Rivers end boxset volume.., p.59
River's End Boxset Volume 3, page 59
He stayed back but assumed her stoking the fire was her permission to take a few steps closer. “Do you mind?” he asked, putting his hands out closer to the heat.
“Fine.” She stood up, nearing the fire before resting a boot on one of the rocks. Then she stared at the flames.
She wasn’t much for words.
“Your horses are beautiful.” He waved at the two matching horses. Both were white with speckles of gray and black. Were they Appaloosas? One had more black than the other.
“Yeah.”
He was obviously disturbing her and she wanted nothing more to do with him. She seemed to disdain company in general. Hence, the reason she was here, obviously. But Gage found her intriguing.
“So you’re obviously not seeking any visitors or companionship. I’ll let you go. I was just surprised to find anyone up this far. There aren’t many comfortable campsites to use.”
“Exactly zero campsites as far as I know. Except this one.”
Wow, she actually said something. “Yeah. How did you discover this? It’s not easily located, that’s for sure.”
Her mouth twisted but her gaze was riveted on the fire. She finally glanced back at him. “My family used it hunting and horse-riding base. We’ve been coming here for as long as I can remember.”
“Ahh… a family refuge.”
“Yeah. I guess.”
She left Gage feeling visibly uncomfortable. He wasn’t used to such a sensation. Nor striving so hard for an innocuous conversation and interest of the person he saw before him. Especially since they were out in the middle of nowhere. Together and both surprised. But she wasn’t reacting the way he expected someone to under these circumstances.
He cleared his throat and finally simply took a step back. “Well, then… I’ll let you get back to your…”
What? Campfire? Handsawing? Camping? Solitude? He almost snorted as he pictured the lack of schedule-keeping up there. Stuff had to be done. Sure. Survival stuff. It was important, but there was no timeclock to punch or meetings to attend or any real demands on either of them. Their timelines and schedules were exclusively their own to decide. More reasons to see the beauty of this wonderful place. Maybe she was afraid of him. She was in the middle of nowhere, quite obviously alone and miles from any help if the scene turned ugly. He could see that his presence might cause her more stress than she was used to.
“Okay.”
That was it. The end of the conversation. This cowgirl wanted nothing to do with him and pressing further conversation would just make him appear pushy. Or scary. Or creepy. There was no reason to be like that. “It was nice meeting you… I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch your name.”
She smirked. “I’m not telling you my name. There’s no reason you need to know anything about me.”
“So if I see you again, what should I call you? Woman? Mountain girl? Horseback rider? What exactly do you prefer I call you?”
She pressed her lips together. “Okay. Fine. Call me Vee.”
“Vee? Like the letter?”
“Like the letter. That’ll suffice, right?”
She acted oddly paranoid. He glanced around again and she seemed prepared for more than just a few days. “You don’t live out here on a permanent basis, right?” He was kidding. But honestly? Not totally.
She didn’t seem totally maladjusted. “Nah.”
“But you must have intended to stay for awhile.”
“What makes you say that? And why do you need to know?”
“I don’t. Sorry. I’m just in the habit of making casual conversation.”
“Well, I’m not.”
Ouch. Damn. She turned her back on him and ducked back into her tent, closing the door. Okay. All right, he got that hint. Backing away from the fire and taking one final glance, Gage started back down the trail and left the strange woman in her campsite all alone.
She seemed to prefer it that way.
Gage Sullivan. With the US Forest Service. That was who he said he was. Not anyone Violet had expected to find so high in the mountains. He’d materialized from out of nowhere; that was a fact. She’d been having a normal day until his shocking appearance.
Running low on firewood, she’d climbed upstream to saw more of the old snag she was currently using for dry firewood. It was hard work to saw single-handedly through the old log. It took a good twenty minutes per round to saw through the ancient, dense, dry timber. She’d left four more rounds up there and would have to carry them back to camp.
Returning to her campsite, she’d sensed something was different. The energy had changed at her quiet spot on the earth. She’d stopped dead. Sunlight had surrounded her. Peaks of the stunning mountains towered like castles in the sky above her.
But something unexpected and new was invading her camp. She’d scanned the view through the bushes and trees. Was a bear poking around it? Or a cougar? A deer maybe? She’d highly doubted any animal was there.
Fearless and curious, she’d wondered if it were a bear? It was no match for the gun on her hip so she had no apprehension, but she also knew how rare it would be to even have to shoot a bear. No. Nah. There were only a few times when a black bear refused to go away.
But she’d seen movement. Across the creek. What the hell? What was it?
A man.
She instantly glanced around for her faithful English Springer Spanial, Monty. She didn’t see him. He was nine years old, and his hearing and eye sight were terrible. He’d have to smell the man to realize he was there. He often trotted way off into the woods while she worked. She didn’t see him anywhere.
Oh well, not like Monty was a guard dog. He’d hide behind her or go beg to be petted, at the site of a stranger. Which was part of why she felt so protective of him and loved him so much.
But a man.
That had caused a jolt of fear to ripple through her. A man was crouched beside the old heap of metal detritus left from the late forties, fifties, sixties and seventies by random campers or hunting parties of her family and friends, since they were the only ones who’d used this campsite.
