The timing could not have been better. The horrors of the morning, the pounding of the rain, and the fear of being captured once more, and all the recent escapes full of fearful and desperate anticipation of what might be, led to her exhaustion as she slowly moved along the trail to another unknown destination in the Blue Ridge.
A terrible thought suddenly passed through her mind as she stumbled down the path. What if I never see him again? What if they killed him? Oh ….
A sadness overwhelmed her as she plodded along. She would make it back to the people who really cared for her. She would find Homer again. They would be friends. They could teach each other. Different as night and day perhaps, and yet circumstances had brought them to a strange kind of friendship. Her sadness began to move to a distant hope. A possibility loomed in the distance.
The sky was slowly darkening as night came upon her. She was searching for some rock, some bush, a grove of trees that might provide her protection and a place to lie down for some needed rest in reasonable safety. Warmth would be good. Seclusion and safety were primary.
Off to her right, a wooden structure could be seen. A small framed building of sorts, door-less, but with three sides. In one corner of the back wall there was a wooden rack large enough to accommodate her size. The other corner contained a bench. More than adequate. A gift. She mumbled a nearly silent thank you to no one in particular.
She huddled in the corner on the rack, pulling her knees up as close to her chest as she could get them. It was not unlike a fetal position. The dampness of her clothing made sleep difficult but not impossible. After several minutes of waiting on the warmth to arrive, her heavy eyelids closed as if by magic, and she was asleep. She did not notice that the rain began again. The crude roof protected her already damp body from the downfall. It began to slowly drip, but fortunately she was somehow protected from further exposure to the rain.
A needed rest had seduced her, and she would be dreaming in an hour or so.
Chapter 19
“I lost him,” Starnes said as I finally caught up with her and the two dogs.
“Whattaya mean?”
“He was moving so fast ahead that I simply couldn’t catch up. Before I knew it, he was completely out of sight.”
We were still walking at a fast clip. The rain had slowed appreciably, but that mattered little to me since I was already soaked.
“How about running to catch up?” I said.
“I was waiting on you.”
“Maybe we can jog and overtake him,” I suggested.
“If you’ve got it in you, let’s go,” she said and took off jogging. She knew me too well.
I waited for the dogs to follow her, and then I trotted after. We jogged along for what seemed like forever. All the while, I was looking for some clues along the trail that would indicate we were still headed in the direction that Laurel had traveled. The torrential rainfall did not aid my rapid side-to-side searching. The fact that it was now only dripping from the trees and bushes was of little consequence when the detective had been saturated and weary from exertion. My humanity was showing in full color.
I finally had to stop jogging. My legs refused to pound the trail another step. Running along a trail in the mountains has more than the inclines and declines as obstacles. The few thousand roots that cross the trail amid the rocks adds a great deal to the enjoyment of jogging. I use the word enjoyment with blatant sarcasm.
“Hey,” I yelled out to Starnes, who was about 75 yards ahead of me. “I need a break.”
I watched her slowly come to a walk and then stop. She put her hands on her knees, the universal sign of needing a breather. I felt better knowing that superwoman was also tired.
I walked slowly toward her. Her hands were still on her knees when I got there.
“Well, at least you’re human.”
“You had doubts,” she said.
“Many times.”
“I’m just younger and maybe in better shape,” she offered.
“That crossed my mind, but I didn’t like the way it sounded.”
“Get used to it. And, I think the giant has disappeared.”
“Maybe he just got tired of waiting on us girls,” I said.
“Maybe.”
“You have another theory?”
“He might know where she is.”
“You don’t think he trusts us?”
“I don’t think he thinks like we think.”
“Can you say that really fast ten times?”
“I think that Homer bonded with Laurel quickly, and he has some need to protect her once he learned from us that she was still in danger.”
“So, we just need to keep moving and hope we can follow whatever clue he might leave.”
“That’d be my best idea,” Starnes said.
“And you don’t think he would want us along for additional help?”
“He’s not thinking that way. In his mind, he’s strong enough to save her from anything or anyone.”
“He’s not thinking about us at all,” I said.
“Probably would not enter his mind.”
“We could get lost out here,” I said.
“What makes you think we’re not already lost?”
Starnes laughed and began moving again. I didn’t think that it was so funny. In another hour or so we stopped to rest and give the dogs some water. Our water bottles were beginning to run low. They were matching my energy level.
The short respite was over, and we were back at it. A short time later we arrived at a sign post which provided two options. We could go either left or right. Two roughly constructed arrows provided our selections. A place called Grapevine was to the right. It was five more miles of pleasurable hiking in the elements. Big Laurel was to the left and it was a delightful ten miles away. I wanted to scream, but I chose not to make any sound at all except for a disgruntled grunt.
“Names familiar to you?” I said.
“Yep. One is a community, and the other is a large stream or river, by some estimates. At any rate, it’s a body of water that flows a good way.”
