Sierra was speechless. Awestruck. “What a badass!”
“Those old boys were big and nasty. They could have rushed her, walked right through that shot and taken her down.”
“But she shot them first.”
“Well, one of ’em anyway. The shots brought me and Cal. It would’a been smarter to get us first.”
“And the little camper girl?” Sierra asked.
“Scared to death but otherwise unharmed. She was separated from her family on the trail north of Leadville and they grabbed her. I never heard of such a thing happening around here before.”
“That’s creepy, Sully. It’s not safe out there?”
“Up to that moment I’d have said there’s no safer place than our trails. I hear there’s a lot more Forest Service people out there these days than there used to be, on account of that incident. You got anything to protect yourself with?”
“I have a little can of pepper spray...the kind single women in the city are known to carry...” There were times she considered a handgun but in the end she was afraid to arm herself too much. What if she was incapacitated and it was used against her?
“Might have to fix you up with some real mace, just for my own peace of mind.”
“Should I stop hiking alone?”
He shook his head. “You’re not very alone. There are hikers out there, more of ’em every day. Just don’t get too far away.”
The mace appeared a few days later but Sierra was a little more vigilant, knowing that story. She admired Maggie more than ever. That’s what Sierra had always thought she was, had always aspired to be—a fighter. A fearless, ninja warrior. And it did seem the trails grew more crowded, especially on the weekends. She assumed summer would be nearly hectic for the wilderness.
Meanwhile, she enjoyed nature more than she ever had before. A herd of elk must have taken up residence on a piece of grazing land nearby because she saw some in the campground in the early, early mornings. And of course there were deer now and then, making her drive to Timberlake very cautious. With her work hours beginning right after dawn, she was bound to see a lot of wildlife, something that made the start of her day very special.
Now that the weather was warmer, she and Sully were taking their morning coffee on the front porch. Since he had the pot on before the crack of dawn and she had to leave for the diner by six fifteen, this became their morning ritual. She found herself rolling out of bed early even on days she didn’t have to work at the diner. Sully was reaching a part of her that had long been neglected. She kept very close track of her hours of helping around the store and grounds, proud to note that she was more than deserving of that free cabin. She was at the Crossing afternoons during the week and spent almost all weekend there. She could tell it worked out for Sully, since the campground was busiest then. And she still had time for herself and to check on Cal’s progress.
The last weekend in April the campground was over half-full of cheerful, enthusiastic campers. The wildflowers were in full glory, the lake was still icy cold but it didn’t scare off boaters or even some floaters. There were lots of kids, some dogs that Beau watched very carefully, but they were either friendly family dogs or they were penned and leashed. Beau didn’t mind sharing his territory with the occasional friend; there was a chocolate Lab who Sully said was a regular guest and she liked to swim with Beau. They played havoc on the ducks.
A family appeared with a fifth wheel on Friday afternoon who were new to Sully but he took notice of them right away because the nine-year-old boy behaved a bit oddly. Sully said he might be autistic. He clung close to his mother but seemed to concentrate on his fingers and mutter all the time. There was a little girl, maybe five years old, who had much more energy and attentiveness than her brother, and a golden retriever pup around a year old. The golden was trapped in a kennel that was much too small for her and when she was let out, she was wild and crazy. The man couldn’t handle her, had her in a choke collar that he pulled on relentlessly, shouting, “Down! Down! Molly get down! Sit! Sit!” Then he would just chain her to the trailer and she’d strain against her leash.
The mother, Anne, and the kids were exploring and playing by the lake, but the father, Chad, preferred his lounge chair under the camper’s canopy. The dog spent far too much time in the too-small kennel and her break time was limited to being chained. She was never taken for a run or a walk. And she had a lot to say, barking and whining. Well, she was confined all the time and didn’t get any attention or exercise and she was still a pup, though nearly full grown.
Chad constantly yelled at the dog. He was, in fact, more irritating than the animal. “Molly! Shut up!”
His name was Chad Petersen and he was on Sierra’s wrong side right off. He had a big fancy trailer but he clearly wasn’t camping for recreation, but for relaxation. He was overly friendly, had a big laugh and a loud voice, was very social with his neighbors and always had a beer in his hand. His wife was the one who took the kids walking to the base of the mountains to pick flowers or the edge of the lake where they could play with other children. It was his wife who put out the dinner and turned the burgers on the grill and fed the dog. It was Anne who picked up the dog droppings.
And when the dog got on Chad’s nerves she was stuffed into that too-small kennel. Molly whimpered and whined to be let out.
On Saturday afternoon Sully wandered down to the lake where Anne and the children were. He talked to a few of the women there, including Anne, and when he came back to the store, he reported what he’d learned. “Their boy is autistic, like I figured. He’s real antisocial. His dad thought a puppy would help—bring out his personality—even though his wife told him it might have the opposite effect. She’s not a service animal, for God’s sake. And now that the dog is big and dumb as a puppy, Petersen is frustrated and short-tempered and rather than admit he might’ve been wrong, he’s determined to whip that puppy into shape. I might’ve editorialized that last part, but ain’t it just obvious?”
