The Lure Of The Mountain King
(Uncle Albert's Mountain)
Matthew 22:21 Jesus said "Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar's; and to God the things that are God's." Romans 13:1 "Let every person be in subjection to the governing authorities.
Albert Bianchine Gordon Grey T. Thomas Dillon (Two Thomas Dillions')
To Winter My Revenge
I had once
so long ago it seems
enjoyed the cool aroma
tasted the nectar sweet
of personal destiny achieved
These Words!
So at last I come to understand
after all these travels
all these achievements
that most men only dream…
I’ve been wasting the years
trying to go back
rolling the bitter ugly taste
over and over
my tired palette
“Reliving is not Life”
I am… To tell this tale
… to pound one nail
… to Winter My Revenge.
The Lure of the Mountain King
(Uncle Albert's Mountain)
Gordon Grey
The red Mercedes slid to a halt on the loose gravel of the roadside. The young hitchhiker stepped to the door, loosened his backpack and removed it. He slid into the passenger seat.
“Thanks,” the young man said.
“No problem,” the driver replied, as the Mercedes moved forward.
The young man eyed the older warily. His tanned skin was weather checked, like that of a sailor who has seen the salt of the seas.
“Where ya headin?” asked the old man.
“Arapahoe Basin, my name is Tom, Tom Dillon, ” he smiled a warm ivory smile. He liked the weathered sailor.
“ Hi Tom, I’m Joe, Are you a native or just passing through?”
“Just passing through, I was on my way to Big Sky, Montana, but met three young ladies I’m living with from my home, I’m from New York originally, upstate New York. You tell people out West you’re from New York and right away they think of the city. I’m from Albany actually.”
“Oh yeah!” he brightened, “I was in Troy once.”
“Troy,” the young man chuckled. “If the world ever needed an enema, Troy would be it.”
The old man exploded laughing accentuating the deep wrinkles around his eyes.
“Let’s just hope they don’t stick it in Colorado.”
The young man grinned. He took off his brown Stetson, looked at the rattle snake skin rimming it, and ran his fingers through his long black hair.
“So you want to ski the Basin, eh?” the driver asked.
“Yeah, every day if I can, the hell with Daniel Webster, I’d sell my soul to the devil himself for another powder run.”
“I know what you mean,” the old man said. “Did you ski much back East?”
“I skied the Adirondacks and Green Mountains. I even climbed Tuckerman’s Ravine on the backside of Mount Washington, it just wasn’t enough,” he confessed.
“I’ve heard the headwall at Tuckerman's is pretty steep.”
“Yeah it’s righteous, but it’s nothing like Mount Baldy at Alta. The Baldy chutes are intense, real gut suckers. Once you’re up there, there’s only one way down.”
“So you’ve skied Utah!” he looked at the younger man with a new respect. “How about Snowbird, Alta, Brighton, and Solitude?”
“All of Big and Little Cottonwood Canyons. I’ve climbed all day to ski powder where there are no names for the trails. They’re just called things like the big rock trail. Places where if you miss a turn you will die!”
“Let me tell you something son,” he looked directly at the young man. “I’ve skied all over the world, and I’ve never found better powder than a good March in Utah.”
“I know steep and deep.”
They both laughed.
“Blackcomb and Whistler in British Columbia have some of the finest leg burning vertical I’ve ever skied. Blackcomb is a mile of vertical, and Whistler has some incredible glacier skiing. It’s just that the Pacific Northwest snow is usually wet and heavy. I fell a thousand feet in Saudan’s Couloir and dislocated my shoulder severely. The only thing that saved me is I had my skis cranked and was able to spin and carefully grab an edge. I thought I was dead,” the young man wiped his brow grinning.
“Isn’t that named after Sylvain Saudan, the father of extreme skiing,” said the sailor, his eyes shining brightly.
“Yeah, I spent a few years following in his footsteps.”
“Couldn’t think of a better role model, he created a whole ski industry outside, out of bounds.”
“There are only 2% of skiers that venture that far out. I get real quiet in those places,” the young man said reverently.
“I know it certainly is God’s Kingdom in the wild.”
“I think the Grand Tetons of Wyoming are just about the greatest mountain ranges I’ve ever seen. I love Jackson Hole. It’s one big- rock,” the younger man said.
“Jackson! Jackson is special! Corbet’s Couloir is pretty gnarly!”
How much like himself he thought this young man was. He had loved every mountain also, that is until he skied A-Basin, the Legend. He was about the same age. What was the lure? What drew men to mountains? Because they were there, that just wasn’t good enough. He was indeed the King of the Mountains. He looked over at the young man. The young man staring out the window, the awe radiating from his face. What would drive his dreams for the rest of his life? His grip on the wheel tightened, baring the big white knuckles of his calloused hands. These had been his golden years. This was his last golden year. He had been a young man with a dream, the grandfather of all dreams. When you are the King there is always someone after your crown. He had always known they would come, the multi-national corporations. Christ, he had hoped they wouldn’t. Looking at the young man again, he knew he would spend the rest of his life coming back. Once you have been on top, you simply know of no other place to be. There is a fine line of tempting fate in the mountains. It will always be there. Some men live and thrive on that challenge. Some men never know it. If you accept it and step over it, you have got to conquer it, or it will forever conquer you.
“Ever skied New Zealand or Australia?”
“What are they like? I didn’t even know they had mountains down under.”
“It’s a lot like the Alps, Mt Aspiring in New Zealand is often referred to as the Matterhorn of the South. They’re jagged and mean like the Rockies, the Alps of the South. I’m thinking of retiring on a ranch there someday soon. Their winter is our summer, I know some ski patrolmen that live in perpetual winter.”
He guided the Mercedes into the parking lot of A-Basin. The car stopped in front of the large A-frame lodge. The two men got out.
“Thanks for the lift,” the young man reached out with his hand.
“My pleasure,” said the older man. He shook his hand, smiled and walked away.
“The highest lift operated mountain in North America,” the young man said.
Steep runs and open snow filled bowls were common in the Rocky Mountains. They could be found anywhere. It was Arapahoe Basin’s claim to fame, being the highest, that separated her from the rest. The Continental Divide was a few hundred feet up the road.
He was at the Top of the World. The silver grey peaks spiraled up all around him. The soaring rock spires rose up to touch the sky and there formed a giant dazzling bowl, filled with precious white powder gold. He thought that high atop its thirteen thousand foot summit he would be able to reach up and like chalk, with his fingernails, scrape the blue from the sky. He was an enigma to a modern day society. He knew every inch of every trail and every mountain peak in America. This was the crown jewel. He would ski here every day this winter.
Wheeling about, he faced the lodge. Its blue tin roof dotted by a double row of skylights. A white pole topped with a large brass eagle flew the red white and blue colors of the American Flag. It was flapping lazily in the pristine morning breeze. Starting across the lot briskly, he reached the third step when he stopped abruptly. His big hand was shaking unsteadily, he grasped the rail, he had not yet acclimated to the thinness of the air. He breathed deeply. There it was his friend. The first faint trace of the dampness of winter in the air, he had maniacally waited for that smell. Methodically, he had brought out his equipment and readied himself to leave, to who knows where.
“Ker, ker, ker,”
The flutter of wings startled him. Two rock ptarmigans were hovering above the lodge. The male already winter white. The female partially turned speckled autumn blending brown. Something deep inside him told him that this was his last winter on the circuit. The season hadn’t even begun and already there was talk of Targhee next year. Grand Targhee, Wyoming, first and last with the snow. Breathing a deep breath, he ascended the remaining stairs.
A picnic table with six men sitting at it was on the deck. They were playing a game with three little pink pigs. One of the men rattled the pigs in a small brown cup and threw them onto the table. One pig was mounted on the other.
“Makin bacon mate, I win,” a man said with an Australian accent.
“Hello,” he said to the nearest man.
“What can we do for ya?”
“Where do I go to fill out an application for a winter job?”
“See that building with the lift ticket sign,” he pointed across an open courtyard with empty ski racks. “Go in there and talk to Joe, I just saw him pull in before.”
The young man stood bolt upright.
“Do you mean the man who just drove up in the red Mercedes?”
“That would be the one.”
“Thanks.”
“Looking for me,” Joe said standing with his hands resting on his hips.
“As a matter of fact, I am”
“What can we do for you?”
“I’d like to fill out a work app, I’m pretty handy with mechanical things.”
“ I’m afraid there’s no more jobs available. We filled them all. But, if you repair some of the things in the restaurant and the lodge rooms, I’ll give you a season’s pass.”
“Repairs for a pass, you got it. When do I start?”
“Be here first thing Monday Morning,” Joe said as he turned and walked away.
“The young man walked across the parking lot and up into an adjacent meadow. He had a season’s pass to the highest lift serviced mountain in North America. He was not impressed by fame, or by claims to fame. Having searched out and conquered each and every claim, only to become disillusioned and bored by them. He was the America’s greatest ski bum, or so he thought. He smiled to himself smugly. It was the self -assured cocky smile inherent in a young man accustomed to challenging and conquering nature in the mountains. If he had only known this snow capped earthen rock mound, where a century earlier the melting spring snows would come cascading, crashing off a slope now called the Professor, and her seven cornices, like her seven saintly sisters, unimpeded by the tarmac of Route Six. A place where the Uncompaghre Utes, dwellers of the turquoise skies, lived in harmony with the elements, in a land they called (Nah-Oon-Kara) the Valley of the Blue. If he had any inkling, this earthen rock mound would alter the very core of his existence forever. He wouldn’t have smiled so smugly.
Chapter II
Joe’s Office and The General
Joe loosely shuffled some paperwork together. It was a ragged pile on the corner of his oak desk. He stood up, stretched and walked over to lie down on a tattered old brown couch. Like Joe, it had seen better days.
"We've both seen better days," he thought.
He turned the radio on low, a habit that allowed him to concentrate on an issue. His mind was well organized, although the condition of his office today might belie that fact. Several torn magazines were thrown on a scratched coffee table. A pile of out of date newspapers stood stacked in a ragged pile in the corner. A half empty mug of coffee from the day before was the crowning glory of the mess. A mess that one might think reflected his character. It was not the case. Joe never stopped taking the time with things he considered meaningless.
“What the hell can I do,” he sighed. It had been five years. Five of the hardest damned years of his life, five long bitter years and they were still at his throat. Bit by bit they had chipped away at everything that stood in front of them. Rolling over everyone like a thunderous machine. Compassion and justice were unheard of phrases to them, unless it fit into their warped perception of business.
Joe had lost his clout entirely in town. They had convinced ,or replaced, the local council that their way was the only way to a prosperous Summit County. He indeed was a Sampson against a mighty Goliath, only this Goliath was a United States Senator. He was alone in the fight that should have had the whole country on his side. No one cared anymore, if it wasn’t their back yard or wasn’t a loss to their profits then it wasn’t worth the effort.
“To hell with them all. I’m not going to lie down and let a faceless group of filthy rich corporate whores walk over me! Not as long as I have a few aces up my sleeve. No better time than the present to play my hand.”
He jumped up and walked briskly to the phone. Thumbing through his files, he pulled out a single yellow card. ‘General Matthew Dowe’ was printed in large black letters. The office number, extension and home phone number appeared underneath.
Two years ago the army needed a place to hold winter maneuvers, Joe had offered Arapahoe Basin to the ski troops. The Basin had been founded by the men of the 10th Mountain Armor Division after they returned from the fighting in the Italian Alps in the Second World War. General Dowe had promised to return the favor, if the need ever arose.
“Anything ya ever need Joe,” he had laid his hand on his shoulder. “You hear me Joe! Anything at all!” he boomed. The heavy smoke of his cigar had risen and choked Joe.
Joe was desperate, although he hated asking for favors. He wasn’t sure what, if anything the General could do. A General in the Armed Forces should be able to come up with something threatening, he thought. Joe laughed out loudly as he picked up the phone. He was mentally picturing the entire Tenth Mountain Armor Division taking their corporate offices by storm. Arresting the Board of Directors for being Heartless Sons of Bitches, and the secretaries for putting you endlessly on hold.
“That’ll teach the bastards,” he thought. We’ll force them to have dignity and honor for the rest of their lives,” he said dialing the number.
“I wonder if he’ll go for it?”
III
Tom walked slowly past the classic buildings that lined the main street of his winter home. The Old town had long since disappeared after the Denver Water Board purchased the rights and flooded the town to form the Dillon Reservoir, to the opposition and dismay of its citizens. The new Town was fashioned after “Old Dillon” back in the gold rush days. Its heritage still remained.
He cheerfully kicked at the snowflakes falling from the skies. They floated gracefully to the ground like large white silver dollars. The vibram soles of his hiking boots squeaked leaving large footprints in the eight inches that had already fallen. He had never known snow to fall this hard or fast. Turning he looked at the virgin tracks he had left down the walk. They reminded him of a painting his Grandfather had hung on the living room wall. It was simply titled ‘A walk in the park’. It triggered a fond memory of home.
Tom spun back around and continued his exploration of the old mining town. The sound of music grew louder as he noticed a large weathered wooden sign protruding over the sidewalk.
“Tiger’s Moose Jaw Saloon," he spoke to no one in particular. “This has got to be the place.”
He approached the saloon door, grabbed the brass handle fastened to the wide planks and yanked it open. Standing in the entrance for a few moments to allow the music to register. “You poison my clear water. You chop down my green trees. I live like an outlaw, in the land where I was born. I’m always on the run, Hey, Hey, What you gonna do about me?” Tom recognized the tune by QuickSilver Messenger Service. A rustic interior with a black upright in the corner opened up to a dark wooden bar with a wall of glass and bottles. A poker game was underway around a large table under a handmade wagon wheel chandelier. Tom expected to see a gun drawn over the inevitable fifth ace up the sleeve of one of the players.
“Only in the movies,” he laughed as he made his way across the room.
The regulars had been slowly showing up since around five when Sara punched in. Tucking her western denim shirt into her tight hugging jeans she flipped her shoulder length hair free from the collar. Well aware of her status as the ‘Queen of the Silver Dollar’ she smiled coyly at the men lining the bar. She noticed some unfamiliar faces in the crowd and expected that. This was the time of the year for the world to converge on Summit County, Colorado, Keystone and Arapahoe Basin ski area respectively.
She noticed one fresh, handsome face in particular. Although a bit rugged and unrefined, his yellow down vest was threadbare and torn. She noticed his patched denim jeans clung nicely as he walked up to the bar.
“What’ll it be?” Sara asked in her best western drawl.
“J.D. and coke and hold the coke,” the young man smiled.
“Whatever’s your pleasure, Old No. 7 it is, you here for the show?”
“You might say that,” he laughed, “As long as everything goes as well as it has today.”
“Well, welcome to town. I’m Sara, Sara Lacey”
She was attracted to his confident, strong appearance. Attitude was always the first thing that drew her to a man.
“Tom Dillon,” he returned”
Her dark sensuous eyes accentuated a mysterious yet soft air. He could tell that she loved her job, the way that she smiled joking with all the customers.
“A blister a day,” he overheard her say. She was laughing with who he guessed was the mailman sitting down at the end of the bar.
“What can I get ya?” Sara asked another customer who had just walked in. He had the Olympic Logo pinned on his black ski sweater, and another on his matching cap. He stamped his freshly polished cowboy boots on the floor to shake off the snow. They had collected a considerable amount from the storm raging outside.
“Grapefruit Juice if you have it,”
“It’s your funeral,” Sara grabbed for a glass. “I’ll have to keep my eye on you, drinking this stuff.” She grinned at the young man as he removed his hat revealing long dusty blonde hair his six foot five frame towered over her and everyone else at the bar.
“This one’s on me,” Tom broke in.
“Thanks. Toby White,” the young man reached out his hand.
“Nice to meet ya, Tom Dillon. You here for the show?”
He gave Sara a wink as she twisted the ends of her long red hair. He felt the warmth of her smile and found himself smiling back.
Toby looked at them both and laughed.
“For a couple of months anyway. Coach says that I got the technique, but not the style. So he sent me to the Basin to loosen up. I’m shooting for the Olympics.”
“Impressive,” Tom nodded and raised his glass. “I’ve never had the ambition, but it would be glorious.”
“We’ll see if I get there,”
“When you get there,” Sara replied
“She’s right ya know, Ya can’t expect to go all the way without a winning attitude.”
“I know, that’s another thing coach wants me to work on. Loosen your heart and strengthen your mind, he always says.”
“He’s a wise man,” Tom sipped his drink.
“I was never big on skiing. My late hours here don’t leave much time for daily activities. A few times a year at best,” Sara looked down the bar for anyone who might need a refill.
“If you ever get the urge. We could take a few easy runs.”
Tyler couldn’t believe he was asking her on a date.
“That sounds like fun,” Sara smiled. “Excuse me duty calls.”
“So where are you staying?” Toby asked.
“That’s my last obstacle. I’ve got a job at the Basin in exchange for a season’s pass and a little spending money. There is no place to stay.”
“I guess we’re both in the same boat. Maybe Sara can steer us in the right direction.”
“It’s worth a try,” Tom looked up and waved to Sara.
Sara walked over wiping her hands on a bar rag that was hanging out of the back of her denim jeans.
“I’ll see what I can do,” she said. “I figured you guys would need a place to stay. My friend owns a boarding house in town. Maybe she’s got a room. Don’t wander too far for now.”
“Be right here,” Tom watched her move as she walked away. Her thin waist and rounded hips were looking finer all the time.
“She sure is a sweetheart,” Toby poked Tom with his elbow. “You got yourself a fine filly there.”
“Naw,” Tom shook his head. “She’s just being friendly. There’s nothing there.”
“Want to bet pal,” Toby leaned closer. “My mother always said, it’s all in what they don’t say.”
“Tom glanced up and caught Sara looking back at him. She quickly turned away.
“Maybe you’re right.”
“I know I’m right.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I’m sure, I’m right. By the end of the winter you two will be an item.”
“I certainly hope you're right,” Tom added. “She’s the prettiest mountain girl I’ve ever seen.”
“Listen, I have sisters. I know I’m right.”
“We’ll just have to wait and see,” Tom replied.
“O.K. have it your way, she’s not interested,” Toby laughed.
They both burst out laughing.
“Tom, Toby, meet Jilly.”
They turned around and came face to face with every young man’s dream. Jilly was a dusty blonde like Toby athletic build and a knock down smile. Tom thought she had a little too much make-up. Toby on the other hand was entranced by it.
“Nice to meet you,” Toby jumped up offering his chair. He stumbled in the process. A bit gawky on flat land, he skied like a demon.
“I’m Tom, He’s Toby,” Tom motioned.
“Hi,” she was looking at Sara. “I’ll have a martini, very, very dry,” she didn’t notice the two boys. They eyed each other behind her back.
“Thanks Sara,” Jilly replied, reaching for her wallet.
“I’ve got it, I’ve got it,” Toby slapped a twenty on the bar.
“Thanks,” she reached over and sipped her drink and set the glass on the bar.
“A little less Vermouth next time Sara.” She ignored Toby’s gesture and didn’t acknowledge his attempt to be friendly.
“Sara tells me you boys need a place to stay,” she said curtly.
“Desperately,” Toby answered, mesmerized by her charm.
“Do you think I can trust these boys, Sara?”
“They look pretty shady to me,” Sara smiled at Tom.
“I’ve got a room with two single beds and two dressers. You can stay this evening and if you’re still interested we’ll talk in the morning.” The business woman was showing through.
“Sounds great to me,” Toby said.
“Fine,” Tom added.
“Well I have to be going,” Jilly downed her drink and hopped off the stool.
“So soon? Where ya headin?” Toby questioned curiously.
“Got a date,” she answered with a sly wink to Sara.
Toby fell silent, his face went blank and void of expression. He recovered, smiled sheepishly, held his hand to his heart and acted wounded.
Sara knew better than to ask who the date was with, she already suspected. She wouldn’t have given his name or where they were going to meet. Friends should be interested but not prying. She would let it be, for now. She wondered if Jilly had any other friends in town. If she did, she never came around with any of them. Maybe the Moose Jaw wasn’t classy enough for her kind.
“Stop it Sara Lacey,” she chastised herself.
“See you later Jilly.”
