“Ho… lee... shit!” Karen said barely closing her mouth. “Ohio?”
A feeling of panic started to take hold. How the hell did she drive to Ohio and not remember it? Most of all, why?
There was nothing else to do but continue on till she found an exit. Once resigned to her situation her panic transitioned into a sense of adventure. She had no job to be at. Her kids weren’t speaking to her, and then there was the check.
Just then the engine began to sputter. Karen coasted as far as she could before the Beemer came to halt on the shoulder on the interstate.
The highway is a very different place when you're walking alongside it with a gas can in the freezing cold. It was only two miles to the gas station and two miles back, but it felt like ten with the icy wind from semis rocketing past hitting her like a jokes-on-you slap on the back every ten seconds.
Something felt slightly remotely good about it though. She had a problem, and she solved it. There was no one to cry to, no one to yell at her for letting the car run out of gas, no one to worry about waiting for her in the car. It was just her and her two legs bringing a can of gas back. It was the first time she felt good about herself in a long time.
Karen got a notion, an idea, nay, a mission.
Jean jumped up and grabbed her phone off the coffee table when it rang, nearly dropping it in the fumble to pick up.
“Hello?” she said. “Karen! Thank God! Where have you been?... Ohio? Really, Ohio? What the hell are you doing in Ohio?
“How could you not… It’s nearly eight now, how long do you think it’ll take to get back?
“What? Are you crazy. You can't just…
Karen sighed. “Well when you put it that way, I guess."
“How long will you be gone?”
“You’d better be back before then. Heck with the kids, I’ll miss you Christmas morning.
“The check, yeah it’s in your room.
“Okay I will. I’ll do it tomorrow morning.
“I know I told you to spend it on you but…
“Well, I was kinda hoping you’d spend it on me.
“Oh ha ha. So what are you going to do for clothes? You don’t even have a toothbrush?
“Okay girl. Man this is… are you sure you want to do this?
“Okay, I guess you've made up your crazy-ass mind. Well you just be careful out there kay?
“All right. Drive safe, be safe. Love you.
“Bye.”
Karen pulled out of the gas station stared at a moment at the sign before her.
90 East
Erie
90 West
Cleveland
Once the idea took hold there was no stopping it. Her eyes were clear of the aching crust of her tears. Her head had stopped pounding and her crumpled tattered heart had started to. She turned towards the ramp and headed West.
Fueled by the spirit of adventure and country music. Karen drove till nearly three in the morning before her eyes started to droop. She pulled into a chain motel and collapsed on top of the bed in her clothes.
Thursday December 17th
It was only 9AM when she woke naturally and feeling refreshed, albeit with the pattern of the bedspread deeply etched in her face. It took a moment to remember where she was, but when she did the same charge in her heart from the night before returned. An hour later she was back at the motel with two bags of clothes, some toiletries and a hot breakfast in her. She also wore a brand new backpack. This was an adventure, no place for suitcases, she had told herself at the mall. After a welcome shower she headed down the I-90 West ramp without contemplation.
Thoughts of home still haunted her and doubts of her impromptu trip still nagged her from time to time, but the radio helped keep her mind in the present.
Around Chicago she stopped for gas and some munchies. After paying she returned to pump number five, threw her purse on the passenger seat and pumped a tank full of gas. She got in and reached for the new sunglasses she had put in her purse.
It was gone.
“It happens,” said the clerk.
“What do you mean ‘it happens’?” Karen said. “I just put it on the seat and the next minute it was gone.”
“Were your doors locked?”
“Well, no. I was standing right there.”
“Yeah, they’ll pull up in a car real slow, one guys drives the other guy crawls out, opens your unlocked door and grabs it. All while you’re looking at the pump. See it on the tapes all the time.”
Anne couldn’t get a hold of Jean. She swallowed hard and called Bob.
“Well that was a damn fool thing to do,” He said.
For some reason Bob adopted a slight southern drawl whenever he scolded Karen or the kids. He was from Buffalo, he’d never spent five minutes in the south.
“Tell ya what. I’ll wire you fifty dollars. That should get you and the car home.”
“I’ll not coming home Bob. Just do what I asked. Cancel the cards and and have them FedEx a new debit card to a branch in Minneapolis and call me with the location. Can you handle that, or do I have to have one of your many ‘interns’ do it for you?”
