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  At first, Jade thought about how ridiculous the boys were being. They obviously wanted to travel on the balloon. They probably thought it would be fun, damned the consequences. But then she looked at her poor, blustered, filthy feet and then back from where she had come. No truck, tractor, or pushcart had appeared in all this time. She doubted if much of anything ever came this way. How was she to get back to civilization in her current walking condition?

  Thus, when she reached them she held her arms up high so that she could be lifted into the basket. All this travel cross-country had defeated her sense. She did not care what her next predicament would be — just as long as she no longer had to walk on her aching feet.

  “What are you doing, Jade?” Maria asked, and then decided not to bother to wait for an answer. “Oh, what the hell,” she acquiesced, because Maria did not care to be left behind alone. The men lifted them into the basket after the balloon had already gone up a couple of feet.

  Jade took a deep breath as she lifted her legs over the railing and safely to the base of the basket. She looked up just in time to see the burner flame up to send the envelope of the balloon higher. The burner flamed in a variety of colors, from bright yellow to fiery red, like a rainbow of sizzling colors, but the orange segment sent her eyes bugging, almost freaking her out right there and then. There’s something about that color that she just couldn’t handle. She couldn’t stare at an orange fruit, for instance, without wanting to run for cover. Even peaches frightened her a bit. Had she been in a fire when she was a baby, causing this irrational fear?

  Something slapped her in the head and ass. “Wear them for protection,” said the little mustached pilot. He looked to see heavy-duty gloves and a long-sleeved dumpy sweatshirt at her feet.

  She donned the clothes even though she looked like a petite lumberjack and felt like a stuffed animal. Nevertheless, they did give her the comfort of safety even as the balloon climbed, and the wind escalated.

  Burner blaring. Skirt and envelope of the big balloon like a delicate blimp. Basket wobbly when the wind howled but the parachute valve flapping to settle the wind. She felt it all. She experienced exhilaration!

  But there was one thing still trying: her feet now felt chilled!

  Jade looked down at flatlands, hundreds of feet below her. Only hours earlier she had been driving in a smelly, shitty vehicle. She had been dirty, grimy, and frankly pissed off. Now she loved life. Although she disliked her grubby face, her lumberjack clothes, and especially her cold feet, she could deal with it up in the air where everything was open, expansive, and beautiful.

  On the other side of the basket, Bobarino was not feeling her exhilaration. Instead, he was puking over the side of the balloon. Yep, those Italians showed bravado on the outside but were actually wimps. Except that Bobarino’s smaller Italian clone captained the balloon expertly, opening up the propane valve just enough to coast upwards at a steady rate.

  Meanwhile, George didn’t move at all. He was standing exactly in the center of the basket, frozen like an ice sculpture. He gazed straight, eyes level, barely blinking. After watching him perform this balancing act for many minutes, she had to ask: “What are you doing, George?”

  “Scared of heights,” he managed to whimper. “Didn’t realize how bad till now. Thought I could handle this.”

  “Weren’t you gung ho on taking this hot air balloon ride?”

  “Yeah,” was all he replied.

  The last “man” on the boat seemed to feel the opposite of his friend. Kenny jogged a few steps around the outskirts of the basket, patting each corner as he passed. “What are you doing, Kenny?” Jade asked him, not sure if she really wanted to know.

  “I’m the Flash!”

  Men: how pathetic!

  He stopped jogging a moment. “Oh, just kidding,” continued Kenny. He must have noticed her incredulous face. “Just getting my juices flowing and keeping warm.”

  Jade dismissed him then, believing that his first answer was the real one. Instead, she looked for Maria and found her sitting near the propane tanks, gazing fervently at the passing clouds, which seemed more in line with her more quelled exhilaration.

  “Can you believe this? Would you have expected a few days ago that we’d be flying through the sky?” Maria asked her.

  “It’s been wild,” Jade replied.

  “And may get wilder,” the captain said. “Look at those clouds rolling in.”

