"This is where I turn off" I said to the kid hitchhiking into Missoula. "Good traffic this time of day. You should be able to get a ride soon." With barely a nod, he jumped out grabbed his pack from the pickup bed and banged twice on the side panel. Quiet, shy kid, seemed to have something worrying him. Guess I'll never know now. Conversation certainly wasn't his strong suit.

I started across the one-lane bridge over the Bitterroot and peered over the side. The Bitterroot is small, this high up the valley, but runs clear and has some decent rainbow in it -- not that I get to fish much. Still the water level was getting low. It was late September and we'd had a dry Indian summer. Not much rain in the last month. Despite the cold mornings, the Forest Service guy warned us against starting warming fires. But I got soaked last Tuesday in a local downpour. Started a fire anyway. This time of year, the mills want logs and I'd been falling timber from the crack of dawn for 6 days a week. The money was good and winter was coming.

Jaxson, in the passenger seat, barked out the open window at Rose Simpson. She was putting out laundry and pregnant as hell with two more, little ones scurrying around. They all waved and she yelled something but I was banging over the wash-boarded, dirt road and couldn't make it out. I wanted to get home, see Janice, fool around with Lenny, eat a good meal and maybe get lucky tonight.

Joe Simpson and his wife had moved in three years ago. Came from a farm in Ohio somewhere and didn't know much about this kinda country. He was a hard worker if a bit soft on the edges. He was currently working a job at the log cabin, manufacturing place down in Hamilton. He tried logging for a while and worked on one of the Idaho skidding jammers set up east of Lost Trail pass. But being a big man and bit heavy, he didn't have the stamina and agility required to be running and jumping from log to log all day long. It was a skinny man's game. Janice and I had been down to have dinner with them a couple of times. They would do well now that they had a steady income and had learned to put in at least four cord of wood each year.

I crawled up a steep, crooked section of road that led deep into a heavily forested gully. It was cool here where the stream flowed through the culvert. I made a mental note to check my water pipe inlet and look for sign of game to put in the freezer. Never took much effort to hunt around here. The deer and sometimes an elk fed near the tree line above my house. It was an easy shot from the steady rest I set up on the back porch.

I stopped in the cool and Jaxson jumped out the truck window to get a drink and also to run ahead of me the rest of the way home. Man, that dog liked to run. Especially home. Good winter dog too. Black lab and blue healer cross with a heavy undercoat that was just starting to really come in.

I followed him home. He checked frequently to make sure I was in tow. And then made the sprint up to the front porch as I pulled in and parked. Jackson barked loudly and dance anxiously on the porch. The front door was shut tight. And the screen door wide open.

Should'a been just the opposite.

A gust of wind caught the screen and slammed it shut. Lenny wasn't there to greet us. And no smoke in the chimney. No one home.

"Fuck," I muttered. She and Lenny were gone. Probably for good.

I listened to the engine tick as it cooled and rolled a cigarette. For a moment, I kidded myself that they were in town shopping. But hell, she didn't even have a rig. The blown engine of her Subaru was hanging on the chain hoist in the shed around the back. She would have had to walk out with a nine-year-old in tow. Maybe Rose had yelled to warn me. Janice and her got along and they sometimes went to town for groceries. But Rose's Suburban was still in the drive and Joe wouldn't be home yet. Crap, she was definitely gone. To where and for how long, I hadn't a clue.

Hey, maybe Lenny got sick and they went to see the doctor. But Rose would have taken her. Rose wouldn't be home hanging laundry.

I'd met Janice a year and a half ago, last spring at the Sula bar. She was hanging out with some of the forest service guys. She had hired on for the summer doing office work. We hit it off and her son, Lenny, at nine years old, was smart and funny. He loved this place. He'd help me work on the rigs, quickly figured out how end-wrenches and sockets were sized and scrambled up into the engine compartment to hold the drop light for me. It was funny to watch him try to swing the double-bladed ax. And dangerous too. But he did fine with the small hatchet and happily split most of the kindling these days.

Mostly he was just glad to have a family. Janice had never married Lenny's father and despite my prodding she wasn't forthcoming about those times. All I know is that she left him to move back in with her mother in Spokane. Mom was a devout evangelical of some sort and, as Janice let slip one night, she considered Janice a "devil-worshiping whore." I'm guessing mom was more interested in saving Lenny's soul than helping her own daughter. Janice had left Spokane five years ago when Lenny was three or four. I know she spent some time in Coeur d'Alene and Moses Lake and most recently in Missoula. Other than vague mentions of office work, I had no idea how she had made rent or put food on the table.

Lenny was a bit more informative. He didn't tell me much in detail but mentioned a few schools and guys names. Sadly, he thought I was rich because I had a house and a job and seemed free to spend money. When we went to town, I gave him some money to spend on his own. It didn't take me long to figure out Lenny was hording the money. He would buy a cheap toy or couple of candy bars and then put on a big show of gratitude. But the numbers didn't add up and I didn't ask for the change back.

Come to think of it, Janice was probably doing the same. She put plenty of food on the table and I gave her more than enough to spend some on herself. But I had to buy both her and Lenny pricey items like boots and jackets and auto parts. She claimed she didn't know what to buy. Of course, dinner and drinks were on me. I didn't much care where the money went. I made plenty and I really liked Janice.

Weirdest of all was Lenny's not infrequent mention of moving on. He'd ask questions, non-sequiturs really, "I wonder where mom and I are gonna move next?" or simply state "We're gonna go see my dad soon." Christ, he didn't even know where his dad lived. And in the same breath, he'd tell me "I want to stay here forever."

