Tread Softly

  After returning from Karen's tent, Scott hadn't bothered to put his own cap on. He should've. His head was cold, and the rolled-up jeans he used as a pillow felt hard.

  He scooted lower until his head was covered, and brought up an arm to cushion it. A thick, soft sleeve pressed against the side of his face. Karen's sweatshirt. He sniffed it. There was a mild, fresh scent that brought a memory of crawling into her sleeping bag, huddling against her warmth, lifting the sweatshirt up over her breasts. She was without it now. He imagined how she would look wearing only the gray sweatpants. That gave him an erection. Swell, he thought.

  He concentrated on how to conceal the sweatshirt. If the kids should see it . . . but Benny was still asleep and he heard no one stirring about the campsite. If he got up now, he could hide it in his pack, which was just outside the tent. He might wrap the sweatshirt in something, just to be safe. No telling whether Julie would actually be asleep.

  Hell, if Julie was still sleeping, he could take the sweatshirt right over to Karen's tent and ... no, too risky.

  He didn't want to leave the snug warmth. He could just stay here. Take off the sweatshirt and leave it hidden in the bottom of the bag until later. Wait right here until the nice hot sun broke over the ridge. . . . But that might be an hour. My teeth are floating!

  Quickly, he pulled off the sweatshirt. He shoved it down low in the bag, unzipped the side, and climbed out. He gritted his teeth so hard his jaw ached. Funny, he thought, how the cold didn't bother him so much when he was sneaking out at night. It's all in the mind, he told himself. Sure. Feels more like it's in the bones. Sitting on the slick cover of his sleeping bag, he unrolled his jeans. He pushed his legs in, and leaned back slightly. He stifled a yelp as his shoulders met the cold, wet wall of the tent. Ducking away, he grabbed his cotton shirt and pulled it on.

  He snatched up his hiking boots. Fresh socks were tucked inside them. He willed his hands to stop quaking, but they didn't obey. Finally, he managed to tug the socks over his feet. He shoved his feet into the boots. The cold of the boots, still damp from yesterday's sweat, seeped through his socks.

  Why the hell does anyone go camping? he asked himself. We're a bunch of damn masochists.

  He tucked the laces under the boot tongues. Even if he wanted to tie them, his hands were shaking too badly.

  He crawled toward the tent flap, then remembered Karen's sweatshirt. He glanced at Benny. Still asleep. Reaching into the warmth of his sleeping bag, Scott pulled out the sweatshirt. He tucked it inside his shirt, and crawled outside.

  He glanced at the two sleeping bags, some twenty feet away, stretched out side by side near the circled rocks of the fireplace. They didn't seem quite as far apart as the first night. Interesting. The tan hood of Julie's warm-up suit was all he could see of her. He quickly opened his pack, stuffed the sweatshirt deep inside, and rushed off into the trees behind the tents.

  When he returned, he felt a lot better. If he could just get a fire started, he knew he would feel terrific. Fooling with it, though, he'd be sure to wake up Julie and Nick.

  Their sleeping bags were no more than a yard apart. Very interesting, that. He was glad Julie seemed to like the boy. The way the trip had started, he'd been afraid of a disaster. Since meeting Nick, however, she'd been acting civil. Her resentment of Karen's presence seemed to have faded to the point where it was hardly noticeable. He supposed he could thank Nick for that.

  And for picking up Julie's spirits in general. After getting dumped by that turkey, Clemens, she needed a friend.

  O'Toole the matchmaker.

  He took a small satchel and towel from his pack, and walked silently past the tent, heading for the stream. He smiled as he walked.

  Julie would croak if she knew he'd planned it this way. When Flash first mentioned taking his family on a week-long backpacking trip, Scott had imagined spending time in the high mountains alone with Karen. It'd be a shame, though, to leave the kids home. Maybe a trip would help to pull Julie out of her depression. . . . Then he thought of Flash's son, a handsome, reliable kid, a bit on the quiet side, but only a year older than Julie. If the two should hit it off at all, Julie might forget about that rat Clemens and start enjoying life again. So he'd suggested to Flash that their families join forces for the trip, and Flash had jumped at the idea.

  Seems the little scheme had paid off.

