Free Barkerville Gold by Dayle Gaetz Page A

Katie asked.
    â€œYour faces are bright pink, you’re out of breath and you look as if you’d just completed a marathon.” Gram moved a peg forward on the crib board.
    â€œOh, that!” Katie said. “We decided to race down the trail.”
    Rusty had to admire her answer. It was no lie. They did decide to race down the trail, but not against each other.
    â€œWho won?” GJ asked, peering up at them over his reading glasses.
    â€œWe did!” Rusty blurted out.
    Gram glanced up sharply. GJ put down his cards. Rusty thought quickly. “I mean, she did!”
    â€œShe who?”
    â€œSheila, of course. Sheila always wins.”
    GJ nodded. “I expect we’ll be watching you at the Olympics one of these years, Sheila.” He picked up his cards.
    â€œAnyone for a game of Crazy Eights after I win this game?” Gram asked.
    Rusty, Sheila and Katie glanced at one another. They looked at the picnic table and they looked at the road. “Sure,” Katie said, “as long as we can play inside the trailer. It’s kind of cold out tonight.” She shivered.
    â€œCold? It’s baking hot,” GJ said in surprise.
    â€œI’m cold too,” Rusty said and gave his best imitation of a shiver, even though he was melting from the heat. “It cools down quickly up in the mountains, you know.”
    â€œI’m kind of cold too,” Sheila admitted. “But before we start the game, can we go over to the shower building? Katie really needs a shower if you ask me!”
    Everyone laughed—except Katie.
    They walked the short distance to the showers, women’s on one side of the building, men’s on the other. After long, cool showers, they were ready to stay inside for an entire game. Anything beat sitting outside in full view of the road.
    Later, before they crawled into their tents, Katie reminded Sheila and Rusty, “Don’t anyone dare go to sleep before midnight. We need to watch and see if any more of Rusty’s ghosts go creeping past.”
    Inside his tent, Rusty propped himself up on his pillow and watched the shadowy road. He fought to keep his eyes from closing.
    Two smells tickled his nostrils. Two very familiar smells. The friendly aroma of brewing coffee was all but lost in the sharp scent of burnt toast. A robin chirped overhead but was immediately drowned out by screaming crows. Rusty yanked his sleeping bag from over his eyes. Bright sunlight flooded the campsite. He yawned and stretched and crawled outside.
    â€œIt’s about time you woke up,” Gram said. She and GJ sat at the picnic table, their little propane campstove perched nearby with a coffee percolator gurgling happily on one burner. On the other burner their camp toaster spouted tendrils of smoke. Two pieces of toast lay side by side like chunks of charred wood, and a crow hopped a little nearer on a cottonwood branch, eyeing the toast and cawing loudly.
    GJ raised his coffee mug. “Gram peeked into the girls’ tents to be sure they were actually there,” he said. “You three slept in for so long we were beginning to worry.”
    â€œSo—you didn’t care about me?” Rusty asked, rubbing his fingers through his tousled red hair. “Just Katie and Sheila?”
    Gram laughed. “We didn’t need to check your tent. We could hear you snoring from inside the trailer.”
    â€œI don’t snore.”
    â€œTell that to the big old black bear who came snuffling around to see what all the noise was about early this morning.”
    â€œJerry! Don’t scare the boy!” Gram turned to Rusty. “It’s not true, your grandfather’s kidding.” She grinned. “We only thought we heard a bear when we first woke up, but it turned out to be you, snoring.”
    Rusty opened his mouth to protest, but changed his mind. “I’m going in to get dressed.” He limped toward the trailer. His heel