Lenny wasn't jealous of me taking up his mom's time but rather Janice seemed uncomfortable with the time Lenny spent with me. Lenny would do simple things like get us to play board games together. He borrowed Monopoly from Rose down the hill. Now, I'm not a big fan of board games but Janice would, without a word, get up and leave half-way through the game. And not come back. If he was out hanging with me in the work shed, she'd call him in and make him do some irrelevant chore. Once I took Lenny out for a hike up the hill behind the house. We were gone for like 4 hours. And even though she knew where we were, she was hoping mad when we returned. Stuffed Lenny in the car -- this was before her engine blew up -- and drove off. I got home from work the next day and dinner was on the table like nothing had happened.

Often things were good. She would arrange to leave Lenny with Rose and we would hit the bars. Well, I mean the two bars within 30 miles of us. Everyone thought we were a great couple. And she made me feel like I was THE guy in her life. The guys and even some of the girls would kid me about what a hot piece of ass she was. Yeah, she was attractive, no doubt about that, but this was more about how she was attentive and touchy. She didn't convey to the other women that I was her man and they should keep their hands off. But rather she sent a subtle message to everyone that she was my property. I didn't get it. But what the hell. We danced a lot, got wasted and screwed our brains out. All in all, I was thinking this might work out.

Janice didn't. At least not after last winter. Three big storms had dumped a few feet each and it took days to plow a decent path with the pickup truck plow. Joe helped from his end but we needed a tractor to do the job right. Jimmy Kelp from across the valley eventually got his cat plowed up to our place. I've just got to buy a mid-size backhoe with a decent blade. Oh, and a good, used snowmobile.

Yet a couple of times we had to hoof it the two miles up the hill with a load of groceries and laundry. Janice had not been happy. She was worried about Lenny getting sick, having no emergency services and not being able to catch the bus to school. I guess that made sense, but she also spent a lot of time bitching about having no one to talk to. Having a job would have helped but in winter, with only the ski slope to draw tourists and the woods shut down for 3-4 months, jobs are scarce. You have to prove your mettle and get folks to accept you as local. Then you still have to talk your way into some sort of employment.

For me getting a job was easy. I'd come down from Kalispell, with the intent to buy a place. All I had to do was ask at the local saw shop and had the names of four gyppo outfits cutting and skidding timber for the mill in Hamilton. Gotta look the part, know the lingo and walk like you were born wearing caulk boots. Now, having been here almost 6 years, I guess I'm what you might call a local-yokel.

I crushed the cigarette butt cold, grabbed my lunch box and thermos, slung my caulk boots over my shoulder and steeled myself to go in and see the damage. Jaxson pranced at the door, anxious and confused. Sure, enough it was cold in the house despite the heat of the day. Dishes were clean, giver her credit for that. Bathroom seemed empty without her girlie stuff. The bed was made, that was unusual. Her dresser drawers were cocked askew and empty. Lenny's room was basically bare, except she'd left most of the toys we'd bought over the last year. Her big backpack in the hall closet was gone and so was Lenny's small school pack. It was a lot of shit to haul. But gone she was. I tried to imagine where she'd gone. And how. The only real option was a bus out of Hamilton or Missoula. Rose might have given her a lift. Maybe she hitched a ride?

I though briefly about going after her, but that surely would have ended badly even if I'd been able to find her. She'd probably throw a fit in public, attract the cops and accuse me of keeping her hostage. Rose might know more. But Janice and Lenny were gone and there was shit all I could do about it.

I stirred deeply into the stove ashes and found a few warm coals at the back. With the place so cool, she had probably gotten out of here before noon. I tossed in a wad of pine needles and topped it with some fine sticks and a few pieces of kindling. And stood up to look for the matches. Where the fuck had she put the matches? Gonna take me a week to get used to my own kitchen again. She was indeed a damn fine cook. Gonna miss that too. Without my coaxing, the pine needles burst into flame and I placed a few more big, dry pieces in and shut the door. That would be enough fire to take the chill off the place before bed. Supposed to get near freezing tonight.

I grabbed the half-full bottle of whiskey, the remaining chunk of sourdough bread, the honey bottle and headed to the porch to sit in the last of the evening sun. We kept two old decrepit reclining chairs on the porch and I took mine. Jackson looked at me and then at the blanket he normally curled up on. Then jumped up and reclaimed the other recliner as his. Smart dog that one.

Down on the highway I heard the "braaaap" of a log trucks jake brake. It was getting late. The driver would probably head directly home and deliver the load to the mill in the morning. I looked at the now near empty whiskey bottle and thought about heading down to the bar for more. I'd have to make an appearance sooner or later and everyone would tell me to "buck up." Some of the wives would ask me to dance and Belinda would affectionately rub her tits on the back of my neck. "There's plenty of fish in the sea," she'd say, "You're a real catch." But the fishing is poor around these parts no matter how good the bait is. Most kids head for the city when they graduate and few come back. Those few that do bring back a partner. John Dingles' daughter stayed, but she's got Lupus. They talk about moving to Missoula for her health anyhow. Ellie Pederson was nice enough until she got into drugs and then found God. The summer girls that hired on at the forest service, are all fun but they seemed to get younger and dumber every year. The ski hill gals are a separate society. I don't ski anyhow.

I watched in silence as the shadow of the Bitterroot range swept towards me like a wall of water. I held my breath as the sun sank below Elias peak and the dark wave splashed over me. Raising the bottle to the sky, I said with a crack in my voice, "To Janice and Lenny, I hope you find a family."

"Hey Jaxson." He cocked his head at me. "You can sleep on the bed tonight."

The End