Aspen in Moonlight

by Kelly Wacker

  After her lunchtime solitude, arriving in Buckhorn was a jarring experience. Traffic into the downtown area was backed up. The main street wasn’t big, just five blocks long, but it was densely packed with restaurants and small shops selling souvenirs, clothing, candy, and ice cream to the tourists thronging the streets or driving around looking for a place to park. Flanking downtown was an equally busy shopping center with a hardware store and an outfitter, and offering groceries and pizza.

  Unfortunately, Melissa had to drive through the congestion to reach Buckhorn Creek Ranch, but at least the scenery was picturesque. With a backdrop of mountain peaks, the town was festooned with baskets of blooming flowers hanging from light posts and brightly colored banners bearing iconic images associated with the town—a gold miner, a hiker, a kayaker, a fisherman, and various large animals, including elk and bears.

  She lowered the car windows as she rolled through town, the traffic at a slow creep and the air cooler here. The strong scent of sugar that wafted in surprised her. She looked around and saw, on one side of the street, a candy store selling freshly made caramel popcorn and fudge, and on the other side, a taffy shop with an old taffy puller in the front window rotating slowly, stretching out a sticky blue confection.

  So much for pure mountain air, she thought, while resisting the urge to look for a place to park so she could buy a sweet treat.

  After she finally made it to the other side of town, she turned north on to Big Creek Road. Her directions said that the entrance to the guest ranch would be well marked five miles down the road. As the road gained in elevation, the forest became thicker and the trees bigger. A sign on the right side of the road welcomed her: “Howdy! You’re almost at the Buckhorn Creek Ranch. Next Left.”

  In a quarter of a mile Melissa turned left on to a gravel road, driving across a cattle guard—an open trench covered with metal bars to prevent cows from crossing. She passed under a metal sign decorated with a “rocking BC” brand suspended between two tall posts. A sign along the side of the road stated that the riding stables were open to the public and directed guests to register at the ranch lodge half a mile ahead.

  A second sign a little farther down the road featured an image of a serious-looking Smokey Bear holding a shovel in one hand and a sign: “Fire Danger Today.” An adjustable arrow pointed to the green bar indicating a low threat level.

  The road descended through the trees into a lush green meadow featuring a cluster of buildings, barns, and rows of small cabins that she recognized from the photos on the website. She pulled up to the large log building identified as the lodge. Baskets of multicolored petunias hung from the edge of the porch roof, and rocking chairs were lined up on either side of the front door. A sunburned man dressed in hiking shorts and a T-shirt sat in one of the chairs, staring at the screen of his cell phone and seeming oblivious to the world.

  As Melissa walked up the steps, something buzzed past her ear, and she jerked back. She heard the chatter of hummingbirds and noticed a dozen or so of the tiny birds zipping around, feeding on the flowers and a feeder.

  “Don’t mind them.” A stout gray-haired woman pushed open the screen door. “They’re territorial little bastards, but they won’t hurt you.”

  “Oh, I’m not afraid of them. They just took me by surprise.”

  “Good. You’d be amazed at the number of people who are afraid of birds, even tiny ones,” the woman said and then held out her hand. “Welcome to Buckhorn Creek Ranch. I’m Betty Andersen. I’m guessing you’re Melissa. You’re the last person we’ve got scheduled to check in today.”

  “I am.” Melissa smiled and took her hand. Betty Andersen had a firm handshake. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  Betty invited her into the lodge and offered her something to drink, which Melissa politely declined, explaining that she had water in the car. She was trying to stay hydrated to avoid getting a headache from the low humidity and high altitude. The long room was typical of a mountain lodge: a lengthy, high-ceilinged room with exposed log posts and beams. A large river-rock fireplace dominated one end, with elk antlers mounted on the wall above the mantel. In front of the fireplace was a common area with comfortable-looking, dark-brown leather chairs and rustic pine tables and chairs. Several bookcases were jammed full of paperback books and board games. A woman and two children, a boy and a girl, were sitting at one of the tables playing a card game. The woman looked up at her and smiled, while the kids kept their noses pointed toward their cards. There was no television in sight.

