Ray Gorham - 77 Days in September

“Yeah, but I do have Max,” she said reaching down to pat the German shepherd resting beside her chair. “I have two boys. Anthony’s with the marines in Germany, at least he was last I knew, and William graduated from college last spring and took a job in Atlanta. I’d give anything to know how they’re doing right now. My husband, Bruce, was back East on September 2 nd, but I don’t expect him to be showing up anytime soon. Your kids are lucky to have a devoted father like you,” she said, with a note of sadness.

“Thanks,” Kyle said. “I just pray everything’s okay when I get back. Listen, there’s one thing I want to know. I can remember walking in the snow for what seemed like forever, but I don’t remember coming in your house. How’d I end up here? Was I just too cold and don’t remember.”

Rose shook her head and motioned to her German shepherd. “No, Max saved you. I was about to crawl into bed when he started barking pretty crazy-like. He’s usually quiet, as you’ve probably noticed. The last time I remember him barking like that was when we had a cougar lurking around. Anyway, I tried to get him to shut up, but he kept on, so I came out to the living room to see what was up. When I looked out the window, I saw a little bit of movement and realized there was a person in the front yard. After that it was just a matter of dragging you in, which took a little bit because you weren’t exactly cooperative.”

“Sorry,” said Kyle. “I was a little out of it.”

“You were more than a little out of it. Somebody must be looking out for you is all I can say. Max is starting to get old, and it takes quite a bit for him to get excited. He’s even quit barking at the UPS truck. Why or how he noticed you is beyond me. Of course I’m kind of glad he did. It would have been kind of creepy to find a body in the front yard when the snow melted off.”

Kyle laughed. “Maybe I’d have made good fertilizer. You could have had a nice patch of green grass come springtime. Seriously though, I owe you and Max my life. I really don’t know how to repay that kind of a debt. Thanks just doesn’t cut it.”

“I’m sure you’d have done the same thing. That’s just what people do.”

“Well, not everyone,” responded Kyle, “but that’s another story.” They sat in silence at the table before Kyle spoke up again. “How long do you think the snow will last?”

Rose looked out the window at the sky. “It’s hard to say. This is pretty early for winter, even in Wyoming. It’ll probably warm up in a day or two and start to melt off, and then most of it should be gone in five, maybe six days at the most, especially in the areas where it hasn’t drifted.”

“I’ll get out of here as soon as I can. If you like, I can even leave today. I’m feeling pretty good. The cart I’ve been pulling is just a couple of miles back, and with the better weather, I’m sure I can find some shelter. Then once the roads are clear, I can keep going. Your husband would probably worry about you if he knew I was here.”

“Oh, I don’t think he’d care too much. You don’t seem to be too threatening, and I’ve got Max to protect me. Besides, it’s been pretty quiet around here for the last month and a half. You’re welcome to stay until traveling is good.”

“I appreciate that, and don’t worry, I’ll get out of here as soon as the roads are good. Maybe I can work off some of my debt while I’m here.”

“I’ve been doing pretty good on my own, but I’ll take a look and see if there’s anything I need help with.”

Rose cleared the dishes and sent Kyle back to the couch to lay down. With little to occupy him, Kyle spent the rest of the day napping, pacing the house, flipping through old magazines, and stretching the stiffness and aches out of his arms and legs. His body felt like it had spent twelve hours at the gym, which Rose, with her eclectic wealth of knowledge, explained was a build up of chemicals, a result of his muscles being short of blood and oxygen when he nearly froze. At her direction, he continued to drink the honey water mixture and, consequently, spent a lot of time in the bathroom.

Kyle watched the thermometer throughout the day, never seeing it rise above 30º. Water dripped from the roof, but the amount of snow on the ground didn’t seem to change. In the distance, he could see the delivery truck he had briefly used for shelter, the last place he remembered clearly, and tracks in the front yard where Rose had pulled him through the snow, which were now mostly drifted over. Recalling the bitterness of the storm, and noting the size disparity between the two of them, Kyle wondered at the effort it must have taken Rose to get him inside.

In the late afternoon, Kyle heated up some water on the woodstove and took a long, hot bath, reflecting that never in his life had bathing seemed like such a luxury. He scrubbed his body from head to toe three times and soaked until the water was cold and brown and his skin was shriveled. He rinsed with clean water, then climbed out of the tub and dried off, feeling truly clean for the first time in weeks. Rose had provided him with deodorant, a toothbrush and toothpaste, and shaving supplies, and by the time he emerged from the bathroom, he felt almost human again.

Dinner was a simple meal of deer steak and potatoes with gravy, but was like manna to Kyle’s still-recovering body. Dinner conversation started slowly, but gradually picked up momentum, revolving around their families and experiences since the attack. Between the two of them, they’d tallied just a few short hours of human interaction over the past six weeks, and this pent up need to share soon had their conversation flowing like a mountain stream in the spring, spilling haphazardly over its banks as it shed a season’s worth of build-up.

Rose shared her story with Kyle, that she had grown up on a ranch, loved her horses, and done barrel racing as a kid, then eventually gone to college in Colorado and met and fell in love with a city guy. Bruce was into computers and could barely tell a horse from a cow, but love had won out and they’d gotten married. After graduation, they’d moved to Denver where he was successful, and she was unhappy. When their kids were six and eight, they’d bought the place in Wyoming and moved back closer to where she’d grown up. There she was happy, but he wasn’t. Bruce had worked from home and traveled to meet with clients as needed, and that had been okay, but the last few years he’d needed to meet with clients a lot, she observed, which left her alone more and more often. She enjoyed her independence and the time it gave her to spend with her horses, as well as the less structured nature of her job in real estate, but in the rural setting, the work was more of a pastime with a part-time income, rather than a full-time occupation.

Kyle told Rose about the experiences he’d had on his journey, the highs and lows and the challenges he’d faced. It felt good to share his stories with someone, to talk about things he hadn’t been able to talk about, except for occasional entries in his journal, and some of which he would probably never share with his family. To talk about escaping death and taking a life, after mulling it over in his mind for weeks, was therapeutic. He bragged on his kids and the good people that had helped him on his way, and voiced how he worried about his family and what they might be facing without him there to take care of them.

At sundown, Rose dug out a candle, and they talked and laughed and cried in a lavender-scented haze until the candle burnt itself out. Neither of them wanted the evening to end, the conversation being so welcome and humanizing, but candles were scarce, and the periods of silence grew more frequent.

The clock on the wall indicated it was well after midnight, so when Kyle struggled to stifle an extended yawn, Rose directed him to Anthony’s bedroom, where he’d gotten some clothes earlier in the day. The room had been empty for over a year, Rose explained, but she had left it as it was when Anthony joined the service so that he would still have his room to come home to when he was on leave. In flickering candlelight, Kyle took a look around, noticing an assortment of posters on the walls ranging from the Swedish bikini team, to fighter jets, to Nickelback concert shots, along with a large marine logo painted on the wall across from the bed. On the desk was a framed picture of a young girl, who Rose identified as Anthony’s fiancée. Other than the fact it was far too tidy, the room looked like the bedroom of a typical teenage boy.