Page 43 of The Stars in the Sky
Campfire
"IT SMELLS FUNNY."
"I have to pee."
I stifled a laugh as I watched the noisy kids from Oakland spill out of the old, yellow school bus, their voices an indistinct chorus, becoming distinct as they stepped outside into the fresh midmorning air. Standing with the wranglers, we welcomed fifteen boys, fifteen girls, plus a few adults.
This was a seriously racially diverse group, probably reflecting the melting pot demographics of the East Bay. The kids looked shiny and new, with cell phones, wearing fresh jeans and clean tennis shoes, compared to the five of us program staff, who all had trail dust on us from riding horses early that morning.
I could see their young faces taking in the ranch buildings, the animals in their corrals and pens, and the landscape of brown hills, orchards, vineyards, and fields. None of them had ever been on a farm before.
"Hello!” I yelled cheerfully. “Welcome to Headlands Ranch! I'm Marie!"
"What the fuck is this shit?" I heard from one of the boys, a tall African-American with a very precise haircut, dark smooth skin, and a grouchy look on his face.
"I have to use the bathroom," whined a ponytailed Asian girl, the only one of the group wearing cowboy boots over her pale jeans.
"Ohmigod it smells," said a redhead with freckles, wearing clothes that were a little too big. She held her nose. "It smells bad."
"What, there's no WiFi here?" complained a Hispanic boy, very sharply dressed, in a button down shirt and skinny jeans.
I ignored them all and kept talking.
"I am so glad all of you are here. Let's get you set up and then you’ll meet your horses."
"Cool," said a small African-American girl with a shy smile, her hair in three thick braids.
A few other kids smiled at me and I was instantly charmed by the combination of their enthusiasm for the farm with their inexperience due to their urban background.
A tall, attractive, bald man with mocha-colored skin and dark eyes, wearing well-fitting jeans and a plaid button down shirt, came up to me and said, "Nice to meet you, Marie. I'm Maurice Jenkins, and I run the Bay Area program for these guys."
"Nice to meet you," I said, shaking his hand.
"I'm the boys' group leader," he continued, "and Tricia Pham," pointing to a petite woman with amazingly cool dark jeans and a fluttery top, "is the girls' group leader." I shook her hand.
After settling the kids in the bunkhouse, we headed over to the barns, the stables, and the corrals, to see the horses. As we were walking over, Will pulled up from his rounds around the ranch in his now again mud-covered truck, and hopped out, moseying over to meet the kids with Trixie at his heels.
He looked mouthwatering in a faded, tight blue t-shirt that showed every ridge of his torso and his usual jeans, belt buckle, and boots. His hair curled underneath a trucker hat, sticking out at the bottom. He looked at me and smiled.
I heard Tricia Pham breathe out "Oh. My. God."
I called out, "Everyone, this is Will Thrash, a genuine rancher, whose family has owned Headlands Ranch for four generations."
Will looked at all the kids and gave them his grin, speaking in his deep drawl. "Welcome. Glad you're here. Hope you like ridin'." Then he looked at me. "I know Marie does."
I hoped that no one else would pick up on his innuendo.
It still made me hot.
We spent the rest of the morning organizing the kids into their groups, assigning them to the wranglers, and having them meet and pet their horses. Then it was time for lunch. Will sat with me, leaning against me as much as he could without being obvious—or at least I hoped we weren't being obvious. Then he left to go meet with some visitors who looked like they were from the city. I wondered if they were the developers that he was so worried about earlier.
After lunch, the kids learned how to care for the chickens, goats, and other animals, and I planned a campfire for that night.
THE CAMPFIRE WASa failure.
The fire wouldn't light. Between me, Jimmy, and Hector, we couldn't get it to start. So Hector came back with a bottle of lighter fluid, which made the boys perk up and Will grumble about his insurance premiums and the cost of Worker's Comp insurance. He'd been pretty sullen since his meeting with the suits, but had come by the campfire and stood in the back, leaning against a tree, watching me but not participating.
Then it took too long for the tall flames to die down into coals so that we could roast marshmallows, so we didn't do that.
