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When Jed had been a kid, the closest road was six miles from their cabin. Jed’s commute to school, via horseback to the bus when the snow wasn’t too deep, and by cross-county skis when it was, took three hours a day. All supplies had come in on their private trail. His mother had her last ride out to the hospital on an improvised stretcher on a aparejo packsaddle. The road builders had followed this route —even Jed used part of it to rough out a four-wheel track that came close to the station— but what was left, he considered sacred.
As Jed was racing the storm, he was using this shortcut heading home. Jenny and the professor-turned-packer (or visa-versa) collided as lightning bolts, with much thunder.
Big Enough was in the lead of the free trotting melee of horseflesh, each bent on being the first to the oat trough. “Big” was a sober enough horse when at work. At play, he loved to dance the clown. He also has a fear of red backpacks.
When the herd rounded a bend of the pathway, skirting a large, freestanding rock, Big almost ran the girl backpacker down. He stomped a hoof in freight, farted, and jumped three feet sideways into a jumble of fallen limbs.
This, in turn, spooked the other horses. As if one, they broke into a wild run. Jenny was caught in the middle of a stampede, without any protection.
When the dust settled, and Jed could see that no harm had been done, he considered putting the spurs to Pokey, and galloping on past, himself, without an explanation. After all, this was “his” trail—no matter what the environmentalists said. And, the number of horses Jed was driving gave him the legal right-of-way.
On the other hand, it was against Forest Service regulations to herd loose stock. He had been creating a hazard by hurrying. So, Jed stopped to apologize. And then wished he hadn’t!
Jenny swore at Jed in a mad mixture of Japanese and Spanish. Jed had trouble speaking other languages. To satisfy an undergraduate language requirement in college he had to take Beginning French as a pass/fail class. But, his ear could classify lands of origin, and it didn’t take too much thought to realize that the intended meaning was derogative.
“Damn,” he thought, “another verbal female.” And Jed slipped into his cowboy cloak of protection to drawl, “Well now, what do we have here? You sound exactly like one angry sow bear, but I’m guessing you’re not. Speak a little human, and I might consider apologizing.”