Golden Feather Press
EMERALD VALLEY

CHAPTER 8

After checking the cattle, Kyle fried up some bacon and eggs, made a batch of pan bread and opened a can of peaches. Holding the tray loaded with food, plus mugs of steaming coffee, he climbed the stairs and went into Dix's bedroom.

"Time for another meal."

Dix opened his eyes and smiled. "My mother never took this good care of me."

Kyle frowned. "She should have."

They ate in silence until Dix asked, "How did you meet Woody?"

"Gettin' a beer."

"I met him two weeks ago."

"Two weeks ago?" Kyle stared into his coffee. Woody said he'd been the blacksmith in Grand Junction for many years. Why hadn't Dix met him before two weeks ago if he'd worked here during the summers?

Dix looked at Kyle. "You said you spent the night with him."

Kyle didn't answer.

After a long silence, Dix said, "You mentioned you stayed the night with Woody."

Kyle looked up from his mug and turned to Dix. "What?" He looked deep into Dix's eyes.

"Did you sleep with Woody?"

"We stayed awake mostly all night. Best romp on a bear rug I ever had."

"All night?" Dix bowed his head and pouted. "I thought you wanted me."

"I wanted him, too. Next time I go to town alone, I'll spend the night with Woody." Kyle stared into space and chuckled. "He's got the best way'a washin' up for dinner I ever seen."

Dix dropped his fork onto his plate. "If you're going to be my foreman, you can only make love to..."

"On your ass! You don't own me! Lake an' me were pards fer years an' we didn't own each other. We lived together cuz we loved each other, but we'd never pass up a good roll in the hay with a stranger. There'd be times one of us would meet a man an' have a good toss, then send him on to the other. A man needs fresh meat now an' again. That's why married folk hafta bind themselves together so tight. It ain't right them married men makin' babies from other women. We ain't got no bindin' rules like that."

Still pouting, Dix asked, "So you want Woody, and not me?"

"You dumb yak! You weren't listenin'! I want you for more than rolls in the hay! If you're gonna be actin' like that Francine woman, I'm beginnin' not to want this job." He got to his feet, picked up the empty plates and headed for the hallway.

Dix heard him clomp down the stairs. A muffled clatter told him the plates had been dumped into the metal sink under the pump. Shortly, the back door slammed.

Angry as hell, and hoping Dix would be shocked into understanding by his actions, Kyle ambled to the barn. He suddenly missed Lake so much his knees weakened. He and Lake had never succumbed to jealousy.

To get Lake and Dix off his mind, he checked on Killer. Earlier, he'd put Killer four stalls away from Maggy, then had opened both barn doors to keep fresh air flowing in case the mare was in heat. She was so old, he doubted it.

Just in case, finding a coil of wire, Kyle strung up a line, then hung rags from it to block Killer's view of the mare. After he'd caught and broke Killer, he'd decided to breed his stallion only with wild mares so Killer could retain his heritage. He didn't want Killer to break out of his stall to try his fancies on Maggy.

After making better friends with Stanley, Dix's gelding, and feeding and watering all the horses, Kyle headed on foot across the emerald-green pasture toward the river.

Finding a stand of cottonwoods, Kyle hunkered down and leaned against a tree. He couldn't see the river or even where its channel cut the land from where he sat. If he hadn't seen the river from above when he'd first arrived, he would have never guessed one existed in the valley. The wide wooden bridge was the only giveaway from this vantage point.

As Kyle scanned the area, he noticed a gap in the high ridge that closed in the valley to the west. A rockslide had blocked the entrance to a channel that seemed to stretch beyond the slide. He figured that must be where Mason Coby wanted to divert some or all of the river water. Studying the height of gap from the level of the valley, Kyle thought Mason's plan was next to impossible. Even if the rock and debris could be cleaned out of the cut, the entire valley would have to be flooded so the water level could rise as high as the lowest part of the gap. The water in the valley would have to be ten feet deep! He looked downriver. Any dam would have to be over three hundred feet wide. The task, and the expense, would be enormous.

"Coby may be a crook," Kyle muttered, "but he ain't no fool, 'less he's got another gap farther downriver." Kyle studied the gap. "Ain't no way water's gonna go through there without this valley bein' flooded." He looked to his right. "Even the road to Grand Junction would be gone. Folks won't like that."

He got to his feet, walked back to the barn and saddled Killer.

"We're gonna do some lookin' around, Killer. Nothin' makes sense, here."

Riding west, Kyle crossed the bridge. The wide river seemed deep but in a newly cut bed. He pointed the horse up the green slope that rose slightly toward the far ridge. He studied Coby's gap the entire way. Almost to the ridge, the land took a sharp drop. Kyle reined Killer and looked down into a gorge twenty feet wide and thirty feet deep. An old river bed!

