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I chuckle to myself and then return to my horse. I can’t forget the job to be done. “Alright guys, the sun is getting low, so we don’t have a lot of time to get camp set up. We want to make it there and have all the tents pitched before nightfall.”
“We’re not camping here?” Someone groans, and I look back but don’t see who says it.
“Day one is always the longest,” Wyatt calls out. “The rest of the days there will be less action and movement. I promise.”
There are a few groans from the group, but we all grab our bag and tents from the horses and start walking along a smaller trail. I’m bringing up the rear, following Jack again. Everyone is walking a little stiffly, and Jack’s limping a little. I hope she didn’t hurt herself when she fell. She stops and wipes something off her boot heel and then continues on, no longer favoring the one leg. Good.
The first full day is always the hardest for every group. Horseback riding is physical, and it’s not easy being out in the sun all day. I’m proud of this team, though. They’ve been marching along, almost without complaint. I’m even proud of Jack and her turnaround.
The sun continues to head west, and the air gets slightly cooler, which is a welcomed break from how scorching it’s been all day.
“See that landing up ahead?” I say to no one in particular, but Jack turns around at the sound of my voice. “That’s where we’ll settle for the night.”
Jack’s whole-body sigh of relief is immediate.
“Okay, everyone,” Emma says. “Pick a place around the perimeter where you’ll pitch your tent. Fire will be in the middle.”
“Once ya’ll are done,” Wyatt chimes in, “we’ll need someone to get a fire started, so we can start cooking dinner.”
“And we can’t forget about the cattle,” Emma calls out. “We’ll all need to watch them, but they usually stay put near the water’s edge.”
I drop my gear near a tree and untie the water jugs from my bags.
Apparently, Emma is thinking the same thing, because she calls out, “I’m going to go down to the brook and fill some water jugs. Any volunteers to come?”
“No useburnin’ daylight,” Eddie says first.
Strolling over to him, I thrust the two jugs I’m carrying into his chest. He grins and accepts them and then follows Emma to the water.
I return to my chosen camp spot, extract the camping tent from my bag, and roll it out near the tree. I’ve pitched this tent in this spot over a hundred times, and each time, it gets easier. I could do it in my sleep. The trick is to make sure I avoid the shallow roots. Sleeping on those would cause lots of pain while riding. It’s happened before, so I’m always careful to position the tent at a bit of an angle, the entrance facing away from the fire. My spot is a little behind the other tents, so I have a bit of privacy, and it offers recluse from the early morning sun.
The LivFit group pairs off, and most of them are pretty proficient with their tents. Some read instructions but get through the setup with ease. Tent after tent is erected, and a few even seem more adept at it than me. Geoffrey, the boss of the group, and Nathan get theirs up first and set up Eddie’s since he went to the stream with Emma. Then, they start on the fire.
Jack stands in front of her tent, which is nothing more than a lump on the ground. Her one arm is across her body, as her other hand holds the directions. After a second, she turns them upside down as if it’ll help her get the picture clearer.
I clear my throat. “Need a hand?”
She waves me off.
One after another, everyone finishes pitching their tents, except Jack. A few of her colleagues also try to help, but she refuses every single offer.
Eddie and Emma return with the water and start setting the pot to heat over the fire with the boss’s help. Once the pot is secured, Eddie thanks Geoffrey for pitching his tent and goes over to unpack.
I watch the happenings around camp, waiting for Jack to relent with her stubbornness and snicker under my breath when she finally figures out she needs to spread the tent flat on the ground. As she pulls the corners to a flat square, she’s got it upside down. I shake my head, wishing that, just for once, there was one of these career-driven women who would ask for help when they needed it.
I move closer. “Jack, you know it is okay to accept help. Let me show you where you’re going wrong.”
“Please, Luca. I’ve got this.” She points to one diagram, and her erred confidence shines proudly on her face. “See?”
I raise my brows and hold up my hands, taking a step back. As much as I want to, I don’t intervene. Instead, I tend to the other camp duties, unpacking the food and assisting Emma where she needs help.
There’s a sudden, loud squeal and aharrumphfrom behind me, and I spin around on one heel. Jack’s legs flail as she lies under her collapsed tent. Her colleagues don’t seem too concerned. In fact, a couple of them snigger like mean girls in grade school. I glare at them as I grab one of the battery-powered lanterns and stride over to give her a hand. This time, I’m not taking no for an answer, but I’m also laughing internally the entire time.
I lift the tent up, and Jack props herself back on one elbow. She pushes her hair out of her eyes and looks up at me with the biggest doe-eyed, or maybe deer-in-the-headlights, look I’ve ever seen. She lets out a long sigh, sits upright, and hangs her head.
I laugh aloud then. This time, she seems too frustrated over the situation to worry about how humorous I find the situation. “Are you okay?” I manage to ask as I move inside and press the roof of the tent upward.
Jack rests her arms on her knees, looking utterly defeated.
