[2015] Just the Essentials

by Shari L. Tapscott

  She looks out over the night-silhouetted mountains.

  “Here? As in Silverton?” I ask. “What would you do?”

  Not quite meeting my eyes, she says, “I don’t know. I have some money saved up from when my grandma passed away. Maybe I’ll open a little bed and breakfast.”

  I understand.

  “So you never wanted to go into marketing?”

  She shakes her head and looks up. “My grandma had a place in Georgia. It wasn’t big—only large enough for a few couples to stay at a time, but I loved that house.”

  Against all the odds, I like Amber. Who would have thought?

  “If you can, you should do it.”

  She bites her lip, thinking, as she stares at her untouched slice of pie. “I might.”

  Jack raises an eyebrow as I walk back, looking from me, toward Amber, and then back again. “Being friendly, are you?”

  “She’s not so bad.” I take a large bite so I don’t have to talk about it anymore.

  Jack only chuckles and then dives into his dessert. Even though his slice is twice as big as mine, he finishes first and manages to steal a few bites off my plate.

  The fire dwindles to nothing but hot coals. Mark and Claire retire first, followed soon after by Dan and Sara. Nicole’s been quiet the whole evening, pretending to ignore Jack and me. Every once in a while, I catch her scowling.

  Once there’s almost nothing left of the fire, Henry douses it with water. The rest of us retire to our tents. I stand outside mine, not wanting to sleep on the ground again.

  “Only two more nights,” Jack promises when he sees me frowning at the tent.

  I can make it.

  He kisses me goodnight, and I crawl in, hoping it won’t be as bad as the first night.

  I wake to the sound of someone saying my name. Startled, I bolt up. Birds chirp, and the early light of pre-dawn illuminates my tent.

  Blinking, I watch the tent zipper slide open. In that short moment, my imagination runs rampant, and I look around for something to use as a weapon, should one be needed. Why didn’t I bring my lug wrench?

  Hudson sticks his head through the flap.

  I growl and lie back down, burrowing into my sleeping bag. “Go away. I have absolutely nothing to say to you.”

  “Kinsley, you have to listen to me.”

  To my horror, he crawls in, squatting like a frog by the entrance. He turns to zip the tent back up.

  “Get out,” I command.

  He doesn’t budge. He holds out his hands, pleading with me to listen to him. I cross my arms, so irritated I could scream—and I would, but I don’t want to draw attention to the fact that he’s here.

  “I was wrong—about everything,” he starts. “About your writing, your ambitions, and…the rest.”

  I stare at him, and he flinches.

  “I keep thinking it should be you,” he continues. “I should have waited for you.”

  When I cringe, he scrambles to explain. “I mean…I don’t love her. I love you.” He clenches his hands tight. “Please, Kinsley. Let’s go home and try again. Don’t waste three years.”

  I wait for the words to make me feel something. Anything. I shake my head. “You need to leave.”

  Hudson’s face falls, but there’s a determination in his eyes that makes me uneasy.

  “I’ll go now,” he says, unzipping the tent. “But this is not over.”

  As he crawls out, I lean forward to close the flap, making sure he doesn’t turn back and continue talking. Just outside the tent, Jack stares at the two of us, his expression open with disbelief.

  My hand freezes on the zipper. He couldn’t possibly think…surely…

  Jack clenches his jaw, and his eyes go hard. He turns away.

  Hudson looks back, amused. “Bad timing, huh?”

  I shove him the rest of the way out of the tent and rip at the zipper when it catches on the fabric. I finally yank it free and hurry to throw on clothes.

  Why couldn’t I have slept in my jeans last night? I yank them on and don’t even bother with makeup. After pulling on my boots, I hurry out into the morning.

  There’s no sign of Jack, but Nicole smirks at me from over her coffee mug. I glare at her and turn to Jack’s tent. It’s empty.

  Those who are up look uneasy, as if they can sense something is askew. I finally find Jack in the corral, feeding the horses.