“Bye Sara,” she tossed a dollar on the bar. “Up the stairs, second door on the left. Sara will tell you how to get there. We’ll talk business in the morning.”
“Thanks,” the boys said in unison. She turned and walked out the door before they could finish their sentence.
“Just my luck,” Toby sucked on a cube from his empty glass..
Sara grabbed the glass filled it to the top and shook her head at the boys,
“Don’t waste your time. There’s something distant about that girl. She’s got it all but still seems to want more.”
“She’s probably lonely,” Tom said. “Beauty isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
Sara shrugged her shoulders and was off to wait on another customer.
“Well Toby,” Tom extended his hand. “Not bad for the first day.”
“Not bad at all, Tom.”
It was to be the start of a long close, adventurous if not contentious friendship. Those were the best, the ones that could weather the storm. The storm was on their horizon.
IV
First Runs
Tom and Toby with Jilly at the wheel left for A-Basin early the next morning. She had some business to take care of and offered to give them a ride. What her business was she never mentioned.
“It was a birthday present from Daddy,” she remarked.
It must be nice Tom thought as he admired the deep blue Jeep Cherokee, to have all this laid at your feet. He knew she didn’t appreciate the things she had been given. The car wouldn’t last long the way she drove it.
“No matter, Daddy will buy her a new one,” he thought to himself.
She had been nice enough to give them a place to stay. She also gave them a ride to the mountain everyday. Tom was grateful. You can’t have everything. How well he knew this to be true. He could have had all these things, if only he had given up his mountain dreams. Instead, he had chosen to give up his neat secure family plan. He couldn’t equate cubicles and sterile business environments with being happy.
“There’s something wrong here,” he would say to his girlfriend, “There’s got to be more to life.”
“If you don’t stop dreaming Tom and start living your life, you’ll never amount to anything.” It was her standard reply. He took her advice. He started to live his life, started it all over again.
“I’ve got no regrets at all Toby,” he said, “This is where it all begins.”
“Where it all ends,” Toby added.
They slid sideways into the parking lot, barely missing Joe’s Mercedes, Jilly locked the breaks and came to a halt.
“Thanks for the lift,” Toby said smiling.
They both jumped out of the car. Toby leaned over after getting out.
“Maybe we’ll see you later for a drink at the Moose.”
“I might go,” she replied casually, “I’ve got some things to take care of. I might stop in later to see Sara.”
Toby was smitten with her. He was so mesmerized that he didn’t notice her flippant attitude.
“See you later Jilly, Bye,” he slammed the door.
She sat there for a second, the car idling. She took off the tires spinning and spraying Toby with loose gravel. It had been spread over the packed icy snow.
“Hey, whatta ya tryin 'to do?” he yelled.
“Wouldn’t want to get on her bad side,” Tom said.
“Any sides fine with me,” Toby watched her drive away.
“Come on, I want you to meet the man who made all this possible.”
They started for the Lodge. Reaching the first step, Tom glanced up to see Joe sitting, sipping a cup of coffee. He filled the picture window. Holding the cup between his hands, he was idly staring up the mountain. They pulled open the large glass doors and walked across the Main Lodge.
“Morning Joe,” Tom called out.
“Right on time,” Joe glanced at his watch. He admired punctuality.
“Toby White, Joe Jacobason.” The two shook hands.
“All ready for work, Boss” Tom said enthusiastically.
“Today the mountain, tomorrow the work,” Joe proclaimed. “I’m gonna give you boy’s the grand tour. Are ya interested?” Joe started toward the exit.
“Alright!” Toby yelled as the boys fell in step with him.
“Thanks Joe, I was hoping to get a few runs in today,” Tom grinned.
He felt the familiar rush of adrenalin, at thought of the powder. They walked out the door.
“Here you go Toby,” Joe handed him a lift ticket.
“Thanks Joe,” Toby said, “I’ve heard a lot about the Basin. I’ve heard there’s a lot of heart stopping trails up there.”
“Yes we have. There is 18 inches of new today.”
“The storm seemed to move out as fast as it moved in. I have never seen storms like these before,” Tom remarked.
“It isn’t uncommon for us to have to spend the night in the lodge, they are so intense. The Professor has to be bombed or it could Avalanche and close the Pass and the Parking lot. It is the top of America here!”
A few cumulus clouds drifted over as the sun shimmered off the crystals.
They bypassed the line of skiers and Joe led them through the ski patrol entry. Tom was happy he didn’t enjoy waiting in line with other skiers. He enjoyed skiing right on the lifts.
“Single?” Joe asked a pretty young girl standing alone in the lift line.
“My pleasure,” she replied as they lined up and waited for the next chair.
Tom recognized the woman loading the skiers on the chairs. The chairs had to be slowed as they came rushing around the bull wheel to scoop up the skiers. She had a small straw broom that she brushed and punded the chairs with to rid them of their snow.
“Hi Tom,” the attendant smiled.
“Hi, beautiful day,” he said, returning her smile.
“Sally,” she laughed loudly. She knew Tom didn’t remember her name.
“Hi Sally, this is Toby.”
“Nice to meet ya.” Toby said.
“Same here,” she replied as she released her grip on the chair and the boys sat and pulled the safety bar down over them.
The chair swung silently back and forth as they were being drawn from the base of the mountain toward the top. It bounced slowly up and down in between the towers. The world dropped away into silence as they rose above the treetops. The evergreens were heavily burdened with the snowfall from the previous evening. They began to thin out and the jagged rock ledges and cliffs became more pronounced. The trails white swaths cut through the pines were thick with the light dry powder snow. The rubber shiv wheels squeaked and squealed as the heavy stranded wire bounced the boys across the lift tower. Tom caught his breath. He had ridden hundreds of lifts. It was always the same. The quick little bounces across the towers scared him. The air began to grow noticeably thinner and the sun’s rays seemed to bore down more intensely from the pristine blue sky. The wind began blowing stiffer, stronger as they rose above all cover. They became small specks amidst a vast sea of whiteness. They were dwarfed by their smallness and insignificance against the silence and strangeness of the massive mountainside. The boys looked at each other and back out across the distant horizon without speaking. The unspoken thought of seeing, seeing for the first time further than the naked eye has ever seen, the deep blue of the sky, pierced by the ragged snow capped peaks. A wilderness in all directions, the lift continued its ascent toward what appeared to be a small brown dot on a far distant peak. The dot taking the shape and form of a shack, a tiny slab wood miner’s shack as the lift drew closer.
The boy’s raised the tips of their skis as they approached the summit ramp. They raised the safety bar and stood quickly as the chair pushed them along to where they could skate free of the lift. The chair resumed its endless journey around the turn style and its descent back to the base. Toby and Tyler skied up next to Joe.
“Four o’ clock by the fireplace then,” Joe said. The young lady began skiing away.
“Careful,” Tom said.
“Don’t go there,” Joe said quickly, “I’m good friends with her dad. Ready to go skiing?”
“We’ll follow the leader,” Toby said.
“I thought we’d start traversing the headwall. You’ve got to tuck it and gather as much speed as you can. If you don’t you’ll wind up climbing past the seven cornices. It’s a difficult herringbone hike up the front side to the top of the Palavachini then over into the chutes of Lover’s Leap.”
The conditions are pristine Tom thought as he slid effortlessly through the soft powder and crouched down into his tuck. He picked up his poles and tucked them under arms as he began rushing along the giant headwall. His goggles flattened out the light and mountain, but would protect him from the rushing wind. He was slicing through the snow silently on his skis, except for an occasional clacking as they would come together and touch. Tom found that if he would sit back on the tails of his skis the tips would rise out onto the top of the snow. If he leaned forward on them they would sink down into the snow, as if he were riding on a roller coaster. He was gathering momentum as he raced faster and faster across the massive headwall. The heights were dizzying as the inside of his thighs began to warm and burn slightly. It was a comfortable warm feeling. Tom was suddenly drawn down and compressed by the force of the gravity as he hit the transition. He held his skis straight and separated by about four inches. He didn’t dare cross his tips or catch and edge now, if he did he’d have a giant yard sale. Tom quickly shot up the opposite side of the hill, and skated the last few yards up to Joe. The sweat dripped from his forehead and the blood throbbed in his temples, his lungs labored heavily, trying to extract every particle of oxygen from the air at twelve thousand five hundred feet.
Joe had stopped alongside a young skier who had climbed under a roped off trail marker to his left.
“That trails been closed for a good reason,” the veins in Joe’s neck stood out, pronounced by his anger. “We’ve had some major slides down those chutes. The trail is roped off for a Damn good reason. We can’t let anyone risk skiing them today with the conditions. We’ve already bombed this area and finished our avalanche work. They were determined not to be safe. The skier slipped back under the ropes and took off down the open trail. He didn’t say a word.
“I used to do stupid things like that,” Toby admitted breathlessly.
“I don’t believe how brazen these kids are these days,” Joe shook his head. “They have no conception or fear of death. They think nothing can hurt them. They are invincible.”
“Oh come on Joe,” Tom challenged. “You can’t stand there and tell me that you never did anything crazy or daring. You wouldn’t be here today, if you didn’t crave a thrill. You need the slim chance of defeat to get your blood pumping.”
“You always have an answer for everything, don’t you Tom. Just because I survived my mistakes doesn’t mean you will my boy,” Joe spat out. He abruptly skied away.
The two men stood there shocked by his anger.
“Well excuse me,” Tom snapped.
“He’s right you know,” Toby defended Joe. “One mistake up here and you’ve made your last.”
“They’re my mistakes to make,” Tom skied off down into the evergreens.
The rest of the morning was spent in relative silence. They made several runs. Each man reflecting his own feelings against the start of another winter season, where you have been, who you are, and where you are going is inconsequential to the mountains. You are just a visitor for the moment, a visitor with a vast world at your feet.
“How about lunch, I’m starving.”
“Sounds great to me,” Toby patted his stomach.
“Last one down buys,” Joe challenged skiing off toward the base.
The boys started skating and polling. Toby was the winner, Tom finished second, and Joe trailed the boys.
“Isn’t that Jilly over there? What’s she doin?” Joe pointed to the lower parking lot. “It looks like she is taking pictures. There’s something strange about her.”
They all kicked off their skis.
“No! She’s nice,” Toby protested. “She gave us a place to stay. Besides, she’s cute.”
“Bet she’s charging you well,” Joe said. “You can do better and she doesn’t need the money.”
“It sure is a nice place to live,” Tom added in support. “So what if she's Daddy's little girl. Somebody has to be.”
“O.K. I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt,” Joe gave in. “I’d keep my eye on the lookout for trouble.”
“Always do,” Tom had to have the last word. There was always something more that had to be said, if he wasn’t the one to say it, he felt cheated. He’d have to be careful, though. Joe had already seen it and he would hate to lose his respect. He admired Joe. All that Joe had worked for and achieved left him in awe of the man behind the mountain. He was living proof that great men still existed. If you look hard enough you can realize your dreams. Luck is man made Tom thought.
This left Tom feeling the frustrations of life on the ski circuit. Next to Joe, he was a worthless drifter with nothing but a pocket full of snowflakes and memories of ski towns to call his own. Someday I’ll stop chasing snowflakes and sunsets and settle down and collect my rewards he promised himself. Except with that thought came the flashback of all the promises he had already broken, the promises of someday that never came.
V
Skier Dies
“Monday morning crap,” Joe said aloud to himself. Seated at his desk with a cup of coffee, he was contemplating the mass of salesmen that always call on this day. Salesmen were sharks in suits and ties. They were sneaky and they didn’t care who they devoured. He also had an appointment with his accountant at one and his lawyer at three. Accountants he thought less of and he tried very hard never to think of lawyers. Lawyers and the loss of money seemed to go hand and hand. They were appointments that he was not looking forward to.
“When this day is over with,” he sighed, “I’ll be one happy man.”
He reached for the last donut in the box on his desk. Just as he was about to bite into it, he heard a faint trace of a siren. It was growing louder. He stood and walked to the window. The phone began to ring. It startled him.
“Yeah this is Joe,” he barked into the phone.
“Tom here, you had better get down the road past the end of the lot. You’ll see the sheriff’s car. Come right away.”
“What’s up?”
“We found someone just off the road. He didn’t make it.”
Joe headed for the door. He leapt off the stairs and saw the flashing red lights of the ambulance and three sheriff’s patrol cars. Lance, Tom and a few employees were huddled in a circle over a crumpled form in the snow. The body was about a hundred from an avalanche run out and several feet from the road.
“It looks like he crawled out of the bottom of the chutes from the direction of the tracks. He almost made it, looks like he was trying to signal a passing car. Poor kid,” Lance said.
“Damn fool kid,” Joe’s face was flushed with anger. “He’s the one I chased off from under the ropes yesterday.”
“Yeah, I recognize the outfit,” Tom agreed.
A tall burly forest ranger ambled over to Joe. He rested his arm on his shoulder.
“Sorry to see this Joe,” he said, “It looks fairly cut and dry to me.”
“I-I don’t know what to say Burt, We warned the kid yesterday. We put up signs, roped off the trails, closed whole sections of the mountain and they still have to sneak under the ropes and ski out of bounds.”
“I’m going to have to ask you to stick around most of the day Joe. It will take awhile to notify next of kin, and to process the necessary paper work.”
“I’ll be here all day, got a lot of appointments today.”
“O.K. Joe, see you later today.”
Joe turned and started for the lodge. His hands stuffed deep in his pockets, his shoulders stooped low. Every year the Big Basin claimed lives. If they were lucky it would only be one. They either died in Avalanches in the chutes or far out of bounds. Some died skiing the Professor from the top of the Continental Divide. He tried desperately to prevent the deaths or minimize the risks. It was just the Law of Nature in the mountains.
He walked into the bar area. It was early and the bartender was setting up.
“I’ll have a quick stiff one,” he said.
The drink was poured and Joe reached down and grabbed the glass. His big hand shook unsteadily as he raised it and saluted a large sign hanging on the wall.
The sign read, “NOTHING IN MODERATION.”
VI
The Newspapers
Tom sat down at the kitchen table for his morning coffee. He expected to skim through the headlines of the morning paper as he usually did. He liked to pretend he was up on current events and fake his way through the majority of debates using plain common sense. The trouble with that is when it came to what was really going on he was lost. It wasn’t because of ignorance; it was that Tom looked at life in a simpler way. Tom’s mind was working his way through one of his challenging powder stashes. Today Tom would read.
Jilly had laid out the paper, front page up, to be sure he didn’t miss it. The headline was in bold black type, page one read:
“Arapahoe Basin: Death On The Slopes”
“I don’t believe this,” he shook his head. The story covered the entire front page of the Summit County Sentinel. Tom reread the dismal words, shaking his head over and over.
“They make it sound like it’s Joe’s fault.” He downed the last of his coffee, rolled up the paper and grabbed his coat. He was out the door on his way to the Basin without Toby. Impulsiveness was one of his strong weaknesses. Tom turned off the world and went into attack mode when a strong heavy emotion was triggered in him.
“Did you see this crap?” he held the newspaper up, storming into Joe’s office.
“Which crap are you referring to?” Joe pointed at the top of his desk. The desk was littered with papers from all over the state, especially the Capital City, Denver. They all had the same slant and innuendo’s blaming Joe personally and then the management of the resort.
“I have even received a call from the Governor’s office. They want to know what is being done to combat the mounting problems and threats of skier fatalities.”
“What is going on here Joe?” Tom asked, “This is more than just sensationalism in journalism.”
“It’s simple, the Senator wants this mountain. He owns everything from the valley floor to the entrance of the parking lot and he wants this mountain and the lease with the forest service. He has the power and he controls the government and the media and he will stop at nothing to take the mountain.”
“But it’s not true what they're printing.”
“Tom you don’t get it, the new politics are to create doubt and fear and then feed off the fear by bending the facts to benefit your cause. They control the narrative and the media.”
“You have done everything humanly possible to see that no one gets hurt up here. I know I just signed on to get a pass, but this means too much to me now. My biggest problem is I have always fallen in love with the mountains I have wintered at. I’m here to the end Joe. They can’t have this dream. There’s nowhere else to go. This is the symbol of everything I have ever believed in life. I can’t see it fall.”
“It is truly going to be a fight, a dirty dog fight in the trenches and they just fired the salvo they think will sink us. I have some artillery of my own that I’m about to let fly. I’m proud to have you on our team. We will be lucky to keep our insurance now with all this publicity.”
“I’m going to go work on the generators, I’ll fix what I know how, Today,” Tom stormed out the door of Joe’s office. Leaving him alone to contemplate his fate and the onslaught against his life’s work. They were getting closer day by day.
VII
The Senator
Jilly slid her silk robe across her thighs. She inhaled deeply on her cigarette and let
the smoke billowed out. She stubbed the remainder out in the ashtray.
“You know I am a baby. Don’t I always take care of you? I’ll see you on Sunday. We’ll make up for lost time. I promise you. I’ll be extra sweet to you.”
She leaned back on her sofa and looked across the room. Beneath a brass light hung a large aerial photo of A-Basin. Along the face of the mountain a pair of red dotted lines extended across it. They signified a proposed high speed Vista Bahn. The lower left hand corner had a large red circle drawn in a portion of the parking lot.
“No one suspects a thing. I have the pictures just like you asked. Yes, you’re absolutely correct, it would be a perfect place for a Helipad. The only thing is we are going to have to move fast. If we don’t they are going to ruin everything. They? The klutzy Olympian and his ski bum sidekick. They have been counseling Joe on ways to block the takeover and are always off skiing instead of taking care of the mountain. The place will be in shambles by the time we get our hands on it.”
She stood up and walked across the room and reached down on a portable glass bar. Raising her wine glass. She twirled it gently around and pressed her lips to the
receiver.
“Here’s to the start of a profitable partnership Senator,” she whispered.
Senator John Blackwell walked to the door of the Keystone Condominium penthouse and opened the French doors that looked out onto the slopes. Taking a long drink of brandy, tasting the warmth, he swallowed and felt the smoothness make its way down to his sizable belly. This would be the year. He had introduced legislation that would allow drilling and mining on National Forest Lands under the guise of National Security Interests. The White River National Forest above Arapahoe Basin Ski Area had large deposits of Molybdenum and the lease would soon be his. He would have it all, he would own or control all the lands and businesses from the I-70 corridor at Eisenhower Tunnel most of the town of Dillon, the Reservoir, all the way to Frisco and the Valley from the water to the Continental Divide including the Ski Areas of Keystone and Arapahoe Basin The material contracts alone for the nuclear submarines were worth more than most countries defense budgets and would make him the new breed of multi billionaire businessmen. He had plans to join the space race once he had finished extracting the metals from the mountains. There was nothing that was going to stop him, certainly not some old mountain man and a group of societal misfits bent on singing Kumbaya, My Lord and playing patty cake in powder snow. He was anointed to be a mover and a shaker, born to wealth, and privilege. There were those that were destined to rule and those destined to serve, John Blackwell served no one but John Blackwell.
Jilly quietly let herself into the penthouse and walked across the room to where the Senator was standing, staring out the window at the slopes of Keystone. She quickly slid her hands around his waist and surprised him as she hugged him tightly.
“I didn’t think the morning would ever end. The lawyers were going on and on about the difficulty of mineral rights on National Lands and the sale of precious metals even if it was to the government. How it might be construed as a conflict of interest. Honestly, it was so boring. All I could think about was spending the afternoon here with you.”
“So, it was agreed on, if I posses the lease to the ski area I also have the rights to the
minerals underneath the mountain.”
“Yes, they are all yours. I have locked that in, all that is left is the meeting at your office in Denver for the signing of the contracts. I spoke with the Insurance Underwriter and it is all taking care of. They will loose there Insurance next week. There is no way out for them. The Mountain is yours, Baby.”
“When this is completed and my divorce is final I am going to take you to Paris. I love Paris in the Spring!”
“I can’t wait for you to be rid of her, the old witch. She has been so unreasonable. If she wasn’t such an old washed up hack, I might feel sorry for her. Her and those unwanted waifs she calls children. We can have it all. You have the money and power and I will get you the missing piece, the Mountain. I told you the first night we spent together that I would deliver the Old Man and the Mountain to you. They are about to be ours, I promise you, we will spend our days on the Riviera and Entertaining the Elites.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I have learned from my time in the Senate that "It Isn’t Over, Until It’s Over. You have done well, you understand that you need to thoroughly decimate your competition to win.”
