“Is that what happened to you, Abby?” Juliet whispered. “Yes. I wasn’t being careful.” Abby flexed her hand, definitely wishing she had been more cautious that day.
They both stepped onto and over the log without incident, but Bob seemed to disregard the instructions. He bounded along for a short way, almost disappearing from view, but turned back and walked behind Juliet again.
After half an hour or so, Abby stopped and she and Juliet looked around. The trail ahead rose steeply to continue up the side of Tank Hill, but Abby decided they’d better head back.
She needed to go up there herself, but figured it might be better to wait another few days. And to be sure to leave Juliet back at Site 3 with Millie. Probably not a good hike for a four- year-old and besides, she might have to overnight it and do some repairs up there.
“Come on, little one. Time to turn around. This time, you lead,” she told Juliet.
The little girl was beside herself with excitement. She carefully started walking, trying to remember everything Abby had told her earlier in the day. “Abby,” she said seriously, “If you need something, tug on my shirt, okay?”
Abby smiled. “Of course.”
They reached Site 1 without any problems; Abby was pleased to see that Juliet remembered the log and that she moved very, very quietly for a small child. Slowly too, as it turned out. It took them nearly twice as long to get back to the old fire pit.
They stopped for a few minutes to rest, and to take a few swallows of water, then headed back down the gravel road and out into the sunshine.
Back in Abby’s tent, Juliet took off her shoes and placed them precisely next to Abby’s boots. Then she climbed onto the cot next to Abby and handed her a book. “Will you read me a story, Abby?”
Nearly asleep by the end of the book, Juliet rolled over and closed her eyes. Abby stifled a yawn and strolled down to the shelter, in search of coffee.
Brad was there, also needing both a break and some caffeine. “Hey stranger!” he said. “How’s the snakebite?”
“A little stiff,” answered Abby. “But I’m ready for some action.”
“I heard you had plenty today—how’s the kid holding up?”
“She’s fine,” said Abby. “And, by the way, she has pretty good aim with that little Glock of hers. You might want to be careful . . .”
“Well,” Brad drawled, “I was doing some shooting myself at that age; I might be able to give her a run for her money.”
“Right, you Texans are all alike. Killed your first bear at age five, huh?”
“Naw,” retorted Brad. “My first buck, though.”
“Heathen.”
“Injun.”
Abby stuck out her tongue. “So, you got anything for me? Besides the tanks, that is?”
“How’d you know I wanted to start that next?”
“Lucky guess,” said Abby. “The grid will be going out any minute and the pumps will be down. If the tanks aren’t holding, none of your magic will keep water flowing. I’d hate to have to cart it in from the lake.”
“How soon can you go up there?”
“Day after tomorrow suit you okay?” Abby quickly calculated the supplies and tools she’d need to wrangle from Lorie and how soon she could pack. Plus, it wouldn’t hurt to give her shooting hand one more day to rest, just in case.
“Sure, that’ll work. Gotta run, see ya around.” Brad went back to his crew, busy winterizing the showers and commissary.
Abby went in search of Millie, and found her doing some mending in the tent she was sharing with Pops. Abby grinned. Such a domestic scene. Pops was on his cot, snoring away.
“Hey, Millie, how’s it going?” Abby sat down on the step. “Why, hello Abby! What in the world are you smiling about?” Millie tied off her thread and snipped the loose end. “Don’t you be thinking there’s any hanky-panky going on—mercy, I can’t ever get a good night’s sleep with that racket going on over in the corner.
“Is Juliet sleeping? What did you all do today?”
Abby told her about their adventures, including how impressed she was with the little girl’s aptitude. Then she told Millie about her upcoming trip, stressing that she’d likely be gone overnight but would be reachable by radio.
“Don’t you worry about us. I’ve been taking care of kids for a long time. Juliet’ll miss you, but she’ll be fine.”
Abby stayed for a short time, catching Mille up on Juliet’s sayings and doings, then walked back to her own tent. Juliet was just waking up.
