The singles were a man and a woman. They stood as far away from each other as possible while still being within the group of clients, meaning they had no immediate intention of forming an alliance. The man was named K. W. Wilson. Ken. He was dark and pinched and had provided the least amount of personal information on his registration form of anyone. The only thing Jed knew about him was Ken was from Utah, wanted to fish, and that he couldn’t eat cheese. Jed would try to figure the guy out at Camp One so he’d know how to handle him and integrate him into the larger group. If K.W. wouldn’t talk, Jed would ask Dakota to sidle up to him. Men liked to talk to Dakota, even if she didn’t particularly like talking with them.
Wilson had his camera out and was taking digital photos of everybody and everything. What was odd about it was the man never asked anyone to smile or even permission to click away.
The other single was a woman, Rachel Mina. Aside from the dark-haired Sullivan girl, Mina was the best-looking woman on the trip. She had high cheekbones, white skin, and long auburn hair tied back into a ponytail. She filled out her jeans nicely, Jed thought. And he knew her type the minute the booking form had come through his fax machine: midforties, well-to-do, and recently divorced. The last of the children out of the home, probably, and finally able to do the things she’d never been able to do before, ready for anything, game for anything. Jed could tell Dakota had picked up the same impression right off by the way she glared at her.
It was interesting, Jed thought, that the booking forms for Ted Sullivan and Rachel Mina arrived within days of each other back in November the year before. He assumed they might be together. But Sullivan and Mina hadn’t greeted each other or even shared a glance that he’d seen. He chalked the close arrival of the forms to coincidence. Which meant she may be in play after all.
* * *
“Any questions?” Jed asked.
Tony D’Amato raised his hand. As he did, Drey and Knox coughed into their hands.
“What do we do if we can’t get along with our horse? You know, like we’ve
Jed said, “Walk.” Deadpan. Then he grinned. “You shouldn’t have to worry. We’ll match you up with the easiest and gentlest horse we’ve got. The horse knows to follow the horse in front of it. All you’ll have to do is keep balanced. The less steering you do the better. These horses know where we’re going and who’s in charge. They’ll fall right into line. We don’t allow any cowboy stuff, folks. You’re all riding trail horses along a trail. No breaking off from the line, no riding fast. We’re into safety and not rodeos. So just sit back and relax. And once we get going, Dakota and I will help you out and give you some tips.”
“Maybe you can ride a mule,” Drey said to Tony, and both he and Knox broke out laughing.
“I’ve got a question,” said Tristan Glode. His voice was stentorian and without humor.
“Yes, sir?” Jed said. He knew instantly Glode was the kind of man who would expect and appreciate deference and would reward it with a big tip.
“I’ve been following the weather and the conditions in Yellowstone for the past six months since we signed up for this adventure,” he said. Jed noted the Wall Streeters looking at each other and rolling their eyes at his out-front arrogance but looked away before Glode saw him. “It’s been unseasonably cold and wet. More rainfall than usual by a large degree. My question is if we’ll need to deviate from your established routing because of the high water.”
Jed answered quickly, so as not to concern the rest of his clients. “You’re absolutely right about the rain, sir,” he said. “We’ve had a hell of a wet spring and early summer. In fact, I had to cancel my first two trips because of it. I didn’t want to risk taking folks or these horses through swelled-up creeks and rivers. But the rains finally let up, as you can see. The water levels are going down, and the Park Service gave me the okay. So I don’t think there’s anything you need to worry about. We can be a little flexible if we need to. If the camp we plan to stay at is washed out, there are plenty of others to choose from. This is a big damned place.”
As he said the last part, Jed felt Dakota’s probing eyes on the side of his head. He ignored her.
Glode stood perfectly still, absorbing the answer. For a moment, Jed anticipated Glode would say something disastrous, like, “Maybe we should come back another year.”
Instead, Glode said, “As long as we get the experience we’re paying for, I’m okay with that. I don’t want some cheap route because of conditions. I want to take the trip into the back of beyond I paid for.”
“That you’ll get, sir,” Jed said, grinning with relief. “But keep in mind what I said about flexibility.”
* * *
“What do you think?” Jed whispered to Dakota when they were back at the trailer saddling up the last of the horses.
