Chapter 5
Getting to Summer’s End Resort involves a drive through North Central Washington State on the main road to Canada.
The highway goes through Omak, Okanogan, and Tonasket until it arrives at the Canadian border.
Straight ahead are the Canadian Rockies.
To the east is the Columbia River meandering down from Canada through the Grand Coulee Dam.
To the west is Summer Lake and the federally designated Pasayten Wilderness Area made up of the Washington North Cascade Mountain Range.
Heading west on Summer Lake Road between Omak and Tonasket involves a scenic drive through ranches and farms nestled into valleys of the Cascade Mountains.
Summer Lake Road winds around the shores of Summer Lake until it concludes at Summer’s End Resort, the US Forest Service campground, and the main trailhead into the Pasayten Wilderness.
An adventurous hiker could leave Summer’s End and walk through the wilderness area across the border into the Canadian Rockies.
Three years ago, Molly became the fourth generation McGuire owner of the resort.
Monday morning, Molly started her day just as she started nearly every day at Summer’s End, with a short visit to each of her managers.
She strolled through the businesses, stopping to chat.
It was their time, not hers, to talk about the issues of the day.
She asked a few questions, but mostly listened.
Her first stop was usually the stables to check on her horse.
Molly and Jo had competed on the rodeo circuit for years, and Molly knew Jo’s days were numbered.
Molly and Shadow had been together for two years, but Jo went back seventeen years through Molly’s years of competitive riding.
They didn’t usually ride in the morning, but Molly checked to make sure she had food and water.
On this morning, she was brushing her down and bringing Jo up on recent events.
“Hey, girl. Guess what? Shadow and I both got laid this weekend. Sorry I couldn’t set something up for you. We had quite the excitement. A mysterious mountain man showed up at my door with his gorgeous German Shepard. Shadow had busy a weekend, didn’t you, girl.”
Shadow barked on cue when asked the playful question.
“We’re hoping they come back in a month. When they do, we’ll bring them down for introductions.”
Molly mindlessly chatted to her beloved partner as she brushed her down, added feed and water, and rubbed Jo’s neck and ears.
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear any of that.” A familiar voice interrupted Molly’s chatter.
“SILAS!”
“Good morning, Molly.”
Molly was embarrassed. She hadn’t heard Silas tending to Outlaw, his horse in the next stall. Silas was her stables manager, a lifelong cowboy, former rodeo rider, good friend, and regular riding partner.
Molly talked over the dividing wall. “Silas, I was only kidding. I’m just trying to bring a little excitement to Jo this morning.”
The grizzled old timer sauntered over to her stall in his cowboy hat, jeans, western shirt, buckle belt, and boots.
Molly had never seen him in anything else.
He knelt down to give Shadow some love. “I thought Bart had a little extra spring in his step this morning. Bear certainly did. They left about a half hour ago. He packed his gear yesterday and I helped him load Beryl this morning.”
“You know Bart?”
“Sure. Good customer. He winters Beryl here when the snow flies. And we take care of her when he’s down to provision.”
“Shadow and Bear got acquainted this weekend.”
“Hope it takes. That’s a good pairing.”
“Yeah, Shadow agrees with you on that, don’t you, girl?”
Shadow barked on cue.
“Bart knows his animals.”
“How so?”
“Well, Bear for starters. That’s as fine a German Shepherd as you’ll ever see. No offense Shadow. And he knows horses. He pitches a tent in the campground but spends more time over here admiring whatever is around. He’s been around horses all his life. Have you seen his mule?”
Molly chuckled. “Just from a distance.”
“No ordinary mule. Beryl is a beautiful jenny, and he takes good care of her. We like having her in the winter. The jenny is strong and a good climber. I’m sure that’s why he has her.”
“Where does he live?” Molly asked innocently, giving Jo a vigorous brush across the hindquarter.
Silas chuckled. “Good luck with that. He’s off the grid somewhere.”
“How long has he been wintering Beryl here?”
“Maybe five years. We didn’t keep those kinds of records until you made us use those fancy computers.”
Molly ignored the friendly barb.
“How’s everything else?”
“Good. The outfitters are getting ready for the season. We’ve got five trips on the books in May. I got a good buy on hay over the weekend. Been waiting for a decent price.” He paused and lowered his voice, “Not sure how much longer Jo’s got.”
“I know.” Molly gave Jo a good scratch around the ears. “You tell me when you think it’s time.”