Juliet helped Abby pack for her trip, asking question upon question as they worked. Abby showed her how to make a bedroll and told her what foods should be taken along; she covered the basics of radio transmissions when Juliet began to experiment with the two-way device. Abby found that the little girl was a good listener and after a while she realized she was talking more to herself. Juliet, however, seemed to take it all in, and was eager to learn.
The morning, as Abby set out, was cool and damp. She knew it would heat up as the day went on, probably about the time she reached the top of Tank Hill and there was less tree cover. In spite of the early hour, Ted had coffee on the fire and he wished Abby a safe journey.
From the back of Site 1, Abby began to climb the hill. It was steep and rocky, barely a visible path, so she unsheathed her knife and began to hack at the undergrowth. Some, she noticed with a mixture of pleasure and chagrin, were blackberry brambles. Two hours later she was nearing the summit and stopped to rest.
Suddenly, it all washed over her in unrelenting waves, memories, thoughts, grief. Abby sat down abruptly and dropped her head into her hands. She would not cry. Would not. No time, no inclination. Really. Besides, it made her nose stuffy and she certainly did not have time for that. Okay, girl, she told herself. Breathe.
Several minutes passed while Abby simply breathed and tried to relax her muscles. She closed her eyes and tried to picture a serene, joyful place; the same place she often revisited in her mind.
The problem was that the place was this place, in a different time, a different world. And so she simply remembered.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Seven-year-old Abby got out of the old Pontiac and looked for her friend, Emmy. There were girls milling all over the place, some crying, some clinging to their parents. Others ran up and down the path to the cabins, ignoring the counselors’ cries of “Walk, please!”
Abby scuffed the toe of her sneaker in the gravel parking area and looked down. She hoped Emmy would show up soon. She was used to being away from home, either on a vacation with her parents or staying with her dad for a weekend, but she wasn’t too sure about this camp place.
“Abigail,” said her mother, sharply. “Come here and get your suitcase!” Abby walked to the trunk of the car and hefted the suitcase, wondering what she was supposed to do with it. Just then, a counselor walked over and introduced herself.
“Hi,” she said. “My name’s Cal. What’s yours?”
“Um, Abby . . .”
Cal looked at her clipboard. “Okay, Abby, you’re in Cabin 1, with your friend Emmy. I believe she’s already here. Let’s go take a look, okay?”
Abby perked up a bit. She looked back at her mother, who made shooing motions with her hands and told the little girl that she’d be right there. Abby took Cal’s offered hand and they climbed the path.
Emmy was chattering away with a group of girls and Abby hung back, shyly. But Emmy saw her, and came right over. “Abby, I saved this bed for you! Here, give me your suitcase.” Emmy stowed it under the cot. “Now, you’re all set!”
Abby’s mother arrived, with her daughter’s sleeping bag and pillow, and Emmy took over making up the cot. “Yay! Come on, Abby, let’s go outside!” She grabbed Abby’s hand and pulled her out the door. Abby looked back, fleetingly, but her mother waved her along and said she’d write to her soon.
Abby and Emmy had a wonderful time that summer; they learned to swim, although Abby didn’t care much for t
he water, and they went hiking and had cookouts. They made crafts and went canoeing. Abby was sad to leave after just a week.
The next summer, the girls went back to camp. Abby was even more excited, riding in the “way back” of her parents’ new station wagon, watching the trees and hills go by as if they were moving and she was not. Her face brightened as they approached the shiny new camp gates, swung open in welcome, and a counselor checked off her name on the list.
That was the year they met Pops.
Abby and Emmy considered themselves experts on camp now, and they took turns telling all the “new girls” about their adventures. Abby still wasn’t as outgoing as Emmy, but she was rapidly coming out of her shell. It was her idea to go on a nighttime hike.
The girls sneaked some crackers and carrot sticks out of the dining hall at dinner one night; they hoarded some cookies from one of the other girl’s care packages, and soon had a small band of four willing to join in on the fun. Emmy set her travel alarm for 3:00 a.m. and stuck it under her pillow, so none of the counselors could hear it.
