Kept By The Mountain Man by Gemma Weir
1
Alice
Teeth gritted, I tip my head back and blink up at the bright winter sun taunting me in the sky above. Why did my stupid shit heap of an RV have to break down here? I mean, yes, I’m in Montana which is the state I wanted to get to, but I’d planned to head for one of the bigger, more popular ski resorts hoping to find a job at a hotel or in a café.
Instead, I’m in Rockhead Point, population, not enough, and my car has stopped, literally just stopped. I have money, I could maybe get it fixed, but the last time I paid to get it patched up, the guy told me the engine was on its last legs and if it broke down again it’d end up costing me much more than the RV’s worth to fix it.
When my dad bought this crap heap RV back in the eighties, he was so proud to own a brand new vehicle. Unfortunately for my dad, this was a shining example of his bad decision making, and the RV I inherited when he was sent to jail for fraud, is a pile of crap and always has been.
Silver lining to Dad being incarcerated – we at least had a vehicle to move all our stuff in when we lost our house and had to move in with my grandparents.
I smile as I think about the time we spent living with Gram Gram and Pops, those were some of the happiest times of my life. Gram Gram baked almost every day and when me and Serenity came back from school, the house always smelled like sugar and vanilla.
Those two years were so calm and normal, I wish we’d stayed. Instead, Mom met Wayne, a long-distance truck driver from Florida, and dragged us half way across the country to move into his trailer with him. We only got to see Gram Gram and Pops every couple of years after that.
Tears try to fill my eyes, but I blink them away. I can’t lose my shit on the side of the road; tears don’t solve problems and I’m nothing if not a great problem solver, after all, I learned from the very best. I think Serenity became our family fixer around the time we moved to Florida. She was thirteen, I was eight, and when Mom decided she’d lose Wayne if she had to stay behind and look after us, it made total sense that Serenity could step up and take care of both me and her while Mom toured the country in Wayne’s truck.
The first few weeks were scary, but honestly my sister was amazing, Gram Gram taught us how to cook when we lived with her, she also taught us how to be thrifty, how to make each dollar stretch. The things we didn’t already know about how to take care of ourselves, we figured out pretty quickly.
We made friends with the sweet old lady who lived in the trailer next door, and once she figured out that Mom wasn’t always around, she kept an eye on us and never told anyone that two kids were essentially living alone.
The years we lived in Florida weren’t the greatest, but me and my sister were a family. If I had any problems, Serenity fixed them for me.
In the years that followed, Mom met three other Waynes and so we moved whenever she fell in love, bouncing about across the country until we finally ended up in Missouri. That’s when everything kind of went to shit.
Bob, the pharmaceuticals sales rep, became Mom’s third husband when I was thirteen and Serenity was eighteen. By then, my sister was more like a mom to me than my actual mom. She was the one who helped me with my homework, gave me tampons when I started my period, and nursed me through the failure of my first crush. If I had a problem my sister fixed it, until she didn’t anymore.
The day she came home from school and announced that she’d enrolled in the military and was leaving for basic training, was one of the worst days of my life. Serenity was my world, my one constant, my big sister and my sole support network.
She packed her stuff, kissed me goodbye, and told me she couldn’t sacrifice any more of her life to take care of me and had to do something for herself for once. And then she was gone. She has an apartment in West Virginia that she and her boyfriend share somewhere close to the military base they work out of. She sometimes sends me a text on my birthday if she’s not on deployment, but I haven’t seen her in person since the day she left.
Pops passed away when I was fifteen, Gram Gram a year later, and somehow by the time I was sixteen I had literally no one who cared about me in my life. The day I graduated from Highschool, I loaded my dad’s shitty RV—that thankfully Serenity kept running till she left—with a case full of my clothes and a handful of other things, and left while Mom and Bob were on a yet another business trip, their tenth that year. It took her nearly six months to call me and ask me where I was.
Since then, I’ve spent the last five years following the seasons and seasonal jobs. In summer I head for the beach, I waitress or tend bar and make the most of the seaside towns and tourists. In the fall I follow the leaves, almost always ending up in a place with spectacular color changing trees and nature, then in the winter I find the snow. Spring is usually a quiet time, but there’s always a job to be found if you’re not picky about what you do.
Shitty and falling apart as it might be, this RV has been my home and transport for years and without it, I’m pretty damn screwed.
