"Sounds terrific," Scott said.
"Shall I put you down for Juniper, Parker, Wilson, and the Triangles?"
"Fine by me."
He took out a form and began to fill in the information. "So, we've got you into the Triangles on night four. How long will you stay there?"
"We'll want to be within an easy hike of here by next Sunday. Maybe spend Saturday night back at Juniper."
The ranger marked it down. "If you want to see some new scenery, you can make a circle by following the Postpile trail south out of the Triangles." He marked the trail, describing the lakes along the way, explaining that the return route was shorter and mostly downhill.
"So, we'll figure on two nights at the Triangles, then a night at Rabbit Ears, a night at Lake Tobash, and then back to Juniper. Should be a fine trip." The ranger reversed the permit form and pushed it toward Scott. "Would you please read this and fill out the rest?"
Scott studied the sheet. He wrote his name and address, and the number of people in his party. He signed it, and paid the permit fee. The ranger tore off a section and gave it to him.
"Okay, you're all set." He pointed at the screen door. "About a hundred yards that way, you can pick up the trail."
"Thanks for all your help," Scott said.
"That's what I'm here for. Have a real good trip."
They all thanked him and left the cabin.
"Well," Karen said. "That was painless."
"The pain starts when we put our packs on."
"He was neat," Benny blurted. "Did you see those neat rifles?"
"He had a nice Winchester in that rack," Scott said.
"Do you suppose he lives up here all the time?" Julie asked.
"Should've asked him."
She shrugged.
"I imagine he goes down before the snow closes the road."
"It's probably beautiful here in winter," Karen said.
"Yeah, at Christmas," Benny added. Hurrying ahead of the others, he turned around and walked backward. He raised his hands like a choir leader. " 'Dash-in' through the snooow,' " he started to sing, waving his arms.
"Forget it, Mitch," Julie muttered.
He ignored her and continued to sing until she hurled a pinecone at him. It bounced off his shirt. Laughing, he whirled away and ran the final distance to the car.
"He's so juvenile," Julie said, as if to herself.
Scott smiled. "Must run in the family." He patted Karen's back. "Do you think you can stand this for a week?"
"No sweat," she said.
When they reached the car, Scott opened the trunk and lifted out a pack. His T-shirt rode up as he crouched to set the pack down. Karen glanced at the revealed strip of bare skin and the band of his jockey shorts. She remembered Meg's remark, Hope you're not planning to screw the guy. We'll see, she thought, we'll see.
He took out the other packs and propped them upright against the rear bumper. He handed Karen her floppy felt hat. She put it on, and turned up the front brim.
"Gabby Hayes," Scott said.
"Gee, thanks."
As he opened the top of his Kelty bag to put his shirt away, Karen heard a car engine. She looked up the shadowy road. A station wagon appeared, bouncing over the ruts.
"Is it them?" Benny asked.
"Yep," Scott said. "Looks like they made it."
The driver, a broad-faced, florid man with a bald crown and a red fringe of hair over his ears, pulled in beside them and stopped. "How'd you beat us up here?" he asked as he climbed out.
"Sheer skill," Scott told him.
They shook hands.
"Karen, this is Arnold Gordon."
"Call me Flash," he said.
"Nice to meet you," Karen said, and shook his big hand.
The others climbed from the car: a thin teenaged boy with his father's freckles and a full head of red hair; a short, rather chubby woman with a pixie haircut; two slim girls, maybe ten years old. Though twins, the girls were dressed differently; one wore her blond hair in pigtails, while the other had a ponytail. That should help me keep them straight, Karen thought.
Scott and Flash introduced everybody around. Karen repeated the names to herself, and called up associations to help her memory. Flash Gordon was easy. Nick was Nick Adams of "The Big Two-Hearted River," a Hemingway story she'd taught last year. Alice was a toughy. Alice, malice, phallus — no, no. Well, she'd have to work on that one. Rose and Heather, flowers. Careful you don't call them Tulip and Dandelion. "My Wild Irish Rose," Scottish heather. Remember, Rose has the ponytail. Rosy pony. The Red Pony. That should do it.
"… three-legged race at the picnic," Julie was saying to Nick.
"Oh, I remember that," he said, blushing. "And the egg toss."
"Sure. It broke all over you."
With a nod, he excused himself and turned away to help his father unload the car. The entire family had matching red Kelty packs: two huge ones like Scott's, a slightly smaller one for Alice, and a pair of child-size packs for the girls.
"Arnold tells me you're a schoolteacher," Alice said.
"Yes, that's right. High school."
"Our Nick's quite the student. He makes straight A's in math and science."
"That's very good."
"I was at the top of the class in math myself when I was in high school. Of course, that was a long time ago. I planned to be a teacher, too, but then Arnold came along and I never got around to finishing college." The challenging look in her eyes made Karen uncomfortable. Did she expect a reprimand for giving up school?
"From the looks of your children," Karen said, "you made the right choice."
The hardness left Alice's eyes, and she smiled. "Well, thank you."
"We've already secured the fire permit," Scott told Flash.
"They got a head around here?"
Scott pointed to an outhouse nestled in the shadows of trees a short distance away. "All right, gang, let's hit the facility. Enjoy it, ladies. It'll be your last look at a toilet seat for the next week."
Alice made a face at him.
"Gross," said Rose of the ponytail.
Benny met Karen's eyes. He looked amused.
The entire group started toward the stone building.
"Is it all right to leave the gear over there?" Nick asked his father.
"Who's around to meddle with it?"
"How was your trip up?" Scott asked.
"That one-lane death trap was a bitch. Poor Alice, she nearly laid an egg. Did you happen to run into a camper the size of a bus?"
"Did we."
"I had to back halfway down the mountain to let it by. A real bitch."
"Wasn't much fun," Scott agreed.
Nick watched Julie waiting by the outhouse. Soon the twins came out, and she pushed in. When the door banged shut behind her, Nick turned away. He looked toward the two cars to make sure nobody was tampering with the packs.
There was no one in sight. For all he knew, the valley was deserted except for the nine of them and the ranger. But somebody had to belong to those other two cars, so it couldn't hurt to keep an eye on the equipment.
The last time he'd seen Julie she was just a skinny kid, a tomboy. Now she had breasts and everything. She was as cute as any cheerleader at Samo, and she would be camping with him for a whole week.
The thought of that made Nick very nervous. If only she were plain, or fat, or even ugly, he might be at ease with her and they'd have a good time. How could he manage to be himself, though, with someone like Julie around?
She would probably spend the whole week ignoring him.
Probably goes steady with a football player. Messes around a lot, too. Girls like her always do. Just not with guys like me.
Who needs her?
Behind Nick, the door banged. He looked around. Julie was striding toward her father, her long legs slender and tanned, her hands flat inside the front pockets of her shorts, the white of her bra visible through her T-shirt. She glanced at Nick, but looked away quickly. Her hair bounced and swayed as she walked.