Coachs Conquests Ch 06

6

"A Chevy C-60."

"A Chevy C-60?"

"A Chevy C-60."

As he bumped and bounced along the rutted road toward the Gilbert Place cabin in his Jeep Grand Cherokee Laredo, Bret Harris recalled the conversation he had with Rusty Barr, a long-time farmer who lived a mile and a quarter outside of Lakeville.

Barr needed a fill-in truck driver to help complete the harvest. As it turned out, Bret Harris was his man. When word got out around town that Barr was in need of a driver for the last couple days of his harvest after his wife became ill, Bret inquired to some of the locals as to what kind of equipment the farmers in the area used.

When he found out the truck Barr owned was similar to one he had driven in college, a Chevy C-60 Series, Bret drove out to the Barr Place and found Rusty eating lunch near his broken-down combine.

"Good start you're off to this season, Coach," was how Barr greeted Bret. "What can I do for you?"

Bret relayed the stories about driving truck in college to earn extra wages, and Barr seemed pleased that he might have an experienced farmhand on his hands. For the next three days (a Friday, Saturday and Sunday since Lakeville had a bye in Week Two), Bret drove Rusty Barr's C-60 in the field and to town and back, unloading spring wheat in the elevator while gazing at the female drivers in shorts and tank tops in other grain trucks and at the bikinis at the Lakeville City Pool.

His payment? Money, of course, but something extra special in addition: The keys to Barr's cabin at the Gilbert Place, an out-of-the-way site in the mountains behind Lakeville, only accessible with 4-wheel drive vehicles, and only accessible from two roads -- the one Bret was on now and another similar, remote, narrow, single-rutted road that led to Sandcreek, some 20 miles away. But on these types of roads, 20 miles was a good two hours.

It had been two weeks since Bret had spent the night with Monique Sellars, his prize cheerleader. And while the pair had flirted in school and even talked on the phone at night, they had not been alone together since. They had agreed to play it cool -- they would have their time together.

Lakeville had played its second game of the season the night before, winning at Ford Junction 34-0. It was an uneventful game -- and an uneventful ride home, as well. Monique and Bret exchanged greetings and naughty looks when she came on the bus after the game, but nothing ensued.

The coach had thought about inviting the cheerleader to the cabin, but then thought better of it. This wasn't his cabin. He had better not get in trouble with a student at someone else's cabin. All in good time, the coach thought. The sexy senior cheerleader had indeed been hot. They had fucked and sucked until 4 in the morning at which time Monique had to leave for her early-morning weekend job. They had pledged to do it again -- and again and again -- they just hadn't gotten the timing down right.

The cabin at the Gilbert Place had a stove, a counter top, a table with four chairs and a small bedroom with a double bed. The outhouse was behind the cabin by 20 yards or so, and there was a small open area for the parking of vehicles. Rusty Barr used the cabin for hunting -- in the years when it was accessible. Lately, it had been. The rains that oftentimes pelted the area in September hadn't come for a couple years, and Rusty was able to utilize the cabin into October.

On this September Saturday, it was unseasonably warm -- nearing 80 degrees. Bret had packed enough supplies for a single overnight trip, thinking he'd just relax, catch up on some reading, maybe hike the two miles further into the mountains to a small lake Barr had told him about.

The fishing in the lake was good, Rusty Barr said, but Bret hadn't packed his fishing pole. Maybe another time. All he wanted to do this weekend was relax, reflect on the good season the Raiders were having, maybe drink some beer or whiskey and get refreshed for the remainder of the school year and the remainder of the season.

Just ahead, a gate blocked further access, as Barr said it would. And it was a good thing the gate was there. Tire tracks were visible on either side of the road Bret was traveling. Obviously, someone -- or numerous someones -- had come up this road recently, looking to pass through the gate. Foiled by the padlock, they had turned around, but they had left their marks: Empty beer bottles and cans littered the area by the gate. Kids, Bret thought.

After unlocking the padlock with the key Rusty had afforded him, it was back into the Jeep for the final 3/4 of a mile, which seemed like forever on roads like this. In fact, it wasn't really a road at all. Grass was growing up on both sides of two tire ruts and also in the middle.

Definitely 4-wheel drive country. At last, the cabin appeared, and Bret sped off the trail onto the grassy clearing in front. He shut off the Jeep. There it would sit -- idle -- for the next two days until he headed back to Lakeville Sunday night. It didn't take long for the hot sun to rise above the trees and bake the cabin. Bret left both the front and back door open, hoping for a breeze, but all was still on this Saturday. Even the deer and elk Bret had seen while driving to the cabin had disappeared among the trees, searching for moisture and trying to stay cool.

After devouring a sandwich he had made in the cabin, Bret changed into shorts and a muscle shirt, grabbed a miniature cooler full of beer and headed for the lake, a two-mile hike, according to Rusty Barr. The first mile or so was rough. There was a road leading back to the lake, Rusty had said, but it was overgrown with weeds and tall grass.

Additionally, branches from nearby trees and overgrown bushes had nearly covered the road. Bret neared the place where the other nearly non-existent road, the one from Sandcreek, came in from the north. Strangely, the road seemed well traveled, or at least better traveled than the one he had been walking on. In fact, fresh tire tracks from what appeared to be a 4-wheel drive vehicle -- or maybe two vehicles -- could be seen. Perhaps more people knew about the back road and the lake than Rusty Barr thought.

The coach continued his hike until he was barely 200 yards from the lake. Around the bend he went, and as the lake came into view, so did three 4-wheel drive vehicles, two pick-ups with short beds and a Ford Explorer. Beer cans were now strewn about the trail, and Bret could hear voices in the distance. As he moved closer, he ducked into the trees. He could still travel toward the lake this way, but he wouldn't be seen. He had found the party place -- or at least one of them. He thought only special occasions must be held here.

This lake was 20 miles of rough sledding from Sandcreek -- and another 16 on the highway to Lakeville -- not necessarily a venue that high school kids would up and go to. No, this party had been planned, this party site discovered by someone, and either a very few select people had been invited or the bash was just beginning. Bret looked at his watch. It was high noon. He had found a high school kegger -- and in the middle of the day, too.

To Be Continued...