Page 6 of Promises on the Mountain

"We've got a bit of ways to go, so you better keep me distracted on the way by tellin' me this story of yours. Otherwise, I'm likely to have you riding in my lap while I drive."

I'm so nervous about what he's implying that I'm almost relieved to start talking.

Raine

The educational camp that we run for the K through sixth grade students in the county is located on the lower river valley of the fourteen hundred acres that's still in the family from when my great something granddad struck gold in these mountains back in the eighteen hundreds.

Of course, most of our gold was pulled out of the original claim farther up in the mountains. Bill Hart used his fortune to buy up all the land he could get his hands on and then him and his buddies established the town of Hart's Gulch.

Unfortunately for the Hart's, this mountain was already known far and wide for the whiskey running out of a still that was operated by a trio of sisters that had fled the war back east.

Mail addressed to "Hart's Gulch" got dead lettered in the valley post office until someone down there started re-labeling it as "Moonshine Ridge."

That's what got added to the census reports and that's what the town's called to this day.

Hart's Gulch lives on as the name of our family land. The forested acreage where my ancestor built his first home for his bride, where my family has been living and dying for over a century and a half. Where we've all built houses of our own, spread out among the hills and trees now.

"So, you all live on the same land?" April asks, when I point out the private road into the Gulch.

"A lot of the old families do," I tell her. "Just makes sense when there's so much land in one name up here. But we're all spread out, not like the Joneses. Guess we didn't really want to be that close together."

April looks over at me, her hand resting over mine where I've been keeping it on her knee whenever I'm not shifting gears, and I can tell she's about to ask questions I'd rather save for later.

"I want to show you the camp," I go on, changing the subject quickly, "but I don't want to get up to the cabin too late."

"Cabin?"

"Old hunting cabin on Turtle Lake." I squeeze her knee, "Nice and private, zero traffic up there this time of year. Thought it'd be a nice place to hang out and get to know one another."

And fuck yeah, when I say "get to know one another," I've got visions of April's curvy body spread out on the blankets in front of the fire while I get to know every peak and valley of her bare flesh and I don't plan on taking her back to town till I've figured out at least three ways to make her scream my name.

My dick thickens under my zipper again and I think about undoing my fly and having April jack me off while I drive. But something about the way she tenses under my hand tells me she's nervous-- interested, but nervous-- and I wonder how much experience she's had with men before me.

"Tell me about the camp?"

"I guess it got started by my grandparents in the eighties or so. They thought it'd be a good legacy project for the family. We host sixth graders in the warmer parts of the school year for one week sessions as part of the US history and science curriculum. Fourth and fifth graders get to come up for a day trip, and then we run a really popular summer program that's focused on the mining history of the area, but mostly it's just a typical summer camp experience for kids ages six to twelve. Older kids get to come up as counselors-- Gran makes sure no one's left out."

"Sounds wonderful. So that's where you and your brother work?"

A grunt comes out of me, being reminded of Cane. Working up at the camp used to be a lot of fun for me till he took over everything when he got back on the Ridge.

"Gran's getting up in years," I say, "she likes running her little museum down there by you. Cane's good with the business stuff...I'm good at banging things."

I shoot her a grin, liking the way she shivers under my fingers and taking it as a sign that it's okay to move my fingers higher on her thigh. She doesn't protest, so I let my hand linger, even though I'm aching to slip my fingers up between her legs and get her good and bothered while the old truck winds along the mountain road.

"There's enough money in the family to last us for the next several generations," I tell her. "Indefinitely, if we're smart with it. We grew up knowing we didn't need to go out into the world and find our own way.

"Probably didn't do us any good. Doing the construction shit at the camp is good for keeping me from getting too deep in my own head, I guess."

April nods silently, her head turned toward the window as she watches the forest and the meadows pass by outside.

The snow's been patchy this winter, nothing's really been sticking below eight thousand feet, leaving good views of the landscape.

"The cafe is kinda like that for me," she says low. "I like when it's busy, all the people coming and going keep me from thinking too much."

"Yeah, you're supposed to be telling me all about where you came from, what made you think a bunch of bearded assholes need fancy coffee-- and who that was you were talking to on the phone when I came in this afternoon."

April turns back and I see her looking up at me from the corner of my eye. I like the pretty smile on her soft, pink lips-- makes me feel important. Like maybe I could be worth something to somebody after all...worth something to her.

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