Rugged Rockclimber (River's End Ranch Book 8)

by Amelia C. Adams

  “Good to meet you.” Wes moved down the line, shaking hands with everyone. “I hope you enjoy your stay here at River’s End Ranch. Gwen tells me you’re mine for the whole day.”

  “Yes, we signed up for the full package,” Peter said.

  “Great. It’s always more fun that way. We’ll ride four-wheelers to the base of the cliffs, where we’ll eat some boxed lunches packed up by our diner cook, and then we’ll get started.” He glanced around. “I see you’re all wearing jeans and sturdy shoes—that’s good. Are you ready to go?”

  Everyone nodded, so Wes led them outside and to the shed where the four-wheelers were parked. “Have any of you ever ridden one of these before?” he asked.

  “I don’t imagine they could be too complicated,” Peter replied.

  Oh, great. He was one of those guys—the kind who think they know everything and end up knowing nothing. Wes hoped Dani’s cell phone was on—Search and Rescue would definitely be needed before this day was over. He nodded, deciding to see if his gut instincts were right. “Okay, everyone choose a machine and pull them out of the shed. Drive them over to the gravel there, and then I’ll take the lead and show you where we’re going.”

  He stood off to the side, watching as each person climbed on. Peter hopped on his and stared at it.

  “Where’s the gas pedal?” he asked.

  Wes’s lips twitched. “Your accelerator is there on your handlebar,” he explained, motioning with his head. “Just—”

  Peter tore out of the shed, throwing dirt and gravel up in all directions. Amber lifted her arms to cover her face, and a good thing, too.

  “Just open the throttle slowly to start,” Wes finished his sentence when Peter came to an abrupt stop a short distance away. He glanced back to see who was next. Amber was gathering up her caramel-colored hair into a ponytail holder, looking ready to get down to business.

  “I take it I shouldn’t do what he just did,” she said, motioning toward Peter.

  “Not unless you want the same kind of results,” Wes replied with a grin. “Just ease the throttle gently, and when you’re ready to stop, let it go gently.”

  She did as she was told, and pulled out of the shed much more successfully. Giles and Harold followed her example, and Wes brought up the rear, shaking his head. Three out of four people who liked to follow instructions—he could work with that, he supposed.

  It’s not like he was all that crazy about following instructions himself. He’d always jumped right into the middle of things and had fun figuring them out as he went. But he also knew when to be careful, and there were definitely times to listen and obey. Especially out here where he regularly tested the limits of nature—and his own limits as well.

  He looped around and took up his position at the head of the group, and they began their bouncy journey along the trail. He’d asked Bob to pack up some noncarbonated drinks for their lunches—the last thing they’d want was to get showered with soda when they stopped to eat. He’d definitely keep that in mind for the next time he brought his family up this way, though. Wade could use a good soaking—loosen him up a little.

  As they drove along, he glanced back over his shoulder from time to time to make sure everyone was doing all right. Noah Andrews and Paislee Richards, his two assistants, had already gone ahead to get everything ready and would meet them there. The noise of the ATVs made conversation difficult, so he faced frontwards again and concentrated on the trail, thinking about today’s clients.

  He’d already figured Peter out. Giles seemed like a quiet guy, someone who’d go along with just about anything. Harold seemed a little more dynamic, if not at all athletic. And then there was Amber. She was beautiful—no doubt about it—but there was something a little standoffish about her, almost like she was too good for her surroundings. She’d gotten on the four-wheeler without complaint, but she kept glancing around with this look of . . . Wes didn’t know what to call it. Impatience, maybe? Like she’d rather be anywhere but here?

  After a little while longer, Wes held up his arm and motioned for a stop. The cliff where they’d be rappelling was just ahead, and this area was his favorite for a break. He and Wyatt had come out here and felled some trees for benches, then built a fire pit in the center. They wouldn’t be using the fire pit today, but they’d be glad for the benches, as well as for the outhouse hidden discreetly in the little grove of trees to the west.

