“I always thought running a campground would be easier than this,” Sierra said.
“Mud season,” Maggie informed her. “When the snow melts and the rain plagues us, there’s a lot to do to restore the place before the campers start showing up again. We’re coming up on spring break and Easter weekend and from Memorial Day through summer, it’s full almost all the time.”
“Maybe I can help out,” Sierra said.
All eyes turned to her. It was quite a while before Sully spoke. “Could you use a little extra money, girl?”
“I was thinking of being helpful,” she said. “I have a job, but it’s only part-time. I’m happy about that—I want some time to explore and...you know...get settled in. I’d be happy to help out.”
“That’s very sweet,” Maggie said. “Are you going to stay with Cal and me?”
“In the construction zone?” she asked. “Thanks, but I have a place.”
“Oh?” three people said at once.
“A hostel in town,” she said. “It’s very nice. It’s next to a bookstore. It’s across from the diner, where I’m going to work a few mornings a week.”
“Midge Singleton’s place?” Sully asked.
“That’s it,” Sierra said.
Sully leaned forward. “Girl, that woman will stack bodies end on end, stuff as many people as she can in that place.”
“It seems decent enough. She seems very nice,” Sierra said defensively.
“I didn’t say she wasn’t nice,” Sully said. “I’ve known Midge over thirty years. She opened up that place when her husband died a long while back and she means to make a good living on it. You got extra beds in your room?”
“Just one,” Sierra said. “For a female in my general age range. She promised to let me have the room alone as long as she could and that’s just how a hostel works. I’d like to think she means that...”
“I’d like to think that, too,” Cal grumbled.
“Here’s another option,” Sully said. “You go ahead and try that hostel, but watch your stuff. Let Midge lock things up for you—she’ll do that. If you don’t like it so much, I have empty cabins. There’s a shower and bathroom in each one.”
“That’s awful nice, but—”
“You can have one of ’em if you want,” Sully said. “I ain’t gonna put another camper in your bed with you, no matter how full up we get.”
Cal laughed and Maggie winced. “What’s the rent on one of those cabins?” Sierra asked.
“Well, let me think,” he said. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Bathroom needs regrouting. Picnic tables need paint. Porch on the store and at the house need sealer painted on. Garden needs work and tending. And there’s stocking daily in the store. Fifteen or twenty or so hours should cover a week. Easy. Then there’s always the rumpus room, which is free. But you’d have to share a bathroom with an old man.”
“Rumpus room?” she asked.
“Our old apartment,” Cal said. “It’s in the basement. The pipes clang sometimes but it’s comfortable. And no roommates.”
They visited for almost two hours when Sierra noticed that Sully was getting a little fidgety. Very likely he wasn’t used to sitting around, swilling coffee and yakking. “I think it’s about time I got Cal back to the barn and to work or Maggie will never get her house. And, Sully, give me a couple of days to figure out my schedule and the town and I’ll come around to lend a hand.”
“I’m capable if you have better things to do,” he said, standing up from the table and giving his jeans a yank up into place.
Out of habit, Sierra picked up cups and napkins along with Maggie, carting them back to the kitchen. She stopped to look around a little bit, intrigued by the supplies that ranged from food to ropes to tools. There was even a bookshelf full of secondhand books.
“This place is a popular stop off for campers and hikers,” Maggie said. “Through-hikers who have taken on the Continental Divide Trail count on this place to restock and rest for a day or two. There’s even a post office—they can pick up mail here.”
“Are there a lot of them?” Sierra asked.
“All summer,” Maggie said. “They’re amazing. It’s quite a conquest, the CDT.”
“Is it a long trail?”
“It’s 3,100 miles from Mexico to Canada.”
Sierra gasped. “Are you kidding me?”
Maggie shook her head. “It’s a pretty interesting group that passes through here in summer—everyone from hikers and rock climbers to families camping for vacation. There are quite a few RVs and fifth wheels here from spring through fall—lots of people enjoying the wildflowers and then later, the autumn foliage. It’s a beautiful place.”
“You’re so lucky to have grown up here,” Sierra said.
“I didn’t grow up here. My parents divorced when I was only six. I didn’t see my dad for years, then only as a visitor. I lived for some time here. I’ve always loved this place. And now, I’m going to raise a family here.” She absently ran a hand over her stomach.
“Pretty soon, too,” Sierra observed. “I hope you get the barn remodeled in time.”
“Hopefully before the first snowfall on both. I’m going to have to make sure Cal gets a plow...”
*
Sierra went back to Timberlake and continued her exploration of the town. The hostel was right next door to The Little Colorado Bookstore and, like everyone in the Jones family, she felt the promise of books pulling her in. Books had always been their salvation, their only means of learning while they traveled, the only real entertainment they had.
This store was tiny and packed to the rafters, specializing in books about Colorado—livestock and ranching, wildlife, history, mining, plants, crops, insects, anything and everything Colorado and its history, including lots of maps. They also carried fiction pertinent to the state. She learned that it wasn’t a busy store, but the customers were steady. The owners were the Gibsons—Ernie and Bertrice, a couple in their fifties. They were more than eager to tell her all about the store, founded by Ernie’s father a long while back. They liked to work the weekends when tourists were around because they were experts on both the state and the merchandise.