  The two kids were getting along pretty well — even better than Scott had expected. They didn't act smitten, but it was obvious that they enjoyed each other's company, and who knew what might be going on in their minds? Better, maybe, not to know. Just be glad Julie's back to normal.

  At the stream, he spotted a place where sunlight slanted down through a gap in the trees. The bright swath, hazy with dust motes, fell upon a cluster of rocks not far away. He tramped through the bushes and stepped out onto the rocks. For a long time, he stood motionless, letting the warmth seep into him.

  When he felt sufficiently thawed, he took off his shirt. He crouched low and cupped the cold water into his mouth. Then he brushed his teeth. He managed to raise a thin lather on his face, using a biodegradable soap, and began to shave with a straight razor.

  "You're a terrible disappointment."

  He looked downstream. Karen, in her sweatpants and parka, was standing on a log bridge, arms folded across her chest, staring at him. "Come on over here where it's warm," he called. He continued to shave while she hurried toward him. She leaped onto a flat rock beside him.

  "Oh, this is better."

  "And why am I such a disappointment? Or don't I want to know?"

  "Using a razor," she said in a mocking tone. "I would've expected a macho guy like you to shave with a dull knife."

  "Tried it once. Half my face came off with the whiskers. This is far superior. Gives a nice, close shave without the inconvenience of a bloodbath." Smiling up at her, he said, "Did you come by for a shave?"

  A blush darkened her face. "My legs, you mean?"

  "Also your legs, if you like."

  "Nasty man."

  "Is that a no?"

  "Other people are up and around."

  "Damn." He swirled the blade through the water, wiped it dry across a leg of his jeans, and folded it shut. He splashed water on his face. When the soap was rinsed off, he picked up his towel. "Sleep well?" he asked as he dried his face.

  "Like a rock."

  "No more dreams?"

  "Not bad ones. How about you?"

  "I'll tell you about mine tonight."

  "Oh ho-ho!"

  "When I bring back your sweatshirt." He stood up and lowered the zipper of her parka. She wore nothing under it. He slid his arms inside and around her back, and pulled her against him. She was smooth and warm.

  "Good morning," she said.

  He kissed her.

  Then there were voices in the distance. Reluctantly, Scott eased away from her.

  "Nobody's here yet," she said, and lifted his hands to her breasts. She held them there. Her nipples were firm under his palms. She sighed and her head tilted back, eyes shut against the sun.

  "Wanton woman," Scott whispered.

  "Wantin' you," she said. She pressed his hands firmly against her, then let go.

  Scott moved his hands down the undersides of her breasts, down her ribs, inward as her velvety skin sloped to her belly. Then he pulled together the lower corners of her parka and fitted the zipper into its slot. He raised the tab about three inches. "There."

  "Oh, charming."

  Someone came tramping through the bushes. With an exaggerated look of alarm, Karen jerked the zipper to her throat. The footfalls grew louder.

  Scott had time to turn away, crouch, and slip his razor into the satchel before Flash appeared downstream near the log bridge. The man was already dressed in his knit shirt, plaid shorts, and boots. His mussy fringe of red hair was the only clue that he'd just crawled out of his sleeping bag. He squatted by the stream and dipped an aluminum pot into the water.

 
"Morning!" Karen called.

  He looked over and waved. "Tally-ho, mates!"

  Scott grinned up at Karen. "Mates?" he asked.

  "Nautical jargon," she said quietly.

  "Ah. Afraid he was being a wise guy." Standing up, Scott yelled, "Ahoy and avast, are ye of a mind to weigh anchor?"

  "Ain't had me coffee yet," Flash called back.

  "Then we'll sail for Java." To Karen, he said, "Shall we be off?"

  "Aye, matey."

  "Meet you in the galley," Scott called.

  They made their way back to camp. Julie, still in her warm-up suit, was feeding sticks to the fire. Nick's sleeping bag was empty, but he was nowhere to be seen. One of the twins was walking into the woods with a roll of toilet paper. Alice, bundled in her coat, was tearing open a plastic bag of powdered eggs with her teeth.

  "Back in a jiff," Karen said, and headed for her tent.