  “Jack…”

  He breaks off another flake of hay and tosses it on the ground. “Don’t.”

  Jack looks at me, his expression hard.

  “If you’d just let me explain—”

  Turning his back on me, he shakes his head.

  I stare at him, fuming. Why won’t he let me talk?

  “Nothing happened,” I insist, speaking to the back of his head.

  From behind me, Nicole says, “Hudson was in your tent. It’s pretty hard to explain yourself out of that, don’t you think?”

  When I turn to face her, she smiles.

  Not about to try to talk to Jack while she’s here, I storm off. He’ll cool down. He’ll let me explain eventually.

  With nothing left to do, I help break camp. As I stuff my tent in its too-small bag, I wish that I’d never come on this ridiculous trip. Tears sting my eyes, but I’m too mad to indulge in them.

  Jack only joins the rest of the group when it’s time to leave. I nudge Petunia closer to the front, closer to Jack.

  “I’m heading back today,” he says to Henry after we’ve ridden for several hours. “I’ll take the old canyon trail.”

  Henry looks surprised. “Something wrong?”

  Jack shakes his head. “I need to get back to work. I’ve already taken too much time off.”

  Henry argues with him for a moment but then shrugs. “Well, you know the way. Be careful.”

  In about thirty minutes, Jack veers to the left when the rest of the riders take a right. I watch him, helpless. I can’t do another two days of this without him here. What’s the point?

  I pull Peter to the side. “I’m going with Jack.”

  He opens his mouth to protest, but I give him a pleading look.

  “It’s a bad idea, but all right,” Peter says.

  “Will you let your dad know?”

  Henry’s way up front with the other riders. Peter glances ahead, looking uncomfortable. “Sure.”

  Not wasting anymore time, I turn Petunia back and shortly find the trail Jack went down. I coax the mule to a trot, hoping to catch up with him. This trail’s less traveled than the one we’ve been riding. I hold my breath when it narrows even more and crosses above a small ravine. Once we’re over it, it doesn’t take long to find Jack.

  He’s just ahead.

  “Jack!”

  He whips back when he hears me, his expression disbelieving and more than a little irritated.

  He reins his horse back to me. “What are you doing?”

  “Don’t leave. Not like this.”

  Taking a deep breath, he says, “Kinsley, I don’t want to do this right now.”

  “You know I didn’t…”

  Looking away, he studies a tree near him. “Yeah, I know.”

  When he looks back, we stare at each other for several moments.

  “Come back,” I whisper.

  Jack rubs his neck. Just as he begins to turn his horse around, Hudson calls out from the trail behind us.

  You have got to be kidding.

  The look I send Hudson over my shoulder is not friendly. He doesn’t seem to care.

  “What are you doing, Kinsley?” Hudson demands. “You can’t just leave the group.”

  I’m about to snap at Hudson when Jack interrupts me. “He’s right. Go back—follow the trail. If you’re quick, you’ll catch up to them in less than half an hour.”

  “What about you?”

  “We’ll figure it out when you get back.” His half-smile gives me a sliver of hope. “I shouldn’t have left for the week.”

  “I don�
�t want to go back without you.”

  Jack sends a curt nod in Hudson’s direction. “I don’t want to go back with him.”

  The two men stare each other down.

  I slowly nod. “Fine.”

  Jack turns his attention back to me, his golden-green eyes bright in the sun. “Go.”

  I blink and finally nod. What else can I do? I turn Petunia back, ignoring Hudson when he tries to talk to me, and make my way toward the main trail.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “You know it’s better to end it,” Hudson says, doggedly trying to talk to me no matter how I ignore him.

  And I try very hard.

  Finally, I look at him, at the end of my patience. “Will you shut up already?”

  He gets off his horse.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Yell at me,” he says. “Scream. Whatever will make you feel better.”

  I’m so mad at him; I tremble. Swinging off Petunia, I snap, “What’s the point? You’re not sorry.”

  We’ve come to the ravine, and he walks to the edge, looking over the shallow drop. “Of course I’m not. You think I want you with him? I didn’t think you would sink that low.”

