Fourth of July on Gold Peak

I'm a new author, and this is my first submission. So I hope you enjoy it, and please let me know if you'd like more.

*****

Ryan grew up in Boston. He took his first steps on concrete under an ash-colored sky.

"I never realized... how could I?" he would say in later years. "Not until I flew west..." Ryan was normally articulate, but he could never seem to finish his sentences when speaking of this.

A mini-bus, bannered with "Orientation Week," picked him up at the airport. He and four other freshmen climbed aboard. But the university was not the first stop. The driver took them to Spencer Butte, commanding an aerial view of the Emerald Valley and Eugene.

"Get out and take a look," he said. "This is your new home."

"I was born in that moment," Ryan would say. "It was like..." but that was another sentence he never finished.

He saw colors he had never imagined before. He heard the wind through the trees, a totally unknown music, yet somehow familiar. He gazed out at the Coburn Hills, sensed somehow the vast Cascade Mountains beyond, and thought,

"So it was you... all along..."

A wisp of verse rolled off his lips.

.

"O Wind from the West, blow high, blow low.

You come from the country I loved long ago."

.

Then and there, the city boy faded into a dream, and a spirit of the hills and forests was born.

He bought an old, beat-up car, the only kind he could afford, and spent most of Orientation Week driving out to the mountains - just state parks and campgrounds at first. He didn't know how to find the really good roads yet, the ones that aren't on any maps. His camping gear was a blanket, a jacket, and a cooler full of hot dogs. It took him several outings just to learn how to start a fire and keep it going. This, and many other things, he learned gradually and patiently.

He had a piece of luck in his second term: the older brother of a roommate was a forestry major.

Nick was in his last semester (plus one summer term) at U of O, already on his way out - bored and sinking beneath the waves of senioritis. It was his weekend job, from Memorial Day to Labor Day, to man a fire lookout tower some miles east of the campus at Gold Peak Summit. Nick was eager for company, and he happily brought Ryan with him into the mountains.

Five weekends in a row, Ryan manned the lookout tower, learned the ropes, and did more of the observation work (little as that was) than Nick did. On the fifth weekend, Nick hinted hopefully that if Ryan wanted the place all to himself on the following weekend, he was welcome to it.

"Our little secret," he said.

He ought to have waited one more week, of course. The Fourth of July is the most dangerous of all weekends for fires. But by this time, Nick had given up caring at all. He had no intention now of ever making a career in forestry; and if his superiors should find out somehow that he had sloughed off his post to someone else, if they should bust him for it - well, he supposed he didn't give a damn.

Ryan, for his part, was delighted to be rid of the bored and blasé Nick, and he accepted the offer with alacrity.

It was hard for Ryan to contain his excitement that week and keep his mind on his job. He was not taking classes that summer. He was working a summer job to save up enough green for the fall semester. The job was at Cascade Sportsman. Now that Ryan was buying backpacks, gear bags, hiking boots, rain jackets, sleeping bags, and much more besides, he couldn't afford to work anywhere else! Cascade gave him an employee discount.

On Thursday afternoon, he was hanging a shipment of hip-waders on a display rack when the lovely Jeanette St. Geneviève strolled in the front door.

It was Ryan's job to greet the customer at the door and ask how he could help. Busy as he was though, and with his mind far away on Gold Peak, he missed the jingle of the door and did not notice Jeanette standing there.

But she noticed him.

A handsome lad with thick, black hair. He threw the floppy, rubbery waders on the rack absently while his eyes were far away. She found herself watching him. He moved with a kind of wistful, boyish grace. While one hand dealt out the hip-waders like playing cards, the other cradled the weighty shipping carton with easy strength.

When he had emptied the box, he returned to the here and now. He studied the arrangement of waders, shook his head, and began trying to rearrange them.

He's trying to make them look attractive, thought Jeanette. A sense of design. I like that.

She could have told him that the effort was foredoomed. The blackish-green, rubbery mess was never going to look like anything but a mess. But she was enjoying the show too much to interrupt.

After a couple failures, (the sloppy pile on the rack looked even worse than before,) Ryan cast aside the box, took two steps back, and surveyed the situation from a bit more distance.

Now he gets mad and kicks the box, thought Jeanette. But after a few moments of setting his head this way and that, Ryan seemed to spot the joke. He put his hands on his hips and laughed at himself, rocking back on his heels!

