Something Wilder
“I have never been that close to pissing myself,” he whispered.
As they all took a few careful steps away from the Bronco’s grille, Bradley happily waved to the outline of the driver. “Told you someone would be here soon.”
The engine cut off abruptly and the lingering notes of Dolly Parton’s “Jolene” echoed in the answering silence.
Leo squinted as the driver slowly climbed out and rounded the front of the vehicle, their footsteps crunching through the gravelly dirt. The driver was still backlit by the headlights, but Leo could make out long legs as the figure leaned back against the hood.
Their face was hidden by a dusty cowboy hat, but when they tipped their head up, Leo was surprised to see a woman—midtwenties and pretty—almost six feet tall and wearing a smile that suggested she’d be up for a party or a bar fight, no big difference to her. She was in boots and jeans, and her chin-length blond hair curled over the collar of her worn button-down shirt. “I’m Nicole. You must be the suits I get to whip into shape this week.”
At Leo’s side, Bradley reached out, clutching the collar of Leo’s shirt in a fist and releasing a happy moan. Leo shoved him away.
Everyone else remained noticeably silent, so he stepped forward and offered a hand. “I’m Leo.”
“You the one who signed your friends up for this?” she asked in a flattened twang, taking his hand in her strong grip.
“No, that’d be Bradley.” When she released it, Leo put the hand on Bradley’s shoulder before pointing around the group. “And this is Walter.” He hesitated before gesturing to Terry, who remained a step outside their small circle. “Terry’s over there.”
Walt offered a small wave. “Miss… um, is it ‘miss’? ‘Mrs.’? Or would ‘ma’am’ be better?”
“It’s Nicole, but ‘miss’ would be a lovely change of pace. ‘Miss Nicole’ has a particularly nice ring to it.”
“Okay, Miss Nicole?” he said then, looking around the growing blackness. “Where are we, exactly?”
“Bus depot.” She circled them, inspecting. “Bus doesn’t go all the way to camp, so I’m here to get you.” She let out an abrupt, unimpressed grunt. “You wore loafers to the desert?”
“They’re driving shoes and they’re orthopedic,” Bradley explained. “Recommended by my podiatrist.”
“A butt doctor?”
A laugh tore from Leo before he could hold it in.
Bradley paused. “Never mind.”
Walter’s bag sat on the nearest bench, and Nicole did a double take at something visible through the open flap, reaching in and pulling out a bright blue plastic gadget with a nozzle on one end and an accordion-shaped bottle on the other. “The hell is this?”
“It’s a Tushy,” Walter explained, reaching for it and shoving it back inside. “A portable bidet.”
“A bidet?” In the glare of the headlights, Nicole’s eyes were bright with amusement. She tipped her hat back, and Leo felt the rustle of awareness pass around the group: she was even prettier with her whole face visible. “I’ve seen folks bring some crazy shit out here,” she said, “but that’s a new one. Had one guy think he could wear nipple clamps the whole ride. A bachelorette party brought at least a dozen vibrators. I promise neither of those things pairs well with a week on a horse.” She leaned forward, lifting a booted foot to rest on a wooden plank. “Besides, honey, I can just toss you in the river if you like your bottom scrubbed, and that don’t take up space in your backpack.”
Bradley preened. “I told you this trip was going to be awesome.”
“I’m sorry,” Walter cut in, holding up a shaking hand, “but it sounds like you just said something about a week on a horse.”
“That’s why you’re here, precious. To be cowboys. We take you to the Outlaw Trail on horseback. You leave all your smartphones and loafers and smart toilets behind. There’ll be open sky and meals by the campfire. Games and puzzles and—if you’re lucky—real-life hidden treasure.”
“Games?” Terry asked gruffly. “Puzzles? What the fuck kind of operation is this?”
Unruffled, Nicole gave him a good once-over and then winked. “The kind that’s gonna keep you alive out here.”
* * *
A long day of travel rendered Leo too tired and cranky to make small talk, but as Terry droned on in the back seat about topographical maps, the formation of slot canyons, and God knew what else, Bradley eagerly peppered Nicole with questions.
“Where are we going?”
“To camp.”
“Who else will be there?”
“The boss is getting the horses situated.”
“You’re not the boss?”
“I am when Dub’s not around.”
“Are there cabins?”
“Tents.”
“Are you single?”
Ignoring this, Nicole slowly pulled a knife still wrapped in its leather sheath from her side and set it on her thigh.
Walt leaned in. “Just to clarify, will there be flushing toilets out on the trail?”
At this, Nicole laughed for a long time, but the answer was unfortunately no.