Sierra High (Trail Magic Book 2) Chris

Mor
Visit to download the full and correct content document:
https://ebookmass.com/product/sierra-high-trail-magic-book-2-chris-mor/
More products digital (pdf, epub, mobi) instant
download maybe you interests ...

Finding Elizabeth (Trail Magic Book 3) Chris Mor

https://ebookmass.com/product/finding-elizabeth-trail-magic-
book-3-chris-mor/

California Sunshine (Trail Magic Book 1) Chris Mor

https://ebookmass.com/product/california-sunshine-trail-magic-
book-1-chris-mor/

The Wife Win (The Puget Sound Pilots Book 2) Sierra

Hill

https://ebookmass.com/product/the-wife-win-the-puget-sound-
pilots-book-2-sierra-hill/

Monster Girl Awakened : Academy of Magic Book Two

(Academy Of Magic Books 2) Anne Hall

https://ebookmass.com/product/monster-girl-awakened-academy-of-
magic-book-two-academy-of-magic-books-2-anne-hall/
Collide: A Brother's Best Friend Romance (Sierra Cove
Book 2) Lyssa Cole

https://ebookmass.com/product/collide-a-brothers-best-friend-
romance-sierra-cove-book-2-lyssa-cole/

Magic In His Kiss (Vauxhall Voices Book 2) Anabelle

Bryant

https://ebookmass.com/product/magic-in-his-kiss-vauxhall-voices-
book-2-anabelle-bryant/

The High Stakes Rescue: A K9 Handler Romance (Disaster

City Search and Rescue, Book 29) 1st Edition Jenna
Brandt

https://ebookmass.com/product/the-high-stakes-rescue-
a-k9-handler-romance-disaster-city-search-and-rescue-book-29-1st-
edition-jenna-brandt/

Bitten by Magic (The Vampire Genesis Chronicles Book 2)

Lara Bronson

https://ebookmass.com/product/bitten-by-magic-the-vampire-
genesis-chronicles-book-2-lara-bronson/

1-2-3 Magic Thomas Phelan

https://ebookmass.com/product/1-2-3-magic-thomas-phelan/
 TRAIL MAG ∙ IC

noun

Goods or services freely given to hikers for no reason other than to make their
journey a little better. Comes in many forms. It could be bottled water in the
middle of a dry stretch of trail, cheeseburgers grilled trail side, or a lift to or
from the nearest resupply point.
 Sierra High
Trail Magic Book 2
Copyright © Chris Mor 2022

Chris Mor Books

PO Box 3424
Gresham, OR 97030

Editing by HEA Author Services - Jami Nord, developmental,

and Kimberly Hunt, copy edit

Cover Art by MiblArt

All rights reserved.

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or used in a fictional manner. Any
similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or
by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written
permission of the publisher.

Map used with permission from the Pacific Crest Trail Association. For other maps and more
information about the trail, visit them at pcta.org.
 Warning!
The following is a work of fiction and should not be considered an actual guide to hiking the
Pacific Crest Trail (PCT). A successful thru-hike of the PCT takes months, if not years, of
preparation, both physically and logistically. There are many great resources out there for planning a
trip along all or portions of the PCT. This is not one of them.
Be safe.
Take a buddy.
Take the right equipment.
But above all, get out and see more of this beautiful world of ours.
Go take a hike!
 For Mom,
Thank you for letting me hike around the Three Sisters when I was 11.

