Charming Hannah (Big Sky 1)

The more people there are, the fewer the bears.

Once we have our backpacks on and Sadie is on her leash, we set off to the trail head, which is just about a hundred yards from the chair lift. It’s not an easy climb. Four miles of walking steadily uphill is strenuous, but it’s also incredibly beautiful.

We climb out of some trees and onto one of the ski runs, currently covered in grass and flowers, and take a moment to look down onto the valley below.

“Holy shit,” Brad murmurs. We stand side by side and take it all in. We can see about fifty miles south, over three different towns. And to the west is Glacier National Park, which we’ll be able to see even better from the top.

“It’s stunning, isn’t it?”

“That’s a good word for it,” he replies, looking down at me. “How did I forget about this?”

“I think we often take what’s in our backyard for granted,” I reply as we begin to walk on the trail again. We walk over a log bridge that covers a rushing creek, the water high with snow run-off.

My heart is beating at a ludicrous pace. It’s dumb, I’m not going to die on this mountain, but I can’t help it. I’m terrified.

“How are you doing?” Brad asks.

“I’m fine,” I reply. The hike isn’t taxing me at all. I reach down and feel the bear spray on my hip, which makes me feel a bit better.

“That’s the fourth time you’ve reached for that bear spray, and we’re not even a mile up yet.”

“It’s habit,” I say. “You know, you don’t have to follow me. I can walk behind you.”

“Not a chance,” he says and I roll my eyes so he can’t see.

“Are you trying to be chivalrous?”

“I’m learning you,” he replies. “Tell me about this bear phobia.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because you just reached for the spray again.”

My heart is hammering, and I can’t stop looking around me, listening for any tiny sound. We’ve passed several people hiking down. They’re the go-getters, who come up here super early, hike up, and then have to hike back down because the chair lifts aren’t running yet.

I’m not quite that ambitious.

And not one of them was running down the trail for their lives.

“I do have a bear thing. I’m absolutely terrified,” I admit and feel my throat burn with tears that want to come, but I swallow hard. I will not cry over a fucking bear that isn’t even here.

“Why?”

“Because we have the highest concentr—”

“Yes, I know that part,” he says.

“Every summer since I’ve lived here, at least one person has died from a bear attack. Two were injured last year. They love the huckleberries, and there are berries all over this mountainside.”

“Then why hike here?”

“Because I love it.” I shrug and then shake my head, laughing at myself. “Maybe I have this stupid thought in my head that if I face the fear, I can make it go away. But so far, it isn’t working.”

“I’ve never responded to a grizzly fatality on this mountain.”

“So you weren’t there when that poor man and his daughter were attacked last year?”

“Neither of them died.”

I stop and turn around, petting Sadie when she leans on my knee. “You’re missing the point, Brad. It’s an irrational fear for you. You have a weapon and you know how to use it. You also have Sadie, who I’m sure would go ballistic if a bear was nearby.

“I’m just me.” I hold my hands out to my side. “Me and bear spray. But damn it, I live in this beautiful place, and I’ll be damned if I won’t explore it once in a while. My anxiety can bite me.”

“Good girl,” he says with a smile. I don’t respond, I just turn to keep walking, but just then a cyclist coming downhill way too fast turns the corner and bumps me, hard. “Hannah!” Brad yells, as I stumble down the side of the goddamn mountain, stopping myself on a tree trunk.

“Ouch.” I cringe and brush some leaves some my hair.

“Are you okay?” he says from beside me, bracing himself on the tree, digging his feet in so he doesn’t slide down the mountainside, and assessing the damage. Sadie is with him, whimpering.

“Is she sad?”

“She wants to work,” he says. “She’s waiting for commands.”

“What a good girl.”

“Are you okay?” he asks again.

“My ankle hurts.” I take a deep breath, trying to keep my anxiety at bay. “It’s probably just a sprain.”

Or, you know, broken.

It’s not broken.

Except, what if it is broken? I’m on a fucking mountain and my ankle could be broken.

Shit. Shit shit shit.

“Let’s get back up to the trail.” Brad takes my hand and helps me to my feet. I refuse to put any weight on my hurt ankle, so I’m horribly off balance. “How bad is the ankle?”