Chapter 8

When he went to bed that night, Jase tossed and turned for an hour or two, fighting inner butterflies of anxiety. This trip was turning out to be quite an undertaking. It seemed like a real expedition if he could trust Orr’s care in gathering all the critical stuff for them and making what were plainly familiar preparations. What would it be like to do this kind of thing all the time, or at least frequently? He had a hard time imagining such a life and finally fell asleep in the middle of that contemplation.

* * * *

Orr rousted him out when it was still barely light outside. A few sleepy birds chirped in the cottonwood trees. Otherwise, it was very quiet. Jase yawned hugely and scrambled out of bed. Today he put on the boots and collected the extra clothes and the jacket he’d pack in the duffle bag Orr had told him he could use.

By the time he got out to the kitchen, Orr had a pot of oatmeal ready as well as a skillet of crisp bacon and a heap of fluffy scrambled eggs.