Chapter 3 Julia #2
We scrambled up on top of a boulder to get the best view of the surrounding land.
Eagle Nest Trail led to the highest point in the county, giving us a bird’s-eye view of the Colorado landscape.
Parts of the terrain were rocky, others forest-covered.
At a distance, we could see the rich pastures of grazing land that made this part of the state ideal for raising cattle and horses.
It was one of my favorite views. As soon as I finished veterinary school and returned home, I’d hiked the trail to see it.
“I used to come up here with my dad,” I said. “It was our way of spending time together, doing something we both loved.”
“What about your mom?” Jake pushed his hat back on his head.
“She’s a city girl at heart. She tolerated living on the ranch because she and Dad were so in love, but after he died, she had no interest in being so far from what she calls civilization.” From the time I was a little girl, I had known that I was more like my dad than my mom.
“How does she define that?” he asked.
“Access to the arts and shopping. Sidewalks, a Starbuck’s on every corner. That sort of stuff. I like to visit her, have a mocha, shop for clothes that I’m unlikely to ever wear, but my heart’s out here, same as my dad’s was. Hiking here always makes me think of him.”
“That’s true for me, too, with my dad,” Jake said, surprising me. “It was usually all three of us boys with him, but twice I can remember coming here, just him and me. He tried to do that, spend time with us individually.”
“That seems wise of him,” I said, wondering what it would have been like to share my parents’ attention.
Having a sibling looked both challenging and rewarding.
Jake and Brian were close. So was my friend Sofia with her older brother, Rafael.
I was a little jealous of that. They always knew someone had their backs.
Since I was little, I’d had good friends—both human and animal—who filled that role for me, too, but it wasn’t quite the same.
“He was wise. More than I realized while he was alive.” Jake was turned in the opposite direction from me, but he suddenly reached out and touched my arm. “Look to the east.”
I spun around to see the angry roil of black clouds that could form so quickly this time of year. We both knew the storm would come on fast. “We better head back,” I said automatically, even as I frowned, calculating how long that would take us.
“We won’t make it,” he said, apparently finishing his own calculations.
“Probably not, but at least we’ll be down from the highest point.
” I sat on my butt and scooted off the high boulder.
He jumped to the ground, a grin on his face, and held his hand out to help me the rest of the way down.
I shook my head, but I was glad to see his relaxed, teasing expression.
We’d shared something poignant about our fathers standing up on that rock, and it felt like an unexpected bond had formed.
We hustled down the trail, slipping on loose stones. The rain and wind hit hard before we’d gone two miles. We were pelted with huge drops and lightning was putting on a show I might have enjoyed from inside my house. Out here, where I was a potential target, not so much.
“Careful here,” I heard Jake shout over the storm. The next section of trail was narrow as it worked along a cliff face. The ground, hard-packed from the baking sun, wasn’t allowing the water to seep in, so it was running off in muddy rivulets, making the trail dangerously slippery underfoot.
Jake was just ahead of me, so I saw the second it happened.
He started to slide, arms flailing, seeking purchase, but there was nothing for him to grab hold of—just the rocky cliff face or the open air of a forty-foot drop.
Instinct driving me, I grabbed for his arm and yanked him back hard against me.
We both fell backward but stayed on the narrow trail ledge.
“Whoa, that was close,” he said. He’d fallen partially on me, and we were both panting with exertion and adrenaline. “We can’t stay out in this.” He scrambled to his feet and reached for my hand, pulling me up. “There’s a cabin not far from here, belongs to Doc Murphy. Let’s head there.”
I didn’t argue. If anything, I was relieved to have somewhere to go, since the wind was increasing by the minute. “How far?”
“Ten minutes.” He took the lead again, moving more cautiously now until the trail widened. He took a cut off the main trail, and we slid down a muddy slope and came to a small cabin. I reached the door first and tried the handle.
“Locked. We can’t go in.” I knew Doc Murphy—he’d been our family doctor when I was growing up. There was no way I wanted to bust down his door.
“We can’t stay out here,” he shouted back over the roar of the wind.
I shook my head, not one to bend the rules to that extent, regardless of the weather. Anyway, we already got some benefit just from being next to the building, blocking off the pounding rain from one side. We could shelter on the tiny porch until the worst of it passed.
“Going in,” Jake said and lifted a frog statue on the porch to reveal a key. He shoved it in the lock, and we stumbled into the cabin, drenched and dripping, but safe from the storm.
“You knew the key was there all along,” I accused him.
“Yeah,” he grinned. Soaked from head to toe and covered with mud from his fall, he should have looked ridiculous. But that grin was as electric as the lightning bolts outside. And just as dangerous to women, I decided. “But I liked watching you face a moral dilemma.”
“Jake Thorne, you’re a dog.”
“You like dogs,” he said. “I even heard a rumor that you stole a dog once. That true?”
“I won’t confirm or deny that statement.” I preferred to think that I’d rescued Fay from an abusive owner, but the truth was I’d taken her and hidden her away until they stopped searching. Maybe I wasn’t such a rule follower after all.