It’s uncomfortably silent for several seconds, and I’m not sure if it’s because they know I’m full of shit or if they’re just surprised.
“Wow,” Sheila finally says, “I’m so sorry to hear about your grandpa.”
“You’re sure a brave young lady,” Mary says while the other woman pats my back.
It wasn’t really my intent to get their sympathy, but it feels kind of nice all the same. I look back up, giving a little shrug. “Thanks.”
“Feel free to hang out with us any time,” Sheila says.
“I might take you up on that.”
Mary glances at her watch. “Oh, the presentation starts in ten minutes.”
“What presentation?” I ask.
“Outside at the amphitheater,” Sheila says. “There are two parts, I think. The history of Phantom Ranch and canyon wildlife. You coming?”
While that does sound interesting, I’ve got one cigarette left and I’m thinking a smoke sounds way better. Plus, I’ve got this extra credit poem I need to work on for English. “I don’t know. I’m thinking I might turn in early.”
“Okay,” Mary says with a sympathetic smile. “See you tomorrow, then.”
While my three new friends set off for the amphitheater, I head back toward the mule pens, where no one’s likely to be hanging around. It’s dark by now, but the mostly full moon and the stars give off enough light for me to make my way along the trail. I cross back over the creek, following the sweet scent of hay. I find the mules the way we left them earlier today, dozing in groups or munching on hay. I scan the pen for Dixie, finding her in one of the dozing groups.
“Hey, Dixie!” I say. She’s shorter than most of the other mules but has the biggest ears of all of them. Right now, they’re flopping way out to the side. I call to her again, but she doesn’t pay any attention to me. Now that I think about it, I’m probably just another human to her. Just one of the many who have sat on her back. Oh well. I turn away from the pen, finding a large rock nearby to sit on instead.
After double-checking to make sure I’m alone, I pull the cigarette and lighter from my hoodie pocket. The first drag is always the best. Scooting back on the rock, I draw up my knees and tilt my chin toward the night sky. You’d think the stars would be dimmer way down here, but it’s just the opposite. They’re a hundred times brighter than back home, and the Milky Way looks like a ginormous, sparkling river stretching across the blackness. A sense of peace settles inside me. It’s been forever since I sat outside, just looking up at the stars.
I’m still lost in thought when I hear the quiet shuffle of footsteps in the distance. I stub out my cigarette on the rock and use the heel of my shoe to dig a hole and bury it. Scrambling back to the fence, I pretend to be watching the mules as the footsteps continue to grow closer.
“K. J.?”
I turn to face my cousin, who’s stopped in her tracks about ten feet away. “What are you doing out here?” I figured she’d be all about that nature program they’re having.
She shoves her hands in the pocket of her hoodie and shrugs. “Nothing. Just having a look around.” She sniffs the air. “Were you smoking again?”
I don’t answer. It’s none of her damn business what I’ve been doing.
“You know there’s like a really big fine for that, right? Dusty talked about it before we left this morning.”
“I wasn’t smoking.”
“Sure you weren’t.” She comes to stand near the railing, taking care not to get too close to me.
Guess our unspoken agreement has ended. Pity. I study her profile, that perfectly perky ponytail and small button nose. “You think you’re so much better than me, don’t you?” She doesn’t answer, which pretty much confirms my assumption. “You know, it’s not my fault what my mom did.”
Becka continues to stare out at the mules. “I never said it was.”
“You didn’t have to.”
She turns and leans her back against the fence, her face lifting toward the sky. “Listen, neither one of us wants to be here, so let’s do each other a favor and talk as little as possible. All we have to do is go to these places, do what Grandpa wanted us to do, and then we get our money.”
“Speak for yourself. I plan to enjoy myself actually.”
“Whatever. I’m going to the cabin.” Becka pushes away from the fence, starts walking away.
As soon as she’s out of sight, I head back to my rock and comb my fingers through the sandy dirt. The cigarette isn’t hard to find, but a moonlit inspection finds it crumpled beyond repair. Damn it. The only thing I can do is push it back into the dirt.
We’re back in the saddle again by seven a.m. I’m physically exhausted from yesterday’s ride and staying up till midnight to finish my poem might not have been the best idea, but what choice do I really have if I want to get my grades up? I yawn and stretch, pain registering in every square inch of my body. The bad thing is I know it’s only going to get worse after today, but I’ll just have to tough it out.
Becka’s blond braid swings back and forth from beneath her straw hat as she rides three mules in front of me. I think of our conversation last night: talk as little as possible. I can definitely handle that.
We start across the suspension bridge, the river rushing a hundred feet below. Even on Dixie, I can feel it sway. The sensation makes my stomach dance, but in a good way.
“This’ll be a