The far side of the empty channel rose vertically twenty feet higher than the valley floor, walling the western side of the valley. The top of the ridge looked as if a giant had sliced the top flat.

"It's amazin'," Kyle said to Killer. "I didn't see this old river bed from that back ridge we rode in on." He patted Killer's neck. "Them gunshots stopped my lookin'."

He nudged Killer, and the horse picked his way down a trail cut into the steep slope. Kyle was glad this side wasn't a sheer drop like the opposite one. At the bottom, riding amid wildflowers and young cottonwoods, sparsely scattered along the dry sandy river bed, Kyle could tell the river had flowed through here in recent times. He figured the change of the river channel happened twenty years ago, at the most, since none of the trees reached the top of the channel, giving away its presence. Something must have happened upstream to divert the water. He wondered if an earthquake had rocked the area, rechanneling the river and causing the landslide that filled Coby's gap at the same time. Maybe it had even shoved the rock wall on the other side of the river bed higher. At any rate, the gap Coby wanted the river to flow into sat so far above him now, he knew the river could never have flowed into it...even before the rockslide had filled it in. The dam Mason Coby would have to build would be at least twenty-five feet high and three hundred feet wide. Why didn't Coby just buy Dix out at a tenth of the cost to build a dam that big?

Was it really the water Coby wanted? Or did he just want Dix's emerald valley?

As Killer walked down the river bed, Kyle felt like he was in another world. The beauty of the wildflowers and tall grasses growing in bunches, occasionally shaded by the three-inch thick cottonwoods that thrust their huge leathery leaves fifteen feet into the air, made Kyle thank the Creator of All for what He'd made.

Knowing cottonwoods make a friendly forest, Kyle smiled. The trees' billowy shapes seemed like green clouds. He sat back in his saddle and took in the beauty.

Kyle rode south, weaving around tight groupings of the clannish trees. Wildflowers, established for centuries, spilled down the eastern bank, but grew sparse along the old river bottom. Only sand lilies, cacti and grasses had ventured into the river bed.

The miniature canyon lasted far beyond where Kyle wanted to ride. The sun had already dipped to the west, darkening the canyon into mysterious shadows. He turned back. It would be nearly sunset by the time he'd reach the house, and he began searching the eastern bank for an easy way up. A faint trail caught his eye. It didn't seem right for a game trail. He'd found no water holes in the river bed, besides the path up the slope looked only used by horses. He headed Killer up the path--an easy ascent. A lone hoofprint caught his eye, then another. He stopped Killer and watched how the stiff wind minutely filled the two impressions with blowing dust.

Someone had ridden here a few days ago, depending upon the wind. Whoever it had been, rode a horse with a bad shoe on the left front hoof. Right where he'd stopped, another rider had stopped and dismounted, most likely because the horse was favoring that foot. The rider had walked from here, leading the lame horse.

When Kyle arrived at the barn, after removing Killer's saddle and brushing him down, he entered Stanley's stall. He inspected Stanley's left front hoof. It had a brand new shoe, but sloppily done. All the shoes of both Dix's horses had been put on by the same person, weeks earlier. Dix had to be that person.

Figuring he didn't yet know what was really going on here, Kyle entered the house by the kitchen door. He added kindling to the coals in the firebox of the cookstove. When the fire blazed, he shoved in wrist-size logs to get the stove hot.

Tired from the all-night romp with Woody and the long ride back here, Kyle didn't feel like cooking. However, he made a pot of coffee, which smelled so good it caused pangs of hunger and he knew Dix had to eat again. He shrugged. After frying bacon chunks and eggs together, he added salt, two sliced cloves of garlic, a handful of barley and a can of water. He let the concoction simmer while he inspected papers laying around in the messy office.

Since he'd left the serving tray in Dix's room, he juggled two plates and two full mugs of coffee upstairs.

Kyle found Dix sitting on the edge of his bed looking repentant. There was hope.

"Brought you food an' coffee."

"More food?" Dix looked into Kyle's eyes. "Sorry. I've no right to interfere in your life. It's just that..." He lowered his head. "Things have been confusing since I've gotten here. I needed a friend. Someone to help." He looked up at Kyle and smiled. "Thanks, Kyle."

Kyle walked briskly to the bed, scooted the chair closer with his boot and clunked the plates and mugs on the seat. He sat down next to Dix, grabbed him and kissed him.

Pulling back, Kyle pointed to the plates. "You gotta eat. Tomorrow I'm gonna give you a bath, but you gotta keep those leaves on 'til mornin'. I'm rushin' it, but you'll be mostly mended by then."