“You know I will.”
“Then, you can check me into therapy for a week. I’ll be a mess.”
“Hard losing your best friend.”
Molly dreaded that day, but knew it was coming.
Molly and Shadow walked down the dirt road to the heart of the resort where the restaurant and general store were located next to the lake with a shared parking lot.
Shadow sat outside as Molly walked into Mack’s Diner.
On a Monday morning in the spring, the restaurant was more than half full, part guests eating breakfast, part locals there for cinnamon rolls and coffee.
It was the local gathering place. Molly walked slowly through the dining room, stopping to talk with friends and customers, as she worked her way back to check in with her manager.
Evelyn had managed the diner for over twenty years and oversaw operations like a mother hen, greeting every customer, working the floor, gathering and dispensing Summer Lake gossip.
She lived in a log home on the lake built by her husband, Reggie, a local logger.
She ran a tight ship, and Molly gave her a free hand.
A large, silver-haired, tireless worker, she hired and fired staff, decided on menus, ordered supplies, and supervised the dining room and kitchen.
“Morning, boss.”
“Hi Evelyn. Everything okay?”
“Yeah, had a good weekend. With the weather picking up, I’m expecting even more in the next couple weeks.” She paused. “Heard you had a nice weekend.”
“Evelyn, really?”
“Lot of fishermen keeping an eye on your place, you know, for your own well-being. And some of them are bird watchers with binoculars.”
“That’s why I don’t skinny dip at the cabin.”
“It’s possible someone saw you sitting around a fire last night with a cowboy and someone else might have seen you this morning having coffee with him.”
Molly chuckled. She didn’t care. She was a single woman with a history of moving cowboy to cowboy. No secrets there. This was just another reminder she lived in a fishbowl with a lot of nosy neighbors.
“No worries, Evelyn, that wasn’t a real person.”
“No?
“No, it was just a battery operated inflatable cowboy doll I picked up to give people something to talk about.”
“Congratulations, it worked.” Evelyn chuckled. “I’ll spread the word you have an inflatable cowboy doll.”
“Gee, thanks, Evelyn.”
“Rumor is that it was that mysterious mountain man who passes through with the mule and German Shepard.”
“Don’t believe everything you hear.”
“He comes in here, you know?”
Molly was surprised, but she knew she didn’t need to ask about that. Evelyn didn’t have it in her to not share whatever she had.
“Yeah, he comes in alone, sits in the back corner, drinks Scotch, has a rare rib-eye, a baked potato with the works, and reads one of those electric books.”
“He has a tablet?”
“Yeah, the kind that’s the size of a book but with a lighted screen.”
Molly shook her head like that was the strangest thing she’d ever heard: a mountain man with a Kindle. Really?
Molly and Shadow walked next door to the Summer Lake General Store.
Originally a tackle shop for fishermen, Molly’s dad had doubled its size and converted it to a general purpose country store that served the local population with beer and groceries.
Shadow waited on the porch as Molly went in to check with Betsy, her store manager.
She braced herself as she walked in the door.
Betsy and Evelyn were tight and would have thoroughly vetted all available information about Molly’s sex-fueled weekend.
Betsy grew up at the resort. Her father had been the right hand man for Molly’s grandfather, managing the tackle shop and fishing boats.
Betsy had been the tomboy running all over the place.
The same age, Molly and Betsy hung out together as kids when Molly was visiting her grandparents.
The outdoor girls grew up fishing, hiking, and riding horses at Summer Lake.
After high school, they went separate ways, Molly to college and the rodeo circuit.
Betsy stayed at the resort working for her father and eventually taking over the store and fishing operations when her dad retired.
Although not close friends, Molly and Betsy shared a lifelong friendship and still occasionally rode and fished together.
A world class fisherwoman, Betsy liked lake fishing but lived to fly fish the local rivers.
Having fished them all her life, she was the premier local resource on where the fish were biting.
As a hobby, she made and sold custom flies and could talk fish all day with the best of them.
“Hey Moll.”
Molly recognized the sing song in her voice. She’d obviously been talking with Evelyn.
“Morning, Bets. How’s business?”
“Good. April is up five percent over last year, so that’s good. The nice weather is good for beer.” Beer was the store’s money maker.
She paused and gave Molly a knowing grin, and said in a sing song voice, “Heard you had a nice weekend.”