Home > A Bridge Between Us(3)

A Bridge Between Us(3)
Author: K.K. Allen

The hunter emerged from the woods and stepped into the tall dried grass, which just reached his eyes. His heavy breathing slowed as he paused and scanned his surroundings. A second later, he saw her again, just as he knew he would.

She was trudging across his line of vision a safe distance away from spotting him when she stopped and glanced over her shoulder to see if the boy was still following her. He was, begrudgingly so, but his presence only added to the hunter’s frustration. Besides the fact that she had wandered too far, her dad would have her head if he ever found out who she was hanging around with.

Camila had only ever traveled to the hilltop alone, and she had already gotten too close for comfort. She had no business traipsing around land she didn’t own, especially when her father owned plenty.

That land belonged to the hunter. And he would do whatever it took to keep it.

 

 

3

 

 

Camila

 

 

Summers in Telluride had always been beautiful. When the trees were full, the crops were just starting to dry out, and the lakes and creeks were perfect for cooling off. That time of year was also when it felt safest to trespass through Farmer Cross’s land, since the corn stalks hid me from view.

I whipped left down a row of corn and moved faster, my dark hair blowing behind me, as I sped down the route I’d run hundreds of times before. Not until I’d reached the end of the path and stopped to turn around did I notice Ridge following not too far behind. He looked breathless and still confused, but the spark in his eyes filled my chest with hope.

“See?” I said around heavy breaths. “No harm. We’re on public land again. And now we can go up there.” I turned and pointed to the rocky mountain in front of us then swiveled my head back around to catch his reaction.

His eyes were glued to the top of the six-hundred-foot-tall mountain. From the angle he was looking at it from, it looked nearly impossible to climb. I waved him forward. The less time he thought about the arduous climb, the better it would be on his psyche.

“Unless you’re going to try to stop me again?” I arched an eyebrow and waited for him to meet my threatening stare.

When he shook his head, I smiled. “C’mon. I’ll show you the trail.”

I stomped through a section of public land filled with light brush until we reached the other side of the rock, where the incline looked much less intimidating. I hopped into my next step, feeling giddy that I had company on what used to be a solo jaunt to the top of the cliff.

The hike wasn’t at all as steep as it looked from the front, and it only took a few minutes to reach the top. Once we were there, I walked Ridge out to the large bristlecone pine tree, its bald branches thick and twisty. The tree was the strangest, most beautiful one I’d ever seen, with its large roots the size of elephant trunks and its only remaining needles visible at the very top. I’d spent hours against the massive trunk.

I spun and raised my arms to the sky, happy to be back in my element. Though I tried to come as often as I could sneak away from the vineyard, I couldn’t make it every day, every week, or even every season. My freedom usually came when my parents were busy hosting a wine tasting or giving visitors tours of the vineyard and they left me alone for hours.

“Isn’t this amazing?” I asked Ridge when I stopped spinning.

He didn’t answer me. His eyes were on the edge of the cliff ahead of us.

When he started to step forward, I wrapped my hand around his wrist and squeezed. “Stop!”

He didn’t pull his arm away that time, but he frowned when he looked at me as if to ask, “Why?”

“We can’t go any closer to the edge, or someone could spot us.”

His eyebrows pinched together even more.

I explained to him that the hilltop and some of the surrounding land was public property that overlooked both Bell and Cross farmland—cornfield and vineyard—with patches of government-owned property around us.

The hilltop was my sanctuary and my favorite spot in all of Telluride. It showcased the beauty of the land below while making me feel like I was on top of the world. But getting a closer view meant risking getting caught.

I searched Ridge’s eyes, wondering how much he knew about our families and their ongoing feud. He hadn’t been in Telluride long, but his pointing the shotgun at my head back at the bridge showed he already knew how territorial our fathers got about their properties. While they hadn’t had a dispute in nearly a decade, the tension was always present.

“Neither of us should be up here. There’s no way to get to this hilltop unless one of us is trespassing on land. In this case, it’s me. It’s too dangerous for me to get here if I go across my land. That’s why I go through the cornfields.”

I was afraid Ridge would be angry, but I wasn’t sure why I cared. He was the boy who’d just held a shotgun to my head like he wanted to kill me. But if anything could make me panic, it was the thought of losing the only freedom I knew of—and Ridge had caught on to my weakness. Something that looked like recognition flashed in his eyes, then acceptance followed as he took a step back from the edge.

We sat down against the tree, letting the sun warm our faces while the clouds moved with the breeze. My arm brushed his accidentally, but when he didn’t jump to distance himself from me, I somehow knew that Ridge and I would be friends, even if our parents didn’t want us to be. Even if Ridge didn’t want us to be. I would grow on him like the twisty tree at our backs, until I was so deeply rooted in his life that he couldn’t push me away again if he wanted to.

We had our hilltop along with our tree and our land that was spread out below our feet. No one could take any of it away. At least that was what I had convinced myself.

I turned to Ridge, so many questions filling my mind. I hated that he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—talk to me.

“So you really are a mute, then?”

He slowly turned to meet my stare, then a few moments later, his mouth started to part. Anticipation filled my chest while I waited for words to come. I’d never wanted something so badly.

“I’m not a mute. That word is not kind.”

His voice surprised and thrilled me in equal measure. His tone was soft, which didn’t surprise me at all, but it had a richness that felt significantly his.

“You speak.” The wistful words rushed from my throat faster than I could stop them.

“I don’t like to waste my words.”

His answer hit me like a forceful breeze—powerful yet calm amid the gloom that fated us both. But I was delighted that he’d chosen to speak to me. As hard as it would be, I promised myself I wouldn’t take advantage of that gift.

We sat in silence for what felt like hours. As much as I loved to talk, I didn’t mind being still. The hilltop was the perfect place to do that. But on that day, my thoughts were consumed by the boy sitting beside me.

“You come here often?”

“As often as I can.” My heart kicked at our nearness. “It’s my favorite place to think, to dream, and to pray.”

His eyebrows knitted, and worry lines formed. “You aren’t afraid?” He tossed a glance behind us.

“Of what? Lions and tigers and bears? ” I smiled. “What’s to be afraid of when humans are the scariest predator?”

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