Read Online Northern Exposure by Debra Lee Brown - Free Book Online

almost as if she were talking to herself, she said, “You don’t know the half of it.”
    Â 
    Wendy argued with him as she wolfed down a Power Bar.
    The battle escalated between gulps of water she felt obliged to share with him, since, in his haste to catch her, he’d forgotten his own bottle. It peaked during the risky process of shimmying into her waterproof anorak without pitching headlong into the valley below. But it was no use. Joe Peterson was as immovable as the mountain they were roosted on.
    â€œOkay, fine. Let’s go, then.”
    He stood and offered her a hand. “I’ll help you.”
    She would have rather burned in hell.
    â€œI’m fine,” she managed through gritted teeth, as she struggled to her feet, her heavy pack throwing her dangerously off balance and making her feel like a pregnant turtle in a bright-blue shell.
    Joe gripped her upper arm to steady her, and before she knew what she was doing she’d grabbed on to him for support. Their gazes locked, and for the barest second she thought of him sitting, bare-chested in the Adirondack chair in his bedroom, staring at the photo of his dead sister.
    â€œThanks,” she said quietly.
    â€œNo problem.” He let go of her, then motioned her out onto the ledgelike trail leading down into the wildlife reserve.
    There was loose rock everywhere; the footing was precarious, at best. “Is this trail used often?” Wendy had done a lot of backpacking when she was a kid, but mostly in Michigan over flat terrain that was nothing like this.
    â€œBy animals, mostly. It’s really just a game trail. Not too many people come in this way.”
    â€œI can see why.” She tried not to look down as she placed one foot carefully in front of the other and made her way down the steep route.
    Two switchbacks later it dawned on her. “My compass!” She stopped short, and Joe nearly ran into her.
    â€œWhoa! What about it?”
    â€œI left it on top, on the pass. I took it off for a minute to—”
    â€œWe’ll snag it on the way back. It’ll still be there.”
    Taking care with her footing, she turned toward him. “You don’t understand. My dad gave me that compass. It’s the one thing that wasn’t stolen along with the rest of my stuff. I had it in my camera bag. It’s important to me. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to it.”
    Joe swore, then glanced at the sky, which looked as if it was about to explode. “We’re almost out of daylight, and I don’t like the looks of those clouds. Stay here.”
    Wendy grabbed his arm. “No, I’ll go.” It was her compass, and she was the one who’d left it behind.
    â€œNo, I’ll go. Like I said, stay here.”
    Before she could argue, he turned and started back up the trail. “Tyrant,” she said to his back, knowing he couldn’t hear her.
    A moment later, a spray of small rocks rained down from the jagged ridge line above, peppering the space Joe had just occupied. Wendy flattened herself against the rock face and protected her head with her hands. Sheesh. He wasn’t kidding about those rock slides.
    After a moment it stopped, and she cautiously looked up, expecting to see a marmot or maybe a bird, but saw neither. She also didn’t see Joe. The trail was empty, and the notch in the rocks he’d called a pass was empty, too.
    Below her everything was quiet, the wooded valley dark, the trail disappearing into shadows. There was no wind, not a breath of it, which seemed unusual to her. Checking her watch—8:00 p.m.—she realized that, if not for the storm clouds, there’d still be plenty of light.
    Joe was right. They needed to get down from the pass and find somewhere to make camp before it got dark. Which didn’t give them much time since it was nearly dark already.
    â€œJoe?” she called up the trail, straining to see in the half light.