It hadn't snowed in five day's, the last traces of powder in the back bowls had settled. The heavy crud and chunks were still good skiing. The trails had been groomed and packed to perfection through this cold dry period. It would have been excellent by Eastern Standards, to the hard core Rocky Mountain powder hounds, it wasn't much fun at all. Tom was busy at work in the upstairs guest rooms of the Lodge. He was replacing old bathroom faucets for new ones. This arrangement with Joe was perfect. He would spend four hours in the morning, on a dry day, and then head up the mountain around noon. If any amount of powder had fallen, he'd ski the fresh snow until he was tired, usually in the afternoon when the tourists took over. He didn't hate other skiers, they just seemed to get in the way of his fun. It was an inside joke between the skiers on the circuit. They made fun of the tourist's because of their expensive outfits. Nine out of ten fell getting off the chair, or were a mess and skiing out of control on the mountain. The local's called them rubber Larry's for the way they waved their arms chaotically to try and gain control before they had a yard sale when they fell. Most of the bum's didn't own much more than the clothes on their backs, and their skis. Jealousy is cruel no matter who catches it. It was a perfect balance, the bum buzzing the tourists at incredible speeds, frightening and amazing them with their abilities. The tourists got their licks in by slowly crisscrossing the trails haphazardly. The ski bum's had to dodge them like racing gates.
"Come on loosen up," he yelled at the rusted old iron fitting, with a final yank the whole pipe broke off in his hands.
"Just great," he snapped. "Now, I have to..."
"Not going well, eh?" Joe stood there with his hands deep in his pockets. "There is someone here to see you. He's having lunch on the deck. You can finish tomorrow."
"Best idea I've heard all day," Tom stood up. "Don't know my own strength," he slapped his hands on his dusty work pants. Joe Stayed behind to pack as Tom ran down the hall to the locker room.
David Randall was a handsome man, short clean cut blonde hair and a salon tan. He had made his fortune selling insurance to middle aged and old retired couples. The women loved him. The men admired him for the spark he put in their wives' eyes. He was happily married with three children; Tom, Drew and Mallory. Tom knew his godson only from the pictures that David had sent to him. He felt guilty and kept promising he would spend more time with the family. Next summer, that was three summers ago. He looked at his friend with a deep envy as he approached. David had stayed behind. Tom had shown him the mountains and the freedom and the lifestyle. David had chosen to stay behind while Tom had left to find his dreams. He had built quite a life for he and his family, back East, with a fine home and all the things that make life comfortable and predictable. Tom had lived more than most men ever dream of in a lifetime. Next to David he thought he didn’t stack up. He wondered sometimes if it was all worth the sacrifices, the wandering, the loneliness. Tom wondered, that is, until the next powder run. He didn’t wonder one minute after that.
“ Well, did you bring them?”
“Bring what?”
“Come on Dave, you know.”
“Honestly Tom, I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“Dave, if you didn’t bring them, you can turn around right now and go back home and get 'em.”
David smiled broadly, turning toward an orange and blue Solomon ski bag, he pulled out a rectangular white box with lettering on it.
“Here,” he tossed the box to Tom. “There’s your Freihoffer’s Chocolate Chip Cookies, there are several more inside, in case you decide to hoard or share. I don’t care which!”
“Alright Dave! I knew you’d come through. You have no idea how happy I am, you remembered. It brings a tear to a Ski Bum’s eye,” Tom feigned, wiping away a tear.
“Couldn’t forget a friend.”
“I thought you weren’t coming until next week?”
“Change of plans old buddy, I’m on a working vacation right now. All expenses paid. Thank you very much!”
How’d you swing that?”
“Well, it turns out my venerable employer’s are underwriting A-Basin for the insurance of the new owner’s. I’m here to check things out and assess the risk.”
“Joe’s selling the Basin?” Tom could not believe the news.
“Sometime this spring, I believe. I guess he didn’t tell you. I hope I haven’t overstepped my position.”
Tom stood looking over the railing at the smiling attendant helping the long line of skiers on to the lift. He didn’t know what to say. The wind had been taken from his sails. He felt like it was his mountain being sold. It was his dream dying. Something inside of him was dying, he didn’t trust himself to speak. He had gotten so close to Joe in such a short time, he didn’t want his, whatever this was, to end. Now Joe was selling the mountain out from underneath him. Not just him, but the whole family at the Basin were losing their home.
“I-I’m sorry,” he apologized, “It’s just shocking to hear we are being sold to a lifeless corporation. There will be no more rides to the top for a finely rolled joint. All the attendant’s will be dressed like Disney Land, with their names and hometowns embroidered on their Lands’ End Parkas’. I never thought Joe would sell out like that,”
“I was told he had no choice, that everyone had their price,” David replied. He wondered if it was the right thing to say.
“Some things never change. What does the song say? The man in the suit has just bought a new car, from the profit he’s made on your dreams,” Tom said, facing his old friend.
“Would you excuse me for a couple of minutes? I got to take care of something.”
“No problem. I want to get some skiing in though.”
“We can do it. I’ll be right back,” Tom quickly turned and headed for Joe’s office.
Tom was angry now. He really shouldn’t intrude, it wasn’t his business, he had to say something. This was his home, the closest thing he had ever known to a home. Tom was a loner, a drifter, never really getting attached to anyone or any one place. He loved this mountain and couldn’t explain why his entire world was being threatened. It was the first time he wanted to stand for something. The door was open when he arrived at Joe's office and he barged right in.
“So---, You’re selling out!
“He told you, Huh?” Joe stood up, walked around his desk slowly to the door and closed it.
“I honestly can’t believe it! Why? Why would you sell to those slimy suit and tie creeps?”
“Can’t you see? There is nothing I can do. They have purchased the entire valley around me, turned the sentiment toward improvement and expansion. Quad lifts to the Pali, all the things I can’t afford. I’m the last, the last of a dying breed, the last hold out. I held out for as long as I could.”
“There is always something that can be done! It’s gutless to sell out and allow the corporate machine to perpetuate itself. We can fight them! We can win! They don’t always have to win!”
“I’m sorry son, not this time. It’s almost over, barring Divine Intervention or a Miracle it’s not likely to happen, this time.”
“I’m not buying it. We can beat them at their game. You just don’t have the guts.”
“Everything that can, has already been done. I resent being called a coward.”
Joe disliked being challenged by this young man.
“It’s not your concern Tom. You don’t know what’s going on. Keep your smart ass remarks to yourself.”
“Fine Joe,” Tom reached for the door. “Remember the Basin fell on your watch! You can crawl away into the sunset. Forget I ever cared. Forget you and the Men of the Tenth Mountain Division ever had a dream!” Tom slammed the door.
“I did try,” Joe said to no one.
Each day weighed heavier as they came and went. He wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take. Everyone would be broken by the news. It was his actions that were directly responsible. Joe reached for the phone and dialed the number for Station Three.
“Lance spread the word that there will be a meeting at the Moose Jaw. Everyone is to attend, absolutely no exceptions,” Joe hung up. He turned and glanced along the East Wall and toward the summit. He suddenly felt every year of his age.
“Good to see you, Joe. How’s the season going?”
“Best one yet, Gordon. The skier numbers are up. Why did you call me in?”
“Let me tell you.”
Gordon Hughes was the president of the Summit County National Bank and Trust. He was the man who had pushed the hardest for the loan when Joe purchased the Basin. He unbuttoned his jacket and tucked in his western shirt into his denim jeans and motioned for Joe to sit down.
“I’ve had a visit from Senator Blackwell’s Company yesterday.”
Joe sat bolt upright, his full attention focused on every word.
“At first, I thought they simply wanted the loan balance. I declined any information. Then they started asking more sensitive and indiscreet questions. For example, they wanted to know what conditions would cause us to recall the loan.”
“Jesus, by the Jesus, you didn’t discuss that with them, did you?”
“ No, of course not. But Joe, they can easily get that information and use it against you.”
“How can they as long as I fulfill the terms of my contract?’
“Joe, Joe, you and I both know there are a lot of grey areas in all contracts. Any of which, brought to the attention in the wrong light, might cause us to demand the loan payment in full. The Board of Trustees makes the final decisions. I have absolutely no say in the matter.”
Joe was beginning to realize the lengths these people would go to get what they wanted. There was no such thing as fair play. His Dad always said, “You want fair, play baseball, they have Umpires.” It was starting to seem like he had no chance, no chance whatsoever.
“Is there anything I can do?” his voice cracked in despair.
“Short of paying off the loan,” the president shook his head. “Absolutely nothing I’m afraid.”
“Thanks Gordon,” Joe stood unsteadily, “I appreciate you keeping me informed.”
“I wish I could help you,” he sat in his chair.
He was intelligent, personable. Gordon lacked creativity, there probably was something he could have done, but he would never think of it.
“Say hello to Karen for me,” he said.
“I will. Take care.”
Joe left the office feeling completely violated. They were digging deeply into his personal affairs, leaving no stone unturned. Methodically, they were picking every bit of his life apart, looking for anything and everything to force him to sell. He started the Mercedes and decided to drive up to the top of Loveland Pass and the Continental Divide.
The Meeting at the Moose Jaw
The meeting was brief and to the point. Everyone showed up and sat silently while Joe told the story. He hoped he could settle it here and now. Someone in the group asked, ”When?” It was the only word spoken by anyone except Joe. He had invited them to the Moose Jaw because he had wanted them to hear it from him. Their spirits had been broken, sitting slouched at the bar motionless and mute, like a team that had just lost their bid for the playoffs. All except Tyler and David that is. They were having a grand old time, laughing obnoxiously loud at whatever foolish thing that popped into their drunken minds. Tom would glance over at Joe standing in the corner talking quietly with Tiger the owner of the Jaw.
“Why the hell would I care?” he asked David out of the blue. It doesn’t make any difference to me if he sells the damn mountain or not.”
David sat there listening to his friend, he just let him ramble and get it out of his system.
“I’m gonna enjoy the season, even if it kills me,” Tom said dejectedly. “No way, No way am I gonna let him get to me. He did what he did, and it's no sense crying over melted snow.”
“That’s the spirit,” David attempted to change the subject, “Hey! Get my buddy another beer.”
Joe looked over at them for a moment and then caught Sara’s attention. He waved his hand above his head to signal the next round was on him.
“Next round on Joe,” she yelled to the group. No one seemed to pay attention. Several looked up and didn’t acknowledge the gesture. They went right on with their conversation. They were huddled in a small little group discussing their future and wondering how and if life could ever be the same without the Basin.
“This is one sad crew,” Sara leaned over the bar in front of Tom. “Why don’t you play some tunes, here’s some tips from the bar, play C-4 that’ll get em goin,” she handed David the money. He stepped over to the jukebox, inserted some coins and looked through the remaining songs. The music crackled and the Rolling Stones’ Satisfaction blared out of the system.
Tom laughed and began drumming on the bar.
“Great choice.”
Sara knew that he would think that she played the song with the Basin in mind. She actually played it for herself and Tom’s never ending quest for freedom. She watched him sway to the beat and wondered if there could ever be a future for them.
“Even after all these years that song still says it all,” Sara smiled at Tom.
“They were prophets,” Tom replied, singing, “I can’t get no… satisfaction,” the song continued on. More than half of his memories were tied to all these old songs. Every time he heard them, another flash from the past would start Tom thinking back. This one brought his very first girlfriend to mind. She had been a sweet girl and they had young fun. She wouldn’t do anything more than kiss. “I can’t get no….” he sang again as the song faded away.
“Are we still on for tomorrow night?”
“We sure are.”
“What about David? You can’t just brush him off.”
“He has some business in Denver all day. He won’t be back until Thursday.”
“Great! I don’t have to be here till six the following day. You can spend the night and we’ll have the next day to ourselves.” There is never enough time to spend with him, she thought.
The perspiration formed a small line of beads across Tom’s forehead. The mid-day sun burned brightly through the azure blue sky as it rose to its zenith. Tom and Sara kicked off their skis. Sara carefully placed a large silver space blanket across a flat spot in the snow and spread out a thick grey woolen blanket for the picnic. Tom removed his backpack, set it down and began laying out the lunch he had carefully prepared. Removing a bottle of Mountain Chablis from her pack, she placed it in the snow to chill.
They had chosen a small stand of pines along the side of Lover’s Leap to have their feast. Looking out at the Western slope of the Continental Divide and sitting on “the top of the world” was Tom’s first best destiny.
“I’ve seen these sights a thousand times, the smell of the pines, the cool breeze, the endless vista’s, and they're still awesome.
“I’m glad you’re here with me Tom,” Sara slipped her arm around his waist. She stood on her toes and gently kissed his neck. The touch of his warm skin sent a shiver of excitement down her spine. She felt young again, her years slipping away, a school-girl in love for the first time. Her heart filled with a warmth and joy that she hadn’t known for several years, he gave her confidence in herself, in her future again. She had become unsure of herself, unsure of her destiny. Tom had his faults, he also had a rare wonderful quality not found in many men today. He cared about the little people and the little things of life, the things that many overlook on their climb to the top.
“Oh1 My camera won’t work,” she frowned
She kept playing with it, raising it repeatedly in an attempt to take a picture.
“Tom! What am I going to do?” she slid her long red hair behind her ear and stamped her boot in the snow in little girl fashion.
He smiled at her frustration, it was the little things that endeared her to him. Tom was in trouble as far as Sara was concerned. He had always gotten away before the mountains came first. This time he sensed it wouldn’t be that easy.
“It’s O.K. We will remember this day forever.”
Tom pulled Sara close to him and hugged her tightly. He adored everything about her. They sat down and poured the wine.
“Cheers.”
He reached around to tickle her just in case she took his joke the wrong way. They fell back on the blanket giggling as he kept up the fight, legs kicking, arms flapping, laughing, enjoying a wonderful time. When the play was over they fell into each other’s embrace. A long passionate kiss filled them both with visions of love. Fulfilling that desire in heated splendor. They came to each other and gave all they could. Sun blazing, hearts pounding, they held nothing back as they reached their summit.
As they laid back in the aftermath, Sara looked deep into Tom’s eyes.
“I love you, Tom”
Tom looked closely at Sara. Although he didn’t want to hear those words he couldn’t help what came from his mouth.
“I love you too. Sara,” Tom couldn’t bring himself to say anything more.
Sara immediately knew she shouldn’t have said what she said. She had to tell him and he did however return the sentiment. She didn’t want a confrontation.
“Tom, what are you going to do with the rest of your life?”
“That’s a hell lot of ground to cover.”
“No, I mean don’t you want to settle down, raise a family. You can’t drift from mountain to mountain forever. What happened to your generation? You all became dropouts in one-way or another. It's almost the eighties Tom, the roaring eighties! It is about time you seriously thought about a career! Don’t you want to accomplish something, sales maybe?
Tom tilted his head back and let go a deep throaty laugh. Her attempt at humor amused him, it was quite charming, especially in the middle of an obviously serious question.
“Listen! All I’ve ever wanted to do is ski the Rockies. While everyone else was watching movies and dreaming about beaches and Malibu surf, I was dreaming of deep powder chutes and open snowfields. I was never like all, “The Others.” I’ve always been different. I guess we all got messed up with the Vietnam War thing.”
“Tom, the war has been over for years.”
“I know it’s just that I’ve given up every job, left my engineering education, sold or traded away everything I have ever owned to go higher and higher into the mountains. Look closely at all of this. The whiteness, the vastness, the warm alpine sunshine, the crisp clean air, the smell of the pines, all the wealth in the world can’t buy this grandeur. If you climb to the top of Loveland Pass you probably can see Mount Evans, the highest peak in Colorado. I will summit it. Then there is Mount Mckinley in Washington State. I will stand on top of it. These are only in the mid-teens and twenties. What about the Alps? The Himalaya’s?”
“I love you, but you have got to get your head out of the clouds. Get your head out Tom or you’ll never have anything. Not even me!”
“How can I give all of this up?” he gestured at the jutting peaks. “And what should I give all of this up for? The security of surrounding myself with material possessions, there isn’t any security in those things. They're pretty to look at, wonderful to touch and show people. Impress people with your worldly possessions. The winner is the one who dies with the most toys. We live in a society obsessed with symbols, status symbols. I mean even this mountain is a symbol. The highest lift serviced mountain in America. Joe skied and worked here when he was our age. He worked and built a fortune and sold his soul until he could buy it. He is the greatest symbol to the America’s.” Tom clenched his fist. “Now the multinationals are going to take this all away from him. They always get everything they want. When they don’t they change the rules, buy the politicians until they do. They control everybody and everything. Everyone conforms, like little lambs. They bow and prey to the great neon God’s run by men in suits and ties. I’ll never turn into a “Corporate Whore”. I can’t sell out. I’ll find a way. I won’t be a good little silent automaton.
“Taking a nap?” Lance Berry yelled, leaning on an old stump about twenty yards away.
Tom and Sara both sat up startled at the intrusion.
He skied over kicking a puff of snow on the blanket that was still wrapped around them as he slid to a stop.
“What would your mother say young lady?” he snapped at Sara, who was scared more than embarrassed.
“Buzz off Lance,” Tom shot back. “Don’t you have anything better to do than sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong?”
“Better than where you stick yours,” he gave Sara a disgusted look.
“Anytime Lance. You just say the word. I’ll be there.” You could cut the tension with a knife. Tom was generally a peaceful man, but some things couldn’t be overlooked..
“You wouldn’t have a chance with him,” Lance mocked as he skied off down the trail.
“Nice going Babe,” Sara slapped Tom on the back. “He could kill you, you know,” she chided.
“He’s an asshole. Come on let's eat.”
‘’Look, Look at this from the bottom line,” Tom got off the couch and began prancing up and down in front of Joe’s desk.
“In the simplest and basic terms, we’ve have to make this place worthless to them. If its no good to them, they won’t want it.”
“I could sell it to the army,” Joe wondered if General Dowe had come up with anything solid he could do.
“Better yet,” Tom brightened. “You can lease it to the Army. Give them a ninety-nine year unbreakable lease. They can use the facility as they see fit. If they choose to run it as a ski area, so be it. It would be a shame to see it fall in the hands of the Senator. I would rather see the army hold alpine exercises on the slopes with Sherman Tanks.”
“That’s not such a bad idea. If we can kill the profit, maybe they would think twice about taking us over. We should think of ways to make the ski area and operation loose money.”
Tom was beginning to understand the merits of operating in the red. They would have to accomplish a tremendous amount negative press and loosen the service up. The Basin was highly successful and the reality that the mountain delivered the real experience of its fame would be very hard to overcome.
“But seriously, that’s a good idea Tom, I’ll bring that up with the General tomorrow."
Joe was becoming desperate, his lawyer was right. Everyone wanted him to sell, the Senator had hit them where it counted, in their wallet. Once greed and expansion become the controlling factor, money and power are the only thing that feeds the monster.
David Randall was sitting in the Lodge having his third cup of coffee. He was watching a few skiers that were on the mountain this early and enjoying the sun. It was a fascinating and wonderful way to live, he thought, but it was not the way for him. Having time to think over the last couple of days, he realized his life was back with his family. How he could even think of throwing it away, made him lonely, and long for them all the more.
Tom was actually his best friend. They didn’t see each other very much any more. He had a few friends at work, but they were only business associates. The only things they ever talked about were insurance matters. It was extremely boring, even for an insurance man. He turned around to catch the two boys sneaking up behind him.
“How was Denver?” Toby asked. “They can’t run the company without you?”
“I wish that was the case. They just need someone to spout orders.”
“You mean you’re not the radical S.O.B. I’ve grown to love?” Tom questioned.
“I’m merely a shadow of my former self, caught forever in the red tape of life.”
“And quite the philosopher also,” Toby added.
“He was always good at throwing the bull,” Tom interjected.
“I hope you don’t mind Toby, but I would like to talk to Tom for a few minutes alone.”
“No problem. I have to talk to Joe anyway. See you later.”
“I’m afraid not. I am leaving today. It was great to meet you. Good Luck at the Olympics.”
“Thanks.”
“What’s up D.R.?”