“Those old boys were big and nasty. They could have rushed her, walked right through that shot and taken her down.”
“But she shot them first.”
“Well, one of ’em anyway. The shots brought me and Cal. It would’a been smarter to get us first.”
“And the little camper girl?” Sierra asked.
“Scared to death but otherwise unharmed. She was separated from her family on the trail north of Leadville and they grabbed her. I never heard of such a thing happening around here before.”
“That’s creepy, Sully. It’s not safe out there?”
“Up to that moment I’d have said there’s no safer place than our trails. I hear there’s a lot more Forest Service people out there these days than there used to be, on account of that incident. You got anything to protect yourself with?”
“I have a little can of pepper spray...the kind single women in the city are known to carry...” There were times she considered a handgun but in the end she was afraid to arm herself too much. What if she was incapacitated and it was used against her?
“Might have to fix you up with some real mace, just for my own peace of mind.”
“Should I stop hiking alone?”
He shook his head. “You’re not very alone. There are hikers out there, more of ’em every day. Just don’t get too far away.”
The mace appeared a few days later but Sierra was a little more vigilant, knowing that story. She admired Maggie more than ever. That’s what Sierra had always thought she was, had always aspired to be—a fighter. A fearless, ninja warrior. And it did seem the trails grew more crowded, especially on the weekends. She assumed summer would be nearly hectic for the wilderness.
Meanwhile, she enjoyed nature more than she ever had before. A herd of elk must have taken up residence on a piece of grazing land nearby because she saw some in the campground in the early, early mornings. And of course there were deer now and then, making her drive to Timberlake very cautious. With her work hours beginning right after dawn, she was bound to see a lot of wildlife, something that made the start of her day very special.
Now that the weather was warmer, she and Sully were taking their morning coffee on the front porch. Since he had the pot on before the crack of dawn and she had to leave for the diner by six fifteen, this became their morning ritual. She found herself rolling out of bed early even on days she didn’t have to work at the diner. Sully was reaching a part of her that had long been neglected. She kept very close track of her hours of helping around the store and grounds, proud to note that she was more than deserving of that free cabin. She was at the Crossing afternoons during the week and spent almost all weekend there. She could tell it worked out for Sully, since the campground was busiest then. And she still had time for herself and to check on Cal’s progress.
The last weekend in April the campground was over half-full of cheerful, enthusiastic campers. The wildflowers were in full glory, the lake was still icy cold but it didn’t scare off boaters or even some floaters. There were lots of kids, some dogs that Beau watched very carefully, but they were either friendly family dogs or they were penned and leashed. Beau didn’t mind sharing his territory with the occasional friend; there was a chocolate Lab who Sully said was a regular guest and she liked to swim with Beau. They played havoc on the ducks.
A family appeared with a fifth wheel on Friday afternoon who were new to Sully but he took notice of them right away because the nine-year-old boy behaved a bit oddly. Sully said he might be autistic. He clung close to his mother but seemed to concentrate on his fingers and mutter all the time. There was a little girl, maybe five years old, who had much more energy and attentiveness than her brother, and a golden retriever pup around a year old. The golden was trapped in a kennel that was much too small for her and when she was let out, she was wild and crazy. The man couldn’t handle her, had her in a choke collar that he pulled on relentlessly, shouting, “Down! Down! Molly get down! Sit! Sit!” Then he would just chain her to the trailer and she’d strain against her leash.
The mother, Anne, and the kids were exploring and playing by the lake, but the father, Chad, preferred his lounge chair under the camper’s canopy. The dog spent far too much time in the too-small kennel and her break time was limited to being chained. She was never taken for a run or a walk. And she had a lot to say, barking and whining. Well, she was confined all the time and didn’t get any attention or exercise and she was still a pup, though nearly full grown.
Chad constantly yelled at the dog. He was, in fact, more irritating than the animal. “Molly! Shut up!”
His name was Chad Petersen and he was on Sierra’s wrong side right off. He had a big fancy trailer but he clearly wasn’t camping for recreation, but for relaxation. He was overly friendly, had a big laugh and a loud voice, was very social with his neighbors and always had a beer in his hand. His wife was the one who took the kids walking to the base of the mountains to pick flowers or the edge of the lake where they could play with other children. It was his wife who put out the dinner and turned the burgers on the grill and fed the dog. It was Anne who picked up the dog droppings.
And when the dog got on Chad’s nerves she was stuffed into that too-small kennel. Molly whimpered and whined to be let out.
On Saturday afternoon Sully wandered down to the lake where Anne and the children were. He talked to a few of the women there, including Anne, and when he came back to the store, he reported what he’d learned. “Their boy is autistic, like I figured. He’s real antisocial. His dad thought a puppy would help—bring out his personality—even though his wife told him it might have the opposite effect. She’s not a service animal, for God’s sake. And now that the dog is big and dumb as a puppy, Petersen is frustrated and short-tempered and rather than admit he might’ve been wrong, he’s determined to whip that puppy into shape. I might’ve editorialized that last part, but ain’t it just obvious?”
