21. Beau
Beau
The group ended the night with s’mores and a sing-along. Colt declared, quite seriously, that our awful singing had “successfully scared all varmints in a five-mile radius.” He also made a big deal of circling the camp and checking each tent individually.
Colt and the families retired for the night, leaving the four of us to put the fire out. Miguel took care of the fire, and we all waited a beat. In silent collusion, River went with Miguel, and I went with Clark.
Fuck propriety.
It had been a long day, and the tents had zero soundproofing, so I wasn’t aiming for anything sexual. I just needed every second I could get of the man.
Clark and I doubled up our sleeping bags and crawled in together, snug, holding on for dear life.
Tonight, Clark felt especially fragile in my grasp. He had hardly eaten dinner—wasn’t a fan of the fresh-caught fish—and waved off the s’mores because he couldn’t stand the sweetness. Thankfully, I knew he was a picky eater and had brought the protein bars he liked.
I worried that he wasn’t eating enough in general, then felt stupid for worrying about whether a fully grown man, seven years older than me and actively seeing a therapist, could feed himself.
I spent most of the night lying awake, listening to the sounds of the night around us, letting myself daydream. Dangerous, foolish, ill-advised daydreams. Of Clark, deciding that Colorado was in his bones. That he wanted to move out here, to be here with me. To stay here with me forever.
I finally fell asleep in the darkest part of the morning. After maybe three hours of sleep, I woke up to Clark drooling on my chest. For a moment, I let myself imagine again, then remembered that wasn’t how things worked.
This was a vacation fling, and I needed to get on board with that. Sooner rather than later.
Yes, he admitted he would like to keep in touch, but … I was sure that was a mistake. That we’d be drawing out a painful ending on something we knew had always been temporary. We’d get home today, have an amazing day tomorrow, and then, if we were smart, would go our separate ways afterward.
Needing to distract myself, I carefully rolled Clark over, covered him, got dressed, and went out to start coffee and breakfast. Not too much later, the families began to shamble out of their tents. No one looked shocked when Miguel and River exited the same tent.
Miguel finger-combed his long, messy hair, securing it in a quick braid over his shoulder. “I guess we were supposed to switch back this morning.”
“I don’t really care anymore,” I said, feeling listless.
Miguel flushed, playing with his earrings. “River is thinking of changing up his major. He’d been planning to go to the Art Institute in Chicago, but there’s a program in Fort Collins that he’s looking into.”
Sour jealousy hit me in the gut again, but I put on a smile. “That would be amazing if he could do that.”
Miguel shook his head. “There’s nothing in Fort Collins to compare to the education he’d get at the Art Institute. I don’t think he should give up on his dream.”
“Actually, I’m pretty sure he’s had a really hard time getting back to the art,” I said.
Maybe I should’ve kept that to myself, but Miguel was not surprised.
“I know, but I’d hate for him to get to a better place mentally and then regret not going for it.”
I hated that Miguel was already so mature for his age. I hated that I was jealous. I hated everything about this.
“You’re both smart young men. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
Miguel looked to River and touched his chest. “I hope so.”
Don’t be a jealous asshole, Beau.
Miguel sat next to River, and they leaned against each other, sipping their coffees, looking out over the creek, cozy. Perfect.
I wanted to kick dirt on their boots.
Clark finally made his way out of the tent, clothes rumpled and hair a mess. He ignored breakfast but downed two cups of coffee. At least he’d be buzzed and ready to go when we got back to his cabin.
Miguel and I cleaned up after breakfast while Colt and Stevie fed the horses, then got everyone saddled up. The weather forecast for the day was clear and beautiful, and I was trying to let that improve my mood. I wasn’t entirely successful.
Clark, however, looked stunning on top of Betty. He was riding well, but more to the point, he was beaming. Like he couldn’t help but smile every time he looked over at Miguel and River. Meanwhile, I felt like a shithead.
Enough, Beau. Enough.
