Calendar Girls

by April Hill

“Then why are you going to spend the winter in a freezing one room cabin on some godforsaken mountaintop?”

  “I’m going up there because I need a cheap place where I can lick my wounds for a while, and I own that cabin outright. No rent, no mortgage. Built it from the ground up with my own two hands—for my old age—which is coming a hell of a lot quicker than I expected. Come spring, I’ll haul my ass back down the mountain, find a place I can afford to live, and try to put my life back together. Besides, the one thing I promised myself out of all this is a few weeks of peace and quiet, and that’s exactly what I’m going to get.” He tore the signed paper into small pieces and tossed them down on the table. “Find yourself another mountain man.”

  * * *

  Early the next morning, Russ checked the tarp on the back of his pickup one last time, assuring himself that the load of provisions he was taking with him up the mountain were properly packed and covered. When he’d finished that small chore, he stopped by the Bee Hive to say his good-byes, then headed north, to the high country.

  It began to snow just before he reached the turnoff, making Russ grateful that he’d started so early. Last winter, he’d come close to skidding off the road, and he wasn’t eager to risk it again. It was a long way to the bottom—straight down the side of a rocky, ice-covered mountainside.

  The treacherous twenty-two mile trip from the turnoff to the cabin took twice as long as it would have in good weather, and by the time Russ pulled up it was getting dark. He’d already carried one armload of groceries into the damp, chilly cabin and started back to the truck for more when he saw a dark form darting away from the pickup, and into the brush. Too small to be a bear. A coyote, maybe? Russ walked slowly to the cab, pulled the shotgun from the rack behind the front seat, and chambered a round.

  “For God’s sake, put that stupid thing away!” a voice shouted. A very familiar voice. Russ swore, and slammed the truck door closed.

  “Damn it,” he roared. “You could have gotten your fool head blown off!”

  Pulling a gigantic canvas duffle bag behind her, Julie Downing crawled out of the snow bank where she’d tried to hide. “Well, I didn’t, so just calm down would you? I want to talk to you.”

  “Talk to me!” he bellowed. “You’ll be lucky if I don’t toss your dumb ass off the mountain! What the Sam Hill were you thinking, pulling a stunt like this?”

  “I was hoping that once I explained everything to you, you’d reconsider your decision, “ she said coolly. “If we can’t reach an agreement, you can simply take me back to town, and…”

  He pointed to the sky. “Are you kidding? I couldn’t get back down that road, now. By morning, we won’t be able to make it to the damned outhouse without snowshoes.”

  She brushed some of the caked snow from her jeans. “How was I supposed to know it was going to fucking snow like this?”

  Russ shook his head in disgust. “That’s what it does in the mountains in winter. You’re gonna’ make one terrific nature photographer, lady. All right, go ahead and get on inside before you freeze. You picked yourself a hell of a time to play stowaway.”

  When he’d finished unloading the truck, he found his unwelcome houseguest seated primly on the edge of the one bed, looking slightly nervous, but still defiant.

  She pointed to the long duffle bag. “My clothing and equipment are in that bag, and I fully intend to pay for anything else I…”

  “You’re damned right you’ll pay,” Russ growled. “Maybe not the way you had in mind, though.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You may as well stop posturing, “ she replied smugly. “I don’t believe for one moment that you’re the sort of man who’d resort to violence over something this silly. And if you knew me better, you’d know that I don’t find veiled threats like that one in the least convincing, or…”

  In one swift motion, Russ pulled her up from the bed. Before she could mouth her first wail of complaint, he’d bent her across his thigh, yanked down her jeans and laid half a dozen painful swats across the seat of her sheer panties.

  “Now,” he said grimly, dumping her back on the bed. “Do you need a little more convincing?”

  “No, thank you,” she grumbled, struggling to rub her stinging bottom and pull her tangled pants up at the same time. “I’m convinced. You are the sort to resort to violence. Are you happy, now?”

