by R. C. Ryan
Big. Mistake. Apparently, bears did eat people. There were pictures to prove it. Adrenaline spurted through her in painful pulses. How could anyone like this feeling? Adrenaline junkie? More like adrenaline-phobic. It made her toes curl in and her skin itch. Alternating between hot and cold, Kate crossed her legs so she wouldn’t pee in her only pair of long underwear. Lordy, she had to go so bad…
A whimper resonated somewhere nearby. Hold on a second. She hadn’t whimpered, had she? No. She was pretty sure her voice wouldn’t work right now. Did bears whimper? She wouldn’t know because the Idiot Guru had left out that critical chapter…
The creature outside her tent whimpered again, softly and sweetly. Kate peeked her head out of the sleeping bag. The shadow was gone, but the whimpering continued.
Holding the sleeping bag around her like a feeble bubble of protection, she squirmed over to the zippered flap that the company had touted as an airflow vent and inched it open until she could see. The rain had slowed some, but it still sprinkled her nose as she peered outside. The shadowy figure of an animal lay a few feet from the tent, still whimpering weakly. But it appeared to be much smaller than she’d originally thought. Way too small to be a bear. It looked more like…a dog.
“Oh no. Poor thing.” Kate fought with the sleeping bag until it finally released her. She unzipped the tent’s main flap. After slipping on her boots, she slogged through the mud and knelt next to the dog. It was a Lab. A chocolate Lab just like the ones she’d seen playing fetch on Venice Beach. “Are you lost?” she crooned, testing the dog’s temperament with a pat on the head. The dog licked her hand and then eased up to a sitting position so it could lick her face.
“You’re a sweetheart, aren’t you?” She ran her hand over the dog’s rain-slicked fur. The poor love shook hard, staring at her with wide, fearful eyes. “I’ll bet you don’t like the storm, do you?” she asked. “Well that makes two of us. Come on.” She coaxed the dog into the tent. “You can wait out the storm with me.” And…seeing as how she couldn’t stay out here harboring a fugitive dog… “First thing tomorrow morning, we can head into the nearest town so we can find your owner.”
Then she’d find herself a nice hot shower, a real meal that didn’t require boiling water on a camp stove, and a plush queen-sized bed where she could finally fall into a dry, peaceful sleep.
Chapter Two
Bella!” Jaden jogged down the hall of his rented ski chalet, hoping to God that his dog was simply hiding under the massive king-sized bed in the master suite.
He tore into the room, flicked on the lights, and hit the floor next to the bed. His heart plummeted. Damn it. He should’ve brought her up the mountain with him tonight. Or at least locked the doggie door so she couldn’t get out. If he would’ve known a storm was coming, he would have. And he would’ve kept her right by his side. Though it’d been only a month since he’d gotten her from a rescue in Denver, he’d already learned that lightning and thunder sent her over the edge.
Back in the hallway, he stopped at the closet to grab his raincoat and pull on a headlamp and his hiking boots. As soon as he’d heard the first clap of thunder, he’d told the crew he had to get home, but he wasn’t fast enough. It had taken him a good hour to navigate the ATV down the steep slopes in the rain, and Bella could cover a lot of ground in an hour, especially if she was running scared.
Jaden slipped out the French doors and onto the back deck. The rain was drizzle now, but thunder still rumbled in the distance. He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled for the dog again. The echo of his voice sounded hollow and lonely—small in the woods that stretched out on all sides of him. Hundreds of thousands of acres of pine and spruce and clumps of aspen trees. There were jagged cliffs, rivers brimming with snowmelt, and predators—mountain lions and bear. And his poor dog started shaking at the sight of a rabbit crouched in the grass.
Panic drove him down the steps, and he jogged into the woods, whistling and yelling her name. He hadn’t counted on getting attached to a dog. Lately it’d been hard enough to take care of himself. He hadn’t slept a full night since the accident. Hadn’t felt much like eating, either. The lingering depression brought on by the knowledge that he’d ruined someone’s life.
