This Time in Timberline

by Jennifer Morey

  Walking along the back of the rodeo bleachers, she searched for Andy's hay wagon. Concession stands lined one side of the fairgrounds. People talked and laughed and shouted. The sound of hoof beats came from the arena. The smell of cotton candy and grilling hot dogs filled the warm, August air.

  She smiled and nodded her hello to Sheldon and his wife. Sheldon gave her a friendly smile but Melva eyed her with disapproval. Utah didn't let it get to her as she passed the row of concession stands and made her way to the competition area. A band played polka music. Kids screamed from carnival rides.

  Veering off to her right, she passed the carnival rides and spotted the carving competition. Harvey stood by his mule and cart, right beside the big buffalo. Utah stopped and stared at the mule. It was so lifelike she wondered if Harvey had cheated.

  "It's a mule," Harvey said.

  "Harvey, this is beautiful!" she exclaimed. There were boxes wrapped in gold paper to mimic chunks of gold filling the cart.

  Harvey smiled and color crept onto his cheeks.

  "Did you really make this all on your own?"

  His smile dimmed. "You think somebody else did?"

  "No, I-"

  "I didn't need any help from anybody."

  "I know. I'm sorry, Harvey. I'm just so impressed."

  His smile returned. "Thank you, Utah. Coming from you that means a lot."

  She laughed, more at herself. "Good luck, Harvey. I'm going to go vote for you."

  Waving, she found the voting table and wrote her choice down. Folding the paper, she put it into a box.

  "Hey, Utah!"

  Utah looked up as she left the carving competition and saw Roanne standing with Keegan behind the chili cook-off table. Last year Roanne's chili had won. She went over to them, dodging the throng holding small bowls of samples of each entry.

  "Utah! Keegan made the chili. He's a connoisseur himself." Roanne smiled big, crooked teeth and all, green eyes dancing with happiness.

  "I'll put my vote in for you," Utah said. "I have to find Andy."

  "Mason was just here. He asked if we'd seen you. I think he's afraid you'll back out."

  "That's what I should do."

  "He'd probably drive the wagon to find you and make you climb on. He seemed pretty anxious to see you. You've been avoiding him, he said." Roanne laughed.

  For good reason. She hoped she made it through the day without dragging him into the bushes or something.

  "Hard-to-get is working on him. He's more smitten than ever." Her friend leaned against Keegan. "Kind of like me."

  Keegan kissed her.

  Utah backed away. "Catch you two later." She turned, waving as she headed to put in her vote for their chili.

  "Have fun, Utah!" Roanne yelled. "I want to hear all about it tomorrow. And I don't want to hear it from Megan, okay?"

  Roanne's laughter faded as Utah walked between the carnival area and the raised platform where the polka band played a cheery tune. She spotted Charlie at a table with three other men, sulking as he watched the chili cook-off area. She felt bad for him, but also not. He and Roanne weren't meant for each other. In time, he'd see that.

  She wished it were that simple for her.

  Ahead of her was the skillet toss. Lulu, Melva, and Megan all held a skillet in their hands. Utah laughed at the sight of Lulu hurling a twelve-incher into the air. Megan looked back and saw her. Utah tried to cover her mirth but Megan's scowl said she'd seen it. Turning to her left, she passed the lawn tractor races, horseshoe tournament, and craft booths before she caught sight of Andy's hay wagon. Just up from the beer tent, Andy took tickets from a group of couples and kids waiting to hop into the back.

  Utah saw Ellie sitting inside the beer tent with Reed and waved. Ellie waved back and Reed waved with her. As she turned away, Utah saw someone else. Calvin. Sitting alone at a small table, he drained his drink and stood. Utah walked faster toward the hay wagon. She looked for Mason but didn't see him.

  Glancing back, she saw Calvin gaining ground on her. She resisted the urge to run. People surrounded them. What would he do? Nothing that witnesses would see.

  She kept walking toward the wagon. Almost there.

  Calvin grabbed her arm from behind and swung her around to face him. She struggled to be free, but he jerked her and leaned his face close to hers. "Don't forget our deal, Utah. Your time is running out."