And to Troop 148,

For being willing to take an 11-year-old backpacking
 ITINERARY
The Sierra Nevada Mountains
Day 29: Mojave Desert, Belle
Day 31: Tehachapi Mountains, Grinder
Day 32: Camp Above Miller Springs, Belle
Day 33: Landers Meadow Camp, Belle
Day 35: Walker Pass Campground, Bats
Day 38: Kennedy Meadows, Belle
Day 38: Kennedy Meadows, Nova
Day 39: Clover Meadow, Belle
Day 42: Golden Trout Wilderness, Belle
Day 42: Rock Creek Crossing, Grinder
Day 43 Rock Creek Lake, Belle
Day 44 Crabtree Meadow, Bats
Day 45: Mt. Whitney Summit, Nova
Day 46: Lone Pine, Belle
Day 47: Crabtree Meadow Ranger Station, Nova
Day 49: Forester Pass, Belle
Day 54: Muir Trail Ranch, Belle
Day 57: Devils Postpile, Bats
Day 59: Yosemite National Park, Belle
Day 60: Yosemite Valley, Grinder
Day 60: Yosemite Valley Lodge, Belle
Day 61: Tuolumne Meadows, Belle
Day 65: North Kennedy Meadows, Belle
Day 67: Toiyabe National Forest, Belle
Day 69: Echo Lake, Bats
Day 72: Donner Lake, Belle
Day 72: Donner Lake, Bats
Day 72: Donner Lake, Belle
Day 72: Donner Lake,Nova
Day 72: Donner Lake, Grinder
Night 72: Donner Lake, Belle
About the Author
Click on the map to see it on pcta.org.
Of all the mountain ranges I have climbed, I like the Sierra Nevada the best.
- John Muir
 THE SIERRA NEVADA MOUNTAINS
Stretching four hundred miles from Tehachapi Pass in the south to Fredonyer Pass in the north, the
“snowy mountains,” as translated from Spanish, contains three national parks, two national
monuments, and twenty unique wilderness areas. Among its many peaks is Mt. Whitney, the highest
point in the contiguous United States, at 14,505 feet.
The range features heavily in the works of the famous naturalist John Muir. He worked to
promote awareness of the Yosemite Valley and Sequoia Forest, hoping to preserve these and other
natural wildernesses for generations to enjoy as he had. His efforts led to the creation of the National
Park system and the Sierra Club. In addition to having a mountain, pass, and wilderness area named
for him, the John Muir Trail stretches 214 miles along the backbone of the Sierra Nevada from Mt.
Whitney to Yosemite Valley.
Snow covered trails, rushing streams, fast changing weather, and the possibility of elevation
sickness are only some factors which make this one of the most dangerous sections of the Pacific
Crest Trail.
 DAY 29
MOJAVE DESERT
2,146 MILES TO GO

