Come Hell or High Water | mxm

1.3

"No," Gord reassured him, gruffly. "Appreciate the concern."

Silence dipped in, briefly, the rumble of the truck filling cautious space. Gravel dust plumed behind them, pale in the bright sunlight.

Then, Sam suggested, "It must be quiet out here alone. Where did you say you were living before you moved back?"

This seemed to be a safer topic. Gord told him, "Montreal. Got outta this place soon as I finished high school and never regretted it."

"Will you go back, then? Or are you here for good now?"

Clear green eyes appraised fields of gently swaying wheat as they drove, stalks bowed beneath the weight of ripe golden heads. "Don't know. Didn't realize I missed this shit 'til I came back."

"I've always loved it out here," Sam said contemplatively, his gaze following Gord's in appreciation of the rich autumn scenery. "I grew up in the city, and my parents only do countryside if it involves hotels and shopping, like Banff; every time the Hong Kong relatives come to visit my parents take them to Banff. So I can't tell you where it came from, but there's something about this place that gets to me. I think it's all that sky. Feels like the whole world's open to you. Sorry, I'm rambling. I don't know what I'm saying." A small laugh curved his lips.

Gord chuckled quietly. "Sure and half the people who live 'round here prob'ly wouldn't even say the same if their lives weren't tied up in it."

"I guess I'm a bit of a romantic," Sam said wryly. "Have you started the harvest?"

"Yeah." A frown pulled in the depths of brown beard. "Even with the back half leased to Johnny Krasowsky, it's a lot. Last year was out there every time we had a thaw all winter, tryin' to get it all in. My cousins're a help, but I'm slower than I should be. Haven't done it since I was a teenager."

Sam nodded. "It must be hard doing it alone." Fumbling his map out of his briefcase, he added, "We must be getting close here."

"Just another half a click," Gord agreed.

They found the access road without any trouble. Gord pulled into the shallow grassy ditch, parking the pickup beside the orange metal gate with the shiny new Vivid Energy sign affixed to the top rail. On foot, they circled around the gate and made their way up the newly graveled road to the lease, swirls of dust kicking up in their footprints.

Survey in hand, Sam showed Gord what the planned wellhead layout was, described to him what the tank setup would look like. He explained how the berms bracketing the lease were designed in case of a spill and discussed how much truck activity there would be during drilling and once the wells were producing.

"Once operations start, you won't be allowed on the lease," Sam told him. "It'll be a dangerous site, strictly full PPE. Hard hats, steel-toed boots, coveralls, all that jazz. We don't want any accidents."

Gord made a sound of understanding in his throat.

The wind picked up while they walked the lease boundaries. It blew in low waves through tawny wheat, swirling up around their feet with a bite. Gord clapped his hand to his hat to keep it from tumbling away as Sam scrambled to secure the papers he was carrying.

"Storm comin'," Gord observed, eyeing the towering dark clouds billowing on the horizon.

"Hope it holds off a bit," Sam said dubiously, following his gaze.

"It's comin' in fast."

"Should we head back, then? That's about all I had. Unless you've got any more questions?"

Gord shook his head, and they started back up the gravel road.

"Thanks for doin' this, Sam," Gord said quietly. "Seein' it like this is helpful."

Sam smiled at him. "Happy to help."

Back in the pickup, the wind gusted broadside, nosing the vehicle towards the side of the road. Hands steady on the wheel as he corrected course, Gord said carefully, "Noticed yer not wearin' yer ring."

Sam let out a long, soft breath, eyes fixed out the window. Heavy dark clouds rolled ominously across the wide expanse of sky, chasing ahead of the gale. Watching the gloom draw down, he rubbed unconsciously at the bare third finger on his left hand, feeling the unfamiliar thinness where the smooth gold ring had encircled it all those years.

"We're officially getting a divorce." A sad smile tugging at the corners of his lips, he added, "Figured that means it's time to stop wearing it."

"Sorry to hear that."

"Yeah," Sam agreed, quietly. "Me, too. Of course, my mom's reaction was to say, I told you so, which really doesn't help anything."

Gord glanced at him. "Seems a little cruel."

"She tried to talk me out of the relationship right from the beginning. The worst part is that it does almost feel like she was right." Sam sighed. "We've actually been separated for a year and a half now, so it's not like anyone is surprised. But at first we were trying to work things out, and for a long time I really believed we could make it work. Makes me feel stupid, now." He laughed a little. "But I guess when we said forever, I really meant it. It's hard to admit you can't keep your word about something so important."

"Some things just can't be fixed, no matter how you want it," Gord said softly.

"You're not wrong." Sam grinned at him. "Wise words for a kid."

Gord smiled back at him, teeth white in his tidy full beard. "We grow up faster out here, city boy."

Sam laughed, a true chuckle this time. "That's probably true. Isn't the ideal life plan around here to get married at eighteen and pop out a couple babies before you're thirty?"

A tiny snicker escaped Gord's lips. "What else's there to do out here? Makin' love makes the time go faster, least."

"I see your point," Sam agreed, amused. "You're okay if I come in for a bit when we get back? I've got a few more things we should discuss."

"'Course."

Gord poured him a glass of lemonade without needing to ask. Sam enjoyed every sip as they reviewed the documents he had brought. By the time he left, the whole sky was low and dark. Tree branches danced a vicious jig before the whipping wind, the last clinging leaves tearing free to tumble away through the gale.

"Gonna be a fun drive." Sam grimaced at the storm as he put on his shoes.

"You're not goin' back to Calgary tonight," Gord said, half a question.

"No, thank God. I never like to do out and back in one day. I've actually got another visit to make, and then I've got a hotel room in town. Not like there's anything at home I need to rush back to, anyways." That sounded far too depressing, so Sam hurried on, "Remember, if you have any questions--"

"Give you a call, I know, Sam." Gord grinned at him.

Sam grinned back. "Mark will let you know when the rig's moving on to location. It should only be a few days, here. The lemonade was phenomenal, as usual. See you next time."

Sam hurried across the yard with head ducked against the force of the tempest. Before he folded into his car he waved. Gord watched him from the warmly-lit doorway, hands tucked into deep pockets, savage wind whipping long brown hair across his forehead.

The first fat raindrops splattered across Sam's windshield as he turned the car. By the time he made it to the township road the whole sky had opened up, icy grey water sheeting faster than the wipers could sluice it off the glass.

High beams cut the deepening darkness as he made his slow way down the road to his next appointment, and then, eventually, to the empty room waiting for him at the Super Eight motel, where the rain would drum ceaselessly on the roof and the bed would feel cold and far too big and his sleep would be troubled.