“I want that beemer back.”
“My beemer? Maybe I’ll sell it to you when I get home, if I am in a good mood. Good bye Bob.”
In the garbage bag factory where Karen used to work she would listen to trucks on the New York State Thruway. She used to fantasize that she was out there, on the road, bound for the horizon and not held down by anything. Now here she was, no ID, no money and three states from home. For a moment she envied her old self there in the factory, safe, working a steady job, doing the same thing every day till forever, but she knew where her next meal and her bed was and there was a paycheck at the end of each week.
Maybe she should just go home.
“Happy holidays,” said the clerk as she walked away from the phone. She managed to fake a smile and walked through the automatic doors.
Once outside, she heard trucks on the highway. The comforts of home once again seemed dead and tedious. No, this was a test. She would continue on. At least she had a full tank of gas.
It was ten P.M. when she pulled into the Wells Fargo parking lot in Bloomington, Minnesota. The bank would not be open for another eleven hours, and the cards might not arrive for a while after that. Karen dined on what was left of her bag of Cheetos took the blizzard blanket out of the trunk, wrapped herself up in the back seat as best she could and pretended to sleep.
Friday Morning December 18th
She must have dozed off some time after dawn, because the light rapping on her window startled her awake.
“You okay?” a woman said loudly in a Minnesota accent.
Karen wiped the frost from the window. A short plump woman with a fur lined hooded parka smiled widely at her upside down from where Karen lied on the seat.
“Are you alright hon? Brrr! Woo! It’s a witch's tit out here, must be an icebox in there too. Oh… tit, box… get it?” The woman giggled viciously and looked around as if someone were listening in.
“I can tell you been here a good little while.” She pointed around the window. “From all the frost ya know. Yes, I’da thought we’d have snow here by now, but not a flake. What’s it like in New York? I saw your license plates see.” The woman smiled, impressed with her own detective work.
Karen righted her stiff body, cleared her throat and opened the window. “It’s about the same. Not as cold, still muddy.”
“And you’re doing okay then? Out here in the cold? All night? In your car?”
The woman's hints did not go unnoticed. She wanted the story.
“Um, yeah, I’m alright. I lost my debit card yesterday near Chicago. The replacement is being shipped here.”
“Oh, I see, I see. Well, it’ll be just a good little bit before we open yet, bought an hour. Here,” she held up a holiday red Starbucks cup, "have my coffee, warm ya up a bit.”
Karen, still trying to get her bearings wasn’t sure what to say.
“Go ahead dear. I haven’t even had a sip yet, I promise.”
“Thanks,” Karen managed to say. She took the cup.”
“It’s Holiday Peppermint. Mmm yummy!” The woman said. “I wish I could have you in now dear, where it’s warm, but they have their rules ya know.”
“Yes, I know. Thank you very much.”
“Mmm. I’ll give you a little wave out the front door when we’re ready. Enjoy the coffee.”
“Thanks, I will.”
Karen just held the cup in her hands for a while letting the heat from the coffee thaw her stiff fingers.
“I’m gunna need gloves.” she said.
“Come on over to my desk dear.” The woman said after she ushered Karen inside an hour later. “My name is Sadie, Sadie Clover.”
“Hi, I’m Karen.”
The woman looked up at her as if waiting for the rest.
“Karen Trent Lewis.”
“Oh that’s a nice name.” she said.
“I’m working on losing the Lewis.”
Sadie giggled. “Well that happens. Now, what can we do for ya today? Oh the cards! right, right, right. Let’s start out with your account number.”
After a couple phone calls Sadie put the phone down. “Well now. Your branch has canceled your cards. There were a couple charges already but it looks like those have already come off. There was no mention of having cards shipped. It seemed the gentleman, that would be the future former ‘Mr. Trent Lewis’ I gander. I guess he didn’t want to pay the overnight charge.”
Karen closed her eyes in frustration. “So what do I do now?”
“Well... we could just give you a new card right here.”
“You can do that?”
“Well of course we can my dear. I wasn’t sure why you wanted the cards sent over anyway. I just figured you had your reasons.”
“No, I just didn’t know that…”
“Of course not dear, that’s our job, to know all these little banking things and what-not. Now then, you had already showed me your I.D.”
