Darrel Sparkman - After the Fall

“Sure you are,” she said sarcastically.

“You should’ve known, you know, by the weight. You need to learn that. And the spring is weak in the clip. It’ll misfire one day.”

He went quietly about making a stew. He had bagged a rabbit earlier, so he put that in the wooden pot, along with some arrow weed bulbs, and wild onions.

“You followed me, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did.” She stared at him until he shrugged. “I thought to make sure you got to Base Camp all right.” Then he smiled. “I didn’t expect to find you in the pool. Lost my head, I guess.”

“Is that all you were doing? Nothing else on your mind?”

“Of course not.” His eyes met hers. “I admit it. I want to know you. Satisfied? I was afraid I wouldn’t see you again.”

“You said I should know you wouldn’t hurt me. How, Trent? Like I said, I don’t know you. All I know is what I have heard, and that’s not been too good.” She hesitated a moment, then sighed noisily. “All right. I’m a big girl. I won’t deny I’m attracted to you. Sort of. But the things I hear—I’m not sure I want to know you.”

He nodded. Attracted to him? “You are entirely correct, and I’m sorry.”

“And you shouldn’t sneak up on people.” He could see a ghost of a smile forming—just a twitch at the corner of her lips.

He grinned at her. “Somehow, I think you’re going to make me do irrational things.”

After studying him a minute, she sat cross-legged across the fire from him and studied the pot of boiling water. “Why doesn’t the wood burn?”

“Won’t, as long as the fire stays below the waterline. Water absorbs the heat.”

“Why not use a metal pot? There are plenty of old camping supplies around.”

“It’s too dangerous. Metal shines, and rattles in your pack when you bump it, so I don’t carry it.” She looked at him in wonderment. “Are you always so careful?”

“Hope to be… likely die if I’m not.”

The girl sat across the fire from him, slowly relaxing, and leaned forward to smell the stew. “Whatever is in there, it smells pretty good.” She looked at him. “I can do better.”

“No doubt.” He glanced at her seriously. “Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

Her chin came up defiantly. “I’ve survived so far.”

He looked at her levelly. “Through no fault of your own. What if I’d been someone else? Anyone could have followed you, and then you would be dead or something worse. And lady, you saw what something worse could be like, back down the trail.”

She tried to hold his gaze, but failed. “Why didn’t you?”

“What?”

Her head snapped up. “Rape me. Kill me. Take your pick.”

“Not my style.” He gave her another quick grin. “If we get together, I want you to enjoy it.”

She abruptly gave him a radiant smile, as he looked warily at her. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t. Thank you.” She fidgeted around and suddenly seemed to have nowhere to go with her hands. “You’re sure getting your eyes full. You acted the same back at the clearing where we found Markie. Haven’t you seen a woman in awhile?”

He snapped out of his stare. “No, actually I haven’t. At least, not a woman as beautiful as you.”

She settled back against a rock with a pensive look. “So, John Trent, what do we do now?”

“We rest. We talk. Then, we see.” He grinned at her. “Who knows, you might get to like me.”

As she sat, cradling a cup of coffee in her hands, made from the one metal utensil in his pack—a coffee pot so blackened by campfires it had ceased to shine, she marveled at how peaceful the forest seemed. She was surprised at herself for being able to relax with a stranger, alone in the forest. Although, she admitted to herself, he did not seem like a stranger. It had been a long time since she had any coffee to drink, other than the brew made from chicory root, and for this moment at least, she was determined to enjoy it.

The quietness of the forest settled in. First light of the morning, and evening sunset were always this way. The mist hung over the ground, swirling slightly in the breeze. Birds called, and the smells of the forest were always the strongest at the beginning, or end of the day.

She shook leaves from her hair and on impulse, let out the braids she had hurriedly put together. Taking a comb from her pack, she ran it through her hair, looking speculatively at Trent. In a rugged way, he was handsome, although older than she. His age did not matter to her, but it sure would with her father. She caught him looking at her again, and felt a sudden pull toward those grey eyes and quick hands. “It’s quiet here.”

“Yes, it seems that way. But the forest is alive with sound. You just have to learn to notice it. In the old days, there was so much noise around you couldn’t hear anything, and silence actually scared people. They called it noise pollution. Not a problem anymore.”

She thought a moment, watching the man in front of her. He appeared relaxed and like a coiled spring at the same time. Curious. “You sound almost glad things have changed.”

“I can like the changes without liking the way it came about, can’t I?”

She watched him clean his guns. “Why do you give so much attention to your guns? Why keep them so clean? Twice I’ve seen you now, and both times you worked on your guns.”

“This new world we’ve got, sometimes these guns are the only thing between me and being dead. I don’t want to be dead.” He looked at her pensively. “Especially now.”

In the silence that followed she smiled at him, knowing she was making him uncomfortable. Perversely, she wondered if he had a woman, and if she made him uncomfortable too. She surprised herself by a quick feeling of jealousy. Why should she care?

“I should move soon.” His statement was belied when he didn’t move at all. Maybe he thought sitting with her made the trail not so inviting.

She could see him come to a decision. “I’m going to find a place to sleep for the night. You’re welcome to come along if you want. Your choice.”

“What’s wrong with this spot?”

He just shrugged at her. “We’ve been here too long and it’s too exposed.”

She looked at him speculatively, knowing she should be leaving, but now the circumstances changed. Now, she was the one reluctant to leave. Something important was happening here. “I’ll come along. For awhile, anyway.”

They moved out with Trent in the lead. Disdaining the game trails, he weaved a path through the thick undergrowth, constantly keeping an eye out for a place to spend the night. They would have a cold camp, with no fire to attract attention. Discomfort was another price of survival. Cooking was done during the day, then camp was moved somewhere else to lessen the chance of discovery. These days, you never wanted anyone to see you before you saw them.

As they rode, he was impressed with the girl behind him. She hadn’t said a word since they left, keeping quiet on the trail. He could smell her, though, and knew what she looked like without seeing her. He could feel her. For once in his life, he didn’t know how to proceed. All he knew was, he wanted this girl.

They found a spot under a white oak. The canopy of leaves would keep the dampness off in the morning, and the wide expanse of dried leaves on the ground would give warning if anything approached.

It wasn’t only people they had to worry about. This was a land of black bear, wild pigs, and more than once he saw the tawny mountain lion, any of which would be hard to handle, especially at night.

He cleared away a couple of places of leaves and sticks, making sure no rocks were sticking up. After staking out the horses, he wordlessly wrapped himself in his blanket and taking a last look around, was immediately asleep.