Batteries Not Required Read Free

Before he had to answer, we heard revving engines on the other side of the truck. We ducked between the trailer and the cab and watched as a wrecker and about fourteen pickup trucks rolled up.
    An older man—I recognized him immediately as Tristan’s grandfather—leaped out of a beat-up vehicle and hurried toward us. “We gotta get those cows out of that rig before they trample each other,” he called. He squinted at me, but quickly lost interest. Story of my life. Sometimes, I think I’m invisible. “Jim and Roy are up on the ridge road, unloading the horses. We’re gonna need ’em to keep the cattle from scattering all over the county.”
    Tristan nodded, and I looked up, trying to locate the aforementioned ridge road. High above, I saw two long horse trailers, pulled by more pickup trucks, perched on what looked like an impossibly narrow strip of land. I counted two riders and some dozen horses making their careful way down the hillside.
    â€œWhat’s she doing here?” the wrecker guy asked Tristan, after cocking a thumb at me.
    I didn’t hear Tristan’s answer over all the ruckus. Oh, well. I probably wouldn’t have liked it anyway.
    â€œGet out of the way,” Tristan told me, as he and the guys from the flotilla of pickup trucks up ahead got ready to unload the cattle. I retreated a ways, and watched as he climbed onto the back of the semi-trailer, threw the heavy steel bolts that held the doors closed, and climbed inside.
    An image came to my mind, of the whole shebang rolling over the cliff, with Tristan inside, and I almost threw up the twenty-six peanuts, along with the Big Mac and the fries.
    The horsemen arrived, and several of the men on the ground immediately mounted up. Tristan threw down a ramp from inside.
    â€œWatch out them cattle don’t trample you!” the grandfather called. He’d gone back to his truck for a lasso, and he looked ready to rope.
    Over the uproar, I distinctly heard Tristan laugh.
    A couple of cows came down the ramp, looking surprised to find themselves on a mountain road. The noise increased as the animals came down the metal ramp. The trailer rocked with the shifting weight, and the wheels slipped slightly.
    â€œEasy!” Grampa yelled.
    â€œI’m doing the best I can, old man!” Tristan yelled back.
    The trailer was big. Just the same, I would never have guessed it could hold that many cattle. They just kept coming, like the critters bailing out of Noah’s Ark after the flood, except that they didn’t travel two by two.
    Before long, the road was choked with them. There was dust, and a lot of cowboys on horseback, yelling “Hyaww!” I concentrated on staying out of the way, and wished I hadn’t worn linen pants and a white blouse. On the other hand, how do you dress for something like that?
    Tristan came down the ramp, at long last, and I let out my breath.
    He wasn’t going to plunge to his death in a cattle truck.
    I found a tree stump and sat down on it.
    I lost track of Tristan in all the fuss. The cattle were trying to get away, fanning out over the road, trying to climb the hillside, even heading for the steep drop on the other side of the road. The cowboys yelled and whistled and rode in every direction.
    All of a sudden, Tristan was right in front of me, mounted on a big bay gelding. A grin flashed on his dusty face. “Come on,” he said, leaning down to offer me a hand. “I’ll take you into town. It’ll be a while before the road’s clear.”
    I cupped my hands around my mouth to be heard over the din. “What about my car?”
    â€œOne of the men will bring it to you later.”
    I hadn’t ridden a horse since the summer of my American Cowboy, but I knew I’d get trampled if I tried to walk through the milling herd. I went to stand up, but my butt was stuck to the stump.
    Tristan threw back his head and