by Louise Lynn
Colton smiled softly, and he pulled her into a quick and fleeting hug. "I'll miss you. If you get a chance, give me a call, okay?"
Hazel nodded. "Sure thing. See you in a week," she said, and leaned up to give him another kiss.
Colton placed his hands on either side of her face gently and returned it.
Hazel felt the female hunter’s eyes on her as he did, and another flush rose to her cheeks.
She felt like she was the one in the cross-hairs of a hunter’s rifle, and a chill ran up her spine.
Chapter 2
Their father, Edgar Hart, was waiting for them outside when Hazel pulled up.
Loading their father’s luggage required a slight rearrangement of the bags in the back of Hazel's truck for all of his camera equipment and the canvas tent he insisted on using every time they went camping, even though Hazel had a perfectly good nylon one that was both larger and easier to set up.
Once everything was packed, they said their goodbyes to their mother, who loaded them down with a few extra bags of cleansing herbs in case spirits invaded their campsite. Hazel rolled her eyes, and they headed away from the shining jewel of Lake Celeste and toward a deeper part of the northern Sierras.
The campground they were headed to was one of the most out of the way they could reach by driving. Hence the reason Hazel took her truck and not Esther’s SUV. It was halfway up Mount Rose, and their father chatted with Ruth in the backseat about the history of the area, the same way he used to do with Hazel and Esther when they were young. Though, Hazel figured she'd absorbed more of it than Esther ever had.
Then, instead of taking the road to the top of Mount Rose and down the other side, Hazel pulled on to a side road. The only sign that noted their destination was a brown National Forest sign with a picture of a tent on it and an arrow pointed in that direction.
“Where are we going?" Esther said and looked around.
"To the campground. And you're lucky that this road is paved," Hazel said with a grin. She enjoyed the look of momentary fear on her sister's face, and the chuckle their father made from the backseat.
That road was hardly wide enough for two vehicles, and thankfully they didn't meet any other on their drive in. It wound between an ever thickening forest next to a number of smaller valleys.
It took over an hour to arrive at their actual destination once they'd turned, and the only signs of life in the area was a squat country store a good half hour from the campground.
A small ranger cabin sat in front of the campground. It was a deep brown, and looked like it only consisted of one or two rooms. The ranger’s transportation wasn't present, and the campground itself seemed almost entirely deserted besides a single tent at the far end.
"Best-kept secret in the Sierras, right, Hazy?" their father said and grinned an oversized grin, one that Hazel remembered from when she was a girl. His cheeks were bristly with his beard, and he’d dressed in his camping finery, which consisted of an old T-shirt and a pair of jeans.
Hazel herself had gone for leggings and a loose tunic with tennis shoes, and Esther had opted for the same. It looked like Esther had spent a good deal of time talking Ruth out of wearing one of her tutus on a camping trip, because the girl was actually wearing shorts instead.
It took longer than necessary to choose their campsite because their father had to stop by each one and walk the perimeter to make sure it was perfect. Hazel was used to this process, but she found Esther rolling her eyes more often than not. Especially since several of the sites were nestled back in the trees, and required one to hike into them.
"This is it," their father finally announced.
"You could've chosen this one first off,” Esther said and returned to Hazel's truck.
The campsite he’d chosen was, in Hazel's opinion, the best one. It was tucked into the trees to give it plenty of privacy, but still close to the bathroom, and it had access to the creek that ran behind it. It was late in July, so the creek was shallow and slow enough to swim in. Not to mention the number of rocks that blocked the flow, creating a nice sized pool that was a good three feet deep in the middle. Perfect for Ruth, and Hazel herself wouldn't mind taking a dip on a hot afternoon.
She could tell by the glint in her father's eyes that he wanted to go for a hike and take photos right away, but Hazel also knew that was a terrible idea. Plus, Esther was already unpacking the tents.
"I don't know why you bother with this thing. It's a hundred years old," Esther cried when she pulled out the canvas bag.
