"Don't wear your eyes out," his father said, coming up behind him.
Nick's face grew hot. "I won't," he muttered.
They headed for the car, walking well behind the others. "She sure is something to look at."
"She's all right."
"All right, my ass. She's a knockout, and you know it. Now if I was in your shoes, I'd be right in there striking up an acquaintance."
"Yeah, well. "
"You don't want her thinking you're stuck up."
"I'm not stuck up."
Approaching the car, Nick watched Julie pick up her backpack. She lifted it by the straps and swung it onto the trunk of her father's Olds Cutlass. Balancing it there, she turned around. Her eyes met Nick's for a moment, as if to make sure he was watching. Then she leaned back, hooking one arm through a strap, twisting, slipping her other arm into place. She leaned forward. The pack tipped against her. She stood up straight; the pull of the straps drew her shoulders back. Nick found himself staring at her breasts, which seemed more prominent than before.
He turned away to put on his own backpack. When he looked again at Julie, she was wearing aviator sunglasses and a red beret that made her seem like some kind of commando.
That's a sharp hat, he could tell her. Sharp? She'll think I'm a turkey. An awesome hat. That's better. But he didn't say it. Instead, he picked up his walking stick.
"Hey," Julie said, "is that a real blackthorn stick?" She walked toward him.
Blushing, he nodded.
"Can I see it?"
He handed it to her.
"Hey, this is nice." She ran her hands along its polished, knobby shaft.
"I got it in Ireland."
"Really? We've been there. Where did you buy it?"
"Some gift shop near Blarney Castle."
"No kidding? We were there. Benny got a shillelagh at that place. Blarney Handicrafts?"
"Yeah, that's the place." "Did you kiss the Blarney Stone?" she asked.
"Sure."
"How about the stairs going up there?"
"Pretty hairy."
She laughed. "Kissing the stone was a cinch after those stairs. Did you get the gift of gab?"
"I'm not sure it worked on me."
"Let's get this show on the road," Dad called.
Julie stayed beside Nick as they walked over to join the rest of the group. With Mr. O'Toole and Dad in the lead, they hiked across a meadow. Ahead, Nick saw a wooden trail sign.
"Have you ever been up in this area?" Julie asked.
"Not around here. We've been into Mineral King, Yosemite, lots of places. Parts of the John Muir Trail. How about you?"
She shook her head, making her blond hair sway. "I think it's really neat to go where you haven't been before."
"Yeah, like exploring."
"And you never know what you'll find."
They reached the trail, a wide dusty track leading into the forest. The sign beside it read juniper lake, 2 mi.
"If it's all right with everybody," Mr. O'Toole said, "we'll stop there for the night."
"Fine by me," Dad said.
The arrow pointed to the left. They started to walk. The straps felt snug on Nick's shoulders. The pack, though heavy, rode easily on his back. He took a deep breath. The hot air smelled of dust, and flowers, and pine, and he caught a hint of perfume from Julie. She stayed beside him as they walked.
She's not so bad after all, he thought. This could turn out good.
Chapter Six
Ettie's leg muscles trembled from the strain of squatting. Finally, she straightened up. She looked at what she'd done. With both hands, she scooped up loose soil. She sprinkled it onto the pile of her feces. "Into the dirt," she said, "I commit the essence of my foes. As their essence is obscured, so let all traces of their presence be banished from this canyon, that those who seek them might find no cause to trespass here."
She brushed her hands on her dress.
"That'll do it," she muttered.
She backed out of the crevice and sat on a block of granite. This high on the slope, she was still in sunlight. The shadow was not far below, creeping slowly upward as the sun sank closer to the opposite ridge.
There was already a nice breeze. It made her sweaty dress feel cool. Raising her arms, she let the breeze chill her sodden armpits.
Merle appeared, off to the right, mounting the crest of the small ridge that separated the lakes. He wore one blue backpack, and carried another. As Ettie watched, he started climbing the shadowy slope. He didn't get far before abandoning the pack in his arms. With the other still on his back, he made his way higher, leaving the shade behind. He clambered over boulders, scurried up steep granite slabs, and finally vanished. From where Ettie sat, it looked as if he'd stepped through solid rock. She couldn't see the Fissure that led into their cave.
A few moments later, Merle reappeared. He sprang down the slope, going to retrieve the second pack.
Though still angry with him, Ettie had to admit she looked forward to checking out the booty. If the couple's tent was any indication, they'd come well equipped. Probably had a camp stove and a couple of nice sleeping bags at least. A stove would come in real handy. Wouldn't put up smoke like the cook fires they sometimes built in the cave. And their ratty old sleeping bags weren't much good against the night's cold. There'd be food, too. Probably enough to keep them going for a few more days anyway. They'd been talking about another raid on campers over by Lake Wilson, just to snatch some food, but there was always the danger of giving themselves away, pulling stunts like that, so it was good not to try it too often.
In spite of the advantages, she wished Merle would learn to control himself. He was just like his father that way. Poor man got a taste of the power, and just couldn't stop. Took a policeman's bullet to stop him. She should've learned her lesson from that, and kept Merle ignorant. Seems a man just hasn't got the same control a woman does. It's that pecker, of course. Once that pecker gets heated up, nothing else matters.
I offered 'em down.
The gall of that boy, laying blame on the Master. The only call he got came from right between his legs.
She should've stopped him. When they saw those two swimming, she'd known Merle might go after the gal. She'd warned him against it. He'd promised to leave her alone. Ettie knew how weak he was. She had to admit she'd half expected him to break his promise. But when he fell asleep after dark, she'd figured it'd be all right. He must've been playing possum, just to put her at ease so she'd sleep and leave him free to sneak down.
Well, he wouldn't trick her that way again. Next time — if there was a next time — she'd keep herself awake all night.
As Merle disappeared again into the cave, Ettie stood up. Her rump was numb from sitting on the rock. She rubbed it, and the feeling returned with an aching tingle. Then she started down the slope.
She was eager to get to the cave and see what Merle had brought in. First things first, though. She'd have to give the campsite a close look to make sure all the traces were gone.
Halfway down the slope, she left the sunlight behind. In the shade, the breeze felt chilly. Ettie hoped those folks had some nice parkas with them. Her sweatshirt up at the cave wasn't nearly warm enough once the sun went down.
She didn't descend all the way to the lake; that would mean more climbing. Instead, when she was about level with the low ridge at the northern end, she traversed the slope. She reached the ridge, leaped across the gap where the stream, far below, tumbled toward Lower Mesquite, and made her way down.