Page 2 of Hope’s Enduring Echo
Jennie
Jennie peeked over her shoulder. Although the base of the ravine now rested in full shadow, she spotted the college boy trailing her. Pretty far behind, but within sight. She wouldn’t criticize him for it, though. He was walking on the sloped, slippery, rocky bank of the river. It was easier going for her on top of the pipe, and his arms were full with the old bone. Funny how he carried it. The way mamas cradled their sleeping babies. He’d probably slip less if he put it over his shoulder because he’d be better able to see his feet. She’d suggested as much a half mile back, but he shook his head and insisted he was fine. She reckoned a college boy had enough sense to choose for himself, so she’d shrugged and kept going.
Although they hadn’t done much talking, it was nice to have company. When he’d appeared in front of her, she thought maybe God heard and answered her prayer for a friend. But he hadn’t hopped off that train for her—he only wanted to know about the bone. She snorted under her breath. Since when did God answer her prayers? She should’ve known better. Shouldn’t have gotten her hopes up even for a few seconds. But at least today she wasn’t all alone on her route.
She looked back again. He’d fallen even farther behind. His pants were crumpled from mid-thigh to mid-calf where they’d dried, but the bottom six inches of his pant legs were soaked and sticking to his ankles. His foot slid from the rock and went into the water. When he pulled it out, mud clung to the sole. He shook his foot, but only a few chunks dropped off. Jennie tsk-tsk ed, staring in dismay at his feet. He might never get all the muck off his once shiny patent-leather lace-up boots. He really needed to walk on the pipe instead.
Although she was already behind schedule and Mama would worry if she didn’t get home at her usual time, she sat and waited for him to catch up. When he was close enough to hear her voice above the river’s raucous song, she cupped her hands beside her mouth and hollered, “Climb up here on the pipe. You’ll stay dry that way.”
He staggered up the steep embankment and squinted at her. “Um, no, thank you. You might be half mountain goat, but I’m not.”
His sour expression tickled her. She couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Clearly not, considering how wobbly you are on the rocks.” She stuck out her hand. “Give me the bone. Then duck under the pipe. It’s a shorter reach from the other side since the ground slopes up. Trust me, you’ll be able to walk easier on the pipe.”
He seemed to measure the distance from the ground to her perch, his face set in a doubtful scowl. “Are you sure it’ll hold my weight? I’ve never seen a pipe made from wood before. If there are rotten places, it could collapse and send both of us into the river.”
Was he really concerned about her getting hurt? The thought warmed her more than the sun’s rays had at noontime. “It won’t collapse. My daddy walked it every day for years, and he’s heavier than you. Besides, this pipe’s made from redwood.” She gave it several pats. “Redwood doesn’t rot, swell, or shrink.” That’s what one of the waterway men had told her family, as prideful as if he’d been the one to create the trees himself. “It’s safer up here than it is down on those rocks. So come on up.” She bobbed her hand, inviting him to give her the bone.
His gaze skimmed the pipeline, then the rocky shoreline, and finally settled on her. He sighed. “Very well.” He handed up the bone and followed her other directions. She tried not to snicker as he flung his foot up and over and pulled with his heel. He’d been right about not being much of a mountain goat. But he managed to straddle the pipe, then carefully moved to his hands and knees before standing upright. For a moment, he teetered, his mud-caked soles slipping. He caught his balance, straightened his jacket, and blew out a noisy breath.
“All right, I’ll take the bone now.”
She tucked it against her chest like a shield. “Are you sure you don’t want me to carry it? At least until you get your footing?”
He shook his head. “No. I’m fine.” His eyes shifted briefly to the river, and he made a face. “Well, as long as I don’t look down, I’m fine.”
She laughed again and gave him the bone. Extending her arms for balance, she turned a half circle and set off. She wanted to peek back and see how he was doing. The noise of the rushing water covered the sound of footsteps. Maybe he hadn’t budged and was just standing there, hugging the bone. But she needed to stay focused on the pipe. She had a job to do.