I Lift the hood and peer at the engine, wishing it had a big arrow pointing to the broken bit so I could attempt to fix it without having to find a mechanic, but unfortunately one of the things Gram Gram never taught us was how to fix a car. Serenity knew, but she left before I could drive, and good old Bob had no interest in spending time with his wife’s annoying teenage daughter.
After I left Missouri, I did think about tracking down my dad. He got out of jail right about the time we moved in with Bob, but he never made any effort to contact us over the years, so it seemed stupid to reach out to someone who had about as much interest in being a father as Mom did in being a mother.
Giving up on my futile engine inspection, I shut the hood and lean my ass against it, pulling my cell out of my jeans pocket and looking down at it. For a moment I think about clicking into the contact section and calling someone, but even after five years on my own, I still only have three numbers listed in there. Mom, Bob and Serenity, and none of them would care that my RV had died in a small town in Montana. Not that I’d ever call them to burden them with my problems anyway.
It took me a long time growing up to understand that I was a generally unlikable person. I’m not rude, or mean, I just don’t have the type of personality that people like. As a kid I tried to change, I tried to make friends, but the ones who did tolerate me for the short term were soon repulsed by my needy nature and tendency to cling.
The high school guidance counselor, that the school insisted I saw, said that no one liked someone who was incapable of looking after themselves and unless I wanted to be alone for the rest of my life, I should learn to become independent and self-sufficient.
That meeting with Mrs. Geraldine Colburn was an enlightening experience. In less than an hour, she made me understand why I struggled to make friends, why my mom had always picked her boyfriends over me and why Serenity left. Her words changed everything for me and I’ll always be grateful for her honesty.
Since the day I left home I haven’t attempted to force my company on anyone, I know who I am, so I don’t contact my mom or Serenity. I’m not a burden anymore, and with that realization came a freedom I wasn’t expecting.
I’ve lost count of the number of jobs I’ve had in the past five years, but I never try to form bonds or set down roots. I move with each season, never settling anywhere for more than three months. I’m a nomad, but I don’t mind.
Sighing, I switch to my internet tab and start to type in ‘Mechanics shops near me’ but a car slows to a stop beside me before I can hit enter.
“You having some car troubles?” a low, rumbling voice asks.
“I’m fine, I’m just about to call a mechanic,” I say, not looking at the person as I hold out my cell to indicate my readiness to make a call.
“My brothers own the only mechanics shop in town, I’ll give them a ring, tell them to get the tow out here.”
“No that’s fine, I can handle making the call, thanks though,” I say politely, still not acknowledging the man.
“I’ll wait for them to arrive.”
“I appreciate you stopping to check on a stranger on the side of the road, that’s very nice of you, but honestly I’ll be just fine. Thank you.”
The road crunches beneath tires and I’m pleased when the car starts to pull away, only instead of leaving, he pulls ahead of me, slowing to a stop on the side of the road and killing the car’s engine. Either this guy is a super helper that just won’t take no for an answer, or he’s a creep and I’m going to have to lock myself in my stationary RV while I call the cops or hope I’m a faster runner than he is.
His car door swings open and I see his head appear, followed by a broad back. More and more of him curls from the car and I feel my eyes widen, because this guy must be well over six foot tall. I’m not a short girl at five foot eight and he’s at least a head taller than me.
I’m moving before I even realize I’m doing it, circling my RV and opening the driver’s door to climb back inside. I know some basic self-defense, but against a guy this big, I’m not sure any of it would help me.
Closing the door behind me, I press the button to lock it, suddenly glad that my ancient RV doesn’t have central locking and that all the other doors are already locked shut. When he appears at my window, I have to swallow past my shock as my eyes take in his appearance.
A shock of barely tamed dark brown hair covers his head, his chin coated in dark stubble almost thick enough to be called a beard. His jaw is square, his features masculine, leading to warm brown eyes that are focused on me like I’m a wild animal ready to attack.
His chest is massive, thick and broad with what I suspect is hard muscle, although I can’t see for sure through his Henley and thick padded bodywarmer. His lips are tipped at the corners in an almost smile, but the friendly expression doesn’t seem to reach his eyes.