  A growl builds in my throat. “Do you know what you are? You’re a…jerk!”

  He widens his eyes, surprised. It’s the nastiest thing I’ve ever said to him, but it’s still quite a bit tamer than most of the things I’ve thought lately.

  Now that I’ve started, there’s no stopping it. “And you know what else—wait!”

  Hudson steps back, surprised by my anger, and stumbles over a small boulder behind him. He spins his arms wildly, attempting to keep his balance.

  I rush toward him, trying to grab him, but it’s too late.

  He goes off the edge. I watch, paralyzed, as he falls, rolling and rolling until he reaches the bottom.

  “Hudson!”

  He moves a little and croaks out an acknowledgment.

  For one fleeting moment, I stare at him, letting panic take me. I remember wishing he’d go off a cliff. I didn’t really mean it.

  Then I snap out of it. I have to do something.

  “Don’t move! I’m coming down!”

  He groans in reply.

  With shaking hands, I untie one of my packs from Petunia and then search for a way down. I walk for a while before I find a spot where I can half crawl, half slide, to the bottom. I examine the route before I descend. I should be able to climb back up.

  By the time I make it to Hudson, he’s sitting up, clutching his leg.

  “It’s broken,” he says.

  He’s white as a sheet, and his face and hands are scraped up. There’s a pretty serious gash on his arm and a less severe one on his forehead.

  I unzip my pack and rummage for the first aid kit Jack made me bring.

  “What’s that supposed to do for my leg?”

  I shake my head. “Shut up.”

  Hudson laughs weakly. “You think you could be a little nicer to me now.”

  His words come out strained.

  “You walked off a cliff!”

  He winces. I do feel bad for him. Mostly. But now that I know he’s not dead, I’m kind of irritated that he was that stupid.

  Using the first aid book as a guide, I patch up his wounds the best I can.

  “How’s your neck?” I ask.

  He rubs it. “Okay, I think.”

  “We have to put a splint on your leg.”

  Sucking in a shallow breath, he grits his teeth. “How do we do that?”

  I flip the page. “I don’t know. I’m reading.” I scan the instructions. “We’re going to have to cut your pant leg back.”

  “Absolutely not. These were over a hundred bucks.”

  Grasping for patience, I take a deep breath so I won’t yell at him. “I’m sorry, but we need to. Do you have a knife?”

  Jack carries two or three on him at all times. I don’t remember Hudson with one, but maybe he bought one for the trip.

  He shakes his head. I resist the urge to roll my eyes and then dig into my pack. As I hoped, Jack packed one for me.

  It’s probably a little twisted to get so much satisfaction from cutting the leg off Hudson’s expensive khakis.

  I’ll have to explore that sickness later.

  Once the fabric’s cut away to the knee, I inhale a sharp breath and look aside.

  The bone is not only broken—it’s sticking out.

  Sounding as ill as I feel, Hudson says, “Should we try to put it back in place?”

  “The book says not to.”

  Once I compose myself, I roll up an extra T-shirt and use first aid tape to secure it to his leg. Using the book as a guide, I bandage the whole thing.

  Once I’m finished, I sit back. “Try not to move, okay? We’re supposed to elevate it, but it’s already up a little bit, so I think we should leave it alone.”

  Hudson nods.

  Last, I find ibuprofen and a bottle of water.

  “Take this.” Trying to make him more comfortable, I set my pack behind him. “I’m going to ride back to the lodge and get help.”

  He grunts an acknowledgment. Now that the surge of adrenaline has passed, I think the pain is sinking in.

  Taking the path I came down, I scale the ravine. At the top, I look for Petunia.

  She’s not where I left her.

  I search all over for her and Hudson’s horse, but they’re nowhere to be found. Henry’s words come back to me. Thinking only of her next meal, Petunia went home.

  She’s left us.

  Panic begins to bubble in my chest. No one knows we’re here. Jack thinks we went back with the others. The others think we’re with Jack.

