“Pick up where we left off?” Bert asked.
“Before the rude interruption.”
“Fine with me.”
Rick twisted the burning stub of his cigar against the rock by his hip. Then he rolled the remains between his thumb and forefinger, crumpling the cigar to flakes of brown leaf that drifted down onto the trail.
He looked at Bert. She was beside him, leaning back against her pack, her legs stretched down to the trail. Her hat with its one side turned up rested on her thigh, held there by the weight of her curled hand on its brim. Her belly was the color of dry sand. It had light, downy hair that was almost too fine to see. Her shirt was tied below the swell of her breasts. Her mouth was open slightly. Specks of sweat glistened above her lip and below her dosed eyes. The hair across her forehead shone golden in the sunlight and moved as the soft breeze blew through it.
Maybe she was simply resting. Maybe she was asleep.
Rick decided not to disturb her.
There was no reason to hurry.
He felt perfectly content. So far, it had been one helluva trip, he reflected, and in some strange way he was sorry that it was all over. Back in civilization he wondered if they’d still feel the same way about each other. The same way as they did now.
Wide open spaces—and a touch of danger—did funny things to people. Heightened their senses. Made them think things they wouldn’t normally think—or feel. What if... well, suppose Bert didn’t feel the same about him when she hit the real world again.
What if...
He hoped not. He sincerely hoped not.
Meanwhile, he was quite content. He wouldn’t mind sitting here all day, he thought. Just looking at her...
Chapter Twenty-five
It was late when they woke next day. Ten-thirty. No nymphets invaded their space. No teen thugs. No Angus. They were alone. Just as they’d planned from the first, a vacation together, away from it all. Rick lay back and thought how different things would’ve turned out if only it had stayed that way.
No Andrea to disturb his dreams. No Bonnie to give him the snake-eye. Yeah, so they could still have met up with The Three Thugateers. And Angus, the Wild Man of the Mountains. In an ideal world, he supposed he and Bert could have handled all four of those dudes. Could’ve and would’ve, most likely.
With some help from my trusty equalizer...
Rick frowned. Not for the first time did he bitterly regret Bert having tossed his gun into the lake. Oh well, at least we have our knives—and I suppose in an emergency we can hurl a nifty rock or two.
Bonnie’s hatchet would’ve been useful ...
Bert’s eyes were closed, but she was smiling.
“You thinking what I’m thinking, honey?”
“Mmm ... maybe. just depends. What are you thinking?”
“That I could murder a coffee. And a long lazy swim.”
“Oh great!” Rick said. “And bring the wrath of that goddamn Angus down on our heads again!”
Bert faced him and leaned up on an elbow. She was naked, happy and smiling. The forefinger of her free hand traced slow circles on his chest.
“Hey. Ricky baby. Think positive. That’s all over now. This is us, remember? We’re on vacation and having a great time. Come on lazybones, let’s go. Race you to the coffee pot!”
She swung back the flap of her bag and stretched luxuriously. She could afford to—as of right now she had him all to herself. Rick watched her smooth tanned back and the way her arms twisted provocatively above her head as she stretched. He reached out to touch her skin, then gave a sigh of resignation and let his hand drop. Plenty of time for that later.
Sins of the flesh!
Whoa boy, for a moment there you sounded like our lunatic preacher...
“Go on, get the coffee going, woman, and let a man get dressed in peace!”
They were alone now. Together. He savored the thought like a kid with a special Christmas toy. He had this all-over warm feeling because he knew they both cherished the joy of being together—the tenderness of it.
Nothing else mattered.
They’d been through hell and come through the other side okay. From here on in it’s vacation time, folks.
Enjoy!
They heated up and drank what was left of last night’s coffee. It tasted gritty, bitter. Like something from the bottom of a lion’s cage, but hey, what the heck? Right now it was nectar from the gods.
“Let’s just mosey around awhile before we set off back on the trail,” Bert said. “Let’s live a little; enjoy ourselves. Might as well, since we’re here.”
“Suppose we meet up with Angus?”
“Then we’ll turn right around and get back on the trail again. Whatever. C’mon, Rick. We can’t keep saying what if? We’re two responsible people. Innocent people, doing what hundreds of other responsible, innocent people do every year. Hit the trail and enjoy this great big beautiful country of ours!”
He held up his hands and said, “Okay, okay. Let’s do it.”
It was hot on top of the ridge. The blinding sun scorched their heads, despite the hats they wore. Rick checked his wristwatch. Two forty-five, near enough. They’d been on the back-of beyond trail an hour and a quarter. Before that, they’d lingered over coffee, eaten beans and a couple of oaty breakfast bars. Then they’d spent some time in the stream. He sure could use that cool stream water right now. He imagined himself naked, scooping it up in cupped hands. All sparkling and cold. Sluicing down over his head, his shoulders, chest, and trickling all the way to his feet.
“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Bert asked.
“Probably. It’s goddamn hot up here.” He swatted away a bunch of mosquitoes swarming around his head. They parted, and came back for more. Persistent little bastards. Sizing him up for grub. He splatted one on his arm. It squelched red. His blood, he guessed. Or maybe Bert’s. Or...
Bert pointed to a finger of pale gray smoke curling skyward. It came from a cabin, halfway down the other side of the ridge. “Who’d live in a place like that? Kinda isolated don’t you think?”
They stared at the cabin. It was a dilapidated place, sprawling in an untidy heap, part hidden amidst the tall dark pines. It looked like a good place not to visit.
So who suggested it might be an adventure to take a closer look? Rick couldn’t remember. Whatever. At the time, it seemed okay to investigate and discover who needed isolation so desperately as to put up sticks out here in the wilderness.
On the way down Rick decided that it was a bad idea, breaking in on somebody’s solitude like this. But Bert insisted. “It’s an adventure, Rick. We are on vacation after all, aren’t we?” The way she looked at him, all innocent and eager, almost made Rick change his mind. Trying hard to convince himself, he reasoned that, time-wise, a slight detour wouldn’t make a major difference. And they didn’t exactly have a deadline to meet...
They descended at a slow jog, their packs bumping on their backs, propelling them forward.
“Did anybody mention climbing back up the mountain with these packs on our backs?” Rick muttered, under his breath.
The cabin was old; fifty, sixty years old, Rick reckoned. And it was in bad repair. The filthy rag stretched across the front window looked as if it’d hung there since the year dot. A broken-down rocker with a greasy plaid cushion propped up on its seat stood on the rotting porch.