Rendezvous at Grand Lake
I was awake in Amelia's bed in Steamboat Springs, feeling groggy from too much travel and too much excitement in too few days. Domestic noises were coming from the kitchen and I thought about my two companions and the funny phone call with New York last night.
I stumbled to the kitchen. They looked up at me in the doorway, shook their heads, and returned to intense conversation about the computer changeover.
I walked back to the bedroom with a steaming cup of coffee. Sipping carefully, I told myself it was time to deal with a problem I had been ignoring for too long. We were understaffed for the shift from Seattle to Nampa, and other changes we had in mind, such as a new executive location in Denver. We had too few boots on the ground, to use a Marine term.
Maybe I should visit Richard. My favorite mountain man, and former Marine, was a person of few words, but always well chosen. With water and crunch bars in my fanny pack, I could jog to his place on the side of the mountain in less than an hour, and needed the exercise anyway.
A couple of kisses and I was out the door into a cool, sunny morning. I tried to collect my thoughts, hoping that a runner's high and its juices would rescue my woolly head. Seven years back, just before my tour in Iraq ended, we had been out on patrol when the lead vehicle triggered an IED and went cartwheeling into the roadside brush. Richard ended up in my arms, his right foot smashed and bleeding. As we waited for a medevac, I stopped the bleeding and stabilized the broken mess of his ankle, keeping him talking and thankfully out of shock. We were both Colorado skiers and I kept ski conversation going until a stretcher arrived.
Six months later, we were out of the military, except that he was in rehab at the VA center in Denver, his foot and ankle full of metal plates and pins. I learned this after he tracked me down and sent a thank you email. Instead of responding, I drove from Steamboat, where I had landed a job as an instructor, to see him in the hospital.
We shook hands and he grumped about still being in a wheelchair. "They won't let me walk on it yet. Afraid with all my weight, I'll pop the screws."
I thought fast and said, "When they let you out of here, would you consider coming to Steamboat Springs and keeping me company while you work that into shape?"
At first, he said no, but I kept after him, saying the cabin I was renting was fine for two guys, the mountain air would do him good, and after a while, some cross-country skiing would be a low impact way to get back in condition.
Neither of us was very easy to get along with, full of anger about lost buddies and a lost war in Iraq. One night, we got towering drunk and swore to put the war and the Marines behind us and find new things to do. I fell into my market work because of a skier I helped on the mountain one day, but Richard went his own way. His disability check wasn't all that much, but I always dodged his offers of rent, and his lifestyle slipped more and more into mountain man mode. He let his beard and hair go, bought down vests and canvas great coats, and found a giant black cowboy hat that made him look truly impressive walking down the street, or climbing through the trees on his skins.
I ran into Amelia and realized romance in the cabin wasn't going to work, so found a place in town. Richard tried to pay me again, but I refused, telling him free housing was part of rehab. As soon as the money was there from trading, I bought the place and some acreage around it. And sent serious cross-country clients to him for personal instruction.
One Friday night, I discovered he was taking classes in digital media at the community college, and decided to offer some practical experience helping Amelia. She was nervous about this enormous shaggy man being in her house, but his quick mind soaked up details of her work like a sponge.
One night, as we snuggled in her bed after some loving, I said, "Richard is doing good work, isn't he?"
"Yes, his classes and his experience with me have given him very marketable skills. Do you want me to refer him to some of my friends?"
"I'm not sure. He is still struggling with the effects of Iraq. I'll talk to him."
She threw a leg over me and said in a low voice, "You know, Lucas, when he gets close, I have this vision of being grabbed and carried off. Do we need to find a girlfriend?"
"Carried off, eh? Locked in the tower on top of the mountain?"
I was very stiff and she didn't mind being taken again, calling me names, twisting in my arms, and coming hard.
Wrapped in my embrace, she twitched and murmured, "Can't I have just a few fantasies?"
I puffed up the hill to Richard's place, smiling to myself about how essential he had become to our technical support. His giant frame was in the side yard with rounds of wood, striking impressive blows with the splitting maul.
"Lucas! What brings you out on the nice morning like this?"
"Need to talk, can you take a break?"
He went inside and returned with two beers. "This will help your ski conditioning." His laughter went out across the yard. We didn't ski much together because I was wedded to downhill and he liked his cross country. Once in a while, we would try the lifts together, where he almost kept up with me using incredible telemark technique.
"Marine, I need some help. Money is rolling in and there are new hires. But the technical side is understaffed, and I can't recruit just anybody. What about giving me twenty or thirty hours a week of very private help?"
There was a long pause as he took another drag on the beer and stared at me.
"You trying to blast a hole in my lifestyle? Like you did finding Claire?"
I laughed. "Yes, absolutely. Is she still sharing a bed with you?"
"Lucas, that is one independent woman! And loves to roam these hills. After a couple of hikes, she made dinner here and said it was time to find out how compatible we were."
"I see you together at events, so the answer must be yes."
"You ever have a woman attack you with that look in her eyes that says, "Take me if you can?"
"The furniture must be suffering."
"Oh man. We have this game we play. Stalking and trapping. And sex..."
"Maybe I have to hire Claire too. You ever heard of Nampa?"
"Sure, my dad used to drive trains on the UP. Main line railroad town."
"Good. My operation is building a data center there. Very quietly. Very privately. I need your kind of help and I pay well."
"I like to save my pennies over the summer. You can have about as much time as you need between now and snow. After that, not so much."
I chugged the rest of my beer and feinted with him. He landed some and I landed some. Just as well we were not on active duty.
"Come to dinner tonight. Bring Claire if she is interested. She can keep a secret or two?"
"Yes, but she's picky. Hates the NSA. Better ask her first."
Mely and Catherine were pleased when I showed up with my latest news. "Lucas, we get to meet Shaggy Dog's girlfriend!"