Ride to Restoration (Ride Series Book 2) (19 page)

BOOK: Ride to Restoration (Ride Series Book 2)
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Chapter
34

I
found the bear, D. It’s …
it’s—”


Good job, Vic. I

m proud of you. Where is it?

Shut up and follow my
finger, pointing directly below us,

It

s down there.


Oops ... That

s not good with momma
nearby.

Somehow we were
scented and the not so little cub was coming up our tree to investigate. Trying
not to make a commotion to attract the attention of momma, I started whispering

Shoo
... shoo ... get down ... now!

Like,
I could do that great white hunter
.

D, give me your squeeze water bottle.


You can

t throw it at him. If you knock him off, momma bear will
come running and we

ll never get out of this tree.

Geez!

Who said anything about
throwing it, I

m gonna squirt him. Hopefully the cold water will shock him
just enough to make him turn around.

Handing
her the bottle, I watched Vic perform her magic. With the bear not more than
six feet away, Vic squirted the bear directly in the face. To my chagrin, baby
bruiser rather than being startled began to lap it up like a dog, swallowing as
much of the 32-oz. water bottle as Vic was willing to give him. Knowing we were
quickly running out of options, I grabbed the rifle and released the safety
just as a big tree branch snapped somewhere nearby. Baby bruiser

s ears perked up signaling
danger, whereby he immediately scampered back down the tree and joined up with
his mom, before running off into the forest with Mom not far behind.

Ha!

Told
you it might work! Good idea huh? Come on, you can tell me.

Who am I to burst her
bubble? I knew what the branch breaking meant, only because I

d seen this
scenario play out two times before.
Whispering,

That was a great idea. You did good. Sit very still. Act
two is about to begin. Train your glasses on the barrel and wait.

I flipped the camera back to ON and waited, too.

Out
of the deep woods, a shadowy cinnamon colored behemoth emerged and lumbered
across open ground to the barrel. Judging Yogi

s size, compared to the
55-gallon drum, I estimated him to be two feet taller than it was and at least
600 pounds. Yogi picked the barrel up like it was a feather and tossed it
against the tree. Then he jumped on top of it and rolled it around like a
trained bear from Ringling Brothers. Finally, he too gave up and resigned
himself to slowly lick out the grain just like the sow before him.


He looks mean, D. I wouldn

t want to have a run in with
him, day or night.


Look at his right ear. It

s missing. This is the
dominant bear ’round here. This is his bait, his food, his territory. Everyone
else is trespassing.


Including us?


Including us. He should be gone by dark.

But he wasn

t. Yogi was thoroughly content to lay at the barrel for the
next hour and tongue out the grain one lick at a time. The darkness gradually
enveloped us. Meanwhile it was almost six o

clock and I knew we had to
go if we were going to meet Greg.

Vic, do you think you can
climb down the ladder quietly in the dark?

Are
you an idiot?

With Yogi, as you call him,
down there somewhere? Nope! Shoot Him. You have a license, you have a gun,
shoot him!


Too much work. I

d have to gut him, skin him
and haul him out. That would add another six hours to our adventure. Of course,
if you

d
like to make love on the rug we could make out of him, I could be persuaded to
change my mind. Besides, the gun is only for protection.


Then protect me, D. Shoot the bear.

Handing
her the rifle,

You shoot him. Then you can make love to me on your bear
skin.


But ... but, I

m not having sex on a bear
skin rug, understood?


Understood. Loud and clear. Shoot him for the meat then.

That

s a thought .
..

What if I miss?


Then we

ll have one very pissed off bear to contend with.

Handing
him back his

Big Gun,'

never mind.

Asshole!


Vic, hunter

s pay big money for a once in a lifetime chance to shoot a
bear this size. I wouldn

t want to deprive any one of that opportunity. That fella

s gonna make some husband a
happy man when he gets to wrestle momma around with that big old hide.

Ooh,
yuck!

That

s gross, D. You talking
about the bear or the wife?

I
surprise myself sometimes.


Don

t knock it till you

ve tried it, girlfriend. Not
to change the subject, Greg will know something is going on if we

re not back by seven. He

ll come looking for us.


And what are we supposed to do until then?


Well, we could tell stories couldn

t we?


I

m drawing a blank, D. What stories would you like to share?

Retrieving
her hand from the rail, I placed it on my lap.

Be patient, I

m sure something is bound to
pop up.