“Well no actually, my whole wallet see was…”
Sadie looked at her with raised eyebrows.
“So... You already showed me your I.D.”
“Oh, ah, yes, yes, I did.”
“Perfect, let’s get you back out there and headed to…”
“Montana.”
“Ooh Montana for Christmas, won’t that be nice.”
“I don’t know about Christmas, I’m, you see. Well, it’s a little embarrassing.”
“Oh fiddlesticks, do tell.” Sadie’s eyes were hungry for gossip.
Karen sighed. "I’m looking for a kinda… secret ranch. It’s from a book.”
Sadie’s eyes grew wide and a smile widened on her face. “The Snow… Berry… Blossom… Ranch. Persephone, Book Two, Fanny Arbuckle!”
Karen felt as though her mind had been read.
“Er, yes, actually. How the heck did you?”
“I love those books!” Sadie’s eyes went dreamy. “Persie and the handsome Mr. Brondel. Oh and the dog, that poor dog. Oh how I cried. And of course the ranch!” Sadie’s eye’s looked up. “I dream of that ranch all the time.”
“So do I. And I think I dreamed a clue about...”
Karen paused. Maybe she shouldn’t say so much.
“The riddle! You’re working the riddle! And… oh my God. You’re going to Montana! You know the ranch in Montana!”
“Well, I think it is.”
“I look at fan forums all the time, mostly for the fan fiction--they do get a bit naughty, but that’s my guilty little pleasure.” Sadie giggled. “But the riddle, there are threads upon threads of riddle theories. You know they say that’s where Fanny lives and writes from.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah, you know the last line, ‘On the porch you’ll be sure to find, the scribe of wrote these words in kind’ they say that means Fanny, the author, not just the grandad with the crazy will.”
“I hadn't thought of that.”
“Oh me neither girl. I let those other folks be smart for me. Are you on the forums?”
“No, I didn’t even know there were any.”
“Oh heavens there’s forums for anything and everything.” Sadie lowered her head and her voice. “Persephone porn too. Everything.” She whispered with a twinkle in her eye.
Karen tried not to make a face. She would have been just fine not knowing that.
“So people have found it?” Karen said.
A wicked expression came over Sadie’s face.
“All the time dear.”
“No, not the porn. The ranch.”
“Oh, oh.” Sadie blushed. “No, no one’s found the ranch. At least no one’s admitted to it.” Sadie took Karen’s hand. "But I know you’ll do it. I just know!”
“I wish I shared your optimism.”
“You’ll do it. Listen,” Sadie took a business card from the holder on her desk and wrote an email address on the back. “this is my personal email. And right there, I’m ‘sadie-isme423’ on the forums, look me up and email me about your progress. Oh, and I won’t say a word, won’t tip anyone off.” She winked overtly.
“Okay.” Karen said looking at the card. “I will.”
Friday Afternoon December 18th
Karen had been a few hours inside the North Dakota State Line when the car began to sputter. Karen rode on the shoulder for a few miles, able to coax the BMW along at thirty miles an hour tops.
Hugh Donner watched the pair of legs step out of BMW 325i approach from under the F-150 he was working on. Black Chuck Taylor high tops coming out the bottom of well fit jeans.
It was going to be an interesting day.
“Hi there, name’s Hugh Donner, folks round here call me Bart though. What’s the trouble little lady?” He said wiping his hands with a rag.
“Hi, Karen.” She shook his hand. “My car started running real rough a couple miles back, just barely got it here,” Karen said. “I ran it out of gas last a couple nights ago, did I do something bad to it?”
“Clogged injectors maybe, we’ll take a look.”
Karen Sat on old couch in the office of the tiny little garage. On the wall were scores of pictures. Hugh was the only African American in any of them. One photo showed the mechanic in a cowboy and sheriff’s vest with a shiny star pin standing next to an even larger white guy. “Sheriff Bart & Mongo” it said beneath. Karen texted back and forth with Jean while she waited. She tried once again to get Paul to respond with no luck.
After half an hour Hugh came back into the office.
Karen couldn't help but think he looked like a black Santa with his fluffy white beard and the way his white afro came out from the bottom of his red knit cap. She looked away.
“Miss, I’ve lived in this little town for seventeen years and I have been black a lot longer than that, so I always know when someone has a question that they are afraid to ask.”
