Page 40 of Shared By the Mountain Men

I ordered a burrito from the campsite food truck and ate it on my porch with a homemade whiskey and Coke. In all the chaos of falling, and the aftermath, I had forgotten about what had shocked me enough to slip: Ash said he was in prison.

That had to be a joke. Right? But once again, he didn’t seem like the kind of man who joked around. Like, at all.

But if he was telling the truth… then how did he end up there? What crime did he commit?

My imagination ran wild with possibilities all through the next morning. The only thing that stopped me from obsessing over it was getting a text from Noah.

Noah: Hey there, beautiful! Hope I’m not texting too early, but I’m headed to my shift and wanted to say that I hope you have a wonderful day!

Me: It’s 10:00. Do you really think that I would still be sleeping?

Noah: I don’t know your habits! Maybe you’re a night owl.

Me: I went to bed early at your place the other night ;-)

Noah: Those were unusual circumstances. We wore ourselves out.

Me: Yes. Yes we did.

Noah: I’ll be home tomorrow morning. How about another kayaking date, if you’re not busy?

Me: I’ll check my schedule. Hold please.

Me: Checking.

Me: Still checking.

Me: Yep, my schedule is still clear. I have literally nothing to do while my ankle heals.

Noah: Perfect! Maybe I should date immobilized women more often. Not only can you not get away very fast, but you don’t have any excuse when I ask you out :-)

Me: I’ll have you know I can get away very quickly on Ash’s bike.

Noah: True. I guess I’ll have to be polite to you.

Me: How ever will you survive?

I considered asking him if Ash reallyhadbeen in prison for two years, but I held back. I didn’t want to steer the text conversation in that direction. Besides, it would be better to ask him in person so I could gauge his reaction.

When I lowered my phone, I noticed Jack gathering supplies from a storage shed on the back side of the main office. There was a pile of helmets similar to what Ash and I had climbed in yesterday. That intrigued me, so I walked over to snoop.

“Where are you going?” I asked. “Are you doing via ferrata?”

“What? No,” he replied brusquely. “I’m leading the campers in an off-road tour in the hills around Mount Crested Butte.” He pointed toward several four-wheeler ATVs parked nearby.

“And you didn’t think to invite me?” I asked with fake offense.

Jack stared at me, then tapped the bulletin board on the wall of the office. “There are fliers posted everywhere. You could have signed up.”

Oh. I had noticed the fliers listing activities like that around camp, but hadn’t given them more than a passing thought.

“Maybe next time,” I said, and started walking away.

“Wait.”

I turned around. He was stretching out a hand toward me, and quickly lowered it to his side.

“You should come,” Jack said. “If you want, I mean.”

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