“I’d like you to come back with me Tom. If not today, then very soon.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well for one, we need someone at the office. The pay is excellent. You can stay at my place until you are on your feet, financially. You can get to know your godson. I’ll even spring for the plane fare home. What do you say?”
Tom looked perplexed, like he didn’t understand a word he had said.
“You’re kidding me right?”
“No not at all. Look around you. What do you have? Not a damn thing! I’m giving you a free chance to make whatever you want out of your life. All you have to do is go for it.”
Tom stood there and just stared at his friend. He couldn’t believe what he had heard. Slowly, he shook his head, and then glanced off into the distance, deep in thought. Tom was always good at covering up his emotions. It was several long minutes before he turned his attention back to his friend.
“Look Dave, I appreciate the offer, I honestly do. It’s just I can’t go back now. Not yet, I’m not ready. Whenever there was a fight or something that I had to stand for I was the leaver. Left everything that ever meant anything to me. My gaze was always on the open road. A free spirit in the wind if you know what I mean.”
He didn’t know where the decision had come from. He had grown so much through his relationship with Sara. It was uncharted territory for him. It was in his blood, his being. It was an instinctual part of his being. He cared for little people, places and things. Whenever a decision had to be made, he would think about it for a while and let his heart make the final decision. He would always listen to his heart. When it came to the mountains, especially this mountain, it told him to stay.
“I think you're making a big mistake, Tom,” Dave lectured. “You have got to take a stand somewhere in life. Can’t you see the waste? Don’t you know the monetary value of the days you're throwing away?”
“I can’t believe you’re preaching to me about the value of time. I take every day as it comes. I relish every moment up here like it was my very last. We are only visitors here. When I’m an old man D.R. I’ll remember the days on this mountain with great fondness. Not just for the experience, but also that it was my youth and I didn’t give it away. We didn’t have to go to war. We went skiing, Dave. I climb the Professor on full moon evenings and with my friends we ski the old mine dumps in fresh powder. I don’t want the weight of your financial empire on my shoulders. You seem to be carrying it just fine, pal”
David knew when it was pointless to argue. Tom made up his mind and nothing, and no one would be able to change it. Tom’s determination was unwavering once he had a goal in sight. If a mountain was involved, he would conquer it, no amount of pain, would alter his course. It was his strong weakness.
“I guess there is nothing more to say.”
“It was good to see you again,” Tom hugged his friend.
Tom watched as David made his way across the parking lot. He had the urge to jump up and start it again with him. It wasn’t strong enough to change his mind. The internal fight raged on. The logical side wanting to build all the things he never had. The emotional side needing to drift freely through life, experience every second of everyday.
“Damn you Snowshoe Thompson, why did you have to be my Uncle and fill my head with mountain dreams?” he cursed.
Tom didn’t enjoy holidays. They were all the same: Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, just another excuse to spend money or have a party. Sara had asked him to Thanksgiving dinner with her folks but he refused. A cheeseburger platter at the diner and writing some letters was how he spent the holiday. It was typically the way he caught up with family and friends, it was the least he could do, since he didn’t visit them. It was how he was going to spend New Years. Tom had almost five pages written to his Godson and was still at it. David of course would have to do the actual reading. Young Tom would at least know his God Father was alive and well. Someday he could look back and remember those letters and get to know Uncle Tom and the mountains he loved so deeply.
Tom had always been an avid reader, He remembered his parents, once a month, opening the family diary and read stories of their history. Uncle Snowshoe, the famed skiing mailman, started the tradition. Through the generations, the album had collected hundreds of stories, it was a unique family tree passed down from father to son. The telling of stories was imprinted in Tom’s heritage. Tom contributed when he was young and he looked forward to including his mountain exploits. He wanted to give back to his family and to others less fortunate all the days he had cherished so fervently. Life itself was one long story he believed, and the best tales were beginning right now. He wrote them down when he could. He felt he owed it to his family, children and future generations. The true great legends are the ones that give back what they take.
He looked out the window. It had started snowing. The bright amber street lights illuminated the large swirling flakes. They were millions of gold coins falling from heaven.
“God really knows what he’s doing up there,” Tom thought. Sometimes he wished he had paid a little more attention to religion over the years. Living up in the mountains surrounded by all the incredible wonders makes you realize that it didn’t just happen by accident. A higher power was definitely at work.
He clicked off the light and stretched out on his bead. The room was small. It barely fit the matching dresser and the desk was jammed tight into the corner. It was at least clean and he had slept in some miserable places and some very interesting ones. In Wyoming, he slept in converted railroad box cars in bunk beds, ate in dining cars and showered in separate shower cars all for the sake of money for another season pass to Jackson Hole, Wyoming and a chance to ski Corbett’s Colouir. This was a pleasure. The falling snow reminded him of building a lean-to in the White River National Forest. He had slept through a fierce blizzard only to be awakened by a hoot owl. He could have sworn it called out his name. The owl had saved his life.
He looked up at the ticking alarm clock. It read 1:15 in the morning.
“Happy New Year, Tom My Boy,” he said to himself. The New Year had come and gone while he had been so engrossed in his writing. He reflected cheerfully that a full year had gone bye. It seemed to him that the years flew by quicker. The changes are the only things that remain the same in life. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and silently prayed. Not for anyone or anything in particular, but just to let God know he was trying his best to lead a good life. What better way to live than to enjoy and love the magnificent work and the fresh powder he had lain down for him.
“Thank you,” he whispered. He drifted off to sleep.
Toby had been slacking off the last couple of weeks. He was staying out late, sleeping in extra late, and not showing up. It was hard for an eighteen-year old boy, with all the distractions around him, to dedicate his every waking moment to one sole purpose. The only way to attain a goal is absolute single minded desire. Push until it hurts, and then start pushing.
He was blaming everyone but himself for his poor performance. Sara mixed the drinks too stiff, Tom didn’t wake him on time. He was harder to live with than Jilly. He rarely rode to the Basin with her anymore. If he made it there by noon, he was lucky, he missed more days than he skied. It turned out that his biggest downfall was his lack of ambition. Hard work was not his strong suit. Putting everything off until tomorrow, he didn’t realize that tomorrow never comes until it's too late. The only thing that every skier on the circuit knows is that the season ends too soon. You have to love each moment as if it was your last moment, and spend it as if you were wealthy beyond belief. If you don’t its over, and you're left with nothing except wasted time and pockets full of empty dreams. Toby had always had the best equipment and training available through NASTAR Racing, his parents had made sure of that and supported him all the way. They spoiled him as parents do, but they never realized the effect it would have on him now. Accustomed to getting it all, he didn’t know how to give, never having had to learn. He had no idea what the game was like, and it was all coming due. Having to play it all by himself for the first time, he was lost.
“I don’t believe you, Toby, you’re a real jerk,” Tom said, pointing his finger in his face. “You have got more than 99% of the people on this planet have, and you're drinking it all away.”
Toby just rolled his eyes, and took another long swig.
“You’re so blind drunk that you don’t even know that you’re hurting yourself. I would love to see you go all the way, but if you don’t care, why should I. I don’t know why I’m saying this. Just forget it.”
Tom grabbed his glass to take another drink, but he put it down and pushed it away. He looked around the room at all the intoxicated people having a drunken time. In disgust, he shook his head. He had been drinking since he was fifteen, and never thought about it until now. Looking back at his friend, he saw him throwing his life away in the name of harmless fun. The reasons he had, didn’t matter. It was his inability to realize the situation and deal with it that was the cause of his trouble.
“Sara get my friend here for another drink. In fact, get him two, I think he needs them.”
“Take it easy Tom.”
“Yesh come on Tom, give ush ,” Toby slurred.
Tom had given up hope.
“I think you have had enough Toby,” Sara said, taking away his glass.
“Hey come on,” Toby yelled. He spilled Tom’s drink grabbing for his.
Tom and Sara looked at each other. They didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t even spell his own name. You can’t argue with someone who is not present.
“Call a cab Sara. I’ll take this mess home. Come on Tobe, let's get some fresh air.”
Helping Toby up from his chair, he ushered him out the door. He sat him down on the front step and leaned him up against the railing. Tom stood and watched his friend slumped over and barely conscious. He wanted to do something, but nothing had worked. Toby was just getting worse.
The cab pulled up and Tom lifted Toby into the back seat. As they were driving away, he remembered similar nights like this with David. He was the same back in high school. They would drink until they passed out. He had no control over it, and no desire to stop it. If it hadn’t been for his girlfriend Michelle, he wouldn’t have made it. The love of a beautiful woman can be a strong lifelong influence on a man’s character. Toby needed something to break him free of his self-destructive path. Unless things change very soon, it would be only a matter of time before there was nothing anyone could do.
The next morning Tom left Toby once again snoring away in his bed. He rode up to the Basin with Jilly. There were a few minor repairs that were needed for some time. Joe came up behind him with someone he didn’t recognize as he was finishing replacing a door lock.
“Tom, this is John Weston. Toby’s NASTAR coach from Steamboat.”
He looked closely at the short solidly built man.
“I’m glad to meet you,” he said, shaking his hand firmly. He was surprised to see him. After writing a letter to him about Toby’s problem, he had expected to hear some advice, he hadn’t expected him to come in person.
“Toby’s not here?” His voice was strong and demanding.
“You two have a lot to talk about. I’ll go see if I can round him up.”
“You tell him I’ll kick his butt if he’s not here in exactly one hour. Tell him one hour Joe,” Coach demanded.
Joe started out hoping Toby wasn’t going to be a problem to convince.
Tom and Coach Weston sat down to catch up on all that was going on in Toby’s life.
“It’s good to see that Toby’s found such a good friend. Most skiers on the circuit couldn’t care less about such a deep personal problem. They’d be glad something gave them an edge.”
“Toby means a lot to me.”
“I could tell from your letter. It’s why I’m here. What the hell happened?”
“To tell you the truth, I don’t know. He was doing great, good ski times, focused. Right up until Christmas, then he just fell apart.”
Coach sat there with his elbows on the table, and his hands under his chin. He was looking off in the distance.
“Christmas? Just before Christmas?” Coach inquired.
“Yeah. There was a party a couple of days before, that’s why I remember. He was wasted then and has been ever since!”
“That has got to be it,” Coach looked at Tom.
“What? What’s got to be it?”
“Three years ago Toby lost his brother in an avalanche two days before Christmas. He was devastated.”
Tom sat back, his mouth open wide in disbelief. He listened intently to the story.
“They were in Alta, Utah. They were skiing along the High Traverse. If you have ever been there, you know just how treacherous it really is. They were heading across to ski Eagle’s Nest. Toby’s a very strong skier. His brother was good, but not as good as him. Anyway, as near as anyone can tell, Toby was clowning around. His brother dropped into Eagle’s Nest, Toby followed. He was going to ski down and knock his brother over. There was 18 inches of new powder the night before. It had fallen on sun baked hard back and was loose and unstable. It fractured, creating a large slab slide. It took his brother out. He didn’t ski for a long time after. We all thought he had gotten past it.. They were as close as brother’s could be. Apparently we were wrong.”
“He never told me,” Tom said.
“Toby doesn’t talk about it with anyone. He blocked it out like it never happened and threw himself into downhill racing. When he came back, he was better than he had ever been. Extremely focused and dedicated. He may have taken a few more risks than I approved of.”
Coach worked with bodies not minds. This went deeper than just winning races and training skiers to go fast, safely.
“It all makes sense now, a few weeks before Toby started getting crazy, we warned a skier off the out of bounds ropes. The next morning we found him, caught in a slide. He had never made it out. Toby saw him from on the hill. His legs were broken, and he had crawled to several yards from the road. His arm was outstretched and he was frozen in an attempt to signal a passing car.
“That’s what brought it all on again.” Coach agreed. “He never really dealt with it in the first place.”
“He must have seen his brother lying there when they carried him off.”
“Hi Coach!” Toby yelled walking out of the lodge. He jogged to the table. The two men stared at each other blankly. He acted as if nothing was wrong. It seemed there was a wall around him and nobody knew what was inside. Coach hadn’t said a word, when Tom stood up all of a sudden, knocking over his chair.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me you had a brother?”
Toby glared at coach, then back at Tom
“What’s the difference? It happened a long time ago. He’s gone, there’s nothing you or anybody can do.”
“I’m your friend for Christ’s sake. I want to help you. Don’t you know that by now!”
“HE’S GONE TOM! You can’t change that.”
“I’m not talking about him, it’s you. You can’t tell me you didn’t see his face lying out in the snow that day.”
Toby closed his eyes tightly attempting to ward off the vision. The memories were painful. He didn’t deal with it then, and he didn’t want to deal with it now. Tom walked over and took him by the shoulders.
“Look at me Toby,” Tom’s voice echoed through the Lodge. “I know you loved your brother. No one can ever change that or take it away from you. He’s gone and nothing can undo that. You can’t let him down by throwing away your life also.”
Toby was starting to fight back against Tom’s grip, but he held firmly. If he didn’t keep up the pressure no one would.
“He didn’t throw his life away and I’m not either, back off Tom. It’s none of your business.”
Toby was beginning to lose it. Tom didn’t want to fight, but he felt he had to draw his emotions out. He began grabbing for Tom attempting to knock him away. All the years of sorrow and anger came out at that moment. His feelings were rushing up in a blur and they were directed at Tom. They wrestled each other to the floor, pushing tables and chairs around. Tom could barely dodge some of his blows. Whenever Toby broke free of Tom’s grip, he started swinging, Tom had to lunge at his midsection to protect himself.
Joe stepped forward to stop it when Coach motioned to him to let it go. When they finally had spent every ounce of energy, they stopped, pushed each other back and fell to the floor breathing heavily. Joe and Coach lifted them up and into a couple of chairs. They took a few minutes to regain their strength as the moment sunk in. Toby looked over at Tom and realized what he had done.
“You’ve got a lot of guts for an old ski bum,” he said, cracking a faint smile.
“I was just getting started,” Tom replied, rubbing his shoulder.
“I’d like a few more rounds with you someday,” Toby said.
“Anytime,” Tom replied, lying through his teeth.
“Coach?” he said standing up. “How about a few more runs? I’ve got a lot of work to do, so I could use the advice.”
“Let’s go,” he said,” Times a wastin.”
He gave a nod to Tom as they turned to begin the next phase of Toby’s training.
Joe sat down next to Tom who was still trying to catch his breath.
“I thought I’d seen it all.”
“I was lucky.”
“You were great,” he looked at Tom, his arms folded, he was wincing from the thrashing he had just received. He knew Tom was special, but this young man really cared for the people and things he believed in. If he had a son, he would have liked him to be like Tom. The life that could have been, he thought, in a past that was all too quickly coming to an end.
Sara stopped and stared longingly into the window of Branigan’s Shop. The hand-tooled golden brown leather cowboy boots were still there, right next to the gorgeous knee high riding jodhpurs. They had black and red stitching in a simple yet striking design. The boots would be perfect for her date next Thursday night.
“Aren’t they absolutely adorable,” she cooed.
“They sure would turn a lot of heads,” Tom replied, “Why don’t you try em on.”
“I already have. The fit is perfect. They wouldn’t even have to be broken in.”
“So, buy them.”
“No, no, they’re too expensive.”
“Come on,” he nudged her. “You need a new pair anyway. Besides, ya said they were perfect. Go ahead, go for it.”
“Tom, I just can’t afford it,” she retorted, her eyes riveted to the boots. She was struggling desperately with herself to forget logic. She had the urge to splurge for once.
Sara turned and walked away, her logic winning again. Tom grabbed her arm, and quickly pulled her into the store.
“Come on, I wanna see you in them.”
“Hi, Mr. Brannigan,” Sara approached the counter.
“Well, hello there Sara,” the soft-spoken owner replied. He towered above them both.
“How’s your Dad? Haven't seen em round lately.”
“He’s fine. Moms got the flu, but she’s getting better.”
“You tell her to get plenty of rest before she goes back to work. You know how that flu is round here, if she doesn't it’ll never leave till spring.”
Tom loved the easy relaxed atmosphere. No pressure, no running around, no hustle, no bustle, it was a simple way of life.
“What can I do for you today?”
Sara stood gently running her fingers through her hair. She was curling the ends between her thumb and forefinger, staring hopefully at the leather boots in the window.
“Oh… It’s the boots again,” he knowingly remembered the last time she had come in, how much she had wanted them.
“Can I try them just once more?”
He smiled widely and walked to the window, lifting them off the display. They were his last pair in that style. They happened to be her size. She slid into them like they were made for her body.
“Whatta ya think Tom?” She pirouetted across the floor in front of him. Her blue denim skirt flared out as she twirled and danced, her auburn hair flowing out in an arc away from her body.
“You’re the Sweetheart of the Rodeo, in them,” Tom said lovingly.
Mr. Brannigan stood watching the young loving couple. He thought of his wife and he, many years before. He scratched his chin.
Ell ya what I’m gonna do, darling,” his eyes twinkled. “I’ll give ‘em to ya for cost, since they’re the last pair left. You folks helped me through some very lean years. I think it’s about time I returned the favor.”
“Sara’s parents had run the General Store in Old Dillion for close to thirty years. She remembered Mr. Brannigan coming in ever since she was a little girl. Her father had given him credit when he had needed it most. There were some difficult years in the early Sixties. The Denver water Board had begun buying up Dillion Property from the owner’s who were unable to raise tax money during the Depression years. By the late Forties they owned most of Old Dillion. In the late Fifty’s, they all but crippled the community by announcing plans for damming the lush delta formed by the trinity of rivers, the mighty,Blue, Ten Mile, and Snake Rivers, referred to as Nah-Oon-Kara, The Valley of the Blue, by the Uncompahgre Ute Native Tribes. They would build Roberts Tunnel, 23 miles long, starting in 1951 under the Continental Divide Mountains, to the North Fork and South Platte River, to supply the blossoming Denver Metropolis with much needed water. They had given the homeowners and businessmen until 1961 to vacate. If it hadn’t been for the closeness of the Community, they might never have survived. They not only survived, but with the new Reservoir and Eisenhower Tunnel through the Divide, they began prospering. The townspeople still helped each other.
“Really,” Sara couldn’t hide her delight. Tom stood grinning from ear to ear. Mr. Brannigan grabbed her old boots, and put them in the box. He went behind the counter and wrote out the sales slip.
“If you can’t afford them now, give me what you can, and come back and pay the balance when you’ve got it.”
Sara kept looking down at her feet as they walked out the door.
“You take care now Sara Lyn.”
“Thanks again Mr. Brannigan,”Sara waved as they went out into the street.
She slid out of her blue knapsack, and gave Tom a big hug.
“Wha- What’s that for?”
“Well, you were the one who made me go in there in the first place. If not for you, I’d still be in those beat up old things. Besides,” she said, pulling on her pack and flipping her hair out from under it. “A girl doesn’t need a reason to hug her man.”
She turned and started down the street, Sara loved him more and more each day. Every little thing they did together was special. She looked down at her feet and started crying.
“Now what are you crying for?”
“Honestly Tom, you may know everything there is to know about mountains, but when it comes to women. You’re such a big jerk! She started walking away. Tom stood there raising his hands.
“What did I do?”
Every moment they shared was better than the last. Her only problem was in not being able to say it. She couldn’t hold it much longer. Win or lose, she had to face the consequences. She hated not knowing the future, and was afraid of living for today.
It’s a fair offer Joe”
Joe was standing motionless with his back to his lawyer, staring out the window. It was a fair offer but that wasn’t the point.
“How the hell can you sit there and tell me that. God Dammit! You’re supposed to be on my side.”
Joe walked around to the front of the desk, and sat down in one of the three leather chairs. They were all facing John Staller, Joe’s attorney of thirty years.
“Give me a break, huh. I’m on your side. I’m a realist. We’ve held on for a long time because you have friends in high places. You’ve got to understand, Joe, they’re gone, and now the Senator is the Valley. He owns or controls everything.”
“The Senator is not the issue here. I shouldn’t have to sell him anything.”
“Jesus Joe, will you wake up. The Senator is the issue. He takes whatever he want s because he owns the whole frigging valley, it's all gone cept you, Joe. They’ve convinced everyone you’re an eccentric old crazy fool who wants to live out his last days at the “Top of the World.”
Joe let out a chuckle.
“Sometimes I feel like I am John. I feel like I’m beating my head against an unbreakable concrete ceiling.”
