extra squeeze of lime," I said.
"Jack Daniel's and soda for me." Lonny grinned at Dan. "Gail's my horse vet."
"Is that right?" Dan Jacobi looked at me with mild curiosity.
I studied him back. He would be about the same age as Lonny-fifty or close to it. His thick, big-chested body looked powerful, an impression that was bolstered in my mind by his quick dispatch of a much younger man. Everything about his face, from the square, bulldog jaw to the hard, dark eyes, confirmed this sense of inner force. Dan Jacobi was clearly a man to be reckoned with.
He handed Lonny and me our drinks; we thanked him. I took the first cold, sharp sip and sighed. Dan Jacobi addressed both of us. "That was a terrible thing about Bill Evans."
Lonny looked somber. I could feel Ted stepping up on the other side of me, a drink in his hand. Dan continued talking about Bill, saying what a nice guy he was, that he'd been his vet for years, that he, Dan, had never imagined that Bill would do such a thing.
I listened with half an ear, most of my attention focused on Lonny and Ted. Lonny still looked blank and sad; Ted's face was expressionless, but I could feel the tension in his body.
Dan Jacobi was talking to me now. "I heard you found him."
"Yeah, I did."
"And that he was still alive and talking."
"Yeah."
Ted's voice was high and sharp. "So what did he say?"
"Nothing that made any sense, really. That he was trying to kill himself. That he wanted to die. He said something about horses with fire in their bellies. I guess he was talking about colicked horses, since he was a vet."
"Did he say anything about any people?" Ted again.
"No, not that I recall."
Dan and Ted were both watching me; Lonny was looking at the floor. I took another swallow of my drink and felt it tingle all the way down to my stomach.
Around us the barroom crowd talked and laughed, oblivious to our strange, tense conversation. I ignored the men next to me for a second, feeling the eager, excitable ambience of the place-everybody here on vacation, ready to have a good time. The cowbell clanged again; I could see Ernie and Luke, who were both behind the bar tonight, hustling to make another round of drinks.
Next to me, Ted shifted, took the whiskey and water that Ernie handed him, and looked at Dan. "I heard you were looking for Blue Winter."
Dan's eyes moved to Ted. "That boy owes me some money."
Ted grinned; all the tension in his body dissolved. "You're too late. He rode in this morning. Nobody knows when he'll come back out." He took a long swallow of his fresh drink.
"Why does he owe you money?" I asked Dan.
"That big dun gelding he's riding. He bought the horse from me and he never paid for him."
"Oh." I took that in. "He didn't seem like that kind of person."
Dan shrugged one shoulder.
"Maybe you'll see him while you're in," Ted said to Dan.
"Do you know where he was headed?" Dan's voice was quiet.
"Snow Lake, I heard," Ted said. "That's where you're going, too, right, Gail?"
My turn to shrug. I wasn't real keen on the whole world knowing exactly which lakes I was headed for.
"Gail's going on a pack trip," Ted went on, seeming unaware of my discomfort. "All by herself."
"Is that right?" Once again, Dan Jacobi looked at me curiously. "Ted's packing us in next week. To Huckleberry Lake."
I nodded. Sounded like it would be a busy time in the backcountry. Well, mid-July, what did I expect? With any luck at all, though, I would still find myself alone at some of the high country lakes and meadows.
Taking another sip of my vodka tonic, I wished suddenly to be out of this bar, out of this crowd. I looked at Lonny.
"You ready to go?" he asked.
"Yeah."
"I'll buy you dinner," Dan Jacobi offered.
"I'll buy you all dinner," Ted said. He finished his drink and grinned at the group of us, seeming restored to good humor. "Steak on the house."
No use protesting. I was clearly in for a social evening. I followed the men out of the bar and down to the lodge,
"Jack Daniel's and soda for me." Lonny grinned at Dan. "Gail's my horse vet."
"Is that right?" Dan Jacobi looked at me with mild curiosity.
I studied him back. He would be about the same age as Lonny-fifty or close to it. His thick, big-chested body looked powerful, an impression that was bolstered in my mind by his quick dispatch of a much younger man. Everything about his face, from the square, bulldog jaw to the hard, dark eyes, confirmed this sense of inner force. Dan Jacobi was clearly a man to be reckoned with.
He handed Lonny and me our drinks; we thanked him. I took the first cold, sharp sip and sighed. Dan Jacobi addressed both of us. "That was a terrible thing about Bill Evans."
Lonny looked somber. I could feel Ted stepping up on the other side of me, a drink in his hand. Dan continued talking about Bill, saying what a nice guy he was, that he'd been his vet for years, that he, Dan, had never imagined that Bill would do such a thing.
I listened with half an ear, most of my attention focused on Lonny and Ted. Lonny still looked blank and sad; Ted's face was expressionless, but I could feel the tension in his body.
Dan Jacobi was talking to me now. "I heard you found him."
"Yeah, I did."
"And that he was still alive and talking."
"Yeah."
Ted's voice was high and sharp. "So what did he say?"
"Nothing that made any sense, really. That he was trying to kill himself. That he wanted to die. He said something about horses with fire in their bellies. I guess he was talking about colicked horses, since he was a vet."
"Did he say anything about any people?" Ted again.
"No, not that I recall."
Dan and Ted were both watching me; Lonny was looking at the floor. I took another swallow of my drink and felt it tingle all the way down to my stomach.
Around us the barroom crowd talked and laughed, oblivious to our strange, tense conversation. I ignored the men next to me for a second, feeling the eager, excitable ambience of the place-everybody here on vacation, ready to have a good time. The cowbell clanged again; I could see Ernie and Luke, who were both behind the bar tonight, hustling to make another round of drinks.
Next to me, Ted shifted, took the whiskey and water that Ernie handed him, and looked at Dan. "I heard you were looking for Blue Winter."
Dan's eyes moved to Ted. "That boy owes me some money."
Ted grinned; all the tension in his body dissolved. "You're too late. He rode in this morning. Nobody knows when he'll come back out." He took a long swallow of his fresh drink.
"Why does he owe you money?" I asked Dan.
"That big dun gelding he's riding. He bought the horse from me and he never paid for him."
"Oh." I took that in. "He didn't seem like that kind of person."
Dan shrugged one shoulder.
"Maybe you'll see him while you're in," Ted said to Dan.
"Do you know where he was headed?" Dan's voice was quiet.
"Snow Lake, I heard," Ted said. "That's where you're going, too, right, Gail?"
My turn to shrug. I wasn't real keen on the whole world knowing exactly which lakes I was headed for.
"Gail's going on a pack trip," Ted went on, seeming unaware of my discomfort. "All by herself."
"Is that right?" Once again, Dan Jacobi looked at me curiously. "Ted's packing us in next week. To Huckleberry Lake."
I nodded. Sounded like it would be a busy time in the backcountry. Well, mid-July, what did I expect? With any luck at all, though, I would still find myself alone at some of the high country lakes and meadows.
Taking another sip of my vodka tonic, I wished suddenly to be out of this bar, out of this crowd. I looked at Lonny.
"You ready to go?" he asked.
"Yeah."
"I'll buy you dinner," Dan Jacobi offered.
"I'll buy you all dinner," Ted said. He finished his drink and grinned at the group of us, seeming restored to good humor. "Steak on the house."
No use protesting. I was clearly in for a social evening. I followed the men out of the bar and down to the lodge,
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