Page 39 of Steinbeck (The Minnesota Kingstons #5)
Not again. Liam Kingsley pressed his chest against the scorching sandstone, peering over the northern rim of the Grand Canyon. June didn’t even start until tomorrow, and here they were—minutes from the first statistic of the season.
Eight feet below, on a ledge barely wider than his Bronco’s bench seat, a girl—maybe ten—sprawled on her back, one leg twisted beneath her. Terror bleached her face, but at least she was still breathing.
Thank heaven for small miracles.
Dark braids spilled across the sandstone, the colorful hair ties—purple and pink—a stark contrast against the ancient rock.
Her Disney princess T-shirt was torn at the shoulder, revealing a nasty scrape that oozed blood.
One sparkly tennis shoe still in place while the other lay somewhere in the rocks below.
Her eyes—wide and brown as a doe’s—tracked his movement above. Her bottom lip quivered, but she hadn’t cried. Yet. Brave kid. Or maybe too shocked to process what had happened.
“Kristen, my name is Liam.” The two boys had been shouting her name when he’d found them.
“I’m a ranger and I’m here to help.” He forced calm into his voice while his gut churned.
That ledge was nothing more than fractured sandstone, spiderwebbed with cracks that could give way any second.
One wrong shift, one deep breath, and she’d plummet another hundred feet to the jagged rocks below.
She whimpered—a sound that gutted him—and nodded faintly.
Up until now, he’d been enjoying the view as he patrolled the rim trail.
The canyon stretched endlessly before him, layer upon layer of red sandstone and purple shadow carved deep into the earth.
Pine-scented air filled his lungs—crisp, thin, carrying the faint mineral taste of ancient rock.
Beyond where he lay, the world simply..
. dropped away. Two thousand feet of nothing but sky and stone.
A raven’s call echoed off the canyon walls, the sound bouncing between the cliffs until it faded into silence so complete it pressed against his eardrums. The sun warmed his shoulders through his ranger shirt while a cool breeze whispered up from the depths.
Gorgeous but lethal. Especially to untended children hiking away from a nearby campsite.
Liam twisted toward the two boys hovering behind him—twelve and fourteen, maybe.
The younger one clutched a half-empty water bottle, his knuckles white against the plastic. Sweat darkened his Batman T-shirt despite the cool morning air, and his sneakers—definitely not hiking boots—were already caked with red canyon dust.
The older boy stood a head taller, all knobby elbows and gangly limbs he hadn’t grown into yet. His sandy hair stuck up in every direction and dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his mouth pressed into a thin line that screamed guilt louder than any confession.
Brothers. Had to be. Same stubborn chin, same way of shifting their weight from foot to foot when cornered.
“Is she your sister?” Liam kept his voice steady, though his chest tightened at the fear radiating off them in waves.
The older boy’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he gave a slight nod. “W-we didn’t know she was following us.”
Of course they didn’t.
Reckless people got other people killed. Only this time, he wasn’t to blame.
He turned back to the girl on the ledge below. He forced his voice to stay calm, easy. “We’re going to get you home, but I need you to stay real still. Can you do that?”
She whimpered. Nodded.
The boys crept forward. One loose rock could trigger an avalanche. Liam shrugged off his pack, creating a barrier behind him. The younger one’s chin trembled, and he swiped at his nose with the back of his hand. Fresh scratches marked his forearms—tough kid, clearly.
“What are your names?”
“I’m Michael,” said the older one. “That’s my brother, Eric.”
“All right, Michael, Eric, you’re doing great. Just stay back and let me work. She’s going to be okay.”
Please, let that be true.
Liam yanked the radio from his belt and turned his back to the boys.
“Base, this is Ranger Liam Kingsley, North Rim, sector Delta-7. I’ve got a juvenile female, approximately ten years old, stranded on unstable ledge eight feet below the rim.
Possible leg fracture, hundred-foot drop below.
Need helicopter and backup immediately.”
Eden’s voice crackled back instantly. “Copy, Liam. Chopper’s committed elsewhere—thirty-minute ETA minimum. Noah’s en route, twenty minutes out. Can you secure?”
Twenty minutes. The ledge might not survive twenty seconds . “I’ll secure. Out.”
Liam unhooked his sixty-meter climbing rope from his pack, uncoiled it, and carried it to a sturdy juniper a few yards from the edge.
“Hey, Eric!”
The younger boy jumped.
“See that trail?” Liam wrapped the rope around the trunk twice, threading it through itself to create a secure wraparound anchor, then tied it off with a double bowline knot for redundancy.
