Off the Beaten Path (20 page)

The sun had just dropped below the snow-capped peaks off in the distance as Jack sat back into one of the chairs on the front porch. Crickets were beginning their nightly concert as Jack sat with a freshly opened bottle of beer in his left hand and the fingers of his right hand scratching the top Sam's head. He was leaning back in the rocking chair with one old work boot laid across his knee and the other boot tapping to the music of the crickets as the chair creaked back and forth on the oak boards. He was thinking about what Ben had said about not taking too long to get in the game.

Off in the distance Jack caught the clear throaty thunder of a large motorcycle engine. Sounds like the oldest Clark boy is taking his 1959 Harley Davidson Panhead out for a little stroll he thought. The roar or the classic engine in the cool night air was as comforting as the crickets chirping, and the old engine sounded exceptionally smooth tonight. Jack thought to himself with a calm smile, the cool mountain air at night made everything run better. He listened intently to the pitch of the old Harley's engine as it screamed each time the rider found a long stretch of road and the abrupt drop in RPM's when the rider came to a sharp turn. He could tell that the big bike was headed in his direction by the growing pitch of the engine and the wobbling headlight on the dirt road as it ducked in and out of the dozen or so ravines between his house and the main road. He knew that in less than five minutes the Classic Harley and its rider would fly by his front gate faster than it both of them knew he should. 

Jack could
hear a subtle difference, there seemed to be a shorter span of time between the revved engine and the drop in RPM's, the rider was in a hurry tonight to get to where he was going. 

The road in front of Jack's place one of the longest stretches of road in the valley. And even though the oldest Clark Boy knew that Jack would give him a raised eyebrow and a punitive look the next time he saw him they both knew that he would do it again, the temptation was just too great. He didn't blame him one bit.

Jack thought with a devilish smile, “Maybe I should wonder out to the front gate and flag down young mister Clark and have a little chat with him about the dangers of mixing motorcycles, dirt roads, and local wild life that liked to cross the road at night headed for the river.

Jack started to get up when he heard something that made him ease back into the old wooden rocker. As the massive motorcycle came around the last bend in the road about one quarter of a mile from his front gate the bike did not start to accelerate like it usually did, it kept a steady even pace. Maybe his previous admonitions along with the threat of telling the boy’s father had finally done the trick.

Jack found himself thinking again how smooth the bike sounded tonight, the kid must have just tuned her up. When the motorcycle was about thirty feet from his front gate the engine wound down to a slow idle the brake lights came on and the rider swung the bike into Jack's front yard. When the bike came to a stop he heard the engine die and the kickstand fold down with a snap as it hit the dirt. Jack stood up as the rider climbed off the bike and pulled off his helmet. From the curve of the leathers and the stance of the rider he knew immediately that it was most definitely not a he. Then he heard a familiar voice ask, “Got any vacancies?”

The first sound Kristin heard as she pulled the covers down off of her head and slowly looked around the room was the bark of a dog. Her first semiconscious sensation was an emotion that made the word satisfied sound trivial. She reached back in her memory, she could not ever remember being go relaxed and content. She could remember wanting desperately to feel the way she felt at this very moment but Kristin could not actually recall if she had ever achieved this level of …... bliss. The first word she whispered only loud enough for herself to hear was “Sam”. The first movement of her body was when she stretched both of her arms out from under the covers like she was reaching for out for the impossible and when the tips of her fingers touched the shiny rails of the brass bed she grabbed on to them tightly and arched her entire body upward under the covers until she felt that her back would snap out of place.

Kristin was naked under the covers, and with a devious sentience of amusement she remembered that not more than four hours ago she had been in this exact same position, probably with the exact same satisfied smile on her face. She could still recall every detail about that precise moment, the tension of every muscle in body, the smell of his cologne, and the look in his eyes. A look that blocked out everything else in the world. A look that made everything else both meaningful and meaningless. She thought back over the last few hours and relived every emotion and sensation in a single radiant moment. A sensation that made her breath catch in her throat and her entire buddy
shudder. When the feeling subsided back to mere satisfaction she forced herself to think about how this was possible.

What made Jack so different than any other man she had ever been with? The thought tugged at her mind like a memory you couldn't quite recall even though you knew it would come to you if you just thought hard enough or not at all. She closed her eyes and completely relaxed. What was it about Jack Evans that made her consider the possibility that she could stay in this bed, in this house, and in this valley for the rest of her life. That she could and would give up everything that she had worked so hard to achieve.

She snapped back to consciousness when she heard Sam bark again, Kristin knew that the answer would come to her when she least expected it. She threw the covers back and slid her naked body out of bed and walked to the huge bay window. Kristin stood dead center in the middle of the window completely at ease and completely naked. The bright sunlight caressed her body like a warm bath as a tear rolled slowly down her right cheek. Standing there in full sight of the whole world she didn't just feel confident, she felt invincible.

After a few minutes she realized that she hadn't eaten since late yesterday afternoon and she was starving. She spun away from the window and grabbed the first article of clothing that her gaze fell on, one of Jack's western cut ranch shirts.

As Kristin descended the stairs wearing nothing but Jack's old work shirt and a pair of snow white ankle socks Sam sat up and barked once as if announcing her presence. Her tail was wagging at a furious pace as she bolted up the stairs to greet Kristin. It was as if Sam had been warned to wait patiently downstairs and not disturb Kristin until she was awake, like a kid on Christmas morning who had been told that she couldn't open any Christmas presents until the last person had come downstairs on Christmas morning.

