Deuce merely nodded again. He glanced to his side, listening briefly. “We’ll talk again later,” he promised as he looked back at Zane and smiled.

“Yeah,” Zane said as he acknowledged Deuce’s help. Deuce had zeroed in on what bothered Zane so much in under five minutes—either the man was that good, or Zane felt that comfortable with him. Probably both.

He was distracted from his thoughts when he heard Ty and Earl conversing and tramping through the underbrush, coming closer. Deuce turned and limped back toward the tree line to continue his gathering.

“I don’t smell dinner cooking,” Ty observed after he broke through the tree line in a different spot than where he’d gone through. He tromped closer to the fire and glanced at Zane, giving him a quick second look over. “What’s wrong with you?” he asked.

Zane blinked and shook himself. “Trying to recharge.”

Ty looked him up and down dubiously, but then he nodded and unshouldered his pack. “All righty,” he said agreeably.

“What’d you find?” Deuce asked them as he brought over another armload of wood and dumped it into Ty’s bedroll.

“Hey!” Ty shouted with an accusing point at the firewood.

“What?” Deuce asked innocently.

Ty pointed his finger after Deuce threateningly. “I will beat you like a rented mule next time Daddy ain’t watching!”

“Bring it on, G-man,” Deuce invited with relish.

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“Don’t start,” Earl warned as he sat down on a rock near the fire. “Deacon,” he added, gesturing to the bedroll tiredly.

Ty and Deuce gave each other measuring looks as Deuce bent and pulled the bedroll out from under the woodpile. He held it up and waved it. “See? Good as new,” he claimed.

“You’re gonna wake up with a snake in your jeans,” Ty growled softly.

“Too cold for snakes,” Deuce reminded.

“Don’t start with the snakes again,” Zane said plaintively, getting a chuckle out of Earl.

“Chipmunk then,” Ty decided.

“You’re afraid of chipmunks,” Deuce told him with a laugh.

“Yeah, ’cause they’re… twitchy!” Ty explained with a little gesture of his hands.

Deuce laughed harder and waved him off. They were both smiling, though, and Zane could tell the little scene was a familiar one for them.

“We can make the trail cabins if we haul it tomorrow,” Earl informed them in a loud voice, getting everyone’s attention. “Cold front’s a day or so off yet; we should be clear of it before it comes through.”

“It might even hook west,” Ty added seriously as he sat down beside Zane with a soft huff. “But we might not miss the rain,” he added under his breath. Zane frowned and shifted uncomfortably.

Great. Cold and wet. What an awesome idea for a vacation. Next time—if there was a next time, because their vacations were f**king cursed—Zane was choosing, and right now a beach in Cozumel was sounding pretty damn good.

“So we go on?” Deuce asked.

“We go on,” Earl confirmed with a nod.

THEY reached the trail cabin just as darkness was falling the next evening. It hadn’t been a nice leisurely stroll through the mountains like the first two days. When the rain started as Ty had predicted, they’d had to double-time it in order to reach the shelter before the coming storm hit them hard, and when they finally made it through the door, they were all wet, cold, tired, and cranky.

Ty pushed back the hood of his slicker and glanced around the interior. These places were never cheerful, but this one had definitely seen better days. Desiccated leaves littered the floor because someone had left the door open last fall, and the exposed logs of the walls were all damp. The roof dripped, the floor was sagging, and there appeared to be moss growing on the outer rock of the fireplace. A fire already flickered there, though, barely warming the tiny cabin. There was a small supply of dry wood stacked in the corner that might last the night if they were careful.

A man sat on one of the four bunk beds in the room, watching them sedately as they darted in from the deluge. Once Zane had slammed the door shut against the rain, the man nodded at Ty.

“Hello,” he greeted drolly. He was unshaven, his graying beard long and scraggly. Ty knew he was a through-hiker just from the smell. Soap wasn’t an essential item when hiking from Maine to Georgia in one go.

“Evening,” Ty responded as he dropped his pack and struggled out of the wet slicker. He threw it aside, headed for the fireplace without another word, and hugged the rock chimney happily.

Zane leaned back against the wall next to the door with a tired half-smile, shaking his head at Ty’s antics. Earl had already dropped his bag by the other set of bunk beds, and as soon as Deuce shed his wet clothing, he claimed the lower one, sitting down hard and stretching out his leg.

Ty turned to them and shook his head. “No, no, I got the floor last time,” he protested as he pointed at the bunks.

“And you’ll get the floor this time because we’ll offer the same arguments we did then,” Deuce countered with a smile. “He’s old; I’m crippled; what are you gonna do?” he posed carelessly as he pulled off his damp socks. Earl laughed softly and began stripping off his outer layers until he came to dry fabric.

“Damnit,” Ty muttered. He turned and looked at Zane critically. They would have to fight over the last bunk. And it didn’t matter how accustomed to a hard surface you were, sleeping on the floor when you knew there were mattresses was unpleasant. He glanced at the bunks. Okay, well, not mattresses. But up off the floor, certainly.

Zane had set down his pack and was pulling the slicker carefully over his head. He still had to shake his head when he sprinkled water drops all over himself as he took it off. He let it fall to the floor and pulled his shoulders back, trying to stretch out.

When he looked up at Ty, he raised an eyebrow in question. “I’m just going to be glad to be down for a while,” Zane admitted. “I don’t care if it’s the floor.”

Ty narrowed his eyes, looking Zane over carefully before sighing. It came out a heavy, dejected sound. “Take the bed, then,” he told his partner.

“Quit being a bastard,” Zane said mildly as he started stripping down.

Ty huffed at him and began shedding his wet clothing as well. He delved into his pack and pulled out a tight pack of clothesline, which he attached to the walls by slipping each end onto hooks that had been mounted for the purpose. It strung along the center of the cabin, dividing the bunks from the fireplace. Then he began hanging the wet clothes on it so the fire would dry them faster. They couldn’t afford to go anywhere with wet, cold clothing on.




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