When the bell on the clock rang at the appointed hour, Abby was already sitting up in bed. She watched as Emmy fumbled underneath her pillow and shut off the alarm, then rolled back over, still sleeping. Abby pounced on her, shushing her quickly. “Come on, Em, get up! Let’s go!”
Emmy grumbled a little, but finally got up and put on her sneakers. All the girls had slept in their clothes so they’d make less noise getting ready. The six of them tiptoed outside, careful not to slam the screen door on the cabin. They started giggling as they climbed up the steep path, stumbling in the dark. They didn’t dare turn on flashlights just yet.
They hiked for what seemed like a long time. Abby thought that surely Pioneer Hill must be a mountain, reaching up to the sky. She’d been curious about it, though, and wondered what was at the top. The sun was just barely peeking through the early morning clouds when they reached the summit.
“Look!” said Abby, pointing in excitement. There were two shelters in a small clearing, three-sided, made from the native cedar trees. Abby trotted over to investigate, but the rest of the third-graders were tired indeed and sat down on the ground to rest. They huddled together in the morning chill and most of them appeared quite miserable and more than a little frightened.
Abby soon rejoined them and sat beside Emmy. “Now what?” she asked. The girls all looked at her, but no one spoke for a minute.
“I wanna go home,” one of them cried.
“I’m scared!”
“We’re lost!” wailed another.
Even Emmy looked a little less excited about the adventure than she had earlier. “We can go back, if you want.”
“But, where’s the path?” asked Michelle, a new girl.
The girls looked all around. Try as they might, no one could find the exact spot. Finally, Abby pointed. “There.” They all stood up and started for the trail, but Abby stopped. “Let’s keep going, over that way!” She started walking east.
“No way,” said Michelle. “I’m tired and I don’t like this and we’re going to get in trouble!” She looked at the others and they nodded in agreement.
Emmy ran back to Abby. “I’ll go with you, Abby. Let them go back if they want. Let’s have some fun!”
Michelle and her group started down the hill; they eagerly crashed through the brush, trying to hurry without appearing to be as scared as they felt.
Abby and Emmy set off past the shelters. The sun was fully up now and it shone down through the leafy trees, brightening Abby’s golden braids. Emmy followed, looking around, trying to identify the many bird calls. Abby didn’t like birds. She was concentrating, however, on the trail in front of her and trying to walk silently, like an Indian. The day before, their group had had a session with a counselor named Meg who told them all about the Indians who used to live there.
After an hour or so, Abby realized that the trail was dropping; they were going down the other side of the hill. She stopped, and so did Emmy. “I’m hungry,” Abby said. “Let’s stop for a few minutes.” The girls dug some cookies out of their pockets and tried to decide what to do next.
“Abby, do you think we’re really going to be in trouble?” asked Emmy. “I mean, I’m having fun and all, but . . .”
“Yeah,” Abby replied. “But, hey, as long as we’re already in trouble, we may as well keep going, right?”
“Well, yeah,” answered Emmy, “But we’ve been gone a long time.”
“Yep. Probably, oh, half a day or so,” said Abby, wildly overestimating their travels. It was actually about 8:30, the time the rest of their group would normally be finishing breakfast and starting their activities for the day. Neither of them had a watch and they hadn’t yet learned to depend on the sun or the stars for figuring either time or location.
“Hey, let’s go this way for a while,” Abby exclaimed, pointing east again. The trail they’d been following had begun to wind in a northerly direction, as well as descending, and Abby was up for more adventure. She focused for a moment and pictured the layout of the camp. She was pretty sure that, if they stayed on the current path, they’d end up in another part of camp. She wanted to see something new, something different.
And she was correct. If they had continued on that same path, they would have found themselves within minutes of another group of girls, safe and sound. And Cal would not have sent searchers out to look for them. And they would have been in a lot less trouble.
