Indiana Belle (American Journey Book 3) (27 page)

CHAPTER 48: CAMERON

Fifty minutes after copying the key, stuffing their packs with crystals, and leaving a not-so-mythical cave behind, Cameron and Candice went down the trail wearier but wiser than when they went up. They had not only completed their mission but also opened up a new world of possibilities that would be explored at length on the train trip home.

"How are you holding up?" Cameron asked.

"I'm holding," Candice said.

Cameron laughed.

"I'll make it up to you. I promise."

"You had better."

Cameron smiled as his fiancée, dressed in a khaki blouse and wool bloomers, walked down the trail with the enthusiasm of a Girl Scout on a forced march. He knew she would rather be dining at an elegant restaurant than hauling a bag of rocks down a mountain and planned to make it up to her at the earliest opportunity.

As Candice picked up her pace and pulled ahead of him, Cameron turned his thoughts back to the cave, the discoveries, and the possibilities. He had far more questions than answers.

Why had Percival and Henry left the crystals behind? Why had they not copied the key or mentioned it in their writings? Had they even been aware of the crystals and the key?

Cameron could not believe that the scientists had missed the dead-end room, but he could not dismiss the possibility. He himself had almost turned away from the chamber.

Then he thought about something the Bells
had
missed or at least not documented in their journals and letters: a formula for forward time travel. Cameron had found clues pointing to that exciting possibility in several places. He did not know what he would do with the information, but he did know one thing. He would not ignore it.

Cameron checked his watch, looked at the sky, and then glanced at the landscape below. Even at five in the afternoon, a week before the summer solstice, he could see signs that the day was growing long. Shadows had begun to spread across the sides of the mountains like black blankets and blotted out colorful and distinctive swaths of forest, rock, and scrubland.

Cameron stopped to tie his shoe, looked ahead, and noticed that his hiking partner and future wife had left him in the dust. It was time to pick up the pace, he thought. He could ponder the mysteries of time travel and the beauty of the Sierra Nevada once he got to town.

The Rhode Islander took a swig from his canteen, returned it to its belt, and adjusted his unbalanced pack before resuming his march down the mountain. Ten seconds and twenty steps later, he heard a growl and a scream and realized that his long day was about to get longer.

Cameron ran quickly down a straight stretch and then slowed when he reached a bend in the trail. When he emerged from the bend and directed his eyes forward, he saw one thing he wanted to see and one he did not. He saw Candice Bell and a mountain lion.

"Don't move," Cameron said. "Whatever you do,
don't
move."

"I'm not," Candice replied in a testy voice. "Come quickly."

Cameron removed his pack and evaluated the situation as he slowly stepped forward. He had read in a wildlife magazine that the best way to deal with most predators was to stop, stand tall, make eye contact, and wait for the critter to leave.

That was the theory. Putting it into practice was something else. Cameron needed only a few seconds to conclude that this predator, a 150-pound cougar, had no intention of doing anything except consuming a society editor on a remote mountain trail. The big cat licked its chops as it inched its way toward Candice from a distance of about twenty yards.

Where is an Uzi when you need one?

Deciding that he had no choice but to act, Cameron picked up a baseball-bat-sized branch, secured it firmly in his hands, and raced forward. He raised the branch high, ran past Candice, and yelled loudly as he charged the cat.

Cameron felt fear shoot through his body as he moved closer to the lion. Rather than run, or even retreat, the cat stood its ground on the trail. It crouched, snarled, and glared at the attacker as if it were ready to take him on and tear
him
to shreds.

Cameron swung the club toward the end of his charge. He swung it wildly, rapidly, and aggressively, like a caveman on meth or a doctoral student riding an adrenaline rush.

His bluff worked. When he drew within striking distance of the lion and pounded the stick against the ground, the ferocious feline backed down. It backtracked a couple of steps, snarled at the crazy human, and sprinted in the other direction. When it reached a wide spot in the trail, it veered left, ran downhill, and disappeared into a thicket of bushes.

