Travis frowned. “That’s a kind offer, but not a fair trade.”
Red threw his head back and laughed. “Don’t bow your back up, son. I didn’t mean to offend you, and this ain’t no charity, if that’s what you’re worried about. That ain’t all there is to the trading, and there ain’t no five-star hotels my way. I’m offering you a plain ol’ fried fish dinner and one night’s stay in a rickety cabin with a lumpy cot.” He grinned. “When the temperature dips back down tonight, you’ll feel like you’re sleeping on a slab of ice, and that’s after you spend the majority of today cleaning, filleting, and cooking those fish before you eat ’em.” Red’s tone was firm, but his lips twitched. “Damned shame I didn’t stumble upon you earlier, otherwise I’d have made you catch them, too. Save me the trouble.”
Travis smiled. Maybe it was Red’s friendly demeanor, or it could’ve been the way being called “son” sat well within his soul, but either way, Travis liked the idea of helping Red. He hadn’t been able to help anyone in a long time.
“In that case, I’d say it’s a fair trade, and I thank you for it.” Travis headed for the trail, asking over his shoulder, “Cooler’s at the bottom of the trail, you said?”
“Yep.” Red pointed toward a small clearing beyond the gravel path, where a blue truck was parked. “That’s me over there. I’ll load this up, and when you get back we’ll head out.”
Travis paused, a sense of dread seeping into his gut as he stared at the truck. He nodded, turned away, and walked down the path, his steps heavy and sluggish.
Gravel gave way to dirt and small rocks as the narrow hiking path curved along the steep incline of the mountain. Travis ducked beneath low-hanging limbs, stepped carefully around roots that protruded from the ground, and found the cooler sitting on a smooth rock by a wide river.
He drew to a stop near the river’s edge and inhaled the cool mist rising from the rippling water, savoring its refreshing caress on his sweat-slicked face and neck. The surrounding woods were thick, and though the path had led to a lower elevation, the sky was still visible and the same sense of peace he’d experienced higher up the mountain was palpable below as well.
“Paradise,” he whispered, weighing the word on his tongue.
The name was appropriate—this place sure looked like heaven. But somewhere on the next mountain, somewhere even higher in the town of Paradise Peak, Margaret Owens still grieved the loss of someone she’d loved. Someone he had taken from her.
Shame searing his skin, Travis grabbed the cooler, hoisted it into a firm grip, then hiked back up the path to the clearing.
Red stood by the lowered tailgate of the truck and smiled as Travis approached with the cooler. “Thanks, son.” He walked around to the driver’s side, motioning over his shoulder. “Toss it in the bed with the other and we’ll head out. You can dump your bag back there, too.”
Travis deposited the cooler, raised the truck’s tailgate, then climbed into the passenger seat. He removed his backpack and placed it in his lap, eyeing the loose seat belts strewn across the wide seat.
“You still holding tight to that bag of yours,” Red said. He smoothed his mustache and grinned. “What you got in there? Gold?”
“No.” Though the notebook paper, pens, thermos, and three changes of clothes were as valuable as gold to him. “All I own is in it.” Travis grabbed one seat belt strap and searched the bench seat for the other. “I prefer to keep it close.”
Red remained silent for a moment, then pointed to the slim crack between the back rest and leg rest of the bench seat. “Other half of that belt is probably stuck between the seats. Dig around a bit and you’ll find it.”
Thanking him, Travis did as Red suggested and found the matching strap. He shifted his backpack to the side, fastened the seat belt across his lap, and glanced at Red. “Thanks for the ride.”
“No worries,” Red said. “So long as you don’t mind riding in a throwback. This jalopy’s got some age on it, like me.” He patted the dash. “But I can’t bring myself to give her up.”
Travis looked at the cab’s old-fashioned interior. There was a wide dash trimmed with wood grain and blue paint and, from what he could tell, the old-school radio, glove compartment, and padding on the doors were all original.
“It’s a nice truck,” Travis said. “I’ve never seen a classic in as good shape as this.”
Red cranked the engine, an expression of pride crossing his face. “She’s a 1969 three-on-the-tree shifter. Two hundred and sixty thousand miles to her credit, and she still climbs these mountains like a dream. My niece has been hounding me to get rid of it for years, but I’d have to be dead for someone to pry it away. Even when I do get a new one, I won’t give her up.” He cocked his head to the side. “You’re welcome to drive us up the mountain if you’d like to test her out.”
Travis gripped the edge of his seat. “I don’t drive.”
Red’s brows rose. “Never?”
“Not anymore.”
Travis stared straight ahead as an unwelcome mantra whispered through his mind. He recalled Judge Manning’s voice as clearly as if he’d spoken the words yesterday rather than twenty years ago: “Neil Travis Alden possesses a reckless disregard for life, and as a result . . .”
Face burning, Travis swallowed hard. “Thank you for the offer though.”
Red studied him closer but didn’t comment further. A few moments later, he eased back in his seat and drove the truck onto the highway.
The climb was steep, and the engine’s rumble grew louder as the truck ascended the mountain. At first the thick tree line on both sides of the road loomed over the truck and obscured the view. Bare branches bowed low with the heavy push of wind, and brown underbrush rustled in the wake of the truck. But when the road curved upward on a sharp angle, a wooden sign, etched with PARADISE PEAK, emerged into sight. The passing trees dropped away, leaving the view to Travis’s right clear.
And, man, what a view it was.
Mountains sprawled across the open landscape, their high peaks touching the blue, misty sky, and with each mile the truck climbed, the sun grew stronger. Its powerful rays brushed the fog aside and poured golden warmth onto the paved highway, over the hood of the truck, and into the cab.
Paradise Peak had awakened.
Travis sat up straighter and craned his neck to take it all in.
“Thing of beauty, ain’t it?” Red asked.
Travis pulled in a small breath. “Like nothing I’ve ever seen.”
“We’re ’bout to hit the top and that sun’s gonna strike you right in the eyes.” Red pointed. “Flip that visor down and you’ll get a better look.”
Travis lowered the visor, his fingertips lingering on the shiny surface of a photograph attached to it. A woman smiled back at him from the picture, her auburn hair shining beneath the sun above her, her stance relaxed against the green pasture and horses grazing in the background.
But her eyes—deep blue, and wary despite her smile—held his attention. Her gaze was direct and full of distrust. It was a look he’d seen before. One that made him cringe with shame.