Page 73 of Tattered and Torn

“They’re fine. Coffee?” He nods to the tin coffee pot on the grill.

“Yes, please. It smells wonderful.”

He reaches for a black-and-white speckled enamel mug and pours a cup. “Everything tastes better outdoors.”

I come out of the tent and join him at the fire. After taking the hot mug from him, I sit on the log and sip the strong concoction. “Mm. Cowboy coffee. If you’ll get the cooler down from the tree, I’ll start on breakfast. Scrambled eggs and bacon. I also brought some bread. We can toast it on the grill and have it with butter and strawberry jam.”

John wipes his hands on his jeans. “I’m on it.”

After breakfast, I wash the dishes in a plastic tub of warm soapy water while John sees to the horses. He moves them to another grassy patch so they can graze and offers them water.

“Any sign of the bobcat this morning?” I ask as I dry our dishes.

“Nope. I think he’s long gone.”

Later in the morning, we hike around the lake again. I stand on top of a fallen log at the water’s edge and watch fish darting amongst the rocks and fallen limbs. We spot three turtles sunbathing on a log half submerged in the water. As we pass by, startled frogs leap into the water, splashing.

We finish off the last of the leftover beef stew for lunch and eat baked potatoes that I wrapped in foil and cooked on the grill.

“Ready to head back?” he asks me as he finishes the last bite of his food.

I frown. “Do we have to?” I’m really enjoying being out here with him, just the two of us.

“Afraid so. I promised Hannah I’d have you back in time for the supper rush this evenin’. But we can come back again, any time you want to. Just say the word.”

I stand to collect his dirty dishes, then lean down to kiss him. “I’ll wash these while you start to pack up.”

Just as he’s putting the rolled-up tent into its bag, we hear loud voices coming from the other side of the lake. Several young male voices from the sound of it, loud and obnoxious.

As John finishes packing up, he keeps an eye on the approaching group of three young men.

“Hey!” one of them yells at us as they get near. “How’s fishing?”

I guess them to be in their early twenties. They’re dressed in jeans, boots, and hoodies. Two of them are wearing University of Colorado Denver hoodies. They’re each carrying a backpack loaded with camping gear.

“Don’t know,” John replies. “We’re not fishing. You guys camping?”

“Yeah,” one of them says. “Camping and climbing. We’ve been out here roughing it for a couple days now.”

“We’re on summer break from school,” another one says. He points at a tall, vertical rock face to the west of the lake, not far from where we’re standing. Probably a hundred yards away. “That looks like a good site,” he says to his friends.

“That’s insane, Kirk,” the third guy says. “You’ve never climbed anything that high.”

“Don’t be such a baby,” the one called Kirk says. “I’m gonna go check it out.”

As the three guys head toward the rock face, John asks, “Are you experienced climbers?”

The trio stops and turns back to John.

“Sure. I climb all the time,” Kirk says. “These guys, not so much. But they’re learning.”

John points toward the rock face. “I happen to know that’s a tough climb.”

Kirk shrugs. “Like I said, I’m experienced.”

“Yeah,” his buddy says. “He climbs at the rec center all the time.”

John shakes his head. “This is no rec center climbing wall, pal. Where’s your gear?”

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