Wariness addled with grogginess made dressing a slow process. I pulled my hair into a ponytail, twisted it, and clipped it to the crown of my head, then poured water onto a towel and pressed it to my face, hoping to dispel my apprehensive mood. When I raised the flap of my tent and stepped outside, cool air greeted me.
As did Morgan.
“Good morning,” he said with a tip of his Stetson.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, remembering too late my less than favorable reaction to the same question, asked in a similar tone, by Morgan on the night of the concert.
Before he had a chance to answer, I looked away, distracted by the brush of something quivering against the leg of my jeans.
“Gabriel.” The cat allowed me to pick him up, and I took the rare opportunity to hug him close before glancing back at Morgan.
His green-eyed gaze roamed leisurely from my clipped hair to the hands that cradled the cat. “Miss me?”
His boyish grin was a lethal weapon as far as I was concerned. Look at me like that, and I don’t have the strength to resist you. “I haven’t had time.”
“Too bad,” Morgan said.
I agreed. White lies—and omissions—usually lead to trouble, but I hadn’t come this far to give in now.
Gabriel stiffened and leaped from my arms when Joshua stepped out of his tent. The child picked up the cat, and a word escaped, so soft and swift that I nearly missed it.
He’d said the cat’s name.
My gaze darted to Morgan’s, wondering if he had heard it, too. But my excitement turned to confusion when I caught the look of tenderness in his eyes before he turned and walked away.
Dr. Mendez stood next to the fire warming his hands. When he saw me headed his way, he grabbed a mug, and by the time I reached him, he’d filled it with coffee.
I wrapped my cold fingers around the enamelware mug and nodded my thanks. “I just heard Joshua say Gabriel’s name.”
“A good sign,” he said.
Good sign? More like fantastic. “I wish you weren’t leaving.”
“Actually, I am not.”
My sudden jerk caused the hot coffee to spill over my hand.
The doctor scooped up a towel and handed it to me. “Morgan asked me to stay.”
“But—”
“He believes Joshua will need me.”
“Of course, Joshua needs you. Why the sudden change in plans?”
“Ask Morgan.”
I smacked my mug onto the fire pit ring— “I will” —and headed off. What was going on here? First, Veronica, Ben, and Jake showed up, and then Morgan, who, out-of-the-blue, asked Dr. Mendez to extend his stay.
Though fueled by questions and a growing sense of helplessness at my continued loss of control over a tour that I had organized for Joshua, I came to an abrupt halt on seeing Morgan and Veronica huddled together. Every bit of their body language implied secrecy, which only intensified my curiosity, sense of helplessness—and anger.
Watch your back, said the Voice.
“Okay, shadow person,” I answered. “Who or what for?”
Silence.
“You’re a big help.”
I made a U-turn back to Pete’s camp kitchen. “A deluxe camper’s kitchen,” he’d called it when he first pointed it out to me. “Picked it up, used, for fifty bucks. Plenty of table space, removable hangin’ pantries, lantern hooks, and even a hanger for my nifty ‘chuck wagon’ dinner bell. Whole thing sets up in five minutes and packs up so compact I can stow it on a pack mule, no problem. How’s that for modern convenience?”
“Awesome,” I’d told him, though right about now I was more interested in the gourmet meals he was able to concoct—Dutch oven potatoes, grilled Brussels sprouts, potato boat with ham, cheese, and bacon, campfire mushrooms—than the equipment he used doing so. What I needed was a hearty breakfast to calm me down and give me strength.
Too bad Jake had the same idea.
He looked up as I approached the fire and then looked away.
Refusing to retreat like my usual weak-kneed, lily-livered self, I took the opportunity to study him. What a contrast he and Pete made. Whereas Pete sought attention, Jake shunned it. Pete was energetic, full of stories, and eager to help. Jake’s movements were slow, sly, and barely perceptible. He was as quiet as a shadow, and I feared him.
Instead of serving himself, Jake scooped scrambled eggs and beans onto a plate, topped them with bacon, and handed the steaming plate of food to me.
“Thanks,” I said.
As though connected to me by an ethereal cord of energy, Joshua appeared at my side. Without a word, Jake filled another plate and handed it to him. Their eyes met. Joshua’s hands went slack. The plate fell to the ground. “Joshua,” I cried, before directing the child to a flattened log. “Come on, sweetie. Sit down.” Back was his unfocused, thousand-yard stare, a gaze as blank as Gabriel’s. Speaking of which. I scanned the area, but the stray was nowhere in sight.
However, Veronica was.
She called to Joshua as she approached, “Hi, handsome.”
The child blinked and appeared to awaken from a deep sleep.
“How about some breakfast?” she asked.
He nodded.
I didn’t understand what had just happened here but was glad that Joshua appeared less distant. Veronica presented him with a kid-sized portion of bacon and eggs and sat at his side with an expression of deep concern.
“Good morning all,” Morgan said from behind me.
What was it with people coming up from behind unnoticed?
Ben also made an appearance and gave Morgan a manly slap on the back. “Hey, buddy. What brings you here?”
Morgan glanced my way before answering. “I was in the area taking pictures. Hope you don’t mind if I tag along.”
“The more the merrier,” Ben said, as though we were one big happy family—uninvited guests and all.
Whose tour was this anyway?
Pete, forever the guide, called for everyone to eat up, clean up, and leave the place in better shape than we found it. “Hey, Marjorie,” he said. “Hope you like water, ’cause we’re gonna be crossing some creeks and streams.”