  “Figures,” both she and Maria said at the same time, not yet coming to the realization of just how dangerous this most recent development could be. Subsequently it dawned on her, busting her exhilarated state. She eyed the threatening clouds before cowering next to Maria at the base of the basket. Meanwhile George remained frozen, Bobarino puked bigger chunks, and Kenny’s Flash impersonation quickly changed from a pseudo flash of speed to fearful looks for flashes of lightning.

  The winds picked up and the balloon glided in whatever direction the gusts carried it. A drizzle started, drops reaching Jade at a sideways angle, seemingly always finding her eyes before she could blink, which made her tear up like a crying baby.

  “Was this in the Jules Verne novel?” Kenny asked.

  “Weren’t they in Africa or something?” the captain asked.

  “Don’t you have a balloon to pilot?” Jade implored.

  The captain smiled. His stupid mustache creased in such a way that it reminded Jade of an old episode of Magnum P.I. if Tom Selleck had turned into a Munchkin with a crooked face.

  “This will be fun,” the mouth underneath that mustache yelped.

  Bobarino’s stomach could not be happy.

  Kenny glowered at what he thought was a flash of lightning.

  Maria coiled where she sat.

  George’s frozen limbs became colder.

  Jade looked at everyone with discomfort and concern.

  Chapter 15

  Before the Big Day

  Freckles had two days before he could execute his plan. He had to wait until Harrison went to town for equipment and could make good on his fishing trip excuse to Lana, who was not privy to their plans, for she would certainly curtail them. Pebbles would be coming along, however.

  In the meantime, Freckles didn’t know what to do with his time. He couldn’t torment the cat because he needed to keep her on his side. Thus, he offered his best behavior around the cat. Likewise, he did not want to antagonize Harrison, either, even though he doubted that the man could be concerned by anyone other than his wife since he was a typical selfish human. Nevertheless, he could not bark, chase squirrels, mind his territory around the house, or jump on any furniture. Also, if he ventured too far beyond their property, he might be tempted to enact part of his plan early, possibly allowing the marten to figure it out. The marten might creep around the house in the next few days, but Freckles had to mind his business and not let the critter get to him, lest it fathom or ruin his plans.

  Thus, all he could do was sleep, eat, and sniff familiar objects. How boring!

  “Oh, husband, dear,” Lana said with a sarcastic tone on the second morning of Freckle’s boredom. “I am going to do some gardening. If you’re going to mow the lawn, please do so away from the garden.” The dog believed this comment to be a joke since he’d never seen the old man ever mow the lawn. Usually they hired some kid to do it.

  “Oh, so you’re daring me to mow the lawn this morning,” Harrison yelled back. Of course, he would retort in that way. He often took whatever Lana said as a challenge, but then forgot about it moments later. Since he dismissed the idea that Harrison would mow the lawn, Freckles’ boredom would continue. The dog, however, still held hope that Harrison might mow, beyond all expectation, because entertainment would indubitably follow.

  The dog lay down then, not tired but unable to think of anything better to do.

  Then a small miracle happened. The Rottweiler heard a noise, and not one from the woods. And not the typical yelling between bickering humans, either. Not even the meow
ing of his new friend, Pebbles. No—instead, he heard the lawn mower come to life.

  The sound was quickly followed by hollers: “Oww!” and “My finger!” and “Dammit!” Subsequently, the exciting din of the lawn mower went still.

  “What happened, dear?” Lana said, surprisingly without sarcasm.

  “Hurt my little pinky on that stupid pulley thing,” Harrison replied like a child.

  Freckles was unimpressed with the conversation, so remained lying down until the heavenly sound of the mower roared to life once again. He jumped up then. Boredom averted!

  But the mower died again. “Dammit!”

  “Hurt your little pinky again, honey?” the sarcasm coming back into Lana’s voice.

  “No, just stopped going,” the old man said, exasperated. “I’ve been pulling that pulley thingy again and again, but I can’t get it started. And I got to get the lawn mowed before Dara gets here. She won’t like the way the lawn looks now.”

