Read Online Third-Time Lucky by Jenny Oldfield - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jenny Oldfield
Ads: Link
Come with us!” she’d begged. “This whole thing was your idea. Why not come along?”
“No way!” Lisa had made a million excuses: she didn’t like riding in trucks, Bonnie needed her in the diner, she had ten thousand and one more interesting things planned.
“So what’s the real reason?” Kirstie had pressed her for an answer she could believe.
“This is your trip,” Lisa had replied. “Yours and Matt’s and Lucky’s.”
And she’d stuck to that, even now, when her face was wistful, her hair blown about by the breeze that had got up since breakfast. She came down from the porch as Matt eased the truck into gear.
“Map?” she asked.
Kirstie held it up for her to see.
“Address?”
“Zak Stone, Somewhere on Rainbow Mountain, Wentworth County, Montana!” She recited with a grin what little they knew.
Lisa nodded and smiled. “So, give me a call.”
Kirstie’s turn to nod and wave.
“Safe journey!” Sandy called.
Lisa held two hands in the air, a double wave. “Good luck!”
The truck rolled out of the yard up the drive. It rattled across the cattle guard and lurched around the first stiff bend. That was it; Half Moon Ranch was out of sight. Lucky, Matt, and Kirstie were on the road.
7
They drove north on the Interstate around Denver, then took a highway that led west through the Rocky Mountain National Park. Trail Ridge Road took them to a height of 12,000 feet into a world of ice and snow. Glaciers glinted on Flatiron Mountain and Nakai Peak. The narrow road switchbacked through steep valleys across the roof of America.
“You see those peaks ahead?” Matt pointed into the distance. It was late afternoon, four hours into the two-day journey. “I reckon they’re the Never Summer Mountains.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah. The Never Summer Mountains. How’s it sound to you?”
“Great!” Though the cab was warm, Kirstie shivered. She leaned forward to turn up the volume on the radio. A guitar sobbed Western-style notes, while a country singer gave them the tearful story of a woman he had loved and lost. “Where do we plan to spend the night? Don’t tell me: Frozen Fingers Ridge, Dead Man’s Wilderness, Eaten-By-Bears Lodge!”
Matt grinned and took a hairpin bend. “I take it you’re not grabbed by the amazing alpine landscape, Ms. Scott?”
“Jeez, Matt slow down!” Kirstie twisted sideways, then straightened up. “We’ve got a sick horse in the back, remember.”
“How could I forget?” The reminder sobered him up anyway. “Listen, we’ll be out of this snow pretty soon and heading for the Arapaho National Forest. We’ll stay overnight in Kawuneeche Valley, get an early start tomorrow, and be across the Great Divide by midday.”
As she listened to the plan, with the country singer wailing in the background, Kirstie noticed soft white flecks whirl out of a darkening sky and land on the windshield. Soon, the road ahead was covered with a fine dusting of snow. “Oh, great!” she moaned again. “A blizzard in June—that’s all we need!”
Ignoring her, Matt trucked on. The wipers whooshed and squeaked, keeping the screen clear; the engine whined and struggled with the gradients. Thirty minutes later they would be through the worst of the weather, he promised.
“I could’ve loved you better,” the country and western star wailed. “Didn’t mean to be unkind. You know that was the last thing on my mind!”
Kawuneeche Valley was green. Yellow, pink, and blue flowers spread across the hillsides like a huge, soft carpet, as far as the gray granite rocks. Beyond them were more mountains, more rugged and bigger still than the ones Kirstie and Matt had driven though on this, their first day on the road.
Matt pulled up in a small campground run by a forest ranger named Bill Englemann. The ranger, an elderly man with a paunch and a fine head of pure white hair, showed them where to build a wood fire for cooking. “Ain’t nothing fancy here,” he
“No way!” Lisa had made a million excuses: she didn’t like riding in trucks, Bonnie needed her in the diner, she had ten thousand and one more interesting things planned.
“So what’s the real reason?” Kirstie had pressed her for an answer she could believe.
“This is your trip,” Lisa had replied. “Yours and Matt’s and Lucky’s.”
And she’d stuck to that, even now, when her face was wistful, her hair blown about by the breeze that had got up since breakfast. She came down from the porch as Matt eased the truck into gear.
“Map?” she asked.
Kirstie held it up for her to see.
“Address?”
“Zak Stone, Somewhere on Rainbow Mountain, Wentworth County, Montana!” She recited with a grin what little they knew.
Lisa nodded and smiled. “So, give me a call.”
Kirstie’s turn to nod and wave.
“Safe journey!” Sandy called.
Lisa held two hands in the air, a double wave. “Good luck!”
The truck rolled out of the yard up the drive. It rattled across the cattle guard and lurched around the first stiff bend. That was it; Half Moon Ranch was out of sight. Lucky, Matt, and Kirstie were on the road.
7
They drove north on the Interstate around Denver, then took a highway that led west through the Rocky Mountain National Park. Trail Ridge Road took them to a height of 12,000 feet into a world of ice and snow. Glaciers glinted on Flatiron Mountain and Nakai Peak. The narrow road switchbacked through steep valleys across the roof of America.
“You see those peaks ahead?” Matt pointed into the distance. It was late afternoon, four hours into the two-day journey. “I reckon they’re the Never Summer Mountains.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah. The Never Summer Mountains. How’s it sound to you?”
“Great!” Though the cab was warm, Kirstie shivered. She leaned forward to turn up the volume on the radio. A guitar sobbed Western-style notes, while a country singer gave them the tearful story of a woman he had loved and lost. “Where do we plan to spend the night? Don’t tell me: Frozen Fingers Ridge, Dead Man’s Wilderness, Eaten-By-Bears Lodge!”
Matt grinned and took a hairpin bend. “I take it you’re not grabbed by the amazing alpine landscape, Ms. Scott?”
“Jeez, Matt slow down!” Kirstie twisted sideways, then straightened up. “We’ve got a sick horse in the back, remember.”
“How could I forget?” The reminder sobered him up anyway. “Listen, we’ll be out of this snow pretty soon and heading for the Arapaho National Forest. We’ll stay overnight in Kawuneeche Valley, get an early start tomorrow, and be across the Great Divide by midday.”
As she listened to the plan, with the country singer wailing in the background, Kirstie noticed soft white flecks whirl out of a darkening sky and land on the windshield. Soon, the road ahead was covered with a fine dusting of snow. “Oh, great!” she moaned again. “A blizzard in June—that’s all we need!”
Ignoring her, Matt trucked on. The wipers whooshed and squeaked, keeping the screen clear; the engine whined and struggled with the gradients. Thirty minutes later they would be through the worst of the weather, he promised.
“I could’ve loved you better,” the country and western star wailed. “Didn’t mean to be unkind. You know that was the last thing on my mind!”
Kawuneeche Valley was green. Yellow, pink, and blue flowers spread across the hillsides like a huge, soft carpet, as far as the gray granite rocks. Beyond them were more mountains, more rugged and bigger still than the ones Kirstie and Matt had driven though on this, their first day on the road.
Matt pulled up in a small campground run by a forest ranger named Bill Englemann. The ranger, an elderly man with a paunch and a fine head of pure white hair, showed them where to build a wood fire for cooking. “Ain’t nothing fancy here,” he
Similar Books
