Wild Child Read online

  “Hey, Ellie. Pretty early for our first date, don’t you think?”

  Kimball’s gaze fluttered to Devin and his smile ebbed ever-so-slightly. I didn’t turn around to see what Devin’s reaction was because it didn’t matter.

  “Early? I’ve been up for hours,” I quipped lightly and let the weird date comment slide.

  A burly man sat in the passenger seat. He had mousey colored hair, a soft beard, and barely folded his broad body into the SUV. His hazel eyes had a quiet look about them when his gaze connected with mine, then dropped.

  “This is Steve.” Kimball motioned with a dismissive wave. “He’s coming, too.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I said, then pointed to Devin. “This is Devin. He’s going as a guide with me. No extra charge,” I added quickly when a weird look crossed his face. “So if you need anything, either of us is here for you. Are you ready to get started?”

  Kimball and Steve exchanged a glance, then Kimball nodded. “Uh, yeah. Sure. Let us just gather our stuff in here, then we’ll pull our gear out of the back.”

  There was a true sense of excitement in his eyes, and that meant a lot. These mountains were my world. I felt honored to give him a tour through the most beautiful country I’d ever seen. A bright mood settled on my shoulders. Knowing I was going to be in my mountains liberated me from the baggage with Devin I’d clung to lately. This would be my first real step into the life I had planned, and it sent a shot of energy through my body.

  I slapped the side of the truck. “Don’t worry about that. Just follow us, and we’ll start at the trailhead.”

  This guide was going to be just fine. The hike would be lovely this time of year. The weather forecast was perfect, and Devin was here as an . . . acquaintance. Friend. Whatever. There he’d stay until we parted again when he went back to his life, and I went to mine, where I could be safe from ever going through losing him again.

  I’d see to it.

  8

  Devin

  This guide was going to be a disaster.

  Ellie had an unusual sense of optimism about her as she started the outfitter’s truck and drove off. Her jaw was set, evidently deep in thought. She didn't seem to notice the two creepy guys in the SUV who weren’t keen to have me be a part of this guide. Kimball was fit enough, but Steve was an absolute tank. That alone had set my teeth on edge. Why would two thirty-something guys like them need a guide to go into the mountains?

  This math didn’t add up.

  "We'll take them up the Nightingale Pass in three days," she said, more to herself than to me. "That'll give them some acclimation time with the altitude."

  Maybe she didn't want to see the truth: these were two guys who probably hoped to win her over and then score big. Although in their mid-thirties, neither of them appeared overly ambitious with cardio. Steve had too much brawn for long-distance, and I doubted they would make it to the trailhead over the pass. Not in three days. And I seriously doubted whether they cared if the view was breathtaking or not.

  In my mind, they had their sights on Ellie. Based on his attention at the gym, and the startled look on his face when she introduced me, the only view Kimball wanted was of her.

  With a sigh, I peered at the fading darkness. Maybe I'd be wrong. I hoped so. She seemed intent on this going well, as if one guide determined the rest of her future. But that had always been Ellie. All in or all out.

  My thoughts had all jumbled together over the last couple of days. Sitting next to her in the same truck she’d driven in high school didn’t help. Slamming an ax into sun-hardened wood for three hours at Adventura had been the therapy I’d needed because I just wasn’t ready to talk about deployment yet. Eventually, I would. I had to. I knew that.

  But not yet.

  The easy dinner that followed with Mark, JJ, Lizbeth, and a few of their camp counselors loosened me the rest of the way. Their counselors didn’t know me, so they didn’t ask deployment questions. Instead, we talked about the camp. Expectations for how things would continue to grow. Where the counselors were from. JJ served up a too-delicious cake and everything had felt normal.

  For the first time.

  But Daniel’s call and plea for help the next morning had started my brain back up after the first full night’s sleep I’d had since returning. Now, I was back with Ellie.

  And she wanted nothing to do with me.