  Lana showed concern then. Freckles knew the look she gave. Her mouth clenched like a bear might as it rummaged through garbage, her eyes tensed like a fox did when it spotted a brave Rottweiler, and her nose twitched like Freckles did when a fly landed on his nose. “Dara’s not coming,” and then she paused before deciding to continue. “She hasn’t been here in years. Since that stupid fight.” Freckles waited for the insult that usually accompanied this type of talk with her husband, but it did not come. The concern in her eyes was replaced with a sullen sadness.

  “I called her,” Harrison said with some seriousness. “That stupid boyfriend is long gone. She told me. She’s coming.”

  “Really—you really called, Harry? Just like that? You swallowed your pride and now all is forgiven?”

  “Sometimes you have to do what you have to do to rectify the silliness.” Although the words were not profound at all, this might have been the smartest thing Freckles had ever heard Harrison say. Usually, the dog’s caretaker was bullheaded, as humans were, but sometimes he could surprise. This surprise had taken two years to happen, but Harrison had finally smartened up.

  “Really?” Lana repeated, a question that implied that she didn’t believe him. “Well,” she transitioned, “the lad that usually does the lawn sometimes presses a button on the side of the mower before starting it. Try that.” No sarcasm. No cruel wit. Odd.

  “Yeah, and Rags is coming, too. I can’t wait to wrestle with that Saint Bernard. I remember doing so when I was a lad. Used to tumble around like sticks on charcoal, but neither of us ever got hurt. Lucky, we sure were.” Well, Harrison seemed to be going off the deep end again. He seemed to think he was a boy again, at least on some level. Poor senile old man.

  Lana didn’t comment, but a worried expression enveloped her face.

  “This new Rags Dara has should be great. Don’t know if he’s a Saint Bernard, but I can always hope,” Harrison continued. Freckles had mixed feelings. He was glad that his caretaker was talking sensibly again, but the Rottweiler wondered if the Rags of years gone by was the only dog Harrison had ever truly cared about.

  “Really?” Lana said a third time but did not press her husband after she saw him fumbling with the lawn mower again.

  After a minute of mishandling the mower and saying, “No, don’t see it” and “Is that the button?” and “Maybe that’s it” supplemented with another “Oww!” Freckles knew that things were back to normal. Afterward, he heard the roar of the motor for a third time. This time the din remained.

  The dog knew then that more fun would ensue. These humans were nothing if not entertaining in a dimwitted sort of way, even after some intelligence peeked through, so he ran over to Harrison to see what the next commotion would bring.

  ‘You actually are mowing the lawn then?” Lana asked, shouting at her husband even though he seemed to be working for once. “If so, pull some weeds, too. Can you arrange that, Husband?”

  “Woman, give me a break!” Harrison yelled just as loudly as his wife. Those humans never stopped bickering for long.

  Harrison produced a weed whacker he must have retrieved from the shed so that he could cut the weeds where the mower could not. “It’s not you, Wife, who got me to do this. I just need some practice with this thing.”

  Freckles thought about what the whacky old man was saying. Why would he practice with something he rarely cared to use? Had he decided that caring for the lawn would be his new hobby? That didn’t sound like him, though; it involved work.

  The dog contemplated longer, still keeping alert for Harrison to come his way with the weed whacker or mower. That old man was liable to accidentally take out an ear. After all, he was currently swinging the whirring weed whacker like a sword.

  Then Freckles reasoned why Harrison was operating the weed whacker. He was trying to see whether or not that would be the weapon of choice against the pine marten. Harrison was preparing for the showdown: The Grand Fetcher Escapade: The Ultimate Chase.

  Satisfied with this conclusion and proud of Harrison’s dedication to defeating the marten, Freckles decided to check up on the cat to see if she was as devoted to the plan as the old man. The dog strode back into the house through the open door. At least one fly followed him inside.

  Lana must have seen him because she yelled out, “Hubby, you left the screen ajar again. Shut it before bugs and vermin infest this place.” If her words sounded mean-spirited, her tone expressed even more disdain.

  Freckles didn’t hear Harrison’s reply over the delightfully loud purring of the weed whacker. He always had a hankering towards melodic buzzing sounds, and the weed whacker fit that mode. On the other hand, Lana didn’t seem so thrilled by it, because she continued, “Just turn that damned thing off for a minute and go close that screen door.”

