A Bridge Between Us

by K. K. Allen

  After dumping a few rows of corn, with Bruno happily running after us through the fields, Harold set the tractor to idle and gestured for me to head over to him. He gave me a crash course with the controls, then I was on my way.

  We worked through breakfast and lunch, stopping for minutes at a time to scarf down the pile of sandwiches we’d brought with us. In the early evening, I dumped my last load of cobs into the moveable bin, and Harold immediately started hooking up the bin to his tractor.

  “You done good, son. Bring the harvester back, and I’ll get the bin over to the silos.”

  I nodded and had just begun to turn when Bruno started growling and barking at the line of trees at our backs. Harold looked over my shoulder and immediately adopted a sour expression. “Happy Harold” was long gone, just like that.

  “What is it?” All I could see was the entrance to the woods that reached the bridge over Cornett Creek.

  “Damn Bell family, having one of their ritzy festivals again.” Harold shook his head and snapped at Bruno to stop yapping. “If I had a party for every harvest that took place on this farm, we’d have no time for work.” He let out a huff and took off walking.

  Bruno followed, while I lingered a minute longer, staring back at the woods. Camila had told me about the harvest festivals she took part in every year. Knowing that it was yet another event my family wasn’t invited to made me understand Harold’s frustration. If anyone was keeping up with the ridiculous feud, it was Camila’s dad.

  I couldn’t blame Harold’s shift in mood when it came to talking about the Bells. They’d sure done a number on our business operations over the past six months. Before that, Patrick Bell had been less than welcoming, but he hadn’t made moves to blackball us. Guilt gnawed at me. The last time I had seen Camila, she’d looked at me like I’d crushed her with my harsh words. Then Trip was right there to take her home like the good Boy Scout he was.

  I didn’t doubt that Camila and I being together that night had gotten back to her father, either by Trip or by an angry Camila, but I didn’t like to dwell on those thoughts. The anger they brought with them had the power of engulfing me in flames. But the guilt had been getting to me. Little by little, day after day, with every passing moment that I avoided Camila and she avoided me, the bubble of the volcano threatened beneath my feet.

  Something was about to erupt. Someone was bound to get burned. And my only answer to it all was to finish harvest season, pack my bags, then leave Telluride behind.

  12

  Camila

  The cave Josie and I went to every year was an actual cavity of land on the side of the mountain near the east wing of our home, where we stored our barrels to age. A tunnel connected the cave to the wine cellar where my parents kept their personal wine collection. And “taste some grapes” was our code phrase for sneaking wine from the already fermented barrels.

  I matched Josie’s wicked stare as I unplugged a red wine barrel. The pop made us both giggle. We were up to no good, which was what we did best together. Josie and I often argued about who corrupted who more, and in the end, we always agreed that I was the one.

  She grabbed two wineglasses while I searched for a long syringe extractor to suction out the wine. After squirting a glassful for each of us, we crouched in a corner beside the row of barrels, hiding in case anyone decided to pay the cave a surprise visit.

  “So, how does it feel to be sixteen? Is it as sweet as they say?”

  I smiled and batted my lashes while placing a hand over my heart. “I do declare it’s just the sweetest,” I said, putting on my deepest Southern belle impression.

  Josie giggled and sipped from her glass. “I should have waited a few months to kiss Emilio, then I could have had a sweet sixteen birthday party too.”

  Grimacing, I said, “Don’t remind me. At this rate, I’ll never get my first kiss.”

  “Because you’re in love with a stupid boy. That’s why. You need to take your mind off him, Camila. He’s not worth your time. Not after what he did to you.”

  After that night on the gondola, I’d confessed everything to Josie while crying my eyes out in her arms. She was such a good friend.

  “Technically, he didn’t do anything to me. He just told me the truth.”

  Josie’s eyelids widened with surprise. “Don’t do that. Don’t go giving that boy the benefit of the doubt. He told you that you meant nothing to him. He’s a liar. Clearly, he didn’t mean it, but he hurt you. I hate him for hurting you like that.”

  Just talking about Ridge made my chest tight, and it became hard to breathe. I should have moved on already, leaving all thoughts and feelings for Ridge behind and opening my eyes to all the other boys around town. Surely, someone else out there could make my heart beat just as fast. And as we sat there in the cave, surrounded by aging barrels, and got drunk on grapes, I decided I would do everything in my power to move on from Ridge Cross.

  “Where are you going?” Josie hissed at my back.

  We had just stumbled out of the cave after talking and giggling for too many hours. I was getting worried that we had missed the entire festival, but the second we opened the door and the warm evening wind blasted us, merry music and laughter drifted from where the crowd still gathered.

  I slammed my pointer finger over my lips to shush her while holding on to her shoulders for support. “Don’t judge me.”

  Her face was flushed and her eyes wild, just like how I imagined mine were after the amount of wine we’d just consumed. “No, Camila. You said you were over him.”

  “I am,” I huffed, feeling indignant as I spoke. I was still furious at Ridge for treating me the way he had, and I was just drunk enough to tell him. “I’m going to tell him what an asshole he is.”