  His breath smelled like beer and his eyes were beady and cold. She yanked her arm. "Let go of me."

  He squeezed harder. "One more week, bitch."

  "I said let go!" She yanked harder. He released her and she stumbled backward, bumping against something solid. A man's chest. And that man put his hands on her hips to steady her.

  "I thought you and I had an understanding," Mason said.

  The cold menace didn't diminish in Calvin. Mockingly, he lifted his hands in surrender. "I just needed a word with her."

  Mason stepped around Utah and went to stand in front of Calvin, or more like over him. He loomed over the man. "I warned you to stay away from her."

  Calvin moved backward. "She has something that belongs to me. It doesn't concern you."

  "Everything about Utah concerns me. Remember that the next time you think about getting within ten feet of her."

  With a silent threat leveled on Utah, Calvin turned and headed back to the beer tent.

  The tension in Utah's muscles eased.

  "Are you all right?"

  She looked up into angry green eyes and nodded. He was so close to her.

  He lifted her arm and caressed her skin. The gentle touch brushed shivers to life.

  "My dad said he came to see you at your house."

  Had Ellie told Andy? Damn that woman. "Nothing happened."

  "I don't like it, Utah."

  Neither did she. She looked toward the beer tent. Calvin was gone.

  Mason touched her chin and steered her head forward. "You're with me now."

  His words elicited more than one meaning. She wished she were truly with him. With him always.

  Just then she realized her hands were on his chest. She moved her fingers over the hard muscles and stepped closer to him, her sleeveless floral sundress not much of a barrier. He put his arms on her waist. It seemed natural. Being in his arms. She didn't fight it.

  "I'm with you now," she echoed his words.

  His eyes smoldered with satisfaction. Did he feel the same as her? Dare she hope?

  "You've been avoiding me," he murmured.

  "Yes." Out of necessity.

  "I missed you."

  "I missed you, too." It frightened her how much.

  She couldn't look away from his glowing eyes. A moment passed. The flurry of the festival faded. His head lowered, lips an inch from hers, eyes asking. She didn't say no. He kissed her and the fire inside her jumped. He kissed her once more and then pulled back.

  Wordlessly, he took her hand and led her to the wagon. Andy helped people into the back with a stool, wearing a grin as he saw them.

  "Just in time," he said. "I thought I was going to have to take the first group and miss the Rock Hammer throw."

  Utah moved to the front of the wagon and would have climbed up on her own, but Mason lifted her by her waist and propelled her effortlessly onto the seat. Her heart tripped over itself while tingles spread from where his hands had touched. Behind her, people talked excitedly about the impending hay wagon ride. They were all tourists, so at least she wouldn't have to worry about tongues wagging by the end of the trip.

  Mason climbed up onto the bench to her left, biceps bunching and flexing, flat stomach hidden beneath the short-sleeved white button-up shirt he wore. His long thighs settled in an open position, faded and holey jeans hugging the muscles in his legs. And that crotch...

  A child whined, but quieted as Mason gently tapped the reins and the two chestnuts started to move. The seat wasn't very big. Every once in a while her shoulder bumped against his as he guided the horses to a dirt road that l
ed up the mountain near Andy's house. There was an old homestead on his property that once belonged to the first settler of Timberline.

  "Edgar Provence came from a humble background," Mason said when he began the tour. The crowd of awed and excited adults and children listened. Everyone who bought tickets knew the wagon ride's theme was Timberline's legendary founder. "He traveled alone from Atlanta, Georgia, wanting a better life. The way he planned to get it was by mining for gold and silver."

  Utah watched him as he divided his attention between guiding the chestnuts and talking over his shoulder. Did he know how good he was at this?

  "Along the way he met his wife, Esther. His journals said she was a slender beauty with long golden hair and blue eyes. She came from a poor family just like Edgar, and legend says he rescued her from it, taking her from the plains of Nebraska to the mountains of Colorado."

  "Is it true his ghost still haunts Timberline?" a young boy asked, his brown eyes big with excitement.

  "I'll get to that," Mason said, grinning at Utah.