I laughed at my
crude attempt at humor in a tree stand

in Canada

with
a menacing looking bear feeding not 120 feet away. She wasn

t amused.

OMG

men!

Seriously, D? You want to
fool around now? It

s hard to get in the mood in a tree even if it is with you.


Vic, don

t you know by now, men just need an opportunity and
possibly a place? It

s you women who pretty much always need a reason.


How well I know. Remember, I told you, you

d have to get me wasted
before I

d share the skeletons in my closet?


I do. Sadly, I don

t have anything to drink,
smoke or swallow to bring that about.

Chapter
35

“F
ear is an
amazing thing. It blurs the lines between fight and flight. It courses through
your veins and brings on a rush similar to amphetamines. It makes you wholly
appreciate living in the past, the present and the future; if and when it
comes. Close your eyes, D,” I managed to say while getting up the courage to
bare my soul, “and don’t interrupt me until I’ve had my say.”

Whew!
Where do I begin?

My
mom and dad divorced when I was ten and because my dad traveled with work, my
older brother and I lived with mom. Michael, all of thirteen, took it upon
himself to be the man of the house, which included disciplining me. If I got in
trouble at school and he found out about it before Mom got home, he would spank
me with his hand or a belt and send me to my room.

“At
first, I hated it and couldn

t stand being around him. But — I can

t believe I

m telling you this — by
age twelve I began to enjoy it. I would purposely make up things just so he
would spank me. It excited me and he knew it.

“He
stopped, but I didn

t stop wanting it. I wanted spanked. I wanted punished. Since
he wouldn’t do it anymore, I found others that would. By age fifteen, I
realized how much power I had over men — teachers, principals, and
counselors — all I had to do was let them cop an occasional feel when I
was bent over their knees.


I kind of told you I was a congressional page in Washington
for a semester in high school. How do you think that happened? My hoo-ha and my
desire to be spanked opened doors I never dreamed possible. What was amazing
was that I never had sex with any of them until that Washington year when this
chief of staff forced himself on me. He raped me repeatedly and threatened to
send me packing in disgrace if I ever told anyone.

“I
was too scared to say no to him until the end of the semester when I filmed us
having sex. I had him spank me, tie me up and have sex with me in every way
possible. I wanted something on film that he could not refute. And I got it.

“My
last day in Washington, I met with the congressman in private and showed him
just enough to get that asshole fired and me a full ride to the college of my
choice. I had it coming; I know it. Like your Momma said, ‘
You can

t continually play with fire and not get burned.’
There, now you know. I

m a terrible person, D. I
told you I was flawed...

“Please
say something, D.

I
was speechless and ashamed to be a man. I was hurting with her, for her.

We

re all flawed, Vic. Remember?
Everyone has a past. Don

t let anyone tell you different. It

s how we scrape the

pardon my French

shit off going forward that defines us. Are we stained? You
betcha. Does it linger, everyday? Does it make it harder to succeed and easier
to fail, absolutely?


Our minds are constantly at war with our past convincing us
of our unworthiness when the road gets tough. If everyone gave up and quit
living because of the baggage of our yesterdays, I

d venture to say there would
be very few of us left to make this world habitable.

I
paused, took a breath, swallowed, then continued,

Did you deserve it? Who am I
to say? Could I have been one of those men? It

s unlikely, but possible.
Anything is possible. You put yourself in a vulnerable position, Victoria. Good
men, bad men, all men are subject to fail without notice. Especially when the
power of a receptive and willing woo-hoo as beautiful as yours is drawing them
like a moth to a flame.

“Remember
what I said earlier, men just need a place and an opportunity. Sadly, you
provided both. Are you the only one? Hell no! I

ve dated many girls who were
assaulted, abused and raped by brothers, fathers, cousins, uncles and close
family friends — people of authority, people of trust, who you know damn
well knew better, but were somehow provided an opportunity. Sadly, sexual abuse
of a minor happens to both males and females. Guys seem to fare better
outwardly because of the stigma associated with it. Girls, as you well know,
suffer inwardly.

“I
hurt for you, Victoria. I hurt for all of those like you and me who are scarred
for life because corruptible men can

t keep it in their pants.

I
wrapped her up in my arms, and felt her tears on my cheek and she felt mine,
too. Sitting quietly in the darkness, we held each other close. We were two
scarred individuals who crossed paths, maybe it was only so we could help each
other heal. And in the silence we did. With each moment that passed the heavy
loads of our sordid pasts were spirited away, one by one, into the night

s starry sky.