Belle
A soft light filters in through the dirty window, lighting up specks of dust dancing in the morning
sunlight like little fairies. The vision and the quiet bring a smile to my face. Maybe it’s because
Grinder isn’t yelling at us to get up. Or maybe it was all the orgasms last night. Beside me, Nova
gently snores, and when I turn toward him, my smile grows bigger. Yep, definitely the orgasms.
There’s a soft chirp from the nightstand. Nova had called it Grinder’s tone back in Cajon Pass.
He also said it would keep going until he answered it. Which led to having a little fun at Grinder’s
expense. Looking at Nova’s still sleeping—and naked—form, I reach for his phone. Sure enough,
there’s a text from Grinder. I catch the first few words before the screen goes dark, but they’ve got my
full attention. I hold the phone above Nova’s peaceful face long enough for the device to recognize
him, then open the message.
BLAKE: Go ahead and sleep in. Rest up. Leaving at dusk tonight. Do you have
Belle’s number so I can let her know?
Extracting myself from Nova’s arms, I climb out of bed and grab my pants from where they’re
lying on the floor. I put on my panties and T-shirt when I made a late-night run to the bathroom and
didn’t bother taking them off when I climbed back into bed.
Stepping out onto the small porch, I tap on Grinder’s icon and push the call button. I don’t have to
wait long for him to answer.
“Morning, dickhead,” Grinder greets me with way too much cheer. By now, he’s likely had a
shower and two cups of coffee.
“That would work a lot better if I had a dick. Still, it’s nice to know you’ve accepted me as one
of the guys.”
There’s a muffled curse on the other end. “Belle, I didn’t . . .”
I cut him off with a chuckle. “Don’t worry about it. What’s this about leaving at dusk?”
“Uh, yeah. I was thinking maybe we’d do a little night hiking. Avoid the heat.” Grinder clears his
throat. “Maybe see some stars. Bats mentioned you might like that.”
I check the caller ID. Huh. It says it’s Grinder. I shake my head, raising the phone back to my ear.
“Yeah. That sounds great.”
“Okay then. We’ll head out sometime around dusk. According to my app, Tylerhorse Canyon is
twenty-four miles away, but it’s flat most of the way. We should be able to reach it before dawn.”
“Sounds great. I’ll tell Nova when he wakes up.”
I hang up and head back inside. Returning the phone to the nightstand, I strip out of my pants
before climbing back into bed. I slept great last night. Maybe better than I have this entire trip. But a
thru-hiker knows to rest up when they can. If Grinder’s letting us sleep in, I won’t say no.
 I curl up next to Nova, expecting him to still be asleep, but warm fingers brush the exposed skin
where my shirt has ridden up. They trail over my side and across my stomach. Maybe they’ll head up
toward my breasts next. Or even better, go lower.
“Mmm. I like waking up next to you,” Nova mutters behind me.
I wiggle farther into his grasp. And his morning wood. “It has its perks.”
“Who was on the phone?” he asks, placing soft kisses along my shoulder.
“Grinder. We’re staying here until dusk. He wants to cross the Mojave at night.”
“Whatever will we do with the time?” Nova muses. His hand dips under my shirt, his warm
touch making my skin tingle.
“It was weird though,” I mutter, rolling onto my back and threading my fingers with his. It’s clear
what he wants, but it’s so much more fun when he has to work for it.
His sapphire eyes are half-lidded, still heavy with sleep. “Grinder wanting to hike the desert at
night? Sounds like a good idea to me.”
“No, that makes sense. But I think he’s doing it to be nice to me.”
He cocks his head to the side in confusion. “Is that a bad thing?”
“No. It was just weird. Not like him, you know?”
Nova chuckles. “Don’t worry. He’ll be an ass again soon enough.” As if on cue, Nova’s phone
pings with Grinder’s tone. He reaches over me, which has the added benefit of him ending up on top
of me, his hard length pressing into my waking core. He picks up the phone and grins as he holds it up
for me to read. “What did I tell you?”
BLAKE: I fucking hate you. I’m throwing out all your condoms.
I laugh as Nova returns his phone to the nightstand, then gasp when he nips at my sensitive nipple
through the thin fabric of my T-shirt. This time, I don’t resist when he lifts my shirt until it’s joining
my pants on the floor. Nor when he trails soft kisses all the way down my stomach before settling
between my thighs and devouring me as if I’m all he wants for breakfast.
Give the man some credit. Nova knows how to wake a woman in the morning.