“Listen! I understand what this means to you. You worked your entire life to own Arapahoe Basin. It’s gone, like most of the great men of the Tenth Mountain Armor Division, you can’t fight them any longer. When that team of Corporate Whore Lawyers come back to this office, they will be expecting only one answer Joe.”
eeee
Joe stood up, tucked his khaki shirt into his denims and went to the window. He stood looking toward the summit of the big basin. Even from this distance it rose piercing the skies. He shook his head.
“Send them back in," he whispered, barely audible.
The Betrayal
“Yes Sir. I’ve already taken care of that.”
General Matthew Dowe was sitting at attention behind his polished oak desk. There aren’t many men a General in the United States Army has to answer to, but he was talking to one now.
“I sent you a memo the last time he called. There was no reason to bother you with it, then. He was hoping he could make this conversation as short as possible.
“This time he wants action. Well what should I do? Yes, I already have someone on the inside.
He covered the receiver and took a long deep breath. Thank God this is over the phone, he thought to himself. He wasn’t up to a confrontation with this man.
“Yes Sir. I realize that. I won’t do anything then. Sorry to bother you.”
The connection broke before he could get those last words out. He hung up the phone and clasped his hands on the desktop in front of him. Betraying a friend was not his style. He hated it, but he had no choice. Besides there were no friends in business or war, these days those concepts were interchangeable. You can’t have one without the other. The only difference is the battles are fought with pen and paper, not guns and soldiers.
The General opened the bottom drawer, and took out a bottle of twelve-year old scotch. He poured himself a stiff glass half full. He sat back and took a big long drink, rolling the golden liquid around his tongue.
“There’s no room in this world anymore for friends,” he said to no one. He finished the drink in one gulp, and refilled the glass.
“Good Luck Joe!” he toasted his former friend.
The barren one room apartment at the top of the stairs was stark and cold. The stained sheets on the single bed were crumpled and unmade as usual. A table with chairs sat against the opposite wall. On the top of the table a large glass ashtray was overflowing with cigarette butts and empty gum wrappers. A tin of Skoal sat alongside three empty beer cans. They were stacked in a pyramid. In the third drawer of the dresser, by the only window was a 38 midnight special, a German luger, and a 44 magnum, all loaded. The front wall by the door was covered with posters and newspaper clippings pertaining to the Vietnam War. A few foldouts of pin up girls, gave a sharp contrast of images in the room. It radiated a disturbing feeling for the eclectic nature of the designer. In the fourth drawer buried beneath a pile of dingy grey underwear were the timer, electrical cord and plastic explosives.
Lance Berry was sitting cross-legged on a pillow against \the empty wall across from the door. Although his eyes were closed, he was wide-awake. He had been sitting communing with whatever thoughts flashed through his mind for over two hours. A peaceful look accentuated the rugged features that you would hardly notice. Deep dark eyes, and a once broken nose sat above a thin straight mouth that never smiled, his body, a well oiled machine, hard and strong. It was tense and ready for whatever might be demanded of it. He added more and more lines to the page as an incredibly scaled drawing of Arapahoe Basin began to appear. Lance knew every square foot of the area and transferred that image in his mind to the paper in front of him. In detailed precision he captured every structure from the lift towers to the lodge. He drew caricatures representing people at different positions on the map. In a corner he wrote: A-Basin, 4-1-78 3:45 PM. Sitting back he stared at his work and was scanning it for mistakes, tapping his pencil obsessively on his leg. Assured of his perfection, he grabbed the warm can of beer from the table and finished it in one gulp. Neatly, he stacked it up against the other four, grabbing his Skoal he pinched out a portion and tucked it into his cheek. Turning his attention to his drawing, he examined it carefully and after a few moments he took his pencil and made a large X through the number three lift station.
“Stick to your Politics Senator and leave the mountains to the Mountain Men. You think just because all the other people in the Valley laid down at your feet, I’m going to. You’ve got a rude awakening. I’ll blow the whole mountain before I see you get it.”
Denver was less than an hour's drive and she was already on her third cigarette. This meeting was everything to her. It would show the real powers in Summit County just what she was made of. She wasn’t proud of the way she had arrived at this prestigious position. Everyone does it, she thought. Why shouldn’t she? She hoped Daddy never finds out. He wouldn’t like her sleeping with one of his business associates. If he ever learned the truth, he could easily destroy all the plans she had made. Her mother had cheated on him several years before. It had never been the same. If he had only known how many times she had slept around, he wouldn’t have taken her back. She would be lucky if he had let her live. You don’t mess with Daddy.
She turned down Speer Boulevard toward the twelve story glass and steel Corporate Offices of the Senator, approaching the building where the takeover was being designed. A young valet took her car at the entrance, and she walked into the elevator past the reception desk as the young woman behind it smiled and said, ”He’s expecting you.”
The door slid open as she approached clutching her briefcase tightly and stepped in. The elevator was empty. Jilly pressed the Loft Button, where number twelve should be. She rode up planning her strategy. Her black dress was smart and well groomed but not sexy. Sex was the last thing she wanted them to notice. It was what had gotten her through the door, her abilities would have to do the rest. She would be pleasant but not seductively so. The older Board members would see right through her, her most attractive attribute would have to be confidence. She had the drive and the heart to be the best, but she also had all the fine trimmings. The right combination of each would take her to the Top. The elevator came to the top and the doors slid open. Jilly stepped out and saw people running in every direction. They were checking their watches and carrying stacks of papers. It was frantic with people trying to keep the offices moving along smoothly. Loving to see people working hard, it gave her a deep sense of security. This is the way I’m going to run the Basin, she thought. No one will slack off on my team.
Jilly walked down the long grey corridor passed the many different branches of the corporate giant. Each small cubicle was alive, crawling with activity. Every cubicle performs its own function, each worker a drone performing their task. She noticed there were very few decorations, anywhere. She felt a stark coldness in the cubes where the single purpose was only------work. Walking into the main office at the end of the hallway, the receptionist looked up. She eyed her coldly but it was pleasant. Jilly sat and waited for her moment of truth. She watched her chewing and snapping her gum, answering her phone and taking memos.
“What a sleaze,” she thought,” I wonder how she got this job?”
“They’ll see you now, the last door on the right.”
Jilly stood without saying a word. She stopped briefly at the wooden door. Meeting room #1 was etched into the polished brass plate. She adjusted her scarf, and buttoned the next higher button on her blouse. Smoothing the wrinkles in her skirt she took a deep breath and closed the door behind her.
“Gentlemen,” she smiled, looking each one of them directly in the eye. Walking to the head of the long table, she laid her briefcase in front of her. Clicking open the two latches, she removed her documents. She raised her head to look at them, although this time she did not smile.
Tom didn’t enjoy holidays. They were all the same: Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, just another excuse to spend money or have a party. Sara had asked him to Thanksgiving dinner with her folks but he refused. A cheeseburger platter at the diner and writing some letters was how he spent the holiday. It was typically the way he caught up with family and friends, it was the least he could do, since he didn’t visit them. It was how he was going to spend New Years. Tom had almost five pages written to his Godson and was still at it. David of course would have to do the actual reading. Young Tom would at least know his God Father was alive and well. Someday he could look back and remember those letters and get to know Uncle Tom and the mountains he loved so deeply.
Tom had always been an avid reader, He remembered his parents, once a month, opening the family diary and read stories of their history. Uncle Snowshoe, the famed skiing mailman, started the tradition. Through the generations, the album had collected hundreds of stories, it was a unique family tree passed down from father to son. The telling of stories was imprinted in Tom’s heritage. Tom contributed when he was young and he looked forward to including his mountain exploits. He wanted to give back to his family and to others less fortunate all the days he had cherished so fervently. Life itself was one long story he believed, and the best tales were beginning right now. He wrote them down when he could. He felt he owed it to his family, children and future generations. The true great legends are the ones that give back what they take.
He looked out the window. It had started snowing. The bright amber street lights illuminated the large swirling flakes. They were millions of gold coins falling from heaven.
“God really knows what he’s doing up there,” Tom thought. Sometimes he wished he had paid a little more attention to religion over the years. Living up in the mountains surrounded by all the incredible wonders makes you realize that it didn’t just happen by accident. A higher power was definitely at work.
He clicked off the light and stretched out on his bead. The room was small. It barely fit the matching dresser and the desk was jammed tight into the corner. It was at least clean and he had slept in some miserable places and some very interesting ones. In Wyoming, he slept in converted railroad box cars in bunk beds, ate in dining cars and showered in separate shower cars all for the sake of money for another season pass to Jackson Hole, Wyoming and a chance to ski Corbett’s Colouir. This was a pleasure. The falling snow reminded him of building a lean-to in the White River National Forest. He had slept through a fierce blizzard only to be awakened by a hoot owl. He could have sworn it called out his name. The owl had saved his life.
He looked up at the ticking alarm clock. It read 1:15 in the morning.
“Happy New Year, Tom My Boy,” he said to himself. The New Year had come and gone while he had been so engrossed in his writing. He reflected cheerfully that a full year had gone bye. It seemed to him that the years flew by quicker. The changes are the only things that remain the same in life. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and silently prayed. Not for anyone or anything in particular, but just to let God know he was trying his best to lead a good life. What better way to live than to enjoy and love the magnificent work and the fresh powder he had lain down for him.
“Thank you,” he whispered. He drifted off to sleep.
Toby had been slacking off the last couple of weeks. He was staying out late, sleeping in extra late, and not showing up. It was hard for an eighteen-year old boy, with all the distractions around him, to dedicate his every waking moment to one sole purpose. The only way to attain a goal is absolute single minded desire. Push until it hurts, and then start pushing.
He was blaming everyone but himself for his poor performance. Sara mixed the drinks too stiff, Tom didn’t wake him on time. He was harder to live with than Jilly. He rarely rode to the Basin with her anymore. If he made it there by noon, he was lucky, he missed more days than he skied. It turned out that his biggest downfall was his lack of ambition. Hard work was not his strong suit. Putting everything off until tomorrow, he didn’t realize that tomorrow never comes until it's too late. The only thing that every skier on the circuit knows is that the season ends too soon. You have to love each moment as if it was your last moment, and spend it as if you were wealthy beyond belief. If you don’t its over, and you're left with nothing except wasted time and pockets full of empty dreams. Toby had always had the best equipment and training available through NASTAR Racing, his parents had made sure of that and supported him all the way. They spoiled him as parents do, but they never realized the effect it would have on him now. Accustomed to getting it all, he didn’t know how to give, never having had to learn. He had no idea what the game was like, and it was all coming due. Having to play it all by himself for the first time, he was lost.
“I don’t believe you, Toby, you’re a real jerk,” Tom said, pointing his finger in his face. “You have got more than 99% of the people on this planet have, and you're drinking it all away.”
Toby just rolled his eyes, and took another long swig.
“You’re so blind drunk that you don’t even know that you’re hurting yourself. I would love to see you go all the way, but if you don’t care, why should I. I don’t know why I’m saying this. Just forget it.”
Tom grabbed his glass to take another drink, but he put it down and pushed it away. He looked around the room at all the intoxicated people having a drunken time. In disgust, he shook his head. He had been drinking since he was fifteen, and never thought about it until now. Looking back at his friend, he saw him throwing his life away in the name of harmless fun. The reasons he had, didn’t matter. It was his inability to realize the situation and deal with it that was the cause of his trouble.
“Sara get my friend here for another drink. In fact, get him two, I think he needs them.”
“Take it easy Tom.”
“Yesh come on Tom, give ush ,” Toby slurred.
Tom had given up hope.
“I think you have had enough Toby,” Sara said, taking away his glass.
“Hey come on,” Toby yelled. He spilled Tom’s drink grabbing for his.
Tom and Sara looked at each other. They didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t even spell his own name. You can’t argue with someone who is not present.
“Call a cab Sara. I’ll take this mess home. Come on Tobe, let's get some fresh air.”
Helping Toby up from his chair, he ushered him out the door. He sat him down on the front step and leaned him up against the railing. Tom stood and watched his friend slumped over and barely conscious. He wanted to do something, but nothing had worked. Toby was just getting worse.
The cab pulled up and Tom lifted Toby into the back seat. As they were driving away, he remembered similar nights like this with David. He was the same back in high school. They would drink until they passed out. He had no control over it, and no desire to stop it. If it hadn’t been for his girlfriend Michelle, he wouldn’t have made it. The love of a beautiful woman can be a strong lifelong influence on a man’s character. Toby needed something to break him free of his self-destructive path. Unless things change very soon, it would be only a matter of time before there was nothing anyone could do.
The next morning Tom left Toby once again snoring away in his bed. He rode up to the Basin with Jilly. There were a few minor repairs that were needed for some time. Joe came up behind him with someone he didn’t recognize as he was finishing replacing a door lock.
“Tom, this is John Weston. Toby’s NASTAR coach from Steamboat.”
He looked closely at the short solidly built man.
“I’m glad to meet you,” he said, shaking his hand firmly. He was surprised to see him. After writing a letter to him about Toby’s problem, he had expected to hear some advice, he hadn’t expected him to come in person.
“Toby’s not here?” His voice was strong and demanding.
“You two have a lot to talk about. I’ll go see if I can round him up.”
“You tell him I’ll kick his butt if he’s not here in exactly one hour. Tell him one hour Joe,” Coach demanded.
Joe started out hoping Toby wasn’t going to be a problem to convince.
Tom and Coach Weston sat down to catch up on all that was going on in Toby’s life.
“It’s good to see that Toby’s found such a good friend. Most skiers on the circuit couldn’t care less about such a deep personal problem. They’d be glad something gave them an edge.”
“Toby means a lot to me.”
“I could tell from your letter. It’s why I’m here. What the hell happened?”
“To tell you the truth, I don’t know. He was doing great, good ski times, focused. Right up until Christmas, then he just fell apart.”
Coach sat there with his elbows on the table, and his hands under his chin. He was looking off in the distance.
“Christmas? Just before Christmas?” Coach inquired.
“Yeah. There was a party a couple of days before, that’s why I remember. He was wasted then and has been ever since!”
“That has got to be it,” Coach looked at Tom.
“What? What’s got to be it?”
“Three years ago Toby lost his brother in an avalanche two days before Christmas. He was devastated.”
Tom sat back, his mouth open wide in disbelief. He listened intently to the story.
“They were in Alta, Utah. They were skiing along the High Traverse. If you have ever been there, you know just how treacherous it really is. They were heading across to ski Eagle’s Nest. Toby’s a very strong skier. His brother was good, but not as good as him. Anyway, as near as anyone can tell, Toby was clowning around. His brother dropped into Eagle’s Nest, Toby followed. He was going to ski down and knock his brother over. There was 18 inches of new powder the night before. It had fallen on sun baked hard back and was loose and unstable. It fractured, creating a large slab slide. It took his brother out. He didn’t ski for a long time after. We all thought he had gotten past it.. They were as close as brother’s could be. Apparently we were wrong.”
“He never told me,” Tom said.
“Toby doesn’t talk about it with anyone. He blocked it out like it never happened and threw himself into downhill racing. When he came back, he was better than he had ever been. Extremely focused and dedicated. He may have taken a few more risks than I approved of.”
Coach worked with bodies not minds. This went deeper than just winning races and training skiers to go fast, safely.
“It all makes sense now, a few weeks before Toby started getting crazy, we warned a skier off the out of bounds ropes. The next morning we found him, caught in a slide. He had never made it out. Toby saw him from on the hill. His legs were broken, and he had crawled to several yards from the road. His arm was outstretched and he was frozen in an attempt to signal a passing car.
“That’s what brought it all on again.” Coach agreed. “He never really dealt with it in the first place.”
“He must have seen his brother lying there when they carried him off.”
“Hi Coach!” Toby yelled walking out of the lodge. He jogged to the table. The two men stared at each other blankly. He acted as if nothing was wrong. It seemed there was a wall around him and nobody knew what was inside. Coach hadn’t said a word, when Tom stood up all of a sudden, knocking over his chair.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me you had a brother?”
Toby glared at coach, then back at Tom
“What’s the difference? It happened a long time ago. He’s gone, there’s nothing you or anybody can do.”
“I’m your friend for Christ’s sake. I want to help you. Don’t you know that by now!”
“HE’S GONE TOM! You can’t change that.”
“I’m not talking about him, it’s you. You can’t tell me you didn’t see his face lying out in the snow that day.”
Toby closed his eyes tightly attempting to ward off the vision. The memories were painful. He didn’t deal with it then, and he didn’t want to deal with it now. Tom walked over and took him by the shoulders.
“Look at me Toby,” Tom’s voice echoed through the Lodge. “I know you loved your brother. No one can ever change that or take it away from you. He’s gone and nothing can undo that. You can’t let him down by throwing away your life also.”
Toby was starting to fight back against Tom’s grip, but he held firmly. If he didn’t keep up the pressure no one would.
“He didn’t throw his life away and I’m not either, back off Tom. It’s none of your business.”
Toby was beginning to lose it. Tom didn’t want to fight, but he felt he had to draw his emotions out. He began grabbing for Tom attempting to knock him away. All the years of sorrow and anger came out at that moment. His feelings were rushing up in a blur and they were directed at Tom. They wrestled each other to the floor, pushing tables and chairs around. Tom could barely dodge some of his blows. Whenever Toby broke free of Tom’s grip, he started swinging, Tom had to lunge at his midsection to protect himself.
Joe stepped forward to stop it when Coach motioned to him to let it go. When they finally had spent every ounce of energy, they stopped, pushed each other back and fell to the floor breathing heavily. Joe and Coach lifted them up and into a couple of chairs. They took a few minutes to regain their strength as the moment sunk in. Toby looked over at Tom and realized what he had done.
“You’ve got a lot of guts for an old ski bum,” he said, cracking a faint smile.
“I was just getting started,” Tom replied, rubbing his shoulder.
“I’d like a few more rounds with you someday,” Toby said.
“Anytime,” Tom replied, lying through his teeth.
“Coach?” he said standing up. “How about a few more runs? I’ve got a lot of work to do, so I could use the advice.”
“Let’s go,” he said,” Times a wastin.”
He gave a nod to Tom as they turned to begin the next phase of Toby’s training.
Joe sat down next to Tom who was still trying to catch his breath.
“I thought I’d seen it all.”
“I was lucky.”
“You were great,” he looked at Tom, his arms folded, he was wincing from the thrashing he had just received. He knew Tom was special, but this young man really cared for the people and things he believed in. If he had a son, he would have liked him to be like Tom. The life that could have been, he thought, in a past that was all too quickly coming to an end.
Sara stopped and stared longingly into the window of Branigan’s Shop. The hand-tooled golden brown leather cowboy boots were still there, right next to the gorgeous knee high riding jodhpurs. They had black and red stitching in a simple yet striking design. The boots would be perfect for her date next Thursday night.
“Aren’t they absolutely adorable,” she cooed.
“They sure would turn a lot of heads,” Tom replied, “Why don’t you try em on.”
“I already have. The fit is perfect. They wouldn’t even have to be broken in.”
“So, buy them.”
“No, no, they’re too expensive.”
“Come on,” he nudged her. “You need a new pair anyway. Besides, ya said they were perfect. Go ahead, go for it.”
“Tom, I just can’t afford it,” she retorted, her eyes riveted to the boots. She was struggling desperately with herself to forget logic. She had the urge to splurge for once.
Sara turned and walked away, her logic winning again. Tom grabbed her arm, and quickly pulled her into the store.
“Come on, I wanna see you in them.”
“Hi, Mr. Brannigan,” Sara approached the counter.
“Well, hello there Sara,” the soft-spoken owner replied. He towered above them both.
“How’s your Dad? Haven't seen em round lately.”
“He’s fine. Moms got the flu, but she’s getting better.”
“You tell her to get plenty of rest before she goes back to work. You know how that flu is round here, if she doesn't it’ll never leave till spring.”
Tom loved the easy relaxed atmosphere. No pressure, no running around, no hustle, no bustle, it was a simple way of life.
“What can I do for you today?”
Sara stood gently running her fingers through her hair. She was curling the ends between her thumb and forefinger, staring hopefully at the leather boots in the window.
“Oh… It’s the boots again,” he knowingly remembered the last time she had come in, how much she had wanted them.