A sense of humor, thought Jeanette. Doesn't take himself too seriously. I like that too. She found herself advancing a few paces.

"Excuse me, please," she sang out. There was an extra lilt in her voice and spring in her step. These she saved for special occasions. She was nine tenths of the way to being hooked now, and she knew it.

"I beg your pardon, Miss," said Ryan, swinging around. "How can I..." His breath failed him when he saw her.

Green eyes, Jeanette noticed. There was the other tenth.

"...help you?" finished Ryan at last. He gave her his most pleasant and confident smile. Really blew it for a moment there, he thought to himself. But... Such a girl!

She had radiant auburn hair and eyes a bewitching smoky gray. She was dressed as a runner, and was she ever built for it! The black and pink shorts and tank-top traced perfect feminine curves from her shoulders to her knees.

"I just got these new running shoes," said Jeanette, pointing down and giving Ryan an opportunity for a head-to-toe inspection. "I'm looking for arch-support, athletic insoles - speed laces too, if you have them."

"I'm sorry, Miss..."

"Jeanette."

"Ryan." He held out a hand, and she took it with pleasure. "I'm afraid we're not that kind of store."

"But, I thought..."

"I know. The name. It happens a lot. I wish they'd change the name to 'Cascade Outdoor Sportsman' or 'Cascade Hunting, Camping, & Fishing' - something like that."

"Ah."

"Let me think now," said Ryan, stroking his chin and studying her shoes again. Those legs! "Have you tried Coliseum Sports or Decathlon? They're both on Washington here." Time to make eye contact again, and for God's sake, don't stare at those!

.

(Her well-rounded bosom shone

Soft and fair as the mountain-snow;

Her two breasts were heaving full;

To them did the hearts of heroes flow.)

.

Eye-contact, Ryan. Keep it together, and don't mess this up.

"No, I was just out breaking in my new shoes, and you're the first likely-looking place I came to."

"And thank goodness you did," sang Ryan. "We've got a sale on today that you don't want to miss! Can I interest you in..." His eyes cast about hopefully. "...some fine new fishing waders?"

As this was obviously a joke, Jeanette laughed. "I've never been fishing," she confided, "but if you're recommending them... I suppose I'll need a lot of other things too - like a fishpole for a start."

"You've come to the right place after all," said Ryan. "We have a section just for customers who use the word 'fishpole.' Let me show you..."

Jeanette was not interested in fishing, of course. But she was interested in Ryan. And after a few minutes, she made no effort to hide it.

They talked for over an hour. There was a three-minute, whirlwind tour of the store, and sporting goods were not mentioned after that, but Jeanette listened keenly as Ryan tried to explain the spell that the mountains had cast over him. She was the first person he'd ever tried to tell, and so she was the first person to hear him stumble over it and find no words.

"When I'm alone in the mountains... it's like..." The silence dragged on for some time, but Jeanette would not for anything have interrupted him. "I've just met this fellow named Ryan," he said at last. "He's an interesting one too, full of surprises... hidden depths... and he's nothing like the boy they always told me about. I think... I think I like this Ryan very much." (Another long silence) "Can you understand that?"

Oh, she understood!

"I'm going up to Gold Peak tomorrow for the Fourth of July weekend," said Ryan, "the lookout tower I told you about. You've got a stunning view from there - over a hundred mountains, seven counties, three national forests, and twenty-seven lakes."

He took both her hands in his.

"If you'd care to join me," he said, "I'd love to have your company. And I promise you a spectacular weekend."

A dizzying warmth flooded through Jeanette. She beamed with pleasure. And she couldn't answer on the first try for the crack in her voice.

"Are you...?"

"Am I what?"

"Are you asking me for a date?"

Ryan flushed, and he smiled more broadly than did Jeanette - if that were possible.

"Jeanette, will you spend the holiday weekend with me on Gold Peak... as a date?"

"I'd love to, Ryan!"

And so, Friday afternoon found them together in Ryan's tired little car, chugging around the last of many high mountain switchbacks, pausing before the "No Public Access" gate. Nick's key got them past the chain and padlock, and then they were parked beneath the venerable Gold Peak Fire Lookout Tower.

Jeanette was delighted. She had once seen the modern, steel version of such a fortress, painted that oddly unlovely shade of blue usually reserved for water towers. She had expected Ryan's tower to be much the same, but no such horror greeted her. This vintage beauty was a product of the Roosevelt years and the CCC. She was stout hardwood, unpainted, her rich, maple color oiled to a soft bronze burnish in the hot, July sun.

