Sowing on the Mountain

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The drive to Pinedale seemed endless. Before heading back to Big Sandy, she was going to a meeting at the Game and Fish office, about the poison thing. She drove to the town park and found shade between a couple big cottonwoods that would cover the Saab for a couple hours, so poor Gris wouldn't bake.

She'd found a nearly-full bottle of amoxicillin in the med cab at Ginger's, a couple years old so it wouldn't be missed. She looked it up in the medical dictionary and decided it was the right stuff. So she snarfed it. She grabbed her water bottle and gulped down a capsule before heading to the G & F office. One of the pinholes had started burping pus and another was seriously red. She'd try a hot compress once she got to the shack. She also packed a bottle of ibuprofen for her period— that was the only thing that helped.

The meeting seemed endless and was mostly a waste of time. Slim had told her more about the investigation before she left Jackson, that the autopsy found 1080 in Trapper's stomach, in the huskies, and in the bear meat and liver, with a warning not to pass it on to Boswick or Headley. Harv was there. He was supposed to catch Jet on his way out and tell him what the deal was. If she saw anything suspicious, she should drive to the Boulder Store and use the phone, and not risk a radio transmission. They repeated the same stuff as she heard last week, with a warning not to pass it on to Sooz or Deirdre or the people at the Lodge. They could have summed it up in one sentence: Keep your eyes open and your mouth shut.

It was midafternoon when she left town. Gris kept shifting on the back seat and heaving big sighs, cranky at being left so long in the car. Males were so goddam touchy. When Slim came to the condo, he'd been really weird and careful at first. She noticed that he looked at her hand to see if the ring was still on her finger. It was. He relaxed a bit. The movie had gone okay— Cool Hand Luke was about as anti-establishment classic as anything she'd ever seen. Now she had some good lines to toss back at Harv. Telling Slim she didn't want him to come up to the yurt was awkward, but she blamed it on herself and hugged him hard and they kissed. That helped. She didn't want him to see her shoulder.

As she drove up the Opening and turned off to the shack, she felt like there were eyes watching from the woods. Paranoid. It was a sunny afternoon and the aspen leaves chittered in the breeze and the pines smelled piney. On the door was a note from Sooz asking if she could stay there one night a week or so. No problem. If she won't shut up, I'll bonk her with the frypan.

God, it was good to be here, in this small place she had cleansed and reclaimed, with the entire landscape of mountains rising above, beauty witnessed, and beauty yet to be discovered.

She decided to get up early and head out for the high country. This time she was supposed to start with Deep Lake, clean up messy camps, look into a complaint about NOLS groups smearing their shit on boulders, spend two nights at Big Sandy, and help load a pack string from the lodge with trash before coming back down. A full dance card, for sure.

Harv showed up around sunset to unload his horses, and came up to the shack. She offered him a diet Coke from the propane refrigerator, which she'd got working.

"Okay if I store some food in it?" he asked. "Not much space in the one at Dutch Jose."

She said it was okay, but started to worry about people taking over her space: Sooz wanted to stay, Harv wanted to keep his food. What next?

"By the way, I'm gonna ride that Muddy country and look for a dead bear. Take some diesel and burn it."

"Good idea. That 1080 is the gift that keeps on killing."

He finished his Coke.

"Luke!" she said. "Any man don't bring back his empty pop bottle spends a night in the box." His face lit up. "Slim and I watched it," she said. "Great!"

"Picking it up here, Boss."