There was a way to know if he was following her, though. Her gaze on the pipe, she called, “There’s only about a mile and a half of pipe left this direction. Then we’ll turn around and go back.”
“How far back?”
His voice sounded close, right behind her. She grinned to herself. He was keeping up. “My family lives near the midpoint of the pipeline. It’s a little over seven miles long altogether. You do the math, college boy.”
She scanned the pipe below her feet and waited for his reply.
“So…approximately three and a half miles back?”
She nodded.
“How often do you walk this thing?”
As much as she’d longed for company, conversation could distract her. She needed to finish examining the pipe before she let herself get lost in talk. Reluctantly, she paused and peered over her shoulder. “I don’t just walk it. I look for damage—cracks, holes, tiny leaks, rusting places in the iron bar…” He seemed to study her face as she spoke. “I have to report any damage to the waterway men so they can send someone to repair it before there’s a bad break in the line.”
“Is that your polite way of telling me to be quiet?” Although his words were teasing, his intense attention while she spoke made her feel as if he was truly interested in what she said.
She squelched a smile. “For now.” Then she pointed at him. “But on the way back, you can ask me whatever you want to and I’ll answer.” Oh, it would be so nice to talk with someone.
“You’ve got a deal.” He pointed with his chin in the direction of the end of the pipeline. “Lead on, mountain goat.”
She choked out a laugh. “Mountain goat?”
He grinned. “You call me ‘college boy.’ I have to call you something.”
Did he mean the term as a compliment just as she did with college boy, albeit with a hint of envy? Maybe, but she’d rather not be compared to the shaggy, curly-horned, stubborn critters that lived on the rocky crags. “How about you just call me Jennie.”
“Fine, and you call me Leo.”
Like friends. A delightful shiver rattled her frame. She should say no. After all, he was interested in only the dinosaur bone, not her. After today, she’d probably never see him again. Even Aunt Delia, who was ten years younger and a lot less strict than Mama, would warn her to be careful. But Jennie said, “Leo it is.”
His smile rewarded her. Maybe a little too much. She cleared her throat. “Leo?”
“Yes, Jennie?”
She liked the way her name sounded in his warm baritone voice. This suggestion was going to be harder than she realized. “Why don’t you stay here while I finish the route? There’s really no sense in you following me. Or…” She gulped. “If you want to, you could walk the pipeline the opposite way. You’ll see my family’s cabin on a rise to your right of the pipe. Nobody else lives out here, so you can’t mistake it. That way you can talk to my daddy about the bone and be on your way faster.”
He angled his head, his dark-blue eyes narrowing slightly. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”
“No!” The word burst out more forcefully than she’d intended. She swallowed hard and forced a shrug. “Not at all. I just don’t want you to feel like you’re wasting your time. You probably have to get back to the college pretty soon. Don’t you?”
He bent over and laid the bone on the pipe with as much care as Mama used when putting her wedding china in the cupboard. Then he sat, dangling his feet on the river side of the pipe and placing his hand over the bone. “I’ll be in Canon City all summer, so I have some time to spend.” He playfully shooed her with a swish of his fingers. “Finish your duty. I’ll wait here and make a list of things to ask you when you get back.”
That teasing tone of his would undo her if she wasn’t careful. She returned to work, certain he’d grow weary of waiting for her and head for her family’s cabin. But when she returned to the spot after finishing her inspection, Leo was still sitting there, one hand resting protectively on the bone and the other clamping his hat on his knee. The sight of his thick, wavy dark brown hair tousled by the breeze drew her up short for a moment. Such a contrast to the formality of his buttoned shirt, bow tie, and jacket, yet somehow perfect. She stared, wishing she could sketch him the way he looked at that moment, relaxed and carefree and approachable.
Suddenly he angled his head. His gaze met hers and he smiled. “There you are. All done?”
She might have been gone only a few minutes instead of an hour and a half, so easily he greeted her. For some reason, his kind patience brought the urge to cry. She managed a little nod.
