Tread Softly Page 11

  "No trouble," he told her.

  "I'll carry it," Benny said. His voice was a little whiny. "It's all my fault."

  "Hey, those things happen," Dad consoled him. "Don't blame yourself.''

  Benny looked around as if searching for a hole to crawl into. Finding none, he let out a deep sigh. "I'm sorry, everybody."

  "No sweat," Scott told him.

  "Sure," Julie said. "It'll be fun carrying a little extra weight."

  Scott scowled at her.

  "I knew we shouldn't have let them go off last night," Mom said. "Nobody listens to me. Next time — "

  "Let's get this show on the road," Dad interrupted. "We've got a mountain to climb."

  Shouldering their packs, they started up the trail again. The trees thinned out, leaving fewer patches of shade, then no shade at all.

  Nick and Julie, in the lead, paused often to wait for the others to catch up. Finally, near noon, they stopped at one of the flat areas where the trail turned back on itself in its zigzag up the mountainside. They shed their packs and sat on a boulder. Scott and Karen were a distance down the trail, slowly trudging closer.

  "Who ever said backpacking's fun?" Julie asked.

  "Not me."

  "Shit." She lifted the front of her T-shirt and rubbed her sweaty face. Nick glanced at her bare midriff. She pulled the shirt down again. It clung to her. "Feel like I'm gonna die."

  "At least there's a little breeze."

  "How'd you like to dive in a swimming pool about now?"

  "I'd dive into anything that's cold," Nick said.

  "You and me both. Man, this is the pits. How'd we get into this? We could be home right now, having iced tea by the swimming pool."

  "A hamburger and chocolate shake at Burger King."

  "On the other hand ..."

  "What?"

  "Well." Julie looked at him, and shrugged. "If we weren't up here in this godforsaken armpit of a wilderness, we wouldn't ... I wouldn't have got to know you. I mean, I'm glad about that anyway.

  The words made Nick's heart pound fast. "Maybe when we get back, we could — I don't know — go to the movies or something."

  She met his eyes. She smiled slightly. "By then, you'll be sick of me."

  "Maybe," he said.

  Julie laughed.

  "I doubt it, though."

  Karen called, "Where's the top?"

  "Up there someplace," Julie answered.

  "That's the rumor," Nick added.

  "You guys are really burning up the trail," Scott said.

  Julie nodded. "Regular roadrunners."

  Scott and Karen took off their packs. Scott looked as if the strenuous hike had barely fazed him. He wasn't even breathing hard. Karen looked just as good. She fluttered the front of her plaid shirt, then opened the three lower buttons. She gathered up the shirttails and made a knot just below her breasts. "Nice breeze," she said. She lay down against her pack, and fanned her face with her floppy hat.

  "We thought," Julie said, "that this'd be as good a place as any to have lunch."

  "Sounds good," Scott said.

  After a lunch of gorp, dehydrated fruit slices, shortbread cookies, and Tropical Chocolate bars, they resumed the hike. At first, the weight of his pack felt unbearable to Nick. His shoulders and back throbbed with pain, and his legs seemed barely capable of supporting him. He felt like collapsing, but forced himself to take one step after another. Slowly, the torment faded, as if his body were giving up its rebellion, accepting its role as a beast of burden.

  He walked behind Julie and matched his stride to hers. Her boots were powdered with trail dust. One sock was slightly lower than the other. The seat of her white shorts had two half-moons of yellow-brown dirt from sitting down, and he could see the outline of her panties through the thin fabric. The panties were very brief. Like a bikini bottom. "Did you bring a bathing suit?" he asked.

  "Sure. You?"

  "Yeah."

  "Water's so cold, though. We'd freeze our butts." "Those girls swam."

  "Must be polar bears."

  "Probably not bad, once you're in it."

  "Depends. Some lakes aren't so bad."

  "Warmer if they're shallow," Nick said.

  "Depends on the runoff, too."

  "Way I feel, I'd swim in ice cubes."

  "We get to Wilson in time, I'd give it a try."

  They trudged along in silence. Looking up the slope, Nick could see where the mountainside ended. It didn't seem far above them, but he realized that the view might be deceiving. The area that appeared to be the top from here might turn out to be a shelf, the rest of the mountain farther back and out of sight. He tried not to let his hopes get too high.

