Page 51 of Kane

She gives me a puzzled, horrified look. “We will eatdogs?”

I laugh. “No, babe. Hot dogs—sausages.” I frown. “Well, you’re a vegetarian, so, for you probably some corn on the cob. I dunno.”

“Oh. And what is this s’mores?”

“You know…I ain’t gonna tell you. Just gonna have to show you. But I promise, it’ll shake your world, babe.”

She just nods, watching the fire flicker.

Again, I find myself impressed by her ability to just live in the silence. She sits near me, back to the tree, feet to the fire, watching the night fall around us, the fire, listening—simply soaking up the experience.

I hear it before I see them—tires, an engine. I figure I know who it is, and I’m right—a local sheriff's deputy in a dusty old SUV, rattling up the path to us.

Anjalee is tense, worried. “Kane, will we be in trouble?”

I smile at her. “Just keep calm and quiet, babe. Let me talk, yeah? I’ll be fine.” I watch as the SUV brakes a few feet down the path from us, headlights lancing past us. “He’s just checking us out, doing his job.”

“Okay.”

The deputy is an older fella, tall and lean, graying hair, carrying a black cowboy hat. He adjusts his gear belt as he approaches us, moving easy and slow—his eyes are careful, scanning. Noting me, my build, my bike.

He stops on the other side of the fire. “Evenin’ folks.” His voice is dry, scraping.

“Evenin’, officer.” I stay where I am, feet stretched past the fire, boots off, hands in sight. “Nice night.”

“Sure is, sure is.” He eyes Anjalee, then me. “Ain’t a public campground, son.”

“I know,” I tell him. “But we just like the privacy. I promise, when we move on in the mornin’, you won’t even know we were here.”

I know he sees the location of our fire, the size of it. How I built it. He just nods. “Passin’ through, then?”

“Yes, sir.” I jerk my head at Anjalee. “My girl here is from LA, ain’t ever seen the mountains, so we’re headin’ up to the Rockies. Takin’ the slow, scenic route.”

He nods again. Eyes my bike, and then the freeway, silent a long moment. “Rode a Yamaha from Tijuana, Mexico to Bar Harbor, Maine, once, me and my brother. Camped out rough most nights, just like ya’ll are doin’. Best couple’a weeks of my life, if I’m honest.” He fiddles with the brim of his hat. “Well. Good travels to ya.”

“Be safe, Officer. Thanks.” I lift two fingers to him.

He lifts his hat toward me, nods his head at Anjalee, and then he’s gone, doing a careful three-point turn on the path.

Anjalee breathes out. “Is it so easy, then?”

I laugh, shrug, gesture at the path and the settling dust from the SUV’s departure. “He was a good sort. Others may not be so nice, might ask us to move on. They did, we’d kick out the fire and move on, find a different spot. But mostly, if you’re careful and respectful, they’ll leave us well enough alone. We ain’t drinkin’ and kickin’ up a ruckus, our fire is nice and tidy. No reason to bother us.”

I zipped our bags together, and after a while, she yawns, climbs down into the bag, closes her eyes. A while later, I join her.

Easy as you please, as if she’s done it every night of her life, she curls up into me, head on my chest, breathing a deep sigh.

Figure she’s asleep, so I’m surprised when she speaks. “Kane?”

“Mmm.”

“Will you tell me about yourself?” Her head tilts, dark eyes barely more than glittering shadows in the dark, lit only by the fading orange glow of the dying fire.

“Like what?”

A small shrug. “I do not know. Anything. I know nothing about you, your past, your life. I should like to know some things.”

Fuck. It’s all tangled up together, the bad shit, the nightmares.