Enjoy the View

by Sarah Morgenthaler

  She turned to River. “You take care of my grandson, dear. He’s a good boy, but he doesn’t always listen to reason. The mountain is in his blood, and that kind of love can poison you.”

  “Grandma—” Easton started, but she held up a hand, cutting him off.

  “No, you listen. Both of you. It’s one thing to go up there to see if you can. But it becomes an obsession. Your daddy had the poison, Easton, and you’re getting it too. There’s more to life than how high you can stand on a piece of rock.”

  She turned back to River. “If he takes you up there, you make sure you bring him back down. One of these days, the Old Man’s going to be tired of being beaten. He’s a patient one, more patient than the rest of us.”

  “We’ll take care of each other,” River promised.

  As grandmother and grandson started for the front door, Jessie turned to Bree, who was still fiddling with the handheld. “What do you think? How was the audio?”

  “Great.” Bree glanced over at Ruby Lou. “If I didn’t think it would be too tough on her, I’d ask her to do the voiceover for all of the historical background. She has the soul of a born storyteller.”

  Right as Easton opened the door for her wheelchair, Ruby Lou sat straighter, turning those bright eyes their way. “I’m not so weak as you think. I could still dance circles around everyone here.”

  “The soul of a storyteller and the ears of an elephant.” Easton said. “Grandma, what do you think?”

  “Would I get to go to Hollywood?”

  “Do you want to go to Hollywood, Mrs. Lockett?” Bree asked.

  “I always did want to see that big sign. And put my hand on one of the stars.”

  Jessie looked up from where he was breaking down the equipment. “On the walk of fame?”

  “No, child, one of the stars. Robert Redford, maybe.”

  Easton cringed. “Okay, and that’s my cue to wrap this thing up. Come on, Grandma. Dad just pulled up to give you a ride back home.”

  Easton wheeled his grandmother to the door to a chorus of thank-yous from River’s crew, then disappeared outside.

  Bree looked askance at River. “Wow, you could not stay focused.”

  “It’s Easton’s fault. Did you see him this morning?”

  “That man should wear nothing but jeans and water all the time.” Eyeing her speculatively, Bree said, “When I went to check on you last night, I had the feeling I was walking into something.”

  “Nothing happened. I was…it was the Growly Bear. I drank more than you did.”

  Snickering, Bree shook her head. “Liar.”

  “Or maybe he’s superhot,” River joked. “And I can’t keep from throwing myself at him when everyone’s back is turned.”

  “That sounds a lot more realistic.”

  Growing serious, River started to help take down the equipment. “Listen, it really isn’t anything. Don’t worry. My focus is completely on the film.”

  “Are we ignoring the mountain-sized elephant in the room?” Jessie took the tripod out of River’s hands. He had never trusted her to mess with the gear. “I researched the stats last night. People have to be rescued off Denali all the time, but Mount Veil is something else. Are we sure we’re ready for this?”

  “I’m ready for it.” Rising to her feet, Bree pushed a case at him. “And if you’re going to panic up there, you’d better say something now.”

  “I’m not panicking. I’m saying it’s a scary climb. Climber for climber, the mortality rate for the Old Man—” Jessie stopped, making a face. “He’s got me saying it now. The mortality rate for Mount Veil is the worst in the state. It’s not dangerous. It’s stupid dangerous.”

  “What else can we do? We’re basically banished from town,” River reminded them. “We can’t have a whole movie with Ruby Lou talking to the camera. I’m willing to listen if you have any better ideas, but I’m all out.”

  Silence met her comment. None of them had any better ideas. She didn’t want Jessie to be worried, so she patted him on the shoulder. “We have Easton. He’s been up there plenty of times.”

  “Do you think he’s as good as the online reviews say?”

  River looked through the window where the mountaineer in question was helping his grandmother into the back seat of a car. Looking good in jeans and a towel was nice, but what she needed from him was a lot more important. Her career depended on it.

  “I sure hope so.”

  • • •

  As she waited for her crew to pack up, River headed out to the porch, taking in the homestead.

  The word didn’t accurately describe how immaculate the grounds were, with every stack of firewood and piece of equipment carefully organized and set in its designated space. Next to an old but meticulously maintained hay shed was a small horse paddock. Behind it was a modest livestock barn with a low-hanging metal roof. Nothing like the thirty-stall stables back at the ranch, but the three animals grazing in the paddock were as close to home as River had been in a long time.

  Too long.

  Since no one seemed to be needing her, River slipped off the porch and across the drive. Of the three horses searching through the dirt for the last remaining bits of hay, a gray gelding was feeling friendlier than the others, coming over to say hello.

  “Hey there, handsome.” Scratching the gelding beneath the chin earned him leaning into the fence, looking for more.

  “He likes you.”

  The man was quiet for having so much weight on those two feet. When Easton joined her at the fence, leaning on his elbows, it occurred to River that the top of her head barely came to his shoulder. She wasn’t used to feeling short around anyone and certainly not around someone who had an annoying ability to not let her take charge of things.

  “Your grandmother is incredible,” River told him.

  He nodded in agreement. “Yep. You wouldn’t believe how good her pot roast is.”