I just had to get through this trail ride. Clark and I still had plenty of time together. Besides, the skies were blue, the mountains sparkled behind us, and we were making good time. Colt was leading the way, so I hung back and worked on my attitude.
You can do this.
A few moments into my new-and-improved mindset, Betty started shying away from the edge of the trail.
“Hey, Clark? Is everything okay up there?”
“I don’t know,” he called back, gripping the reins, a tremor in his voice. “I think it’s one of those bull snakes?”
Colt looked back. “Did you say you saw another snake?”
Clark nodded, and Betty shied again.
“What the hell?” Colt circled back as I sped up. “We never see snakes along this part of the trail.”
Before either of us could catch up to Clark, Betty reared up. I’d never seen her do that before. From the shock on Colt’s face, I’m guessing he hadn’t, either. Clark scrambled to hang on as she beat at the ground with her sharp front hooves, parts of the snake flying in opposite directions.
She reared up again just as I reached them, this time nearly vertical. Clark, still off balance, lost his grip. He fell back, tumbling along her rump, landing on his side with a sickening crack.
“Clark!”
“Dad!”
We jumped off our horses, with Colt already there to take the reins. I got to Clark first, with River right behind me.
“He’s not moving!” River screamed, falling to his knees.
Even though Clark was a terrifying lump on the ground, we had to secure the area.
I turned to River. “Stay with your dad; I need to make sure the snake is dead.”
River was ashen, rocking back and forth over Clark’s body, but he sent me a single, tearful nod.
Thankfully, the snake—or what was left of it—was not hard to find. It was a massive rattler, cut in half by Betty’s hooves.
A dead rattler’s fangs and venom were still deadly, so I called out a warning. “We’ve got a dead rattlesnake, folks. What does that mean?”
“We need to stay on our horses,” Connor called back, gathering with his family. “And avoid the rock outcroppings.”
“That’s exactly right.”
Colt began circling up the families with Miguel’s help.
I knelt beside River. Clark was lying on his left side, still unconscious, and I was terrified of moving him.
I touched his arm. “Clark, can you hear me?”
He made a low sound of pain. Thank God.
“Don’t move. You got tossed from Betty.”
Another groan of pain, and Clark, either ignoring me or not hearing me, rolled onto his back.
River’s eyes widened in horror. “Oh my God, Dad!”
The left side of Clark’s face was awash in blood and dirt, and the bones of his left arm were … wrong. This kind of break was called something. A rifle deformity … no.
A bayonet deformity.
Clark blinked up at me, his face a mask of agony. Blood poured from the deep, jagged cut that ran from the middle of his left brow to his left temple.
“Dad!”
So much blood.
River’s breathing went funny, and he gasped out, over and over, “Please, please don’t die. I can’t lose you, too. Please don’t die.”
Clark reached for River, then blanched. “I’m not dying, son. Just a broken arm.”
River, however, could not be consoled. “Dad, your head. So much blood.”
“Yes, but I’m awake now,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’ll be okay.”
Clark wasn’t okay, though. Not by a long shot. He was in terrible pain, and the bleeding from his head wound hadn’t slowed in the slightest.
Colt reached down into his saddlebag. “I’ve got the first-aid kit…”
I shook my head. We needed a helluva lot more than a first aid kit. “Get the satellite phone,” I ordered, vaguely registering that River was wheezing. Like he couldn’t get enough oxygen.
Clark rolled his eyes toward me. “He’s hyperventilating.”
Miguel and Colt had dismounted and joined us. Colt handed me the satellite phone and began patrolling with his rifle while Miguel had dropped to his knees next to us, River’s walking stick in hand.
He rubbed River’s back. “I’m here. I’m here, Riv.”
River turned to Miguel, sobbing into his shoulder.
I called the front office and Lucas answered on the first ring.
“Colt? Did something go wrong on the trail?”
“It’s me. It’s Beau,” I said, my voice cracking on my own name. “I—we had a scare with a rattler. Betty reared up and Clark was thrown. Bad arm break, and a head wound. Pretty sure we’re gonna need, um. A helicopter. Life Flight. Something like that.”