Convinced that the danger had passed, Cameron dropped the club, placed his hands on his knees, and caught his breath. He could feel his heart racing as fast as any vehicle at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. He had dodged a bullet, he thought. He had dodged it big time.

Cameron gazed at Candice and saw that she, too, was still recovering from her come-to-cougar moment. She stared at her companion, fiancé, and unlikely rescuer with eyes that revealed fear, relief, and lingering apprehension. If she thought the threat of death by cat had completely passed, she had a funny way of showing it. She looked positively terrified.

"Are you all right?" Cameron asked.

Candice nodded but did not speak. She instead removed her pack, lowered it to the ground, and stepped toward her hero with extended arms.

Cameron did not wait for her to cover the distance. He stood up, took one more breath, and headed back up the trail. If Candice needed a hug, he would be more than happy to provide it.

He never got the chance to deliver. Ten yards from an embrace he wanted and needed, he tripped on a protruding rock, flew forward, and rolled off the trail.

Cameron felt every stick, rock, and shrub as he tumbled fifty feet down a steep slope. He did not stop feeling them until he came to a rest, flat on his back, near the base of a young sequoia.

Candice screamed his name and rushed forward as he fell. When she reached the spot on the trail with the protruding rock, she stopped, leaned over the edge, and called out to him.

"Are you OK?"

Cameron chuckled. He wasn't OK at all. He felt like he had been tossed in a cement mixer and left to spin overnight, but even he had to laugh at his situation. Mere moments after driving off a savage beast – a big one, no less – he had fallen victim to something far less dangerous. He had succumbed to his own clumsiness.

"I'll live," Cameron said.

"Do you need help getting up?" Candice asked.

"I might. I'm not sure I can walk."

"What happened?"

"I injured my pride," Cameron said. He laughed. "I injured my pride and sprained an ankle."

CHAPTER 49: CAMERON

Cameron had not overstated the situation. He had sprained his left ankle so badly that he had to crawl back to the trail and was unable to stand without help when he got there.

Facing a serious, immediate problem, he set out to find a serious, immediate solution. He found one barely two hundred yards down the trail in the form of a cabin he had seen on the way up. Modern, furnished, and conveniently unoccupied, it was just what the doctor ordered for someone who was at least several miles away from a physician.

With Candice's help, Cameron reached the cabin, with the backpacks, at ten after six. Three hours, two whiskeys, and one nap later, he leaned against two pillows in a single bed, took a breath, and gazed at
his
rescuer. She appeared as amused as he was.

"How are you feeling?" Candice asked.

"My ankle still hurts like hell, but I'm feeling pretty good, all things considered," Cameron said. He chuckled. "We've had quite a day."

"Yes, we have. Can I get you anything?"

"No. I'm set for now. Just pull up a chair and keep me company."

Candice nodded and left the main room. A moment later, she returned with a wooden chair from the kitchen, placed it back first near the bed, and took a seat. She rested her chin on her crossed arms on the back of the chair, offered a silly grin, and batted her lashes.

"Is this better?" Candice asked.

Cameron smiled.

"It's perfect."

"Good."

Cameron glanced at his boxer shorts and his sleeveless T-shirt and then looked for the rest of his attire, which had mysteriously disappeared during his nap. He looked at his nurse.

"Did my clothes run off?"

Candice beamed.

"They did! They decided to skip town before the cougar returned."

"Are they coming back?" Cameron asked.

"I hope not," Candice said with a giggle. She paused and then looked at him thoughtfully. "I washed your shirt and pants while you were sleeping."

"That was nice of you."

"It was the least I could do."

Cameron smiled but did not reply. He instead looked around the room and pondered his good fortune. He had not only a roof over his head but also food, water, warmth, and comfort.

He also had an Irishman's luck. When he and Candice had entered the three-room residence, they had found a warm stove, a cold icebox, and a smoldering log in a stone fireplace. They had missed the owners, a Mr. and Mrs. King, by minutes, if not seconds.