He gave it a firm tug—solid. “My buddy Noah is coming. Watch for dust; wave and holler when you spot him. Stay close enough to see us, far enough to stay safe.”
The boy nodded once, then took off.
“What about me?” Michael’s voice cracked. The kid was clearly near tears.
Liam snapped his harness, pulled out his Petzl GRIGRI, and clipped it to a locking carabiner attached to the belay loop of his harness. “You’re my eyes up here. See any rockfall starting, you scream ‘Debris.’ Kristen’s life depends on your warning.”
The kid nodded, wiped a hand across his face.
Liam threaded the rope through the GRIGRI, ensuring that the brake strand hung downward, then he double-checked the setup.
He slung a small first aid kit onto one of his loops and tucked a lightweight Petzl Sitta harness—small enough to adjust for Kristen’s tiny frame—into his pack, along with a roll of SAM Splint and some climbing tape.
He pulled on a pair of leather gloves and stepped to the edge, facing the anchor tree, his heels just shy of the drop.
Christiana’s face ambushed him again. Her final scream.
His lungs seized. Not today. Not this girl.
He leaned back, then walked backward down the vertical face, keeping his body perpendicular to the rock and his knees slightly bent.
The rope glided through the GRIGRI, the device’s cam ready to lock at the first hint of speed.
His boots found purchase on every ledge, his eyes flicking between Kristen and the wall.
“Kristen. You’re doing awesome.”
The ledge looked worse up close—spiderwebbed with fractures that predated her fall. Yeah, this rock was one bad storm from giving way, and now with the added weight... No, no, he wasn’t going to go there.
Except, too late, because suddenly Christiana’s shattered body flashed through his mind and the scream he couldn’t escape ripped through him, the memory of Christiana missing her grip, her anchors pulling out like a zipper?—
Then silence. Bone-jarring, soul-deafening silence. The kind that could paralyze a man. Or make him run?—
Focus!
His chest tightened, his breath hitching, but he forced it down, looked at Kristen as he landed beside her. Pebbles kicked off over the edge. He ignored them and the tiny pinch in his gut. “How’s the leg?”
He clipped a quickdraw from his harness to a small horn of rock in the wall, attaching the rope as a backup anchor, then turned to Kristen.
“All right, we’re gonna fix up your leg and get you out of here. You’re super brave, you know that?” Liam kept his weight on the rope.
“Hurts bad.” Her voice barely whispered. “Can’t move it.”
“Perfect. Moving it is off-limits anyway. Time to fix you up and fly you home.” Liam extracted the SAM Splint from his pack. “Ever visit the North Rim before? We’ve got deer everywhere, sometimes a condor if you’re lucky enough.”
“Saw a squirrel.” Her voice thinned as he straightened her leg to fit into the splint. She gasped, sharp and sudden.
“Almost finished, kiddo.”
He molded the foam-and-aluminum splint around her calf and shin, secured it with climbing tape. “Pain anywhere else? Back? Neck?”
She shook her head. He let out a coiled breath. Still, he pulled out a neck collar and secured it around her neck. “We’re not taking any chances.”
Then he pulled his radio off his belt. “Base, victim is secure. Can you give me an ETA on Noah?”
“He’s still fifteen minutes out, Liam. Ran into tourist traffic.”
And right then, the sandstone ledge seemed to lurch. Could be his imagination. Could be his worst fears, coming true... again.
He looked at Kristen. “Ready to fly?”
Her eyes widened.
He pulled out the Sitta harness. “This is your superhero gear.” Liam fitted the harness around her waist and legs, adjusting the leg loops to her tiny frame, cinched it tight, and clipped the tie-in points to a locking carabiner. “Keeps you safe while we fly up.”
He unclipped his personal anchor, then connected Kristen directly to his belay loop with a second locking carabiner, locking both gates with a twist.
“It’s you and me together now,” he said, and winked at her.
She gave him a watery grin.
And right then— not his imagination, thanks—the ledge groaned. New cracks zigzagged across the surface.
“Arms around my neck, tight as you can squeeze.” He pulled her arms over his shoulders. “I’ve got you.”
Her grip surprised him—iron strong for such small hands. Liam reversed his rappel, walking up the wall, hauling hand-over-hand on the rope’s free end, the GRIGRI managing the tension.
Don’t look down.
He kept his voice easy, despite the strain on his shoulders. “So you saw a rock squirrel? Those little guys are everywhere. Probably a dozen watching us right now thinking we are nuts.”
“Hope they don’t think we’re the eating kind of nuts.” She attempted a giggle, but it failed on a whimper.
A sharp crack echoed below them just before a distant crash.
The ledge?—
Kristen screamed, her arms clamped around his neck, tightening.