Dammit, I should’ve called emergency services directly. I tried to concentrate, but the way River was sobbing… I—I couldn’t.
“Is Clark awake and alert?” Lucas asked, bringing me back to the present.
“For now,” I choked out. “He, uh. He lost consciousness for a bit there.”
“Okay. Okay. Here’s what we’re gonna do…”
I listened as Lucas carefully and calmly laid out the plan. He agreed that we should move Clark as little as possible and that an air ambulance was the best option. I nodded along and murmured my agreement in all the right places, then hung up.
“Is Clark gonna be okay?” Cynthia asked from her horse, near tears.
“Yes, but someone needs to ride ahead to the clearing and drop a pin for the rescue team.” I refocused on Clark. “We can’t move him. We’ve got a medical air service in bound.”
Colt knew these trails like the back of his hand, but we needed his gun. Miguel could ride ahead, of course, but River needed him. Besides, we had one rider who was better than all of us.
“I can do it.”
Stevie’d swung Shorty around and was closer than I’d realized. She waggled her cell phone at me. I wanted to tell her no. She was fourteen, for fuck’s sake. But she could get down the hill to the open field twice as fast as any of us.
I turned to her dads, who were already nodding. “She just needs to ride out to that clearing down the way, right?” the country one asked.
“Yeah.”
“Then she can do it,” he said, with full trust.
“Do you know how to drop a pin?” I couldn’t believe I was about to put all of this on the shoulders of a teenager. “Share it?”
“Yes, sir,” she said, her eyes darting to Clark.
He shivered, pain shaking his voice. “Thank you, Stevie.”
“Welcome.” She sniffled and wiped away a tear as Colt took her phone and entered Lucas’s number.
“You’ll want to go to the middle of the clearing to drop the pin,” he said gravely. "You'll have service in that clearing. But take the satellite phone as back up. Just in case."
Colt tucked the satellite phone into Stevie’s saddle bag and she nodded, her expression more serious than I’d ever seen it. "Got it. I’ll get that pin dropped as fast as I can.”
Her dad whispered to her, then she and Shorty took off like a shot. We all watched as she disappeared over the rise, dust flying behind her.
I held Clark’s good hand as Colt searched the area for more rattlers. Thankfully, he found none. He then gathered everyone else and led them down the trail, leaving behind me, Miguel, River, Clark, and a backup pistol.
Throughout all of this, River had not stopped sobbing into Miguel’s neck. It was only then that I remembered he’d spent three hours with his mom’s dead body in that car. I couldn’t begin to imagine the living nightmare he was in right now.
Clark squeezed my hand. “I’m feeling woozy, and I don’t know how to help him.”
“I think Miguel is doing everything he can.” I stopped. “Wait, you’re feeling woozy?”
“I-I think I’m gonna pass out again,” Clark admitted, his voice going weak. “I’m so cold. But please don’t let me die out here. Don’t let me die in front of my son.”
I cupped his cheek. “My love. You are not gonna die. Lucas is already calling it in, and Stevie’s gonna make sure they know where to land, and you’re gonna be okay. Because you have to be. Because if you’re not, it won’t just destroy your son. It’ll destroy me too.”
“I’ll tr—”
Clark’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, unconscious.
River’s sobs crescendoed. Miguel gathered him in his arms.
“River, Beau has your dad,” Miguel murmured softly. “He’s taking excellent care of him. And you saw how fast Stevie was around those barrels. She’s probably dropped the pin already.”
River smashed his face into Miguel’s neck, nodding, like he was trying so hard to believe him. I sent a prayer of thanks to whoever was out there for sending Miguel to us.
I wished I could take Clark into my arms and protect him from everything, make all of this better. Instead, I sat next to him, holding his good hand, my other hand covered in his blood, watching his chest rise and fall, and knowing my heart would never be the same.