Reality
beckoned. The pervasive sounds of a rumbling engine off in the distance signaled
Greg was on his way to retrieve us. Rousing the woman nestled in my arms,

Vic, it

s time to go.


D, I don

t want to leave. It

s healing here.


This, coming from someone who an hour ago couldn

t wait to leave?

He
better not laugh at what I

m about to say
.

Well, that was before I
confessed my sordid past to you.


Confession is good for the soul. I

m glad you trusted me enough
to share.


I trust you, I always have. From the very first time we met
and you wouldn

t sleep with me, I knew.


Speaking of sleeping with you. I

d like us to go back to the
way we were before, you know, when all we did was sleep together without the
sex.

I
saw that coming ... I knew it
. Pursing my lower lip,

You don

t want to make love, sex,
whatever you want to call it, anymore?


It

s not that. We

ve had amazing comfort sex.
It

s
been pleasurable, but it

s not been real. That is, as long as I

m forever thinking about
Candi, while I

m making love to you.

I
hit him, hard. Pounding his shoulders with both fists,

Why can

t you let her go, D? After
what you

ve seen, I

ve seen, we

ve seen, you still think there

s hope?


What do you want me to say? I

m a horrible romantic. I can

t get closure until I see
her again. I have to know ... I have to know...

D

s right. How do you compete
with someone you can

t see, that only he feels.

I can

t promise you I won

t jump you again, but I will
do all I can to help you get the answer you need. I got it. You can

t open another door if there

s one yet to be closed. All
I have to say is the quicker you get me home the better.

Before
Vic could finish her thoughts, Greg appeared, roaring down the trail, his
headlights cutting through the darkness. Stopping within fifty feet, he yelled,

Is
there a problem up there? You been shaking that tree in the dark and forget
what time it was?


Yep, we been shaking the tree and testing your stand,
especially the rails. Did you know it can support Vic

s hands and my legs in a 69
position for an hour?


You ruined it right there, D. I was beginning to believe
you until you said an hour. No one could last an hour like that ... 10 minutes
tops. But you can keep on dreaming since that

s what men do when they can

t perform like they once
did.


Yep

The
real reason we

re still here, by the way ... big Yogi, 600 lbs. plus, been
over the bait for the last two hours. He

s somebody

s trophy, that

s for sure. Vic wasn

t too keen on heading back
with him wandering around below. Besides, I didn

t want to walk. Glad your
ass finally showed up.

Greg
laughed.

You

re welcome. Miss, you can come down. With all the noise we

ve made, Yogi

s run off by now.

The
headlights from the Ranger lit up the tree making it much easier to descend the
ladder in the dark. With Vic in the passenger seat and me standing in the bed,
we made great time back to our machine and eventually the Green Mule and
trailer.

I
was puzzled,
Where are the infamous beaver dams we crossed on the way in
?
Once the boys loaded up their toys and we were all in the truck, I asked,

Excuse me, Greg. We didn

t cross the beaver dams on
the way back. Why?


Oh, we don

t go that way in the dark. Can

t see,

answered Greg, snickering.

Besides, it

s not safe.

Did
he just laugh?

D, did I miss something? Why is he
laughing?

How
should I say this and not get clobbered?

Vic, per my instructions, Greg took us over the challenging
route on the way in. You have to say it was more memorable than the ride out
—”

Little
boys and big toys!

Memorable?
It

s
only memorable because of my bruised ass and my sore hoo
—”


Ha! You

re just mad because you fell off and we didn

t.

There

s some truth to that
. I steamed all the way back,
until I didn

t, realizing I actually had a wonderful time.

Thank you both for making
this day possible. It goes in my lifetime book of memories.

Greg
spoke first,

You

re welcome. I

m glad it worked out for all
of us.

I
followed,

We

ve got some great film to add to that book of yours. I
especially like the scene that shows your sweet cheeks hanging over the log,
peeing in the bag.

Son
of a bitch!

D, you didn

t film that, did you? Show
me. I want to see what

s on that camera. Now!


You can catch it on the News at eleven. I

ll have it edited and on the
air for all the world to see by then,

I added, before Vic punched me hard in the groin, then
squeezed.


That hurt? This hurt?


Yep.

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