Chapter 5

As soon as the days of rain let up, Adam rode into town and collected several new pairs of denims and half a dozen chambray shirts. Enough to fill two big saddlebags.

On the ride back, a swarm of tiny bugs decided to follow him, circling incessantly about his head. He swatted at them now and then, a fruitless task. The concerns at the ranch buzzed around his head too. He’d been cooped up in Uncle Joe’s office for what seemed like countless hours. It wore on his nerves. In his last letter, Mack had urged Adam to persevere. And Adam wanted to. But that didn’t mean it was easy.

The midday sun bore down on him now without mercy. Steam rose up out of the damp earth. Adam wiped a film of sweat from his face.

When he’d determined that he just might melt with the heat, he stopped at a nice shady spot alongside the road to strip off his suit coat and unbutton the top two buttons at his collar. As he did so, he had a memory of Uncle Joe bringing him here the summer he’d stayed at the ranch when he was thirteen.

It was a pleasant place. Just ahead, he could see where the creek fed into the lake upstream. Golden reeds surrounded the still water of the lake. Aspen trees with spindly white trunks stood out against the wall of majestic pines in the distance. The mountains crested above the woods even further in the distance.

Everything lit by the sun.

The view had stuck in Adam’s memory even after so many years. Though Uncle Joe had avoided town for the most part—being content to let his ranch manager handle any transactions with the train, loading cattle and such—he’d taken Adam to the general store a couple of times for peppermint sticks and sarsaparilla.

And on the way home, they’d stopped here to swim.

Years washed away, and Adam remembered walking along the creek bank to a swimming hole down a ways, where the trees and heavy brush provided a discreet changing area. He could picture a couple of short dead trees very clearly, their bare spindly arms extended like coat tree hooks, where you could hang your clothes.

Yet another bead of sweat trickled down his neck.

He tugged off his new black Stetson, which he’d bought on impulse, and had the sudden urge to strip off everything else as well. The pull was so strong he found himself climbing down to the creek’s edge, leading his sturdy stock horse, Penny, behind him.

The soothing sound of water splashing over rocks drew him further down the bank. He saw the swimming basin ahead. The trees hung out over the creek’s edge and dipped long leafy branches into the pool, making an inviting curtain of shade. The dark water was the inviting color of shade itself, not blue, not brown, not green, but somehow all those colors, reflecting sky and trees. The kind of water you could sink into and lose all your worries.

“All right,” Adam answered aloud, glad no one was around to hear him talking to himself. “I’m coming.”

He gave Penny’s coppery coat a pat, and then left her resting in a shady spot in the trees along the bank, where she could dip her head and get a drink if she wanted. He tethered her there loosely, not fearing she’d break free and run off unless she needed to—say, if some wild animal threatened her. He considered removing her saddle, but decided to leave it on, on the off chance that he had to leave quickly for the same reason. He wouldn’t stay long, Adam promised himself. Just long enough to cool off a bit.

Soon, he’d hung his sweat-soaked shirt and oppressive suit trousers on the branches of the coat-hook trees and was chest high in the coolest, most refreshing water he’d ever experienced.

Adam dunked himself under and came up gasping. The water flowed down over him. Fresh and cold. Just as the pool had promised.

“Phew!” He dunked himself again, feeling suddenly almost lighthearted, his worries about the ranch, the ruined work clothes, and Old Pete—and Cal and Junior too—falling away along with the water.

Tranquility.

Peace.

Then into the stillness came a small watery splash. A hair-raising sound, not even as loud as a fish jumping. And a movement upstream alerted him to the fact that he wasn’t alone.

In a flash—like lightning in Adam’s mind—every leaf on every tree stood outlined and numbered in the sun. Every sparkle of light off the water froze in time, there for him to see. It was a moment of unprecedented mental clarity.

Colors glowed brighter, richer, deeper.

The sky floated impossibly high above him—so blue.

The mountains stood high above the treetops. They seemed higher, taller. Something. Perhaps simply different.

But one image in particular flew out at him.

Arrowing into his eyes and crystallizing there.

A canoe.

A canoe in the water, and a paddle ever so slightly dipped in, creating a silvery trail across the lake.

The lake too seemed closer, but he supposed it was the same. Only he had changed.

In that moment, he realized there was someone in the canoe, an Indian boy—in red face paint—watching him. His long black hair fell back behind his bare shoulders. A strong older boy, maybe seventeen. Old enough to know how to fight.

A whisper of unease blew over Adam.

He let his arms hang out by his sides and slowly spread his fingers.

I’m unarmed. No gun. No weapon.

I’m no threat to you.

Newspaper headlines about the Indian wars flashed through his mind. Both sides had reportedly arrived at some sort of peace, but what did that mean here in the middle of nowhere?

Without overtly moving, Adam scanned the tree line behind the boy, searching the reeds surrounding the lake for movement. And then closer to the tree-lined creek as well. All the way down its rocky banks to his swimming hole. His gaze traced over the familiar shape of Penny at the end of her loosely tethered reins. Seconds ago, this place had been a paradise. Now he felt exposed.

He felt watched, as if by many eyes.

Was a deadly arrow or razor-sharp tomahawk even now trained on him?

He kept his hands extended until his shoulder muscles ached. If he held this position much longer, his arms would begin to shake and eventually give way. Funny how he could lift bales of hay and move crates for hours and yet mere minutes had ticked by holding his arms out at this awkward angle and already his shoulders burned. Still, he kept his hands out, sending his silent message: I’m no threat to you.

The boy lifted and dipped his paddle in the waters. Perhaps he was saying the same.

I am one with you. We are both afraid of one another.

Let us part ways. I will go my way. And you will go yours. Unharmed.

A silent conversation, where Adam didn’t know who was saying what. He only knew he needed to remain completely still even as his shoulders turned to fire. Finally, the boy dipped his paddle with stronger and deeper strokes until he disappeared behind a cloak of tall reeds. He was gone.

Adam remained absolutely still. Waiting. Thinking about what he knew of the lake. One end fed into this creek. The other fed into a larger stream, a branch that led out to the river.

The river.

Was that where the boy was going? It seemed likely. Perhaps he’d wandered off from a fishing party. Perhaps he had a mother and father somewhere upstream looking for him now.

There was no movement anywhere now. Nothing.

Adam finally folded his arms across his chest and rubbed at the sore spots where the tendons met the shoulder joint. Pain.

For some reason, he thought of his own mother and father at home in Denver, the house where he’d grown up. They didn’t know where he was right then. Neither did his brother or sister. As far as his family knew, he was at home on his ranch. But he wasn’t. No one knew exactly where he was. He could have died here and no one would have known. Cookee and the men would have noticed when he didn’t come home for dinner, of course. But how long would it have been before they sent out a search party?

Adam glanced over at the bank where he’d left his clothes, and there they hung on that dead tree, empty. As if he’d left a shell of himself hanging out to dry. That empty shell might’ve been all he’d left behind. It made him wonder about his life. Had he done enough, done things that held true meaning? Lived fully. Loved. How much more was there for him to do? Everything seemed to matter more now, as if in some small way his experience today had changed him. He didn’t want to waste his life. He didn’t want to waste even one day.

Another thought leapt into his mind. The church social was Saturday. It was time to cast his doubts aside. And ask Amanda MacKenna to dance.