  The word acquaintance rang back through my head. Had she even said the word friend once? Yes. After the canoe. But cold reality had settled in between then and now, and her walls were back up. Way up. She’d seemed calm enough in our short discussion about the guide, but panic lived in her eyes.

  What was an acquaintance anyway?

  We’d never been acquaintances, not even when we first met. The moment I saw her for the first time, she’d grabbed my hand, pulled me outside, and we’d scoured the mud in search of worms and lures for hours.

  So what was there to panic about?

  “I don’t know if it needs to be pointed out," I said, "but I’ve learned my lesson after not telling you everything I should have. I appreciate clear communication more than ever, so I’m going to say what's on my mind. Hope that's okay.”

  My words broke the silence, which had been slightly strained. Her knuckles tightened on the steering wheel and her face illuminated with the bouncing glow of the headlights behind us. With her hair pulled back on her head in a messy bun, she reminded me of high school all over again.

  When she said nothing, I continued.

  “I’m not here to cause problems or be the man in charge or whatever else. You’re in charge. I’ll do what you ask, and I’ll give my thoughts when you ask. Other than that, I’m here to keep any idiots from doing idiotic things. Is there anything else you want to add to my list of responsibilities?”

  Her fingers loosened.

  “No.”

  “Anything you want to say?”

  She cast me a sidelong glance. “I’ve already decided on a route, itinerary, and some options for camping. Steve looks kind of . . . not ready for this . . . so I don’t know how far we’ll get at first, but we can work with that. Daniel already gave Kimball a tent and did his usual lecture on packing. I’m not sure about Steve.”

  My teeth ached from clenching so hard.

  "You don’t have to be silent," she continued. "You can make suggestions or help. I just . . . I need this to convince Daniel that I could take more of these guides. This is my chance to get into guiding bigger adventures with more options. This first one has to prove my skill.”

  “Got it.”

  She opened her mouth to speak again, then closed it. “Thank you.”

  I nodded, and we stopped talking. Darkness passed on either side of us in flashes of vague trees and creeks. Ellie drove us into a north-south canyon that would soon turn to a dirt road. An hour of winding hills that vaguely followed a river would take us to a turn-off that few people knew about. Then we’d drive on a vague two-track, let the trucks go as far as they could, and hike into a beautiful, lush meadow that afforded a striking view of the still-snowy peaks. I reached for my left shoulder. No tightness. I’d walked around with the pack for half an hour last night, and the injury hadn’t flared up.

  A good sign.

  As easy as Ellie’s plan sounded—and as simple as I knew the terrain to be because Ellie and I had been there several times before—I doubted it would go well. My natural optimism had faded dramatically over the last three years.

  Deployments had a way of shoving you into reality.

  Ellie would get her reality soon enough. These men weren't here to prove her as a guide. They wouldn't want to hike the way she'd probably very meticulously planned. I was here to make sure she ended this trip safely, even if the end result didn’t meet her expectations. I couldn’t give her much these days.

  But I could give her that.

  9

  Ellie

  The scent of pine thickened the air when we rolled to a stop at t
he edge of a two-track road. Light warmed the far edge of the sky, washing the clouds overhead in pink, but the sun hadn't risen above the peaks yet.

  A trail hidden in the trees wound through foothills and ridges for a couple of miles, then would end on a secluded mountain meadow. We’d camp there for the night. It would keep us off the road and away from other hikers.

  “Want me to hide the keys under the truck when they aren’t looking?” Dev asked, one hand on the doorknob. “Like we used to?”

  “Oh, no.” I fingered the keys against my palm, ready to jump out of the cab. “We can take them with us. That’s what . . . it’s what I do now. I don’t leave them with the truck like we did when we were teenagers.”

  “Right.” He nodded once, as if pretending we both didn’t feel totally awkward that something he’d taught me hadn’t carried through. “Got it.”

