The Steeps

Chapter 14 - The Note

A few hours later, up in the remote high-country, with the sun glinting off the almost vertical face, Casey was standing alone at the bottom of the Steeps, gazing up from where he’d watched his father make his spectacular run. 

He scanned the face, checking the topography, the crevices and slides and outcroppings, until, from back by the trees, he heard a familiar voice. 

“There’s no one right line.” 

He turned around, wasn’t surprised to see the old woman from the bus, knee-deep again in the snow, holding her Chihuahua. 

“It’s all improv,” she said. “Depends on the day, snow conditions, whatever.” 

Casey nodded. He studied her features, the same weathered skin, the crinkly eyes, shaded by the tired cowboy hat… She was, what, like some kind of watchdog spirit who’d taken to him, got into his head to clarify things he wasn’t a hundred-percent on. 

He was thinking how he’d just sort of accepted this, didn’t get freaked by it, when suddenly a sharp crack! split the air above them. Casey jerked his head back up toward the Steeps. 

Way up near the top, up where his father had launched himself, a chunk of ice had broken loose. It didn’t look that big at first as it caromed off the face and fell. But as it kept falling and tumbling it got bigger. And bigger. Plummeting closer and closer. Finally, rocketing down like a missile, it crashed between where Casey and the old woman were standing. 

The old woman looked at the starburst crater where the ice had smashed into the snow. She looked up at Casey. 

“Landings can be tricky.” 

Casey couldn’t argue that. Said nothing as he watched the old woman and her little dog fade. 

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Vera cleared some dirty dishes off one of the Copper Pot's tables in back, pocketing the tip left by a couple who’d come in for the Early Bird Dinner Special. She carried the dishes into the kitchen, passing behind Casey who was at the big double sink – rubber apron tied around his jeans, shower cap over his dreadlocks – scrubbing a large frying pan.        

“How you doing?” Vera asked. 

“Almost done,” said Casey, giving the pan a rinse. 

“There’ll be plenty more later,” Vera said, nodding at some dented old pots in the sink. “Finish those and take your break.” 

Casey thanked her and a few minutes later stepped out the café’s delivery door and took out his cell. He stood on the steps and tapped in a number. 

“Hi,” he said, “sorry about cutting off before, I’m still at work.” 

Ronnie was sitting at a study table in the school library, one hand muffling the phone at her ear. “How’s it going?” 

“Not so bad,” Casey said. “I mean they’re nice here.” 

“So how long’s he been gone?” 

“He took the bus yesterday morning. I thought he’d be back, the Quiller thing coming.” 

“Why didn’t you say something?” 

“Like I said, I thought he’d be back.” 

They spoke for another few minutes, until Casey looked over his shoulder and saw Vera waving for him to come back inside. Said to Ronnie, “I’m sorry, I’m gonna have to cut off again. They need me for something.” 

“When do you get off?” 

“Not till nine.” 

“I’ll be over then.” 

                                                #          #          # 

He’d just gotten home to the loft when he heard the knock, went over and opened the door. Ronnie stepped in, went to kiss him. 

“I’m kinda grungy.” 

She kissed him anyway. He kissed her back, held it for a minute, smiled a little and turned her toward the sofa. 

“He left a note with Vera,” Casey said. “She didn’t give it to me till I was leaving just now.” 

“She waited two days?” 

“She said that’s what he told her to do. Like he meant it to be a surprise, she thought.” 

Casey reached for something on the sofa as they were sitting down. “It came with this,” he said. 

He showed Ronnie the old photograph of him as a kid with his skateboard, posed with Nat, the picture that Nat had had framed. 

Ronnie looked at the picture, looked up at Casey staring at it. 

“I never knew he kept it,” Casey said. 

“It’s really nice.” She touched his hand, looked down at a folded piece of paper next to his leg. “What’d the note say?” 

Casey put the picture down and picked up the piece of paper. He unfolded it and began to read aloud:  “He starts off, If you get this it means I’m still in Denver, seeing to some medical and other stuff. Which means I likely won’t be back for your race. If I’m not, do not postpone it. You are ready and you can take him. Especially if you make the course the Steeps. Remember, the deal was that you get to pick. Quiller might try to finesse this… 

 Casey could picture himself on the day of the faceoff, standing at the start of the trail to the Steeps, Carson Quiller Senior standing with him, Casey tapping a number into his cell. 

“… but if he does, or if you have any trouble collecting the bet, call the number at the bottom here, say who you are to the man who picks up, and hand the phone to Quiller…” 

Casey imagined himself speaking briefly into his cell, then holding it out to Quiller who reluctantly put it to his ear. 

“… There shouldn’t be any trouble after that. But don’t forget to take your phone with you…” 

Casey brought his focus back to the loft, continued reading to Ronnie: “… I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you, but I’ll be tuned in. Just remember, if you fall, go with it, make it part of the show and keep going. Not a bad thought for life in general. Love, Your Dad.” 

There was a long moment of quiet, the two of them staring at the note and the picture. 

Finally, Ronnie said, “So he’s telling you to do it without him. Shake them up with the Steeps.” 

“I should go look for him.” 

“No. He’s working whatever he’s doing his way. Like everything else he does.” 

“He’s got cancer, Ronnie.” 

“I figured.” She thought for a moment. “If there’s an angle, he’ll find it, even with that.” 

Casey looked at her. Looked away, face conflicted. 

Ronnie said, “You’re ready, aren’t you?” 

“If I’m not, I’ll be washing dishes for Vera’s great-grandkids, covering that ten grand.” 

Ronnie looked at him sharply. “What ten grand?” 

Too late, Casey realized he’d let the cat out. “That’s what he upped the bet to.” 

Ronnie kept the sharp look – then shook her head, accepting what was. “Look at me.”  

Casey did. 

“Your father showed you his best stuff.” 

“He did.” 

“Use it.”