8. Hudson
Chapter 8
Hudson
F arthing was a sleepy little town, a lot like the kind Hudson had passed through when driving a rig out of Scottsbluff. Maybe, one day, he’d be able to drive a rig again. In the meanwhile, he had a task to do that shouldn’t be as hard as it felt.
Finding the bodega on the corner of Main Street and Second was the easy part, though it was surreal to step inside, viewing the crowded shelves with money in his pocket. Standing there with Ty made everything feel a little more normal, as Hudson could focus on Ty’s open-mouthed joy when he found the flower section.
There were only three bouquets in a tiny floral cooler. Two were large and starting to wilt. The third was made up of tiny pink rosebuds that looked just about ready to unfurl. Plus, when Hudson pulled it out, it smelled amazing.
With tax, the bouquet was twenty-three dollars and thirty-nine cents. Which left them with a dollar and sixty-one cents.
Hudson shoved the change in his pocket, handed the bouquet to Ty to carry, and the two of them went back out to the street.
“You’re going to be fine,” said Ty as they both got in the truck.
As Hudson started driving toward the ranch, Ty brought the bouquet to his nose. In an exaggerated way, looking much like a bride to be, he inhaled the scent that was filling the truck’s cab.
Hudson spared him a glance, keeping most of his attention on the road. He wasn’t sure what to make of Ty attempting to soothe and comfort him at every turn, but it was obvious that Ty had decided to become Hudson’s support team and cheerleading squad, all in one.
Which wasn’t a bad thing, it was just new. After five years doing hard time with the roughest of men, eating the meanest food, living the shittiest life, it was different having someone in his corner.
Ty wasn’t making fun of him, either. He really seemed to care that Hudson knew Ty was in his corner. If they’d known each other in prison, they could have supported each other there, though Hudson supposed the system wasn’t designed so that friendships could form. Still. Before, Hudson’s reaction would have been to snap at Ty, keep him at bay. Stay safe. But now?
“Thanks,” he said, looking up the road and beyond, where Iron Mountain glowered beneath the vein of growing clouds. “Appreciate it.”
“It’s going to rain, again,” said Ty, and Hudson didn’t know if he was thinking of walking in it later, but if he was, Hudson would look out for him, like he did before.
When they reached the green-painted gate, beneath the large overhead sign that announced they’d arrived at Farthingdale Ranch, Ty hopped out, waited while Hudson drove through, shut the gate, then hopped in the passenger side again.
They trundled on, following the dirt road until they came to the circular gravel parking lot. Which was when Hudson started to get nervous.
Fidgeting in his seat, and ignoring Ty’s concerned looks, he parked the truck, turned off the engine, and just sat there, wiping his palms on his thighs.
“This is hard,” said Ty, speaking for him. “But it’s going to be fine, you’ll see.”
They got out and Hudson led the way, slowly climbing the two wooden steps until they stood in the shade of the porch.
It was a warm day, so the main door to Maddy’s office was open, with the screen door letting in a slight breeze. Hudson knocked on the frame of the screen door and took the bouquet when Ty handed it to him.
But before he could start to sweat and worry, Maddy opened the door with a smile.
“Why don’t you boys come in?” she asked. Her expression was so pleasant, Hudson wasn’t sure what to do or say.
“Yes, ma’am,” Ty said, echoed by Hudson. “Yes, ma’am.”
Maddy’s office was sensible and tidy, with a little sitting area to the right that had a few glass-topped display cases. To the left was another office area, where a scholarly-looking fellow with dark copper-red hair was studiously at work.
Hudson gathered himself from being distracted and held out the bouquet. The scent of roses swirled around.
“This is for you,” he said. “Along with my apology for startling you before.”
“Oh,” said Maddy, a faint blush on her cheeks. “Gabe said you were coming, but he didn’t say why. Or that you were bringing me something.” With a soft smile, she brought the bouquet close and inhaled the rich scent. She looked up at him, her eyes shining. “I love roses. And this is so sweet of you. Thank you. Let me put these in a vase.”
She handed the bouquet back to him and rummaged through a storage cupboard, pulled out a vase, and then went into the small bathroom to fill it with water. When she came back out, she held the vase aloft, still smiling.
“You don’t have to apologize again,” she said, taking the bouquet from Hudson. “But I really appreciate that you’re worried.”
“I am, ma’am,” he said quietly as he watched her arranging the roses in the squat, round glass vase.
“There,” she said when she was done. “Everything all right in the valley?”
“Yes, ma’am,” they said together.
She patted Hudson on the arm, looking up at him, and said, “This will get easier with time, I promise you.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Hudson said. It was just about killing him that she was concerned about him, but he clamped this worry down tight, so as not to concern her any more than he already had. “Well, I guess we’d better get going.”
They saw themselves out, Hudson leading the way, and stood together on the porch. A small, chill gust of wind announced what they already knew. It was raining, a silvery rain that flickered like tinsel in the slanting sunlight.
“Guess you were right,” said Hudson.
“Can we—” Ty stopped, coming up on Hudson’s heels. “Could we just keep going?” he asked. “Keep on driving and never come back?”
“Drive forever?” Even while wondering what triggered Ty’s request, Hudson could hear the longing in his own voice as well as Ty’s.
“Yeah.”
Maddy was right. Time would make it easier.
As for now, Hudson felt wrung out, like he’d spent a whole day on the roads outside Chadron, shoveling gravel, edging the shoulders of a road that went on for miles with it. He found he suddenly, desperately, wanted the blankness that a long drive to the far horizons of the earth could provide.