  In his own tent, Scott saw that Benny was still asleep. "Up and at 'em," he said, finding a foot through the down-filled bag and giving it a small shake. The boy raised his head and looked around, one eye covered by his red stocking cap. "Sleep well?"

  "Yeah." Benny reached into the boot by his head, and pulled out his glasses. The lenses were fogged up. He tugged off his cap and put the glasses on anyway, then scrunched up his face as if that might help him to see better. "Where'd you go?"

  "What?"

  "I woke up and you weren't here."

  "I've been up for a while," Scott told him.

  "No, I mean last night."

  Oh, Christ, he thought. He couldn't lie to his son, but how could he tell the truth? "I took a little walk," he said.

  "See any coyotes?"

  "Not a one. You better haul yourself out of there and get dressed. Breakfast'll be ready before you know it." Before Benny might be tempted to question him further, he backed out of the tent.

  "Ahoy!" Flash said, walking by with a full pot of water.

  "Avast," Scott said. "I'll get my stove going." He took his Primus stove from his pack and carried it over to the fire.

  Julie was there, stretched out on her sleeping bag to squeeze the air out before attempting to mash it into its stuff bag.

  "Have a good night?" he asked her.

  "My feet froze, but aside from that ..."

  "Maybe wear an extra pair of socks." Hanging onto its key chain, he dangled the stove over the flame to heat the fuel. Thank God that Julie, at least, wasn't aware of his nighttime forays. The truth probably wouldn't upset Benny, but Julie ... If Benny should mention his disappearance last night, she'd guess at once what he'd been up to. She might not throw a fit, but her resentment would surface and she would do her best to make everyone miserable. Probably even start sleeping in the tent just so it wouldn't happen again.

  Should've just tented with Karen in the first place. Well, with the Gordons along they couldn't have done that anyway.

  He swung the stove away from the campfire flames, and set it inside its aluminum holder.

  "You got that sucker going yet?" Flash asked, coming up behind him.

  "Stand back and get ready to duck."

  Flash scraped the last of his scrambled eggs and bacon bits from the bottom of his dish. "Ah, that was good stuff. Want me to polish off yours for you?" he asked Rose.

  "No."

  "Aw, come on. It'll only weigh you down."

  "Daddy!"

  "Let her finish it," Alice said. "Have some Grape Nuts if you're still hungry."

  "Bleah."

  "It's good roughage."

  "So is bark. Doesn't mean I want to eat a tree." He looked at the twins. "Everything out of your tent?" They nodded as they shoved forkfuls of egg into their mouths. "Let's get to it, Nick."

  Nick, on the other side of the fire, took a sip of coffee, nodded, and stood up. They went over to the tent and started taking it down. They worked in silence, pulling the guy lines, Flash holding the front upright while Nick folded the rear forward, then easing the front backward. When the tent was flat, they removed the collapsible rods, pulled out the stakes along its sides, and folded it into thirds. Flash rolled it up with the rods inside. Nick held the plastic stuff bag open, and Rash shoved the tent into it.

  They stepped over to the other tent, and began to repeat the process.

  "So long, over there," a voice called.

  Looking up, Flash saw three teenaged girls through the trees. They were on the main trail, hiking single file.

  " 'Bye," Nick yelled. "Have a good trip back."

  "Watch out for the crazy woman," warned the girl in the lead. Then the three vanished among the trees.

  Nick eased the rear of the tent forward.

  "Those the gals you ran into last night?" Flash asked.

  "Yeah."

  "What's this about a crazy woman?"

  "Nothing much," Nick said. He shrugged as if it were unimportant, but his eyes looked worried. "They told us they ran into some weird old lady yesterday at a lake the other side of the pass. I guess she yelled at them, or something."

  "What for?"

  "I don't know. They just thought she was crazy."

  "Takes all kinds, I guess."

  "Hope we don't run into her."

  "Don't worry about it. Any crazy old bag gives us any lip, we'll stomp her. Right?"

  Nick gave a nervous laugh. "Sure thing."

  Heather grimaced, lips drawn back and teeth clenched, as she pushed her left foot into her boot. "What's wrong?" Alice asked.

  "Nothing."

  "Let me see." She squatted down beside the girl. "Take your boot off."

  "Really, Mom, it's all right."