  River glanced over at the house where Bree and Jessie were in deep discussion on the porch. “Easton, thank you again. This is going to be amazing footage. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

  He was quiet for long enough, River wasn’t sure he was going to answer. Finally, he spoke, his voice pitched quiet. “When you live in a place like this, you get a lot of strangers showing up, putting their handprints on everything. Family is one thing you don’t let anyone put their hands on.”

  “When you have a daughter, she’s never going to get a date, is she?”

  “Probably not.” Resting a loose fist on the porch railing, Easton added fondly, “Grandma says she’s going to tell everyone about the documentary and have the whole nursing home watch it when it comes out.” Warm brown eyes found hers. “Be kind to her when you edit it. This means more than you realize.”

  “I will.”

  Overly aware of his arm near hers, the gum he was chewing, and the light tapping of his thumb against the wood rail, River forced her focus on the short red gelding who’d joined his pasture mate, curious to see what was happening.

  “He’s gorgeous.” Stroking his mane, River watched the two geldings eyeing each other.

  “That’s Sonny. He’s pretty, but he’s a troublemaker.” Easton reached over to scratch beneath the gray’s chin, like River had. “Chance is more my style. He’s friendly and smart and would rather hang out with you than get one over on you.”

  Nodding toward the palomino mare in the corner, River asked, “How about her?”

  “Old Skip?” Affection filled Easton’s voice. “She still runs these two boys ragged. But we’ve retired her. Unless my cousins come over and want to ride, she gets a free pass. She’s earned it. Dad took her all over these hills, then Ash all but rode the feet off her.” Easton glanced at her. “Do you ride?”

  Once, River had spent every day on a horse. Now, the only horsepower in her life was t
he car she drove on LA highways. Ten years, and she still hadn’t gotten used to the loss of these animals in her life.

  “I haven’t in a while,” River admitted. “But I used to live in a saddle.”

  After a moment’s pause, Easton asked quietly, “Do you want to ride with me?”

  There was something in the way he said it that sent a thrill of anticipation up her spine. When she was fifteen, she remembered one of the handsome young ranch hands riding up to her older sister, holding the reins of a second saddled horse jogging along with his own. That soft question of “Do you want to ride with me?” had left her beyond jealous of her sister.

  Tall, gangly, and fiercely independent, River was the first one the boys picked to rope with them, to brand cattle with them, and to ride broncs with them. But no one—boy or man—had ever asked her to ride with him. Not the way Easton was asking her.

  They weren’t even on the mountain yet, and River could already tell this was going to be a problem.

  “Yeah.” Feeling abnormally shy, she nodded. “I’d like that.”

  Easton pushed off the fence. “I’ll get them ready.”

  When River informed her crew she wouldn’t be accompanying them back to Easton’s place to go over the footage, Jessie looked skeptical and murmured something about Easton murdering her in the woods. Bree’s eyes brightened.

  “Can I follow and film it?” she asked.

  Jessie snorted. “The murder or the sexy stuff right beforehand?”

  “There’s not going to be either,” River told him, knowing she should say yes to the filming. But really, this time, she kind of wanted to say no.

  “We have to go through this footage,” Jessie decided. He pressed the handheld at her. “Here. Get everything you can.”

  River shook her head. “I’m only going for a ride. This doesn’t have anything to do with the movie.”

  “The documentary.” Enunciating the word, Jessie rolled his eyes at her. “First rule of a documentary: you document.”

  “Fine.” River accepted the camera. “But if I drop it, that’s on you.”

  “If you drop it, the bill’s on you.”

  When River returned to the paddock, Easton had pulled two saddles out of wherever they stored their tack, with worn leather bridles hanging ready on a nearby fence post. Chance, the handsome gray, was already saddled, and the second saddle was sitting on the fence rail next to the aging palomino.

  “You’re putting me on Skip?”

  “She’s a good horse,” Easton said. “Heck of an endurance mare back in her day.”

  “I’d like to ride Sonny.” When Easton hesitated, River patted his arm. “Don’t worry. I can ride anything that moves.”

  With a shrug, Easton did as she asked, saddling up the little bay instead. He looked even more handsome with his tack on, but River was an experienced enough hand to know a gleam in a horse’s eye when she saw it.

  Easton frowned at the horse. “You might want to let me lunge him out a few circles before we go.”

  “Nope, we’re good.”

  And they were. At least they were for the first two steps around the yard while Sonny decided what he wanted to do about her being on his back.

  “Don’t even think about it, buster,” River warned him.

  Sonny snorted, decision made.

  Boy, that guy could buck. There was no viciousness to his antics, more feeling his oats than anything particularly dangerous, and River was laughing breathlessly by the time the horse came to a stop.

  “Are you all done?” she asked him. Sonny snorted again, stamping a rear hoof. Twisting around to grin at Easton, River called over, “I think that means he’s done.”

  Standing there, Chance’s reins in his hand, Easton stared at her.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” Easton shook his head. “Just never seen anyone enjoy a horse trying to pitch them off.”

  “I like him. There’s nothing wrong with a little spunk.”

  River wasn’t certain, but she could have sworn she heard Easton murmur something about redheads.