  “Not yet, but this is only the first day. If you watch your step—and your mouth— you just might get through what’s left of it without getting your ass blistered for real. That bag of yours isn’t big enough to hold everything you need, lady. What you need is a few hard lessons in good manners, some plain common sense, and respect for other people’s privacy. And what you need most is the kind of licking you’ve obviously never had, one that’ll convince you that you can’t always have your damned way in life.”

  “I’ve got a real strong feeling you and I haven’t come to a genuine meeting of the minds yet,” he continued, “so let me lay out the rules for you. And if were you, I’d listen up good, because I won’t be going over ‘em again.” He pointed to a narrow cot in the corner. “You sleep there. You can stow your stuff under the bed and on the bookshelf in the corner, and use that little chest of drawers for your clothes. I’ll rig up a couple of blankets to give you some privacy. I’m on the picky side about housekeeping, so I’ll expect you to be the same while you’re enjoying my hospitality. If you leave crap lying around where it shouldn’t be, I’ll throw it outside in a snow bank, and then take a wooden spoon to your lazy butt. You got all that?”

  She glanced around the one large room. “Hospitality! This place is a fucking hovel.”

  He grinned. “Could be, but it’s my hovel, and I like it neat.”

  “Since you want to play landlord-tenant, Mr. Warren, you should know that tenants have the right to do as they please in the space they pay for.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not your average landlord, you haven’t paid penny one, and as of this moment, your credit with me is a little south of zero. Follow the rules, and we’ll get through these next few days without too much trouble. But if it is trouble you’re looking for, I’m the fella to give it to you.”

  “Another threat?”

  “Nope. More like a promise. I haven’t given you that licking I mentioned, but I haven’t forgotten about it. And if you know what’s good for you, you won’t forget it, either. Now, are we straight about everything?”

  “Oh, I think so,” she said sweetly. “I do every single thing you tell me to, without question and without delay, and I won’t get what you call a licking? Is that about it?”

  “Pretty much, except I’m not real fond of sarcasm, either. Kinda sets my teeth on edge, you know? You see that long black strap hanging over there by the door?”

  Julie glanced at the object—and flushed. “Yes.”

  “You know what it is?”

  She knew, but it was a discussion she was hoping to redirect, not prolong.

  “It’s a razor strop,” he said. “It belonged to my grandfather. Up here, an old-fashioned straight razor works better than a safety razor, and lasts longer. And, in case you don’t know, a razor strop leaves a hell of a welt on a bare butt.”

  “Very funny.”

  He chuckled. “No, it’s not. Just take my word for it. Grandpa demonstrated it a couple of times. I quit stealing his cigars after the first demonstration, and his liquor after the second. So, if you’ve got any bad habits that need breaking…”

  “I quit smoking two years ago, Mr. Warren,” she said tartly. “And I don’t drink, either.”

  “Good for you. Now if you could manage to stop writing rubber checks and lying, and…”

  “Fuck you!” she hissed.

  “And cussing, of course,” he added. “Real unattractive habit in a young lady. We may need to work on that.”

  By nightfall, they were effectively snowbound.

  * * *

  Despite the almost palpable tension between them, the f
irst week passed without a problem. At first, they spoke only when necessary, and avoided each other’s company, which wasn’t easy in the claustrophobic conditions inside the small cabin. Russ had cleared a narrow path from the back porch to the outhouse, but little else, so every morning, Julie bundled up and ventured outside through the front door, climbing over or punching her way through the remains of the frozen bank of snow that blocked it. She was hoping for a few shots of the elusive wildlife that left tracks in the deep snow surrounding the cabin, but never made an appearance. With the temperatures often below freezing, her photographic excursions were necessarily short, but they served a secondary, very necessary function, as well. Outside, she could stay out of her cabin-mate’s way.

  On the third day they actually talked—about the weather, mostly, but the conversation was pleasant, and even cheerful. And when Julie got up the next morning, she discovered that he had cleared the front steps and shoveled a pathway to the edge of the woods.

  The truth was that Julie was beginning to feel guilty about what she’d done. In many ways—the first day’s spanking aside—Russ Warren was turning out to be a pretty nice guy—and a very attractive one. She was going to have to show him that she wasn’t the spoiled, big-city brat he thought she was. Which wouldn’t be easy, of course, since that’s what she’d been for most of her life.