He settled the hat on his head, stood, and scooped up the bone, this time placing it against his shoulder instead of cradling it. “I guess I have to lead the way.” He chuckled. “There’s not space for you to step past me.”
His easy smile and teasing nature reminded her of Daddy before he got hurt. Thinking about how Daddy used to be increased her desire to cry. She rubbed her nose. “You’re right, so just follow the pipeline.” Shame washed over her at her gruff tone, but she didn’t know how else to hide her turbulent emotions. “I’ll be right behind you.”
“Answering my questions?”
A laugh sneaked past her tight throat. “Yes.”
He moved forward, and she fell in step a few feet behind him. “All right, then, Jennie, let’s start with the question you didn’t answer earlier. How often do you walk, er, examine this pipeline?”
He asked question after question about the pipeline, her family’s responsibilities, and the challenges she faced in being held accountable for its condition. She’d expected him to ask about dinosaur bones, a subject about which she knew very little. But she could respond from six years of experience as the linewalker’s daughter. Leo made her feel smart and important, a unique feeling considering her shortened education and simple existence here away from town.
He switched the bone to his other shoulder, his steps slowing a bit. “When I saw you from the train window, I thought you were just a kid playing around on the pipe.”
Her heart gave a little leap. That’s what she and her mother hoped people would think when they saw her waving at the passersby. Leo’s comment eased her mind but also left her feeling a little guilty.
“But you’ve really walked this pipeline five days a week, every week of the year, for the past six years?” A touch of wonder colored his tone, and even though she couldn’t see his face, she imagined admiration in his expression.
She swung her arms, reining in a rush of pride. “Pretty much.”
“That’s amazing. How old are you, Jennie?”
The question was more personal than the others, but she answered without hesitating. “I turned seventeen in January.”
He shot a startled glance over his shoulder. “You were only eleven when you took on this job?”
Apparently, she hadn’t made things clear. “I was eleven when my daddy got hired as the linewalker. But I liked to be with him, so I went along most days. I…” A knot filled her throat. “I guess you could say I was a daddy’s girl back then.”
“Only back then?”
Now he was getting too personal. She didn’t want to explore the honest answer to that question. Jennie swallowed. “I’ve been doing it by myself for—” She clapped her hand over her mouth. She wasn’t supposed to tell anyone Daddy wasn’t the one walking the line. “I mean…I…Daddy…” How to fix it? She didn’t want to lie, but the truth could cause so much trouble. She blurted, “I’m only doing it to help. Daddy’s been sick lately, but he’s the real linewalker, not me.”
Leo nodded, seemingly unconcerned. “When you said there wasn’t anyone out here except your family, I thought you might be exaggerating. But you were absolutely right. No houses, businesses, or even a school. Do you take the train into Canon City for school?”
“I finished grade five before we moved out here.” How she missed those schoolgirl days. “But Mama’s been instructing me since then. She was a teacher in Salida before she married Daddy. I study every evening.”
“I can tell.” He shifted the bone to his other shoulder. “You’re very articulate—more so than a lot of young people who attend public schools. Your mother must be a good teacher, but you’re also a good learner.”
Jennie’s chest went tight at his praise. “Well, I probably won’t earn a high school diploma, like the kids who attend school in town, but Mama says a good education isn’t defined by a piece of sheepskin.”
“I agree. I—” He stopped and sniffed the air. “From where is that enticing aroma coming?”
The scent of roasting meat combined with cinnamon and apples reached Jennie’s nose. She grinned. “Mama’s cookstove. She’s not only a good teacher—she’s a good cook. And since it’s coming up on suppertime, she’ll tell you to take a chair and join us. I hope you like roasted pork and apple pie.”
The smile he sent over his shoulder was sweeter than apple pie. “How much farther?”
She pointed up the hill. “A hop, skip, and jump.”
He laughed. “Spoken like a true mountain goat. I’ll let you lead the way.”