  Once Sonny got all the extra energy out of his system, Easton swung up into the saddle and turned his far more laid-back mount toward a trailhead on the far side of the homestead. River squeezed her knees, encouraging Sonny to lengthen his stride and catch up with the pair. She expected the overcorrect as her mount happily broke into a faster gait.

  “We’re going this way,” she told Easton as they trotted past, laughing at her gelding’s enthusiasm.

  Leaning forward, Easton and Chance lunged ahead as if River and Sonny were standing still.

  “Are you going to let them do that to you?” River asked as Sonny’s hindquarters skated to the right, his energy uncontainable.

  The second she loosened the reins, her gelding was off like a shot. The pounding of hooves, real grass beneath her…how long had it been since the wind whistled through her ears until all she could hear was her horse’s snorts and her own racing heart? Sonny was a speedster, but Chance wasn’t a slowpoke by any means. By the time they caught up, the gray’s stride had lengthened out.

  For several breathless seconds, the pair ran side by side until Easton signaled her to slow up. Rougher ground ahead would have been bad to race over, although River was surprised he’d indulged the run at all. Easton angled his gelding over, riding so close their stirrups bumped.

  “You can ride.” He sounded impressed.

  River patted Sonny’s neck. “Back home, they put you up on a horse before you can even walk.”

  “How’d you end up…you know.”

  “Acting?” She shrugged. “Same old story we’ve all heard a thousand times. Rancher’s daughter wants more than the country life and leaves home. Stuffs all her things in an old car, drives to Hollywood, and tries to make it big.”

  “Did you?” he asked.

  River winked at him. “You’ve never heard of me, so I must not have.”

  Easton shot her an amused look.

  “It took me a couple of years. I worked as an extra on set during the day, took acting classes and waited tables at night, and kept showing up for auditions. Then I got my break. Ten years, six movies, and one really bad miniseries later, I’ve finally improved in my craft enough to handle the parts I couldn’t handle eight years ago. Only no one wants to give them to an actress turning thirty. So here I am, about to climb Mount Veil to start all over again on the production side.”

  His expression was one of disbelief and confusion. “I can’t image aging out of a career that young.”

  “Trust me, I never imagined it either.”

  They turned a corner, and River’s breath caught. Easton stopped, letting the reins lie loose on Chance’s neck.

  In front of them, miles to the north, a pinnacle of rock and snow jutted into the sky. The numerous other mountains in the Chugach range had obscured the bulk of this peak from view, but from where they stood, on a rocky outcropping, they had an almost unfettered view of the mountain.

  It rose so high above them, River had to crane her head back to take it all in. “That’s Mount Veil?”

  “That’s Mount Veil.”

  “Why do they call it that?”

  “You’ll see when we get up there.” Easton glanced at her, watching River up at their destination. “You ready? It’s not too late to change mountains.”

  “Are you trying to talk me out of going?”

  “If I can talk you out of going, you shouldn’t be going in the first place.”

  River looked over at him. There was a looseness in Easton’s shoulders, a calmness in his face as he gazed up at the mountain. She’d seen a man in love before. A hundred dollars down, she’d be willing to bet the love of Easton Lockett’s life was the majestic peak rising in front of them.

  “I’ve climbed a lot, bu
t Veil…there’s something about it. When you get up there, it’s like the rest of the world disappears. No one’s looking at you, expecting anything. It’s you and the mountain range. No one and nothing else matters. There’s not a lot of oxygen at that elevation, but when I’m up there, I can finally breathe. I can be who I really am. I’m not…”

  “Trapped.”

  Their eyes met, and River couldn’t help the shiver that rolled through her. Her horse shifted beneath her in response to the tightening of her limbs.

  “Are we doing this?” Easton asked quietly.

  Four words that shouldn’t have felt so loaded lay between them. Then she reached out her hand, trusting without even looking that he’d take it in his own. Lifting her eyes to Mount Veil, River squeezed Easton’s fingers. If there was freedom at the peak, there was no stopping her. She’d been trapped her whole life too.

  “When do we leave?”

  • • •

  Easton was a man of routine. And when it came to saying goodbye to his friends and family before an expedition, he always did so the same way: a game of pool at Rick’s place with Graham after the Tourist Trap closed. Dropping by the house afterward to see Ash.

  That was it. Anything else would be making too big of a deal about it all.

  These days, where Graham went, Zoey was dragged along. So Easton appreciated it when Graham came alone, the time-honored tradition of a beer and a game standing strong. And if Graham gave him a hug and an admonishment to be careful before hustling out the door to be with Zoey, that was fine too.

  When he left Rick’s and drove to his family’s home, Easton made sure to take his time, to appreciate this town he loved so much. Roads he knew by memory because they were the same roads he’d traveled every day of his life. The same gravel lane leading to the same house.

  The same people who’d been there from day one.

  Ash was an exercise junkie, focused on putting only the best things inside her body. So it always struck him as wrong when he found her out on the front porch with a cigarette in her mouth. His twin only smoked when she was worried or when she was sad. Lately, she’d been trying to hide it from him, but she was his twin. He always knew.