Hay runs (part 4)

Sometime after sitting in the saddle long enough you loose track of time and settle into a daze of random thoughts, memories, and for me, usually a song. I had sung every one that popped into my head, and was in the middle of "Shooting Star" by Bad Company when we crossed over Basin Creek yet again higher up the mountain. The creek was much smaller here, but just as clear and cold. Chester tried to stop for a drink unsuccessfully, no one else was stopping. The rest of the stock pushed and pulled him up the pass. I smiled to myself as I looked back at the string winding up the trail. "Johnny died one night, died in his bed. Bottle of whiskey, sleeping tablets by his bed." Sarah and Lilly paid no attention to the lyrics as I inspected every one's saddle and pad, nose bags, and loads. Nothing looked out of place. The song reminded me of a job I had back home, working at a welding shop. When a good song came on the radio four of us there would usually start singing in unison. Immediately my thoughts bursted down the timeline of my life to where I was now. It almost felt like a different life, and in a way it was. I opened my pommel bag and took out a bottle of water, and took a drink. "Johnny's life passed him by like a warm summer day, if you listen to the wind you can still hear him play."
Lena came back into my mind again, and immediately I got anxious. I absolutely could not wait to see her again. I began to question myself and our relationship, almost like I was having a conversation with someone else. I knew I loved her, but was she who I wanted to marry? A year ago I wouldn't have been capable of such thoughts. I was terrified of loosing my freedom. I had a job, or two, that I could walk a way from at any minute. I had no debt of any kind, no mortgage, no truck payment, no loans. There was nothing holding me to anything or any place, which is about as free as you can get. I could ride out of here and leave tomorrow with a full belly, some pocket money, and a full tank of gas. This was about as good as it could get for the last few years of my life. I realized that I wasn't scared of loosing that anymore. There were only two women in my life that had never wanted me to be anything but who I was. My Grandmother, and Lena. I would gladly share my life with someone like that. I realized that she never put up any fences, and that is what kept me around.
We had made it near the top of the pass and as I looked back over the string I could see a view hardly rivaled any where. I looked back at a Danaher Valley and the drainage from where I had just come, wondering if I would ever see it again. We passed in and out of the shade and an immediate temperature change could be felt by the sun's rays. The trail was soft with silt and dust dried out from the arid conditions. Still no tracks except ours on the trail. We passed by the old trapper's cabin, a stoic relic of the past. A life I thought I could understand, and possibly even lead. I had about a half hour to the top, so I took out my peanut butter and jelly sandwich I made yesterday. I looked at the tree's that covered the heights of the pass. Short and stunted by the weather hardened life. They gained in character what they lost in height, for even though they were small I knew they were several lifetimes old. Blown by the wind and hampered by the elements they still managed life.
We wandered up the last few hundred yards to the top, and I led the string off the trail onto a flat spot in the timber. I didn't even have to steer, Sheriff knew the drill. He stopped in front of a tree, and I dismounted. I took Sarah's lead and tethered it in to the piggin on the back of my saddle. I tied Sheriff to his tree and began to stretch my legs. I walked back and made some minor adjustments to the string. They were sweaty from the walk, and emitted a sweet yet bitter smell. The sweat mixed with the leather makes a smell and a memory that I will never loose. I pulled each cinch a little tighter and checked my three loads. The mules had settled into the routine and were ready to continue. I untied Sheriff's lead and gave the reins one half hitch around my saddle horn. We started our walk down the east side of the divide. With every step we were a little closer to the corral, and I was a little closer to her.