“Sure,” he said. “Let’s go.”
He trotted to the truck, flung himself in the driver’s seat, and started the engine. The gas gauge said three quarters full.
As soon as Ty had shut the passenger door, Hudson spun out of the parking lot and back to the green-painted gate.
Once again, Ty hopped out and then hopped in, and then, then they could really take off.
Hudson took a left, away from the valley, and headed up Highway 211. Pretty soon, the pavement ended, and the dirt road began, a winding road that paralleled the low, dusty mountains to the west. They were headed into the backcountry along Horse Creek Road.
The rain stayed soft as they drove along. Ty rolled down his window, leaned out, and lay his chin on his folded arms in the open window, as if to catch the scent of the rain.
It was chilly, but not too cold, so Hudson rolled his own window down part way. The rain-scented air swirled around the truck’s cab, the way the scent of roses had done on their way to the ranch.
Ty’s fair hair flickered around his face until drops of rain settled it. Rain sparkled on his eyebrows, and when he looked over at Hudson, he was smiling.
“This is nice,” said Ty.
He was unable to resist that smile, that bright energy, and decided that they’d drive till dawn, just the two of them. They’d drive till morning at least. Find some work. Earn some money. Then Hudson could buy his own rig and then he and Ty could tag team the driving?—
Ty didn’t know what Hudson was thinking. He’d probably ask to be dropped off in a town somewhere so he could make his own way.
“Look at that sign,” said Ty, pointing at a large yellow sign with an elegantly drawn brown bee on it. “Do you think they raise bees?
The farm was just past a z-turn in the road, sharp left, sharp right. There were trees and a little bridge you could drive over.
“Cozy,” said Hudson.
His attention was on the road, but mostly it was on Ty. Rain sparkled in his hair like tiny bits of silver. His face was pink with the cold.
Hudson turned on the heater and kept driving steadily. “You okay?” he asked, because Ty hadn’t turned to look at him in a while.
“I don’t know.” Ty sighed. “I just don’t know what to think anymore. It’s all so different now. I just want to go back to being a cowboy, riding the range.”
At first, Hudson thought he was joking. Were there cowboys actually riding the range, like they used to in the old days? The rain increased until finally Ty had to sit up and roll up his window. Hudson rolled up his.
“Were you a cowboy?” he asked.
“Yeah,” said Ty, with a glance at Hudson as he wiped the rain from his face. “There’re a bunch of ranchers who discovered that if the cattle are watched over and moved from food source to food source, rather than just letting them graze, they’re healthier. The grass doesn’t get eaten down to the soil. The riverbanks stay healthy, too.”
“So what do you do, camp out with them?” It sounded like Ty had led a lonely life. Romantic but lonely.
“Yeah.” Ty squinted through the windshield like he was trying to see where they were going. “I miss it. We had tents, we had a chuck wagon, the whole nine yards. I felt like I was doing something useful, you know?”
“Did you sing to the cattle like they do in the movies?” Hudson asked.
Ty’s smile was quick and wry, showing a dimple in his left cheek. “Sometimes,” he said. “One guy even had a harmonica, and you just can’t beat the sound of a harmonica under a full moon.”
“Sounds like quite a life,” said Hudson, and he meant it. Which meant that it was for sure Ty wouldn’t be interested in becoming half of a trucker team.
Ty had his own life to get back to, a life on horseback, singing to the cattle. Which meant that Hudson would be on his own, so maybe he should get used to that sooner rather than later.
Up ahead was I-25. Highway 211 went right under it. On the other side was a small town called Chugwater.
Chugwater had a number of gas stations and rest stops, which made it a good place for stopping when he’d been driving a truck. Hudson had driven up and down I-25 plenty of times, which was why everything felt a little familiar.
They passed through Chugwater slowly, the heater going, wipers doing double time as the rain started to come down harder. On the other side of Chugwater, Hudson turned onto a two-lane blacktop. A sign indicated the road would take them to Hawk Springs.
Hawk Springs was not on the Wyoming-Nebraska border, but if they kept going, they’d eventually cross the state line and break their parole. Sure, he’d be in Nebraska, and that much closer to his old stomping grounds, but he’d also get arrested and thrown back in jail. Ty would too, and the last thing Hudson wanted to think about was the bright-eyed man who was his tent mate being once more behind bars.
He didn’t know why he was suddenly thinking so practically, but when the road began to rise, and at the top of a bluff, Hudson pulled over at a little flat space and faced the truck west. The rain wasn’t letting up, but the setting sun was slicing through the clouds, just above the foothills, in a narrow burst of orange and gray.
Ty got out, because of course he did. Hudson got out as well. A little rain wouldn’t hurt them.
It was gusty on top of the bluff, and damp. The grasses were bent and silvered with rain.
The two of them really didn’t have anywhere to go. The dollar and change in his pocket, as well as the now half tank of gas, wouldn’t get them very far, let alone to forever.
“We don’t have any place to go,” he said out loud as he crossed his arms over his chest. “We keep going and we’ll break our parole.”
“I know,” said Ty. “Guess we better go back. Wonder if they missed us.”
The heady feeling of escape was now gone, replaced with an oh shit feeling, because the sun was going down and they had promised to be back by dinner.
“Guess we better,” said Hudson, keeping his cool by force of will.
“Yeah,” said Ty, and when Hudson looked at him, silvery rain was dripping from his hair, diamond flecks on his eyelashes, making his eyes so very blue. Like the sky would be, once they outran the rain.