Page 21 of Maple Kissed by the Mountain Man

“How long will the creek take to go down?”

“Depends on the rain.”

“Could it take an hour?”

“Yes.”

“Two?”

“Yes.”

“All night?”

His silence was a direct answer.

I stared at him. “Ford.”

“We aren’t crossing until the water drops.”

“We can’t spend the night in the woods.”

“Yes, we can.”

“You say that because you live here. I’m sure you’ve spent many a night communing with the wildlife.”

“I have. Now let’s go.”

I sighed, knowing I didn’t have a choice. I certainly could not cross the creek by myself. Turning, I followed him deeper into the trees.

It didn’t take long to reach whatever place he’d been hunting for. He stopped at the edge of a small clearing, keeping under the trees.

I didn’t say a word as he unslung his pack and opened the main compartment. I caught a glimpse of rolled up green fabric. I pointed at it. “Is that a tent?”

“Yes.”

“You brought a tent for a forty-five-minute photography trip?”

“I brought emergency shelter. I live on a mountain.”

“And food?” I was pretty sure he’d count protein bars as a major food group.

“Yes.”

“Dry clothes?”

“One set.” That could be interesting I thought.

I spied a small rectangular shape inside his bag. “A satellite phone?”

“Yes.”

I stared at him.

“What?” he grunted.

“Do you have a small rescue helicopter folded in there too?”

“Only on weekends.”