Lost Canyon. Nina Revoyr
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working in the fields next door had bullets whiz right past their heads.”
“Wow,” Todd said.
“It’s a real shame, if you ask me.”
“A real shame,” Henry echoed.
“All those drugs and things coming up this way where it’s always been so quiet. We haven’t had something happen like that my whole life,” Annie said. “But it just goes to show you, there’s good and evil everywhere. And you can’t get away from trouble if it wants to find you.”
“That’s for sure,” Todd said.
Now Gwen appeared at the end of the counter, looking hesitant. “Sorry to interrupt, but can I ask a question?”
Sweet Annie turned to her. “Sure, honey. Hey, where are you all going anyway?”
“We’re going backpacking,” Gwen said. “Up in the mountains.”
“Backpacking! Adventurers, huh? Which trail are you taking? Booth Valley?”
“No, actually, we’re going up to Cloud Lakes.”
“Cloud Lakes? That’s supposed to be beautiful, although I’ve never done it myself. Like I said, everything I need’s right here in Franklin.”
“We’re really excited,” Todd said.
“Well, it’s the bears that scare me,” Sweet Annie continued. “One of them made it all the way to Franklin one time. Walked in and helped himself to the worms right there in the refrigerator. You’re braver than I am, that’s for sure.”
Gwen asked, “Do you have any washcloths?”
Sweet Annie shrugged. “I think so, honey. We have just about everything. You just have to look a little while to find it.”
And seemingly, they did have everything else. Oscar found a display of mugs from national parks—the Grand Canyon, Yellowstone, Glacier, the Everglades. He saw a box of daguerreotypes of unidentified people. Then a rack of back issues of Field & Stream and American Marksman, mixed in with Ladies’ Home Journal and Highlights. There were cleaning supplies in dusty packages that had never been opened. There was a toy rocking horse, a wood stove, a phonograph. He could not remember when he had ever seen such clutter. And yet Todd and Gwen looked totally content—Todd still talking with the proprietor and the men at the counter, Gwen picking up various handcrafted things, smiling, placing them back on the shelves. He didn’t understand this—what exactly did she find so charming? Why wasn’t she freaked out by these goofy rednecks?
Then Tracy swept past him, holding a flashlight and two bundles of firewood. “Let’s go.” She stood impatiently at the cash register until Sweet Annie noticed her and ambled over to ring her up.
Gwen paid for a washcloth and a little embroidered pillow that read, Every day is a beautiful day. Todd bought a postcard—the same picture as the one on the door—and fished in his wallet until he came up with a small folded rectangle of colored paper. It was the Packers schedule from last season. He handed it to Sweet Annie. “To add to your collection,” he said.
When they were back on the highway, Oscar shook his head. “Well, that’s not a place I need to go back to.”
“I thought it was sweet,” said Gwen. “It reminded me of the country stores my great-aunt used to tell me about in the South.”
“Really? That woman seemed a little off to me. And those two guys weren’t exactly rolling out the welcome mat.”
“Oh, they were fine,” Todd said. “They’re just locals. They’re probably not used to seeing city people.”
Oscar was about to ask what exactly Todd meant by “city people” when Tracy looked over her shoulder and into the back.
“And did you catch that story about the police shoot-out?” she asked. “Geez, it makes you wonder.”
“It does,” Gwen agreed. “And those folks were friendly. But I sure wouldn’t want to break down out here in the middle of the night. There are a lot of white supremacist and militia groups in the Central Valley, you know.”
“Really?” Todd said. But judging from his tone, Oscar thought, what he meant was, Oh, come on!
“Seriously. The Visalia area is a Klan stronghold, and other groups are active out here too. Two of them were convicted a couple of years ago for murdering a black kid.”
“The Klan,” Todd repeated, not disguising his skepticism.
“Really,” Gwen said. “You can Google it.”
Oscar’s earlier irritation at Gwen was gone, and now he felt aligned with her, protective. He didn’t appreciate Todd’s questioning of her. And he resolved that however unprepared she might be for this trip, he would take it upon himself to watch out for her.
“Well one good thing,” Todd said. “Those methed-out creeps that lady was talking about don’t have the chops to backpack in the mountains.”
“That’s for sure,” Tracy remarked. “Hey, how do you know all this, Gwen?”
“One of my coworkers brought a bunch of kids up to Sequoia last summer. He found all this stuff on the Internet and was a little freaked out.”
“Well, whatever creepy folks there are down there, we’re away from them now,” said Tracy. “Check it out. We’re going uphill.”
And they were. The flat straight strip of country highway was now curving and winding upward, a lush valley opening to the right of them. They went up and up, beyond the chaparral and oak-lined hills and into the pines, and as the trees changed, the air did too, and they rolled their windows down to breathe it in. It smelled like forest and rich wet earth; it smelled fresh; it smelled like mountain. Oscar’s unease and irritation both faded, and he was excited again. He stared out the window and took in the view—the deep green valley with the river winding through it, the snowcapped peaks behind. This is what I came for, he thought. This is why I’m here.
Chapter Six
Todd
When they finally pulled up to Redwood Station, Todd couldn’t contain himself; the car had barely come to a stop before he was out of it. The ranger station was a miniscule one-story cabin, painted a red-chocolate brown. He loved how well these buildings blended in with their surroundings. The structure looked especially small at the foot of all the grand cedars and pines; no sun broke through the canopy of branches. Tacked up on the walls were trail maps, pictures of bear canisters, warnings about proper food storage, and examples of items—food wrappers, sunscreen, deodorant, toilet paper—that had to be packed out of the woods. About half a dozen people were lined up at the counter, waiting to get their permits. Another three or four backpackers were splayed out across benches that had been cut from logs, with heavy packs, water bottles, and bags of trail mix scattered around them. Judging from their sunburns and dirt-streaked clothes, they had just come in from the backcountry.
Tracy took the reservation letter they’d exchange for their permit and got in line. Gwen and Oscar ran off to use the restrooms. Todd walked out of the parking lot and toward a grove of sequoias he’d spotted from the road. He was glad to have a few minutes alone. All morning he’d been wondering if he should have stayed behind. Why hadn’t the Pattersons told him they were cancelling? If he’d known ahead of time, he might have made his own excuses. But he didn’t find out until he’d arrived at Tracy’s, and by then it was too late. Now, several hours into the trip, he wasn’t sure how this was going to work. He felt weird being the only white person in the group, but that was just the start of his discomfort. Tracy’s usual intensity, which was great for the gym, had kicked into overdrive—and spending a structured hour with someone a couple times a week was very different than being with her all the time. He liked Gwen, and she was easy to look at too—she had dark lovely skin,