“Why not? You say you’re willing to do the work. You’ve lined me up to teach you the skills you need, which shows excellent judgment. How can you lose?”
“Too bad Walter can never know about my excellent choice of instructors.”
“You can impress him in other ways. Maybe volunteer to staff the Orson Outfitters’ sponsor table at one of the events this summer.”
“Great idea. Thanks for the suggestion.”
“No extra charge. Let’s go.” He set a brisk pace on the return trip, but as he’d said, it was easier going downhill.
Once they reached the parking lot, they dumped their backpacks into his car and Leith drove to the campground. “Since we’re not staying overnight, I could take us to a picnic area for the practice camp, but I want to show you how to build a fire, and they’re only allowed in designated campsites.”
Only four of the campsites were occupied, three with giant RVs parked and one with a tent. Leith drove away from the others and stopped at an isolated spot near the lake. He got out of the car, so Sabrina followed him. His gaze swept the campsite and then he turned toward her. “What do you think of this spot?”
Sabrina looked around. A metal picnic table was chained to concrete sunk into the ground. Beside a gurgling creek was a flat place under some trees where she assumed the tent would go. A round metal firepit sat in the clearing, with an unobstructed view of the lake. “It’s beautiful. But I can tell by that little crinkle in the corner of your eye there’s something I’m supposed to notice.”
He laughed. “You’re good.”
“Not good enough to figure out the problem with this campsite.”
He nodded toward the creek. “Today, there’s no problem. But if this warm weather keeps up, the water coming off the glacier will cause the creek to rise, and you might wake up in the middle of the night with the creek running through your tent. In a public campground like this, the host will probably put up a sign not to camp here, but it’s something to keep in mind for wilderness camping.”
“Wilderness camping? Is that out in the open without designated campsites?”
“Exactly. But today, this will work just fine. I’ll go back to the gate to check us in, and we can get started.”
Sabrina insisted on paying the ten-dollar camping fee. Leith protested, but they were using Leith’s gas and Leith’s food even though this was all for her benefit. She filled out an envelope, enclosed two fives and dropped it in a slot in a post beside the campground sign. A handwritten note on the bulletin board warned that someone had spotted a wolf in the area and to keep your dogs and children close, so the wolf must have tracked through the campground after leaving the parking lot.
She returned to the campsite, where Leith had stacked an armload of wood beside the fire ring. Tal wagged her tail and whined at Sabrina, clearly upset to be tied to a tree. Sabrina hurried over to stroke her head. “Does she have to be tied up?”
“I’m afraid so.” Leith gave the dog a pat. “She’s pretty good about staying close, but in case she spots a squirrel or something, I don’t want her wandering off with that wolf around. Come on. Our first lesson is fire building.” He handed her a bucket. “Go fill this with water from the creek.”
Was he kidding? “Water. To make a fire.”
“Never start a fire unless you have the equipment ready to put it out. Safety first.”
“Oh, I get it.” She filled the bucket and wrestled it back to camp, while he watched. He could have helped. On the other hand, she was supposed to be learning to camp independently, and lifting buckets of water was probably good arm-toning.
When she got to the edge of the fire ring, he did take it from her and set it against a log. “Ready to learn how to build a fire?”
“One second.” Sabrina closed her eyes and took in an exaggerated breath. “I’m unleashing my inner pyromaniac.” She opened her eyes. “I’m ready.”
Leith didn’t laugh but his mouth twitched. “Good thing I brought a fire extinguisher and first-aid supplies.” He nodded toward a large canvas case with a red cross on the front.
“I’ll try to keep it under control. Okay, how does this work?”
Leith took a knife from his pocket and showed her how to create kindling from a branch. She was surprised to discover that fires were literally built; she’d always assumed it was a figure of speech. But Leith showed her how to create an intricate arrangement of tinder, kindling, twigs, sticks and then logs with spaces in between for air circulation. “Now you just need to strike a match.”
“Where do you keep the matches?”
“You didn’t bring matches?” Leith raised his eyebrows as though it was a serious question, but the laughter in his eyes gave him away.
“I guess I missed it on the invisible supply list you gave me. Do you have any matches, survival guy?”
“Why, as a matter of fact, I do.” Leith reached into his pocket. “In fact, I have two matchboxes, so one must be yours.” He handed her an orange plastic cylinder. “Don’t go into the wilderness without it.”
The Learn & Live logo stamped on the side of the box identified it as a promotional goodie. Sabrina clutched it to her heart. “Thank you. I’ll treasure it always.” She unscrewed the top and removed a match.
“Striker’s on the bottom.”
“I suspected as much. I once lit a candle, all by myself.”
“Impressive.” He smirked.
Sabrina tossed a twig at him before she knelt in front of the fire. “So, just hold the match to the dry grass, right?” At his nod, she struck a match. A slight breeze she hadn’t noticed before blew it out. She sneaked a look at Leith, but he didn’t seem to be laughing at her. Yet. She struck another match, this time cupping her hand around it until she could touch the flame to the tinder.
The flame caught for a second, and then sputtered out. Sabrina blew out a breath of frustration. She moved so that the wind was at her back and struck a third match. This time, the grass caught fire and burned, lapping at the kindling she’d shaved from a branch. As she watched, the kindling started burning and began to ignite the twigs.
“It’s going!” She turned to Leith, grinning. “I mean, I realize it took me three matches, but I lit a fire!”
“Three matches isn’t bad. You get a gold star for fire building. Now, while we let the logs burn to coals for cooking, I’ll unload the food, and you can pitch the tent. This is last year’s version of the one you, uh—”
“Almost destroyed?”
“You said it, not me.” He handed her the tent bag, which she dumped out.
“It’s green.” She rolled her eyes. “What a surprise.”
“What have you got against green? It matches your vest.”
“I know. And it matches the camp chairs in the store, and the midweight sleeping bags, and most of the rain jackets. It’s like whoever designs the products for Orson only has eight crayons to choose from. I can’t figure it out. I’ve been looking online at our competition. There are beautiful designs in outdoor gear. Why do ours have to be so...plain?”
“Did you see the prices on those brands? Orson Outfitters is known for producing high quality at reasonable prices. That’s why people like it. They don’t spend a lot on stuff that doesn’t matter.”
“It is good quality.” Sabrina unzipped her vest to show him the lining. “The workmanship on this vest is excellent. The seams are straight and well finished, they used a heavy-duty zipper, and the stitching on the windproof lining is perfect. But it’s boxy. It’s like they