  He enjoyed telling the tale of Timberline's roots. He fit in here. Whether he agreed or not.

  The chestnuts worked harder as the slope grew steeper. Pine trees shaded the rocky dirt road. The sound of hooves digging for traction and wooden wheels rolling over rough surface lulled Utah into the mood Mason had created.

  "Edgar made Esther his wife and took her with him to Colorado. They traveled with other settlers when they reached the Rocky Mountains. Springtime on the Front Range was harsh back then. They survived a blizzard, but lost a lot of their companions. Edgar, his wife, and two cowboys were all that was left of their party. They braved cold nights, bad weather, and mountain lions on their way here.

  "Edgar wrote in his journals that he wanted to find a place in the mountains of Colorado, somewhere there was plenty of water and shade, and mountains that promised a return for his trouble."

  The road crested a hill and dipped. In the trees, a small cabin with a door and two windows could be seen through a cluster of aspen trees. Wild flowers swayed in a gentle breeze and sunlight filtered through branches.

  "This is the cabin Edgar and the two cowboys built. It has two bedrooms and one room with a cooking area and fireplace. The town of Timberline restored it to its original condition." Mason looked back at the silent crowd. "We'll take a break here, but we ask that you don't go near the cabin."

  Voices erupted and people jumped off the wagon. Utah stayed where she was, watching the people mill about and take pictures.

  "And you claim you hate this town," she said without looking at him.

  "I never said I hated it."

  "Okay, you don't like it."

  He didn't respond so she looked at him. His eyes were soft with contentment she doubted he was even aware of.

  "When are you going to stop fighting it?" she asked.

  "When are you?"

  "That's not what I meant." She reached her arm out, palm up, indicating the crowd of ten or so tourists. "You know more about Edgar and Esther Provence than I do."

  "Dad told me what he wanted me to say."

  "Oh, stop it, Mason. I can tell you're enjoying it."

  "Only because you're here."

  The flare of warmth that confession instilled made her turn toward the tourists. A girl of around five crouched to pick a white flower. Her mother admonished her for doing so on a historic site. A couple sat on a fallen log, smiling at each other as they talked. An old woman took careful photos with her digital camera of the cabin, tall flowers providing a pretty foreground.

  "It's true," Mason said.

  "It's more than that," she answered without looking at him.

  He grunted in a half-laugh sort of way. "What...you think I belong here?"

  That brought her head turning. "Yes."

  For the first time, he seemed uncertain. "You're all I've thought about since that day I saw you at your mother's funeral."

  She turned back to the crowd, alarmed at the strength of emotion his declaration spurred. She yearned to trust him. Yearned to give all she had to him, all that was in her heart.

  The wagon jostled as he jumped down. Unable to stop herself, she watched him stride toward the tourists, long legged and sexy in those worn jeans and hiking boots. He narrated some more about Mr. and Mrs. Provence.

  A few people moved closer to where he stood.

  "Edgar knew a little about the geology of this area, and thought digging a mine here would produce gold or silver. There is gold and silver in these hills, but it's coal that ended up giving the most return. Edgar never made a lot of money on his claim, but he was instrumental in forming the town. Hunters and trappers and other travelers came here on their way to Steamboat Springs. Some stayed, others spread the word of what a gem Timberline was, and still is to this day.

  "But having lost all his money and scraping by, Edgar and his wife died poor and alone up here in this cabin.

  "It's said he went crazy looking for gold. And one cold, hard winter, he and Esther froze to death. Kind of like Baby Doe Tabor up in Leadville."

  Murmurs spread over the small gathering.

  "Legend has it Edgar still haunts this area. Anyone who comes up here after dark risks a run-in with his ghost. And he's not a happy ghost. Not only does he no longer have Esther, he still hasn't found his gold."

  When he turned with a grin to look at her, she shook her head. He was full of tales.

  Calling the break to a close, Mason climbed back onto the wagon after everyone else loaded up.

  "Edgar's ghost," she teased as they started to move, her voice camouflaged by breeze, tourist chatter, and hoof beats.

  Mason chuckled. "Dad wanted me to make it interesting.

