Wayward

CHAPTER SIX

The figure emerged from the darkness. He saw a spark, partially concealed behind a hand. A tendril of smoke danced from the tiny flare of cigarette light.

"Relax, white boy," came the thrumming old voice. They stared at one another, and Jim tried to decide what to say. His eyes were still adjusting to the dark. The raindrops splashed into the muddy puddles that were forming outside. They exploded against the rocks like tiny, ineffectual artillery shells.

The man was a native. He wore his long grey hair in a braid, fastened with thin cuts of fabric. He rolled up a dark, denim sleeve and extended a hand. His eyes were wary, but there was kindness in them. Jim shook his hand. The skin felt of worn leather.

"Who are you?"

"Red Hudson."

Red's skin was dotted with small pockmarks and gray stubble. His jacket was brown canvas. His boots featured a spiraling, woven-in pattern. Jim had never met a native before. His uncle talked with them sometimes. He rented the land from them.

"I'm Jim."

"Jim?"

"That's right."

"You live around here?"

"No sir."

"Don't call me sir." Red craned his neck outside their shelter. "Looks like we'll be here awhile," he said. "We ought to bring the horse in. Build a fire."

"Right, okay."

Jim tugged at Tarzan's reins and looked for somewhere to tie the horse.

"Here," Red offered. He shuffled through a rucksack. "From my tent." He stabbed a metal stake into the dirt. Then he brought down his heel, plunging it further into the ground. He looped the rein around the hook at the top of the stake. Then Red clawed into the dirt. He jerked his head towards the horse.

"He won't run will he?"

"Not unless he's spooked."

"Come on, then." Red continued digging a small pit. "Hand me some of those larger rocks, will you?"

"Yes si - I mean, sure."

Red showed Jim where to put the rocks. They made a small circle around the rim of the hole he had dug with his hands. Before he was asked, Jim brought kindling. Pete had taught him. Dry foliage. Sticks, leaves and things like that. He walked deeper into the pass, and snapped off some branches from the withering trees that grew along the rock walls. He placed them in a pile at Red's feet. Red smiled.

"Smart boy."

"How will you start it? Cracking stones together?"

Red grinned and stacked up the branches in his makeshift fire pit. He spread the kindling around each of the branches. He flicked open a zippo lighter and held it steady over the kindling. Jim sat cross legged and watched as Red pulled a canteen from his boot and swished liquid around in his mouth. Soon, the fire illuminate the cavernous walls.

A strong wind came through the pass, but the stones surrounding the fire did their job. Red sat on a rock next to the fire pit. His brown eyes looked young and bright in the reflection of the flame. He took another swig from the canteen - a dented silver container with a twist off top - and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. He tapped a cigarette loose from the pack, lit it in the fire, clenched it between his teeth and took a drag as he picked at a sticker in his boot.

"Hrmm," he grunted. He extended the pack of cigarettes across the fire. Jim stared at it. One cigarette was poked out from the rest, daring him to grab it.