Page 28 of Falling

GENEVA

I don’t think I’ve ever heard a moan so heartfelt as the one that just came out of Peter at the sight of camp ahead of us. In my defense, I did offer to trade with him.

The wranglers are waiting for us at a large tent. There’s a fire made in a fire pit and chairs set up for us. Peter has thought of everything. I can’t wait to spend a night under the stars. Or in a tent under the stars.

“What happened?” Rusty, our red-haired wrangler, asks. He meets us a short distance from the camp.

“I think it’s a stone bruise.” I swing my leg over to hop down when a strong arm tightens around me. Slowly, Peter lowers me to the ground. “He fell on the West Rim trail. He’s got a skinned knee too.”

“Hey buddy.” Rusty examines the hoof, coming to the same conclusion. “I’m sorry about this.”

“I’m just sorry he got hurt.”

“We’ll take them back and bring fresh horses tomorrow morning,” he assures me. “Do you need help getting down?” he calls to Peter. Peter is laid over on the saddle with his forehead resting on the horn.

“Come on, big man,” I say. “Let’s give those balls a rest.”

He slings his leg over Cupcake’s rump and slides down. I keep my hand on his back the whole way. The look on his face when his feet meet the ground speaks volumes. I’m not sure his ass will ever be the same. He hands Cupcake’s reins to Rusty.

“We’ll see you first thing in the morning,” Rusty says.

Peter just grunts. He walks to the fire to check on the pot hanging over it.

“That’s chili. The fixings are in the cooler when you’re ready to eat.” The wrangler loads the horses in a stock trailer and pulls out of camp. We’re alone once again.

“Are you going to survive?” I ask.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Peter answers. He’s not good, he just doesn’t want to spoil the adventure for me. “Hungry?”

“I could eat.” We set about pulling everything we need out of the coolers. “I’ve never had Frito pie,” I announce, pulling a bag of corn chips out.

“I thought you should before we get to Austin. It’s a staple in the south.” He stirs the chili to make sure it’s not scorching on the bottom.

“What do I do?” I’ve pulled out an enamel bowl that looks like something from the pictures of cattle drives.

“Start with chips.” I pile chips in my bowl. He takes it and spoons a helping of chili over the chips. “Now add whatever else you want. Looks like we have onions, cheese, and jalapeños.”

“I’ll do it all.” He watches me pile peppers on top before picking up his bowl. I take a seat by the fire. He joins me shortly with a small towel. “These bowls do heat up.” I set the bowl on the towel.

Tentatively, I take my first bite. Flavors explode in my mouth. It’s hot, both from the heat and spicy. There’s salty from the chips, creamy from the cheese, and just the perfect blend of spices in the chili.

“If this is what they eat in Austin all the time, I’m on board,” I say around a mouthful.

“I don’t think they eat this all the time,” he says. “Remember all the barbecue and Tex-Mex we ate when hunting for office space?”

“You won’t miss Nor-Cal food?”

“I’m sure they have plenty of sushi places too. You can still eat your raw fish.”

I laugh. Tonight is perfect. Even if Peter still looks like he sat on a thorn bush, he’s here beside me. The sky is full of stars as far as I can see. The food is good, and the banter is even better. Did I mention there’s only one tent?

eleven

PETER

I love watchingGeneva when her walls are down. It’s worth every sore muscle to see her smile like that.

I took a chance on the Frito pies as she’s a strictly healthy eater. Nothing usually passes her lips that isn’t analyzed to death for its calorie count, carbohydrates, or protein content. Let’s face it, there’s nothing healthy about corn chips covered in chili.

---