Page 4 of Making a Mountain Man

I opened the notes app on my phone. “How do you know Wesley, Mrs. um-”

“Agnes, my name is Agnes, and Wesley fixes things at the seniors center.”

“Has he ever mentioned what brought him to Springwood?”

She frowned, her bright pink lipstick highlighting the downturn of her mouth. “Oh no, you don’t, young lady. I will not be pulled into gossip about that sweet man. I know you write for the paper. I’ll see to it myself that you don’t get enough information to write a sentence, let alone a whole story. That Wesley has been through enough thanks to people like you making a mountain out of a molehill.”

Or a mountain man out of a molehill.

She turned up her nose and strutted away.

Charlotte and I looked at each other then burst out laughing. “I think you were just threatened by the senior citizen mafia.”

“Well, if I go missing, you know what happened. I guess I should get going before I get into any more trouble.” I waved goodbye to Charlotte and headed out. This story might be harder to put together than I thought.

Note: W has a fan club

Question: How and why?

The next day, I hit the ground running. I had tried to research him the night before, but couldn’t find him on social media. I did know from my encounter with Agnes that he worked at the seniors center and clearly they liked him. That gave me a few ideas of where to ask around about him.

My first stop was the library.

As a journalist, I spent a lot of time here. Sometimes for research and sometimes just for a place to write. I recognized the librarian at the front counter, so I beelined for her. “Hi, Joy.”

She gave me a genuine smile. We made small talk for a few minutes before I posed my question. “Do you happen to know a guy named Wesley? He’s a construction worker I think. Might come in here with Agnes?”

Joy rolled her lips under, her cheeks bloomed red. “No, nope, no, no, no. No one by that name. I mean, what kind of name is Wesley anyway? Is there also an Eastley and a Northly?” She forced out a fake laugh.

My brow dropped. “Agnes told you not to talk to me, huh?”

She tapped the side of her nose, before turning back to stamping books.

I spent the next few hours going all over Springwood, popping into Ruby’s diner, the hardware store, the gas station, Warrior Club gym, anywhere I thought Wesley might go. Everyone I talked to either had no idea who Wesley was, or had already been silenced by Agnes. The menace in pink lipstick.

Finally, I admitted defeat. My deadline for this story was loose but I did need to get words on a page sooner or later. I had exhausted every resource I had.

If I wanted to get to Wesley, I would have to go around Agnes and straight to the man himself.

Note: The senior citizen mafia was more powerful than anticipated.

Chapter 4

Wesley

My least favorite part of home maintenance had to be working on the roof. I had patched it up when I’d moved in, but didn’t want to risk it for another year. My cabin was under the shade of towering pine trees, but even so, sweat dripped between my shoulder blades as I moved around my roof laying shingles.

I pulled my shirt over my head and tucked it into my back pocket. The work boots and safety gear were necessary, but the shirt I could live without. By the time I’d finished the job, the sun was directly overhead and sweat had soaked through the waistband of my jeans.

“I should have done this job in March,” I muttered as I grabbed the last of my tools and started to descend the ladder. The sound of an engine caught my attention. Strawberry Hill wasn’t a place that got drive-by traffic. There was a lot of recreation in the area, hiking, hunting, cross country skiing depending on theseason. But that was in a different area of the mountain. To get to my cabin, a person either intended to get there or their GPS was busted.

I wandered around to the front of my cabin and watched a small dark blue SUV pull up in front of my porch and shut off its engine. A long leg in a strappy sandal stepped into the dust next to the car. I wiped a bead of sweat from my brow.

A woman exited the car and hesitated for a moment before slamming the door. She was tall and slim, with her straight, auburn hair cut into a blunt bob. She was wearing a business casual looking blouse and capri pants. What the hell she was doing out here in the middle of nowhere was beyond me.

She stepped forward with a confident stride, dry sticks and pine needles crunching under her feet. She looked vaguely familiar but still my shoulders tensed.

I pulled my hat lower over my brow.

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