Barbara Boswell - Forever Flint

“The book is more of an anthology,” Flint continued, filling the silence. “The various contributors write about what they saw and did in dangerous cities and countries all over the world. There are plenty of armchair adventurers who enjoy experiencing danger vicariously.”

“You’re in travel publishing, Ashley, you know that,” chided Jack Hall.

“It’s Ashlinn,” she corrected, not for the first time. “And Tour & Travel features articles on places like Sausalito and Williamsburg. Our readers want amenities and charm, not threats to their lives.”

“But your new publisher is set on changing that,” Flint reminded her.

As if she needed reminding! Ashlinn sighed.

“Custer State Park probably is less dangerous than crossing any street in Paris, but our stay there will be a useful respite,” said Etienne Bouvier. “With no distractions in the evenings, I plan to polish my article on my encounter with headhunters.”

“Before you ask,” Flint murmured under his breath to Ashlinn “He’s not referring to an executive search agency.”

She knew he was kidding and chuckled quietly. “I think they’d throw me out of the van if I asked, even as a joke,” she whispered back. “They take their adventures very seriously.”

“The next two weeks are the equivalent of lying in the sun on a beach, something I rarely do,” piped up Rico. “But I intend to completely relax on this trip.”

“We’re scheduled to rock climb, mountain bike and climb a peak, among other activities,” Ashlinn pointed out, reciting their proposed itinerary from the list she’d been given that morning. “None of that can be termed relaxing.”

For her, just thinking of what lay ahead was fatigue-inducing. The possibility of relaxation during the next two weeks seemed as remote as their campsite.

“I think that climbing Harney Peak, which is 7,242 feet high, might qualify as relaxation compared to the twenty-thousand-some feet they scaled on Everest,” observed Flint.

“I guess when you put it like that . .” Ashlinn’s voice trailed off.

The thought of attempting to climb over seven thousand feet still did not strike her as child’s play. She pictured rocks and falls and broken bones.

“Glad you’re along to translate for the lady, Flint,” Koji said gratefully.

Ashlinn knew he wasn’t referring to language difficulties, because all the men spoke English fluently. Nor was the lack of understanding between her and her fellow campers the result of typical male/female differences so well-documented in the pop psychology books proliferating on bookstore shelves.

No, she and the four international risk takers were like creatures from separate universes with absolutely no common frame of reference. She found their bold mindset, their casual bravado, so incomprehensible that even small talk posed a difficulty. Since they’d met this morning, she’d invariably said the wrong thing, irking or boring the four happy wanderers.

But as Koji had mentioned, Flint was proving valuable as a translator cum peacemaker, interpreting her to the men and vice versa. Though he hadn’t risked his life on seven continents, somehow, fortunately, he was able to relate both to those who had and to Ashlinn.

“Since she’s offering no fringe benefits, we’re grateful you don’t mind baby-sitting her, Flint,” said Jack Hall in a relieved better-you-than-me tone.

Ashlinn couldn’t let that remark go unchallenged. “That crack about fringe benefits is too low to dignify with a rejoinder, and I don’t need a baby-sitter!”

The four men laughed, as if she’d told a hilarious joke.

“You need a baby-sitter a helluva lot more than we need a guide, chica,” said Rico. “The four of us have had more than enough experience to be on our own in a state park in South Dakota. You can’t say the same.”

More hearty macho laughter. More stories of being held at gunpoint, of drinking snake blood, of bribing their way in and out of the hellholes of the world while loving every minute of it.

Ashlinn leaned her head against the window and closed her eyes, pretending she’d nodded off to sleep. She had already had enough interaction with her campmates. Two whole weeks with them loomed like an eternity.

It seemed ironic that last night, she had been apprehensive about spending the next two weeks with Flint. Who could have guessed that today she would consider him the closest thing she had to a friend and ally?

But it was true. Flint was courteous, treating her as an equal member of the expedition, not an unwelcome pest. The same couldn’t be said for the others in the group.

Ashlinn’s mind drifted back to her meeting with them this morning, after her predawn trip to Paradise Outdoors’ company headquarters with Flint. To the fateful moment when she’d informed the men that she not only wasn’t a good cook, but her campfire cuisine was even worse than her everyday efforts.

“But cooking is what women are created for!” Rico exclaimed, shocked.

Ashlinn had felt obliged to offer a rebuttal. What woman wouldn’t? But Flint had caught her hand, pulling her out of earshot of the group.

“For the sake of congeniality, I recommend just letting that one pass,” he suggested quietly.

“But he just relegated women back to the Stone Age!” objected Ashlinn. “On behalf of women everywhere, I. . .”

“You can talk till you’re hoarse, but you’ll never convince him otherwise. Anyway, the men agreed to do the cooking for themselves,” Flint pointed out. “You won’t be slaving over a hot campfire, except to make your own meals. Can’t you view that as a victory on behalf of women everywhere?”

“I guess so.” Ashlinn was very aware that Flint was still holding her hand. A small shiver rippled along her spine.

“Cooking isn’t the only thing women are good for,” Bouvier had interjected, his eyes raking Ashlinn’s trim blue-jeaned figure. “Don’t forget about sex.”

“As if we ever could!” Jack Hall had laughed rakishly “Maybe you’ll share your tent with one of us, lovely lady? Or all of us, if the gods are smiling”

Ashlinn didn’t know if he was kidding or not but decided to set the record straight right from the beginning.

“The gods aren’t smiling,” she said succinctly. “So don’t bother going through the motions, because you’ve already struck out.”

Only Bouvier didn’t get her baseball metaphor. “I have a can of Mace,” Ashlinn clarified her position for him. “If you try anything with me, I’ll use it on you.”

“So you’ve already made your choice, then?” Koji’s eyes were fixed on her hand linked with Flint’s.

Her face flaming, Ashlinn dropped Flint’s hand. “My choice is to be left alone!”

Just in case they decided to take her literally and abandon her in the wild, she added, “I expect to be treated exactly like any other member of this group. As if I were Asher Carey.”

Rico said something in a language she didn’t recognize and they all laughed. Except Flint. He looked as uncomprehending as she did.

“An old Sinhalese saying,” Koji explained. “Remind us to translate later, Flint.”

Ashlinn guessed the remark was outrageously sexist and dealt with a woman’s place in the most insulting terms. Well, she didn’t want to be here any more than they wanted her along. It was just too bad she was so totally outnumbered. If only Flint’s half sisters hadn’t been so impossible.

As the four men swapped tales of the smugglers’ bazaar in Peshawar, Ashlinn fell into a light fitful sleep that lasted until the van came to a stop.

She opened her eyes to see an enormous buffalo standing a few feet away, staring straight at her. She gasped.