  She looked doubtful as she turned to the large crowd then back to me and sighed. “Someone could see you.”

  Josie had no idea how easy it had become for me to sneak away. “No one will even notice I’m gone. You’ll see.” I started my jaunt down the hill before she could stop me, but I could still hear her final words at my back.

  “I know someone who will notice,” she warned.

  Ignoring the fact that she was right and that Trip had probably been looking for me for hours, I continued on my path, already relaxed at the thought of being shrouded by the vines on either side of me.

  Fall was my favorite season in the vineyard, when the grapevines were fully in bloom and perfectly ripe for picking. There was nothing like seeing a year’s work spread out for hundreds of acres right before your very eyes. Snipping those grapes from the vines gave me a heaping dose of satisfaction.

  But fall was also a bittersweet time. Once winter came along to lay snow on the fields and the vines grew dormant, it would be at least six months before buds began to sprout fresh fruit. That left six months in between for pruning, an act to encourage new growth. In those six months, grape production turned into a plentiful winery season.

  While my family lived for our summers and falls, the majority of visitors in Telluride lived for the winter, when the slopes were packed with snow and the entire town shifted into tourist mode. The season was great for our winery, which held tours by the hour every single day. They were always full, bringing in large amounts of our profit while the newly stocked barrels of wine hibernated with their juices fermenting in the cave cellar.

  While trying to hold in my drunk giggles, I passed by some guests who were perusing the grapes and made my way down to the first landing. Drunk or not, the vineyard was where I would rather be—getting lost in a sea of purple and green, breathing in the sweet scent around me, and on my way to him.

  Once harvest season began, sneaking off to the hilltop always became a lot harder. While the vineyard’s branches became bare, the cornfield went through a change of its own. The field slowly flattened to nothing but an empty plot of land with rolling hills and a white ranch-style house off in the distance where Ridge and Harold lived.

  “Where are you sneakin
g off to, young lady?”

  My pulse raced, and I snapped my head around to find Gus, our groundskeeper, who was walking the property. I laughed as relief flooded me, then I smiled at him. I’d always suspected he had turned a blind eye when I jaunted off on my adventures. Raising a finger to my lips, I said, “I’ll be right back. Please don’t say anything to Papa.”

  He raised his hands, indicating he wasn’t about to get involved. “Not my business. I didn’t see anything. Just be careful out there.”

  “I always am.”

  Once I reached a section of the vineyard where I lost sight of the party above, I started to run faster. I entered the woods and was immediately shrouded in darkness, but I made it all the way to the bridge before stopping. Squeezing my eyelids shut, I took in a deep breath. That was usually the point in my journey when I got my second wind. Something felt different that night.

  My heart was just beginning to steady when I caught movement in my peripheral vision. A rustle of branches sharpened my focus as I slowly searched my surroundings. For a second, I thought it might be a deer or bird cutting through the woods. I’d been galivanting around those woods for years, and I’d never seen any wildlife bigger than that near the bridge. Even though the surrounding land had been fenced in decades ago, that didn’t stop the occasional creature from wandering in. But something about the icky feeling that entered my chest told me whatever I was hearing was something else.

  A crunching noise caused my heart to jolt. I knew what a boot sounded like when it stepped on dry leaves and sticks. I jerked my head up and looked around to find that I was still completely alone. “Gus?” I called, wondering if he had decided to follow me.

  No one responded.

  All my senses were on high alert. Just because I acted reckless at times didn’t make me a novice when it came to the wilderness. If anything, being more adventurous had taught me how to be hyper-aware of my surroundings. And I knew when I was being watched.

  13

  The Hunter

  The hunter’s lips curved into a wicked grin when he spotted the deer through his night goggles. He had been tracking the beautiful buck for the past ten minutes while it drank from the stream and journeyed slowly through the woods. With his arrow readied and his fingers already pulling the bowstring, he waited for the right moment to release it.

  Killing the creature at his first spotting would have been too easy. The hunter craved the adrenaline of the chase. The kills he enjoyed took his patience and aim to a whole other level. The moment the buck caught on to his presence and started to run off—that would be the time to shoot.

  The hunter took another step closer. Crunch went the branches and twigs beneath his heavy boots, causing the deer’s beady eyes to snap toward him. Got him. The deer took off, climbed up the side of the creek, then made a break for it through the woods.

  Adrenaline shot through the hunter as he prepared for the kill. His shoulder had just lifted slightly as he reached his arch point and prepared for release when another figure entered his vision, ruining his shot.

  He had assumed the section of woods near the bridge would be clear with both fields in harvest mode, festival and all. It should have been the perfect time for him to hunt in a territory he would normally shy away from, considering how close it was to the neighboring fields.

  He cursed under his breath before realizing who it was. Dark hair, tanned skin, and a white dress came into view. The girl’s eyes were wide, her normally confident demeanor clearly gone. She looked as if she’d been startled by the same footsteps that had spooked the deer.

