Chapter Eight

Jon lay back on the seat of the Harley, his back against the backrest and his legs stretched out, feet crossed up by the headlamp. He had his arms folded behind his head as he lazily gazed out across the landscape before him. He had no clue what the place was called - hell, it was so far out in the ass-end of nowhere, maybe it didn’t even have a name - but he’d followed the short dirt track that led from a battered sign which said ‘scenic outlook’. At the end of the track, he’d found a small turnaround area, just big enough for a careful driver to turn a car and trailer, and he’d ridden the bike toward the edge, stopping as the vista opened up in front of him.

There was nothing as far as he could see. Nothing but a winding canyon, sandy soil lining the base and deep, intriguing shadows from the lowering sun. Something about the place was calming, though, or maybe he was just - finally - allowing himself to feel, to react spontaneously and naturally to whatever he saw. Either way, the view couldn’t be ignored, and he’d killed the bike’s burbling engine, flipping down the kickstand and stretching himself out on the bike to just enjoy the approaching evening.

As the dusk deepened, he gave half a thought to moving on, to finding a motel for the night, but he did have a bedroll strapped to the back of the bike, and surely even a rockstar could survive one summer’s night alone under the stars. Then, with surprise, he realised he didn’t care. He’d happily stay there, and to hell with everything. A soft snort of laughter escaped as his next thought was that it was okay, he’d called his mom the previous night, so she wouldn’t worry.

“What am I?” He asked aloud as he eased himself off the bike and began to unstrap the bedroll. “Twelve?”

“No.” Came a soft voice from behind him. “Most twelve year olds would have more sense than to stay out here at night.”

“What the….?!” Jon swung around. He hadn’t heard a vehicle approach, then he discovered why - the voice came from a figure sitting on a horse, just at the edge of the clearing. “Jesus! You scared the shit outta me, buddy!”

Sitting on the horse, Billie laughed. Maybe it was darker than she’d thought. She gave her horse a gentle nudge with her heels, moving closer.

Looking up, Jon felt a flash of - not quite fear, but certainly concern - as the horse approached, then the rider laughed again and he realised it was a woman.

“Oops.” He apologised with a disarming grin. “Sorry, ma’am.”

“S’okay.” She smiled.

From her position on horseback, Billie looked at the guy. Initially, she’d thought him the usual biker-type she’d found up here in the past, and the long hair and three-day beard on his face had strengthened that impression. Then he spoke, and his voice was soft and sultry, a hint of humor there even in the few words he’d spoken, but also a whole lot of pain lurking close under the surface. It was the pain that had drawn her closer. Pain, she understood. After a hesitation, she slid down off the broad brown back of Drummer, her horse, landing on her booted feet beside the horse and dropping the rein to the floor.

“I assume you were thinking of spending the night here?” She asked the guy, who nodded slowly, one hand still on the bedroll.

“Yeah. Is that a problem? I mean, is this private land or something?”

“No. Not that. Just……well, there have been problems around here with coyotes lately.” She smiled at him, close enough now that Jon could see the twin dimples on her cheeks. “You don’t want to wake up to find a coyote chewing on your shoulder, do you?”

“Uhh…..no!” Jon grinned, then realised he’d forgotten the manners that his mother had drilled into him. “Sorry. We haven’t even been introduced. I’m Jon.” He held out his hand.

Billie hesitated, then took his hand, shaking it firmly, the wiry strength in her surprising Jon.

“I’m Billie.”

“Billy?”

“Billie. With an ‘ie’, not a ‘y’.”

“Oh, okay. Billie.” Jon let go of her hand and motioned to the horse. “And who’s this?”

“That’s Drummer.” At his name, the horse looked toward his owner, then looked away again.

“I know a drummer.” Jon said softly, and there was something in his voice that told Billie to just let the comment pass. “So, you’re saying it’s not a good idea to sleep out here, then?”

“Not really. If you had a fire, maybe, but even so - not alone.”