Abby shook her head, rubbed her eyes, and gathered her thoughts. Time to push on if she wanted to reach the top by lunchtime and set up camp. Funny how, all those years ago, she and Emmy had approached this same spot by very nearly the same trail.
And, of course, meeting Pops for the first time. Abby remembered, smiling, how she and Emmy had finally stopped from sheer exhaustion. They’d somehow traveled into midafternoon that day, reaching the top of Tank Hill, where they both promptly fell asleep.
Which is why they never heard the shouts of the search parties.
When the pair had awakened, they were starving; the cookies were long gone, they’d even resorted to eating the carrots at some point. They’d wondered aloud if they’d ever be found, or doomed to wander forever…and then they heard the noise.
Whatever it was, it was coming closer and it sounded big. Like maybe a grizzly! Abby chuckled at the memory. There were no grizzlies in Missouri; no monsters either, which they’d also imagined in their heightened state of fear.
“Well, well,” said a deep voice. “Looky what I found!” An older man climbed down off his sorrel gelding, which stamped its foot impatiently. “I’m assuming you two must be Abby and Emmy. My, my, but there are a lot of folks out looking for you.” He picked up his two-way radio. “Break 1-4. Pops here. I got your munchkins. We’re up here on Tank. Be down shortly.”
He clicked off after receiving confirmation and looked at the two girls. “Come on, then. Let’s get you back downstairs.” He loaded Abby and Emmy onto his pack horse, Sara he called her, and both girls burst into tears.
Abby shook her head again, as if to clear the memories. She really had to get moving, and she did; this time, no more stopping and no more thinking. She had a job to do, in the here and now.
But she did chuckle when she recalled just how very much trouble they’d gotten into that day.
Abby finally approached the old water tanks, warily, as the sun shone directly overhead. She circled them, watchful and on edge, finally convinced that the area was relatively safe. The ladders were tested, carefully, and as long as she was up there she pulled out the binoculars to scan the immediate vicinity. She paid special attention to both the east and the south, as her location was on the very edge of the property.
As instructed, Abby radioed into check with Meg. “It’s Abby. Here and clear.”
“Great, Ab! How’s it look?”
“Fine so far. I should be down by noon tomorrow, but I’ll check back tonight after dinner.”
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“Sounds good. Meg out.”
Abby clicked off as well and made camp. She set her bedroll under a nearby cedar; she liked the smell and the low branches would keep off the heaviest of the morning dew. She cleared a small area for a fire. She wouldn’t need much, just the right size for a coffeepot. It would cool off overnight, but not enough to need a very big fire and it was still pretty dry. She wouldn’t risk keeping it burning all night.
Abby found a few rocks to frame her fire pit and gathered some nearby deadwood, sorting it into three stacks by thickness and length. After digging out her lunch package, which Ted had handed to her this morning, she set her backpack next the bedroll and ate lunch. Resisting the urge for a beer, knowing she’d get sleepy, she popped open a Pepsi for the caffeine and ended her meal with a smoke.
Smiling again at the memory of her and Emmy’s last adventure up here, Abby got to work. There were two huge galvanized water tanks, set close together. She inspected each one carefully, then pulled out a blowtorch and began the laborious task of resealing the seams.
It was hot work, necessitating several water breaks but, by late afternoon, Abby was finished and the tanks were freshly sealed. She was thankful that the tops were intact, since crawling around on blazing steel was sure to result in burns to various body parts; besides, she simply wasn’t into perching that high off the ground without a decent handhold.
Darkness came later up here than it did in the valley, so Abby started her fire before exploring the weeds at the base of the tanks. Within a few minutes she found the pipes leading out and down to the pump house below, in the main part of the camp near Site 1. She’d follow those downhill in the morning, checking for leaks and breaks.
Abby stretched out by her little fire and opened a beer. It wasn’t very cold, but good just the same. She lit a smoke and was thinking about dinner when her radio crackled to life. “Abby, you there?” It was Meg, and she sounded upset. Abby grabbed the radio and pushed the talk button.
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