About halfway up, her foot slips a little, sending a small shower of debris my way.My heart just about stops, but she finds her footing again half a second later and keeps climbing.
“Sorry,” she calls.
“It’s fine,” I call back.
I don’t rememberthisfrom before, this intense, powerful need toprotecther.When she turned her ankle yesterday, I felt like the ground had fallen away from under me, even though she’s pretty much fine now.
It’s a primal, bone-deep drive to keep her safe that I’ve never felt before.Not even with her.
I just hope we don’t run into any aggressive bears on this hike, because I swear to God, I’ll fight a bear for Clementine.I’ll fight two bears, and I’ll lose, because I don’t have claws or teeth.
She gets to the top without slipping again.I follow her, and then we both stand there, staring.
It looks like it could be in aVisit Montana!brochure or something, because it’s picture-perfect.The waterfall isn’t big, especially right now with the drought, but it’s about fifty feet high, falling from a semi-circular outcropping of rock above, overhung with moss and some kind of climbing plant.
In front of us, the basin is the sort of deep, perfect blue you can only see in the middle of nowhere.It’s surrounded by flat gray stones, and the whole place feels perfect, secluded, so totally out of the way that it’s hard to believeweeven found it.
“Damn, Randy,” Clementine breathes.
Then she glances up.The column of smoke is still visible above the trees, and we both examine it for a moment.It hasn’t changed since this morning.If anything, it’s gotten smaller.
That’s good.Usually, around this time of year, fire season is wrapping up.I’m ready for it to end, and to make sleeping in a regular bed and taking regular showers a fixture in my life again.
“Think this is where Randy takesthe ladies?”I ask, walking toward one of the flat gray rocks.
“I think the onlyladyin Randy’s life is Mother Nature,” Clementine says.
“If this is one of his favorite spots, I see why,” I say.
Clementine takes off the hiking fanny pack sheinsistedon wearing instead of a backpack and puts it on a rock.It’s a hot day, in the mid-eighties at least, and we’ve hiked a couple of miles, so there’s a big dark splotch of sweat over her lower back.
I take off my backpack, and even if I can’t see it, I canfeelthe matching sweat spot on my back, so I take my shirt off too and lay it out on a rock.
Then I glance around, just to makesurethere’s no one else around, and take off my pants and boxers too.Barefoot, I gingerly walk over to where Clementine is, just watching the waterfall, and put one hand on her back.
She looks over at me and yelps.
Then she starts laughing, and I raise my eyebrows.
“You see something funny?”I ask.
“Sorry,” she says, gasping.“I wasn’t expecting you to be naked.I’m just surprised.”
“I didn’t exactly bring a swimsuit, so I don’t see what other option we’ve got,” I say, grinning.
“Naked?” she says.“Here?”
“It’s hot as hell out here and I bet that water feelsgood,” I say, dragging one finger down her spine.“Right now, you’re hot and sweaty, but youcouldgo for a quick, refreshing swim.”
Clementine just laughs at me.
“I was teasing,” she says.“You’d be surprised how much time I spend naked in the woods.”
I lift one eyebrow as she shrugs off the button-down shirt she was wearing over a tank top.She tosses it on a rock, then gives me a sly look.
“There’s no one around and it’s hot,” she says, shrugging.“Why not be naked?”
“I wish I’d known that there were hot, naked forest rangers out fixing trails when I was thirteen,” I say.“I’d have donenothingbut hike.”
