"Put it in your pocket," Jim said, handing her the money from the ATM. Soberly he watched his wife, Kathleen, stuff the bills totaling $2000 into her jeans pocket.

As he drove the faded blue Chevy pickup out of the bank’s parking lot, she asked, "Why do we have to give him cash?"

He shrugged, "I don’t know. That’s what he said to do. Maybe he doesn’t trust a check. Afraid it’ll bounce or something."

"We really can’t afford another car," Kathleen said, staring out the window at the traffic.

Her husband didn’t reply.

Yesterday they had stood in the garden at their home arguing about the 1969 Mustang fastback Jim wanted so badly. Their arguments had become loud and angry lately. Kathleen hated the verbal fights and was sure the neighbors could hear them screaming at each other. Usually they fought about money. Jim wanted to spend it. She wanted to save it.

Kathleen tried again. "It isn’t even in good shape," she said referring to the Mustang’s passenger door dented and rusted from some old accident involving a fence. The owner had been so vague about it Kathleen grew suspicious while he was explaining the damage to her husband.

"I want the car!" Jim’s voice rose impatiently. He changed the subject, "Do you still want to go for a hike before we pick it up?"

Kathleen sighed and nodded. "Let’s go to Moraine Park."

As they began the 45-minute trip to Rocky Mountain National Park, neither spoke. Kathleen gazed out the window, taking in the steep walls of the Big Thompson Canyon and the clear, rushing river below. She loved to hike in the Colorado mountains and when they first were married she thought Jim liked it as much as she did. But his interest soon waned and after several years of trying to get him to go with her on the mountain jaunts, she gave up and usually went by herself. She knew this hike was just his way of trying to pacify her about the car.

When they arrived at Estes Park, Jim took the main street through town heading for the south entrance to the national park. Kathleen caught a glimpse of the Rocky Mountain Fudge Shoppe on their left as they slowed to a stop at the traffic light. She thought, several years ago we would stop there on our way back. But not now. With longing she remembered the creamy taste of the shop’s homemade chocolate-covered caramels – dark chocolate was her favorite. Jim’s favorite had been the turtle nut fudge. She wondered if he remembered.

"There’s the fudge shop," she tried.

He grunted and made a left when the light changed. Silence settled in again and neither of them spoke for the remainder of the trip until Jim parked the truck under a shady Ponderosa pine tree in the gravel parking lot.

Kathleen rammed her floppy hat over her dark, shiny hair and slipped her sunglasses on. Then she grabbed her backpack and canteen as she climbed out of the pickup.

"Aren’t you going to leave your fanny pack here?" he asked, watching her shove the smaller pack into the backpack.

"No, someone might break into the truck," she answered already in full stride toward the trailhead, her wavy auburn hair lightly bouncing against her shoulders with each step. She heard the door of the truck slam loudly and knew she hadn’t gained any points with the comment. Somehow he interpreted everything she said about his truck as derogatory.

As she advanced along the shady trail, she listened for his footsteps behind her. When she didn’t hear them, a sudden flash of fear made her swing around, her canteen slapping against her side. He wasn’t there. Fully aware of his tendencies to sulk, she panned the landscape with her eyes, trying to pick his plaid shirt out from the long green grass growing next to the small creek a few yards away.

He was easy to spot standing at the edge of the water, watching for the elusive brown trout in the dark swirling current. As she picked her way over the uneven turf towards him, she wondered why they were still together. If he wasn’t pouting, she was. They found so many ways to offend each other lately. She couldn’t even remember the time when they must have been happy.

They had met in Michigan where he was working in a newspaper office and she was just beginning her first year of teaching. She remembered the evening more clearly than the five years of their marriage. Eager to organize her first weeks of lesson plans at the beginning of the school year, she had worked all day shuffling bulletin board pictures, a couple of pop quizzes, and her copious notes from college. She was determined to start her new career right and wanted her fourth grade class to excel from the beginning.

Hunger pangs stopped her quest and she suddenly realized she wanted peanut butter. Finding none in the apartment’s cupboards, she set out for a small grocery store a mile or so away. After ten minutes of brisk walking, just as she passed a group of children playing catch, a voice from behind startled her.

"Hey!" It was a male voice.

She ignored it and quickened her pace.

"Hey!"

She turned around and nearly bumped into a blue-eyed, blond guy in blue jeans and a denim work shirt. He was grinning at her and said, "Where’re you going?"

She sniffed and turned away, "Nowhere you want to go."

He fell in step with her, introduced himself as Jim Cooper, and began talking. He even went into the store with her while she bought
the peanut butter, then he walked her home. After that they dated for a few months, then decided to get married.

"Do you see any fish?" she asked as she stopped next to Jim
and removed the cap from her canteen. She took a few sips of the cool water wondering if he would answer her.

"No," he mumbled. In silence they stared at the rippling water for awhile, then proceeded on up the trail.

Further on Jim pointed to a meadow on the other side of the creek below them. A large herd of elk grazed on the lush grass, some of the cows lying down chewing their cuds. They could pick out the younger ones born that spring still close to their mothers, some nursing, others frolicking.

"I don’t see any bulls," Kathleen offered, shading her eyes with her hand.

"There’s one over there," Jim said, pointing at a massive bull elk standing aloof at the outer edge of the herd.

About a mile up the trail with Kathleen leading, they heard a rustle in the brush to their left. Both of them stopped and listened.

"Is it an elk?" she whispered.

Before Jim could answer, the nightmare began. Kathleen’s head exploded with panic as a giant blur of snarling fur lunged at her, knocking her to the ground. The writhing cat pinned her on her side and sank his teeth into the back of her neck. She gasped and tried desperately to pry herself loose from the heavy body but the harder she struggled the tighter the mountain lion held her. Its huge paws and legs were wrapped so tightly around her she vaguely felt she was becoming part of the growling animal. She could feel the heat of its breath on her hair and the heavy motion of its chest and belly against her back as it increased its hold on her.

Strangely something inside her told her to relax and she dazedly thought that was the last thing she could do. But as though she had lost control, her eyes slowly began to close as she gave into the murdering cat, allowing it to consume her yet wondering why she was giving up. Through her languid eyelashes and dusty sunglasses sitting askew on her nose she watched Jim running away from her, puffs of dust rising from his boots pounding the trail. She watched, her eyes staring in shock, as he disappeared from sight.