Chapter 7
Luke
Would an alpine-parsley poacher wear kitty pajamas? And admit to having bunny slippers? Chuckling all the way back to my tent, I’m amused by Kaylee’s attire choices and lack of camping experience.
As soon as my head hits the pillow after the midnight bathroom run, I fall asleep. When I wake up the next morning, I feel surprisingly refreshed, although a quick glance at my cell tells me it’s a lot later than I intended to get up. Hopefully I still have time to find the alpine-parsley plants and determine a good place to keep surveillance without causing any suspicion.
Speaking of suspicion, I doubt Kaylee is any part of the alpine-parsley gang, as Winston called them. Between the cat-adorned pajamas and her real fear of the animals roaming the darkness, I simply can’t picture her as a secret agent. But I’ll remain vigilant until I’m sure. Maybe I’m letting that kiss on the cheek go to my head .
“Hello!” a female voice I instantly recognize says from outside my tent.
I stick my head out the door to find Kaylee standing there in a puffy winter coat with two large to-go coffee cups with the Coffee Loft logo on the side clutched in her hand. Liz sits at her feet and yaps when she sees me.
“After our midnight bathroom run, I figured you could use a cup of perk-fection ,” she says with a giggle. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“Nope. I was just contemplating whether to start a fire to brew coffee. So you saved me!” I say, crawling out to stand next to her. The late morning autumn air is crisp, but the cold mountain night has definitely receded. I was surprised that Kaylee didn’t show any signs of being cold on our walk last night. I wonder why she didn’t grab that coat.
She extends one of the cups and I take it, grateful at the gesture. Nodding towards the picnic table, I sit, and my lovely companion follows suit. Liz rests her warm body against my foot. This little dog is quickly growing on me .
After a couple sips, the caffeine wakes my systems up, the warm beverage hitting the spot in the morning chill. “Thanks a latte,” I joke and Kaylee snickers at the cringe-worthy pun. If she can use all these silly coffee puns, so can I. “I’ve gotta have my morning joe in order to get started.”
“Me, too! It’s like rocket fuel in a cup.”
“How true.” I take a couple more sips, then ask, “Did you drive all the way into town to get this?”
She purses her lips as if she just sucked on a lemon. “Well, not exactly.”
“Unless you have a battery-powered espresso machine with you, this delicious brew didn’t come from a pot on a camp stove. Does the Coffee Loft deliver via drone?” I tease, holding up the cup and pointing to the label.
“I have a confession to make,” she whispers.
My heart rate ticks up a notch. Is this where she confesses to being a spy for the parsley gang? And here she’d had me convinced she was innocent. I tug in a breath and wait for the disappointment .
“Mom called to check on me. She figured I would have burned down the campground or my tent by now,” Kaylee says with a scowl.
The woman isn’t too far off the mark . I count backwards from ten, suppressing my laughter as relief floods through me. Another point for the “Kaylee isn’t a spy” column.
“She offered to deliver another pair of thermal underwear and wool socks after I complained about the overnight temperatures. Plus, I forgot my coat,” she admits with a grimace.
Ah, the thermal underwear explains why she didn’t need a coat last night. It’s wise to wear layers this time of year. But who forgets their coat?
“ When I mentioned that I was going to brew some coffee over an open flame for me and a friend, she insisted on bringing coffee as well.” Kaylee giggles, then shrugs. “Mom is so predictable.”
“She’s just making sure the campground survives the Kaylee factor,” I joke .
My coffee companion groans. “You saw me at the Coffee Loft. It’s like that every day. If I don’t spill, break, or ruin something, it’s because I took the day off,” she says while expelling a loud breath. “I’m a walking fiasco.”
Putting my arm around her shoulders, I give her a side-arm hug—the best I can do from this seated position. She feels warm and fits perfectly beside me. My heart does a happy flip.
“Look at the bright side. We’re sitting here basking in this beautiful weather, surrounded by this gorgeous view, drinking the best coffee I’ve ever tasted. That’s a win-win in my book,” I say. The stately mountains tower around us, patches of glorious late turning golden aspens dotting the ridges.
Her eyes seek mine and she blinks back tears. “Thanks, Luke. That was really kind of you to say.”
