Ansel's Mountain by Reesa Roberts

Kiria skillfully added yellow highlights to the wildflower leaves in the foreground of her canvas. With a critical eye, she stepped back and compared the glistening acrylic landscape to the natural view before her. The daisies didn’t look quite bright enough, and she dipped a stippling brush into her palette’s titanium white as a mild breeze tickled the back of her neck.

Sitting in this sloping mountain meadow had been a wonderful idea, she thought, congratulating herself on her ingenuity. Surely no one had ever painted this scene before. It probably wasn’t often that anyone even climbed up here, let alone crossed the barbed wire fence emblazoned with the words, “Private property: Trespassers will be prosecuted.”

Kiria had never purposefully broken the law before, but the spectacular view she’d glimpsed from the highway had been irresistible. She’d parked her car in the grass beside the emergency lane, hiked for thirty minutes, and climbed a steep, rocky incline to get here.

She smiled in satisfaction as she looked over the painting one last time. With great care, she set the canvas into her paint box and twisted the screws into the wooden frame, securing it in place before closing the protective lid. Returning her tools to their respective slots, she then folded up her easel and aluminum-framed chair. All of these items fit neatly into her backpack, which was thrown easily over one shoulder.

Blinking into the bright mid-morning sunlight, she began the trek back towards the rugged ridge she’d scaled earlier. It was a warm, beautiful day, the kind that was made for lazing in the sun and watching the clouds float by. Although she wanted to stay longer and enjoy it, she knew she didn’t have any right to be here. She should get back to her car as soon as possible.

As she gazed across the meadow, the bordering forest of oak, elm and maple hardwoods beckoned to her. Their branches waved gently in the breeze and she could hear the chatter of squirrels through the rustling leaves. She spotted three of the clever little creatures chasing each other up an oak’s wide trunk, only to leap to a nearby pine bough, scrabbling frantically for a firm purchase. Smiling at their antics, she stopped to watch for just a moment.

The cool, inviting shade drew Kiria forward again as she wiped a drop of sweat from her brow. She skirted around a thicket of briars and then looked up to see a man near the edge of the forest walking briskly toward her, his long legs slicing through the knee-high grass like butter. Cursing silently, she quickly glanced around. There was nowhere to run or hide. She was standing clearly out in the open as he advanced, with nothing between them but nature’s overgrown carpet.

Kiria backed away slowly, watching the man warily. Tall and rugged-looking, his biceps bulged beneath the sleeves of a plain black tee-shirt. He held a rifle in one hand, which stood out starkly against his light khaki jeans. She felt a tremor of fear run down her spine as the distance narrowed, and she squinted to make out his facial features.

Intimidation then gave way to shock as she recognized the incredibly handsome visage of Ansel White, the local network’s wildlife narrator. With an overwhelming surge of excitement, she threw down her backpack and pulled her hair out of its ponytail, shaking it loose to fall in shiny, golden-brown waves down her back. She cursed herself for not putting on makeup that morning, and bit her lips for color. Glancing down at her clothing, she hastily rearranged the hem of her shirt. It fell smoothly just above the top of her low, hip-riding jeans, showing off her new belly button ring. Her shirt’s neckline was cut low, framing the swell of her breasts. A silver eagle dangling from a thin chain nestled in her cleavage. She smiled widely, her even white teeth—that she meticulously bleached every Sunday night—flashing in the sun.

Kiria was about to meet Ansel White, whose Saturday morning show enticed even her mother to drool over its star and inadvertently learn about wildlife! Scanning the immediate area for a camera crew, she wondered if they might even be filming right now! She held her breath as he stopped short several feet away from her, and they stared at each other in silence for an interminable moment. Kiria’s heart pounded against her eardrums. She couldn’t think of anything to say! What did one say to a celebrity, anyway? He was even more impressive in person than on camera, his cerulean blue eyes glinting in the sun beneath dark, expressive brows. She gazed guilelessly up into his angry expression.

“Mr. White!” she finally breathed, feeling a bit faint. “I can’t believe it’s you! Oh, I love your show, Mr. White!”

Ansel White ignored the compliment, propped his rifle butt against the ground, and gazed sternly down at her. “What are you doing on my property?” he growled. His forbidding tone was unfortunately lost on the star-struck girl before him.

“I was painting a canvas! Could I have your autograph, Mr. White? I have a pen here…” Kiria dropped to her knees and hastily unzipped her backpack, rummaging about in its side pocket.

“No.” His gruff reply didn’t register, though, as her fingers closed triumphantly around a ballpoint pen. She jumped back up, holding it out to him.

