Bethought
Kid Curry stared into the still glowing embers of the dwindling campfire. The chill of the autumn morning might bow to the warm sun of yesterday, or it might not. It was hard to predict an afternoon's temperature with the recent cool, crisp, clear mornings so common to mid-altitudes in October.
He wrapped his arms around his torso to stretch cramped back muscles and rub warmth into his body. Sleeping on hard ground at any time of year was never comfortable, and pretty as the days could be during a fall afternoon, once the sun set, the temperatures dropped like the proverbial rock. A campfire emitted so much heat, but not enough to offset a chilled ground. As well, he and Heyes slept further from the fire this time of year, having to extend its perimeter lest falling leaves or detritus from a squirrel's dinner or winter preparation landed in the flames and caused sparks to alight on one's blanket.
A good-paying ranch job had extended a month longer than planned when a bonus for staying on enticed them to linger, despite the sometimes back-breaking work they tried to avoid. Now flush for winter, warmer climes beckoned, although a decision on a destination had yet to be made.
All possibilities had their drawbacks. The foster uncle in Texas offered a respite from the trail, but he had a knack for drawing them into some hair-brained scheme they would prefer to stay clear of. The colonel in New Mexico would likely have a few delivery jobs just when they would prefer to take it easy after the ranch, so perhaps was best saved as a fallback for when funds ran low. That left the wealthy friend in San Francisco with the luxe accommodations and the finer things in life. A body could get used to that, but their savings would last but a short time in such surroundings.
So, for now, they had the trail. Feeling a bit under the weather, Curry let Heyes take the initiative to go hunting to have meat for a broth. It was a role reversal, but they had always taken care of each other. Nothing serious, really – a few sniffles and small cold. After Heyes left, he had dozed off again, only to waken at the sound of a gunshot.
Shaking the cobwebs from his brain, he rose and looked around for dry branches to throw on the fire. The task was easier said than done, though, as most were still green. Grabbing an axe, he ventured a little ways from camp and spied a fallen pine. Small as it was, he imagined its jagged trunk spoke to the lightning strike that had likely felled it some time back. Yawning into the breeze, he chopped a couple of pieces to lug back and add to the fire, taking note of its location for when they needed more wood.
With the fire ablaze, he partook of the coffee his partner had made. Its bitter taste went down good and warmed him. Not hungry and sated for the moment, he regarded the place where they had spent the night.
The campsite was located in an opening in a pine forest with a mix of new growth and older trees that had stood sentinel to the ages. It was not dense, and the sun's rays filtered through like points of a star. It evoked a magical quality, lighter and brighter than the advancing twilight of yesterday when they had stopped. Rushing daylight, they had set up camp without time to spare, with jerky a meagre supper just as the first shadows of nightfall overtook them.
With that thought, a sudden chill sent tingles down his spine. Grandpa Curry had related to them it was on such nights as those as a boy in Ireland he would spend time with his family in the local church yard on All Hallows' Eve before lighting candles at home to guide the souls of the faithfully departed ancestors home. There were other, more lighthearted customs for the children, but that story stuck with him. It had all seemed so serious to him as a youngster, and he reasoned later it was the sight of the solemn, wide-eyed stares of his grandchildren that kept Grandpa Curry telling the stories year after year. Serious stories, indeed, but told with a sly grin! Yes, Jed Curry might not be a philosopher, but the thrall in which the older man had kept the young-uns, well, that was another story unto itself.
His partner's arrival brought Kid back to the present. He sneezed.
"It's cold out here and we don't need you getting worse." Heyes laid his rifle and prey on the ground and neared the campfire in an attempt to shake off the chill. "Better get this stewing so we can warm up."
Curry regarded his cousin with one of those wistful looks that begged a response.
"What?"
He shrugged. "Nothin'. Just rememberin'." A pause. "I'll tell you about it sometime."