Her father took it from her and shook his head. "More like seventy-five. And it works. You know Teddy Roosevelt used tents like this. If it was good enough for a president, it's good enough for me."
Esther pursed her lips, and Hazel knew she wanted to say something, so she put another bag in Esther's hands and ushered her under the shade of a mature cedar tree. "We can set your tent up right here. How's that? It’ll have good shade all day."
Ruth had Anthony Ray by his leash, and they’d headed down to check out the creek. That gave the adults time to set up without Ruth getting in the way, which she would normally do by dancing or performing cartwheels.
"Don't jump in that water, you understand?" Esther cried.
Ruth let out an audible sigh. "I'm not stupid, mom."
Hazel giggled. "You have been drilling into her head pretty much since birth that she's not to go swimming unless someone is watching."
Esther shrugged, and Hazel knew where that fear came from. Growing up on Lake Celeste, they’d heard of drownings often enough to want to avoid it.
Esther and Ruth's tent was easy enough to erect, and Esther took over putting all of their things inside. Hazel moved on to set up her own tent, which was smaller since it was for her and Anthony Ray alone, but it popped up easily. The hardest part was driving the stakes into the ground, and for a moment, she wished Sheriff Cross were there for his easy strength.
They were both finished before their father had gotten his canvas laid out and the various tent poles sorted. "I don't quite remember how this fits together," he admitted sheepishly when Hazel approached him.
Hazel smiled at her father and patted his back. "We brought an extra tent, just in case."
He laughed but shook his head. "No. I brought it, and I'm going to figure out how to put it together. Do you think Ruth would help me?"
Hazel had an idea that the reason her father brought the old tent wasn't just because he was married to the tradition of it, but it also had something to do with getting his granddaughter to help put it together. She remembered doing the same thing when she was a girl and smiled warmly.
They called Ruth over, and Hazel took Anthony Ray while her niece and father started putting the tent together.
She took that moment to set up their chairs and a little canopy to keep the sun off over the picnic table, and she heard her father miraculously remembering the instructions for setting up his canvas tent.
"He did that on purpose," Esther said and shook her head. “He never asked me to set something up with him.”
Hazel felt a jolt of guilt. "You can go help him now, if you want. I'm sure he wouldn't say no."
Esther shook her head. "No, I’ll start fixing lunch. And, they need their bonding time. He really does love Ruth," she said, almost to herself.
Hazel gave her sister a quick hug. "He loves you too, you know."
Esther shrugged and went to work.
Hazel knew better than to bother her sister when she was preparing food. She decided to get a bit of her photography equipment unpacked when the ranger’s Jeep pulled up to their campsite.
A woman climbed out, probably ten years older than Hazel herself, who was thirty-five. The ranger’s weather worn face scanned their camp. She looked exactly as Hazel imagined a ranger would look, with dirt brown hair pulled into a braid and keen brown eyes. She had a sturdy build that looked perfect for working long hours in the forest.
"You're some of the only folks here
this week," the ranger said and stepped up to Hazel.
"We have reservations, and the sign on the boards said we could pick any spot not occupied."
The ranger nodded. She didn't introduce herself, but her badge said J. Albright. "Yep, and it looks like you got the best one in the campground. Just wanted to warn you about the trouble we've been having with bears and mountain lions up here. Keep all your scented items, food, soap, and that sort of thing, in the bear box," Ranger Albright said and pointed at a metal box in the corner of the campground. It was large enough to fit their coolers and other items.
Hazel nodded. Her gut tightened as Anthony Ray peeked from behind her legs. "Does that include him?"
The ranger laughed. "No. Pets are fine. And, lucky you, bears don't have anything against cats. But they hate dogs. I think you'll be okay. Just be careful on the trails. There's been a mother mountain lion and her cubs spotted several times, and you know how mamas are with their babies.”
Hazel was torn between a jolt of worry and one of elation. She would love to get a picture of a mother mountain lion and her cubs. Not only would it make a perfect postcard for her to sell in her shop, but the idea of seeing them in the wild always warmed her heart. However, she also recognized it was dangerous, like Celia pointed out relentlessly.