  Devin slipped out of the truck, and I followed suit. Kimball hurried out of his SUV with a smile, then stepped back to study his door. He rubbed a few spots off the paint with his palm, seemed relieved nothing had been permanently marred, and headed for the back. Steve followed him without saying anything.

  "Devin and I will walk at the back," I said to them as they finished strapping on their packs. "That allows you to set the pace so it's not too strenuous. We'll follow a trail for four or five miles before an incline at the end, so go at whatever pace will preserve your energy. We can decide what you want to do after that."

  Kimball squinted as he peered into the foliage, which still held onto shadows. Next to me, Devin adjusted his pack on his shoulders.

  "Sounds good," Kimball finally said. "Steve, you take the lead."

  Steve stepped onto the trail and started up the path without once looking at any of us. I glanced back in wordless question and Devin shrugged with one shoulder. He'd bring up the very end, and I felt good about that. He knew to keep an eye on our backs.

  "Where are we going again?" Kimball asked. He'd stopped to tilt his head back and regard the forested mountains that rolled out on either side.

  "You gave no clear itinerary when you talked to Daniel," I said, “so I thought about a place called Nightingale Peak. It’s a mountain pass two days hike away. I planned on getting us there before our third night. We'll summit the pass, then head back down the same way we came up."

  He made a noise in his throat. When I glanced back, Devin had an eye on Kimball, but I couldn't read his expression. Up the trail a bit, Steve had stopped to look back.

  "I heard rumors in town about an old, haunted cabin up here somewhere," Kimball said without moving. "Some trapper that lived here in the 1800's. Do you know anything about that?"

  Devin's brow furrowed. He'd lived here his whole life, and so had his parents. If there were rumors of anything like that, the Blaine's would know it.

  "I haven't heard of that," I said. "Not at Nightingale pass."

  "Could be kind of cool.” Kimball paused. “They said it was somewhere around Granite Ridge?"

  Despite wracking my brain, I couldn't figure out if those words were familiar. "Doesn't ring a bell," I said.

  "You got a map?"

  I nodded. Kimball waved an arm. "Then we can look at it tonight, not a big deal. Let's proceed as you planned. Can't wait."

  With that, he trudged on. I hesitated for only a moment before I followed a few steps behind him. My thoughts whirred for a moment until I turned around and mouthed to Devin, "Granite Ridge?"

  His brow furrowed when he shook his head and mouthed, "Idiots," back.

  Something in the offhand comment from Kimball unsettled me. Did he even know what mountains we were in? His awareness of such a place seemed . . . odd. Particularly for an out-of-towner. If he wanted to check out a specific cabin, why didn’t he tell Daniel when we started the guide? From what little I knew of Kimball while talking to him at the gym, he was only visiting for a few weeks and hadn’t been here before.

  I knew these mountains as well as anyone except Daniel, who tracked herds of animals through these hills as a hobby and had been hiking here for over fifty years. I'd heard of almost every interesting point and knew most ridges like the back of my hand. Mountains were tricky that way, though. Get too close and you would lose all perspective. Their indomitable heights hid behind lesser peaks that would fool you for days before you realized that what you thought was your tallest challenge was nothing but a step on the path to it.

  "You good, Steve?" I called after twenty minutes had passed.

  He held up a hand, his back to us, and kept going. For such a large man, he held his own pretty well. I studied him from the back. His shirt hung loose, and so did the skin around his neck, as if he’d lost weight recently. A strange silence fell on the group as we continued on, at odds with the usual, bright chatter most groups maintained.

  By nature, I wasn't a talkative person. The day-trip groups that I'd guided so far most often kept up conversation amongst themselves or would ask me questions along the way. Daniel would keep a steady flow of facts about wildflowers, trees, and weather in the mountains. To this crowd, however, I felt no desire to speak, and no idea what they'd want to hear if we did.

  But should I?

  The debate over whether or not my role as guide required me to talk about useless facts or keep up information waged in my head and kept me occupied for almost an hour. If I did need to do that for five days, that would dramatically lessen my enjoyment of these trips.

