Aspens. Ultimately her opportunity to put things right with Gabe had tipped her into coming back. “You ever want more than this?” she asked, elbows resting on the top rail of the dude corral after they’d turned out and fed the stock.
“Maybe,” he said. A broad grin spread across his handsome face.
Kristine squinted at him. “Do not…” she warned him.
“After I’m finished sowing…”
“No, not the wild oats! I know you feel like you want to play the field, but do you have to…” Though she shoved her fingers in her ears and hummed loudly, she still saw his lips move as he continued the sentence. “C’mon. I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you.”
“I could tell by the way you had your fingers in your ears. Real grown up.”
“Dad wants you back in Quincy after you graduate this year.”
“Yeah. And I’ll settle there. But you know I’m no good at the broodmares and starting colts. There’s a reason you did the ag degree, and I’m in business. Between the two of us, he’s got the ranch covered.”
The sounds of the night surrounded them, the chomping of thirty animals on sweet alfalfa, hooves stomping flies away. This was the chorus she’d listened to her whole life.
Gabe broke the silence. “And what’s so bad about running the ranch with your awesome brother?”
“Nothing at all. After work, we’ll go line dancing. It’d be such fun to pick up chicks together.”
“Hey, at least one of us has some luck in that category. We could help each other out. Or more specifically, you could send girls my way, let them know why I’m such a catch.”
“You are a catch. You know that, right?”
“Catch and release is what I am,” he said with uncharacteristic glumness.
“At least you actually have a chance of finding an eligible girl in Quincy. Can you imagine if we did both end up back on the ranch?”
“I could see us double dating,” he said, hopefulness in his voice.
“Yeah, that wouldn’t be weird at all,” she said, needing to change the direction of their conversation. “And pretty soon, the one-screen theater in town might show an independent film.”
“We’re not that far from Reno, you know,” Gabe reminded her.
“Ugh. Gabe. It doesn’t take a genius to spot a goat in a herd of sheep.”
“Exactly! I’ll sow my oats, you go find some goats. Dad will totally understand. Great chat, sis.”
Though Kristine hung her head at the remark, inwardly she was thankful to hear his characteristic glibness return. “For that, you cook tonight, my friend.”
“You know I cook by driving the truck down to the Lodge.”
Kristine wondered if Gloria was back from her trip. She could be at the store getting supplies or having dinner in the café. Maybe she’d run into her by the washing machines. She chided herself for slipping back into such musings. “No. You owe me more than Jorge’s chili dogs. You’re taking me up the mountain for something good in Mammoth.”
Chapter Twelve
Though beat from her all-day hike in from Fish Creek, Gloria’s pace quickened for the final uphill push into the yard at the Lodge. She was exhausted, having spent five nights asserting her dominance over last year’s orphan yearling which could very easily become a problem bear. The first three nights, she’d chased him out of her camp making as much noise as she could. She’d shot him with rubber bullets so he’d associate pain with humans and start looking for food elsewhere. The gangly black bear was already drawn to her food canisters, which told her that he’d been lucky visiting camps the year before. She was fairly pleased with her progress—he had not visited her camp the last two nights. Maybe it wasn’t too late to turn him around. If only she could trust all of his encounters with humans to be consistent.
The ignorant and lazy tourists could very well drive her insane. They were worst in Yosemite. People who covered their food in their cars imagining
“Maybe,” he said. A broad grin spread across his handsome face.
Kristine squinted at him. “Do not…” she warned him.
“After I’m finished sowing…”
“No, not the wild oats! I know you feel like you want to play the field, but do you have to…” Though she shoved her fingers in her ears and hummed loudly, she still saw his lips move as he continued the sentence. “C’mon. I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you.”
“I could tell by the way you had your fingers in your ears. Real grown up.”
“Dad wants you back in Quincy after you graduate this year.”
“Yeah. And I’ll settle there. But you know I’m no good at the broodmares and starting colts. There’s a reason you did the ag degree, and I’m in business. Between the two of us, he’s got the ranch covered.”
The sounds of the night surrounded them, the chomping of thirty animals on sweet alfalfa, hooves stomping flies away. This was the chorus she’d listened to her whole life.
Gabe broke the silence. “And what’s so bad about running the ranch with your awesome brother?”
“Nothing at all. After work, we’ll go line dancing. It’d be such fun to pick up chicks together.”
“Hey, at least one of us has some luck in that category. We could help each other out. Or more specifically, you could send girls my way, let them know why I’m such a catch.”
“You are a catch. You know that, right?”
“Catch and release is what I am,” he said with uncharacteristic glumness.
“At least you actually have a chance of finding an eligible girl in Quincy. Can you imagine if we did both end up back on the ranch?”
“I could see us double dating,” he said, hopefulness in his voice.
“Yeah, that wouldn’t be weird at all,” she said, needing to change the direction of their conversation. “And pretty soon, the one-screen theater in town might show an independent film.”
“We’re not that far from Reno, you know,” Gabe reminded her.
“Ugh. Gabe. It doesn’t take a genius to spot a goat in a herd of sheep.”
“Exactly! I’ll sow my oats, you go find some goats. Dad will totally understand. Great chat, sis.”
Though Kristine hung her head at the remark, inwardly she was thankful to hear his characteristic glibness return. “For that, you cook tonight, my friend.”
“You know I cook by driving the truck down to the Lodge.”
Kristine wondered if Gloria was back from her trip. She could be at the store getting supplies or having dinner in the café. Maybe she’d run into her by the washing machines. She chided herself for slipping back into such musings. “No. You owe me more than Jorge’s chili dogs. You’re taking me up the mountain for something good in Mammoth.”
Chapter Twelve
Though beat from her all-day hike in from Fish Creek, Gloria’s pace quickened for the final uphill push into the yard at the Lodge. She was exhausted, having spent five nights asserting her dominance over last year’s orphan yearling which could very easily become a problem bear. The first three nights, she’d chased him out of her camp making as much noise as she could. She’d shot him with rubber bullets so he’d associate pain with humans and start looking for food elsewhere. The gangly black bear was already drawn to her food canisters, which told her that he’d been lucky visiting camps the year before. She was fairly pleased with her progress—he had not visited her camp the last two nights. Maybe it wasn’t too late to turn him around. If only she could trust all of his encounters with humans to be consistent.
The ignorant and lazy tourists could very well drive her insane. They were worst in Yosemite. People who covered their food in their cars imagining
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