Instantly, I was on alert. “Isn’t that dangerous this time of year?”
“Yep, but we’re gonna do it carefully.”
I glanced at Joshua, my heart hammering.
Pete continued. “Today we’re pass’n though some of the most beautiful country on the face of this earth. Might even meet up with mule deer, tree squirrels, and rodents.”
“Wonderful,” Veronica said. “I love rats.”
I reached for the mouse totem in my pouch, amazed at how much I’d come to treasure this smooth brown stone.
“Hey Morgan,” Pete called. “Prep up that camera of yours for some great National Geographic shots.”
“Will do,” Morgan said, focusing on me. I tried to mask the hurt caused by his secrecy, but knew I had failed when he frowned.
🗲🗲🗲
Surrounded by hills, valleys, oak savannas, and deep ravines, it was hard to imagine that we were only a short distance from Carmel and Monterey.
Horses snorted, saddles creaked, hoofs plodded, and birds chattered. A whiff of horse sweat accompanied by the smell of sage, pine, and vanilla hung in the air.
Morgan rode up alongside me. “You okay?”
“Yes.”
“Mad at me?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t mean to make you mad.”
I faced him in a quick, jerky motion. “Why are you here, Morgan?”
He didn’t answer my question, so I asked another, right off the top of my head—a great source for off-the-script moments and Mad Libs. “Do you think I’m selfish for what I’m trying to do?”
“Willful perhaps. Selfish, no.” Intrigued by something up ahead, he urged his horse forward and galloped off the path.
Pete laughed. “Guess Morgan’s already discovered one of my surprises.”
Morgan dismounted and began setting up his camera, alerting Veronica to something worth closer attention. She rode past me and halted next to him.
We had ridden into a valley, secluded by towering rocks. “For millions of years, this area was covered by ocean,” Pete hurried to explain, “with sediments accumulat’n at the bottom. Over time, the sediments lifted up thousands of feet by the mountain-formin’ process. That’s what you’re seein’ now.” He whistled with undisguised admiration, though he’d obviously witnessed the spectacle hundreds of times before. “Check out those colored bands.”
I marveled at the panoramas of re-oriented rock formations that jutted from between trees and chaparral in gradients of color from light grey to dark brown. And just as I thought there couldn’t be anything more enchanting, I heard the rush of water. As we neared, the rush turned into a roar. “A waterfall!”
“We’re not crossing that, are we?” Veronica asked, pointing at what appeared to be a rapidly moving river.
“It’s only a creek,” Pete said.
“You call that torrent a creek?”
Diverted from the magnificent sight of the falls, I zeroed in on the rushing water and found myself agreeing with Veronica. “How deep is it?”
“Some places are only deep pools,” Pete said. “Though the stream’s higher than usual ’cause of the winter and spring runoff.”
I studied Joshua’s pony. It looked sturdy and was likely accustomed to crossing streams. Everything would be just fine.
Joshua jerked, and I thought my heart would stop, until he pointed at a deer standing nearby, ears erect, eyes unblinking, muzzle quivering.
“I told you we’d see mule deer,” Pete said.
At the sound of Pete’s voice, the deer ran off with a stiff-legged gait.
Morgan snapped away from atop his horse with one of his sister’s discarded cameras. Through its lens, he appeared to be awakening to a world different from the one he was accustomed to and recording beauty without the pressure of needing to do it perfectly—therefore, free to do it well. He looked toward the sky and his smile faded. I followed his gaze but only saw clouds. Nothing out of the ordinary.
“We’re campin’ on the other side of the creek,” Pete said, pausing to allow his horse to dip its muzzle into the water and drink.
I wondered what it would be like to sleep with the sound of the waterfall in the distance and concluded I’d like it very much. Checking back on Joshua, I saw that Morgan now rode on one side of him and Dr. Mendez on the other.
I guided Blondie toward the creek. She stepped in and out several times before entering all the way. “Careful, careful,” I said, urging her forward. She snorted and blew at the swiftly running water, then put her head down to take a drink and apparently check the sloping stream bed for footing. “Atta girl,” I said, “take it slowly.” A little slip, but she quickly regained her equilibrium, and soon we all arrived safely on the other side.
Morgan helped Pete and Jake care for the horses while the rest of us unloaded our gear and erected our tents. Veronica scanned the sky as Morgan had earlier, her look as sultry as the weather. I shifted my attention to the world above but could only make out some very tall clouds.
The towering rocks in the distance looked like spires and the water a huge baptismal font, but even surrounded by such beauty, I got the feeling everyone was just playing a waiting game.
Veronica came up on heavy heels to where I sat next to my tent. “This simplify-your-life bullshit isn’t for me,” she said. “My thighs hurt and I could use a hot bath.”
This would have been a good time to mention that she’d barged in on a trip that I’d set up and paid for, which hardly put her in the position to complain. Instead, I said, “I agree about the hot bath, but about the sore thighs—”
“Don’t even suggest lending me a pair of your baggy Wranglers. No way.”
“Okay, but—”
“See those clouds?” she said.
“Yeah, aren’t they beautiful?”
“Beautiful, my foot! They’re cumulonimbus clouds, common in the summer, not the spring. And even then I’ve never seen them around here before.”
“Bad?”
“They’re also called thunderheads. Does that give you a clue?”
“Not good.”
“Not good,” Veronica agreed.