Karen blushed. “Well, actually it’s not about… Do you ever get asked to play Santa this time of year?”
Hugh chuckled. “Folks round here have come a long way since I showed up, but they may not be ready for that one yet.”
“So hows the car?”
“Okay, whoever drives this car regular, and I’m guessing it ain’t you, because this is a classic guy thing, is taking terrible care of it. They’re letting the tank get way too low before filling up. This car needs some regular service in a bad way, your husband or boyfriend ain’t taking proper care of such a fine machine. I don’t think running out of gas was enough to cause this, but it probably didn’t help.”
“So what’s that mean?”
“You got a fuel pump that’s all gunked up, needs to be replaced. I’m going to have to remove and rinse out the fuel tank to keep the new one from going bad. A fuel additive should clear out anything in the injectors. If you lived round here, I'd recommend a lot of neglected maintenance, but I’m pretty sure you mostly wanna get where you’re going.”
“Yes, true. How much do you think?” Karen said.
“I’ll work it up, but the fuel pump and labor not going to be too bad. A couple hundred, give, take.”
“Okay, that’s doable.”
“Two things though. First, It’s going to take a day to get the part, probably have to drive into Fargo myself and get it.”
“Not great, but I can wait a day if I have to.”
“Second, I don’t take no cards, no plastic.”
“Oh, um that could be a problem.”
“I can get you a tow back to Fargo, bout twenty mile, sixty dollars,” A look came over him, “or…”
Hugh walked out of his office mid sentence. Karen assumed she was to follow. Around the back of his garage they came across a hulk beneath a weathered tarp. Hugh gripped the cloth, but began to speak.
“Now I don’t know too much, but I know cars and I know people. That car out there, it ain’t you. Don’t ask me to explain it, but if I’m right you know what I’m talking about. Miss Karen, I can tell you are on a journey and that car is just all wrong for that as well.”
“Mr. Donner, I don’t think I can just…”
“Now bare with me for just another minute. I ain’t making a sales pitch, well I guess I am, but it’s not for making money. Hell, I may end up behind here, all I put into this baby.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m proposing a trade. Your 2001 325i for this…”
Hugh pulled off the tarp. Beneath it was a shiny new looking Jeep Wrangler, forrest green with tan trim.
“2010 Jeep Wrangler. Only sixty thousand miles. Now I worked this one up myself, so it’s good to go, and I mean good to go. Everything is fixed and checked out on this baby, winch, hardtop, so’s y’all won’t freeze, I dialed back the suspension a bit so it’s more comfortable on the highway, but it’ll still four-wheel good as you’ll ever need. Not the best mileage course.”
“It got a stereo?”
“Does it have a stereo she says,” Joked Hugh. “Check it.”
He put a key in the ignition and turned on the stereo. Hugh’s head pumped along with the music. Dogs began to bark in the distance. Hugh turned it down after a few seconds.
Karen’s eyes were wide. “I don’t know how you do it Mr Donner, and I don’t know if this Jeep is me, but I love the idea that this could be me. It’s a deal!”
“Alright, alright little lady.” Hugh shook her hand vigorously. “You know, I put love into that Jeep, but it ain’t me. That 325i, after a few modifications mind you, is all papa! And don’t you worry bout nothing, if you don’t love this lil’ cherry, stop by on your way back and get your BMW back. I’ll hold off on the major alterations for a few weeks.”
Karen sat down in the Wrangler and folded her fingers around the leather steering wheel cover. “It feels good.”
“Your man gunna to be mad?”
“Most definitely.”
“Treating such a fine machine with such disrespect. He don’t deserve it nohow.”
“There’s a lot he doesn’t deserve.” Karen laughed.
Hugh went to get paperwork from the glove compartment of the beemer. When he returned he held a fat envelope.
“You know bout this?”
“What is it?”
“This was wedged up behind the glove box, hidden like. I just happened to feel the corner when I was up in there.”
“What is it?”
“Trouble for someone. I’m thinking your man.”
Hugh handed the envelope to her. It was packed full of cash.
“There’s a thousand in here,” Karen said.
“At least. And you know I didn’t take none out, cause that envelope can’t fit any more.”
“Are you saying this is mine?”
“I’m saying it came out your glove box.”