  He hadn’t expected Camila to step into his crosshairs, but seeing fear light up her expression made his arousal grow thick and heavy between his legs.

  By the looks of her dirty white dress, her wild and knotted hair, and her stained bare feet, she’d already had her fun at the festival—an event the hunter had already left hours ago to hunt on land he should have had free rein of that evening. Of course Camila had to be the one to ruin his fun. Anger blew through him in the next moment when he realized she was off to find the boy.

  If Patrick Bell knew where his daughter had run off to, he would kill the boy then probably want to kill his daughter too. As much as the hunter would love to see how that would play out, he couldn’t let that happen. If anyone was going to end Camila’s life, it would be him—after he secured what was rightfully his.

  At sixteen years old, she was ripening nicely but not yet ready for the kind of harvest that the hunter had planned for her. A different type of energy coursed through him, then his deep scowl curled into a smile.

  Her time was coming, but for the moment, he decided to have a little more fun. It was time to teach the girl a lesson about the dangers of playing in the woods.

  14

  Camila

  The flutter and scraping of brush and rocks against the ground came out of nowhere. What sounded like a giant dog scurrying off through the woods, probably running away from me, scared me more than I would ever be willing to admit. I didn’t get scared of the woods—or at least, I never had before.

  I took a slow step forward then another and another, forcing my breaths to steady even though my pulse was still racing. With the bridge at my back, I started to calm, blaming my paranoia on my drunken state. So what? An animal ran off. It could have been a cluster of bunnies, for all I know.

  Laughing at myself, I shook my head and picked up my pace, leaving all the tension and fear that had just racked my body behind.

  But my relief came too fast. A loud whistling noise zoomed past my head, so close that a breeze hit my face. A snap followed, its impact reverberating through the woods. My heart was in my throat, and I couldn’t even scream. All I could think to do was run as fast as my feet would carry me.

  15

  Ridge

  Long after Harold had left with Bruno, I was standing in the field, watching the sun start to dip in the sky, when a figure burst from the woods and started running toward me. A jolt shot through my heart at the sight of the vineyard girl, whom I had no business feeling things for. She was dressed in white, her dress and legs were stained purple, and her eyes were wide, like she was frightened. Even then, she was a beautiful sight.

  “Whoa!” I said as she slammed into me with her neck turned in the direction she’d come from.

  Her breathing was heavy as she hugged me, and my arms instinctively found their way around hers. I searched the field behind me, where Harold had taken off from long ago, and sighed when I verified that he was nowhere in sight.

  “For all you knew, I could have been Harold,” I scolded her, though my voice was gentler than it would have been if she weren’t shivering in my arms.

  “I’m glad you’re not Harold,” she mumbled into my shirt.

  I gulped. The feel of her in my arms went against my better judgment. The affection I felt for Camila didn’t erase the last six months of destruction her father had caused to Harold’s farm. “The party’s that bad, huh?” I said sourly.

  She peeled herself away from me and shook her head. “No. I mean I don’t know, but—there was something in the woods.”

  I chuckled in surprise, unable to help myself. Camila never feared a thing, especially when it came to nature. A bear could approach her, and she would probably pet it instead of freaking out.

  “Seriously, Camila? We’re surrounded by the Colorado wilderness. There are millions of critters in those woods.”

  She shook her head, flustered. “Listen to me,” she demanded. “Someone was out there.” She shivered, causing a chill to run up my spine. “I could feel it. And I think they shot at an animal, but it had already run off.”

  I made a face. “I thought you said there were no hunters out here.”

  “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe someone found a way in and mistook me for a deer.”

  I cringed, not believing it for a second. “Even so, if there was a gunshot, I would have heard it.”

  “It wasn’t a gun.
Or maybe whoever it was had a silencer.” Her eyes widened like she’d figured out the mystery. “My papa used to use those.”

  I shook my head. “No way. I would have heard that too.”

  She thought for a second. “A bow and arrow, then.” She groaned. “Whatever it was went right by me. I could feel it. And it hit something, but it didn’t sound like an animal.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I just ran. I didn’t know what to do.”

  I didn’t want to show her that I was starting to freak out on the inside. While I’d laughed at first at her fear, I started to realize that Camila being genuinely afraid could actually mean that she was terrified for good reason.

  Seeing Camila like that, like a deer in the headlights and shaking, made my heart hammer into my throat. “Stay here, okay? I’m going to check it out.”

  “No!” She grabbed my arm and dug her nails in so hard that I yelped. “What if someone’s really out there? I don’t want you to be their next target.”

  I reached into the front compartment of the tractor and pulled out a shotgun Harold kept there. He was always ready to defend his land however he needed to. “I’ll be fine.”

  With a final warning glance telling her to stay put, I walked toward the woods, using the flashlight I’d grabbed to help me see my way through. After a good ten minutes of a thorough search, I walked back to my tractor, where Camila was standing. “Nothing.”

  She narrowed her eyes when she realized that I was laughing. The way her face turned red and her lips pursed only made me laugh harder.