Hike on
Mount Shady
By Chris Owen
"Charlie! Charlie, where'd you get to?"
Hank paused next to one of many trees and looked back. He knew
exactly where he was and where he was going, but he wasn't completely
sure Charlie did. Not yet, anyway. Hank had spent his whole
life in that stand of trees; Charlie only had a year or so and
not much of it back in the woods. Hank was pretty sure he could
blindfold Charlie and put him in their front yard and trust
Charlie to find the backyard, but that wasn't the same as going
halfway up the mountain in winter, even if the mountain was
their backyard. "Charlie!"
"God, I'm right here, Hank. Don't panic." Charlie
came up the slope and around a clump of bushes, his eyes rolling.
Again. "Don't see how you can miss me." He was dressed
head to toe in hunter orange, at Hank's insistence. "Look
like a big ball of idiot."
Hank bit his lower lip. "You look like someone who won't
get shot by some yahoo out here poaching deer."
"I still don't think that the orange pants were necessary.
A vest and hat are reasonable, I'll give you that. But the jacket
and pants are just signs that you have an actual sense of humor."
Charlie stomped his way up to Hank and looked down at him. "The
fact that I actually put them on means I'm a fool for you, I
suppose. Don't tell anyone, okay?"
"Your secret is safe with me." Hank nodded solemnly,
his insides turning mushy. That secret had safely been the property
of most of Shady Ridge for more than a year; they were just
lucky that the majority of the town's population thought that
it was cute and not vile. There were some bad eggs, of course,
but aside from a few letters, a broken window, and one memorable
brawl when Charlie got hammered on free beer at the roadhouse,
they'd been mostly left in peace.
"Tell me again why we're this far up the hill?"
"It's a mountain," Hank corrected before he could
stop himself. Charlie'd figured out about a week into clearing
their plot of land that Hank had a pet peeve about tourists
calling Mount Shady a hill. He didn't say it often, and it had
taken Hank a while to figure out Charlie was pulling his leg,
but Hank had yet to learn to let it slide. "Damn it, man."
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