Chapter 4

The mine:

“Dad, you know I’m just twelve.”

“Not almost 13?”

“You, Sir, are a bad dad!”

We both laughed a bit.

“You were born a week before school starts,” I said. “Quick! First day of school?”

She shot back with, “January 30. Back to durance vile.”

“Let me see what I can do about that.” I made a note in my head, “Now, do we set up camp here or up in the trees.”

“You’re asking me?”

“I am. Look around and tell me what you see.”

She set to exploring. When she was done she came up to me and said, “In the trees.”

I opened my mouth to ask why but she was too quick.

“The grass along the river is all bent pointing downstream. The brush entangled in the few trees and bushes down here is at least a foot over my head and it’s constant along the entire stream we can see ... since I can’t see past the curves, I can’t say what it’s like up or downstream. If it rains in the mountains ... and it’s likely ... this stretch is underwater. It might not rain all that hard but I’d rather not take the chance.”

“You’re so smart ... up top it is.”

We unloaded the heavy mining equipment from out of the back of the new Rover Defender and negotiated the poor trail back up top. I was glad to be going back up. The trail would be the shit in the rain. I parked and opened the back and started pulling out camp. The tents; a Trango Four and my ancient but beloved Sierra Designs Sphinx ... made in 1967.

We were still far enough in away from the trail that we couldn’t be seen. The group of university students were closer to us than I cared for.

The young man who seemed familiar with the area walked over and said, “No disrespect meant, Sir. She’s striking.”

“None taken,” I said. “She is isn’t she. You’re from close by?”

“I am,” then he said, “How did you know?”

“The rock that was there last year.”

That drew a blank look.

“At the mine.”

“Ah, I’m from up the road ... at the B&B and cabins. Thought I’d bring me mates up and show ‘em some country. City trash, the lot.”

“Think that’ll collapse on him?”

Right off he knew what I was talking about. “If he gets too rambunctious it will.”

“Might kill him?”

“Life’s lessons are learned by the survivor. And here he is.”

And there he was, walking up from the stream ... covered in dust and hacking up a lung.

“You bastard ... you coulda warned me!”

“I did. I told you it could fall.”

I stepped in, “I’d say you’re lucky to be alive.”

“Who the fuck are you?”

“The bloke what’s going to kick yer arse you don’t clean up yer tongue.”

He finally looked ... and backed down. Like I said, I’m fit.

Just then Abby backed out of the Defender carrying a bag. Those long legs ... the product of gymnastics, martial arts and dance and that jeans covered butt ... then she turned around.

Gobsmacked ... all of them. Me too!

She’d taken off her tee shirt and was wearing a bikini top that I had NO idea she owned and wouldn’t have let her buy if I had been there when she did. If the bottoms were as skimpy as the top ... I hoped she’d shaved. I’ll have to speak to Myndee about that suit.

You know, there are times when a dad wants his flat chested little girl back ... this was one of them. Twelve ... a couple of months away from 13 ... and she has tits. Breasts I didn’t know about ... maybe 76cm D-cups ... torpedo nose shaped with puffies ... high and proud ... adult boobs on a 146cm frame ... Damn! Just what I always wanted ... urp ... you know ... just not HER! Absolutely the wrong girl ... somebody’s daughter ... anybody’s daughter ... just not mine!

“I lied guys ... she’s twelve.”