  How long will it take to walk back to the lodge? I doubt I would be there before early morning. How can I leave Hudson that long?

  I have my clothes and emergency supplies, but I don’t have a tent or a sleeping bag. What are we going to do?

  After debating the options, I know I can’t leave Hudson. Someone will come looking for us eventually. I’ll have to keep him alive until then.

  Hudson looks startled to see me back so soon.

  I sit next to him. “The horses are gone.”

  He clenches his eyes shut and curses.

  “It’s all right. I have food and matches.” I open my pack and begin pulling things out. When I find the water filter, I hold it up. “And this thing, though I’m not quite sure how to use it.”

  He doesn’t answer.

  I stuff everything back. “But we don’t have a tent.”

  We sit for a few moments in silence.

  “How are you feeling?” I ask.

  “Okay.”

  I know he’s lying, but I fake a smile. “It’ll be all right.”

  Who am I trying to reassure, Hudson or myself?

  We’re going to die of something, probably Giardia. Do people die of Giardia? Or is it just really unpleasant? Either way, I don’t have any desire to find out.

  I read the instructions on my water filter again and fill the bag in a nearby stream.

  This can’t be sanitary. Can’t be.

  After screwing on the filter, I squeeze the water into the empty bottle. Holding it up, I scrutinize it. I don’t see anything swimming around in there. Not that I would.

  While shuddering at the thought of microscopic bacteria, I stand and dust off my jeans. The walk back to Hudson isn’t a long one, but I wish there were a way to collect more water at a time. This won’t be a pleasant hike at night.

  And my lantern is still tied to Petunia.

  Trying not to dwell on all that’s gone wrong, I make my way back to Hudson. He still looks like he’s in horrible pain, but I don’t know what else to do for him.

  I glance at his watch. “You can have more painkiller in about twenty minutes.”

  The sun sinks low in the sky. We’ve been out here for four hours. It’s not much in the grand scheme of things, but it’s a long time for Hudson to g
o without medical attention. I should have walked back. What was I thinking? I’m not doing Hudson any good here.

  “No one’s going to realize we’re missing.” I meet his eyes. “I have to walk back to the lodge.”

  Hudson shakes his head. “Not tonight. It’s too late.”

  “But if I don’t…”

  “If you do, I’ll freeze out here and probably be eaten by a bear.”

  He’s right. It’s going to get cold. I’ll need to keep a fire going.

  Slowly nodding, I finally agree. “I’ll go in the morning.”

  I begin to gather kindling. It will be easier now than when it’s dark. I hope this works. If I can’t get a fire started in a fireplace, what chance do I have in the middle of the woods?

  Greg uses a lot of dry pine needles for kindling. I’ll start with those. I make myself busy, collecting needles and small bits of twigs. It’s good to have a job; I don’t feel quite as helpless.

  By the time I have my tinder and wood gathered, it’s time for Hudson to take more pills.

  “When I sprained my ankle, the painkiller they gave me made me sick to my stomach,” I say. “The doctor said I could use both ibuprofen and acetaminophen if I spaced it out. I think it’s worth a try.”

  “Okay.” Hudson takes the pills and lays his head back. “How long do I have to wait?”

  “A couple hours.”

  He groans, takes a deep breath, and closes his eyes.

  My first match burns out before I can light the pine needles. My second match won’t light at all.

  Frustrated tears sting my eyes, but I hold them back. I say a silent prayer and try again. This time, the needles light.

  My breath catches. I’m scared that if I move at all, I’ll accidentally snuff it out. The fire consumes the needles quickly, but they hold out long enough that a few small twigs catch.

  Soon I have a fire. It’s a baby fire, feeding on little sticks, but it’s a start. I add the larger pieces, careful to layer them over the little twigs so they don’t smother the flames.

  It grows dark, and I’m cold. I pull on my sweatshirt.

  There’s nothing in my pack large enough for Hudson, so I drape my jacket over him.

  “Are you hungry?” I ask.