Back then, people simply left the gear behind. That was before the whole area was designated as permanent wilderness for the national parks and recreation, binding it to all the rules and regulations that accompanied its status. Sometime in the sixties, these areas were preserved to remain as natural as possible. The mantra leave no trace arose about that time with the clear intention of conservation.
The only issue was that her family had been setting up camp here for longer than the law existed. Jack said they could be “grandfathered in” and allowed them to keep using the private, hidden camp. The corral was built long before the change in land status. Granted, they periodically repaired and reinforced the structure, but it was allowed to stay nonetheless.
Back in the day, they’d bury the used tin cans and coffee canisters in a holes scattered around the area, to dispose of them. Of course, garbage burying was something her family hadn’t done in probably five decades. But it had been different times. Their garbage didn’t include plastic back then, and metal and glass were usually buried for disposal.
Honestly, it tickled Violet when she discovered a relic from fifty or more years ago. She imagined it being in the hand of a distant Rydell relative of hers. Randomly, their ancient refuse seemed to percolate up through the layers of dirt and rock after heavy rains and pop right out of the ground.
The other day, she’d stepped on an old coffee tin while fixing one of the poles of the corral. She didn’t recognize the brand name but assumed it must have been the most popular brand in the sixties. Like a settle reminder that they were here once too.
The man had risen from his knees to his feet. No. Damn. How could a man invade her space?
But he had.
Who the hell was he? Way out here? It wasn’t any figure she’d recognized. She’d instantly known when her dad, uncles and cousins were around. But this guy? No way. Something had shot down her spine. Was it fear? No. She’d shaken it off. She’d refused to allow fear to determine her next move. Her initial reaction had been to turn around and hide in the surrounding trees and brush. There were endless miles of unused, raw, isolated land. The simple beauty of the creeks, streams, and rocks remained hidden under the canopy of coniferous trees. But hiding wasn’t the best response. It might work for now, unless the guy decided to come back. Maybe he’d intended to steal from her. Or rile up her horses. He must have stumbled onto the place. To her knowledge, no one except members of the Rydell family could even find it. His arrival had not been by accident.
Who was this guy? Why would he show up when she was there? Great. Damn. Crap. Tightening her grip on the wood rounds she held, she’d prepared to drop them in an instant and grab her gun if necessary. She’d sucked in a deep breath to fortify her resolve. First, she would not be scared off. She’d fully intended to appear so unconcerned about her safety and downright tough that he would not question her resolve to defend herself to the death.
Unnerved, if she were totally honest, she’d braced herself to deal with him. Her anti-social side was more than strong. It was the entire reason she’d chosen to come out here for the rest of the summer. She’d wanted to avoid any and all people, at least as much as possible. Being unprepared for anybody’s presence, she’d cringed at the idea she would have to interact. Socializing didn’t come so easy to her anymore.
She’d walked around the tent and he’d jerked up in surprise to see her when she’d simultaneously demanded, “Who the fuck are you?”
She’d said it as abrasively as she could to put him off. She’d had to establish her dominance. She’d had all the control. Caught off guard, Gage had sized her up initially, until his eyes noticed the gun at her side. Yeah, he’d seen it. And since he worked for the US Forest Service, he would instantly know the type of gun it was. Big enough to stop a bear and him. Never mind the hollow-point ammo she’d loaded in it.
Gage Sullivan, conservationist and trail builder. Yeah, a lot of good he was to let her find another way in when her tow horse was loaded with camp gear. The high side of the washed-out trail could not be safely traversed. In fact, it turned out to be one of the more death-defying rides she’d ever encountered, let alone, traversed.
It was extremely steep and all covered by old logs. They had to go high up to skirt the stumps of trees they couldn’t get around. Gage had plenty of work before the trail could be deemed passable again, and that was more than evident. Alone? Right. It appeared to be too much for anyone to repair singlehandedly. But his story was plausible. How else to explain his presence in these mountains? He obviously knew the trail well enough to detect her presence without actually observing her.
She didn’t fear or worry that he could be a crazy stalker who intended to sneak up later and cause her harm. But she couldn’t fully discount it either. She had no desire to converse with him or make small talk. She chose to be alone on the mountain. She was actually very much alone for several miles of mountain range, so she hoped Gage would realize that she had little or no desire for chit-chat.
The last thing she’d do was try to make him feel welcome. Judging by his hesitant departure, he didn’t feel welcome there and wasn’t used to such hostility.
Gage Sullivan was a gorgeous man. Violet doubted he ever felt unsure, especially with women. That just didn’t happen to men like him. He probably was surprised to find a woman who did not eye him with unmasked adoration. No smile from her in greeting, or any kind of flirtation.
He seemed a little mature, definitely older than her, but she wondered how much older. He wasn’t ridiculously older or she might have been compelled to show more respect due to their age difference. Perhaps he was in his early thirties. He had wide shoulders, and he carried himself with ease and fluidity. People who were younger or inexperienced just didn’t carry themselves like that.
