Janice and her Aunt remained outside to "discuss the situation" while the rest of us went into the lodge. Doug poured sun tea and Summer pretended to sweep the kitchen floor with a feather duster. The sound of cracking ice, as Doug poured tea into glasses, was deafening over our silence.

"We can stay," Janice announced as she bounced into the kitchen. Donna followed her in. She was not as cheerful. "Girls, you have to understand. Money has been pretty tight since we bought this place. We rent space here. That is how we make our living. So, if you stay here that's just space we can't rent. Plus, there are food expenses to consider. What I'm saying is, you can stay, but you'll have to earn your keep." The looks on our faces were like patients waiting in the lobby to see the dentist. Molly, who didn't know the meaning of the word "work" looked like she'd been drilled without Novocain. "Doug and I will put together a list of work that needs to be done. You'll be expected to work at least three hours a day."

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Our room was the attic, which was also the pelt storage room. There was a queen-sized mattress on the floor and a mirror propped up against a wall. Otherwise, the room was just a fury of furry pelts on racks, nailed to walls and hanging from rafters. There was a slightly pungent odor. But it didn't gag us. Besides the inside stairway, a wooden stairway led up to the garage roof level, providing outdoor access. The roof also served as our tanning and observation deck.

The temperature had dropped from 80 degrees to 56 degrees by dusk. Wrapped in blankets and fur pelts we talked and smoked on the deck. Everyone was too exhausted to argue or point blame at Janice. "Check out the stars!" Molly gasped, and we all tilted our heads for the spectacular show. We were in the heart of the Rocky Mountains with two weeks of freedom and untold possibilities ahead of us. What was there to argue about?

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The attic retained the heat of the day, keeping us warm as the four of us slept across the mattress width, feet hanging off the end. By mid-morning we were baked awake as the sun sizzled through the large, unshaded windows.

Adorned in T-shirts and jean cut-offs, we moseyed down to the kitchen. There was a Tupperware bowl filled with some kind of mixed grains and nuts on the counter, along with a note.  "Help yourself to homemade cereal. Fruit and juice are in the fridge. We'll be back by noon."  "Yuk," Molly said at the sight of the cereal. "How about a ham-and-cheese omelet?"

Sunbathing on the deck, Janice said "My Aunt Donna is crazy. Like, I'm sure she didn't know I was bringing you guys." "Oh my God, look over there, in the creek," Molly practically screamed. We obliged. Three long-haired figures splashed around, knee-deep in the water. Even at the distance, about a football field-and-a-half, we could see they were naked. A voice called from a location close to the garage. It was Doug. "You girls ready to get to work?" We threw T-shirts and cut-offs on over our bathing suits. I put on my simulated leather hiking boots. Everyone grabbed at least one bandanna. Bandannas were big that year. We wore them around our heads, around our necks, and draped them from back pockets. We scrambled down the garage stairs and were met by Doug and four shovels.

"Girls, we're going to get you some exercise, mountain-style. We're digging a drainage ditch."  Before his first two sentences registered, he spoke two more. "Janice, your Aunt would like you to give Summer art lessons. So, you go on back to the kitchen." Janice's facial expression mixed great relief and a minor apology as she turned to walk away. It was Robin's turn to crack the ice. "Where do you want us to bury the bodies, boss?" She grabbed a shovel from Doug.

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My shoulders were on fire and my back was threatening to go on strike as Doug passed a plastic water jug to Molly. He worked side-by-side with us, supervising the depth and direction of the ditch and helping us improve our digging techniques. "Break time," he announced, walking toward the lodge.

We splashed water from the jug on our faces after we'd guzzled. In the shade of a small stand of trees, we collapsed on our butts. "At least we're getting a tan," I said. "Yeah, poor, poor Janice doesn't know what she's missing," Robin added. I loved her sarcasm. It reminded me of my family. Molly's humor was self-deprecating. She knew she was spoiled and pampered and was admittedly lazy because of it. Molly made us laugh at her dramatic suffering over anything that took effort. Which was why it was amazing that she appeared to be doing all right despite the labors of "work camp." Smoking her cigarette in the shade, Kool-hand Molly on the surface was secretly plotting an escape. When Doug called it "quitting time" we limped and moaned our way back. Instead of going into the lodge with Doug we detoured to the creek. It was frigid on my shoeless feet. But I splashed the iciness over my body.

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The second evening deck party was a little more lively than the night before. Janice had stolen whiskey from a stash in the kitchen. We drank it from a Tupperware container. We also found a pair of binoculars in the bathroom. "These two guys, college students staying here, asked if we wanted to go into the sauna with them tonight. That's the little building near the creek," Janice said, handing the binoculars to Robin. "So you've been picking up boys, while we're breaking our backs in the field," I said in a hick, Strother Martin voice. Robin said, "It's too dark to see faces. But there is smoke and nakedness coming out of the sauna."  Molly and I fought over the field glasses. I won. There was a small chimney spewing smoke from the side of the building and several figures moving in the dark toward the creek. We strained, listening for voices. "Let's go get naked and sweat with a bunch of strangers."  Molly was making progress in the sarcasm portion of the trip.