  “Come this way and we’ll get you situated.” Betty pointed to the other end of the room with her thumb toward a doorway over which hung a hand-carved and painted sign of two black bears holding up a sign that said “office.” She sat down behind an old oak desk holding a computer and neatly arranged file folders and gestured for Melissa to sit in one of the chairs in front of it. Framed photographs of mountain peaks and meadows in summer and winter and a calendar, compliments of the Buckhorn Feed & Seed, with a picture of horses running across a field, adorned the walls. “Did you have a good trip? Georgia’s an awfully long drive.”

  “I had a great trip. Thanks for asking. I didn’t drive straight through. I stopped in Welch, where I grew up, to visit my parents for a few days.”

  “Ah.” Betty nodded. She slid on a pair of tortoiseshell reading glasses and glanced at the computer monitor on her desk. After she made a few mouse clicks, the printer behind her started churning out pages. “You’re a native that got transplanted elsewhere.”

  “It comes with my occupation. I’m a college professor. We’re like highly educated migrant workers and go where the jobs are.”

  “Do you like it down South?” Betty asked, pulling sheets from the printer.

  “I do. I like my school and my students. I’m really fortunate since there are so many qualified people and not very many full-time jobs.”

  “Good jobs anywhere are hard to find these days, it seems, and to have one that you love?” Betty grunted. “That’s always been rare.”

  “I would think this would be a job to love.” Melissa waved her hands in the air, gesturing at everything around them.

  “Most days I’d say yes. But not every day,” Betty said with a laugh. “Really, I can’t complain.”

  Betty took a folder and pulled out a map that she unfolded and placed on the desk, flipping it around for Melissa. She pointed out the locations of various buildings, starting with the office where they were sitting, the dining hall, the horse barn and stables, and the cabins. She explained that the dotted lines were trails on the property and that a trail map was included in the folder.

  With a highlighter she made a large yellow dot on one of the cabins. “You’ll be staying here in Aspen Glow.”

  “What a lovely name.”

  “You’ll love it. It’s on the hillside tucked back in a stand of aspens. The front porch looks out over the meadow. It’s a sweet little cabin for one or two people.” Betty paused and looked up at her. “It’s just you, right?”

  “Yes, just me. I’m here to do some research about an artist who—”

  The voices of the kids in the other room erupted into gleeful shouts.

  “Hey, Buckaroos!” It was a woman’s voice, loud and exuberant. Melissa overheard her exchanging pleasantries with the kids and their mother.

  Betty took off her readers and leaned sideways to look through the door into the common area. She smiled and waved. Melissa heard the woman beg off from the kids and the sound of boots on the wide plank floors. There was also a tinkling sound that she couldn’t identify. When the woman walked through the office door, Melissa realized that the tinkling was coming from the spurs attached to the woman’s boots.

  “Melissa, this is Kerry MacArthur, our livery manager.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Melissa stood, stretching out her hand. Kerry took off the white straw hat she was wearing with one hand and, with the other, shook Melissa’s hand.

  “Welcome to Buckh
orn Creek Ranch.” Kerry had a dazzling smile, white teeth shining against deeply tanned skin. She was taller than Melissa and had a wiry, athletic build. Her long blond hair was braided into a thick plait that hung down between her shoulder blades. Dressed in boots, long tight jeans, and a red-checked shirt with mother-of-pearl buttons, she was the very stereotype of a wrangler.

  “Sorry for interrupting,” Betty said to Melissa and then looked back to Kerry. “When are you going into town next?”

  “Right now. I was just coming in to see if you needed anything. We’re short several boxes of horse wormer. Little Lars is getting everything set up for the chuckwagon ride.”

  “Would you mind picking up some blueberries if they’re available at the market?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Breakfast is served between seven and nine in the cookhouse.” Betty pointed to it on the map. “We have a chef, but I make the pancakes. With blueberries.”

