Innocent Milf

Chapter 24

Chapter 24

The road reeled out in front of us, gray and even. This far east of town, the landscape had flattened into a seemingly endless rock-studded expanse of tough yellow-green grass, gnarled shrubs, and the occasional stubborn tree grasping at whatever spare water it could find. We'd already passed through a few smaller towns in the past hour, chatting excitedly about the Rendezvous.

"Where did they come up with the term 'booshway?'" Cary asked. Her enthusiasm and naivete about the event made her seem closer to my age. I smiled.

"I think it came from the Frenchbourgeoise," I answered. "You know, the head guy at a trading post who was from a higher social class than the others."

Jack grunted, trying to concentrate on driving. "Trust Matt to know something that comes from French," he chuckled.

Cary snuggled up against me and rubbed my leg. "I think it's great. I wondered why everybody at knife practice kept calling the guy in charge that." She bounced a little. "I can't wait to do some knife-and-tomahawk throwing."

I smiled, but felt a twinge. As far as I knew, the last time Cary had been throwing axes was at her disastrous birthday party, distracted by her ex-husband's mistress. I hoped this event wouldn't bring up bad memories. This was going to be a smaller event--just a few groups from around the neighboring states. The big one this year was going to be in Utah and after the 4thof July. Jack's family had already planned their last big family vacation before he went to college for that week, so we had elected to go to just the local event.

As we approached a rest stop, Jack slowed down. "I need to stretch," he said. "One of you can drive us through the Petrified Forest until we get to Gallup."

I shrugged and looked at Cary. "Would you rather drive to Gallup, or take the last leg to Durango?"

"I'll take the last leg," she answered. "But I need you up front to keep me awake."

The rest stop was a welcome relief even from the relatively roomy seats of Jack's parents' station wagon. We double-checked the trailer hitch and then made use of the facilities. While Cary finished up, Jack nudged me. "Hey, so you're still good to follow through on your crazy plan, then?"

I nodded. "Yep. I'll think of it like a Final Exam for primitive camping."

Jack shook his head with a light laugh. "Man, you're nuts. I'll be staying in a motel near Mesa Verde or Four Corners. But good luck to you. I hope she likes it. Don't do anything stupid--hunting season isn't for a few months yet, but popping out of the bushes in the wilderness is a good way to surprise peopleandanimals. And make sure you put your food in a sealed box."

I rolled my eyes, even though the advice was good. "Yes, Mister Eagle Scout, sir."

Cary's walk was still somewhat stiff from sitting in the car for a couple of hours as she approached. She hopped up a little, flinging her arms around my shoulders. I could see a tiny flicker of drawn-down eyebrows flit across Matt's face as she did so, but it was quickly subsumed. "What are we talking about?" she asked.

"Secret stuff," I pronounced with a sniff. "Topsecret."

"No girls allowed," Jack added with a turn of his head. "Not yet."

Cary stuck out her tongue. "You're exiled to the back seat, buddy."

Jack smirked as we opened the car doors. "I wasalreadygoing to sit in the back seat."

Cary flopped into the passenger's seat and began to make herself comfortable. "Yeah, but now I'msendingyou there."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Whatever, miss Wildcat. I'm going to take a little nap. You two better not get up to hijinks in the front seat. At least one of you needs to keep your eyes on the road. I don't need to die in a car crash in the Petrified Forest with my last sight being you two sucking face."

"Dude," I rolled my eyes. "If we decided to do that, we'd pull over and roll your sleeping ass out of the back for some privacy."

As the three of us laughed, I turned the key in the ignition and started my leg of the drive. Cary and I entertained each other with more questions-and-answers about each other's lives. I learned that her son Patrick was named after the first ancestor of hers to come to America in the early 1700's--Padraig Barr. She learned that my favorite candy was Reese's Pieces. And so on.

As we passed by the variegated pillars and little mesas of the Painted Desert in the distance just to the north, I had an idea. I reached back with my free arm to tap Jack. "Hey, man. Can you take a picture of us?"

Jack grumpily slouched upright and waved a dismissive hand at me. "Better be quick."

I pulled over and we all hopped out of the car. I made sure to stand with my back to a reasonably picturesque vista and waved for Cary to join me. She trotted over and smashed herself against my side. I looped an arm around her waist and smiled, waving at the camera. Cary chuckled happily as thesnapof the camera reported that Jack had taken the picture.