“Can I try them just once more?”
He smiled widely and walked to the window, lifting them off the display. They were his last pair in that style. They happened to be her size. She slid into them like they were made for her body.
“Whatta ya think Tom?” She pirouetted across the floor in front of him. Her blue denim skirt flared out as she twirled and danced, her auburn hair flowing out in an arc away from her body.
“You’re the Sweetheart of the Rodeo, in them,” Tom said lovingly.
Mr. Brannigan stood watching the young loving couple. He thought of his wife and he, many years before. He scratched his chin.
Ell ya what I’m gonna do, darling,” his eyes twinkled. “I’ll give ‘em to ya for cost, since they’re the last pair left. You folks helped me through some very lean years. I think it’s about time I returned the favor.”
“Sara’s parents had run the General Store in Old Dillion for close to thirty years. She remembered Mr. Brannigan coming in ever since she was a little girl. Her father had given him credit when he had needed it most. There were some difficult years in the early Sixties. The Denver water Board had begun buying up Dillion Property from the owner’s who were unable to raise tax money during the Depression years. By the late Forties they owned most of Old Dillion. In the late Fifty’s, they all but crippled the community by announcing plans for damming the lush delta formed by the trinity of rivers, the mighty,Blue, Ten Mile, and Snake Rivers, referred to as Nah-Oon-Kara, The Valley of the Blue, by the Uncompahgre Ute Native Tribes. They would build Roberts Tunnel, 23 miles long, starting in 1951 under the Continental Divide Mountains, to the North Fork and South Platte River, to supply the blossoming Denver Metropolis with much needed water. They had given the homeowners and businessmen until 1961 to vacate. If it hadn’t been for the closeness of the Community, they might never have survived. They not only survived, but with the new Reservoir and Eisenhower Tunnel through the Divide, they began prospering. The townspeople still helped each other.
“Really,” Sara couldn’t hide her delight. Tom stood grinning from ear to ear. Mr. Brannigan grabbed her old boots, and put them in the box. He went behind the counter and wrote out the sales slip.
“If you can’t afford them now, give me what you can, and come back and pay the balance when you’ve got it.”
Sara kept looking down at her feet as they walked out the door.
“You take care now Sara Lyn.”
“Thanks again Mr. Brannigan,”Sara waved as they went out into the street.
She slid out of her blue knapsack, and gave Tom a big hug.
“Wha- What’s that for?”
“Well, you were the one who made me go in there in the first place. If not for you, I’d still be in those beat up old things. Besides,” she said, pulling on her pack and flipping her hair out from under it. “A girl doesn’t need a reason to hug her man.”
She turned and started down the street, Sara loved him more and more each day. Every little thing they did together was special. She looked down at her feet and started crying.
“Now what are you crying for?”
“Honestly Tom, you may know everything there is to know about mountains, but when it comes to women. You’re such a big jerk! She started walking away. Tom stood there raising his hands.
“What did I do?”
Every moment they shared was better than the last. Her only problem was in not being able to say it. She couldn’t hold it much longer. Win or lose, she had to face the consequences. She hated not knowing the future, and was afraid of living for today.
It’s a fair offer Joe”
Joe was standing motionless with his back to his lawyer, staring out the window. It was a fair offer but that wasn’t the point.
“How the hell can you sit there and tell me that. God Dammit! You’re supposed to be on my side.”
Joe walked around to the front of the desk, and sat down in one of the three leather chairs. They were all facing John Staller, Joe’s attorney of thirty years.
“Give me a break, huh. I’m on your side. I’m a realist. We’ve held on for a long time because you have friends in high places. You’ve got to understand, Joe, they’re gone, and now the Senator is the Valley. He owns or controls everything.”
“The Senator is not the issue here. I shouldn’t have to sell him anything.”
“Jesus Joe, will you wake up. The Senator is the issue. He takes whatever he want s because he owns the whole frigging valley, it's all gone cept you, Joe. They’ve convinced everyone you’re an eccentric old crazy fool who wants to live out his last days at the “Top of the World.”
Joe let out a chuckle.
“Sometimes I feel like I am John. I feel like I’m beating my head against an unbreakable concrete ceiling.”
“Listen! I understand what this means to you. You worked your entire life to own Arapahoe Basin. It’s gone, like most of the great men of the Tenth Mountain Armor Division, you can’t fight them any longer. When that team of Corporate Whore Lawyers come back to this office, they will be expecting only one answer Joe.”
eeee
Joe stood up, tucked his khaki shirt into his denims and went to the window. He stood looking toward the summit of the big basin. Even from this distance it rose piercing the skies. He shook his head.
“Send them back in," he whispered, barely audible.
The Betrayal
“Yes Sir. I’ve already taken care of that.”
General Matthew Dowe was sitting at attention behind his polished oak desk. There aren’t many men a General in the United States Army has to answer to, but he was talking to one now.
“I sent you a memo the last time he called. There was no reason to bother you with it, then. He was hoping he could make this conversation as short as possible.
“This time he wants action. Well what should I do? Yes, I already have someone on the inside.
He covered the receiver and took a long deep breath. Thank God this is over the phone, he thought to himself. He wasn’t up to a confrontation with this man.
“Yes Sir. I realize that. I won’t do anything then. Sorry to bother you.”
The connection broke before he could get those last words out. He hung up the phone and clasped his hands on the desktop in front of him. Betraying a friend was not his style. He hated it, but he had no choice. Besides there were no friends in business or war, these days those concepts were interchangeable. You can’t have one without the other. The only difference is the battles are fought with pen and paper, not guns and soldiers.
The General opened the bottom drawer, and took out a bottle of twelve-year old scotch. He poured himself a stiff glass half full. He sat back and took a big long drink, rolling the golden liquid around his tongue.
“There’s no room in this world anymore for friends,” he said to no one. He finished the drink in one gulp, and refilled the glass.
“Good Luck Joe!” he toasted his former friend.
The barren one room apartment at the top of the stairs was stark and cold. The stained sheets on the single bed were crumpled and unmade as usual. A table with chairs sat against the opposite wall. On the top of the table a large glass ashtray was overflowing with cigarette butts and empty gum wrappers. A tin of Skoal sat alongside three empty beer cans. They were stacked in a pyramid. In the third drawer of the dresser, by the only window was a 38 midnight special, a German luger, and a 44 magnum, all loaded. The front wall by the door was covered with posters and newspaper clippings pertaining to the Vietnam War. A few foldouts of pin up girls, gave a sharp contrast of images in the room. It radiated a disturbing feeling for the eclectic nature of the designer. In the fourth drawer buried beneath a pile of dingy grey underwear were the timer, electrical cord and plastic explosives.
Lance Berry was sitting cross-legged on a pillow against \the empty wall across from the door. Although his eyes were closed, he was wide-awake. He had been sitting communing with whatever thoughts flashed through his mind for over two hours. A peaceful look accentuated the rugged features that you would hardly notice. Deep dark eyes, and a once broken nose sat above a thin straight mouth that never smiled, his body, a well oiled machine, hard and strong. It was tense and ready for whatever might be demanded of it. He added more and more lines to the page as an incredibly scaled drawing of Arapahoe Basin began to appear. Lance knew every square foot of the area and transferred that image in his mind to the paper in front of him. In detailed precision he captured every structure from the lift towers to the lodge. He drew caricatures representing people at different positions on the map. In a corner he wrote: A-Basin, 4-1-78 3:45 PM. Sitting back he stared at his work and was scanning it for mistakes, tapping his pencil obsessively on his leg. Assured of his perfection, he grabbed the warm can of beer from the table and finished it in one gulp. Neatly, he stacked it up against the other four, grabbing his Skoal he pinched out a portion and tucked it into his cheek. Turning his attention to his drawing, he examined it carefully and after a few moments he took his pencil and made a large X through the number three lift station.
“Stick to your Politics Senator and leave the mountains to the Mountain Men. You think just because all the other people in the Valley laid down at your feet, I’m going to. You’ve got a rude awakening. I’ll blow the whole mountain before I see you get it.”
Denver was less than an hour's drive and she was already on her third cigarette. This meeting was everything to her. It would show the real powers in Summit County just what she was made of. She wasn’t proud of the way she had arrived at this prestigious position. Everyone does it, she thought. Why shouldn’t she? She hoped Daddy never finds out. He wouldn’t like her sleeping with one of his business associates. If he ever learned the truth, he could easily destroy all the plans she had made. Her mother had cheated on him several years before. It had never been the same. If he had only known how many times she had slept around, he wouldn’t have taken her back. She would be lucky if he had let her live. You don’t mess with Daddy.
She turned down Speer Boulevard toward the twelve story glass and steel Corporate Offices of the Senator, approaching the building where the takeover was being designed. A young valet took her car at the entrance, and she walked into the elevator past the reception desk as the young woman behind it smiled and said, ”He’s expecting you.”
The door slid open as she approached clutching her briefcase tightly and stepped in. The elevator was empty. Jilly pressed the Loft Button, where number twelve should be. She rode up planning her strategy. Her black dress was smart and well groomed but not sexy. Sex was the last thing she wanted them to notice. It was what had gotten her through the door, her abilities would have to do the rest. She would be pleasant but not seductively so. The older Board members would see right through her, her most attractive attribute would have to be confidence. She had the drive and the heart to be the best, but she also had all the fine trimmings. The right combination of each would take her to the Top. The elevator came to the top and the doors slid open. Jilly stepped out and saw people running in every direction. They were checking their watches and carrying stacks of papers. It was frantic with people trying to keep the offices moving along smoothly. Loving to see people working hard, it gave her a deep sense of security. This is the way I’m going to run the Basin, she thought. No one will slack off on my team.
Jilly walked down the long grey corridor passed the many different branches of the corporate giant. Each small cubicle was alive, crawling with activity. Every cubicle performs its own function, each worker a drone performing their task. She noticed there were very few decorations, anywhere. She felt a stark coldness in the cubes where the single purpose was only------work. Walking into the main office at the end of the hallway, the receptionist looked up. She eyed her coldly but it was pleasant. Jilly sat and waited for her moment of truth. She watched her chewing and snapping her gum, answering her phone and taking memos.
“What a sleaze,” she thought,” I wonder how she got this job?”
“They’ll see you now, the last door on the right.”
Jilly stood without saying a word. She stopped briefly at the wooden door. Meeting room #1 was etched into the polished brass plate. She adjusted her scarf, and buttoned the next higher button on her blouse. Smoothing the wrinkles in her skirt she took a deep breath and closed the door behind her.
“Gentlemen,” she smiled, looking each one of them directly in the eye. Walking to the head of the long table, she laid her briefcase in front of her. Clicking open the two latches, she removed her documents. She raised her head to look at them, although this time she did not smile.
Sara sat nervously tapping her nails on the end table. She was confused. Tom had called and told her he’d be a little late tonight. It had given her a chance to work out a few last minute questions she had about her relationship.
“I could easily see spending the rest of my life with him,” she said to herself. “He’s everything I’ve always wanted in a man. If he could just learn to settle down, how can I love someone who might be here one minute and climbing and skiing the French Alps the next?”
Reaching up, she pulled a few strands of her hair, noticing some split ends that would have to be trimmed. Crossing her legs, she shifted her weight on the couch and glanced at the clock. He’s not the kind that likes demands made on him. She knew that but she just had to voice them. She wasn’t getting any younger and wanted desperately to know where her life was going to go.
A family had always been her only dream. Two, maybe three children, and a nine to five husband, picnics on weekends, It really wasn’t too much to ask. Maybe Tom wants that also, maybe he just was never in love enough before to commit himself. They had many intimate late night talks about their feelings for each other, and had discussed their past failures. They understood each other’s desires and needs. Their basic personalities were perfect. Not once had a conflict arisen that wasn’t resolved equitably between them. Their love making was more than she had ever hoped for. He was a lover that was gentle, a man, but still her little boy. She could be herself holding nothing back, not hiding even the smallest fantasy from him. The night she cried in his arms, she knew she loved him. Sara needed all of him.
“Sara,” she heard him call as he tapped lightly on her door. She went to the door and opened it.
“Hi baby,” he smiled, “Sorry I’m late.”
“Hi, “ she walked to Tom and gave him a hug.
We had a big meeting at the Basin. Joe sold the mountain and he finally broke the news to everyone.,” he sighed looking deeply in her eyes.
“No!,” Sara stepped back., the smile disappearing from her face.
“Can you believe it? Everything he has worked so hard for is gone. Shuffled across someone’s desk like it was no more than the paper it was printed on.”
Sara could feel Tom’s bitter disappointment, and she tightly held him in her arms.
“I feel just like I did when my parents got divorced. The finality of family separation, the same pain and utter disappointment.”
“Everyone was family up there,” she knew all of them and how very close they were.
“The thing that’s tough on me is how casual Joe is about it. He’s just letting it go. Everyone feels betrayed.”
“Well, he’s naturally the one you are going to blame. I think that when the news settles in, you’ll realize he’s the same man as before. Think of how much he loves the mountain. He gave you the gift of it. I feel it in your heart.”
“Yeah, I guess you're right. It’s just awfully hard,” he leaned over and gave her a small affectionate kiss. “Thanks babe.”
“For what?”
“Just for being there.”
They were deeply in love. When they were together, there was no one else around, no Basin, no problems. No problems except for the one that Sara knew she had to raise tonight. They had reservations at their favorite restaurant tonight, the “Old Dillon Inn.” Tacos, Enchiladas, Tortillas and Dos Equis beer were the house specialties. Tom was not a big eater, but when he did, it was in his style. He loved to cook when he had the time. Sara was overjoyed when he surprised her with a five- course dinner. It had been complete with candles and wine for their first date.
The conversation was light as they made their way across the small town. Tom was driving Sara’s vintage 69 Volkswagen Beetle. He was thinking about Joe’s empty future and felt the same for himself. Sara was seeing a future full of Tom and all her dreams. She was hoping it was true. They pulled into the parking lot to find it was full.
“Look at this place,” Tyler inched the bug in. “I wouldn’t mind owning a place like this myself.”
“We could make a fortune,” Sara attempted to spur the conversation on.
“We’d need a lot of capital up front,” Tom reached for her hand. They walked toward the front door.
“I’ve got some money saved,” she offered, “maybe we could find some investors. What about Joe? He’ll have a lot after the Basin is gone.”
Tom fell silent. Sara knew she had said the wrong thing. She immediately changed the subject.
‘You could run the kitchen. I’ll handle the bar. Maybe I will find a place for Jilly.”
“They laughed as Tom opened the door for her. The restaurant was full, he gave their names to the hostess and they made their way to the bar.
“At least twenty minutes,” Tom said as he handed Sara a Molson Gold.
“That’s perfect, the anticipation will raise our pleasure even more.” She gave him a wink knowing he had caught her analogy.
“Tom would you marry me?” she suddenly said, half hoping he would take her seriously.
He was silent for a moment.
“You’re supposed to get down on your knees when you ask that question.”
She was beginning to enjoy the game so she went on.
“Please, I love you. We could buy a house and make lots of babies,” she smiled hopefully.
“And live happily ever after,” he added, not sure that she was kidding anymore.
“ You’re serious aren’t you?”
When she didn’t reply and looked away he knew she was.
“Sara,” he said, shaking his head, “Look at me.”
She looked into his eyes.
“I have nothing to give you. All I own are my mountain memories and the clothes in my backpack, that’s no way to start a life.”
Sara looked down at the floor feeling lost like she was the only one in the room.
“Don’t lose this one Sara Lyn,” a voice in her head said. “I really love you Tom, anybody else would be second best. I’m not asking for the world Tom, just you.”
He looked over at the bottles lined up behind the bar searching for an answer. This was all so sudden but he knew it was right. Never having felt this way about anyone, but marriage, children, a house in the country, those things were not in his plan.
“I’m just not ready Sara,” he said finally, “you don’t know how hard this is.”
“I do know how hard this is. Now you look at me, Tom Dillon!“ she snapped with real determination in her voice. “I know you Tom. I know the kind of man you are. No past, no future, just the here and now. That’s fine if it’s what you want out of life. I’m involved and I love you deeply, but I cannot live your life. I’m offering a life with you because I know it’s right. You do also. I can’t live my life not knowing what will be.”
He felt helpless and reached to take her hand. She pulled away looking around at the other couples having their conversations, wondering if any of them felt as miserable as she did.
“I’m sorry baby,” he looked at her. He was looking for a sign that she might be softening. She was distant and he felt like he didn’t even know her.
“Dillon, table for two, Dillon,” the voice over the intercom cracked.
“I’m not very hungry Tom. I have to go.”
She finished her beer and slid it across the bar.
“I need my keys,” she held out her hand.
He gave them to her and she turned without a word. He watched her as she made her way through the crowd and out the door. He gestured to the bartender for another beer. Tom felt old for the very first time in his life.
Tom had spent the last three weeks on the mountain with Toby. He was helping him set up a training program. Giving him confidence and motivation to train harder, ever harder as the trials grew nearer. Toby’s heart was in the right place, he was lacking the timing and style. Running the courses had to be routine, repetition would lead to speed. Tom realized this and tried to motivate him to face his toughest challenges. The Olympics were not just another NASTAR Race. They were a series of steps, any of which, if you stumble, you’ve lost. No second chances, no excuses. After running the courses, they would run trails on the Basin, a daunting challenge. Finishing up on the East Wall of Lenawee Mountain where there were no trails, only wide open endless powder turns.
The highest lift operated mountain in North America, a gold medal at the Olympics,” he’d yell over and over. He was trying to fill his heart and soul with the spirit of the mountain itself. He spoke of Joe and the years of hard work and toil he had put in to own the mountain, trying to make him see the results of dreams, grandiose dreams, dreams that can be if you have the desire to reach and grab for the rings.
“They’re not going to just give you that medal, you have to earn it! Simply wanting it is not good enough. You have to desire it with every fiber of your being. It’s all you can focus on, nothing else can matter or exist. WHITE DREAMS! WHITE DREAMS! WHITE GOLD!”
Tom was relentless with Toby, but he knew Toby needed him. Now more than ever, the sheer spectacle of the rock spires looming high above the rest of the world, left them both in awe. Toby needed the push, his skiing was getting really good. Tom knew he had a definite place and shot at the Olympics. All the effort and hard work was for him. Tom would talk of himself and his own reservations about life.
“At least you know what you want,” he says. “You have a single vision, you can see it. TO BE THE BEST OF THE BEST! THE CRÈME DE LA CRÈME! No one can ever take that away from you. Don’t take it away from yourself! Hold on to your dreams, Tobe. It’s always just your dreams, hold on to them as if they were your child, your only child”
The days were hard and long, the nights short and sleepless. Every waking hour he spent either skiing or discussing the various conditions. They spent days on the courses of Keystone, Copper and Breckenridge, covering all aspects of the different pitched slopes. The angle and texture of the snow the sun made on the downside of the moguls was extremely important. Where the shadows fell on the courses determined where the hidden ice would lay. A single slip would cost precious seconds. Vertical drop, base elevation, they all came into play. They found some hard pack groomed ice at Keystone down the road. Luckily the weather stayed dry and cold, Toby could spend more time running drilling on the hard pack cover.
Tom enjoyed these days spent with Toby. They gave him a chance to get away from all the questions that had been stirring through his mind. The mountains themselves were the only stability left in Tom’s shifting world. No longer did Tom see things as “Black and White.” There were feelings in his heart, thoughts in his mind he had never had before. He was beginning to let other people in his heart and life. They were helping to shape his destiny. They were letting him into their worlds. He was finally beginning to grow up.
The sharp white peaks thrusting up boldly around him were like old friends to him. He had spent countless days and years with nothing on his mind but their beauty and honesty. They were a timeless vision, always changing, yet always remaining the same. The mountains have always been and always will be. Tom felt lucky to be able to share a small part of their history.
Toby was becoming increasingly irritable. He rarely said a word as Tom tried to push him harder to make every second count. Timing every run as if it was life or death. Tom yelled at each mistake, telling him if he wanted to claim gold, he would have to work harder. Toby reacted but was beginning to falter. He was angry and fed up with skiing, stopwatches and Tom.
“Forget it!” Toby yelled, “I’m through for the day. I can’t take you riding me anymore.”