Jack heard the bark and had turned to look just as Sam reached Kristin on the stairs. He stared at her breathlessly and totally forgot
the pan full of bacon that was about to burn on the stove. Kristin crossed the hard wood floor with Sam in tow and pinned Jack against the fridge with her entire body. She pressed every inch of her five foot ten inch frame against him and kissed him like they hadn't seen each other in years. When she finally pulled away from him she looked deviously into his eyes and whispered, “Your about to burn the bacon, cowboy.”

Just before he kissed her again he smiled and said, “let it burn.'

Kristin broke off the kiss as she turned him toward the stove. She gave him a little shove in the direction of her potentially Cajun blackened Breakfast. She snarled at him, “You won't get a tip with service like that,”

He looked over his shoulder and shot back a wink in her direction.

As Jack put the finishing touches on their breakfast he casually asked Kristin to get down a couple of plates form the top shelf of the cabinet. After she had retrieved the two plates he asked her to grab a couple more plates. Kristin stood there with the plates in hand and an odd questioning look on her face. The devious smile was back, it was spreading across Jack's face. Kristin realized that he had been watching her, watching her stand up on the very tips of her toes to reach the plates, watching his work shirt slide up the back of her long toned legs and barely cover the delicate area where her legs stopped and the rest of her perfect form began. She blushed and made a motion like she was going to throw one of the plates at him. Jack turned back toward the stove without a trace of apology or fear and said,

“Hey, you can't blame a guy for trying.”

Jack placed a couple dirty utensils in the sink as he glanced out the kitchen window at the shiny black and chrome Harley Davidson soft tail custom parked in his front yard and asked, “Just buy that?”

“No, I have had it for a couple years, it’s been in storage.” she responded casually.

They ate breakfast and talked like they she had never left the ranch. Like she had not gone back to Seattle, like he had not followed her, and most importantly, as if the two of them were not about to go to war with one of the most talented and vindictive defense attorney's on the west coast.

Kristin noticed Jack eying her shiny Harley all during their breakfast on the porch. After about the hundredth time she caught him looking at the bike she asked,

“Want to take her for a spin?”

Jack's eyes lit up and he looked like a kid that had just been given a new bike for Christmas.

“One condition, I go along” She said.

“Wouldn't have it any other way, I'll go pack a lunch.” Jack said as he sprang out of his chair and headed for the kitchen.

Thirty minutes later they were pulling out of Jack's driveway with a sack lunch in one of the saddle bags and a blanket, her camera, and a 22 magnum pistol in the other saddle bag. Not everyone was happy about the road trip; they had left Sam sitting on the front porch looking at them like she had been abandon. They took it slow and easy on the dirt road on their way back to the paved two lane highway. When they reached the intersection where the gravel road ended and they turned right and headed north up Hwy 200.

They were about a mile north of the intersection when the 1994 Ford F150 turned off the highway and onto the dirt road they had just
left behind. The truck fit in as natural as any other truck in the valley, it had Montana plates and a U of M Grizzlies bumper sticker on the tailgate. The problem was, the driver was not from Montana and the truck had been stolen from a remote twenty acre ranch on the outskirts of a little hick town just off of I-90.

The driver was pretty sure that the pickup would not be reported stolen. The old guy that owned the truck had greeted the man on his front porch with a 12 gauge shotgun and a snarling mean as hell looking Rottweiler. The old guy and the dog were currently resting comfortably in the basement of his old broken down house. They would both be resting there for quite a while; they each had a bullet hole in their head. The old guy with the 12 gauge didn't appear to be the sort of guy that had a lot of visitors. Hell, it might be years before anyone discovered the bodies. Just to make sure the killer had drove his own car a mile or two off the main road and completely covered the silver BMW with weeds and branches. He hiked back to the old guys house made himself a nice lunch and drove off toward his assignment in the old Ford pickup.

Kristin had never been in this position before, riding on the back of her own motorcycle with her arms wrapped around someone she trusted. She didn't even own a second helmet; Jack had insisted that she wear the helmet that she had brought with her. They made a quick stop at Rosie's cafe so Rosie could give Kristin a hug and a kiss as well as a couple fresh pastries for their sack lunch.

They pulled out of Rosie's diner and Jack gunned the Harley like a teenager showing off for his girlfriend. The bike fishtailed a little and the back tire barked a low howl as it left a shiny black tire mark on the old highway. The calculated move had its desired effect. Kristin squeezed him tighter around the waist and pressed the side of her face to the back of Jack's neck, boy did he smell great she thought as a smile spread across her entire face.

Rosie stood outside the diner and watched the two grown adults acting like a couple of love sick teenagers roll around the long bend in the road and out of sight. She could still hear the roar of the engine on the big bike for a good minute or two after they had disappeared around the corner. And from the sound of the engine Jack had no intention of slowing down or taking it easy today.

They rolled through the valley until they reached the intersection of Hwy 200 and Hwy 83. They turned left on highway 83 and pointed the Harley North. Highway 83 ran through the Seeley-Swan valley and parallel to the Flathead National Forest and some of the most majestic
pine forest in the United States. Highway 83 emptied out onto Hwy 93 just south of Kalispell Montana at Columbia Falls Montana.

Jack's plan was to take Hwy 83 North to Kalispell Montana then turn back on Hwy 93 toward Missoula. Highway 93 would take them south along the West Shore of Flathead Lake. He would show her Wild horse island and the Mission mountains north of Missoula. From there they would head back up Hwy 200 along the Blackfoot river, the road that had led her straight into Jack's life. It would take them all day to complete this little road trip and they would get back well after dark depending on how many stops they made.

Jack thought that the Road trip was exactly what they both needed to clear their heads and figure out what they needed to do next. Kristin didn't care what road they took as long as she held onto Jack and this feeling of quite calm. A calm that she felt from the low roar of the engine, the smooth vibration of the highway between her legs, and the strength of the man she had her arms wrapped around.