Page 32 of Wild Child
Steve stepped onto the trail and started up the path without once looking at any of us. I glanced back in wordless question and Devin shrugged with one shoulder. He'd bring up the very end, and I felt good about that. He knew to keep an eye on our backs.
"Where are we going again?" Kimball asked. He'd stopped to tilt his head back and regard the forested mountains that rolled out on either side.
"You gave no clear itinerary when you talked to Daniel," I said, “so I thought about a place called Nightingale Peak. It’s a mountain pass two days hike away. I planned on getting us there before our third night. We'll summit the pass, then head back down the same way we came up."
He made a noise in his throat. When I glanced back, Devin had an eye on Kimball, but I couldn't read his expression. Up the trail a bit, Steve had stopped to look back.
"I heard rumors in town about an old, haunted cabin up here somewhere," Kimball said without moving. "Some trapper that lived here in the 1800's. Do you know anything about that?"
Devin's brow furrowed. He'd lived here his whole life, and so had his parents. If there were rumors of anything like that, the Blaine's would know it.
"I haven't heard of that," I said. "Not at Nightingale pass."
"Could be kind of cool.” Kimball paused. “They said it was somewhere around Granite Ridge?"
Despite wracking my brain, I couldn't figure out if those words were familiar. "Doesn't ring a bell," I said.
"You got a map?"
I nodded. Kimball waved an arm. "Then we can look at it tonight, not a big deal. Let's proceed as you planned. Can't wait."
With that, he trudged on. I hesitated for only a moment before I followed a few steps behind him. My thoughts whirred for a moment until I turned around and mouthed to Devin, "Granite Ridge?"
His brow furrowed when he shook his head and mouthed, "Idiots," back.
Something in the offhand comment from Kimball unsettled me. Did he even know what mountains we were in? His awareness of such a place seemed . . . odd. Particularly for an out-of-towner. If he wanted to check out a specific cabin, why didn’t he tell Daniel when we started the guide? From what little I knew of Kimball while talking to him at the gym, he was only visiting for a few weeks and hadn’t been here before.
I knew these mountains as well as anyone except Daniel, who tracked herds of animals through these hills as a hobby and had been hiking here for over fifty years. I'd heard of almost every interesting point and knew most ridges like the back of my hand. Mountains were tricky that way, though. Get too close and you would lose all perspective. Their indomitable heights hid behind lesser peaks that would fool you for days before you realized that what you thought was your tallest challenge was nothing but a step on the path to it.
"You good, Steve?" I called after twenty minutes had passed.
He held up a hand, his back to us, and kept going. For such a large man, he held his own pretty well. I studied him from the back. His shirt hung loose, and so did the skin around his neck, as if he’d lost weight recently. A strange silence fell on the group as we continued on, at odds with the usual, bright chatter most groups maintained.
By nature, I wasn't a talkative person. The day-trip groups that I'd guided so far most often kept up conversation amongst themselves or would ask me questions along the way. Daniel would keep a steady flow of facts about wildflowers, trees, and weather in the mountains. To this crowd, however, I felt no desire to speak, and no idea what they'd want to hear if we did.
ButshouldI?
The debate over whether or not my role as guide required me to talk about useless facts or keep up information waged in my head and kept me occupied for almost an hour. If Ididneed to do that for five days, that would dramatically lessen my enjoyment of these trips.
"So," Kimball called, moments before I felt obligated to give some random facts about avalanches in the area. "How long have you two known each other?"
Thankfully, my pack hid the sudden stiffness in my shoulders from Devin, and Steve and Kimball faced away from me. Although I wasn't surewhatI expected them to ask, questions about me and Devin weren't it.
"Our whole lives," I finally said when I realized Devin wasn't going to reply. The wordswe used to be best friendsalmost followed, but it sounded too trite. Almost like a punishment, particularly when Devin had expressed interest in being friends again. In the end, not knowing what to say, I left it at that.
"Cool. You hike a lot?"
"I do," I said. I couldn’t speak for Devin anymore, could I?
Devin remained quiet. Kimball didn't push him, and I was grateful. Annoyance burned hot in me.Seriously?I wanted to say to Devin.You can't just answer the question?Before the lacking reply could make things awkward, Kimball picked the conversation back up.
"You look military to me, Dev," Kimball called. "You in the service?"
Kimball’s casual use of my nickname for Devin curled my toes, but I let it pass. Devin wouldn’t like him being that familiar either, I would imagine.
"Yeah,” Dev replied.
Relief that he'd responded, even so minutely, slipped through me. I’d take it as a step in the right direction. Kimball made a sound in his throat. I stepped off the trail to peer ahead of Kimball's bulky backpack. Steve continued in the lead, but his pace had slowed a little as we faced a gentle incline. Sweat ringed his arms and neck. He panted, but didn't seem inclined to stop. The pace he set was steady, but not impressively fast. Exactly what I'd expected from a thirty-something guy unaccustomed to the altitude.