He seemed to know his way around the woods too. Not so much horses, she guessed, but hiking and camping out here and braving the elements. He seemed fully at ease and confident and sure-footed. He was no day hiker or sightseer that stumbled onto her camp.
She wished he hadn’t though. She loved the sense of being invisible to the world as long as she wanted, and that’s how she felt up here. She controlled who saw her and when. She had her own kingdom up here and she held all the roles: queen, king, princess and everything in between.
But now Gage, the hiking trail-blazer, knew where she liked to hang. Great.
She waited until after he’d made his awkward departure out of her camp. Sure, he probably wanted to stay there and enjoy her toasty fire, if only to figure out what she was doing here and why she came up here? What more was she capable of? She seriously doubted he ever met a woman who was as adept with horses, camping, and living up in the mountains by themselves as she was. Naturally, that would puzzle someone like Gage. If he’d found a man instead of her, exactly like this, he’d probably never consider it odd. For a man to be alone and so amazing was not unusual.
Violet chose to do this and she was thriving and succeeding and enjoying it.
It was her escape from the ranch for the summer. That was when the Rydells offered two sessions of horse camp for at-risk youth. It was arranged through a Seattle-area-based organization called Shield Shelter. It was a good cause that she and many of her family members enjoyed providing.
All year long, they had to organize and plan for it, between gathering the necessary supplies and trying to make the entire program successful. The foster kids were transported on charter buses and housed in the Rydell River Resort. They had full access to the river for swimming, floating in inner tubes and river rafting.
They were also led into the lower mountain trails for gentle hikes and nature walks. Many have never taken nature walks before and their idea of the wilderness was something they saw exclusively in books.
Some of them liked to go horseback riding. So many kids hadn’t ever done it before. It took a crew of adult riders like Violet to coordinate so many newbies on horses. She gave them lessons and helped saddle up the throngs of horses before embarking on the proper instruction and supervision. Violet began helping when she was barely thirteen. She had already proven she was more comfortable on horseback than on her own two feet.
Now? She couldn’t stand to give any more lessons. Now she couldn’t and wouldn’t set one foot in the main arena. That was where most of the instruction and preparation for the kids took place.
Most of the camp activities were confined to the arena, including all their meals. They ate at the Rydell River Bar and Grill. Hell no. Violet refused to go there. Ever. Period. No matter the reason or the person asking her.
If someone yelled for help from the arena, and she saw that their hair was on fire, she’d never go in there or look for a bucket of water. She’d call someone else. She couldn’t help the kids any longer and being there only reminded her of that. She no longer did the things she used to love doing. She hid herself away because her failure to do the things she loved made her feel worse.
So she spent most of the summer here. This was the second summer she’d done so. Two years had passed since Preston was all but murdered in that stupid arena. The arena she wished she could blow up. Only when it was annihilated would she be happy.
Her big sister, Iris, was raped in one of the outbuildings, the mechanic shop of Rydell Rides. After her dad learned what happened to Iris, which turned out to be a random act of violence, he swore he’d find the perpetrator.
The man claimed to know her father Shane, but they still hadn’t caught him. Shane threatened to burn the building down, but wound up disassembling it. All of it. The perfectly decent shop was dismantled and a new one was built. So? It wasn’t impossible. Entire buildings could be destroyed.
Razed. Obliterated.
That’s all she wanted. To take that fucking arena off her family land.
But the arena was not just her dad’s. It belonged to the entire Rydell family and no one would destroy it. They felt bad for her and sympathized… Blah. Blah. Blah. Endless excuses for keeping it. But all Violet saw was the injustice.
She thought she was owed some justice. What Iris endured was certainly not the same as her. Iris was the victim of sexual violence, while Violet was traumatized… Honestly? She still was. That’s the only reason she sought the absolute silence and emptiness of the land she lived on right now. She had little interest or tolerance for anyone else. Especially people her own age of twenty-four years. They were always happy and healthy; they didn’t know that real life was a harsh betrayal that ripped out your lungs and heart until you couldn’t breathe or function.
But you were expected to continue regardless.
She shook it off. Not now. It didn’t matter. She had to cut more wood for the fire tonight and start boiling some water. The horses needed to be fed and watered, and there was always something else to do up there. The physical exertion was a blessing in that it ruled her thoughts and took her heart and brain out of the past, planting them directly into the present.
She picked up the axe, balanced the next round of wood for splitting and started hacking away. The effort made her shoulders, back and neck ache but it was so satisfying to leave her thoughts of the past and focus on now. She could forget what happened. Let it be.
She’d like to forget Gage too. She assumed he was telling the truth. He probably was a US Forest ranger and doing what he claimed to be doing. She didn’t think he was a serial killer or a rapist or robber who just happened upon her. Any kind of criminal on the run could hide up here. She paused with the axe in mid-air. Could be a very good place to hide… but no way. She shook her head. Don’t let your imagination run wild. Go with the most logical and likely excuse. He works for the US Forest Service so he was seeing the lay of the land before starting the trail repair. It was a whole year overdue, and very necessary. So his excuse was plausible.
He also had nice eyes.
She swung the axe way too hard as that thought drifted in. No. She didn’t care about or notice guys, men or boys anymore. None of them interested her.
