Ashes Read Free

black turtleneck beneath a red flannel shirt. A sheathed hatchet dangled from a carry loop attached to the frame of his pack.
    The girl—a kid with blonde pigtails—was a step or two behind. A pink Hello Kitty daypack was strapped to her back, and she wore both a matching pink parka and a scowl. A pair of white earbuds was screwed into her ears, the volume so loud that Alex caught the faintest thump of bass.
    â€œHey there,” the old guy said. He nodded at Alex’s coffee press. “Smelled that halfway down the trail and decided to follow my nose, only Mina beat me to it.” He stuck out a hand. “Jack Cranford. This is my granddaughter, Ellie. Ellie, say hello.”
    â€œHi,” said the girl, colorlessly. Alex thought she was maybe eight or nine and already had way too much ’tude. The kid’s head bobbed the tiniest bit with the throb of her music.
    â€œHey,” Alex said. She didn’t make a move to take the old guy’s hand, not only because this guy, with his hatchet and dog and sullen granddaughter, was a complete stranger, but because the way the dog stared made her think that it would be just as happy to take her hand first.
    The old guy waited, his smile wobbling a bit and a question growing in his eyes. When Alex didn’t volunteer anything else, he shrugged, took his hand back, and said, genially, “That’s okay. If I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t trust me either. And I’m sorry about Mina. I keep forgetting there are a couple packs of wild dogs in the Waucamaw. Must’ve scared the bejesus out of you.”
    â€œThat’s okay,” she lied, and thought, Wild dogs?
    The silence stretched. The kid bobbed and looked bored. The dog began to pant, its tongue unfurling in a moist pink streamer. Alex saw the old guy’s eyes flick from her to her tent and back. He said, “You always talk so much?”
    â€œOh. Well …” How come adults got away with saying things that would sound rude coming out of her mouth? She groped for something neutral. “I don’t know you.”
    â€œFair enough. Like I said, I’m Jack. That’s Ellie and that’s Mina. And you are …?”
    â€œAlex.” Pause. “Adair.” She wanted to kick herself. Answering had been a reflex, the way you didn’t ignore a teacher.
    â€œPleased to meet you, Alex. Should’ve known you had a wee bit of the Irish with those leprechaun eyes and that red mane. Don’t run into many Irish in these parts.”
    â€œI live in Evanston.” Like that answered something. “Uh … but my dad was from New York.” What was she doing ?
    The old guy’s left eyebrow arched. “I see. So, you by yourself up here?”
    She decided not to answer that one. “I didn’t hear your dog.”
    â€œOh, well, I’m not surprised. That’s her training kicking in, I’m afraid. Actually, she’s not mine. Technically, she belongs to Ellie here.”
    â€œGrandpaaaaa …” The kid did the eye-roll.
    â€œNow, Ellie, you should be proud,” Jack said. To Alex: “Mina’s a Malinois, actually … Belgian shepherd. She’s a WMD, working military dog. Used to work bomb-detection, but she’s retired now.” He tried on a regretful smile that didn’t quite make it to his eyes. “She belonged to my son, Danny … Ellie’s dad. KIA. Iraq, about a year ago.”
    The girl’s lips drew down and an edge of color flirted with the angle of her jaw, but she said nothing. Alex felt a little ping of sympathy for the kid. “Oh. Well, she’s a really nice dog.” Which, as soon as she heard the words leaving her mouth, made her cringe. She knew how awkward people got when they found out you’d lost a parent. Even the word made it feel like, somehow, it was your fault.
    The girl’s eyes, pallid and silver, slid from Alex’s face to the