Page 18 of The Fault Between Us
Bridget shuddered at the thought of horses. “Remember when thatawful horse threw Luke and he broke his collarbone?” She wouldn’t get on one of those unpredictable beasts to save her life.
Claire didn’t answer, and Bridget saw her glance go to Red. Surely Red wasn’t still jealous of Luke? No one was more surprised than Bridget when Claire broke up with the man all of Willmar thought she was going to marry. Then Red showed up with a ring and Claire was suddenly marrying a complete stranger. She hoped today’s trip would prove to her what Claire saw in Red but so far, no joy there.
Red stepped on the gas and the truck jerked forward behind the line of paneled station wagons and pastel convertibles going into the park.
Claire showed Bridget the map of Yellowstone. “We’ll turn south here,” Claire told her, “and make a stop at the Lower Geyser Basin. Then you have to see the Grand Prismatic.” Claire pointed to a spot on something called the Lower Loop. “Then Old Faithful,” Claire went on. “We’ll have lunch at the Firehole River and a swim. Frannie will like that.”
Bridget wasn’t sure about Frannie, or touring a hot spring—and anything called the Firehole seemed risky for a swim—but she expressed as much excitement as she could manage. She played peekaboo and patty-cake with Jenny until they pulled off the road and into a jam-packed parking lot.
“What is that awful smell?” Frannie’s wail came through the small window in the back of the cab. “It smells like rotten eggs.”
Claire laughed at Frannie. “You’ll get used to it.”
They scooted out of the truck and into the searing midmorning sun. Bridget’s eyes stung and the handkerchief she held over her nose did little to alleviate the terrible odor. They followed a boardwalk with Claire reading aloud from her Haynes Guide like the schoolteacher she was. She told them about the geothermal activity in the area that made the hot springs and geysers, and the bubbling iron-red and mustard-yellow mud that belched acrid steam.
Frannie peered into the paint pots. “Looks like plain old mud to me.”
“The least you could do is take an interest,” Bridget reprimanded. Why did Frannie have to be such a pill?
Back in the truck, Jenny started to fuss and Bridget took her from Claire. She had plenty of experience with fussing babies and this was one way she knew how to help. Not more than ten minutes later, they pulled over again.
“You’ll love this,” Claire said as they found a parking spot. “The colors are fantastic.”
As they got out of the truck and Claire gave Jenny to Red, Bridget saw them exchange a smile. Red leaned down and kissed Claire. For a moment, they looked like a perfect family.
Claire turned and caught her watching them. “We went here on our third date,” she explained. “It’s always been my favorite.”
Red carried Jenny—happily kicking and cooing now, as if she were just as pleased to show off the wonders of Yellowstone as her mother—with Claire, Bridget, and Frannie following him over the boardwalk. Steam billowed toward them in hot waves. Bridget kept well back from the pool as Claire explained how the bright rings of azure, yellow, and emerald green were made by different kinds of bacteria that lived in the water. “It’s hottest at the center,” she said. “And deeper than a ten-story building.”
Frannie stepped up to the edge of the boardwalk. “I heard the tour guide over there say that a couple years ago somebody fell into one of these pools and had their skin boiled off them before they could get pulled out.”
Bridget’s stomach went queasy. “Frannie, that’s horrible.”
Frannie blew out a frustrated breath. “First I’m not taking an interest, then I’m horrible. Jeepers, I can’t do anything right.”
Bridget looked at Claire. “Did that really happen?”
Red chose that moment to loosen his tongue. “Not to people who stay on the boardwalk.”
If that was Red’s idea of a joke, it wasn’t funny.
Back in the truck, Bridget tried to forget the horrible image of someone falling into the boiling water. Hopefully, she’d never see that kind of injury when she was working at Mammoth. The truck slowed as they reached some sort of traffic jam. Red steered around a camper on theshoulder, trying to get past the slowdown. Suddenly the truck jerked to a halt, Red threw his arm out to stop Claire and Jenny as they slid forward. Bridget braced herself on the dash. A tourist with a camera slung around his neck looked over the hood in surprise, then hurried across the road.
“Idiot,” Red ground out.
“It’s a bear jam,” Claire said, seemingly unperturbed that they’d almost run someone over.
“A bear what?” Bridget’s pulse—already elevated from the almost-accident—went even higher. Red eased the truck forward, and Bridget saw a bear and two cubs in the ditch on the side of the road. A cluster of tourists took pictures of the frolicking cubs while the mother helped herself to the scraps of food the tourists tossed her way. The man with the camera was holding a hunk of bread out to the mother bear, urging her closer.
Were those people trying to get killed? Suddenly Bridget saw a flash of hot pink dart toward the bears. “Frannie!”
“Stay here.” Red threw the truck into park and opened his door.
A wave of weakness rushed over Bridget as Red walked calmly toward Frannie. She stood a few feet away from one of the cubs, her hand extended toward the bear. She saw Red’s lips move, his words too low to hear.
Bridget clutched at Claire’s arm as the big bear lurched toward Frannie. Red darted forward and grabbed Frannie’s arm, yanking her backwards. Frannie yelped in surprise and dropped—what was that? A sandwich?
Red dragged Frannie back to the truck and pushed her inside. Bridget caught a glimpse of the bear herding the cubs down the embankment and into the trees.