  And he'd enjoyed doing so. Something about Timberline had found its way into his heart. Maybe it had always been there. She fought the excitement building inside her. He may like the story of Edgar Provence, but it wasn't enough to keep him here. He was from here. That didn't mean he'd start believing he belonged here. Even though she had a strong suspicion he did.

  Andy was right about his son. If only his son would listen on a deeper level.

  "Hey, Mr."

  Utah looked over her shoulder the same time as Mason at the young boy.

  "Does Edgar ever show up in town?"

  Utah could tell Mason fought a big smile. "There've been reports that he as."

  "Rrrrealy?" the boy breathed.

  "The Dusty Page Bookstore used to be a brothel."

  Utah elbowed him. "It was not."

  "What's a brothel?" the boy asked.

  "That's enough, Jake," his mother joined in, sending Mason a warning look.

  Utah covered a laugh. This was so much like old times. The way she felt with him so many years ago. How could it be possible? They were so much older and mature now.

  The boy whined a little.

  "I've heard Edgar's spirit walks the isles in the bookstore," Mason went on, distracting the boy from a tantrum. "In the evening, around closing time, people have seen him in the back of the store where it's darkest."

  Murmurs mixed with charmed and soft laughter in the back of the wagon, two lines of swaying adults bordering younger kids and teens sitting on hay.

  "When it gets quiet, just when the sun sets and there's still enough light outside but not enough to light the corners inside, he comes out. He drifts over books, between shelves, through them. He tips over water bottles. He blows air behind people's ears."

  A man laughed, deep and shrewd, like he knew Mason was putting on a show.

  "I read Edgar shows up in the rooms above the Angler's restaurant, too," A woman said, holding an infant, her dark-haired husband by her side.

  "That's true," Mason said, facing forward again, talking loud enough for everyone to hear.

  Utah felt a moment of pause. This wasn't something just anyone knew. Only those close to Gabriel Swan knew his stories. Gabriel was a private man who took great pains removing himself from sma
ll-town gossip.

  Mason didn't appear to notice her scrutiny as he continued. "Gabe Swan's family has run that restaurant for years. But before it was a restaurant, it was a saloon. The rooms above Anglers are rented still to this day, but they're of the highest quality you'll find in town."

  "So when does Edgar's ghost visit?" a grown man asked, his wife smiling with a giggle beside him.

  "Just like the bookstore. When it's quiet. That means late at night."

  "One lady woke at the crack of dawn to him standing at the foot of her bed!" a teenaged boy said, eyes bright and smile crooked with excitement.

  "He missed his wife in the afterlife," Mason said, stubble-rimmed, mouth hitching up on the left side.

  The animal. Utah smiled her heart at him.

  He chuckled and tapped the chestnuts into a canter.

  "Isn't Esther a ghost, too?" Jake blurted.

  "No. At least there've been no reports."

  "My mom said she saw Mrs. Summer Mountain Claus last night."

  "Jake," the mother gritted.

  "That's what you called them," Jake protested.

  "After a few gins," the man next to her quipped, and his friend next to him shared a laugh.

  "Actually, Esther is a ghost," Mason said.

  The back of the wagon fell silent.

  "She haunts Nell's Deli, what used to be the local barber shop." That much was true. "She had an affair with the barber."

  Utah elbowed him again.

  "He lived upstairs, above what is the deli today. The apartment still exists today but it isn't used."

  "Is that true?" Utah asked. He seemed so serious.

  "Yep. Nell rents the apartment but it's vacant right now."

  "Is that where the ghost haunts?" the boy asked, fascinated.

  "Mm hmm," Mason answered. "And that's why it's vacant."

  "It is not," Utah said in a low voice, smiling at his ability to tell a tall tale.

  He chuckled. "It's true it's vacant."

  "For somebody with such an aversion to small towns, you sure know a lot about this one."

  He faced forward, answering questions that came from tourists the rest of the way back to the fairgrounds.

  They took several more groups up the mountain and Mason's tale was different each time. When they finally made it back to the fairgrounds from the last hay ride, it was getting dark and she regretted that the day had come to an end.