But the last time he’d gone to visit Gram, he’d driven by one of those fancy local pet stores. They were doing an adoption event outside. As soon as he’d seen Bella hiding in the corner of the pen, he knew she’d be coming home with him. They had the same struggle. Anxiety. He’d recognized it right away. According to the worker, Bella had been rescued from a farm where they’d found over thirty emaciated dogs that had been abused and neglected. And that was it. Over. Done. No decision to be made. He knew she needed him as much as he needed her.
“Bella!” The wind made his shouts sound so futile, but he had to do something. It killed him to think of her out there in the overwhelming darkness, terrified and cold and running blind. He knew how lonely it was. That’s what he’d been doing since the accident—navigating an endless darkness. The dog had been the first light he’d seen in a while. She’d taken the edge off the silence that had consumed his life.
After the dust had settled, friends had stopped calling. Fans had stopped seeking him out. His grandma had started talking to him like he was a stranger. And there were times he felt like he had no one in the world.
But then Bella would come and lie at his feet. She would trot by his side while he wandered the trails in search of freedom from the burden that always seemed to weigh him down. Every morning, she would whine at him from the side of the bed, coaxing him back to life because she needed him.
She needed him to feed her and play ball with her. She needed him to protect her and to show her that there was good in the world. That not everyone would kick her or lock her in a cold, dingy basement or use a chain to strangle her when she peed on the floor out of fright. She still wore the marks of violence on the fur around her neck. It had taken a few weeks for her to trust him, for her not to cower in front of him when he’d call to her. It had taken her a few weeks to realize he wasn’t going to hurt her or leave her. And now she was alone again. He’d fucked up.
“I’m sorry!” he yelled. Maybe the wind would carry the sound of his voice right to her. “Come on, Bella, I’m sorry!” Mud slurped at his boots as he tromped straight up the side of the mountain. “I won’t leave you out here.” It didn’t matter if it took all night. He’d rescue her the same way she’d rescued him.
* * *
Amazing how sunshine could make everything look so different. In the radiance of a bright morning, even the piece-of-shit tent looked pretty.
Above Kate’s head, the blue nylon seemed to glow with a happy optimism. She turned on the phone’s voice recorder and brought it to her lips. “Day two: waking up in the Extreme Outdoors Lightweight Backpacker Tent doesn’t suck. It’s actually a very pretty color.” Maybe she wouldn’t write up the tent as the worst creation since tiny backpacks hit the purse market. (Seriously, how could Kate Spade have jumped on that bandwagon?) She was feeling generous this morning. Almost giddy.
The dog licked her cheek. At some point during the night, Jane Doe—as Kate had come to call her after discovering the dog was a lady when she’d taken her outside to pee at four o’clock in the morning—had snuggled right up against her in the sleeping bag. Now they lay side by side, spooning like a happy couple. “You saved me, Jane,” Kate murmured to the dog. “You know that?” Today, there would be no bugs or dirt, and she’d get her first real meal since the cab had dropped her off at the trailhead…Wait. Had that only been yesterday? Huh. It seemed like eons ago.
In the sleeping bag, Kate could feel the dog’s tail wagging against her leg. “I know, I know. I’m ready too.” She glanced at the time on her phone. Seven o’clock in the morning wasn’t too early to get up and at ’em when you were in the backcountry. Right? With any luck, she could be sitting in a cute little coffee shop in town by eight o’clock with her new best fri
end Jane Doe curled up at her feet.
On that note…She shimmied out of the sleeping bag and pulled on shorts and a tank top, which she had to rip the price tags off of since she’d had to purchase all new clothes for the trip. Once she was dressed, she dug out a stale bagel from her backpack and gagged down half before holding the other half out to Jane.
The dog sniffed warily before taking a hesitant bite.
“I know. They’re much better toasted and served with flavored cream cheese.” Strawberry. Or maybe with just a touch of honey. Kate’s mouth watered. “Don’t worry, girl. We’ll find some real food in town.” There had to be a deli or a diner nearby.
Speaking of town…She rifled through her things until she located her topographical map. Not that she had any clue how to read the lines that supposedly told you how steep the terrain was. “But I do know how to find the closest town.” She pointed out the small black dot to the dog. “Topaz Falls, Colorado. Sounds like the kind of place that might have a really nice spa, don’t you think?”