Cameron surmised that the Kings had left through the back door, climbed in a car parked behind the house, and driven to Truckee via an access road. Had they walked out the front door, which faced the trail, they would have almost certainly seen two hobbling hikers.

He also guessed they would not return to the cabin for at least a few days. Candice had found a travel itinerary scribbled on a slip in the kitchen. The Kings had apparently rushed to Truckee to catch a train. The Overland Express left for San Francisco at seven fifteen.

Cameron stared blankly at the crackling fire and then turned his attention to the woman at his side. He smiled when he saw a mischievous grin.

"Why do I suspect you're up to something?"

"Because I usually am," Candice said.

Cameron chuckled.

"I see you're going to keep me on my toes."

"I hope so."

"Have you eaten?" Cameron asked.

Candice nodded.

"I found a can of soup in the pantry. It was nice of the Kings to leave us some food."

Cameron smiled.

"It was nice of them to leave us a
house
. Remind me to leave them a thank-you note and a twenty. I don't want them to think their trespassers were ungrateful."

Candice laughed.

"Have you always been this way?"

"No," Cameron said. "I wasn't flippant until I met you."

Candice smiled, shook her head, and then looked at him with serious eyes. She resumed the conversation a moment later with a question he did not expect.

"Are you looking forward to going back?"

"To Evansville?"

"Yes."

"Yeah," Cameron said. "I am. I'm not sure what I'm going to do with myself when we get there, but I am looking forward to going back. The town is growing on me."

"Is this
time
growing on you as well?"

Cameron sighed.

"I thought we agreed to discuss that later."

"I can't stop thinking about it," Candice said. She frowned. "I don't want to have to choose between my family and you or my time and yours."

Cameron gazed at her sympathetically.

"No one has to choose anything now."

"But—"

"Let's just enjoy this time together. OK?"

Candice nodded.

"OK."

"That's my girl."

Candice took a breath.

"I'm going back to the kitchen. Can I get you something to drink?"

Cameron nodded.

"Bring me something hot."

Candice blushed.

"Can you be more specific?"

Cameron laughed.

"Bring me some tea. Thank you."

"All right," Candice said. She smiled and shook her head. "Tea it is."

Cameron waved as she got up from the chair, turned it around, and walked into the kitchen. He loved the playful exchange and hoped there would be many more in the future.

Cameron pondered that future. He imagined children, careers, vacations, and even a family farm. He pictured all the things he had never had and always wanted. He just couldn't picture when they would happen or where.

Candice was right to obsess about the question. She would have to confront some difficult decisions in the coming weeks – and so would he.

The cougar fighter gazed at the room and noticed it had grown dark. A candle on a table near the door and the fading fire provided the only illumination.

Cameron started to utter a warning about the dwindling light but stopped in midsentence when he heard a noise in the kitchen. He spoke again when he heard a crash.

"Is everything OK in there?"

"It's OK," Candice said as she entered the room. "I broke a dish, that's all. You just may have to leave a larger tip for our hosts in the morning."

Cameron laughed.

"I can do that."

Candice moved at a snail's pace as she carried a cup and a saucer across the darkened room. She got as far as a thick rug in the middle of the floor when she tripped, fell flat on her face, and broke her second dish in as many minutes.

"Oh, Lord, I've done it again!" Candice said.

Cameron reacted quickly. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, leaned forward, and extended a hand to Calamity Jane.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. I'm embarrassed to no end, but I'm fine," Candice said. She sat up, looked at her wet blouse, and laughed. "This is just not my day."

"Forget the tea," Cameron said. "I don't need it."

"No. Let me get you another cup. The water is still hot."

"Seriously, sweetheart, there is no need."

"Yes, there is!" Candice snapped. "I want to do this. I'll do better."

Cameron threw his hands up.

"All right, all right," he said.

Candice grabbed the cup and searched for the halves of the broken plate. When she found them, she stood up, took a deep breath, and smiled at her patient.