  He and Julie were still a distance below the apparent top, however, when the trail, instead of switching back, continued forward and curved around the slope. A strong, cool wind blew against Nick. Julie stopped. He moved up beside her. She smiled at him. "What do you know," she said.

  "Didn't think we'd ever make it."

  Ahead of them, the trail wound over a flat, barren area between two bluffs. Then it dropped out of sight. In the distance, Nick saw peaks shrouded by clouds. A few minutes of hiking took them across the level area. They shed their packs and sat on a block of granite. From there, the trail started gradually downward along a narrow ridge. To the right of the ridge was a deep ravine. To the left was a shallow valley with two lakes. The lower lake, no more than a hundred feet below their perch, was larger than the other, bounded by rocky slopes except for a small stand of pine at its western shore. The upper lake, just above its southwest end, looked treeless and even more desolate.

  "Must be the Mesquites," Nick said.

  "The ranger was right. They're the pits."

  "I don't see anyone down there."

  "The Madwoman of the Mesquites?" Julie asked.

  "She's probably moved on. I mean, who'd want to camp there? Looks like the backside of the moon."

  "I hope Lake Wilson's better than these."

  "The ranger said it was nice. Besides, it's about a thousand feet lower."

  "What is it, three or four miles?"

  "Something like that."

  Nick followed the trail with his eyes. It passed above Lower Mesquite, and vanished behind a steep wall of granite. "At least it'll be downhill," he said.

  "Sometimes that's worse."

  "Yeah. Gets you in the toes."

  "And everywhere else."

  Scott and Karen arrived. They took off their packs, and settled down on a nearby boulder. Karen lifted her blouse again and tied it in front as she'd done when they stopped for lunch. "Ah," she said, "that wind's terrific."

  "I don't like the looks of those clouds," Scott said.

  The clouds hugging the distant peaks were thick and gray. Nick figured that they must be at least ten miles away.

  "I don't think I'd mind a little rain," Karen said.

  "It'd put a damper on dinner."

  "Maybe it'll miss us," Julie said.

  Scott shook his head. "Looks like they're coming our way. These mountain storms are unpredictable, though. Could pass over us without leaving a drop. Or we might be in for it. Only time will tell."

  "Time wounds all heals," Karen said.

  "Time's like hiking, then," Scott added.

  "Like Benny," Julie said. "He's the greatest heel wounder of all time."

  Scott looked pained. "Why don't you ease up on that? Benny feels bad enough without your help."

  "He's not here."

  Scott ignored the remark and stared out over the valley. Karen leaned back against her pack. She folded her hands on top of her head, mashing the soft crown of her hat. "I wonder," she said, "if Heather can make it as far as Wilson."

  Chapter Sixteen__________

  Ettie watched with despair through a crevice in the rocks. Luck had sure turned against them. Maybe the Master was dishing out punishment, paying them back for what Merle did to those other two campers — claiming he offe
red them down when he did no such thing, but just went at them for his own need and then laid it on the Master.

  Then again, maybe Ettie wasn't judging the matter right. Could be a test. Maybe even an offering. She'd have to find out for sure, so she'd know what to do.

  One thing was sure: the campers were fixing to stay. They were down in the clearing by the trees, setting up four tents, a kid in glasses rounding up rocks to build a fireplace.

  Ettie eased away from the crevice and made her way across the slope to the cave entrance. Turning sideways, she squeezed through the opening. The murky light inside seemed very dark after the brightness, but she saw the dim shape of Merle sprawled out on one of the sleeping bags. She sat down on the other bag. Sunlight from the fissure overhead made a hot band along her crossed legs. She leaned back slightly against the cool granite wall.

  "You awake, Merle?"

  "Just laying here. I sure like this sleeping bag. It's the softest thing."

  "We've got some folks down by the lake."

  He sat up so fast that it startled Ettie.

  "Just stay put," she warned.

  He was almost to his feet, but he dropped down again as if his legs had gone soft. "Can't I see 'em, Ettie?"

  "Just sit still."

  "Who are they?" he asked.