  “Betty makes the best pancakes.” Kerry, still smiling, put her hat back on. Sliding her fingers to the brim, she tipped it toward Melissa. “I’d best be off. It was nice meeting you.”

  “Nice to meet you, too.” Melissa returned to her seat.

  Betty continued talking, reminding her that the guest ranch was also a working cattle ranch with nearly two hundred head of cattle on the property and that the rules were in place for the safety of their guests. Melissa’s attention wavered as she listened to the jingling sound of the wrangler’s spurs.

  “—and finally, we need to talk about wildlife safety.”

  The screen door of the lodge banged shut, and Melissa snapped back to attention. Betty handed her a booklet with black silhouettes of an elk, a bear, and a mountain lion against a bright-yellow background the color of a road sign.

  “Please read this carefully, Professor.” Betty peered at her over her reading glasses. When she smiled her eyes looked like quarter moons.

  “My homework assignment?”

  “Nope. You’ve got to read it right now, and then you will have a quiz.”

  “A quiz? Really?”

  “Yep. You’ll take a quiz, and if you get any answers wrong, we’ll talk about it. This is a project a local wildlife conservancy started, and most of the outfitters and guest ranches are participating. We believe it’s important to educate our guests for their benefit as well as our animal friends’. Between tourism and all the people moving out here, animal interactions are on the rise, especially with bears. Every year more people are moving into their territory. Our bears here are good bears, but people are the problem. When an animal asserts his rights on his ancestral land, it always loses. And by that, I mean he loses his life because he’s been labeled a ‘problem animal.’ It’s a damn shame.” Betty paused and shook her head. “Would you like a cup of coffee while you read?”

  “I’d love one.”

  “Cream or sugar?”

  “Neither. Just black.”

  Betty left the office, coming back a few moments later with two white mugs imprinted with the ranch brand. Melissa thanked her, took a sip, and winced. The coffee was hot and strong.

  Betty shuffled papers around on her desk while Melissa read through the pamphlet produced by an organization called the Colorado Bear Conservancy. She already knew most of the information it presented. It was a basic primer on properly disposing trash, how not to harass wildlife, and how not to behave like prey should you encounter a bear or a mountain lion. In other words, put all trash in the bear-proof containers provided, don’t get too close to the animals, and don’t run or bend over should one take a particular interest in you. The only part that surprised her had to do with staying in cabins. The pamphlet emphatically stated that ground-floor windows should be closed and locked while the cabin was unattended or at night, lest a bear be tempted by the intriguing scents inside and decide to break in. The thought of a bear climbing in through a window during the night was sobering.

  Melissa put the booklet down. “I think I’m ready to take the quiz.”

  “All right, Professor. Let’s see how you do.” Betty handed her a pencil and sheet of paper with multiple-choice questions.

  Melissa read through the questions, marking the correct answers as she went. The last question wasn’t really a question, but it asked her to agree to help protect bears and directed her to the conservancy for more information. She slid the paper and the pencil back across the desk to Betty.

  “I’m done.”

  Betty picked up the quiz, scanning the page, her eyes moving from top to bottom. She smiled. “Very good. You get an A plus”—she held up a Colorado Bear Conservancy decal—“and a sticker.”

  “Friend of bears.” Melissa read aloud the words printed on the decal and then said quietly to herself, “I like that.”

  Melissa glanced at Betty, who stared at her with an unexpected intensity. Just as she began to feel uncomfortable, exposed almost, the look vanished, replaced with her genial smile. Betty slid the decal into the pocket of the folder with the map, information about the ranch, a map of the Buckhorn area that included information about local restaurants and businesses, and a bright-orange wildlife-safety sheet. She confirmed the terms of Melissa’s reservation, asked her to sign for the cabin, and then handed her the folder and a key.

  “Don’t forget, breakfast is also included for the folks in the cabins that have kitchens. A lot of people like to take advantage of a hot breakfast before going out on a day trip. The common room here is open twenty-four seven. Your cabin is out of range for Wi-Fi. The signal’s good in here and out on the porch, too. If you don’t find a pot of coffee ready, feel free to make one. I hope you’ll enjoy your stay with us.”

