Page 12 of Silver Brewer

“Well, I’d love to sample Giant Beer one day.” Did my voice just drop? Did the statement sound suggestive? I turn away from him, heat rushing to my cheeks, and we continue walking in silence a bit before the trees open into a clearing.

“Do I hear water?” I ask as a rushing liquid sounds in the distance.

“There’s a river nearby. We don’t want to be too close as animals venture there as well, but we aren’t far.” Giant’s voice sounds all business-like, and I notice a pile of camping equipment before us.

I mumble a reminder to myself. “Right, you were already up here.”

As we step closer, I see a collapsed tent, two sleeping bags, an extra-large cooler, a smaller one, and a fire pit. The space has been used before as the pit is a scorched metal ring buried in the ground a few inches to contain the flames.

“It gets dark early, so we should set up.” Giant pauses. “Maybe we should head to the stream to wash your hands.”

“Actually, I need a bathroom.” I’m wary to admit such an act of human nature, but I have to pee.

“It’s right through there.” He points toward another clump of trees. I’m ready to say, You’ve got to be kidding, when I realize he isn’t.

“I don’t suppose you have toilet paper.” He tilts his head a second and then reaches into his backpack. A small cylinder travel container contains a limited number of sheets.

“I’d use them sparingly.”

I shudder but realize it isn’t the first time I’ve had to pop a squat. Mustering up my college days, I stomp my feet as I march to the trees. It feels good to remove my pack. My back aches. I’m afraid of what I’ll find when I eventually remove my boots because my feet are screaming.

“And watch out for poison ivy.”

Have I mentioned how I curse him? I complete my business, eyes scanning the ground as if poison ivy is a living being that can climb up my backside. When I return to camp, Giant has laid out the tent, but he directs me to help him pitch it. We work collectively under his direction. Silently. He isn’t much of a talker, and I’ve already learned he isn’t going to willingly offer me any information. I tend to chatter to fill the quiet space, but I’m too tired to make small talk.

The tent appears rather small, but I don’t give it another thought as we force the stakes into the earth. When we finish, he starts a fire in the ring as the late afternoon begins to grow dimmer.

“If you want to wash up, the stream works best. It’s cold for bathing, but a little quick in and out works well enough.”

Bathing in a stream? Is he crazy? I’m not getting naked near this man nor am I dipping in a stream. I don’t know what I thought, but all practicalities escaped me when I said yes to this challenge. Toilets. Showers. What’s going to be missing next? I turn back to the tent.

“There’s only one tent.” The statement echoes between us.

“And?” He pauses from laying wood in the pit. “Is there a problem?”

“Only if I need to sleep outside of it.” I hadn’t thought this through. His lips curve at the corner, and my fear dissipates a little at the welcome expression on his face.

“No, you can sleep inside.”

“And you’ll sleep out here?” I question.

“No, I’m sleeping inside, too.”

My mouth pops open and then clamps shut. He’s serious. “And what are the sleeping arrangements?” I sound haughty and prudish, but he’s got another thing coming if he thinks I’m giving him cuddle time in order to prove myself worthy of this land.

“I brought two sleeping bags. One for you. One for me. You’ll want to zip up tight. It can get cold at night.”

His statement should settle me, but it doesn’t. I need some separation from him.

“Maybe I need that stream after all,” I mumble.

Giant points in the opposite direction of the makeshift bathroom, and I march off for fresh water. My breath hitches as I see the low water rushing over the rocks. The sun streaming through the surrounding foliage to the crystal clear water gives the scene an otherworldly feel. Taking a moment, I breathe in the crispness, allowing the air to fill my lungs. A shiver ripples up my arms as I feel strangely alone. It’s peaceful, but I don’t like the sense of loneliness.

I lower for some water, scrubbing my hands together and then cupping a fair amount to drink. I should have brought my water bottle to refill. A twig snaps from somewhere nearby, and I assume it’s Giant. When a second snap occurs, I look up to find a deer with a giant rack standing opposite the stream looking back at me.

“I wish I had my gun. He’s eight points.”

I turn on Giant in my crouched position. “You wouldn’t dare,” I hiss. The horror in my voice raises his brows, furrowing his forehead.