Page 14 of The Mountain Man's Paradise
“Little bit.”
She laughs, shakes her head, and picks the axe up again. Last night when our flight came in from Hawaii, she took one deep breath of mountain air, turned in a slow circle to take in the trees, then looked at me and said, “Okay. I get it now.”
I’ve been riding that sentence ever since.
She insisted that if she was getting the full mountain experience, she wanted to earn it. That apparently includes learning to split firewood.
It also apparently includes ignoring every bit of advice I give her.
“Feet farther apart,” I tell her.
“Theyareapart.”
“They’re city apart.”
She snorts. “Is that an official measurement?”
“It is now.”
She adjusts her stance, tongue caught between her teeth while she concentrates. The sight of it makes me grin before I can stop myself.
“What?” she asks.
“Nothing.”
“That wasn’t a nothing smile.”
I walk over, stopping close enough that I can smell the scent of my shampoo in her hair.
“Here,” I say, reaching for the handle. “You’ve got too much of your strength in your arms.”
“My arms are doing all the work.”
“That’s the problem.”
She lets me take the axe without protest. I move behind her, guiding her feet apart with the toe of my boot.
“Better.”
“You really are bossy out here.”
“My mountain.”
“So I’ve noticed.”
I chuckle under my breath and step in closer. My hands settle over hers on the handle.
“You use your whole body,” I tell her. “Raise it straight up. Let the weight do most of the work on the way down. You’re guiding it more than forcing it.”
She glances back over her shoulder. “You’ve thought about this before.”
“I’ve split a lot of wood.”
“I meant the teaching part.”
I look down at her. “No.”
She studies me. “I’m your first student?”