We check out of our cabins early, but stick around the property throughout the day, lounging
around and resting up as hikers arrive and depart. Grinder gets a ride to the nearby market and deli
around five, bringing back four cheeseburgers with fries for dinner. While we eat, other groups set out
into the cooling desert as dusk approaches. We won’t be the only ones hiking under the stars tonight.
After dinner, Bats tosses something at me, then a similar item flies toward Nova. I catch the item,
turning it over. “A headlight?”
“It has a red-light function perfect for night hiking,” Bats tells me.
I pull the light out of the plastic wrapping and put it on my head, adjusting the straps for a snug
fit. “Where did you get these?”
“At the outdoor store in Big Bear. They were on the clearance table, and I thought I’d grab a
couple. Grinder and I both have our own, but Nova’s the idiot who left his at home, and I haven’t seen
you using one. I thought they might come in handy, or at least be a good backup.”
“Thanks,” I tell him, smiling with appreciation.
Grinder rolls his eyes as he rises and starts stretching. “Yeah. Yeah. Bats has nice toys. You can
thank him once we’re back on the trail. Get ready to leave.”
We slip into our stretching routines, the quiet interrupted by the occasional “Ow” whenever
someone smacks Nova for staring at my ass for too long. Laughing at their playfulness, I spend a few
extra seconds on certain stretches that might highlight certain parts of my body, stealing glances at
Nova and catching his appreciative smile. Funny thing is, I’d almost swear I caught Bats stealing a
glance or two. And even one from Grinder, though he was the most subtle, if it even was a glance at
all. Then again, it might have been my imagination running away with ideas of being at the mercy of
all three of them.
With a huff, I push those thoughts down. After last night, it’s pretty clear who I’m with, and I’m a
one-guy type of girl. As long as I’m with Nova, I won’t do anything with any other guy, let alone
either of his two best friends. I know all too well what it’s like to be cheated on, and I could never do
that to someone else.
We start out around seven, heading west along the highway the short distance back to the Pacific
Crest Trail. Ahead of us, the sun continues dipping toward the horizon as the sky above us dims, a
few wisps of cloud floating along.
A mile up the trail, we turn and follow the famous Los Angeles Aqueduct for another mile before
crossing it and heading north as the sun disappears, and the sky turns from a soft blue to a velvety inky
color. Stars appear, dotting the sky overhead, a few here, a cluster there. In a few hours, a sliver of
moonlight should appear, inching closer to the new moon in a few days. Another hour into our hike
and the sky is dark enough for the edge of the Milky Way to become visible, streaking across the sky.
We take our first break of the night at the point where we leave the roads we’ve been walking
along and get back to walking on dirt paths. We’ll be walking along the Aqueduct again, except this
time it will be a few feet beneath our feet, not beside us.
I’m sitting on a rock, pointing out constellations to Nova, when Grinder chuckles. “What?”
Grinder shakes his head. “How many science degrees did you say you have?”
“Geology,” I answer. “With minors in forestry and botany. Why?”
“And astronomy?”
I shake my head. “I picked up a few of the constellations growing up outdoors. Or hanging around
the science section of the library. But even if I didn’t know any of their names, I’d still be enjoying
this. They’re a beautiful sight.”
Nova leans in close to whisper, “They aren’t the only beautiful sight out here.”
It’s a good thing we’re all using red lights tonight, because there’s enough heat rushing to my
cheeks to be noticeable.
“Thanks,” Bats says from my other side, causing me to choke on a sip of water. “But don’t let
Belle catch you checking me out. It might piss her off.”
“Stop distracting her,” Nova tells Bats.
“I’m not distracting her.”
“Yes, you are. Why else would she identify the Pleiades as the Big Dipper?”
“What?” I ask in confusion.
Nova takes my hand, adjusting it to point at a cluster to the right of where I was pointing. “Ursa
Major.” He uses my finger to trace the familiar line to the North Star, and I mentally kick myself for
not picking up the mistake. “Polaris. It’s cool. The Pleiades, or Seven Sisters, look a lot like the
dippers.” He lets go of my hand and I already miss his touch. “What’s next?”
 I gaze at him, curiosity taking over. “Why do I get the feeling you should be the one pointing out
stars to me?”
Nova smirks and shrugs, leaving Grinder to fill in the blank. “He would, but he left his telescope
at home. Honestly, I’m surprised he didn’t get offended when you went stargazing with Bats first. Or
haven’t done more of this yet.”
“Kind of hard when you’re marching us until we’re halfway asleep,” Nova retorts.
“Speaking of which,” Grinder says, rising and dusting his pants off.
A few minutes later, we’re back at it, with Nova taking over, pointing out astronomical wonders
as we walk.
As we pass the occasional Joshua tree on the ground, the stars, a few clouds, and a sliver of
moon pass overhead. For a couple of stretches, the trail disappears, and we end up having to rely on
our map apps and the occasional wooden post bearing the trail logo to stay on the path until we turn
up into the Tehachapi Mountains. Around six in the morning, as the sun is rising over the desert to the
west of us, we flop down under some Coulter pines next to a creek in Tylerhorse Canyon, taking over
the site from a group heading out for the day. We top off our water bottles in the small, steady stream
and snag a few bites of dried food. None of us care to stay awake long enough to cook anything.
I spend a few minutes taking photos of the sunrise before the soreness of the night’s hike becomes
too much and I collapse atop Bats’ ground cloth next to Nova. He wraps me in his arms from behind,
while in front of me, Bats’ deep breathing lulls me closer to unconsciousness. I’m asleep before the
sun rises above the horizon.

