A Montana Man. Jackie Merritt
strangers to stick to the highway. The weather’s a bit deceiving, you know. Spring has sprung and the highway is clear at this elevation, but you could run into some snow and ice at higher altitudes.” The woman looked concerned. “Don’t see many women traveling alone up here. Just be careful.” She walked off to help another customer.
Sierra pondered the warning. Was she being rash? Reckless? But she felt so...adventurous. Never in her life had she taken such an extended road trip, and she had already seen so many places and sights she hadn’t known existed. She couldn’t spend all her money touring the country, of course, but a day or so in this high country was really too appealing to resist.
She made up her mind. She would be careful—it was only sensible—but she was going to do some exploring. After all, she might never pass this way again.
Wednesday, May 21
Sierra dug through her bags and boxes for a warm jacket. The predawn air was cold enough to make her shiver, and the windows of her van were completely frosted over.
She had retired early last night, slept well and was anxious to be on her way, but she forced herself into the café for some breakfast as she had no idea when she would run across another place in which to eat. With that in mind, in addition to a large breakfast, she ordered some sandwiches to go. An older man was waiting tables this morning, and while he was as friendly as last night’s waitress had been, he was too busy for lengthy conversations with any one customer.
Sierra went to the counter to pay her check and noticed a rack of window scrapers for sale. It was one item she didn’t have with her, and she’d been wondering how she was going to clear the van’s windows of such heavy frost.
She walked out of the café with her bag of sandwiches and a sturdy plastic scraper, pleased that she’d thought to buy something for lunch and relieved about the frost problem.
She started the van’s engine and turned on the defroster, then got to work with the scraper. It took a full ten minutes to clear the windows, but finally she was behind the wheel and on the road again. About two miles from the small settlement, the road became ascending. While the forest was mostly heavy on each side, there were some open spaces that permitted Sierra a view of dawn’s first light.
It was going to be a fabulous day, she thought with a zing of exhilaration, and although the ascending road was narrow and quite curvy, there was very little traffic and she felt completely in control. Turning on the radio, she found a station playing country music, and sang along with Garth Brooks. It had been so long since she’d felt like this, unburdened and lighthearted, and she cherished the sensation. Life could be good, she thought with a contented sigh. Leaving San Francisco had been the wisest decision she had ever made.
The road twisted and wound its way upward, full dawn broke and occasionally the trees parted to give Sierra a breathtaking view of the mountains. It was still very early, and only in those clearings did she actually see the sun.
The miles clicked by, and after a while Sierra noticed a sign indicating another road up ahead. When she got to it there was a second sign with an arrow pointing right and an inscription: Cougar Mountain.
She pulled onto the shoulder and consulted her map. But she couldn’t locate that road on it, although she could pretty much tell where she was on the highway. A daring little smile toyed with her lips. Was she adventurous enough to leave the highway and drive a road that wasn’t on the map? It looked safe enough from where she was parked. It was narrow, to be sure, but it was paved and appeared no more dangerous than the highway she was on.
She would do it! Why not? she thought as she got the van moving and made the turn. She could always turn around and head back to the highway if the road proved to be treacherous. Other than a little time, what did she have to lose?
She had just gone over the first hill when she spotted a river running parallel to the road. Moving swiftly in its rocky bed, it was just about the prettiest river Sierra had ever seen. She was driving slowly enough to take her eyes off the road and keep track of the river’s path, and it was a delight to watch.
It was on her right, and after a few miles it seemed to be dropping below the road’s level, while the road itself climbed higher. Another few miles and it was out of sight, probably at the bottom of a chasm that appeared to be getting deeper.
There was only a bit of shoulder between the road and the drop-off, and Sierra found herself hugging the center line. That deep chasm so close to the roadway made her a little nervous, and she wondered if she shouldn’t turn around and go back to the highway.
Only there was no place to turn around. On the left side of the road was a rocky cliff, on the right was that deep ravine, and the road itself was too narrow for a U-turn. She had no choice but to keep going until she came to a wide spot. There must be one somewhere up ahead, she told herself, Just take it easy, drive cautiously and you’ll come to it. The radio was a distraction now, and she switched it off.
The road kept climbing. Sierra spotted patches of old snow on the rocky bluff on her left, and her nervousness became more pronounced. She’d told the waitress last night that she was going to stick to the main highways, and she knew now that she should have done exactly that.
There was a blind curve just ahead, and she bit down on her bottom lip because it looked as though the road was heading directly for the ravine. It wouldn’t, of course; it would wind around that outcropping of rock, and who knew? Maybe just beyond it would be a place wide enough for her to get turned around.
Suddenly a red pickup truck came bulleting around that curve, on her side of the road! Sierra slammed on the brakes and the van went into a skid. The truck also began skidding, and fishtailing, and its back end slapped against the van with tremendous force. Sierra screamed as the van nosed into the ravine. She saw the river at the bottom, and the boulders and rocks rushing up to meet her. The van began somersaulting, and Sierra’s last coherent act was to unfasten her seat belt.
Two young men jumped out of the pickup and ran to the edge of the ravine. Frozen with dread, they stood there and watched the van tumbling down the rocky slope end over end, almost in slow motion, each bounce twisting the van’s metal body into a different configuration.
“Tommy...Tommy...what should we do?” Eric Schulze cried.
They watched in horror as the driver’s door flew open and a woman was thrown out onto the rocks. The next instant the van hit bottom, mere inches from the wildly rushing river.
“We have to go down there and see if she’s okay.” Tommy Barrow was already on his way. Eric followed. It was tough going. One misstep and they could end up like that van—or worse, in the nver.
Breathing hard, they finally reached Sierra. She was lying facedown and not moving. “I think she’s dead,” Eric said, his voice cracking.
Tommy knelt down and felt for a pulse. “She’s alive. Eric, go check the van and make sure she was the only one in it, then go back to the truck, get to the nearest phone and call for help. I’ll stay here.”
“But...”
Tommy raised tear-filled eyes to his friend. “If she dies, it’s my fault. I was driving too fast. I took that curve too wide. Go, Eric. Do it now. I can’t leave her alone.”
Eric started backing away. “Her van is smashed all to hell. Tommy! It’s on fire!”
“What?” He stood up to see. “Oh, God, what if it explodes?” He ran as hard as he could over the rocks to peer inside the van. Hurrying back, he said with some relief, “There’s no one else. Eric, we have to move this lady.”
“You aren’t supposed to move anyone hurt in an accident. What if her back is broken, or something?”
“She has no chance at all if we don’t move her and that van explodes. Come on, help me turn her over.”
The boys got down on their knees and very gently turned Sierra over onto her back. “You take her feet,” Tommy said, moving into position to lift