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“This is basic field equipment,” I said, adjusting the strap digging into my shoulder.
Barrett looked over the collection of equipment, then slowly lifted his gaze to me. “You moving in?”
“This is basic field equipment,” I said, adjusting the strap digging into my shoulder.
He took another bite of his sandwich and chewed while considering that. “You brought less yesterday.”
“Yesterday was reconnaissance.”
“Yesterday was trespassing,” he corrected.
I sighed. “We’ve covered this.”
“Not sure you learned anything from it.”
“I learned the plants are touchy.”
Barrett gave me a long look as he swallowed the last bite, then crumpled the wrapper and tucked it into a paper bag in the truck. “That’s what you learned?”
“It was one of several valuable observations.”
His gaze dropped to my boots. “Laces tied?”
I glanced down automatically. Both were secure. When I looked back up, he was already reaching into the truck bed for his pack.
“Were you checking my bootlaces yesterday?”
“One was undone.”
“You noticed that?”
“You nearly tripped over it twice.” He slung the pack over one shoulder and shut the tailgate.
I hadn’t noticed. Apparently, Barrett had. The realization left an unexpected little warmth behind my ribs, which was ridiculous. He’d noticed a loose bootlace, not written poetry.
Barrett nodded toward the trail. “Ready?”
I hitched my field bag higher. “I’ve been ready since six.”
“Good thing we waited until seven, then.”
He started toward the trees before I could answer, and I hurried after him.
“What are you looking for today?” he asked.
I hesitated before answering. The obvious response was Grandma’s plant, but the information in her journals was too incomplete to make a direct search useful. I needed to understand the ecosystem she’d documented first—soil composition, companion species, altitude, moisture, anything that might narrow down the three possible locations she had marked.
“I want to establish baseline vegetation for the northern zone and compare it with the species clusters in my grandmother’s notes,” I explained. “If I can identify recurring associations, I might be able to narrow the search area.”
Barrett nodded. He didn’t tease me about the journals or question whether Grandma had actually known what she was talking about. He simply turned toward the trail. “Then we start uphill.”
I hurried after him. “Why?”
“Ground east of here stays wet after storms.” Barrett stepped over a fallen branch without breaking stride. “Half the lower trail’s probably underwater.”
“My map shows a ridge route.”
“Old map.”