“Okay.” Jon sighed. “I guess I’m riding on a little further, then, find me a motel.”

“A motel?” Billie laughed. “Out here? You’re kidding, right?”

“No………but I s’pose you’re telling me I’ll be riding more than a little?”

“There’s probably not a motel within an hour’s drive of here.” She explained, and as she hesitated, Jon silently cursed himself for letting the scenery pull him in, leaving him with a long, lonely night ride to find a bed that didn’t come with optional mauling.

Billie looked at him. Under the scruff of beard and the long hair, there was a gentleness about this Jon. Something that told her he was no threat to anyone. Well, anyone but himself, if her instincts were right. And they usually were.

“I live not far from here.” She said quietly. “You’re welcome to the couch for the night. I do have a dog, but I promise the worst he’ll do is drool on you - no biting.”

“You don’t even know me.” Jon protested. “How do you know I’m not - I dunno - an ax murderer or something?”

“How do you know I’m not?” Billie chuckled, and Jon laughed with her, nodding.

“Okay. If you’re sure it’ll be okay with your………husband?”

“No husband. Just me, Drummer and Deke.”

Jon misheard her, or maybe his mind was just playing tricks with the similar-sounding name.

“Teek?!”

“Not Teek. Deke. My dog.”

“Aw, shit, sorry. I thought you said Teek.” He smiled, embarrassed. “I have a friend called Teek.”

“Well, unless he’s short, with thick black hair and a wet nose, it’s not the same person!”

Jon laughed again. “Short with thick black hair, yeah. I dunno about the wet nose, though.”

Billie laughed with him, turning to walk over to her horse.

“So - the offer still stands. Do you want a bed - or a couch anyway - for the night?”

“Yeah. Why not.” Jon tied the bedroll again. “Thanks, Billie. Do you……..?”

He was about to ask if she wanted any help getting back onto her horse, but with some kind of agile bounce and leap she was up onto the bare back.

“Never mind.” Jon muttered. “Will the bike bother him?”

“Nah. He’s used to all kinds of tractors and stuff. I’m sure he can cope with a Softail.”

The words came out before Jon could think to use his internal censor switch. “Can he, now? Why? Do you have a soft tail?” He flushed. Great. For no reason other than being friendly the girl offers him a safe place to sleep and he comes out with something like that. “I meant, do you have a Softail - a bike?”

“Nope.” Billie smiled at his embarrassment. “I used to date a guy who was into bikes.”

“Ah, right. Sorry - I seem to be a bit ‘open mouth, insert foot’ these days.” Jon apologised. “Out of practice at talking to people.”

“I know how that is.” Billie whispered, leaning forward to gather up Drummer’s reins from where they still dangled to the ground. “Come on then.”

Starting the bike, Jon hooked up the kickstand with his heel and followed her back down the trail, the bike’s headlamp lighting their way, though Drummer didn’t exactly need the help as he obviously knew precisely where he was going.

Jon just let the bike coast along at walking pace, not too close behind Drummer since he didn’t fancy getting a hoof in his face if the horse did object to him being there. They rode along the trail, cutting off to one side before they reached the road, and following this new trail until they reached a well-kept ranch house, a barn and fenced corral to the rear. As they approached, a stocky black dog ran out to greet them - Deke, Jon assumed - and the dog bypassed Billie and Drummer, coming up toward the bike, lip raised in a snarl as Deke looked back at his owner.

“S’okay, Deke.” Billie said. “He’s with me.”

Instantly, the dog dropped his watchdog act and turned instead into a slobbering, wagging dynamo, begging to be patted. Laughing, Jon scratched behind the floppy ears, hoping that the dog would be one of those that didn’t set off his allergies.

“Home sweet home.” Billie said, jumping off Drummer’s back. “Welcome.”

“Thanks.” Jon said faintly, looking around.

“Just let me sort Drum out and I’ll give you the guided tour.” Billie said, then laughed, a pretty sound that Jon was starting to enjoy more every time he heard it. “It doesn’t take long!”