  "How'd I know that?"

  "They snooping?"

  "They're putting up a camp. One's soaking her foot in the lake. She came limping in pretty bad. I guess she hurt herself in the pass. I figure that's maybe why they stopped."

  "A girl?"

  "Don't get your heat up. They got three men along."

  "Can't I just look?"

  "I'll tell you when you can look. We're gonna stay put till I've got it figured out."

  "Well, how many are there?"

  "Nine."

  "Nine, and just three of 'em men?"

  "There's some kids, don't look older than twelve. And three women."

  "How old are they?"

  "Never you mind."

  "Are they pretty?"

  "Fetch me the coyote skin."

  Obediently, Merle crawled past the head of her sleeping bag. He rummaged through a dark pile at the far end of the chamber and came back with the pelt of a coyote he had snared two weeks before. "What're you fixing to do?" he asked.

  "Read the signs. Maybe these folks come here by chance, or maybe the Master sent them."

  "Think He wants 'em offered down?"

  "I don't know what to make of it. Could be we're out of favor and He sent them to punish us."

  "Why'd He do that, Ettie?"

  "Not saying He did. I'm saying He might've. Now you just shush, and let me find out."

  She got to her knees and spread the coyote pelt on the sleeping bag. Then she unsheathed her knife. "O great Master," she intoned, "Shadow of the Dark, give us a sign that we, Your servants, may know Your will." With the knife, she carved a crescent on her left forearm. Blood spilled out, pattering on the coyote skin. "Give us wisdom, Master, that we may abide by Your way." She slowly waved her cut arm back and forth over the skin, then held it steady while she sheathed her knife. "Count backward from thirteen," she told Merle. Together, they counted down. When they reached one, she swung in her arm and tied a kerchief around the wound.

  She stared down at the hide. The band of sunlight made a bright path across it, showing streaks and pools of blood on the pale skin. Except for the sunlit area, the rest was in deep shadow.

  "What'd He say?" Merle asked.

  "Get me matches."

  He dug a book of matches out of his jeans and gave it to Ettie. She plucked a match free, struck it, and bent low over the hide. By the light of the wavering flame, she studied the pattern of her spilled blood: its trails of shiny droplets, its loops, the way its shiny threads connected larger blotches, the shapes of the small puddles. A cold, sick feeling spread through her as the meaning became clear. She moaned.

  "What's wrong?"

  "Shh." She shook out the match, lit another, and once again studied the map of blood. No, she hadn't been mistaken. She dropped the match. A spatter of blood killed its flame in a hiss.

  "Is it bad, Ettie?"

  She stared at her son. He was on his knees, looking down at the pelt. His face was a dim blur in the shadows. Reaching out, she patted his cheek. "Nothing's gonna come of it, honey. It's nothing to fret over. We're just gonna stay hidden here till they go away."

  As Merle reached for the pelt, Ettie swept a hand across it, smearing the blood.

  "Shit!" he cried.

  "It's not for your eyes."

  "Wouldn't of hurt nothing," he said in a pouty voice.

  Ettie folded the pelt over. She pressed down on the fur with both hands, and rubbed it hard.

  " 'Least you can do is tell me what it said," Merle complained. "Must've said more than just stay in the cave."

  "It didn't say to stay in the cave, I did."

  "Well, what'd the blood say?"

  "Said we better not mess with the folks down there. They brought death."

  Merle was silent. He stared down at the pelt for a while, then picked it up and peeled it open and moved it through the path of sunlight, squinting at the red smears. "Is that what it really said?" he asked, sounding doubtful.

  "You calling me a liar, son?"

  "Well, no. But maybe you didn't read it right."

  "I read it right. Now, you got any notions about the women down there, put them out of your head, or you'll get us both killed. Do you understand?"

  "I guess."

  "That's not much of an answer, Merle." She crawled along her sleeping bag to the dimly lit gap of the cave's entrance. There, she sat down and crossed her legs, blocking the only way out.

  "You don't gotta do that," Merle whined.

  "I'll do it, just the same."

  Chapter Seventeen__________

  With a sooty rock in each hand, Julie stepped over to the fireplace. "Here's a couple more for you," she told Benny, and dropped them to the ground beside him.