"Oh, Ryan, it's lovely."

"Wait 'til you see the mountains from up there!"

The regulars, a married couple of retired school teachers, hired by the U.S. Forest Service to man the tower through the summer, were already waiting in their station wagon for the arrival of their weekend relief. If they cared, or even noticed, that Nick was not in Ryan's car, they gave no sign of it. A honk and a wave, and they disappeared down the mountain road, leaving Gold Peak to Ryan and Jeanette.

A formidable flight of stairs (seventy of them) wound twice round the tower on its way to the top, but the jogger and the mountain-climber were in fine shape, and the stairs made little obstacle. A 360-degree veranda greeted them at the top of the climb, and there Jeanette paused for her first look at Ryan's promised "stunning view."

His words hadn't done the view justice! No words could.

"Oh, Ryan!" she breathed. It was every shade of green beneath Oregon summer blue. An ocean of forest stretched to the horizon on all sides, rolling and leaping over towering peaks, dotted with the bright sapphire glitter of pure mountain lakes.

"Just wait until sunset," he purred. "You've never seen the sky like that before - burning with pink and gold fire! And then, when the stars come out..."

She leaned into him then, and he took the hint. His arms enfolded her, holding her close, as they watched the mist of evening gather over distant, smoky blue peaks.

The four walls of the cabin were checkerboards of great glass panes. Supplies: food, bedding, propane, and fresh water (for the tower boasted no plumbing or electricity) were elevated to the cabin via a pulley-hoist. It took several loads and a lot of cranking. Furnishings consisted of a dresser, a dining table and chairs, a double bed, a sink, a stove, and a refrigerator - the kitchen appliances, as well as the lamps and a heater, all powered by propane. The bathroom (alas) was a solid bunker near the foot of the stairs, but all else was comfortable and inviting.

Settling in for the weekend was the work of nearly an hour. Jeanette felt a little tingle of pleasure when Ryan rolled his sleeping bag out on the floor.

Of course I'll let him sleep with me, she thought, share the bed with me anyway. But it was gallant of him not to presume. A gentleman!

When they were properly nested in, Ryan took a few minutes to show off the cabin's centerpiece - an original 1930s Osborne Fire Finder. He showed her how to line up the turntable sights on any curl of smoke spotted out the windows, measure it with the coordinate marks and the great, round topographical map, and have a precise fire location to report to authorities on the radio phone.

Then it was time for dinner. Ryan tried his best to be impressive over a propane flame and a great iron skillet, but it was no use. He was no hand in the kitchen, and he was forced to admit it. Jeanette laughed good-naturedly and threw her skill into the enterprise. They soon had a respectable skillet of cubed beef and potatoes with chopped vegetables in a thick, spicy broth.

"I can show you how to prepare meals in foil wraps," she said. "Then you can just throw them in a skillet or on a grill."

"Foil wraps? What kind of meals?"

"Oh, lemon-herb chicken; seafood scampi; Mexican corn, beans, and rice with mushrooms and onions - almost anything really."

"Can you cook those foil wraps over a bed of coals?"

"I've never tried that, but I don't see why not. How hard could it be?"

"There aren't words for how beautiful you are right now!"

Men and their food! Jeanette laughed and shook her head.

The sunset was as breathtaking as Ryan had described, and more too. And the view of the night sky from atop a mountain peak, a hundred miles from the interference of any man-made lights, was the most splendid view of all!

They leaned over the balcony railing, Ryan holding her close with one hand and tracing constellations with the other until his fingertip came to rest upon the moon.

.

"Rich and rare were the gems she wore,

And a bright gold ring on her wand she bore:

But oh! Her beauty was far beyond

Her sparkling gems and snow-white wand."

.

"That's beautiful," Jeanette breathed. "Did you write it?"

"Oh, no! That's a verse of the old country - of a time when men gazed upon the moon and stars and knew them as spirits, bright and living."

"Kiss me," she said.

Oh, he kissed her! His strong arms held her warmly and tightly, and his sweet kisses made her pleasantly dizzy and a little weak in the knees.

"Tell me more verses like that," she breathed.

And he did - softly - in between kisses, with his lips right against her ear.

But mountain air is cold at night, even in July. Before long they were driven indoors, shivering for the warmth of cozy bed covers.

