The Mountain Can Wait by Sarah Leipciger Read Free Book Online Page B

green Kona mountain bike strapped to the top of his truck and grinned at Nix. “Do you like it?”
    “I have to wonder what dark and sickening deeds you get up to to be able to afford all the shit you have,” she said, and stood up, brushing the dust off the backs of her thighs.
    “What happened to the other two people you were meant to bring?” Tom asked.
    “You know how hard it is, chief, to coerce these minions into doing extra work? We’re lucky we got these two.”
    “But you offered what I said?”
    “Of course I did.”
    “Hundred a day?”
    Sweet put his palm on his chest and nodded.
    Tom looked at his watch. “You know anything about this issue with the shower rig?”
    “Not a problem, boss. I spoke to Roland and Matt before we left and they were smoothing it all out with the rental place. They gave them the wrong pump. I think Roland tried calling you at home last night.”
    Last night, swimming with Carolina in the deep blue of her tent. He was annoyed with himself now for missing the call.
    “You know how far behind they are?”
    “They had to wait for the rental place to open this morning. They’re maybe two hours away? Double that if Matt’s driving. But lose that look of discombobulation, chief! We take good care of you, don’t we?” Suddenly Sweet’s arm was around Tom’s shoulders, squeezing, and then it was gone as quickly as it had come, a lizard’s tongue. He was now unfastening his bike from the roof rack. “I trust you brought your ride this year, boss? And I don’t mean your hot teacher,” he said over his shoulder, heaving his bike down with one arm. He rolled the bike over to where Tom stood. “You want to take it for a spin?”
    Tom shook his head. “You might as well grab your planters and dig holes for the latrine. We’ll use this time while we wait.”
    “Boss? No. I don’t do shit holes.”
    “They aren’t shit holes until someone shits in them. Go and dig.”
      
    Later, under a cobalt sky rimmed with orange where it met the mountain ridge, the tired crew settled around the fire that Tom had built. It had been a good day.
    Matt and Roland had turned up in good time with two truckloads of gear, and in spite of the shortage of hands, they’d all managed to raise the large mess tent and dry room, place the latrines, and run the wiring to the generator. Nix’s cook van was set up, and tomorrow Tom would run the pipe for the water supply from the lake. The first reefer of trees had been dropped a few klicks down the road, and they’d go out there in the afternoon to rope silver tarps to the trees, building a large, cool cache to protect the hundreds of boxes of pine and spruce seedlings. Tom settled into the log he was leaning against and removed his boots. He stretched his stockinged feet toward the fire and opened his toes to the dry heat. Penny with the dreadlocks chewed sunflower seeds from a large plastic bag and spit the shells into the soft, rolling flame. She offered Tom the joint that had been going slowly around the circle, then pulled it back as Tom shook his head.
    “I forgot, chief. You don’t partake.”
    Matt, short and bullish, moved from the other side of the fire to sit with Tom. Smiling, he rubbed at the bristles of his beard. “How’s that fine girl of yours?” he asked. His voice, as always, was like steam being released from high pressure. He swatted with his beefy hand at a cloud of mosquitoes that hung at his forehead.
    “Erin?”
    “No, no. Your woman. The professor.” He kicked a log in the fire, pushed the coals with the heel of his boot.
    Tom shook his head and smiled, watched the flames.
    “What the hell do you and the professor talk about, anyway?” Sweet piped up from the other side of the fire pit. He sat up taller and raised his can of beer above his head as if he were about to make a toast. “Can’t you guys just see the chief? Glass of Shiraz in one hand, discussing feminist avant-garde poets and how, like, powerfully