“Anything significant about either place?”
“You mean as it relates to Laurel?”
“That would be one significance,” I said.
“Yeah … you might say so. The trail to the left is in the direction of Laurel’s home and her mother Beth.”
“That would be significant.”
“For some reason, I don’t think she would go home.”
“She perhaps believes that her mother has betrayed her.”
“You believe that?” Starnes said.
“No. I think her mother was lonely and made a bad choice in the selection of a man to date. She was charmed by Curly McClure, and I think it’s understandable, given her loneliness.”
“Even when your daughter tells you something untoward happened?”
“Well, that’s a tougher thing to swallow. But since neither one of us has children, maybe we shouldn’t judge Beth Call too harshly until we unravel more of this soggy plot.”
“I have Dog and you have Sam,” she said as if that was part of the discussion at hand.
“Granted,” I said. “But in those relationships, I am never certain as to which one is the parent.”
We moved out to the right, heading towards the rather interesting named area called Grapevine. Five more miles of hiking lay ahead, if we could rely upon the sign. Since Homer said earlier that he had blazed the trail from his place, I wondered if he had been the person to put up the signs. He would be my likely suspect.
It was close to dark and the rain began falling steadily once more. I have this theory about misery. Once you are already miserable, I don’t think that the return of outside forces increases one’s misery. The misery simply jumps back to the level it was when whatever was causing it in the first-place returns. It’s a working theory. Few people share my philosophical persuasion when it comes to the subjects of life.
Darkness an
d extreme wet were on top of us before we had gone thirty minutes along this new trail.
“Perhaps the gods do not like us,” Starnes said.
“At the moment, I’m not too hot on the gods. Can we find a large tree or something to weather this thing?”
It is rather difficult to search for shelter when it is dark and raining. We finally succumbed to the elements and leaned our backs against an old tree that was wide enough at its base to accommodate two drenched women and two wet dogs. I huddled with Sam and Starnes grabbed Dog.
Nothing like the smell of wet canines while trying to get some warmth and rest.
Chapter 20
The sun was well up by the time we moved the next morning. Sam was nestled tightly against my still damp body. I raised my head and saw that Starnes was now using Dog as a pillow. Dog seemed satisfied with her value to her master.
A cool breeze brushed against me, giving me a chill. I wished I had a jacket or sweatshirt. I craved coffee. Food would have been a good start to the day, but coffee was a yearning on this morning. The energy bars were slight nourishment but certainly not sufficient for my needs.
Despite my chill, I removed my lightweight jacket and shirt. I figured there was no one around to leer since we were quite literally in the middle of nowhere. At least it felt like nowhere, nowhere I had ever been. I rolled up the jacket and squeezed. Nothing much dripped from my effort. I did the same procedure to my shirt. The water dripped slowly. I did the same with my bra with the identical minimal success at extracting water. My clothing simply needed time to dry. Like that was going to happen.
I shivered and decided to put my items back on despite the wet. I then removed my jeans. The jeans were harder to squeeze so I used a nearby tree branch, wrapping them halfway around it and twisting. First, a right twist; then, a left twist. A meager bit of water dripped to the ground. Despite the tiny accomplishment, it felt like success to me. Less water, less weight.
Several minutes later I was tired from the exertion, so I put my jeans back on.
“What on earth are you doing?” Starnes said as she was now sitting up and watching my process.
“Wringing out a portion of the water I had retained from the last twenty-four hours.”
“Did you make coffee?” she said.
“Yeah and the bagels will be coming out of the oven in about five minutes.”
“I can’t move.”
“I know. My body was not happy with me either.”
“Here, help me up, old woman,” Starnes said as she extended her left arm in my direction.
I pulled her to her feet. Dog awakened, stood up, and then proceeded to shake water on all three of us.
“Thanks,” I said.
“They’re feeling what we’re feeling.”
“We need to find that girl today. This is about as much fun as I can enjoy.”
“We’ll either find her or run out of mountains. Grapevine will alter our course significantly.”
“I assume that when we get there, we will find some houses and people who live in said houses.”
“Yes, ma’am. Sparsely populated, but, nevertheless, there will be peopled places.”
“If Laurel has come this way, will she find people who might help her?”
“I would say yes. Mountain people tend to help those in need.”
“My cell phone is dead. Do you know the time?”
“What difference does the time make?” Starnes said.
“None. I just like to know what time it is.”
“Okay,” she said and looked up at the sky. “It’s 7:37 a.m. The sun is shining and the day is bright with possibilities.”
“I asked for the time and I get sarcasm.”
“Deservedly so,” she said. “Let’s get a move on. As John Wayne once quipped, ‘we’re burning daylight.’”
Starnes moved out at a much slower pace than yesterday. It was obvious that she was tired, and I had no doubt that her body parts were aching similarly to mine. I followed. Grudgingly. The dogs were lagging behind for the moment. I would imagine that they would limber up quicker than the two of us.