  Everyone climbed off their ATVs, and Wes unlatched the box he’d attached to the back of his that held the lunches. He passed them all out, and the group got comfortable on the benches.

  “So, Wes, I understand that your family owns River’s End Ranch,” Peter said as he unwrapped his sandwich.

  “That’s right.”

  “It must keep you pretty busy during the summer.”

  “And the winter too.” Wes stretched out his legs in front of him. “We have things to do here all year round.”

  “That’s quite fascinating.” Peter nodded several times as he chewed.

  Wes didn’t know what he’d said that was so fascinating, but he recognized that Peter was uncomfortable with silences and wanted to fill them up. He supposed he could help the guy out. “We do a lot of snowshoeing in the winter—that’s one of my favorite sports here at the ranch. We also do sleigh rides and skiing, sugaring off—if it’s a winter event, we probably do it.”

  “Sugaring off? Like in Little House on the Prairie?” Amber spoke up, leaning forward with interest.

  “That’s right,” Wes told her. He’d never read those books himself, but Kelsi and Dani had, and they’d made sure he was well informed. Especially about Almanzo. Whatever.

  “What’s sugaring off?” Harold asked.

  “It’s the process of converting maple syrup into sugar,” Wes explained. “We start by loading our guests onto a wagon and taking them out into the woods, where we show them how to drill spigots into the maple trees and set buckets under them. It takes quite a while for enough sap to collect in a bucket, so we drive them over to other trees that are farther along in the process and gather up their sap. Then we go back to the ranch, where we have a giant kettle set up over a fire, and we pour the sap in the kettle and take turns stirring it as it becomes sugar.”

  “And . . . that’s fun?” Peter asked, looking doubtful.

  “It all depends on your idea of fun,” Wes replied. “Most of the people who come out here for our wintertime demonstrations are already interested in how things were done in the Old West and want to try them out personally. Our candle-making demonstrations are always a huge hit, for instance.”

  “I’m glad I was born in this modern era,” Peter said as he gathered up his lunch trash. “I’m rather fond of electricity and cars and cell phones.”

  “I am too, but it’s really beautiful out here,” Amber chimed in. “It’s so quiet. Don’t you get tired of the noise sometimes?”

  “What noise?” Peter looked like he had no idea what she was talking about.

  “You know—phones, cars, people.” She said the last with some of that impatience Wes had noticed earlier. “This is a nice break from all that.”

  “I’m sure my father had that in mind when he chose this place,” Peter replied.

  Harold stood up and stretched. “That was a great lunch, Wes. You said your diner cook made it?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Well, I’m definitely going to head over there later and see what else he can whip up. That flavored mayonnaise was really good.”

  Wes grinned. He remembered what Will had said when that mayonnaise was first put on the menu—real men didn’t need fancy goop on their food. That fancy goop had become the most requested condiment at the diner, from what Kelsi had been saying.

  Everyone put their trash back in the box on Wes’s four-wheeler, and he encouraged them to take a moment to visit the outhouse. “All right, now we’re ready for the next phase of our adventure,” he said, motioning toward the cliff. “Are you ready?�
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  “I’ve been looking forward to this for two weeks,” Peter replied.

  “I guess,” Amber said.

  The other two nodded, so Wes led them to the trail that would take them up to the cliff base.

  ***

  For once in a very long time, Amber could hear herself think. Yes, the four-wheelers had been kind of loud, but she was able to block that out a lot easier than she could block out the drone of the office. She’d really enjoyed the drive to this spot, looking around at the trees and the clouds. She’d seen a squirrel darting from branch to branch, and that had made her smile. Something simple that had the power to start melting the ice wall she’d built up inside herself.

  And maybe she needed to give Wes some credit for that too. When she’d first seen him, she’d been immediately struck by his eyes. They were the most curious, fascinating shade of blue she’d ever seen—lighter than the sky, even. He was tall and broad, very muscular, and she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t been attracted to him instantly. But his name? Wes Weston? Who names their kid that? That was like . . . Lars Larsen or something.