“I simply said…”
“I know what you said. You said it yesterday and you said it the day before. I’m sick of it Tom. I’m sick of it all.”
“You can’t expect to…”
“I don’t expect anything. I don’t even know why I’m doing this anymore. You do nothing but criticize my every move. You’re a royal pain in the ass.”
“I’m only doing it for you.”
“You’re doing this because you love it. You love being in control. You’ve never had anything, and think you can take my dreams and make them your own.”
“Bull crap! You’re pissed off because you can’t take the pressure. You’re a lazy whining, God damned baby.”
“Piss Off Tom!”
Toby whirled around and took off down the mountain, leaving Tom wondering what had just happened.
“I can’t believe this, every time I turn around, I get kicked in the ass. Well no more.”
He turned and started tucking down the headwall toward the Pali, his speed increasing as he sped along the hanging cornice that formed above the bowl. Not knowing what he was going to do next, first David, Then Sara and now Toby. Why couldn’t they take him for what he was, without asking for everything? He never took any more than he could give. Everyone had to have it their own way. All or nothing at all, wasn’t that the motto. No one is ever satisfied with what they have. He was disillusioned with it all.
“I’ve got to get out of here,’ he said, feeling there was nothing left to fight for. At the last second he turned, and flew off the top of the cornice catching incredible air. Tom landed with his tips slightly crossed at breakneck speed. It caused him to go head over skis and begin tumbling down the steep slope. Every time he came up he feared he would break his neck on the next roll as he drove his head deep into the deep powder. On one of the upright rolls, Tom threw his weight to his left and landed on his shoulder. It drove it into the snow and arrested his fall. His skis had not come off, and he stood shakily, his knees weak, his breath coming in spurts and gasps. He was utterly exhausted and weak, Tom thought of Joe’s struggle to keep the Basin and his friends and the confusion in his life. In utter exasperation, he cried out, ”Is there no justice in this world?” Almost immediately he heard a voice that said, “Be a Teacher!” Confused, he looked around to see where the voice had come from. There was nothing but silence in the vast natural mountainous bowl. He dusted himself off and turned his skis downhill and pushed hard with his poles. Determined to see what was his destiny, now that he had cheated death. A half a century would pass before Tom would fully comprehend what the edict in the wilderness truly meant.
Everyone seems to care so much about what I do, that I’m letting you know what my plans are. I caught the last Greyhound out of Frisco into Vail. I’m going to finish the season with some friends there. I appreciate all that you’ve done for me, Joe. All the Mother Hens that converge on me in Summit County are driving me crazy. I have my own life, and I can’t take everyone telling me how to live it. I wish you all the Luck with whatever you may find in the future. You have a really bad deal going, Joe, I tried all I know how to do. I hope our paths will someday cross again. Toby 'Point' em downhill and stand on 'em.’ Sara, you deserve better, I’ll write once I get myself sorted out. This is not the way I wanted any of it to turn out.
Joe set Tom’s letter down on his desk. Sipping at his mug of coffee, he missed Tom already. He felt he had failed somehow, if he only could have kept his mountain. He might have been able to teach the boy how to look at life differently, how to deal with his problems instead of running away, exactly as he had done when he was young. When you don’t like the way things are going, you pick up and head into the next mountain. Once you have done it and are no longer afraid, you see how easy it really is. You leave them all behind. It’s what had drawn him to Arapahoe Basin in the first place, that and the Ski Patrol. He was the ultimate escapist. His wife of ten years had wanted a divorce because they were unable to have children, his parents were getting a divorce because they were never in love. The last thing he remembered was his sister saying to him,” They only stayed together for us. They were never in love. They got married because they were having you. He knew it to be true, he hated her for telling him. It seems she always made things worse than they actually were, kicking him when he was down. He had run away and never looked back. Now, he was paying the price, n one to turn to, no one to be there. You had better damn well be ready to pay the price when it comes.
“Joe?” Toby’s blonde head appeared around the corner of the door. “Have you seen Tom?”
“He’s gone, he left. The kid can’t take the heat.” Joe held up the letter for Toby to read.
“Damn,” Toby read through the note. He let his arm fall limply to his side.
“I think it’s all my fault,” Toby confessed.
“It’s nobody’s fault. He’s a runner. He always runs, never stays and deals with anything.”
Joe leaned back in his chair, folded his arms across his chest, and stared out the window. He rocked gently in his chair. Toby stood in silence and looked out into the distance with Joe. He didn’t want to lose Tom. He was his best friend. There are only a few people who become best friends. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, fighting back the tears. Tom had to come back. He just had too. He had too.
The Colorado ranch houses flashed past Tom’s eyes in a colored blur as he gazed out the window. The golden sun burned brightly and dipped into the white fields. Across the expanse of the snowbound wooden wind -breaks the evening sky was illuminated by a full silver grey moon, the darkness stealing, silently, stubbornly over the northwestern peaks. He closed his eyes, his head resting wearily against the window in an effort to sleep. It was no use, his mind was spinning and reeling in an endless succession of feelings. He seemed to be in the middle of everyone’s problems, and full of his own insecurities.
“Everyone wants a piece of something from me,” he lamented to himself. He tapped his boney fingers on the arm-rest. “I got nothing more to give.”
He stared through his reflection in the tinted glass. It was staring back through him. He was watching his own thoughts as they formed in his mind and boiled to the surface.
“If only I could see the whole picture, I might find the answer.”
With that thought, his Uncle’s words flooded to his thoughts. “Everyone has their own answers Tom, and you’ve got to search to find your own happiness.”
Tom knew that until he found his, he would always be a lonely drifter. A rolling tumbleweed, always bouncing, always shifting, never stable. He took off his hat and laid it on the seat next to him. Running his fingers through his matted hair, he thought of Sara. He found that he was continually thinking of Sara. Tom had been wrong to say those awful things to her, things he could never take back, she was the warmest loving person he had ever known. It seemed as if his own insecurities had driven him to go out of his way to alienate her. He feared he had lost her for good, and was dying inside without her. She had given him more than he ever knew that he wanted, never feeling that close to a woman before. In the short time they were together, they had become intimate lovers, and close friends. How easy it would be to give his life to her, what little he had to give…. he had just lost everything without her.
The mountains were his life. How could he throw away the only true meaning he had ever found, the only serenity his heart had ever known? All his life he had risen above the everyday tedious routine. He had observed all the mediocrity all around him. Somewhere out beyond the, “work until you have enough to retire in the world.” His grandparents had done that, and died before they had a chance to enjoy it. There was more than just jobs, more than just pensions, more than golf at the country club on the weekend. True freedom lies not in getting all you can, but in giving all you can away.
He drifted off into that half conscious world, the world between sleep and waking. Images floated in and out of his mind. Sara, Toby, Davis, Joe, The Senator, rose up into his thoughts, they haunted him as his own past did. He felt like he had deserted his own family, the real family that had deserted him so long ago. He never knew the true story because he was afraid to ask, afraid that it had been his fault.
“Come on son, hey son, let’s go, it’s the end of the line,” the driver shook Tom. He took a breath and grabbed his hat and knapsack. He groggily made his way down the aisle toward the front of the bus, thinking about his friends. Good friends that he never knew meant so much to him…… until now.
Tom stepped off the Greyhound out of Steamboat and into Vail. He buttoned his black preacher coat against the stark evening cold. The thirteen thousand foot Gore Range and the spires of the Grand Traverse glowed fiery orange in the last light of the alpenglow. The turquoise tinged sky faded into darkness. Tugging at his Stetson and slipping into his backpack, he walked across the Vail Transportation Center and down the concrete stairs. The snow crisp, cold, crunched beneath his worn hiking boots. A thick blanket of it nestled on the roof of the Covered Bridge. It was the oldest structure in Vail Village. The crystals sparkled against the wooden shakes, illuminated by the lights of the Alpine Village. The noise of the tourists talking was replaced by the dull thud of his boots on the wooden planks. The rushing and bubbling of Gore Creek filled the evening air. Halfway across the bridge, Tom stopped and turned toward the rushing water. The flowing water tugged strongly at his heart. Silently, he stood and listened. He thought of his friend. He had always expected his greatest defeat would have come from the mountains. It had surprised him, coming this way. Sara had taken him to heights he had thought were impossible. He was just beginning to realize how great his loss really was.
He was finely tired. He was tired of the poverty, the loneliness, tired of the towns, ski towns, fed up with the hustlers. He was tired of ski town dreamers and ski town schemers. Tired of the Senator, his Corporation, and the Senator’s obsession to own all of Summit County, right up to the Continental Divide.
The sound of footfalls across the planks of the Covered Bridge captured his attention. A young couple arm and arm walked toward him. Her hair hung loosely from beneath her white ski hat. It was flaming red, reminding him of Sara. Why? Why did he put on an act to impress her? Fool her by being something other than who he was. Why had he been compelled to drive this warm wonderful woman from his life?
He walked down the narrow noisy Bridge Street and toward the middle of the Village. In the lit window of a local shop, he stopped to look at a pair of expensive hand-tooled riding boots that sat among the cut woolen sweaters. Sara’s voice drifted through the evening air.
“You may know everything there is to know about mountains, Thomas Dillon. When it comes to women, you’re such a big jerk! Every time the least little thing happens in your life, you run away to another mountain. When are you going to realize that you are just running away from yourself? You’ve got to quit drinking, you’ve got to stand for something in life, and you can’t just drift!”
Tom flipped up his collar to the cold and dampness and continued on toward Gold Peak and his friend’s townhome. Tom was good at walking away, a walk away Joe. He stood quietly in front of the door. It was beginning to snow and it was late. He had nowhere else to go and no one else to see. He reached up and grasped the large brass ring around the lion’s head that rested against the plate, bringing it down hard three times, he listened. The sound of footsteps came to him from behind the door. It opened slightly.
“Who is it?” a soft feminine voice asked.
“Dawna, it’s me, Tom.”
“Tom, Tom, come in!”
The door opened widely and a slim graceful woman appeared. She had long blonde hair that spiraled into ringlets to her shoulders. She grasped him firmly by the hand and led him through the doorway.
“How have you been? Where have you been? What exactly have you been up to? I want to know everything, let me wake John.” She disappeared around the corner.
Tom collapsed into a chair. A large black box sat on an end table between a sofa and a chair. A purple neon light rose out of it, it soothed him. A crystal heart, along with a pyramid spire sat beside the light. It refracted through the crystal creating an eerie array of colors dancing on the wall. Across the room above a tan stone fireplace sat a hand hewn oak mantle. On the left of the mantle, a red and yellow clay pot held a large leafy elephant plant. A spider plant dangled over the edge to the right. A large wooden framed picture in the center caught Tom’s attention. He stood slowly, stretched, and walked to the picture. A blue suited skier was crouching extremely low, before a steep vertical among some jagged rocks. He examined it closely.
“First Nordic Ski Descent, Grand Teton, Rick Wyatt. June 10, 1982.”
Tom smiled to himself, leave it to John. John was the diehard of the crowd. He and Dawna were the last of the holdouts among their friends. John had been on the circuit longer than Tom. He had been to Big Sky and Bridger Bowl in Montana. John had even wintered in Alta, Utah. He had taken Tom to Honeycomb Canyon at Solitude and the Merry Chutes on Mount Millicent at Brighton in Big Cottonwood Canyon last year.
“Tom, how the hell are you? You look great. You must be skiing a lot.”
“Every day John, every day. I just got in from Steamboat, a friend procured some day passes to ski the trees.”
Tom faced his friend. John had a thick red beard, with a long light red and blond mustache. His hairline had receded since Tom had seen him last, leaving a tanned forehead and tell tale raccoon tanned eyes. John stood several inches taller than Tom.
“I’m glad to hear you're skiing everyday.”
“Yeah I wrangled a pass in exchange for some work in the Lodge at A-Basin, best ski season yet. I’m well over a hundred days this year.”
“How have you really been?” Dawna asked.
Tom shifted uncomfortably. “Things aren’t going well right now,” he stammered.
“What’s up?”
“I screwed up with Sara, you know me Dawna, every time things are going well. I seem to find a way to mess up badly.”
“Are you drinking Tom?” Dawna looked concerned.
“I acted foolishly, I-I wrote some terrible things to her.”
“How bad?”
“I can’t even remember John, I guess pretty bad,” Tom looked at the floor.
“Don’t worry a bit Tom, we'll fix you up with a ski bunny from Vail,” John said.
“That’s just the thing John; We were really getting close. I’ve never felt this way before.”
“’Have you tried telling her that Tom? Maybe she feels the same way about you? Dawna asked.
“I remember John when we were first going out. He would go out of his way to do goofy things. I finally told him to grow up!”
“It wasn’t like that, Dawna. I lost it. I wrote some dark things. There is nothing I can do to change things. I can’t undo what I’ve done.”
“Maybe you can change the way you do things, Tom,” John said.
“What do you mean, John?”
“Tell you what Tom, I can get a four days pass. You can ski Vail and Beaver Creek. I’ll take you in the back bowls. It will get your energy flowing in the right direction. There’s nothing wrong with you that a few days skiing the deep won’t cure. Dawna enjoys telemark skiing, she’ll take you to Chicago Ridge at Ski Cooper, free your heel, free your mind,” he laughed loudly.
“Ok, John, I’ll do it,” Tom said.
“One more thing Tom, They have A.A. Meetings at the Vail Chapel. Dawna and I will go there with you. We think you need to talk to someone.”
“I don’t know John.”
“No hassle, the meetings are at noon. We’ll ski down at lunch and just pop in. No big deal. Tom it seems to me that every time you get your life in order, I mean when things are really going good, you get in big trouble and alcohol is usually involved.”
“I know I would do anything not to have these problems.”
“Sounds like a first step to me, it’s like committing to the mountain, Tom, and the first turn in a steep, gnarly chute is always the hardest. You know the rest of the saying.”
“I know, I know, point 'em downhill and stand on 'em.”
They all laughed heartily.
It had been several weeks since Tom had left the Basin. Toby was on the mountain skiing the headwall. It was a black diamond trail with a steep pitch that left absolutely no room for any error. He was feeling a winning attitude in his heart for his sport. The thrill of the speed, the rush of the wind, the glimmer and sparkle of the ivory crystals in his eyes, warned him by the intensity of the sun twelve thousand feet in elevation. He felt at one with himself and the world around him. It was this inner piece that kept him coming back to the mountains year after year. Not knowing why, he simply felt good, it was great to let go and float through the endless ecstasy of powder.
Rushing down the steep grade of the cornice above the headwall, he knew Coach and Tom were right. There was something magical, primal about this mountain, it was a humbling mentor and lover. The serenity and silence disturbed only by the deafening roar of unstable powder in the backcountry. He hit the bottom of the transition, compressed and shot up the steep slope that would drop him over into the front-side. Skirting the Evergreens alongside the steep trails He could catch Grizzly Road to International and the Lodge.
Heading down International out of the corner of his eye, he caught the flash of light down in the parking lot. He was several hundred yards above it and could see people milling about. From the direction of the flash, he noticed a familiar black cowboy hat, bobbing up and down from the far left of the parking lot toward the Lodge. It was a silver dollar centerpiece.
Toby started down through the pines that dotted the slower slope. Gathering momentum he would shoot through the trees and come up on the lower end of the lot. The trail would lead Toby down the lower moguls and the number three lift station. Approaching the station, he looked up to see Lance, far off to the right, standing waving his arms in the air. He was motioning Toby to go back. Toby stopped abruptly, next to the number three station.
“Go Back! Go Back!” was the last thing Toby heard before the explosion and the enveloping blackness.
Lance was the first to reach him, followed by Tom and a few seconds later, Joe.
“Don’t be dead! Don’t be dead! Please! Please! Please! Don’t be Dead,” he sat cradling Toby’s blood stained head and torso. Toby’s legs were sticking out from his body at odd angles. A bone protruded from the calf of his right leg. His left arm was pinned grotesquely behind his upper torso. Lance rested his head against Toby’s, his body convulsed with sobs. Toby’s skis were scattered twenty feet away along with debris from the building that once was the number three lift station. Smoke was rising as pieces of burning wood melted the snow where it had fallen.
“Get Away!” Joe commanded, throwing Lance to the side. He had come running to join Tom at the sound of the explosion.
“He’s barely breathing. Call an ambulance! Joe straddled Toby and began performing CPR. “Toby, Hold On! Come On Son! Just Hold On! Joe looked at Toby, and then back at Lance.
“What the hell is going on here Lance?”
Tom dropped his pack and lunged at Lance grabbing him by his jacket.
“You did this? Didn’t Ya! Didn’t Ya Lance?” He screamed at him, hitting him, over and over. Lance staggered backwards and made no attempt to defend him-self.
Several onlookers grabbed Tom and pulled him away. Lance stood there just staring at Toby. Tom broke free from his restraint and confronted Lance again.
“You did this! You did this! How could you?”
“No!” Lance held his jaw.
“What?” Tom cried.
“Joe did this! He sold out to the Senator” Lance was backing up, pointing and shaking his finger, hysterically at Joe. “It’s all your fault you sold out to the multi-nationals, you sold out the country!” Lance was raving, and crying wildly as the ambulance pulled into the parking lot.
“Jesus! What happened here?” The attendant asked the crowd.
No one answered as the medics took over CPR and Toby’s vitals. The mountain silence was deafening as they worked to get him on the backboard and load him on the stretcher and start for the Unimog.
“Is he going to be alright? Will he live? Tom questioned.
Joe and Tom both watched as the medics worked on Toby frantically. Tom looked into Joe’s eyes as the door was closing and they could see the medic shake his head back and forth.
The crowd stood back to allow the Summit County Sheriff’s Patrol access to the scene.
“It’s Lance, Burt, over there, it was him” Joe pointed.
Lance stood looking at the ground as Burt walked over and pulled his arms behind him and began reading him his rights.
Tom stood motionless, and in deep shock. “This is insanity. What is the mountain and the Senator doing to all of us. They have us at each other’s throats. Violence is never the answer. It’s killing us. It doesn’t have to be this way. It doesn’t have to happen. If I hadn’t left, none of this would have happened. What have I done?”
Joe reached over and put his arm around Tom. Everything they both believed in was driving away in the ambulance. Life, their lives as they knew them, would never be the same, when the Basin, like Toby was gone. There would have many loves in their lives and many losses, none would ever rival the loss of their great love for this majestic Basin.
Toby is Alive
Tom winced in pain from the antiseptic smell of the Summit County Hospital. They had been waiting for an hour, an hour too long. He hated hospitals. They were absolutely necessary, but he stayed away from them as much as possible. Ever since he had been a young man, his first memories were of their lonely corridors. He despised that antiseptic smell, the terribly clean sterile smell. He had spent a week in the Albany Medical Center, being treated for Rheumatic Fever, and he never forgot those long poking and probing days and endless dreary, scary nights. All he wanted to do was go home, they wouldn’t let him so he wept. He was weeping now, but this time for his best friend, laying with tubes and casts protruding from his mangled body.
Toby was lying with his eyes closed in the far bed by the window. There were ten beds in the room. Three others were filled with the main disease of ski towns: BROKEN BONES. Tom and Joe walked quietly up to the bed. Toby opened his eyes and weakly smiled.
“Hi guys,” he whispered.
“Hey Toby,” Tom sat on the edge of the bed, and took his hand. “I know this is a dumb question, but how do you feel?”
Joe walked around and sat on the other side, watching the two men talk.
“I’m lucky they tell me, tho, I don’t feel that lucky right now.”
“We’re all just happy you’re alive,” Tom tightened his grip on Toby’s hand. He looked down at his helpless friend, wishing there was something he could do to ease the pain.
“What happened anyway?”
“Lance, he blew number three, to get back at me for selling out. They are taking him to Denver, for Psych evaluation, and then probably jail. I should have seen it all coming. I saw the signs, the short answers, the quick temper. He had that look in his eyes. The same distant look you get when you’re gazing across a ridge after a battle wondering where the future lies. I’m just sorry you were hurt, you get some sleep now son. We’ll be back tomorrow.”
“I’m gonna go for a walk, Joe. You go on.”
“Are you sure/”
“Yeah.”
“He’ll be O.K.”
“I know, I’ll see you back at the Basin.”