"You can't sleep on the floor," Jeanette protested.

"Why not? I do it every weekend."

"Well... it will be a lot warmer in here with me." She threw back the blankets and patted the mattress invitingly.

How could he refuse?

She drifted away easily in his warm embrace and slept soundly and happily through the night.

She awoke at first light with an urgent and dismaying need to run down the stairs.

"Where are you going?" mumbled Ryan.

"To the bathroom!"

"Right behind you."

The cabin was chilly, despite the valiant efforts of the propane heater. But the outside air was liquid ice! Jeanette gasped and raced down the stairs and up again. She was still shivering as they stood at the sink, brushing their teeth. She had meant to put the coffee on, start her day, maybe take a brisk run as was her morning habit. But suddenly she was so cold that she crawled back into bed, dragging Ryan by the arm behind her.

"What are you doing?"

"I need you to warm me up," she said. "I'm freezing!"

He held her close. The warm blankets and their shared body heat were more than a match for the chilly cabin air, and Jeanette was cozy again in no time.

"It's so gray and misty out there," she observed, her head nestled against his chest.

"It won't last," Ryan promised. "This is only the second time since I've been coming here. Visibility is usually perfect. Give it an hour or two, and the sun will burn off all the low clouds. It'll be July warm again long before noon, you'll see."

"Clouds?"

"Well, we are in the mountains." She was quiet for a long moment, musing or daydreaming. "What are you thinking about?" he said at last.

"I was just thinking... This may be the only chance I ever have to make love in the clouds."

His eyes popped open. He stared at her for a startled moment before regaining his casual manner. Jeanette lifted her head from his chest, propped herself on an elbow, and looked him in the eyes. (Those magical green eyes!)

"I don't just make love to a man on the first date," she said. "I'm not that kind of girl."

"I never dreamed it."

"So why is this time so different?" He had no immediate answer. "It is different, isn't it? Don't tell me you don't feel that."

"Oh, it's different all right."

"But you don't know why?"

"I know exactly why. I'm just afraid to say it."

"Say it. You can tell me anything, Ryan, really."

But it wasn't easy for him. He didn't want to scare her away, and there was another reason, one he only half-grasped. It had to do with Boston, the old life, the old Ryan.

"It's different because I love you," he nerved himself to say. "This isn't just a weekend thing. I really love you."

"And you're afraid it's too early to love me - after just one day?"

"I loved you in the first hour, Jeanette, the first ten minutes! But I didn't want to chase you off."

"I loved you too - right from the first... and I'm not going anywhere." She leaned into him, kissed him, stroked his chest.

"We don't have to do anything too fast," Ryan whispered. "First date and all that. We could wait..." It was a supreme effort of will. His body was aching for her.

"Ordinarily I would," she whispered, nibbling his ear, "just to prove I'm not that kind of girl. But... well..."

"Well what?" he whispered. Words were an effort now. Her hands were inside his shirt, and his breath was quickening.

"Well... this might be my only chance to make love in the clouds!"

Then she was kissing him furiously, one leg thrown over him, a hand tracing curves on his chest, his neck, the line of his jaw.

His shirt disappeared into the bed clothes, followed by his shorts a moment later. He was nearly naked now. He held her tightly, squeezed her soft, feminine warmth against his eager body. His hands traced every curve with a hungry urgency while his lips welcomed her fiery, sweet kisses.

Then she was kissing his neck, his chest. She traced his ribs with her tickling tongue and her hot breath.

He rolled to his side while she worked her way down, and she paused a moment to wriggle out of her night clothes. There was something humbling to Ryan about her simple white bra and panties, smooth and snowy, just a thin, teasing little ribbon of lace. Virginal. Beautiful. They fit her elegant, womanly curves like a second skin.

He had only a glimpse, for she had thrown back the blankets to affect her undress, and the chill of the cabin sent her diving back under the covers.

"Jeanette! Jeanette, you're so beautiful. More beautiful than anything I've ever... Let me look at you for just a moment."

She was kissing him again, almost fully on top of him now. Her kisses were ravenous, primal. He had the delirious sense of being devoured. He slid his hands into her panties. Oh God, what a perfect butt! Runner hard and woman soft all at once. He squeezed her, and crushed her pelvis into his. The feel of her tight, nearly naked body against his hard, eager cock sent a cozy electric tingle all through him.