Category:

Shivers traveled up and down his spine. When he’d decided to spend his summer months exploring the areas where renowned paleontologist Charles Walcott uncovered the first known findings of two new species of fish, he hadn’t expected to locate such an amazing piece of history on his very first day in Cañon City. Surely, his decision to come here was Spirit-inspired. 

Hugging the bone to his chest, he turned to Jennie. “Where did you find this?”

“I didn’t. My daddy’s dog carried it home one day.” 

His elation plummeted.

“But my daddy might have some idea where it came from.” A hint of sadness shadowed her eyes, but then she blinked and the expression cleared. “He and Rex—that’s the dog—used to walk all over the hills around here.” 

Excitement stirred anew. “Do you suppose he’d show me?” 

She looked aside. “No, he wouldn’t show you.” She faced him again, shrugging. “But if he describes the area, I could probably find it.” 

Was she offering to help him? He leaned forward slightly. “I would appreciate that very much.” 

She stared at him for several seconds, uncertainty warring with some other emotion he couldn’t define in her expression. She brought up her feet and stood in a smooth motion, as graceful as a ballerina. Balanced on top of the pipe, she gazed down at him. “But I can’t take you to talk to my daddy until I finish my route.” 

He had no idea what route she meant, but he would wait no matter how long it took. “I’ll go with you.” He swallowed. “That is, if you don’t mind.” 

For the first time, a hint of a smile appeared on her heart-shaped face. “I don’t mind.” Then teasing danced in her eyes. “Try to keep up, college boy.” 

CHAPTER TWO 

Jennie 

Jennie peeked over her shoulder. Although the base of the ravine now rested in full shadow, she spotted the college boy trailing her. Pretty far behind, but within sight. She wouldn’t criticize him for it, though. He was walking on the sloped, slippery, rocky bank of the river. It was easier going for her on top of the pipe, and his arms were full with the old bone. Funny how he carried it. The way mamas cradled their sleeping babies. He’d probably slip less if he put it over his shoulder because he’d be better able to see his feet. She’d suggested as much a half mile back, but he shook his head and insisted he was fine. She reckoned a college boy had enough sense to choose for himself, so she’d shrugged and kept going.

Although they hadn’t done much talking, it was nice to have company. When he’d appeared in front of her, she thought maybe God heard and answered her prayer for a friend. But he hadn’t hopped off that train for her—he only wanted to know about the bone. She snorted under her breath. Since when did God answer her prayers? She should’ve known better. Shouldn’t have gotten her hopes up even for a few seconds. But at least today she wasn’t all alone on her route. 

She looked back again. He’d fallen even farther behind. His pants were crumpled from mid-thigh to mid-calf where they’d dried, but the bottom six inches of his pant legs were soaked and sticking to his ankles. His foot slid from the rock and went into the water. When he pulled it out, mud clung to the sole. He shook his foot, but only a few chunks dropped off. Jennie tsk-tsked, staring in dismay at his feet. He might never get all the muck off his once shiny patent-leather lace-up boots. He really needed to walk on the pipe instead. 

Although she was already behind schedule and Mama would worry if she didn’t get home at her usual time, she sat and waited for him to catch up. When he was close enough to hear her voice above the river’s raucous song, she cupped her hands beside her mouth and hollered, “Climb up here on the pipe. You’ll stay dry that way.” 

He staggered up the steep embankment and squinted at her. “Um, no, thank you. You might be half mountain goat, but I’m not.” 

His sour expression tickled her. She couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Clearly not, considering how wobbly you are on the rocks.” She stuck out her hand. “Give me the bone. Then duck under the pipe. It’s a shorter reach from the other side since the ground slopes up. Trust me, you’ll be able to walk easier on the pipe.” 

He seemed to measure the distance from the ground to her perch, his face set in a doubtful scowl. “Are you sure it’ll hold my weight? I’ve never seen a pipe made from wood before. If there are rotten places, it could collapse and send both of us into the river.” 

Was he really concerned about her getting hurt? The thought warmed her more than the sun’s rays had at noontime. “It won’t collapse. My daddy walked it every day for years, and he’s heavier than you. Besides, this pipe’s made from redwood.” She gave it several pats. “Redwood doesn’t rot, swell, or shrink.” That’s what one of the waterway men had told her family, as prideful as if he’d been the one to create the trees himself. “It’s safer up here than it is down on those rocks. So come on up.” She bobbed her hand, inviting him to give her the bone.