Page 52 of Shared By the Mountain Men

I called the number before I could think better of it.

“Crested Butte Mountain Biking, how can I help you?” a cheerful man asked.

“Hi!” I said. “I’m interested in taking lessons, and saw your flier in town. What time are lessons today?”

“That’s great! All lessons are private, so it’s just you and the instructor. All three of our instructors are working today, let me check Kimberly’s schedule…”

“Actually,” I said, “I was wondering if Ash is available? He was recommended to me by a friend.”

“Ash is one of our best instructors. Let me see… he has one lesson right now, but his next free slot starts in an hour.”

“Perfect!” I said. “I’ll do that.”

I rushed home to change into more athletic clothes, then made my way along the road leading up the mountain to the resort. It was only three miles, but it was a very gradual climb that soon had my calves burning with effort. Not wanting to wear myself out before the lesson, I hopped off the bike and walked it the rest of the way uphill.

I checked-in at the office and paid the one-hour fee. “Ash will meet you right outside,” the man said. “He should be finishing up his current lesson soon.”

The back of the shop faced Mount Crested Butte. It was a jagged fingernail of a mountain, with three different ski lifts running up from the base like power lines. But instead of snow and ski runs, the mountain was criss-crossed with mountain biking trails. At least a hundred bikers were currently coming down the mountain or waiting in line at the lift.

I watched the riders for a bit. Some of the paths were steep and fast, but others were flatter and more casual. One path on the left was steeper than most, with a ramp and a jump at the bottom. It was less trafficked than the others, so I took notice when two riders emerged from the trees, flew down the incline, and went soaring up the ramp. Both of them seemed to hang in the air for an impossible amount of time before landing on the other side, then swerved their way down to where all the paths converged at the end.

One of them, the bigger rider covered with tattoos, was obviously Ash.

“Fuckingnice,” he said, removing his helmet and holding out a fist.

The smaller rider removed her helmet and bumped his fist. “Did you see? Did you see?” She looked young, barely in high school.

“Told you you could do it.”

“You were right!” she said with an excited laugh.

He clapped her on the back, and the two of them walked their bikes in my direction. When he saw me, he did a double-take.

Maybe this was a mistake, I thought as his dark eyes bore into mine.

“See you next week!” the girl said, then abruptly threw her arms around him in a big hug. She was about half his size, and Ash seemed surprised by the gesture. Or maybe embarrassed by it since I was watching.

“Tuesday,” Ash agreed, and the girl went running off with her bike. Then he looked at me again.

“Why are you here?” he asked bluntly.

I swallowed the bile crawling up the back of my throat and said, “I’m your next lesson. I want you to show me how to use this.” I held out my bike.Hisbike.

His expression didn’t change. For a few seconds, I wondered if he would say no. He seemed to be considering it like he had a decision to make. A difficult one.

Finally, he leaned his other bike against the wall and went inside without a word. So much for that idea. I guess I’d pushed too hard. And if asking him for bike lessons was too much, then asking about his prison history woulddefinitelybe out of bounds.

I turned my bike around, preparing to get a refund and go home, when Ash emerged from the bike shop. He shoved a helmet at my chest, then hefted another bundle.

“Put this on.”

It was a bunch of mountain biking gear: elbow pads, knee pads, fingerless gloves, and protective glasses. I suddenly felt silly that I hadn’t worn anything. Then again, I didn’thaveanything, and it was my fault for telling the guy behind the desk that I had my own equipment. I’d assumed he just meant the bike.

“How do I look?” I asked when I was decked out in protective gear.

Ashalmostsmiled. Almost. “Good.”

We took the ski lift up, putting our bikes on one special lift car while sitting on another. This lift only went halfway up the mountain, but even that felt super high up. We were well above the resort where we’d started, and the town was even farther below in the valley.

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