotta hop up though.” I gesture at the bed. “Most of the grub is stored under there.”

“Oh, shit.” She tosses the covers back and scrambles out of the way.

Lifting the mattress reveals the storage area full of canned goods and totes, all packed with MRE’s and snacks.

Along with a couple of bottles of whiskey.

Priorities.

Popping the top on one of the crates, I grab a hold of two different pouches. “Okay, looks like spaghetti with meat sauce, or chicken parmesan.”

“I love chicken parm. There’s this place in Missoula called Chino’s. It’s the absolute best.” She takes the packet when I hand it to her, then flips it around to read the back.

My stomach rolls. I’m suddenly not hungry at all.

That was Sarah’s favorite restaurant.

I feel like I’ve been sucker punched.

April squints then sighs. “I usually have glasses to read. I’ve never had it from a bag. What am I supposed to do?”

“Well, I kinda do it redneck style.” I need to stop thinking about Sarah.

But I can’t.

I run through the steps to add the water to the pouch, then toss some instant noodles into a bowl.

When I slide the heated entree over the ramen, she smiles at me like she just won the lottery.

“That looks amazing! I might just stock up on instant food.” Giggling, she takes her dish and sits cross-legged on the bed.

“I’d say you’re easily impressed, frosty. It isn’t anything like Chino’s.” I twirl some spaghetti onto my plastic fork and take a bite.

Definitely not as delicious.

She wipes the corner of her mouth with her finger, then licks the sauce from the tip. “I think this last week has taught me how to appreciate the little things more.” She gestures with her bowl. “This tastes like heaven.” Her hand waves in a broad sweep of the room. “And this is paradise.”

That makes me chuckle. This is a hellhole, not salvation.

“By those standards, that makes me a decent guy.” Balling up my garbage, I hold my palm out for hers, careful not to touch her, then toss them into a bag in the corner.

Her mouth twists again, and she looks up at me as if for the first time. “Yea, it does.”

“Huh,” I scoff. “Well, you did say you usually need glasses.”

“Funny.” Her lips turn up in a wry smile. “Seriously though, I’d be dead if it wasn’t for you.”

“That doesn't make me a saint,” I grumble. She has no idea what a shitty human I really am. “I’m gonna go check on the horse before it’s too dark.” I grab two empty water jugs to take with me.

“There’s an extra toothbrush in the cabinet next to the tub.”

Biting wind breaks me from the memories of Sarah.

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