Jane panted happily.
“All we have to do is head down the trail to where it meets up with the highway; then we’ll be home free.” Easy enough. She folded up the map, stuffed it back into her pack, and then shoved her feet into the brand-new hiking boots that had given her blisters yesterday. She stood gingerly, stiff from a night on the thin foam pad, which was supposed to be the best on the market. (More false advertising.)
Jane whined as Kate unzipped the tent. Then the dog bounded outside like she couldn’t wait to get started. Kate couldn’t either. Over her shoulder, she eyed the nylon structure that had taken her the better part of three hours to set up. (The packaging had boasted a twenty-minute setup—what a scam.) Would it hurt to leave it behind? She’d tried it out for one night. And she’d also gotten to try out the camp stove and the sleeping bag and the foam pad and the collapsible lantern. Did one really truly need to spend seven days on the trail with those things to get a good read on the gear? She’d drawn her conclusions in one night—it all sucked.
“Come on, Jane.” Kate slipped on her backpack and set off down the trail, not looking back at the tent. She’d tell Gregor it hadn’t survived the storm. That she’d spent the rest of the week building her own shelters out of sticks and logs and leaves. Maybe he’d give her a promotion.
Hiking with a dog was actually fun. Jane would run ahead with her nose to the ground, and then find a stick and bring it to Kate with her tail wagging. She’d toss the stick, and the dog would take off, leaping and running as though this were the best day of her life.
The feeling was contagious. Having company made Kate slow down and actually enjoy the scenery. Yesterday, she hiked the few miles to her campsite with her head down, faltering under the weight of her thirty-pound backpack, cursing the day Gregor had been born. But today she noticed things. Like the way the sun glinted off the new green aspen leaves. And how when she passed a certain kind of pine tree—she didn’t know which—the scent of butterscotch would trail in the air.
The mountains were much prettier than she’d given them credit for yesterday. Purple and yellow and white wildflowers dotted grassy meadows that flourished under the shelter of the trees. It was peacefully quiet but not silent. Birds trilled and somewhere water shushed and a pleasant breeze sighed through the thick branches. So basically, if it wasn’t for the dirt and the bugs and the thunderstorms, the mountains would be perfect.
They reached the trailhead much faster than she’d thought they would. But then again, she’d never been good at judging distances on a map. The trail broke through the trees and into an open space flanked by the dirt parking lot where the cab had dropped her off yesterday. A few cars sat in the lot but not a soul was around. “Okay.” Kate swung her backpack to the ground and found the map again.
Jane trotted over and plopped down panting like her lungs were on fire.
“Just have to figure out which way to go,” Kate said reassuringly. Which way had she come from in the cab again? When she’d first looked at the map, she’d assumed they had to go west, but now she wasn’t so sure. She stared at those little lines, but they all seemed to blur together. Her head felt a little funny. “Water,” she gasped. She’d forgotten. Gregor had reminded her that she had to stay hydrated in the high altitude of Colorado. Letting the map fall to the ground, she uncapped her water bottle and guzzled half of what was left.
“Hi there.”
Kate turned toward the pleasant, somewhat shy voice of a woman.
“I noticed you were studying a map. Is there anything I can help you with?”
The woman walked over, and she looked like she knew what she was doing. Her hiking boots and lightweight pants were worn and dusty, as though she headed out on the trail every day. She wore a wide-brimmed straw hat, and her golden auburn hair hung in two braids down her shoulders. The kindness in her eyes instantly put Kate at ease. Jane, too, judging from the way the dog stood and started to wag her tail.
Kate picked up the map, realized she’d been holding it upside down, and turned it around. “I’m trying to figure out how to get to Topaz Falls from here.”
Even when the woman frowned, she looked friendly. “That’s a good ten miles down the highway.” She seemed to assess Kate’s attire. “It’d be a long walk. I’d be happy to give you a ride if you want.”