"Our first vacation together," I said to Cary as we climbed back into the car, making her smile warmly in a way that promised some fun in the tent later.

"Barf," Jack murmured groggily, already falling back asleep. "You two are ridiculous."

My leg of the trip ended a few hours later, and Cary and I were singing along toIn the Court of the Crimson Kingwith melodramatic gravitas as we arrived in Gallup. After a few necessary minutes to stretch and pick up more drinks and snacks from a 7-Eleven along the freeway, we got back into the car.

"Nuh-uh," Jack said as I moved towards the front seat while Cary plopped into the driver's seat. "My turn. You've had hours to talk to her."

"She's my girlfriend," I protested.

"She's stillmybest friend, too," Jack retorted.

"She's right here," Cary interjected. "And can hear you just fine. Jack, up front." She pointed at me. "You get in the back, mister. We'll have plenty of time alone later."

"Boo," I muttered halfheartedly, but couldn't suppress a rueful smile. It felt good to have some of our old camaraderie as a trio back. "You haven't heard the last of me." I curled an imaginary mustache.

As we left Gallup city limits, Jack cleared his throat. "So. Why Matt and not me?"

"Dude!" I lurched straight up from my semi-reclined slouch in the back seat. "What the fuck!"

I could see Cary's jaw clench and tremble a little, but she took a breath. "Are you jealous?"

Jack shrugged. "A little. Not really. I mean, we're good friends, but I don't really think of you that way."

Cary nodded slowly. "I don't think the answer is any more complicated than that. I feel the same way. You're a great friend. One of my best. You and Matt helped to pull me out of a real dark time in my life when I was getting ready to spiral." She paused, then shook her head. "No, that's not right. I wasalreadyspiraling. I just didn't know it yet. Twenty-year-old me would never have let Eric push me around like he did the night of my exhibition. When you both charged in to save me."

"Yeah." Jack suddenly looked uncomfortable. "He's a real fucker."

Cary breathed out, exhaling the memory of her ex-husband. "Not my problem anymore. But there it is--just what you said. We're good friends, but I don't really think of you that way. It took me a while to realize I even felt about Matt that way." She gave me a smile over her shoulder. "I can't rationalize it. Maybe it's just fate."

Jack snorted. "Romantic nonsense. You two sure are peas in a pod. You sound just like him." He gave me a smirk to take some of the sting out of his words. He fell silent for a while. "Okay. All right. I may not totally get it, and I guess I don't have to. Just..."

"Just what?" I had been quiet long enough.

"Listen, I'm not as dumb as you guys think. I said it before, but there are some guys from our Mountain Man group who are going to be pretty disappointed by this. Maybe even annoyed. And before I go threatening to arm-wrestle anybody who says boo to my two best friends about this, I wanted to make sure it was for the right reasons."

"Are there really guys who are going to be disappointed?" Cary sounded shocked.

"Are youreallythat clueless?" Jack mimicked her tone of voice. "Every guy at knife-fighting who's single has had his eyes on you since you walked in the door." He cleared his throat. "And one or two of the married ones."

"I don't think you're dumb," I said to Jack. "We just... I don't know. We didn't know we were being obvious. You remember how you and Jenna were for the first month?"

Jack colored slightly. "All right, point taken. Your turn."

Cary gave him a skeptical look. "Fine. Does the age difference bother you?"

Jack hesitated. "Yeah, a little, to be honest. Matt, you're a great dude, and my best friend. But you're nowhere near ready to be somebody's dad--or even their stepdad. And if this goes the way it sounds like you want it to, that's where you're headed. And Cary, you should have known better--Matt's an idiot!"

I punched his shoulder. "Hey,Igot a semester's worth of college credits already from my AP tests."

"You're a relationship idiot," Jack clarified, without the slightest hint of contrition. "And you know it. All heart and no head."

"Relationships areaboutheart," I groused. I passed over a 'head' joke internally, figuring it would only embarrass both of them. "And Idothink. A lot. I just come to different conclusions than you do sometimes. If you think I didn't spend hours--days--thinking about whether a relationship was a good idea or not before I said anything, you're dreaming."

"Fine. Your question, then," he said to me.

"Who would win in a fight--Bruce Lee inEnter the Dragonor Mister Miyagi?" I arched an eyebrow at him.