“I don’t seem to have any paper! Would you sign my backpack, then? This is so exciting to meet you up here! I can’t wait to tell my mother! She won’t believe it!” Kiria picked up the backpack, still pointing the pen toward him with her other hand. Ansel frowned and took it, but then grasped her hand, turning to walk back toward the forest. Kiria was easily led along behind him, hurrying to keep up. He was going to sit down somewhere and sign her backpack! She was holding hands with Ansel White! The dry heat of his palm against her cool one sent waves of pleasure to her brain, and she could think of nothing else as they quickly crossed the meadow.

Leading her past the first few trees, Ansel stopped beside a huge log, dropped her hand, and sat down. Kiria held out her backpack to him, giving him a brilliant smile as he took it from her. Instead of writing on it, though, he laid it down on the ground, dropping her pen on top of it. The unexpected action finally broke the spell that bound her. Why wasn’t he signing her backpack? She stood frozen in place before him, arms hanging limply at her sides.

“Um… Mr. White, aren’t you going to sign it for me?” she asked, beginning to notice that he didn’t appear to be at all happy to meet her. In fact, he looked a bit angry.

“No, I’m not. Now, if you can stop gushing long enough to understand simple English, what are you doing on my property?”

His scathing sarcasm was like a slap in the face. Kiria stared at him in sudden awareness of the situation. She’d trespassed on his property, and he was rightfully angry. Then she’d fawned over him like a senseless idiot while he’d tried to confront her with her crime. Swallowing hard, she backed up a step. “Um… uh, sir… I saw the view from the highway, and I hiked up here to paint it. It was such a beautiful spot, I just couldn’t resist...” Did his frown relax just a little?

“Signs?” she repeated dumbly, staring down at his impossibly broad chest. “Y-yes… I did see some signs...” She blinked hard, her mind rapidly searching for a way to get out of this. “But… but I can’t read,” she embellished.

“That’s ridiculous.” His tone was more matter-of-fact than angry and she dared to glance at him.

“No, really! I have a learning disorder, and I can’t even read the newspaper!” She watched him cock one eyebrow, and the corner of his mouth twitched. Encouraged, Kiria continued, hoping she looked as pitiful as she felt. “I was in Special-Ed for years, and I finally learned to read little words like dog and cat, but that’s about it.”

Ansel stared silently at her until she broke eye contact and looked down at her feet, stirring the pine needles around with the toe of her new Sketchers sneaker.

“So I can ask people to write things down for me,” she quickly answered, aided by the memory of recently handing him her pen. Again he said nothing, leaving her to agonize over what his next question might be. She drew a circle in the pine needles as she tried to immerse herself into this role.

Her half-blind and long-past-driving-age grandfather’s solution came to mind. “I memorized the shapes and symbols of the street signs.”

“My mother.” After a pause, Kiria added, “But, with my money.” She didn’t want him to think she had none.

A wave of frustration ran through her -- how many people had mispronounced it that way before? “It’s Kiria, not Kira. K, i, r—” she began, then looked up hastily and added, “Well, of course I can spell my name, it was only drilled into me about a thousand times a day.”

“Well, Kiria, since you can’t read, I’ll just have to take you down to the local police station and let them sort this out.”

“What?!” She met his stern gaze with astonishment. “But I didn’t know it was private property!”

“Ignorance is no excuse for breaking the law,” he quoted gruffly. Then he reached down, picked up her backpack and pen, and held them out to her. “You trespassed on my property. That’s a crime. Let’s go.”

It was just cut and dried to him, she thought, her pulse racing at the thought of being arrested. How could he do this? This wasn’t the charming man she’d watched every Saturday morning for the past year.

“You’re really going to press charges against me?” she exclaimed, feeling a growing sense of alarm. “But I didn’t hurt anything here! I didn’t steal anything! I just painted a picture, for God’s sake!” All thoughts of hero worshipping finally vanished as Kiria put her hands on her hips and glared down at Mr. Ansel White of local TV fame.

Then she quickly backed up a step as he rose to his full height and lectured, “Young lady, I’ve tried to reason with you, and all you’ve done is lie to me!” His words rang true, but she couldn’t acknowledge them.

“You haven’t reasoned with me, you’ve only accused and threatened me!” she declared, feeling tears sting the corners of her eyes. He’d seen right through her fibbing. “If I’d known this was your property, I’d never have come up here! You aren’t anything like the Ansel White on TV! You’re mean and cruel, and I wish I’d never met you!”