Kate pulled her sunglasses down her nose. “Seriously?” She didn’t mean to gawk at the woman, but Kate had once stood on the shoulder of the 405 in L.A. with a blown-out tire and cars had whizzed past like she was a statue. No one had even stopped, let alone offered her a ride.
“Sure.” The woman shrugged like it was nothing. “We do that kind of thing all the time around here. We get tons of long-term hikers coming through. A lot of them hitchhike into town.”
Kate sized the woman up. Normally she’d never get into a car with someone she didn’t know, especially in L.A., but there was no way a psychopath could smile like this woman.
“I’m Everly Brooks.”
Everly—what an angelic name. “Kate Livingston.” She held out her hand for a professional introduction, even though she really wanted to hug the woman’s graceful neck. Maybe even give her a kiss of gratitude on the cheek. “I work for Adrenaline Junkie magazine and was out doing a gear-test run.” Was that what the real adrenaline junkies called it? No matter. “This sweet dog wandered into my camp last night during the storm. So I thought I would head into town to find her owner.”
“Oh…” Everly’s pretty eyes grew even bigger. “Then you’re in luck. My friend Jessa owns an animal shelter just outside of town. I’m sure she’d be happy to help.”
“Perfect.” Things could not be more perfect right now. Kate could take Jane to the shelter so she could be reunited with her family—a good deed for someone else. Then she could find a place to stay and get a head start on writing her gear-test article from the comfort of a hotel—a good deed for herself. Gregor would never know that she hadn’t spent a week out on the trail.
“I’m parked over this way.” Everly led her to an old-fashioned Ford pickup truck that was spotted with rust. Kate climbed in, and Jane jumped into her lap as though she knew she was going home.
It took a few tries to get the old clunker started, but soon enough they were on their way, and Kate relaxed against the seat. “Thanks again for going to all of this trouble.” Nothing like this had ever happened to her. A complete stranger going out of their way to help…
“It’s no problem,” Everly said. The truck puttered down a two-lane road bordered by thick, earthy-scented forest on both sides. “So you must do a ton of backpacking with your job, huh?”
Kate startled. “Oh. Yeah. Sure. You know…” She hoped Everly knew because she sure as hell didn’t.
“Where’s your favorite place to go?”
“Hmmm.” She drummed her fingers against her thigh, pretending to mentally compare the many incredible places she’d backpacked. “I guess I would have to say Ban
ff.” That was somewhere in Canada. Someone had raved about it at the office last week. Surely it had a lot of trails and scenery.
“Oh my God, I love Banff.” Everly’s head tipped as though she were picturing it. “Did you do the Consolation Lakes Trail near Moraine Lake?”
“Of course,” Kate said, and then quickly added, “It’s beautiful.”
“I know,” her new friend agreed. “It’s one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been.”
“So what do you do?” Kate asked before Everly could get another question in. She’d pretty much run out of ideas for any additional discussion on spectacular backpacking destinations.
“I run a small organic farm and operate a farm-to-table café that barely breaks even.” Everly laughed as though embarrassed. “Doesn’t sound so great, but I love it.”
“Actually it sounds amazing.” Kate could picture it. A cute little farmhouse against a mountain backdrop. It sure beat her tiny apartment that looked out on an alley back in Burbank. There were probably animals and wildflowers and the same beautiful aspen trees she’d seen in the forest. “I’d love to see it.”
“Sure. After we take the dog to Jessa’s, we can swing by my place on our way back to the trail.”
Kate shifted Jane so she could see the woman’s face. “The trail?”
“Yeah.” Eyes on the road, Everly turned the truck off onto a dirt driveway and drove underneath a framed wooden sign that said CORTEZ RANCH. “I figured you’d want to get back to your trip after you get the dog settled.”
“Right. The trip.” The lonely, miserable, dirty camping trip. There was one problem with that scenario. Kate no longer had a tent. And she seriously doubted her ability to ever find that thing again. “Actually, I might stick around town for a few days,” she said thoughtfully, as though the idea had just occurred to her. “Restock on supplies and stuff.” Enjoy a few meals, maybe a massage or a day of pampering to recondition her skin. “Do you know of any good places to stay on short notice?”