Jack laughed, and the tension was broken. The rest of the trip to Durango was spent chatting about the various events at the Rendezvous and the trailer for an upcoming Arnold Schwarzenegger movie with Tom Arnold and Jamie Lee Curtis. But I couldn't quite dismiss the idea that perhaps some of Jack's resistance to the relationship between Cary and I was simply wounded pride over not having been chosen.

* * * * *

* * * * *

The guy at the toll gate wore old, weathered jeans and aGrateful DeadT-shirt so faded that it was nearly impossible to discern the skull-and-lightning bolt graphic from the gray background. He wasn't from our local group, so I assumed he was from one of the New Mexico or Colorado groups. He looked into the Caprice and counted. "Three? Okay. Forty-five bucks."

We handed over a wad of tens and twenties, and he waved us through. "Down the access road to the second turn with the cow skull strapped to the split-rail fence, then head up to the meadow. Tell the New Mexico Territory booshway how many tents you're putting up, and she'll assign you spots."

Cary nodded and began to navigate the bumpy dirt trail down into the campsite. The station wagon lurched and twisted over the uneven terrain, tossing us all back and forth inside. We almost missed the cow-skull, but Cary made an excited sound around the Twizzlers in her mouth, and slowed.

Our booshway was a tall, raw-boned lady who looked like she could wrestle a bison. She was already in her kit, dressed in buskins, cotton shirt, and a jacket like mine. Her wide-brimmed hat kept the sun off her face, but her glasses still blinked in the late afternoon light as she nodded at us. We got out and stretched luxuriously--I couldn't help but let my glance wander towards Cary as she twisted back and forth.

The booshway gave us some directions and admonished us to keep all of our food in sealed containers. "Colorado is bear country," she warned. Jack gave me an 'I told you so' look. "Oh, and drink plenty of water if you're not from this elevation," she continued. "We're over a mile high here, so you'll get tired and dehydrated pretty easily. And sunburned."

All three of us worked to put up both Jack's tent and mine in the New Mexico Encampment space near a loose cluster of canvas A-frames and wall-tents. I made sure to put mine a little further away, and closer to the slope of a creek-bed. I expected to make at least a little bit of noise with Cary, and having some privacy would be nice. It also seemed the polite thing to do for everybody else.

As we set up, various members of the re-enactment group passed by and waved, or stopped to say hello. A couple of our knife-fighting friends from home stopped to chat for a longer period of time. Jack delighted in showing off his new hat: broad-brimmed and felt with a round crown and a few pheasant feathers stuck into it. Around the time that Jack was debating the finer points of smoking bison to a sort of jerky with our main knife instructor Joseph, I noticed that the other guy was looking at Cary.

Leering, more like. She had leaned forward to drive in a tent stake, and her loose T-shirt sagged down to reveal a healthy dose of cleavage. As smoothly as I could, I leaned over in front of her to secure the sisal-rope guy line. She smiled at me as I leaned close, and I brushed her hair out of her face--it was definitely down to her collarbones now. She straightened and stood, arching her back to stretch.

I did the same, and looped an arm around her waist. I could feel her heart beat--faster than normal. "Excited?" I asked. I had not turned back to the other guy yet; I didn't want him to think that I was doing this for his benefit.

Cary nodded. "Are you kidding? My first big Rendezvous! I can't wait to show you my new impression."

"Dude," I turned around to face Jack and Joseph. Joseph was giving Cary and I a strange look. "We're done here--your tent is safe from blowing away. I think we'll go kit up and do the rest of our setup in gear." I turned to guy who had been leering at Cary, as if seeing him for the first time. "Where is it okay for us to collect firewood?"

He looked like he had just swallowed expired milk, but passed it off. "Down towards the next encampment, I think. Between us and the turnoff marked with a blue-painted shovel stuck in the ground." He hesitated, and then added, "Want a hand?"

Thinking it was a nice gesture by somebody who had just realized he wouldn't be carving this particular notch on his bedpost, I nodded affably. "Sure. Give me a moment to kit up and I'll meet you at the cow skull." So saying, Cary and I went to the back of Jack's station wagon to get our stuff.

A few minutes later, we had deposited our various duffel bags, wooden boxes, and other sundries in my tent. Pulling the tent flaps closed and making sure to tie them, I shuffled out of my modern clothes and started rummaging around in the wooden chest I had brought holding most of my Mountain Man gear. I glanced over my shoulder to see that Cary was standing in just her shorts with her back to me, pondering her duffel bag.