  "So," Kimball called, moments before I felt obligated to give some random facts about avalanches in the area. "How long have you two known each other?"

  Thankfully, my pack hid the sudden stiffness in my shoulders from Devin, and Steve and Kimball faced away from me. Although I wasn't sure what I expected them to ask, questions about me and Devin weren't it.

  "Our whole lives," I finally said when I realized Devin wasn't going to reply. The words we used to be best friends almost followed, but it sounded too trite. Almost like a punishment, particularly when Devin had expressed interest in being friends again. In the end, not knowing what to say, I left it at that.

  "Cool. You hike a lot?"

  "I do," I said. I couldn’t speak for Devin anymore, could I?

  Devin remained quiet. Kimball didn't push him, and I was grateful. Annoyance burned hot in me. Seriously? I wanted to say to Devin. You can't just answer the question? Before the lacking reply could make things awkward, Kimball picked the conversation back up.

  "You look military to me, Dev," Kimball called. "You in the service?"

  Kimball’s casual use of my nickname for Devin curled my toes, but I let it pass. Devin wouldn’t like him being that familiar either, I would imagine.

  "Yeah,” Dev replied.

  Relief that he'd responded, even so minutely, slipped through me. I’d take it as a step in the right direction. Kimball made a sound in his throat. I stepped off the trail to peer ahead of Kimball's bulky backpack. Steve continued in the lead, but his pace had slowed a little as we faced a gentle incline. Sweat ringed his arms and neck. He panted, but didn't seem inclined to stop. The pace he set was steady, but not impressively fast. Exactly what I'd expected from a thirty-something guy unaccustomed to the altitude.

  "How do the two of you know each other?" I asked as I stepped back onto the trail.

  Kimball chuckled. "Steve and I met on a dare with some friends, actually, and have spent a lot of time together since then. We both wanted to see what we thought of the mountains." He spread his arms. "And here we are."

  "Oh. Where are you from?"

  "Lots of places.”

  His vague response left empty air that I struggled to know how to fill. In the end, I didn't need to.

  "Doing good, Stevie boy?” Kimball asked. He reached forward, close enough now to clap Steve on the shoulder, then give him a shove that seemed just a bit too forceful. "We don't want a girl to out-hike you."

  My teeth gritted at the sexist remark, and I wanted to snap back, "I'll out-hike you any day you a
rrogant swine.” My future as a guide depended on my professionalism, so I bit it back.

  Not surprisingly, the conversation fell flat for the next hour.

  "You doing all right, Steve?"

  That afternoon, Steve waved a vague hand from where he stood at a burbling stream, doubled over and dry heaving. Bright red splotches colored his face, and one of his water bottles lay empty on the ground next to him. He dunked a kerchief back in the water, then wiped his face off and left the soaked material across the back of his neck. We’d been hiking for six hours. He’d grown more uncomfortable and fatigued every hour, but hadn’t complained.

  My shoulders were ready for a break as I dropped my pack and reached for a water bottle. Devin stopped behind me with a little grunt of pain. He grimaced when he dropped his pack, then moved his left shoulder in a few circles. Did it bother him? His bag was heavier than mine by at least fifty pounds.

  Kimball lay in the grass and stared up at the sky. "Quiet up here," he murmured, then frowned. "Kinda weird."

  Weird wasn't my preferred description of the peaceful, gentle calm, but not everyone appreciated the mountains, so I let that go.

  "How much longer until we get to the pass?" Kimball asked.

  "Two days from now is the earliest," I said, "but it's harder going up, so we may need more time."

  "If we keep going today, will that help?"

  "Well, yes."

  "Good. We'll take a short break, then keep going."

  He said it so easily, as if his friend wasn’t gasping on the rock next to him after retching his stomach dry.

  "At the rate we've maintained today," I said, "I'd plan on arriving at the pass the day after tomorrow. We'll come down much faster than we ascend, so it'll keep us within the five-day window."