The sun felt good as we walked down the mountain towards Grapevine. I had no idea what to expect, but I was hopeful. That would best be termed blind hope, I reasoned. I had no way of knowing whether this day would be one of promise or one of more discouragement. Optimist that I am, I was leaning towards the good side. Besides that, I was nearly dry at the time. Nearly being the operative word.
After two hours in the sunshine and no rain on my body, I was almost dry except for my underwear, socks, and boots. The boots were no longer making squishing sounds, but they still contained lots of moisture. They needed some hours in the hot sun to dry out. Much like my disposition, I confess. That, despite my feeble optimism, which I held onto like a hungry person, could hold onto a bit of food.
The sun was out. That helped me. Sunshine seems to be good for ailing attitudes and wet personalities.
A shelter appeared as if out of nowhere. Just off the trail to our right, it was nothing to write home about and yet it offered some protection for the weary hikers like us. It just came to us too late to have been of use for the previous night. There was a bed-type rack in one corner and a bench seat in the other. The bed-rack was damp as if it had been occupied before we arrived.
“I suspect that either Laurel or Homer stayed here last night,” I said.
Starnes nodded in agreement and we both continued to search the area for evidence that either or both had been in the shelter.
“I’m good with the wet spot as an indicator,” Starnes said. “Let’s keep moving. We might overtake one or both before sunset.”
We moved out a bit faster now that we had some evidence that we were trailing someone who had passed this way ahead of us. My bet was that it was Laurel who had slept there last night. Homer either had walked all night or had done the primitive camping thing like Starnes and me.
We were getting closer to someone.
Chapter 21
The sunshine was bright, hot, and wonderful on the face of the teenage Laurel Shelton as she moved purposefully on the trail to Grapevine. A noise from behind startled her. She turned but saw nothing. Taking no chances, she left the trail and hid behind a thicket of rhododendron off to the left. She waited while the sound came closer and closer.
Someone was walking quickly.
Her favorable vantage point for viewing the trail was exactly what she needed. There was only one person she wanted to see on that trail. Anyone else could simply pass on by. Controlling the situation was her chief concern.
Laurel peered through the tiny openings in the blooming flowers of the rhododendron. It was a man who was quite tall, quite large. Her fears quickly subsided. She finally recognized him.
“Homer,” she called out from behind the flowering thicket as she moved towards him.
He turned and smiled and ran to her. It was as natural for him to hug her as it was for him to breathe, although in truth he had never touched her before. Never. She embraced him as well.
Laurel Shelton was an atypical teenager. Touching was not an action she was used to doing. That even included her relationship with her mother.
The embrace was invigorating for her as well as for Homer. They acted as if they had been long-time friends. He lifted her from the ground with ease and turned around once or twice. The jubilation that both felt for each other was quite astonishing considering their newly established relationship numbered days not years.
He put her down with ease and stroked her brown hair.
“I was worried,” he said.
“I was worried about you,” she said.
“Needn’t worry ‘bout me.”
“You must have run to catch me,” she said.
“Some. There are two ladies who are searching for you.”
“With dogs?” she said.
“Yes, they have two dogs. One is named Sam and the other,” he laughed a little, “is n
amed Dog. That’s funny.”
“They’re friends, Clancy Evans and Starnes Carver.”
“They seemed okay,” he allowed.
“Are they on the trail as well?”
“They are behind me. I left them because they were tired and could not travel fast like me. You are in danger.”
“Should we wait for them?” Laurel said.
“Someone is still after you. I don’t know where he is,” Homer said. “Maybe moving is better than waiting.”
She nodded in agreement although she wished that the two ladies and the dogs were here now. She trusted Homer but she was uncertain about the identity of the single man on her trail. She had an idea, but it was only an idea.
They walked on in the direction of Grapevine. It wouldn’t be long before they would come to a house. Homer knew the area from his previous hikes. This was not a trail he had created but it was one that he used when he needed grocery store food. It was also one that he had walked to clear his head. Occasionally in his young life he had suffered the need to clear his mind by walking several hours through his mountains.
It was late afternoon when the first house appeared. The trail abruptly ended and they were now walking down a small hill into a settled community after their mountain trail descent. Not many people used this Grapevine trail, which meant that not many people would be seen walking on the old logging road that passed by the first house they came to.
The shadows were long and the shade of the evening was beginning to darken. The front porch of the house was completely shrouded in shade.
Homer heard the squeaking rocker before he saw the person on the porch. Homer’s movements were slight, and it was his peripheral vision which noticed the figure in the shadows. The minimal light helped him to discern that the figure was a man, but it was too dark for any facial recognition.
Laurel noticed the figure as well. Something about the rocking motion was a little familiar to her. The one rocking allowed both feet to leave the porch floor at the same time. A long object was lying across the lap of the rocker. She first thought it might be a broom.
The Dish Ran Away With The Spoon Page 11