"They haven't attacked anyone this year, right?” she asked.
The woman shook her head. "No. Once the snow melted spring was wet enough that the deer population is booming. There's plenty of food for the bears and mountain lions, which is probably why there are so many of both," the woman said and shook her head.
Hazel thought that was probably a good thing, so she couldn't see why a frown pulled at the ranger’s lips.
"Anything else?" Hazel asked since the ranger was still hanging around.
Ranger Albright glanced at the other tent, the camper had not yet returned, and her voice dropped. "Yeah, there's been some protests here lately. So if anything gets out of hand, let me know."
Hazel blinked. "Protests? What kind?"
Ranger Albright didn't tear her eyes away from the other tent. "I'm not sure. Just some sort of hippie dippy thing about protecting the forest and the animals, as if that's not what we’re here for.”
Hazel wasn't sure what to say to that, so she gave the woman a polite smile and the ranger turned to leave.
She went back to unpacking her equipment, and Anthony Ray’s ears perked.
Hazel heard the rumble of the engine and smelled the diesel before she saw the ridiculously raised truck. She wondered why they bothered to bring it when they had two perfectly good motorcycles in the back.
Anthony Ray let out a low growl as the group of hunters pulled to a stop at the camping spot catty-corner to theirs.
“It looks like we have neighbors,” Hazel muttered to her cat.
A pair of unruly hounds barked from inside the truck, and Anthony Ray’s tail fizzed at the sound. Thankfully, they didn’t bound out and try to attack her cat. They’d have been greeted with a face full of angry claws, if they had.
“What have we here? Weren’t you in the cafe this morning making sweet with that small town sheriff?” the tallest hunter said when he noticed Hazel.
She wished her cheeks didn’t flush, but it was the curse of being a redhead. “Yeah.”
The man’s teeth were the yellow of a longtime smoker, and he showed them off with pride. “Looks like we’d better behave or you’ll sick your boy-toy on us,” he said and laughed.
The young woman gave Hazel a nasty smile, and the shorter man avoided her gaze completely.
She was going to turn away and ignore them when her father approached.
“More campers?” he said and wiped his dusty hands on his jeans.
“Yeah. Let’s hope they choose a hike-in site,” she said under her breath.
Her father’s eyes narrowed, then, slowly widened. “I swear I know that man.”
Hazel wrinkled her nose. “Which one?”
Her father’s expression turned to a mix of horror and barely contained anger. “I do. I know him. And I need to have some words with him.”
“What?” Hazel said and tightened her hold on Anthony Ray’s leash. “Who is he?”
“The meanest, vilest, most corrupt sort of man you could ever meet. And, on top of all that, he’s a dentist.” Her father marched over to the oversized truck and the man, the dentist, glanced in his direction.
“Edgar Hart? Ha! I never thought I’d see your lily-white face again!” the hunter cried with a great huff of laughter.
Her father’s cheeks turned crimson, and he balled his hands at his sides. “Cliff Crawford, I told you the next time I laid eyes on you, you were a dead man. And I meant it!”
Then Edgar Hart swung his fist.
Chapter 3
“Dad!” Hazel cried.
“What is going on?” Esther said, joining Hazel’s cry.
Ruth chose that moment to charge over as well. “Aw, grandpa missed! Aim for his knees!” the eight-year-old called, and Hazel wondered what sort of things Ruth watched to learn that. Esther probably didn’t know either, but it was most likely their mother’s fault.
“Ruth!” Esther said and snatched the back of the girl’s shirt. She looked ready to join the fray, though, there wasn’t much going on besides their father catching his balance.
The hunter, Cliff Crawford, had sidestepped Edgar’s punch—thankfully—and Hazel charged to get between them.
"What has gotten into you?” she said and grabbed her father's hand before he could swing at the man again.
Her father trembled under her hold, and his face was so red it looked ready to catch fire. "Don't worry, Hazy. I got it out of my system for now."