  She watched him as he walked along the trail. He moved with confidence, the kind that only comes from tons of experience. The kind that’s very attractive in a man with blue eyes and broad shoulders and an easy smile that he tries to hide when he sees someone peel out on a four-wheeler. He probably thought no one had seen his smirk, but Amber certainly had, and it had made it all the harder for her not to laugh at Peter too.

  The cliff was now looming over them, but Amber didn’t see a trail leading up, and she wasn’t sure where they were hiking. She supposed that once they were at the base, it would all make more sense.

  Up ahead, she saw two people in a small meadow, a young man and a young woman. Wes called out to them, and they each waved in greeting.

  Once they were close enough, Wes introduced them. “Noah and Paislee are my assistants. They’ll be helping you get harnessed up, and they’ll be your anchors here on the ground.”

  What? Harnesses? To go hiking? Okay, that was weird . . . Amber appreciated that the ranch wanted everyone to stay safe, but that was a little overkill, wasn’t it?

  “Amber, Peter, do you want to go first?” Wes asked.

  Paislee walked up to Amber. “Hi there. Here’s your harness—let me help you get buckled up. It’s important to get the tension right, especially for the rappel back down.”

  Amber took a step back. “Wait. Rappel? Just what exactly are we doing here?”

  Wes gave her a funny look. “We’re rock climbing. Isn’t that what you signed up to do?”

  “That might be what Mr. Finnegan signed us up to do, but no one ran that past me.” Amber looked up at the cliff, nausea suddenly churning in her stomach.

  “What did you think we were doing today, Amber?” Peter asked, his harness now fully buckled, thanks to Noah.

  “I thought we were going for a hike. Hiking, I can handle.”

  “But these people are experts, and they’re here to teach us. Aren’t we here to learn about trust? We need to trust them.” Peter’s voice was wheedling, and she wanted to smack him.

  “I can learn about trust right here on the ground, thank you.” She took a step back. “I’m sorry. I’m not going to be able to participate.”

  Wes nodded. “That’s all right—this isn’t for everyone. There are some folding camp chairs over there—why don’t you grab one and watch? Maybe you’ll decide to give it a try after you’ve seen everyone else go.”

  “Not likely, but thank you.” Amber walked over to what looked like an equipment stash and picked up a chair, unfolding it as she walked back over. She could watch, but she would not do. That was just pushing the envelope too far.

  She settled in and caught a word or phrase here and there as Wes explained what they were doing. Apparently, this cliff was a fourth class, whatever that meant, so they’d be using ropes for protection as they climbed. Then, of course, they’d rappel back down when they were done. He explained all the clip thingies and the knot thingies and all the other thingies, and the three male lawyers all nodded like they understood everything he was saying, although she’d be willing to bet that they didn’t.

  Giles took the spot they’d tried to give Amber, and she watched as he and Peter began their ascent. It looked like a lot of hard work, searching for handholds and toeholds and fighting gravity. She wondered if Harold would be able to lift himself off the ground when it was his turn, let alone make it up to the ledge where Wes said they’d be reversing direction and coming back down.

  Noah and Paislee stayed right below the climbers, watching their every move diligently, letting out more rope as needed. Wes watched too for a few minutes, then came over to stand next to Amber’s chair.

  “I’m sorry about that,” he said quietly. “When a guest registers, we ask if they’ve had previous experience or are willing to learn. I had no idea you weren’t up for this.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Amber said. “I know you wouldn’t create an unsafe situation for your guests.” Especially lawyer guests, she wanted to add, but didn’t. “Mr. Finnegan, the head of our firm, is the one who made the arrangements, and I don’t think he was entirely forthcoming with his plans. I’m going to have a little chat with Peter when he gets down from that rope and see what he knows about all this.”

  “I imagine Peter won’t find that conversation very comfortable,” Wes said, another one of those smirks playing on his face.

  “No, I don’t imagine he will.” Amber shifted in her chair. “It’s not that I’m an unadventurous person. I do spontaneous things all the time. Well, some of the time. I guess. But that’s not the point. The point is that I dislike surprises like this, where I’m supposed to do something that terrifies me just because someone else thought it sounded like fun. That’s a recipe for disaster, if you ask me. If I gave it a try and froze up there, we’d all be in trouble.”