  "I'll be the judge of that."

  With a reluctant sigh, Heather pulled off her boot. She peeled the wool sock down her ankle. The skin above her heel was gray, as if smudged with dirt. She winced when Alice pressed it. "Arnold, would you come over here?"

  He was crouched over his pack, securing its flap. He looked over his shoulder. "What's wrong?" "We have an injury here."

  "Oh, shit," he muttered. He hurried over.

  "A bruised Achilles tendon," Alice said.

  Arnold gently rotated the foot. Heather's face showed pain. "It's all right," she insisted.

  "How did this happen?" Alice asked.

  Heather shrugged.

  Rose, who'd been sitting on a rock nearby and watching, said, "I'll tell you. It was that klutz, Benny. He kicked her last night."

  "He didn't kick me, he stepped on me."

  "Shit."

  "Arnold!"

  "Does it hurt much?" he asked.

  "No. Really."

  "I thought I saw you limping," Alice said. "Good heavens, Heather, why didn't you tell us about it?"

  The girl shrugged, and pulled up her sock.

  "I bet," Rose said, "she just didn't want to get Benny in trouble. She's got a crush on him."

  "I do not!"

  "Do, too."

  "Knock it off," Arnold muttered. He frowned at Heather. "You can walk on it okay, though, right?"

  "Yeah. It's fine."

  "Well, we'll try to take it easy today. If it gives you too much trouble, we'll figure something out."

  "Let's leave her behind," Rose said. "So the coyotes can eat her."

  "That's enough out of you, young lady."

  "All right," Arnold said. "Let's haul it. I've got a feeling this'll be a long day."

  Chapter Fifteen__________

  Nick stopped at the trail sign. It read CARVER PASS, 2 MI. Leaning against a rock to ease the weight of his pack, he looked down into the valley. Lake Parker was there in the distance, as blue as the sky, its north shore hidden among the trees. The south shore was mostly barren rock. He spotted the outcropping he'd climbed down last night, and felt a small tremor of the fear that had numbed him when he came unexpectedly upon the two girls. Then he smiled, remembering Rose's shriek and the way she'd scurried up the rocks. It had been quite a little adventure. Damn it, though. Poor Heather. They should
've just stayed in camp after all.

  "Hand me my water bottle?" Julie asked.

  "Sure."

  She turned away. Nick unzipped a side pocket of her pack, and pulled out the green plastic container. He watched Julie tilt the bottle to her lips and drink. Her face was burnished with sunburn, her nose peeling a bit. The leather band of her beret was dark with sweat. When she finished drinking, she offered a drink to Nick. He took a few swallows, and slid the bottle back into her pack.

  "This is gonna be a bear," she said.

  "Yeah. Especially for Heather."

  "That idiot brother of mine."

  "Looks like it'll be switchbacks from here to the top."

  "Don't you just love switchbacks?"

  "On the bright side, it'll all be downhill to Lake Wilson."

  "If we can just make it to the top."

  Down the trail, Scott and Karen appeared, hiking side by side through the shadows. "Let's hold it up," Scott called. "Wait for the others."

  "How's Heather doing?" Julie asked.

  "Holding her own."

  They waited. Soon, Nick saw Rose coming up the trail. His father and mother were a short distance behind the girl. Dad was carrying Heather's red backpack like an unwieldy grocery bag. Nick hurried down. Taking the pack from his father, he saw Benny and Heather. They were far back. Heather, limping along with the aid of Nick's blackthorn stick, laughed at something Benny said. A good sign. At least she wasn't whimpering with pain.

  Nick turned away. He trudged up the trail ahead of his parents.

  "Is that pretty heavy?" Julie asked.

  "Not as bad as ours."

  Karen stepped toward him. "Let me feel." She took Heather's pack from his arms. "Why don't we split up what's in it? We'll each carry some, and nobody'll be stuck with lugging around a full pack all day."

  "Not only pretty, but brilliant," Dad said. "Any objections?"

  Rose wrinkled her face, but nodded with defeat. Everyone else acted as if it were a great idea. Heather watched, looking embarrassed, while packs were opened and rearranged to make room for her belongings. When her father started to lash her empty pack to his own, she finally objected. "I can carry that."