Page 4 of The Maverick of the Mountain
Marge huffs, hands on her hips again. “Of course it is.”
I swallow, risking a glance at Jade, who slowly shakes her head side-to-side. I’m not sure if that means she’s staying out of this one or if she agrees with me.
“Well,” I mutter, running my fingers along the map. “Thank you both for all your help and advice.”
My mug of tea starts rattling, and I glance at Jade. She smiles, nodding to Maverick and his daughter as they walk toward the door.
“Never seen a mountain man before?”
I shake my head. “Never.”
“Well, they’re mostly harmless.”
I consider pushing her, but decide not to, glancing back at the map. I’m sure there’s probably a warning about mountain men here somewhere.
Keep your distance. Do not, under any circumstances, approach. If one approaches you,do notlook him in the eyes lest he take a liking to you and decide you’re his. But if you’re into that kind of thing…
A shiver races through my body. I think Imightbe, but I’m not entirely sure. I’m not exactly experienced, tending to keep to my comfort zone, which is why I’ve been making a concerted effort to leave my comfort zone. Hence, this multi-day detox and excursion into the mountains.
And the temporary tattoo on my wrist:You Only Live Once. I still haven’t drummed up the courage to tattoo my body, so I’ve settled for a pack of motivational tattoos I bought off Etsy for a few bucks.
“I’ve got one last thing for you,” Marge says before reaching behind her and then setting a small paper bag in front of me. “A parting gift.”
I glance at it. “What is it?”
She makes a show of reaching into the paper bag, tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth. Finally, she sets the first object down. “Bear mace. Keep it strapped to your person at all times.”
“Okay, will I?—“
“Bear whistle,” she interrupts, slamming it down on the table. Unfortunately, it shatters. “Don’t make them like theyused to, but don’t worry, I always keep a spare.” She reaches into her apron and then slides a more stout whistle in front of me. I’m not sure why Marge carries a bear whistle on her, but I don’t want to ask.
“And most importantly,” Marge says, reaching back into the bag.
I’m half afraid she’s going to whip out one of those crazy, jagged knives the size of my forearm, but instead, I’m pleasantly surprised but also confused when she places a donut in front of me.
“A bear claw.”
“Am I supposed to chuck it at a bear if I come across one?”
“Oh god, no. That’s for you. And these are for the chipmunks.” Marge taps the bear mace. “Don’t let their chubby, chittering cheeks fool you. They’re vicious little things, and they roam in packs. No quarter. No prisoners,” she mutters as her eyes go a little hazy.
I glance back at Jade, and she nods her head solemnly. “They’re a different breed here, that’s for sure. It took me a while to get used to them, but Marge is right. I carry a pack of trail mix as a peace offering. I don’t even open the bag. Just toss it and run because they’ll shred it themselves. They don’t usually catch me before I get back to my car.” She pauses for a brief moment. “Usually.”
That’s totally reassuring.
“Bear mace. Pain and suffering. It’s the only language those little—Oh, hello Millie!” Marge shifts into a saccharine tone as she kneels down to greet a kid. She’s holding a couple of painted rocks—a bright green one that resembles a frog and a rainbow one with a horn and bristles attached to it.
“I brought something for you,” she says.
“And I know just that place for it,” Marge says, placing her hand on her back and guiding her away.
I watch as Marge takes the rocks, inspects them, and then places them on a wooden crate, overstuffed with other knick-knacks and attached to the wall.
The decor is beginning to make a little more sense, and I’m becoming rather fond of it. This place has a little bit of everyone from Whispering Winds in it. Marge takes the little girl to the counter, where she receives a slice of cake the size of her face as her payment.
Jade slides onto the chair in front of me, placing Marge’s arsenal back into the bag. “You might want to wait until tomorrow. I know it’s cleared up, but we’re supposed to get another storm soon. I’ve been stuck on the mountain in a rainstorm, and it’s not pleasant.”
I rub my tattoo. “I only have a few free days, and I’d like to spend as much of them as I can taking in the sights.”