  "Thanks," he muttered. He didn't look up. He lifted one of the rocks and added it to the low, circular wall he was building.

  "Don't look so pitiful," Julie said.

  "It's all my fault."

  "That's right, Bonzo. Look on the bright side. At least you didn't break her foot."

  "Thanks. You're real nice."

  "Ain't I, though?" Trying to brush the black from her hands, she walked toward the lakeshore. Nick was there, sitting on a rock beside his sister while she soaked her left foot. "How's it going?" Julie asked.

  "Fine," Heather said.

  "Haven't seen any water snakes," Nick said.

  "Well, that's a relief. Any crazy old women?"

  "Not a one."

  "Terrific." She stepped out onto a low flat rock, squatted down, and washed her hands. The water felt cold, but not numbing. "Still interested in a swim?" she asked.

  "Sure."

  "Can I swim, too?" Heather asked.

  "Better check with Mom."

  Julie shook the water from her hands and leaped ashore.

  "See you in a couple of minutes," she called over her shoulder.

  Benny, still crouched by the fireplace, raised his head as Julie approached. His nose was wrinkled, upper teeth bared, like a snarling dog. Just his way to keep his glasses from slipping off. He shoved them up with a forefinger and stopped snarling.

  "We're going for a swim," Julie said. "Wanta come?"

  His head tilted sideways. He looked confounded. "Are you going in?"

  "That's the picture."

  "What about the water moccasins?"

  "If you're scared, stay here." In front of the tent, she dug into her backpack and dragged out her towel. It was still slightly damp from that morning's washing up. She hung it over a shoulder, and continued to search until she found her bikini at the very bottom.

  Dropping to her knees, she crawled inside the tent. The tent had only been up for a few minutes, but al
ready the trapped air felt stifling. Karen's sleeping bag was laid out. It looked thick and soft. Had it belonged to anyone but Karen, Julie would've sat on it while she changed. Instead, she sat on the tent floor, the ground hard under her as she stripped off her clothes.

  She was on her back, naked, legs in the air, pulling the small white bottom of her bathing suit over her feet when the tent flap opened. Sunlight spilled onto her.

  "Sorry," Karen blurted. The flap dropped, shutting out the light.

  Julie muttered, "Shit." Raising her rump, she pulled the pants into place. She sat up. Her heart was thudding. With shaky fingers, she knotted the strings of the top behind her neck, stretched the flimsy fabric of the triangles down over her breasts, and reached behind her to tie the back. "Okay," she called. "You can come in."

  Karen ducked inside. She had a one-piece black swim-suit in her hand. "Sorry about that," she said. "I didn't realize you were in here."

  "You could've asked," Julie muttered, still fumbling with the strings at her back.

  Karen sat down on the bag, and started to unlace her boots. "Hot in here," she said.

  "You going in the lake?"

  "Yeah. Benny and your dad are getting into their trunks." She tugged her boots off, and sighed with pleasure. "That water's gonna feel awfully good."

  Julie got the strings tied, but didn't move. She watched the woman peel off a sock and inspect her foot in the murky blue light. "Well, no blisters on this one. How're your feet holding out?"

  "That's my business," she said.

  Karen stared at her. In the gloomy light, Julie couldn't tell whether she looked angry or just hurt. "Sorry," Karen finally said. "I was just trying to be friendly."

  "Don't bother."

  In a quiet voice, she asked, "What are you afraid of?"

  "I'm not afraid of you, that's for sure."

  "You're afraid of liking me, I think."

  "What, you're so irresistibly charming I've gotta be a nut case if I'm not kissing the goddamn ground you walk on? Forget it. I just don't like you, that's all. I wish Dad had never met you."

  "Your father and I ... we love each other."

  "Ain't that just dandy," Julie said through a tightness in her throat.

  "You knew that, didn't you?"

  "I'm not blind."

  "We love each other, Julie, but don't think for one instant that he loves you or Benny any less because of that. You're his daughter. He's been with you all your life, and he'll love you as long as he lives, no matter what. You'll always be part of him in a way I can never be. I'm not taking him away from you. I couldn't, even if I wanted to."