Ansel looked down at her for a long moment and then sighed. “Look, the signs are there for a reason. I’m carrying a rifle for a reason. I keep wild game on this property, and it’s dangerous to be out here unprotected.” He threw her backpack over his own shoulder, since she’d made no move to take it. “How long have you been here?”

“About three hours. I sat there in the meadow and painted, and nothing happened. I don’t believe you. If it’s so dangerous, then why don’t your signs say, ‘Danger’?”

A triumphant smile creased his lips. “If you can’t read, then you wouldn’t know whether they did or not.” As Kiria’s face fell, he took her by the elbow and started off toward the meadow. She tripped along beside him as best she could, unresisting in silently absorbed humiliation. Ansel stopped short a few yards into the meadow and dropped his hand from her arm.

“I’m sorry,” she said, rubbing her arm and staring at the ground. “I’m sorry I lied. You scared me, and I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Doesn’t matter now. All it did was delay this for a bit. Which way did you come up here?”

Glancing up warily, Kiria saw his stony expression and looked quickly away. “Over there,” she mumbled, pointing.

“Lying again already? You couldn’t have come up that way; it’s one hell of a climb.”

“Well, I did. I climbed through the fence from the highway, then up the hill, and then up the rocks to the edge of this meadow.”

He crossed his arms again, and Kiria stared, mesmerized, at his sculpted biceps. “Show me,” he commanded.

“All right,” she replied. “Just as soon as you give me my backpack.” Maybe she could run and get away from him when they got down near the highway, but there was no way she’d leave her expensive tools behind. She held out her hand, and his eyes narrowed.

“I think I’ll hold on to this a while longer.” He took a quick look around the meadow before turning back to her. “Now, let’s go.”

Kiria felt a surge of anger at his continued brusque manner, despite her own guilt in the matter. For God’s sake, she’d apologized already, and she hadn’t caused any damage here. What the hell was his problem? She took a deep breath and declared, “Mr. White, I’m not moving without my painting and art supplies.”

Although she had no doubt that he could do just that, she sat down sullenly in the grass. No point in making it easy for him. When he made no move towards her, she began to pull her hair back into the elastic band that she’d put around her wrist earlier. As an awkward silence settled heavily around them, she stared fixedly at Ansel’s boots.

When she saw him lower his rifle to the ground, she blurted out, “Look, I said I was sorry I lied to you. I’m sorry that I trespassed, too. But you scared the hell out of me! Then you dragged me across this meadow, and now you’re stealing my art supplies! I’d say we’re even. Just let me leave with my stuff, and I’ll be happy to forget I ever met you.” She pulled her knees up and hugged them to her. “I won’t even tell anyone about this, I promise!”

After another minute of silence, Ansel simply picked up his rifle and walked off. Kiria sat quietly, watching him with growing dismay. Her car keys were in the backpack that hung carelessly over his shoulder. She thought he was probably expecting her to follow him, but doing the expected had never been her forte. Wondering exactly what kind of dangerous wildlife he’d referred to, she looked nervously around her. Surely he wouldn’t leave her here alone and defenseless. He’d soon return. Either that, or he’d send the police to get her. She thought back over his recent wildlife shows and couldn’t remember anything bigger than a beaver roaming this area. Everything would be fine. Kiria crossed her legs in a yoga position and began to slowly go through her calming routine.

Ten interminable minutes later, she heard a branch snap from the trees a few yards away. She turned her head and waited, unmoving except for the slight rise and fall of her chest. Then there was a quick rustling of pine needles, and she fought back the urge to jump up and run. If she’d learned anything from watching that rude man’s show, it was to never panic when in danger. What animal could it possibly be? A bear, a mountain lion, or perhaps something more exotic? The rustling grew louder, and suddenly a small rabbit popped out from beneath a bush. Kiria nearly laughed out loud in relief, relaxing as she watched it hop through the grass.

She uncurled her legs to stretch them out just as a sudden blur of tan and white streaked across the grass not fifty feet away from her, pouncing upon the rabbit. Kiria threw herself flat on the ground, trembling in fear as she heard growling and snarling as whatever it was attacked its prey. Then all was silent except for the pounding of her pulse and the still-gentle breeze ruffling through the trees. She slowly opened one eye to meet the yellow eyes of a bobcat standing only a few yards away; the rabbit limp in its mouth. Blood dripped from the cat’s jaws, staining the green and yellow grass crimson, and a rank odor emanated from its dingy pelt. It stared at her for several long moments, then turned its head and quickly padded away into the forest. Kiria lay panting but unmoving, afraid that it might change its mind about what to have for dinner.