“That slimy bastard. He would only wire me fifty dollars and only if I came home, and all the time this was here.”
She offered some Hugh reward money for his honesty, but he would take none. After the paperwork was sorted Karen moved her backpack to the Jeep and started the engine.
“Well. I’m off. Thanks for everything Hugh.'
“Miss Trent, you would look fine in any machine, but this here Jeep brings out your magic.”
“Thanks, you’re very sweet.”
“There’s just one thing still ain’t right though.”
Hugh disappeared into his office and came back with a cowboy hat. A fan of feathers adorned the front. He placed it on her head.
“There, now you're right.”
“Hugh, I can’t.”
“No, no. You need the hat. Sides, she ain’t never coming back. I don’t want the reminder.”
“Okay thanks,” Karen said.
“Maybe buy you some boots, those basketball shoes don’t match the hat, the Jeep or the weather.”
“What weather?”
“It’ll snow. You’ll see.”
Saturday December 19th Arrive in Augusta, MT
The “Missouri River Sportsman’s Lodge” was the only place Karen could find to spend the night. It was really just a house with some extra rooms and a pool table run by Lyle Morgan and his wife Helen. Helen kept to the kitchen and Lyle wanted to talk about nothing but hunting and politics, never mind that Karen kept inch towards the door to the bedrooms. He spoke with passion using analogies about hunting regarding politics and vice versa. Once inside her room she could still hear him talking to the walls. Her room had a bunk bed. She climbed in the top one. That’s what Paul would do.
The next morning she printed out some maps of the area around Augusta on the Morgan’s printer. Lyle was “out on the range”--Helen actually said that. In town she bought herself some honest-to-God cowboy boots.
Montana was a lot flatter than she’d imagined it, she thought as she drove West. It was a several hours before the Rocky Mountains began to grow out of the horizon before her. It was worth the wait. It was so beautiful and moving she wanted to call Jean, or anybody, to tell them about it, but mobile service was sketchy at best. She was about to take a picture with her phone, but seeing the inspiring view on the little screen made her realize the moment nor the immense view before her was not to be contained or shared, just enjoyed and remembered. Better this way, she thought. It was her own moment stored on the hard drive of her heart.
“Augusta? You gone too far miss,” said the old clerk at the Exxon station. You need to turn back outta Browning here and head South on Route 89, just bare to the right back three mile or so. Then you gotta continue South on 287 at Choteau.”
“Got it. So, left out of here?”
“That’s right. Say, what’s a pretty girl like you want in Augusta? Ain’t nothing there. Course ain’t a whole lot more here neither.”
“I’m on a quest, I guess.”
“A quest? What’s his name?”
Karen laughed.
“Fanny.”
Karen rehearsed what she might say to her favorite author if she did find the ranch and if Fanny did indeed live there and if she happened to be home.
It was dark when Karen arrived in Augusta. She was referred to a Bed and Breakfast outside of town. It was another hunting lodge that was just another ranch house with another bunk bed.
- Sunday December 20th
The Augusta Public Library was closed, but she could still get WiFi from the parking lot. She looked at maps of the area and sent an email to Sadie.
Hi Sadie, I’m in Augusta! No snow here yet. Would you like to work on the riddle with me? I could use the help.
Karen
Moments later an IM request showed on the screen from sadie-isme423. She clicked it.
sadie-isme423:
hi ho Karen, :D luv 2 help u
what line of the riddle are you on?
ktrent99:
Wow, that was fast!
I’m on the line “Towards the timber’s peril up seventeen mile”
sadie-isme423:
what do u have so far?
ktrent99
I found something called “Sawtooth Ridge” which would be a timber’s peril. the only problem is that that ridge is less than seventeen miles from Augusta, so it can’t be right.
sadie-isme423:
checking the posts for sawtooth…
not finding anything. is good news for u, means ur the 1st I couldn’t find anything about augusta either
ktrent99
Cool
sadie-isme423:
how did u find augusta? what did you do different
ktrent99
I subtracted 7 from 48, Montana is the 41st state
sadie-isme423:
y not 17-7=10 10 miles?
ktrent99
You may have something there
sadie-isme423:
does that work on the map?
ktrent99
It does, I think I’m going to have to take a hike
sadie-isme423:
i think so 2 here’s my mobile# txt me
ktrent99
I will if there’s service
Karen parked her Jeep as close as she could to the point on the map ten miles from town in the direction of Sawtooth ridge. The sky was filled with clouds that hid the peaks of the mountains. She put on the hiking boots and bundled up with parka she purchased on the way. She folded the maps she had printed out while at the Sportsman's Lodge in one of the many pockets and started walking towards a creek on the map.