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We were ready for Operation China-Dig and had a strategic field position on day two. We figured it was best to get the work done before the sun was high in the sky. Molly went through the motions but there was little earth moved by her shovel. Robin and I also slacked off , partly due to muscle soreness, partly due to mental soreness. Plus, we realized the clock was our measurement, not ditch-depth per day. We'd make great government workers someday.

By noon we'd eaten lunch and showered. Donna told us we were restricted to two showers per week. But we planned to break this rule whenever they were out of the house. We hit the road in our uniform jean cutoffs and Bangladesh shirts (black embroidered T-shirts). Janice stuck a thumb out and we were picked up by the second passing vehicle, a Jeep.

The driver was a sandy-blond guy, cute in a dimpled kind of way. His passenger looked Native American and had darker, longer hair that flew back as the topless jeep bolted toward town. These boys appeared to be 18 or 19 and were coincidentally shirtless. It was a tight squeeze. Molly sat on Robin's lap, déjà vu the Denver cab ride, although the guy in the passenger seat tried to persuade Janice to sit on his lap.

Free from work camp, we couldn't contain ourselves. We jammed to "The Stones" on air instruments. We were animated and wired for sound. We were Disney on a mountain parade, on a mission to buy Coors beer and get goofy.

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Kirk and Bryce led us through the aisles of the IGA and we flash-backed our bus journey story to them while we threw Frito-Lay items and other snackable drygoods into a shopping cart. They were amazed and amused. The Denver transvestite episode had us all laughing tears. "What in the hell did you think would happen on such a long bus trip?" Bryce, the Indian, asked. "We had no idea we'd have so many stops and transfers," Robin said. "Yeah, we thought it would be, like, one continuous ride with the same perverts we boarded with in Toledo," I said, hoping they appreciated my sarcasm and respected our innocence.

Our Jeep transporters insisted on taking us and our groceries back to the ranch. They said they didn't have much else to do, explaining they were ski instructors who were "bored in the off-season." They also wanted to take us out, later. As we unloaded at Summer Breeze lodge, Kirk said, "We'll pick you up at eight." It was a welcome rescue from the garage roof/deck party. Our snacks were safe in the attic and four six-packs of Coors were hidden in a rock dam in the creek, to keep them cold. The boys appeared on schedule and Aunt Donna and Uncle Doug de-briefed them on a reasonable curfew for us, midnight.

"When you said you wanted to take us out, you really meant out, didn't you?" Molly was waxing sarcastic again. The dirt, mountain road was barely wide enough for the Jeep as we navigated the climb. I appreciated the darkness, knowing if I could see the steep drop over the edge I would have a heart attack. "Well, we knew you were too young to get into bars. So, prepare for a real Colorado experience." As Kirk spoke, we hit a rut in the road and the Jeep jolted. The headlights went out. "Oh, shit," I screamed. We were probably inches from careening off the mountainside. "A little electrical interruption. It happens sometimes when we hit mountain potholes," Bryce said calmly. The headlights went on again after Kirk jiggled the dashboard buttons.

We repeated the drill several times, hitting bumps, headlights out briefly and on again. Stopping at a ledge, Kirk announced he had to get out to pee. We all jumped out of the vehicle with the same thought. We'd been drinking beer they had in a cooler. The stars and the moonlight helped us navigate to separate bushes to relieve bladder pressure. Squatting next to Janice, I said "There’s a new mountain river flowing." I heard Robin and Molly talking as they opened the dams on their own rivers. "Do you think we can trust these guys?" Molly raised a good question. "Well, it's either that or walk back," Robin answered.

We emerged from nature's bathrooms. Kirk was waiting. "C'mon let's sit down over here. He reached into his jacket, producing a six-pack. Bryce is back at the Jeep checking on the electrical problem." The star show was more spectacular at this elevation than we could ever have imagined. A beer buzz combined with a Rocky Mountain high elicited "Oh my God's," from all of us as we counted shooting stars.

A loud, startling rustle in the bushes tested our scream reflexes, which were working just fine. The only non-screamer, Kirk, calmly assured us "It's probably just a mountain lion." Bryce rejoined the group and informed us that the Jeep battery was completely dead. The chill in the air didn't compare to the one crawling down my spine. "You guys are assholes and I'm walking back," Molly said as she quickly stood up. Her spine was stronger than I imagined.

"Hey, we're sorry," Bryce said. "Yeah, we were just having a little fun. There's nothing wrong with the Jeep. I shut the lights off when we hit the bumps and that was me in the bushes." "We're cool to go back anytime you want," Kirk added. We were all dumbfounded, laughing and scolding, nervously relieved. "Let's pick up all the beer cans," Bryce instructed as he began to gather up the empties. What's this all about? We just toss our empties out the car windows when we're cruising in Toledo. Environmental awareness had not yet hit the mid-west. Janice sat on Bryce's lap on the ride back. They made-out. Maybe it was the Coors or the mountain air—I secretly wished I was in the kissing seat, instead of her.

Conclusion—»