Seconds dragged slowly by until suddenly she heard Ansel White say her name in a calm, deep tone. She lifted her head slightly and saw him standing about thirty yards away, his rifle at the ready. “Come over here,” he said.

Kiria immediately jumped up and ran toward him, never looking behind her. It was a bit unnerving to run toward a man with a rifle pointed her way, but she trusted he was just covering her back. Sprinting past him, she stopped and turned to scan the meadow, breathing heavily more from fear than lack of oxygen.

“Let’s go,” he said, and began to walk toward the hill she’d climbed, looking back frequently to scan the area. Kiria scampered to keep up, now willing to obey his every word. She’d never been so scared in her life, and jail seemed a happy alternative to another encounter with a bobcat. When they reached the edge of the meadow, she sat down to begin her descent.

“I’ll go first,” said Ansel. She waited as he slung his rifle over the shoulder with the backpack, and stepped down in front of her. The stone face of the ridge wasn’t very difficult to maneuver, at least not for Kiria, who’d climbed vertical slopes with a youth group over the past summer. It was slow going, though, because Ansel wouldn’t move very far ahead of her, as if he thought she was going to fall. By the time they reached the grassy hill below a half-hour later, Kiria was both annoyed and exasperated, and her bladder was about to burst.

Ansel studied her for a moment. His initial anger had faded as he’d watched her personality reveal itself. Impetuous, immature, and impatient only began to describe her. Yet there was something in the elfin face, the set of her jaw, and her graceful body movements that stirred up feelings he’d set aside years ago. She was strong and slim like a deer, soft and cute like a bunny, and as stubborn as a mule. She couldn’t meet his eyes when she was lying, which was a good thing. The look of exasperation on her face right now, though, was annoying as hell. She held out her hand as if actually expecting him to give up the backpack at her command.

Ignoring her, Ansel turned and started down the grassy hill that sloped to the highway. “We’re not safe, yet,” he informed her. The sound of her muttered curses followed him for the next twenty minutes.

After carefully maneuvering through the barbed-wire fence, Ansel sat down on a grassy slope and stretched his legs out in front of him. “It’s time to talk,” he decreed.

Her eyes widened in surprise. “I don’t want to talk!” she sputtered. “I just want to get my stuff and leave! I promise, I’ll never trespass on anyone’s land again, after what just happened up there. I’ve never been so scared in my life! Please, just let me go home now,” she begged, stepping back and forth from one foot to the other.

“You wanted me to reason with you, so sit down here.” Ansel patted the verdant ground beside him, but Kiria continued her curious dance while backing away from him.

“I… I have to go!” she exclaimed, hopping a little faster. With a tight smile, he motioned toward some nearby bushes. “I need a tissue out of there,” she pointed to her backpack.

Rolling his eyes, Ansel unzipped the bag and began to sort through its contents. But Kiria couldn’t wait any longer. She darted over to unzip a side pocket and pulled out a small pack of tissues, normally used to blot stray globs of paint. Ansel sniffed appreciatively at the clean scent of her hair as it brushed against his face. He glimpsed a close-up view of her porcelain-like complexion before she jerked away, as if suddenly aware of their nearness.

Kiria immediately dashed over to the privacy of the leafy branches. After rustling them about for some time, she finally emerged and slowly sauntered over to sit down next to him, a smile on her lips.

Ansel smiled himself, as he recognized her change of tactics. Confrontation and rudeness hadn’t worked, and now she was going to try sugar and spice. She looked innocently up at him.

“Mr. White, I’m very sorry that I trespassed on your land, really I am!” Her expression was beguilingly contrite. “Please don’t take me to the police! I’ve learned my lesson, I promise! I’m sure you wouldn’t want to see me go to jail, would you? I’ve never done anything against the law before!”

“I don’t know… I am having second thoughts about this. But I haven’t decided what to do with you, yet.” He watched her eyebrows rise uneasily. “Tell me a little about yourself.”

“Um… well… I’m an artist, and I live with my mother, and I’m really, really, sorry I climbed up here, because if I were charged with trespassing, it would ruin my career, because the Mayor commissioned me to do several paintings of this area for the town hall, and I’m really, really sorry for trespassing… Please don’t make me go to the police, I’ve never been in any sort of trouble before, and…” Ansel held up his hand, and she immediately stopped babbling to stare at him, her golden eyes wide.

“I am seventeen! I was born in 1991!” Kiria retied her sneaker and inched away a little.

Ansel’s jaw tightened as he began to lose patience. “You may be quick at math, but I don’t believe you’re a day under twenty-one!”

