Page 31 of Nomad

“Okay then. I’ll teach you gin rummy.” When he said nothing, she offered, “Or the chicken dance.”

“I don’t know what the chicken dance is, but I’m pretty sure I’m not interested in learning it.”

“Tastin’ before judgin’,” she said, throwing his words back at him.

They had nothing else to do to pass the time so playing cards was as good as anything.

“Gin rummy it is. Payment for Spanish lessons.”

By mid-afternoon Bud was working on ten common conversational phrases. Cann laughed at her accent, but all in all, he wasn’t a bad teacher.

They ate junk food and enjoyed long periods of companionable silence playing gin rummy.

“It’s not fair that you’re better than I am at the game I taughtyou!” Bud complained.

Cann laughed at her. “It’s just luck. Come on. Next time you’ll get better cards.” She didn’t get better cards, but continued to be vocal about not liking it. “You’re competitive,” he said, like it was a revelation. “Also a sore loser.”

“Am not.”

“Are.”

Maria returned before dinner with bags full of goodies that included a cell phone adaptor for the truck and a couple of changes of clothes for Bud. Tee shirts, jeans, socks, underwear, pajamas. Hiking boots with thick tire tread soles and leather up to the ankles.

“Get your dirty laundry together,” Cann said. “Maria’s going to wash our stuff and bring it back tomorrow.”

“Really?” Bud looked from Cann to Maria and back like she was sure he was lying. The idea of someone else washing her clothes was so alien to her that she was having a hard time picturing it.

Cann looked at her like she was slow. “Yeah. Really.” When she didn’t move, he said, “You need help?”

She shook her head. “No. Just a sec.” She grabbed a plastic bag from the kitchen and shoved everything that she wasn’t wearing into the stash. When she handed it to Maria, she said, “Thank you.”

“You can do better than that,” Cann said.

It took Bud a couple of seconds to understand what he meant. She grinned at Maria. “I mean gracias.”

Maria grinned and nodded her head. “De nada.”

Bud took the top off the shampoo and inhaled. Green apples. “Damn it.”

“What’s the problem?” Cann asked.

“Now I have this great-smelling shampoo and no hot water.”

“I can get you enough hot water so that, when you add cold, you’ll have about eight inches of warm water in that tub in there.”

She blinked at Cann a couple of times before saying, “I’ll take it.” He nodded and set to work pulling out the two big soup pots in the cabinet. “And thank you,” she said a little more softly.

“You’re welcome. You get your bath stuff together. It’ll take a little bit.”

He put more wood on the fire and filled the pots.

“You’re kind of handy. You know that?”

Cann wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or gratitude, but it sounded like it might be a bit of both. “Can be,” he answered with a small measure of masculine pride.

Even though the bath was far from ideal, Bud emerged feeling clean and renewed, with towel dried hair and skin that felt pristine. Cann took one look at her and burst out laughing.

“Don’t blame me,” Bud said. “I’mnot the one who speaks Spanish. All I’ve got to say is that now I understand why Maria kept smiling at me.”

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