Cliff Crawford laughed again. "Oh did you? You should’ve known that you don't have it in you, Edgar. You probably couldn't even step on an ant, let alone kill a man," he said.
The shorter hunter was glancing between them with wide eyes. “Are you okay, Mr. Crawford?" he asked breathlessly.
The young woman narrowed her eyes at Hazel. "Pretty pathetic you have to run to your daddy's rescue. He can't even take care of himself. What kind of a man is he? Let's hope that hot sheriff isn't going to get trapped by your disgraceful family," she said and shook her head. Her sheet of dark brown hair flew over her shoulder, and some of it landed in her mouth.
Hazel bit back the urge to laugh as the young woman spit out a mouthful of her own hair. "Okay, I really don't know what this is about, but my father obviously apologizes, and we’re going back to our campsite. And for what it's worth, being a man has nothing to do with fighting or killing things.”
As they were leaving, her father turned. "She's right. Being a man is about being just. You’re a vile, unjust man, Mr. Crawford," he spat.
The young woman made a pa-shaw sound, and Cliff Crawford said something insulting to both of them.
The shorter hunter frowned.
Hazel draped an arm around her father’s shoulder and led him to their camp. She sat him down at the picnic table, and his shoulders trembled under her hands.
Esther loomed above them both, madly tapping her foot, hands on hips and face pinched into a dangerous scowl. "Are you going to explain yourself? First of all, fighting in front of Ruth, and in general, is a terrible idea for someone your age. For anyone, actually. Second, who's teaching my daughter to fight?"
"Esther, maybe now isn’t the time?" Hazel said with her rarely utilized big sister voice.
Esther gave her that mom look, but sighed. "Fine. I still want an explanation. And Ruth? Kick him in the knees? Who taught you that?"
Ruth shrugged and gave her mother a secret smile. "I promised not to tell. Because she said she’d get in trouble if you found out."
If possible, Esther's expression grew even more dangerous. “"Oh, that gives me an idea. Was it grandma?"
Hazel's eyes widened, and she looked at her niece. "Was it?"
Ruth gave them both a noncommittal shrug
and did a little twirl. "I promised not to tell. I pinkie swore, and now you're asking me to betray my pinky swear partner? That's not fair,” she said with a pout.
"She's good,” their dad said, and his trembling seemed to have subsided for the moment. His cheeks weren’t as red, but his beard bristled as he let out a heavy sigh. "I'm really sorry you girls had to see that. And you Ruth, don't ever attack someone like grandpa did. It's a bad idea."
Ruth nodded. "Yeah, especially when he's way bigger than you, and you didn't aim for the knees, like grandma said. Oops!”
"I knew it," Esther said and pointed at their father. "You're letting mom teach my daughter how to fight?"
Anthony Ray stood at the edge of their campsite, as far as his leash would allow, watching the group of hunters unpack and make their way to their camp. Thankfully, they’d chosen one that involved a hike into the woods, and they were out of sight from Hazel's camp. But she couldn't wait for them to be far enough away that her father would explain what he had been thinking.
"I think that's the least of our worries right now," Hazel said, but Esther didn't seem to hear her.
The young woman released the hounds from the cab of the truck, and they came bounding toward Anthony Ray.
Hazel got up to interfere, if need be, but Anthony Ray stood his ground. Once the dogs reached him, one of them barked, and the other yelped. Hazel wasn't sure if Anthony Ray even lifted a paw or not, but soon enough, both dogs whimpered and laid on their bellies, looking up at him with imploring eyes.
Anthony Ray sniffed both their noses.
"What have you done to Dixie and Rock?" the young woman snarled.
Hazel raised an eyebrow. "I haven't done anything. They seem like good dogs." She kept the rest of the statement to herself. She wanted to add: ‘which is surprising since they live with you.’
The young woman gave their leashes a sharp tug to pull them away from Anthony Ray, and muttered under her breath about giving them up if they didn't do their job this week.