“I happen to be…” there was a slight pause, “fourteen-hundred and sixty days under twenty-one!”

Ansel stared at her indignant expression in surprise. She’d just unwittingly proven her exceptional math skills, and he knew she was lying. He knew she was older than seventeen. If there was one thing he couldn’t abide, it was dishonesty. Trespassing was bad enough, but in his eyes, this was even worse. A visit to the local precinct would probably go far toward changing her attitude, but he really didn’t want to ruin her career. “Let me see your driver’s license,” he said, watching her cheeks flush.

“Isn’t that breaking the law? You just said you’ve never done anything against the law before.”

Kiria rolled her eyes up toward the fluffy clouds above. “Yeah, okay, but who needs a license on them, anyway? If you get pulled over by a cop, he’s got it all on a computer right in front of him.”

“No!” She jerked it out of his hands and quickly zipped it up, then held it to her chest protectively.

He let her keep it as he stared her down, wondering what to do with her. He wanted to teach her a lesson she’d never forget. He’d wanted to turn her over his knee and spank the daylights out of her back at the old log, but the possibility of danger had been all too real. Now that they’d left the meadow, though… the bobcat had never ventured out here closer to the highway. With renewed purpose, he leaned towards her and grabbed her hands, pulling her to him.

“Young lady, you’ve told me your last lie,” he declared. Kiria struggled to get away, squealing in outrage as he pinned her hands behind her back, pushed over his lap, and held her legs down with his. She was much stronger than he’d thought, though, and it took a while to immobilize her. Raising his hand high, he brought it down hard across the seat of her pants.

Kiria was astonished to find herself upended over Ansel White’s lap. If the first smack hadn’t hurt so much, she’d have laughed. She’d never been spanked as a child, and the fact that it was happening now was absurd! Still struggling, she felt the second strike land. Pain gave rise to anger, and she howled out in protest.

“Stop! You son of a bitch! Let me go!” A volley of stinging slaps immediately followed, and she bent her head to sink her teeth into his thigh.

“Ow!” yelled Ansel, and Kiria was suddenly free. She rolled away and jumped to her feet as he rubbed his thigh and glared at her. Snatching up her backpack, she turned to run down the hill, but he sprang to his feet and stopped her before she’d gone more than a few yards. He pulled her down to the ground with him, one huge arm about her waist.

“Oof!” she grunted as she fell onto his chest. He rolled her onto her stomach, leaned on her back, and then applied at least thirty hard smacks to her denim-clad bottom. Kiria kicked her legs frantically and tried to roll out from under him, but she was effectively pinned. The blows burned through her pants, the grass tickled her chin and arms, and she couldn’t move an inch beneath his considerable weight.

“Stop!” she gasped, “I can’t breathe!” When he rose up a little, she drew in a great lungful of cool air. Her face was hot with embarrassment and she tried to sit up, only to meet the rock-hard wall of his chest.

“No,” he told her, “we’re not done, yet.” He firmly pushed her back down and the punishment continued. Kiria struggled wildly; having no experience at being disciplined, she didn’t know what else to do as pain filled her mind.

“Admit you were lying and say you’re sorry,” Ansel prompted, adding a few more hard slaps.

“Oh! Okay, I was lying! I’m sorry!” she immediately blurted out. “I’m sorry! Please stop! I’m sorry I lied! I can read! I’m really twenty-two! I didn’t lose my license! I won’t lie again, please stop, please!”

Ansel let her go. She quickly rolled away and sat up, burying her face in her hands as unwanted tears welled up. She’d never been so mortified in her life! Her bottom was burning and she desperately wanted to rub the pain away, but to do so was unthinkable. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she wiped the tears away, wondering what one should do after being soundly spanked, especially by a sexy man.

This was the most dramatic moment of her life, she thought. She never cried, she’d never wrestled with a man, and she’d never been caught lying before. After a few long moments, Kiria glanced warily at Ansel, who lay insouciantly supine on the grass, looking up at the clouds.

“I won’t.” She felt the pain begin to fade away, and a liquid warmth began to spread throughout her belly. She’d just been thoroughly spanked for lying, and she was feeling no resentment at all; only an odd sense of requital. All stress and anger had melted away, and she found herself once again in awe of Ansel White, not as a celebrity but as a man.

No one had ever dared to make her do anything before. No one had ever accused her of lying, even if they’d suspected it. Kiria had been raised a free spirit; her mother had rarely told her no, had never raised her voice to her, and had certainly never disciplined her. It was a unique experience, and Kiria realized that she liked the way she was feeling just now. She lay back on the grass and stared up at the sky.

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