Page 2 of Ten Mountain Men

“May I help you?” a sharp voice asks.

I glance up, and it takes me a moment before I see her behind the counter. Not just because there’s so much clutter surrounding her, but because she’s so small her head barely clears the countertop. She studies me with lips tightly pressed together. Even from a distance, I notice the shrewdness in her clear blue eyes and it unsettles me.

“I knocked over this gnome.” I gesture toward it. I swear his creepy-ass smile widens, as if he enjoyed the pain. Masochist little fucker.

“I see that.” The woman marches over, scoops up the gnome, cradling it in her arms for a moment like it’s a baby, glancing at it with clear love. She then sets it back down, upright, patting it on its head.

Okaaaaaaaaaay.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“He’s fine. And the Wilderness Haven Retreat and Lodge”—she makes a face like she’s tasted something bad—“is still three miles further down the road. Just keep going. You can’t miss it.”

She gestures like a crossing guard, pointing with her whole arm.

“The Wilderness Haven Retreat and Lodge?” I repeat.

The name sounds familiar. That might be the place Mother tried to get me to stay.

“I’m camping, Mother,”I’d told her.

“Camping alone is dangerous, Rose-Gold. You could get hurt! You never know what is out there. I implore you not to risk it!”

Thing is, Idoknow what’s out there. Or at leastwhois out there. That’s the whole point. It’sBigfoot, crazy as it sounds. He’s not just a myth, and I’m going to prove it. I’m going to find him.

Again.

Which means roughing it. Just a girl in a tent, in the great outdoors, with camera equipment. On my own. With no hot water. Oranyrunning water, for that matter. Alright, it’s not a pleasant thought, but still…I’m not staying in some great outdoors–adjacent spa.

“Oh, I’m not going there. To the Haven Retreat place.” I shake my head.

Looking me up and down, she says, “My mistake. You seem like the type.”

She definitely does not mean that as a compliment.

“Do you have a restroom I can use? Please?” I ask, desperation in every word.

“It’s for paying customers only.”

“That’s fine! I’ll buy something. I’ll buy the gnome!” I offer, frantic.

“Gnome’s not for sale.”

Good, because holy hell I really don’t want that thing in my car.

“I’ll buy something else. I promise. But can I use the restroom first? I really need to go.” I shift from foot to foot.

She points toward the back.

“If you sprinkle when you tinkle, please be neat and wipe the seat,” she says, without any humor in her voice.

Careful not to knock over anything else, I hustle in the direction she’s indicated.

The bathroom is very clean, which I appreciate, and I tell her so when I return.

“Cleanliness is next to godliness,” she replies.

A woman after my own heart. Yet…she makes her living shilling dust-magnets, and the bathroom is the only thing clean about this place.

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