“Hi ma’am, my name is Granger Barnett. I can see you’re a little freaked out, so here’s what you’re going to do. Take out your cell and type in 911. I’m not going to attempt to touch or open your vehicle, I’m just going to stay right here until one of my brothers gets here to recover you from the side of the road. If at any point you feel unsafe, I want you go right ahead and call the sheriff. Rockhead Point is a pretty safe town, but I can’t think of a single roadside I’d consider safe enough for one of my sisters to be stranded on, and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I were to leave you here alone.”
Nodding, I do as he suggests and type 911 into my cell, my thumb poised over the call button. Maybe I’m being naïve, but he doesn’t seem dangerous. I’m still not going to unlock my door or get out of the RV though.
He watches me as I type into my cell, then nods approvingly. “I’m gonna give my brother Bay a call, him and my brother Penn run the shop and they should be able to get out here pretty quick.”
I nod again, and he clicks into his cell then lifts it to his ear. “Hey Bro, I’m out on Sunderland Ave and there’s a woman broken down in a…” Pausing, he glances down at the RV and wrinkles his brow. “It’s an old dodge RV.”
He stops speaking, and I’m assuming whoever is on the other end of the line is talking.
“Okay, yeah, I’m gonna stay with her till you get here. Okay. Thanks.” Ending the call, he slides his cell and his hands into his pockets in what I think he’s hoping is non-threatening body language.
“How many sisters do you have?” Shoot, why did I just ask him that? It’s none of my business and I know better than to try to engage people in unnecessary conversation.
“Two. Bonnie is married to my oldest brother, and Cora is engaged to my brother Huck and expecting my first niece or nephew.”
I nod. Looking down at the cell in my hands and hoping he goes and sits back in his car. I don’t want him to feel obliged to talk to me just because he’s playing the good Samaritan.
“Do you have a name?”
Lifting my gaze, I don’t smile, I don’t need to look eager. “Alice.”
“Well, Miss Alice, it’s nice to meet you. Do you have any siblings?”
“One older sister.” A short and sweet answer, he doesn’t want to chat, he’s just being polite after I asked him about his sisters, that’s all.
“I’m one of seven, nine now with the girls,” he laughs. “I couldn’t imagine only having one sibling. Are you and your sister close?”
“Not really,” I shake my head.
“That’s a shame, my family is very close, my brothers are my best friends and I’d be lost without them. So, are you on vacation?”
“Just passing through.”
“You don’t say much, do you?”
I allow my lips to tip up at the sides in an attempt at a smile, but don’t say anything.
“So where are you passing through to?”
“Big Mountain.”
“Oh, do you ski?”
I shake my head.
“Snowboard?”
I shake my head again.
“You’re heading to one of the most popular ski resorts in the state, but you don’t ski or snowboard?” he asks, a little bemused.
“There’s always plenty of work during ski season,” I admit reluctantly, not wanting to force him to engage with me anymore than he has to. He’s obviously feeling awkward just standing here without talking.
“What kind of work are you looking for?”
I shrug. “I don’t really mind.”
“Do you live in Montana?”
“No.”
“So where have you come from?”
I’m saved from answering when a large black tow truck appears beside us, a guy who looks similar to Granger behind the wheel, smiling widely, his arm hanging out the window. “Hiya, let me just get turned round and I’ll get that beast hooked up. Granger, can you move your car out the way?”
Granger nods, then walks to his car. When his engine starts, I expect him to drive away and a twinge of sadness that he’s leaving hits me. Only instead of pulling onto the road, he drives forward a hundred yards then stops again, getting back out of his car just in time to guide the tow truck toward the front of my RV.
Once the tow truck’s in position, Granger’s brother jumps out of the cab and Granger walks over to him, slapping him on the shoulder and pointing at me. I startle a little when they both move to toward me.
“Miss Alice, this is my brother Bay.”
“Nice to meet you, Miss Alice, I’m gonna need you to jump out so I can hook your RV up to the truck. Then we can recover you back to the shop so we can see what’s going on with this beast. You can go jump into the cab of my truck, the heaters are on and this won’t take a minute.”
Nodding, I unlock the RV, my cell still gripped tightly in my hand as I grab my purse and then open the door. Both men step back to allow me to climb out. When my feet are firmly on the floor, I look up, and up again at the brothers who are both well over six feet tall.
“Thanks,” I mumble as I bypass them both and head for the tow truck.