“Did I also mention that I’m sitting beside a pretty girl who wears Hello Kitty pajamas? ”
A wet giggle slips from her lips. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”
“Probably not.”
Sitting quietly with my arm still around her, we finish the coffee. I’m becoming more and more convinced that there’s no way Kaylee is part of the bad guys sneaking those rare plants from inside the national park. But I’m not quite ready to trust her and reveal why I’m here.
This is relaxing, and I could sit here all day with her, but Winston will chew me out if I don’t have anything to report by this evening. “As much as I appreciate the coffee, I need to do a few things this morning. Do you still want to meet after lunch for that hike?”
She leaps to her feet. “Yes, I still want to do that. I’m going to take that leisurely hot shower, then read a book. Stop over whenever you’re ready.”
Liz lumbers to her feet, and I give her some scratches behind the ears before she waddles off with her owner .
“Enjoy the shower!” I yell as the pair departs. Kaylee’s in for a surprise if she expects the water to be hot this time of day.
Five minutes later I’ve got my camera slung over my shoulder and a flask of water and two granola bars stuffed in my pockets as I follow the directions provided by the park rangers to the nearest and most abundant alpine-parsley bed. The plant typically grows on rocky slopes, above the tree line, at elevations between 8,000 and 12,500 feet. I’ve got some climbing to do to reach that altitude.
Wishing I were a mountain goat, I pick my way carefully along the rocky mountainside. I’m not scaling a rock face with ropes like a rock climber would do, but the terrain is very rugged and difficult to hike, and my progress is painfully slow.
Using the switchback trails, I follow the ridges back and forth, checking the altitude on my phone until I reach 8,000 feet. The wind kicks up and the conditions become brutal at this elevation. Despite it being a sunny day, it’s cold, stark, and blustery up here. Thank goodness it’s just the middle of September or there’d be snow down here instead of just dotting the higher elevations. The air is thin, and I stop after only a few steps to catch my breath. Even though I’m a fit guy, this altitude can kill if you aren’t careful. Hikers get altitude sickness all the time, so I make sure to monitor myself for any signs.
The alpine-parsley gang must be experienced mountaineers. I guess the monetary reward is worth the risk, because I doubt an everyday Joe is the one poaching these plants.
My progress becomes turtlelike as I carefully scan the area around my feet, looking for the sought-after plant. It grows along the ground with clusters of small yellow flowers. I studied lots of photos before I came, but I’m not sure I’ll recognize the plant until I’m right on top of it. This boondoggle feels like hunting for a needle in a haystack, and I wonder at my chances of catching the poachers in the act.
Resting on a boulder, I slowly sip water while I eat a granola bar. Keeping properly hydrated is paramount at these altitudes. I see two spots moving on the adjoining peak, so I use my camera’s zoom to focus on them. They appear to be a pair of hikers, and they never stop as they slowly pick their way along the peak. I observe them for several minutes, but they seem intent on scaling the mountain rather than collecting any plants. The goal for many Colorado hikers is to do a “fourteener,” which means scaling a peak that is 14,000 feet or higher. That peak in the distance might be a fourteener and all I’m watching are hikers trying to conquer it.
If the terrain around here wasn’t so spartan, I could set up some type of surveillance cameras. However, in this environment, they’d stick out like a sore thumb, plus monitoring them over the long distance would be difficult. The more I think about it, the more this feels like an impossible mission. There’s really no good place to hide, so how do I catch these guys? Unless I stumble on them, which would just be dumb luck, I don’t think there’s any way to accomplish the goal .
After over an hour of hiking, I finally find a patch of alpine-parsley. I carefully rub my finger along one of the leaves and sniff. A distinctive odor clings to my fingertips, smelling just like all the reference information indicated the alpine-parsley leaves would have. It looks undisturbed, so I take several photos, because I plan to come back every day to monitor it. Orienting myself as to the exact location, I jot down very specific landmarks in my little notebook so I can find it again, then head back down to the campground. I let out a defeated puff of air, discouraged and disillusioned that I have any chance of catching the bad guys.
At least one bright ray of hope is waiting for me at the campsite in the form of a very attractive, very clumsy barista.