  One frosty morning, while Julie was out of cabin, Russ noticed a loose-leaf album of photographs—hers presumably—lying on the cot. When she came back in, stomping the snow from her boots, he was still glancing through the pages.

  “What happened to my privacy?” she asked, feigning annoyance.

  “Privacy costs extra, around here,” he said. He pointed to the open album. “These are damned good, but I figure you know that, or you wouldn’t have left them here for me to see.”

  Julie flushed, but didn’t try to pretend that he was wrong. She had very much wanted him to see the photos—and to like them. “You really think they’re good?”

  “Well, I’m no photographic expert, but I know animals, and these are some of the best wildlife shots I’ve ever seen. They’re honest and unsentimental. I like that.”

  “Thank you,” she said quietly.

  He smiled. “You’re welcome.”

  Russ was beginning to think that being snowbound with Julie Downing might be a lot more pleasant than he’d expected.

  * * *

  Russ was wrong. In spite of her best intentions, the primitive conditions and incessant cold were beginning to wear on his attractive roommate’s nerves. The very next morning, he was awakened just before dawn by a whine of complaint.

  “I’m cold.”

  Russ pulled the warm blanket liner inside his sleeping bag closer around his shoulders.

  Russ yawned. “So, go back to bed.”

  “But the fire went out.”

  “It generally does if you don’t stoke it. The wood pile’s out back—under the canvas tarp.”

  “Why isn’t that your job?” she demanded irritably. “You’re the landlord.”

  “House rules. First one who rolls out of bed gets the fire going. And today, that would be you.”

  “I thought you’d be up already—out hunting for something we could eat. You know, elk, buffalo…”

  Russ cracked one eye. “Buffalo?”

  Julie waved her hand dismissively. “Whatever. If you don’t hunt, what do you plan on eating up here for the rest of the damned winter?”

  “I’m kinda partial to canned chili, and ravioli. Chicken noodle soup, macaroni and cheese from a box—you know, the usual tough, wilderness hardened mountain man cuisine.”

  “Why don’t you just get a microwave? You’ve got a generator, for God’s sake.”

  “Do you know how long a generator would run a microwave oven?”

  “Well, can’t you just add more wood? To work the generator, I mean?”

  “Generators don’t run on wood. They run on gasoline.”

  “And there’s no gas station nearby?”

  He groaned. “Twenty-two miles down the mountain you can get all the gas you want—two fifty a gallon. You’re not going to let me sleep, are you?”

  “How much gasoline do we have on hand?”

  “Ten gallons in the red plastic jugs in the back of the truck.” he grumbled. “For an emergency. Lay one finger on them and see what happens.”

  “You should have brought more food,” she observed smugly.

  “I didn’t plan on having an extra mouth to feed,” he said wearily. “Did anybody ever tell you that you eat like a damned horse?”

  “You could have brought a ham, or maybe a few nice beef roasts,” she insisted. “God knows they’d keep well enough in this freezing hovel. The one thing we’re not fucking short of is refrigeration.”

  “Sure. And those grizzly bears you’re so crazy about would get a whiff and break down the door looking for their supper.”

  “All right, then,” she suggested cheerfully, “Why don’t I just take the truck and run down to that little town we passed and get some groceries. If I keep eating macaroni and cheese at every other meal, I’ll be a blimp. Do you have any idea how many calories there are in that crap?”

  Russ yawned. “No one’s going anywhere for a while,” he said. “Maybe all winter. Take a look out the window. It started snowing again, just after midnight.”

  Julie wiped the frost from the window and glanced out.

  “Shit!”

  Russ smiled to himself, pulled the covers over his head, and went back to sleep.

  Two minutes later, he heard the sound of the pickup being started. The engine growled a few times in complaint, then roared to life.