  “You’re right,” Wes replied. “It wouldn’t be a safe choice. You’re better off down here.”

  Amber regarded him for a moment. “Just out of curiosity, what would you do if someone froze up there? Do you know?”

  Wes laughed. “Of course I do—it happens all the time. I’d climb up next to them and talk them down. Usually just hearing someone’s voice is enough to bring someone out of that moment, and with some support and encouragement, they’re able to make the descent.”

  “And what’s the longest you’ve ever spent up there talking someone down?”

  Wes looked up at the cliff and rubbed the back of his neck. “Let’s see . . . two hours, I think?”

  Amber blinked in surprise. “You were up there for two hours?”

  “Yeah, it was pretty tiring. But it turned out all right.” He smiled down at her. “So, what are some of these spontaneous things you like to do that definitely don’t involve rock climbing?”

  Amber thought for a minute. “Well, last month I flew to Las Vegas with a friend and her fiancé and watched them get married in one of those little wedding chapels. We did that with only an hour’s notice.”

  Wes nodded. “Impressive. Very spontaneous indeed.”

  She rolled her eyes at him. “You don’t need to mock me. It’s just that my idea of spontaneity and yours are a bit different. What was the last spontaneous thing you did? Rode a bucking bronco?”

  “No, I’ve never done that. I have too much respect for my spine and you know, my ability to walk and stuff.” He grinned again. She liked that. “Hmm. I mixed up some fake Bigfoot scat and left it in the woods for my sister to find.”

  “I . . . I beg your pardon?” Had she heard him correctly?

  He laughed. “My sister is obsessed with Bigfoot and insists he lives around here somewhere. She’s pregnant and her husband won’t let her go on Bigfoot hunts right now, so I put some fake scat at the edge of the woods so she could have some fun without breaking any of her husband’s rules.”

  “And . . . did she kno
w it was fake?”

  “Of course not. I’m that good.”

  Amber shook her head. “I didn’t realize that mixing up scat was an actual skill.”

  “Oh, it is. A highly specialized one.”

  “And just what are these ingredients?” Did she really want to know? Why had she even asked?

  He looked around as though fearing they’d be overheard. “Mud, Wheaties, and cocoa powder,” he said in a low voice.

  “How did you hit on that recipe?”

  “Used my imagination. I thought to myself, if I were Bigfoot, what would I want to eat? The answer was obvious—Wheaties and hot cocoa. The mud was for appearances only, of course.”

  “Of course.” Amber was definitely amused. Who was this guy, and why was he so invested in entertaining—or tricking—his sister? Whoever he was, he was doing a great job at keeping her distracted from what was happening in plain view right in front of her—Peter and Giles climbing to their certain deaths.

  Harold came wandering over to stand beside Amber, shielding his eyes with his hand as he looked up at the cliff. “What do you say, Amber? Ready to give it a try?”

  “Um, no. As in, not happening.”

  “Oh, come on.” He patted his large stomach. “I’m going, and I’m certainly not an athlete.”

  “There’s a big difference between fear and athleticism,” Amber retorted. “You go right ahead, and I’ll stay here and keep this chair company.”

  He looked over at Wes. “Are we just going to let her get away with that sort of party-pooper attitude?”

  Wes gave him a lazy smile. “We are, actually. I never force anyone out of their comfort zone. Just safer that way.”

  Harold seemed a little put out, but then he nodded. “I can see the wisdom in that.”

  Amber was a little put out herself—Harold had interrupted the perfectly nice conversation she’d been having with Wes.

  “Wait, what’s going on?” Harold asked, pointing at the cliff.

  Amber shielded her eyes as well, but couldn’t see what was bothering him. Wes had gone on alert, his muscles tense. She hadn’t realized she’d been paying so much attention to him that she’d notice the difference in him, but yeah, she had been, and yeah, she noticed.