Fire Down the Valley Ch. 01

"Yes, there's more. And I'm not sure I've told you the worst. They aren't letting any men, anyone between sixteen and sixty in or out of the valley."

They sat there in silence for several minutes, each thinking individual thoughts of what it could mean, both arriving to the same conclusions, but neither wanting to voice them.

"That means you'll have to go back to the ranch, then," she said dully.

"No. I've got to go to Hayden."

"But they'd take your rifle."

"Nobody's taking my rifle," Cal responded with a set jaw. "It doesn't matter anyway. They wouldn't let me pass. I'm nineteen."

"Oh," she said and then, "Oh, so you are. I keep forgetting that you've grown. But what will you—?"

"I'll go up on the slopes of the Hahn's Peak. There's a road up from here to Milo Mather's mill—and then there's a track beyond that I know of. I won't go on the valley road; I'll go through the mountains."

"Through the mountains?" There was a touch of fear in her voice. "You know of a track south on the slopes of the mountains to the east?"

"Yes."

"That you learned of when you were with . . . when you were with the Arapaho?"

"Yes."

"But there are still remnants of the Arapaho up in there, braves who escaped from the relocation south."

"Yes, I imagine there are."

"You're not one of them anymore, Cal. They won't see you as anything but another white homesteader, just one of the white men who brought tragedy to their people."

"I realize that. Nonetheless I need to go to Hayden, and I can't get past the barricade and I won't give up my rifle. I'll use the mountain path."

Her "You're not one of them—the Arapaho" stuck in Cal's mind as he set out for Hayden again, this time riding up into the mountains rather than down the established trail out of the southern end of the valley and toward Hayden. Cal wasn't sure who he was "one" with anymore. On the surface, he was a young farmer, with an established family ranch in a Colorado valley carved out of the Rocky Mountains. In yet another life, though, he was a young male whore, lying on his back for men on the second floor of a Hayden saloon for much more money than he could eke out of his farm. Which of those lives did he want? He was having trouble maintaining them both. He didn't know. He was so confused and convoluted in what he wanted in life—assuming he had a choice. So far, it didn't seem like he did.