Your feet will be wet in the creek
When you’ll hear you double speak
All she could do was follow the creek upstream while she pondered the line “double speak”. Karen walked back and forth up and down the creek looking for something that might be “double speak”.
Snow began to fall. Karen looked up and let the flakes melt on her cheeks.
“Finally, snow! Woohoo!” she yelled dancing around.
Her voice echoed off the sides of a small ridge the creek cut through. She yelled again relishing in the fact that there was no one around to hear her. She heard her voice come back at her from off the ridges again. It was a most unusual echo.
She stopped dead in her tracks. Double speak, echo! She had found the next point in the riddle!
Move upstream from a sweet smelling tertiary
She hiked upstream hoping to smell something sweet, or see something that implied it. The snow was falling all around her and starting to stick to the ground. After seeing several streams that could be considered tertiaries of the creek she was in, she got out her maps. Snow fell on the paper soon making the pages wet. It took some time, but she located her position on the one of the maps using the terrain around her. Soon she traced the many courses of the main creek on the map till she saw what she was looking for.
Rose Creek
Karen walked upstream. The sides of the ravine she was in grew steeper and taller. She hoped that Rose creek would provide her with a navigable exit. It was getting harder to see very far through the snow. There was also less bank to walk on without having to step in the water. She thought maybe she should turn back, but she kept moving forward driven by all that had happened and the dream of Snowberry Ranch.
“It can’t be that far now,” she told herself.
She had to pick up her feet through the snow. She’d never seen snow build up so fast before. There was no breeze. Snow accumulated on tree branches and rocks so delicately it looked like a pastry chef had carefully sprinkled the world in powdered sugar. The temperature had dropped also. Each breath was visible in a puff of steam. Karen pulled the strings on her parka hood closing it tighter around her face.
The falling snow made no sound. In fact it seemed to absorb the sound of her footfalls and breathing as if she were in a closet. Occasionally she would hear the sound of branches settling under the increasing weight of the snow.
In the failing visibility she saw the creek branch off to the left.
“Rose Creek. this must be it. I hope.”
Karen didn’t need to consult the riddle for the next line, she’d had it memorized to the end.
Take the sunset to a cemetery
This meant that she was no longer to follow the creek necessarily, but to follow the direction of where the sun would set.
She got out her phone. It took a minute to “okay” past all the warning about no coverage, no data and apps crying for their mothership servers. The GPS compass function worked fine though.
She watched the dial on her phone and walked as close to due West as she could. Soon she ran into the face of a cliff. She could not even see to the top through the thick snow, but from the portion she could see there was no hope of scaling it without equipment, skill and nerve.
She was supposed to follow the sunset, that’s West, she thought. But was it, Due West? No, it would be different different times of the year. If only the riddle specified that.
“It does!” Karen said.
August 48th, which could also be September 17th. Then she remembered “taking off a week.” September 10th.
“This would be great if I had some signal for data, I could find out exactly where the sun sets on September 10th, the day after my birthday.”
She thought for a minute. A memory stirred in her, the evening of her 16th birthday. In front of their house parked on South Ave. She sat in the driver’s seat, her sister Jean nervously beside her, teaching her to drive.
“I can’t do this, the sun’s in my eye’s.” Karen said.
“You baby, you’re not getting out of this that easy, just put down your visor until it shades your eyes” said Jean.
Karen remembered the map of their town from Social Studies in 6th grade. Her street, South Avenue, ran perfectly East and West.
The latitude of Western New York State wasn't too different from Central Montana. It might work.
Karen walked back to the mouth of the Rose Creek, though it was not as easy to see now, the flakes not only filtered her vision forwards it was also blocking light from the sky giving the mid-afternoon the look of early dusk. She looked at the compass on her phone and turned so she faced due West.
She pictured the birthday scene in her memory as vividly as she could. She could see the controls of the her mother’s old Ford Fairmont. She could see her sister to her right. She could see the houses on their street and the sun burning her eyes smack between the two trees in front of the Shaw’s house down the street. She took her arm and pointed at the sun in her memory.