  In his doggy manner, Freckles shook his head. Couldn’t they stop squabbling just this once? Normally he thought the humans’ squabbling to be funny, but not when Harrison was doing something for the dog, so the Rottweiler set his own course of action. With his nose, he pushed at the edge of the screen, propelling it into motion. Carefully he moved the screen shut, only losing his nose grip once during the feat.

  Meanwhile, the weed whacker remained purring. Harrison had no intention of shutting it down. Moments later, Lana stormed into the kitchen ready to scream some more, when she saw that the screen was shut thanks to the Rottweiler. Perplexed but calming, she moved on. Thus, for the moment, the bickering stopped, to Freckle’s relief.

  He trotted on to find the cat. Where was that kitty? Didn’t she know that she didn’t need to hide now that they were on this temporary truce? Freckles shrugged, doggy shoulders aloft, no longer wanting to guess at the thoughts of felines.

  Then, suddenly, Pebbles jumped on top of him from underneath the blanket hanging above the crown of the couch. To say that Freckles was startled was an understatement. Never before had any animal, let alone a cat, attacked him. He yelped in response, louder as the cat’s claws dug into him. What had gotten into this fiendish feline?

  Not much caring about the answer, only wishing the pain away, the dog shook the cat off. Pebbles flew across the room and into a wall. Luckily her cat reflexes allowed her to bounce off the wall with her bottom, do a somersault in the air, and land on the floor on her feet. She didn’t stop with that, either, immediately running like a train, claw tracks in the rug.

  Freckles stared disbelievingly as Pebbles nearly smashed into the opposite wall, narrowly missing it in favor of the hallway. The cat zigzagged down the hallway like a snake playing with a slinky. Afterward, she disappeared through the bedroom door and underneath the humans’ bed.

  The dog went to investigate the blanket from where the cat had leapt, and the mystery of the crazy cat was solved. Lying beside the blanket was a scrunched up hairball laced with catnip. Pebbles must have been testing the catnip in preparation for tomorrow’s big face-off with the marten.

  Freckles grinned. His accomplices were taking his plan seriously. They would be ready. He cert
ainly would be, too.

  Chapter 16

  The Ranger

  He knew it was inevitable.

  Without fail he always ended up here—and usually driving on this very road. And it wasn’t like they were traveling down a big highway, like 80 or 90 or even 25. No, it was RT 20 that summoned him, whether entering from the Idaho or Nebraska side.

  So, with a mix of emotions, Hippie stared at the sign, which he had seen so many times: WELCOME TO WYOMING.

  Now, if he happened to like traveling this way, perhaps to explore the woodsy vitality of Yellowstone Park, he wouldn’t mind. But he had explored Yellowstone on many occasions (as well as all the rest of Wyoming). He would rather be elsewhere—even New Jersey!

  Plus, besides the obvious inevitability of it, he hadn’t known that Maude was heading here, at least until the landscapes of Idaho became familiar. Yes, potato fields could become distinguishable after seeing them so much.

  Yet, for all its tediousness, Hippie still enjoyed Wyoming. After all, he knew many of the restaurants, for he had been hired to cook for many dives and pubs of Wyoming. During his drifting and working, he had encountered many fine Wyomians, from lumberjacks to dishwashers, from hillbillies to rangers, from grease monkeys to musicians—all unique, mostly friendly, and rarely disingenuous.

  Still, Maude would not disclose the full reason for them coming here, although he was certain that it had to do with the somewhat guiltless but still illegal activities at Lake Tahoe. And surprisingly, neither Carolyn nor Jim (who still followed them in his pickup) seemed to mind making this trip. He didn’t know why. Didn’t they have a life to go home to? Yet, he didn’t want to pry too deeply into their purposes for coming. Although he suspected their motives, he would let it play out as it may.

  Maude suddenly pulled the 4X4 over to the side, caroming off the road like a pigeon attempting to escape from a New York City cab. “Okay, lady, here’s where you get off.”