  By the time he reached the cabin door, the truck had plowed backward through three feet of wet snow and lurched to the edge of the clearing, narrowly missing the steep embankment. Russ’s bellow of rage was drowned out by the tortured scream of the transmission as a frustrated Julie shoved the gearshift this way and that, trying to get the truck out of reverse. Russ was still at the door, trying to pull his boots on while the pickup wallowed crazily in the muddy slush. Then, slowly but steadily, it lumbered forward, made an awkward, sliding turn onto the snow-covered road, and disappeared.

  He was trudging through the knee-deep ruts the truck had made, with his parka half on when he heard the impact of the crash. The sound was muffled by the snow, and it came from a good half-mile away, but the sound of sheet metal being crushed against solid wood was unmistakable. Russ swore. She’d rammed the pickup into a damned tree.

  Several damned trees, as it turned out. The pickup had come to rest in a ditch, in a copse of scrub pines. The front end was buried too deep in a snow bank to assess all of the damage, but he could see that the driver’s side was badly mangled. By the time he slid down the side of the ditch and got there, Julie was clambering out of the passenger-side window—apparently unhurt. Russ discovered—to his surprise—that he was considerably more relieved than he was angry.

  At first, anyway. When a quick check confirmed that the remorseless truck thief hadn’t sustained even a small bruise, Russ’s mood changed quickly. He took her arm and tried to pull her back up to the road, but she shook loose, and refused to move.

  “I’m sorry about the damage, but I’m not about to go back to that festering rat-hole you call a cabin. The heater in the truck is still working, and I think I can probably back out, if you’ll just…”

  “The truck’s stuck ‘til spring,” he said grimly. “And thanks to you, so are we. Until we can hike out of here, we’re both going back—half-a-mile straight up that mountain. And if you open your idiot mouth again before I tell you to, I’m going to take my belt off and whale the tar out of you, then make you climb every damned step with your pants down and your sorry ass on fire.” Noticing that she wasn’t wearing gloves, he took off his own and gave them to her. “Now, start moving. I’d like to get back to the festering rat hole before we both freeze to death in this goddamned ditch
.”

  At which point, Julie’s well-known temper showed itself, again.

  “You can go to hell, you loud-mouthed sonuvabitch!” Julie had made a number of dumb mistakes in her life, but she now made what was perhaps the dumbest mistake ever—by misjudging Russ Warren’s patience. Hurling the gloves defiantly in his face, she turned and started back to the truck. She had gone no more than three steps in the deepening snow when he wrapped one arm around her waist, lifted her off her feet, and strode over to the pickup—carrying her across his hip like a sack of potatoes.

  “Put me down, damn it!”

  And in one sense, he did put her down, by dumping her unceremoniously over the pickup’s bent tailgate, on her stomach. Then, holding her firmly in place with one strong hand, he began pulling off his belt with the other. Now aware that he fully intended to carry out his threat, Julie kicked out at him with both feet, and managed to deliver one painful blow to his right knee. Russ swore a couple of times, then groped under her parka and hauled her jeans down to her knees with one mighty yank—popping the top button and tearing the zipper in the process. And to Julie’s horror, he didn’t stop there. Seconds later, she felt her warm woolen underwear being dragged down her thighs, leaving her naked from waist to knee. There wasn’t a lot of time to worry about the sudden drop in body temperature, though, because in the next instant, Russ’s wide, hand-tooled belt landed dead center on its intended target with a resounding thwack, eliciting a deafening shriek from the victim, and a stream of profanity.

  Though Julie wouldn’t have believed it was possible, the four succeeding thwacks were even more agonizing than the first one, possibly because they were being applied to an already half-frozen behind. When she began to howl in earnest, the initial howls were short and involuntary—fairly predictable reactions to each scalding thwack as it arrived at its destination. The one, long, anguished howl that followed came not just from pain, but from frustration and embarrassment. As a professional photographer, and even in her distracted circumstances, it didn’t require much imagination to visualize how she must look—sprawled over the back of a wrecked truck in the snow, screaming bloody murder, with her pants down around her knees and her bare ass freezing and on fire at the same time. As a possible photographic subject, it might have been interesting. As a life experience, it definitely sucked.