Karen opened her eyes without moving her arm. She matched the angle of her arm to the compass.
“Looks like about... two-hundred and fifty... five degrees.”
She locked her eyes on the compass and trudged forward. After a while she felt the ground angle up at an incline. It was working, maybe, she had steered herself to the left of the cliff. She could tell she was actually on some sort of rough old trail. Still keeping her eyes on the compass she followed her trajectory up the incline. Soon she could tell she was out of the ravine, mostly because of the wind. The still air had mostly been the protection of the sides. Up on top there was a full on storm.
Karen still kept her direction aligned with the compass until she found ran into a rock. She looked around. She was on top of a small hill. It’s crest was littered with round flat rocks that stuck up a couple feet out of the ground. They almost looked like…
Take the sunset to a cemetery
A cemetery! Or at least a place that looked like one. This was it. She’d made through the next line in the riddle!
Beyond from two canyons you must choose
Which pen did your did your old Pa use
Now she just had to find the split of the two canyons. Fortunately she had already worked that out days ago.
At first she was perplexed by trying to determine if the “old Pa”, Persie’s grandfather was left or right handed. There were no references in any of the books to whether Reginald Pruitt III had a left or right dominance. Then she realized that it didn’t matter, the clue was a red herring to throw her off track. In 1909, almost without exception, all children were taught, even forced to write with their right hand regardless of their own dominance. It must be the canyon on the right.
All she had to do now was to find the sucker. It might not have been hard on a clear day, but in what was proving to be an all out blizzard Karen could only move forward until she could see a better clue of the surrounding terrain.
It was the moving that was becoming difficult. The snow was already above her knees and the cold was beginning to take an effect on her. She had been so focussed on her task at hand that her deteriorating physical state had gone unnoticed.
She had assumed her chattering teeth was deliberate, her way of dealing with the cold, exercising that cartoon cliche for comic relief, but when she tried to stop, she couldn't Her physiology had taken over trying to save her from hypothermia. Karen did her part by staying in motion, but each step was it’s own hurdle, lifting her leg up out of the whole of snow it was in sticking it out in front of her and plunging it into the hip deep snow.
Now it was also getting dark beyond the dimming of the clouds and snow. The sun passed behind the mountains.
Karen was now officially scared.
“Stupid, stupid,” she said in the hood of her parka.
She tried to think of any outdoorsy advice she’d been given. Was she supposed to hydrate by eating snow, or not eat snow because it might lower her body temperature? Build a fire, build a shelter from pine branches and rope made from grass, run in circles, send smoke signals, buy low sell high, yell for help like a friggin’ damsel in distress.
Yell for help. Actually, that seemed like a good idea. It was the only idea.
“Helloooo! Anybody! Heeeelp.”
She called out many times, but after a while Karen’s throat became raw from the frigid air against her vocal chords. She kept yelling until only squeaking sounds came out of her. She noticed the outline of a tree not too far away. She struggled towards it for at least a small measure of shelter. Karen had to duck beneath the low pine branches to reach the trunk. The sharp twigs snagged her parka, making the journey to the tree’s center a battle all it’s own. Eventually she was close enough to drape her arm over a good size branch. She effectively collapsed in that position.
What was next? Was this it? She wanted so badly to simply go to sleep, her eyes even fluttered a bit, but she came to with a start.
“I must stay awake, I must stay awake,” she told herself over and over.
She wasn’t sure how long it had been, but she thought she heard a voice. Was it real? had her last dreams begun to overtake her? She listened hard.
“Helooo.”
There it was. It was real! A man’s voice was calling out, trying to find her. She tried to respond, but her voice was gone. The man’s voice was beginning to move away. She had to do something.
Karen wrestled with a dead branch above her. It broke away easily but one live strip of bark held it to the tree trunk. She raised her other arm and began to rotate the whole thing until the bark twisted free. The outlying branches from the main one made this difficult, she cleared them away. One of them pierced her glove and sunk deep into her hand. She was so numb it was the blood not the pain that alerted her of her injury. Still she twisted the branch around and around.
Finally it broke free. Her breathing cheered this tiny victory and she attempted to change her grip on the branch that she might use it for what she desperately needed.