  If Melissa had any doubts about enjoying her stay, which she didn’t, they would have evaporated when she saw the cabin for the first time. A classic A-frame structure surrounded by aspen trees on three sides with a deck on the front, it faced the meadow below. It was cozy inside but felt spacious because of the high and steeply pitched ceiling and front wall that was mostly glass. The main area had a living room in the front with a fireplace and a comfortable-looking couch and upholstered chairs on one side and a dining table with chairs on the other. The stairs that led up to a small loft bedroom divided the space below; underneath the loft was a small kitchen and bathroom. Melissa immediately envisioned the table as her desk, and the shelves built in under the stairs would be perfect for keeping her notes organized. Sitting on the couch or seated at the table, she’d be able to look out through the wall of glass to the meadow and the mountains beyond. That is, when she wasn’t outside on the deck.

  While she was unpacking and arranging her things, her great-grandmother’s photo album reminded her that the arrival of the wrangler had interrupted her conversation with Betty. She had intended to tell Betty about the old pictures that might have been taken at the ranch and to offer to show them to her. She would do that soon, but since she’d be here for a month, she had plenty of time. As she placed a composition notebook on the table, she looked up and froze, stunned by the view in front of her.

  The warm sunlight illuminating the trees contrasted to the cool-green grasses of the meadow and the bluish mountains in the distance. Several elk meandered through the meadow grass, grazing as they went, their big antlered heads bobbing up and down. Melissa walked quietly out onto the deck and sat down in a chair, mesmerized. Basking in the last light of the day, she savored the moment, absorbing the wondrous landscape.

  Chapter Six

  Melissa’s morning began as it had for the past few days. She woke up at daybreak and made a small pot of coffee, filled a thermos, and then stowed it in her backpack along with a granola bar, an apple, a notebook, and a pen, just in case inspiration struck. The evenings and mornings were cool, almost bordering on cold. She dressed in jeans and her new boots and layered a T-shirt, a long-sleeved shirt, and a mossy-green fleece pullover.

  She pulled a ball cap onto her head as she walked out the door of the cabin, into the daz
zling mountain light and air. After slipping the pack on, while snapping the chest strap into place, she thought about the bear spray attached to one of the shoulder straps. It still felt odd dangling there, but she was getting used to it. She had considered not using it, but the feeling she might run into a bear nagged at her. That and the imagined look on her mother’s face chastising her for being unsafe had compelled her to clip the holster to her backpack.

  She walked down the hill to the road and turned left, heading away from the lodge. After a few minutes, she reached a trail that crossed the gravel road. It was wide, well-trodden, and had hoof prints as well as other, sometimes fresh and smelly, evidence that it was primarily used as a horse trail. If she stayed on the horse trail, it intersected with a hiking trail, a narrow path well marked with orange blazons nailed to trees. It traversed the hillside in a slow ascent, leading to a clearing at the crest of the hill with a marvelous view of the valley below.

  Melissa stopped there and sat on a large pine log hewn into a bench. She ate her simple breakfast, drinking coffee and enjoying the morning light as the sun rose behind her. As the sun broke over the mountain peaks, it illuminated the valley below, the colors changing from cool, shadowy tones to saturated colors. She hadn’t followed the trail any farther past this spot. From the trail map provided in her information packet, it looked like it went deeper into the property and eventually curved back around to the lodge, but this short out-and-back hike was perfect. It gave her an opportunity to get some fresh air and exercise to offset long hours of sitting while reading and writing. She also enjoyed ruminating on the plan for the day ahead.

  Today she’d arranged to meet Betty in the afternoon to show her images of Ursula Bergen’s paintings and her great-grandmother’s photographs. She was eager to see if Betty recognized any of the places in them. She also planned to visit the local historical society soon. Hopefully she’d come across some scraps of helpful information, but she didn’t know what, if anything, would pan out.