I stepped into the long cotton drawers that go under trousers and buskins and grinned at her. "Need help?"

Cary started, but turned and smiled over her shoulder. "I might, actually. But it will probably take a minute. So I'll get back dressed and handle a couple of things while you go chop wood and bring it here. You can help me get all gussied up when you get back."

I grinned and exited the tent, slinging an axe through a loop on my belt. The other guy--his name was Paul, I remembered--was waiting by the gate to our encampment. He waved familiarly. I adjusted my hat and waved back. On our way down to the designated wood-harvesting spot, we mostly made small talk. It wasn't until I had started splitting a few logs on a well-worn stump that he cleared his throat. "So... you and 'Gives me a Woodley' huh? How long has that been going on?"

I looked over my shoulder. "Isthatwhat you guys call her when Jack and I aren't around?" Paul shrugged, but didn't answer, so I continued. "It's Bernham now. She's divorced."

Paul snapped a few sticks over his knee. "Huh. I knew she was separated. Didn't realize it was all legal yet."

"A few days ago, finally," I said.

"Fast work on your part," Paul said with what sounded like a semi-bitter chuckle. "I guess you must have been laying the groundwork for a while, now. Just swooped right in as soon as she was free, huh?"

I thought about half a dozen different snarky and snippy answers, but finally settled on simple. "It had been building for a while. Just sort of happened." I surveyed my work and decided that we had enough firewood to cook some food this evening. I started to bundle the wood together with some rope I had brought.

Paul sighed. "Well, to the victors the spoils, I guess. You guys take turns with her, or what?"

That got my attention. "Are you kidding?" my voice was sharper than I had intended.

Paul held up his hands, clearly taken aback. "Hey, no offense. We've all heard you three making your 'all for one, one for all' jokes. I thought maybe the three of you had something going." He smirked. "It's weird enough that a lady the same age as me is hanging out with high schoolers, let alone sleeping with one of them."

I gritted my teeth. I was probably going to have this conversation a lot, so I may as well get used to it. "Might seem weird to some folks," I answered, hiking the bundle up onto my shoulders and cinching the ropes like backpack straps. "Not to us, though. It's just me and Cary. Jack's our good friend, and he's already got a girlfriend."

Gathering up his own pile of wood, Paul raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? Is his girlfriend a cougar, too?"

I shook my head. "Nope. College-bound just like us. I'm the weird one."

"Lucky one, you mean," Paul snorted. "Fair warning, the instant you go to college and you two break up, I'm gonna be first in line. So you better have your fun while you can."

I shook my head. "Don't hold your breath--we're planning on sticking together for a while."

When I got back to our tent, Cary was sitting outside of it on a small folding camp stool covered with an old woolen blanket to disguise it. She was still wearing her modern clothing, but had dug out a firepit and set up rocks in a circle around it. In the approaching dusk, the flash of her teeth in a welcoming smile was even more brilliant.

"Welcome 'home'," she smiled. "Come help me into my corset before we go down to Jack's to cook. I had a strange conversation with Instructor Joseph."

I smirked. "Probably about as weird as mine with Paul." I tied the flaps closed behind us again as we entered the tent, and my eyebrows went up. "Wow. You've been busy!"

Cary had taken all of our stuff and arranged it in the tent as if it were a tiny, rustic 19thcentury one-room apartment. Our sleeping bags were opened and zipped together to make a double-sized giant bag and mostly hidden under a wool blanket and an old bear skin rug with bald patches that Cary had gotten from an antique shop. No good for fancy décor, but perfect to evoke old-time pioneers.

My gas lantern sat on my wooden chest, and most of our clothing had been hung up on the back strut of the tent, almost forming a half-curtain. A new oil lantern that I didn't recognize sat on top of one of the plastic boxes that Cary used to transport her stuff--again, covered other with a blanket to disguise it. The floor had an old rug rolled out on it to spare the canvas groundcloth of the tent from our dusty shoes.

I surveyed our tent--I was already thinking of it as "our" tent--and turned to Cary. "Tell me about Instructor Joe's talk," I prompted her.

Cary sat on a wooden chest and pulled her socks and shoes off. "He was almost cute. He was talking to me like he was an uncle, making sure I 'knew what I was doing' and telling me to be careful, because 'young bucks can be pretty reckless.'" Cary shook her head. "But he also spent some time telling me what a great guy you are, and warningmenot to take advantage ofyou."