Tom started walking as Joe pulled out of the parking lot, His eyes were teary and blurred as he tried to focus on the pavement, he kicked maliciously at the chunks of snow lining the pavement. One hell of a way to wind up a season, he thought. He stuffed his hands into his denim pockets, as he made his way through the familiar town of Dillon. Something inside of him was dead, it had died with the news of the sale of his dream mountain, and he didn’t know if he would ever really feel alive again. He took no notice of, what he thought of as, a ghost town, around him.
He began to run. A slow jog at first, and then faster and faster until perspiration started to soaked his skin. His legs began to ache as he passed the Moose Jaw, the Corinthian Hills, Keystone Village and headed up, the pass, toward the Basin. When the grade began to rise, he felt like death was only ten steps away. He kept running, and running until the grade steepened sharply. He fell into a snowbank on the side of the road, gripping his stomach, as he laid back and closed his eyes. A few minutes had passed, and the worst was over. He opened his eyes and stared up at the cloud- covered sky. An angry front was steadily making its way up the valley and looked like it would strangle the mountain. It was blocking the sun from the highest peaks. His breathing slowed down and returned to normal, he took one last deep breath. The tears came, he let them gladly flow, to cleanse his system of the pain and disappointment he had held for so long.
The end of April was a deadline for Joe, there was still an abundance of snow in the Rocky Mountains, but it signaled a decline. If he could have just lasted to May, he would have been able to keep the Basin another year.
Joe’s luck had just run out, in the mail today, he found the final blow. The letter read: In regards to excessive claims, increased liability, and questionable practices, we no longer consider you an acceptable risk and are formally notifying you of the cancellation of this insurance policy
The United States Forest Service would not allow him to operate without insurance. He had one week to cease operations.
“They finally won,” he said to himself. If he couldn’t sell tickets, he couldn’t pay his mortgage. If he can't pay his mortgage, he loses it all. Either way, they win. Joe closed his eyes, hoping that when he opened them, this nightmare would be over. It was over, but it wasn’t a dream, his fears had come true. All hope was lost. His life dreams would be gone with h\the melting spring snows.
He rose from his desk, and walked out of the office, and stood at the base of the mountain. She was the only solace he had left in his life, at least for another week. He would spend the week, amidst her magnificent glory, like he did when he had first come to her. When times were simple, and the future looked cheerful and bright.
He walked along the front of the Lodge and toward the lift. It was a beautiful day outside. The sun was warm and radiating through the clear blue sky. The silence disturbed only by the hum of the engines of the lifts, carrying the happy skiers up through the carved trails.
“Hey Joe! What’s up?” Tom yelled. He had his skis over his shoulder, his boots squeaking on the snow as he made his way across the lot.
“How’s Toby doing today,” his face was upturned toward the Summit.
“A lot better. He told me, it wasn’t your fault. You shouldn’t feel bad.”
“How can I not feel bad? If I wasn’t so foolish to think I could beat the Senator, at his expansion game, none of this would have happened,”
“It’s not foolish to fight for something you believe. It’s cowardice to not. I never took you for a coward, Joe. Tom could feel a different air about Joe. He was speaking slower and softer than he had ever spoken before. Tom could sense, something was up. Joe was hiding something.
“What happened?”
“ Happened! They cancelled my insurance,” He raised his finger. “One week”
The two men stared directly at one another. They were looking for a sign, the least little ray of hope. Joe was the first to break eye contact. The mountain was all he had, all he had ever wanted. How could he just leave? He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
“Let’s ski,” he finally said.
“You go ahead, Joe. I’ve got a couple of things, I just remembered, I have to take care of.” Tom turned and started back to the Lodge.
“I’ll see you later,” he yelled over his shoulder.
Joe slowly picked up his skis and made his way to the lift. He placed the skis gently on the ground. Lifting one leg at a time, he scraped the packed snow from the bottom of his boots and stepped firmly into the bindings.
“Hi, Boss,” Sally, the lift operator said, as he skied up to the chair. It was as if he was the only one there. He didn’t hear her. Joe just gazed up the hill, his face void of all expression.
“I wonder what’s wrong with him,” she thought, “It looks like he lost his best friend.”
Joe Receives Bad News
Joe’s luck had just run out, in the mail today, he found the final blow. The letter read: In regards to excessive claims, increased liability, and questionable practices, we no longer consider you an acceptable risk and are formally notifying you of the cancellation of this insurance policy
The United States Forest Service would not allow him to operate without insurance. He had one week to cease operations.
“They finally won,” he said to himself. If he couldn’t sell tickets, he couldn’t pay his mortgage. If he can't pay his mortgage, he loses it all. Either way, they win. Joe closed his eyes, hoping that when he opened them, this nightmare would be over. It was over, but it wasn’t a dream, his fears had come true. All hope was lost. His life dreams would be gone with the melting spring snows.
He rose from his desk, and walked out of the office, and stood at the base of the mountain. She was the only solace he had left in his life, at least for another week. He would spend the week, amidst her magnificent glory, like he did when he had first come to her. When times were simple, and the future looked cheerful and bright.
He walked along the front of the Lodge and toward the lift. It was a beautiful day outside. The sun was warm and radiating through the clear blue sky. The silence disturbed only by the hum of the engines of the lifts, carrying the happy skiers up through the carved trails.
“Hey Joe! What’s up?” Tom yelled. He had his skis over his shoulder, his boots squeaking on the snow as he made his way across the lot.
“How’s Toby doing today,” his face was upturned toward the Summit.
“A lot better. He told me, it wasn’t your fault. You shouldn’t feel bad.”
“How can I not feel bad? If I wasn’t so foolish to think I could beat the Senator, at his expansion game, none of this would have happened,”
“It’s not foolish to fight for something you believe. It’s cowardice to not. I never took you for a coward, Joe. Tom could feel a different air about Joe. He was speaking slower and softer than he had ever spoken before. Tom could sense, something was up. Joe was hiding something.
“What happened?”
“ Happened! They cancelled my insurance,” He raised his finger. “One week”
The two men stared directly at one another. They were looking for a sign, the least little ray of hope. Joe was the first to break eye contact. The mountain was all he had, all he had ever wanted. How could he just leave? He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
“Let’s ski,” he finally said.
“You go ahead, Joe. I’ve got a couple of things, I just remembered, I have to take care of.” Tom turned and started back to the Lodge.
“I’ll see you later,” he yelled over his shoulder.
Joe slowly picked up his skis and made his way toward the lift. He placed the skis gently on the ground. Lifting one leg at a time, he scraped the packed snow from the bottom of his boots and stepped firmly into the bindings.
“Hi, Boss,” Sally, the lift operator said, as he skied up to the chair. It was as if he was the only one there. He didn’t hear her. Joe just gazed up the hill, his face void of all expression.
“I wonder what’s wrong with him,” she thought, “It looks like he lost his best friend.”
The weeks flew by as weeks often do. The way that time always seems to toward an unwelcome event. No matter how hard you try, to savor the remaining days. It’s a fact of human nature that cannot be reversed. If you want something on the other hand, it never seems to arrive.
Tom had been waiting everyday for the mail to arrive. Joe’s last chance was riding on the efficiency of the United States Postal Service.
“Neither rain nor sleet, nor snow can keep them from their appointed rounds. It was one scary thought,” he reflected.
It was twelve noon and there didn’t seem to be anyone at the mountain. Yesterday was the final day of the season for the Basin. A wooden sign with a red painted sign was stuck in the mud of the parking lot, a prelude to the Mud Season to come, read CLOSED.
Joe was on his way into town. The papers were to be signed at two P.M. that day to transfer ownership as quickly as possible, or risk going into default. Keystone’s Parent Company was quite agreeable to sign at a moment's notice. They had been poised to strike for a long time. Now that the Mountain Crown was about to be put on their heads, they were more than happy to accommodate Joe’s wishes.
Tom sat down on the steps and crossed his arms over his knees. He looked at his watch and it was twelve-fifteen.
“Come on Jake,” he said tapping his hiking boots impatiently.
Right on cue the mail truck came into view. Jake sped up the highway and pulled into the empty lot. He came to a halt in front of the stairs. Sliding out, he pulled a large bundle of letters from his sack.
“Nothing but bills today, I’m afraid.”
Tom slumped like the wind had been knocked from him. Jake knew that he had been waiting for an important letter from back East.
“Damn I thought he would come through.” Tom shuffled through the pile. He was hoping he had missed something. Jake climbed back into the truck and drove away. Tom tossed the envelopes carelessly on to the steps. Defeated he sat down dejectedly. He desperately wanted to save the day for Joe, to rush in triumphantly just as they were about to sign the papers and declare victory. It was the image he had focused in his mind. If you can see something happen and believe in it strongly, it will come true. It was the way Tom lived his life. He believed in everything he did.
A white station wagon pulled off the road and into the lot, it stopped by the sign. He took no notice of it and stood up to stretch his legs. The car started forward and stopped net to him. He walked down the stairs to see what the driver wanted.
“I’m looking for Tom Dillon,” the man stuck his head out the window.
“You found him.”
The man reached over the seat and grabbed a large manila envelope. He handed it to Tom.
“Sign here,” he said.
Tom signed the paper on the clipboard and took the letter.
“This is it! This is it!,” he danced up and down. “Thanks, Thanks,” he pumped the man’s hand.
“Anytime,” he smiled shaking his head as he drove away.
Tom’s hands trembled with excitement as he ripped open the folder. He had to be sure it was the right thing. There it was in black and white, the most beautiful document he had ever seen.
He ran to the road and stuck out his thumb.
“It looks like the Calvary is coming to the rescue, after all.”
XXXI
“They’re in Meeting Room Three, but you can’t go in,” the secretary looked up at the young man. He ignored the last part of the warning, and ran down the hall.
“Joe! Joe!, “Tom called hoping it wasn’t too late. There were no numbers on the doors, so he had to get their attention the hard way.
“Joe! Dillon here!”
“What’s going on here?” The door to his left swung open and Joe’s lawyer stepped into the hallway and shut the door behind him.
“We’re in the middle of an important meeting. You can’t barge in like this,” he looked at Tom. “Miss Toby! Miss Buxley! Would you show this man the door?” He grabbed Tom by the arm to lead him out. Tom pulled away from his grasp, pushed him aside, reached for the door handle and entered the room.
“Excuse me Gentleman. Can I see you in private, Mr. Jacobason. It’ll only be a moment.”
“Pardon me,” Joe rose up from his seat. “ My accountant’s here.”
They went out into the hall, and over to an empty room. Tom closed the door behind them and shuffled Joe into a chair. He slid the papers out of the envelope, and spread them across the table. Taking a pen out of his pocket, he slapped it down on top and stood back.
“Sign on the dotted line,” he said with a broad grin.
“What’s this?”
Tom sat down in a big leather chair at the head of the table. He leaned back, crossed his fingers in front of him, and smiled a large radiant smile. “It’s a season’s pass,”
“How on God’s green earth did you manage this/”Joe was occupied scrutinizing the policy.
“You can thank the Insurance King, David Randall.” Tom stood and walked around beside Joe. He bent over and pointed to the date on the policy.
“Effective yesterday!” he let out a hearty guffaw, unable to control his elation.
“Unbelievable!” Joe shook his head from side to side.
“It was really very easy,” Tom strutted around the room. “I gave D.R. a call the day you told me about the cancellation. He knew what was going on. How the Senator had the Insurance Company in his pocket. The problems were not your fault and he would underwrite a new policy. He told me what he needed and I got him the information. I didn’t say anything because he wasn’t sure his company would go along with it, on such short notice….”
“I’ll be damned,” Joe clicked the pen, and put his signature on his new lease on life.
“We almost didn’t make it, but Mr.Randall came through.”
Joe stood up and collected the documents. “Shall we give them the good news?” He motioned to the door.
To say there was a celebration was an understatement. Everyone they could possibly get a hold of was at the Jaw. The party lasted well into the night. No one wanted the revelry to end. The joy this family felt was shared by all, it was just a battle. It was enough to end this season and hopefully keep them going for another year, and it was all that mattered to them.
The ski year was winding to a close. The last of the winter storms had long ago fallen, and the snow base was beginning to grow sparse and thin. Spring is a special time in the Rocky Mountains. Everyone looks forward to stripping off their heavy Parkas’ in exchange for shorts and tee shirts, the shapes of women finally appearing as women, underneath the bulky clothing.
Arapahoe Basin was the last in Colorado to close for the season. Her high altitude assured her of a deep base. The basin held the powder, and packed powder until well into the mud season. She could be skied, long after other areas, except maybe her sister, Loveland Basin, were closed. The summit towered into the thin crispness of the deep blues sky. The ivory snow melting, trickling through the cracks and crevasses, turned into raging streams everywhere, rushing down her steep craggy, creviced sides.
The chairs hung empty desolate and silent swaying in the early morning breeze. The beaver munched on the blossoming bulbs and spring mushrooms, while the ermine and Ptarmigan turned their spring blending brown, frolicked and foraged on the hatching insects among the buttercups and daisies. It was the only sign that life existed, anywhere else in the world, outside of the teeming undergrowth.
Tom and Joe were standing in the parking lot in front of the Lodge gazing fondly at the high peaks. He billowy cumulus clouds softly sliding bye, where slit by the earthen spires. Every person’s thoughts are inherently there own, but at certain times the world comes together to be as one. Humanity bridges the gaps; it is why society goes to the mountains. Here all are humble equals.
“So this is it,” Joe stretched out his arms. He rested his hand on the young man’s shoulder. He was hoping it wasn’t the last time they would be together.
“Every season it’s the same. The end comes much, much too soon. You just begin to know someone, and then their gone,” Tom lamented.
Tom grabbed his Tough Traveler backpack and swung it up on to his broad shoulders. Joe reached across to shake his hand, he pulled his friend tight to him, and gave him a strong fatherly hug.
“Thank you for everything son, “ he voice cracked, as he whispered.
“Aw, come on Joe,” Tom said. “This isn’t the end, it’s a new beginning, and new beginnings are great.”
Joe stepped backwards and nodded a smile, not trusting himself, to speak. He didn’t hide or express emotions well. He opened the car door, and motioned for a last chance ride. Tom shook his head and cinched the black straps of his pack tighter. They hung long and loose, and gently flapped in the mountain breeze.
“When I was a small boy, Snowshoe would haul me up on his knee and whisper in my ear. Reach, Tom, reach as high as you can for your dreams. There’s no failure for reaching for an obscure dream and commin up short. You see my boy, the greatest failure in this life is never reaching for the dream at all,” Tom reflected. “You weren’t afraid to go for it, Joe. Maybe, just maybe, someday I’ll come to your ranch, wherever it may be. I don’t think I will ever be able to forget you and this damn mountain. I’ll think of you when the times are tough and it seems like the whole world has gone crazy. If it ever feels like there is no hope, I’ll remember your fight with the Senator, even though it isn’t over, and I’ll try a little harder, reach higher.”
The two were silent, dwarfed between being and nothingness, the quiet silence, the learned silence, the silence of mountains and men. Joe slid into the Mercedes and started the engine. He drove out of the parking lot and down the highway, toward Keystone and the Dillon Reservoir. He didn’t look back at Tom.
“That young man is a carbon copy of his Uncle Snowshoe. He’ll live to be a Legend in his time.”
Tom stood alone. He was a lone wolf again. A solitary sentinel stationed at the summit of North America. The sun’s rays bathed his body with warmth. The brilliant intense light reflected off of the wet white swaths of snow among the lush green meadows. It awakened all of his nerve endings, flooding his body with an eerie consciousness.
A loud snap followed suddenly by a crack and empty clanging, startled him. Tom spun to face the Lodge and quickly looked at where the sound had come from. The golden eagle grotesquely glared at him, a mute gargoyle atop a naked pole. Tom turned away. He was chilled by the empty resonance of the banging. The metal clasps hung from the cable, kissing the cold steel pole. He was chilled by the hollow barren sound. He involuntarily shivered, against the loneliness. Tom peered along the line of blue lift towers, dotting the mountainside, like a caterpillar, crawling up to the summit. His gaze drifted across Lenawee Mountain and the magnificent East Wall that he had traversed in the fog and snow to get his first shots in with the Patrol. He squinted against the brightness. Trying to visualize the slab wooden miners top shack perched precariously, guarding Montezuma Bowl on the backside. He held fast to the image until it burned brightly in his heart and mind. He would hold Arapahoe Basin in his soul forever, her empty trails, and slopes, the waiting arms of an expectant lover.
Man passes across the face of the Earth, leaving scars of desecration. Nature gives it all away. After man’s reign is through, her divine steeples will stand silently, breathlessly catching passing cumulus clouds. There will be no pain, there will be no sorrow, there will be no glory, no answers. There will only be God’s Universe in its splendor. Tom had come around full circle, almost.
“Begin at the beginning, end at the end, it’s never over until it’s over.”
Snowshoe was a wise old man his wisdom lived on, in Tom. There was one more loose end that had to be tied.
Tom kicked at a rock with his hiking boots. It skipped across the puddles. He splashed through the wet slush and mud of the parking lot. Life long ties had been meld as solid as the earthen rock, itself. He would always make a pilgrimage home. He vowed in his heart, to bring a new friend, each time he returned to the Lady in Waiting.
He started down Route-Six for his long walk in to town, said good-bye to the Professor guarding the switch- backup to the Continental Divide. The Aspens are green with buds. The white and purple blooming Columbine, offset the vibrant hues of the Indian Paintbrush. The forest of Montezuma is alive with its burgeoning life. Tom looked to the summit for one last time. High above the giant bowl, a Golden Eagle cries shrilly, as it raced across the azure sky. Tom’s step lightened, his chest filled with serenity. The aroma of the sage and the pines permeated the thin air. The runoff cascading down the mountainside into the peaceful gentle Valley of the Blue.
Sara was sitting at the end of the bar, her mind was on Tom she had only a handful of customers, this afternoon. The regulars had been stopping in since noon. Business would be slow until summer season started, and would not get real busy, until the Autumn winds brought another winter of snow to the Rocky Mountains.
The front door slowly opened, and a black Stetson appeared. Sara felt her pulse quicken, and the hair on her arms tingled, She quickly stood up and started to wash dishes, glancing blankly at the soapy water. Lifting her hands, she turned them over, the water ripples wrinkled the skin on her fingers.. She realized exactly what she was doing, hiding from Tom, hiding from herself, and the world. Year after year, she stood washing dirty glasses, and listening to others talk about their adventures. She stood at the bar, mixing their drinks and collecting their spare change, to make ends meet.
“If nothing else, he taught you the value of freedom,” she whispered, “ and the courage to spend it.” She pulled the plug on the bar sink and walked to the end to face him.
“Hi,” he said cautiously.
“Hi,” she smiled, her eyes sparkling as they met his. She grasped his hand and held tightly to his forefingers.
“I’m sorry that all this happened. I was wrong to try and force you into something you weren’t ready for.”
Tom looked deeply into her eyes.
“No, I’m sorry, I’m sorry I can’t settle in one place. I’m sorry I have to follow the snow. Powder snow is my junk and I need the fix. I long for the mountains, but I want to be with you so much it hurts, when I’m not.” He saw the same spark that was there when they first met. He had never thought it would return.
“Listen, I can’t explain my feelings when I’m near you. I’m trying desperately to try and tell you how much I love you, it is, I’ve got this crazy dream. Maybe I can…”
Sara put her fingers to his lips. “I’ll male a deal with you. No more talk of love and marriage and you give me a real taste of freedom.”
He loosened the straps of his backpack and slid out of it. He slipped his arm lightly around her waist.
“There’s this little bar in Alta, Wyoming, that I know is for sale, called Wild Bills at Grand Targhee .Targhee’s claim to fame is the first and last with the snow.
“Sounds good to me,” Sara gently put her arms around his neck. Tom pulled her close to him. He felt the warmth of her body next to his. Sara was the sweet serenity he found among the jagged peaks. He adored everything about her. She was his obsession, more than the mountains ever could be.
The balance between man and nature in the mountains is a fragile and delicate one. Life hangs by a taught golden string, stretched almost to the breaking point. Tom would always push towards the edge. Perhaps someday he would push too far. He would regret many things in his life, he would never regret having given his love to Sara.
“No promises.”
“No promises,” he agreed.
No comments:
Post a Comment