After sleeping well into the afternoon, we enjoy a good meal, making use of the water next to us
to cook with. The day is cooler than expected, rising into the low eighties instead of the nineties, and
by five we’re all antsy enough to grab our bags.
“There’s been reports of a water cache about sixteen miles from here,” Grinder says as we head
out. “It’ll make for a short night, but it will also make it easier to go back to hiking during the day.
We’ll rest up and head out around noon.”
The rest of us nod in agreement as we fall into line, Nova setting a leisurely pace as he resumes
playing astronomer for us. The first half of the night goes smooth, as we trek up to a ridge with Oak
Creek Canyon to the northwest of us and the Mojave Desert sweeping down and to the southeast.
We’re crossing through a field of sagebrush when Nova screams and jumps off the trail. “Holy
shit, holy shit, holy shit!” He runs toward Grinder a few yards up the trail.
I shriek as Bats’ hands wrap around me from behind, pulling me into him and away from
whatever danger Nova spotted. “Are you okay?” Bats asks.
I take a deep breath and relax into his firm embrace. “I’m good.”
“What happened?” Bats asks Nova, who’s hunched over panting from his sprint.
Nova points toward where he was walking moments ago. “Something lunged at me.”
As Nova tries to catch his breath, the rest of us examine the surrounding area, sending three
beams of red light across the surrounding terrain. Our beams converge a few feet off the trail from
where Nova jumped, and we find the culprit. A rattlesnake, somewhere between three and four feet
long, with its teeth buried in a furry rodent twitching and struggling to escape the snake’s grip, but
losing the fight.
 Bats huffs an amused chuckle at his friend’s expense. “Don’t worry, Nova. You weren’t the one
on the menu tonight. Are you all good over there?”
Grinder looks at Nova, then back to us. “Yeah. You and Belle okay?”
“We’re both good,” Bats assures him, releasing his hold on me. “Just a little spooked, thanks to
Nova. We’ll back up a bit and give the snake a wide berth. Meet you up the trail a bit?”
Grinder and Nova agree, their lights turning and heading away as we drop back a few paces,
heading into the brush to make a wide arc around the snake. Bats steps in front of me. “Let me go first,
in case the snake has any friends nearby.”
I wave for him to go first. “Ah, Bats. You really do care about me.”
“Of course I care for you,” he blurts out, then stops dead in his tracks. “I mean, I like you. A lot.
As a friend.”
I laugh, reaching out and giving his hand a squeeze. “Wow. I didn’t know you could get that
flustered. Your cheeks are all red and everything.”
His hand reaches for his face, and my laugh grows deeper as realization hits him. “Because you
have a red light shining on it.”
I give his massive hand one more squeeze. “Hey, I like you too, big guy.” Then I give him a
playful push forward. “Come on. We don’t want to keep Grinder waiting.”
We catch up to Nova and Grinder a few minutes later, resuming the trail as we continue heading
northeast along the ridge. Two miles later, a low hum fills the air and the whoosh of wind turbines as
we pass a large wind farm before dropping to reach Oak Creek. It’s a small stream, but there are a
few gallons of water in plastic jugs under a nearby picnic table, which we use to top off our bottles.
“Camping isn’t allowed here, but a few hours should be okay,” Grinder says. Bats nods and
drops his pack, going for the ground cloth. “Once the sun is up, we’ll go find somewhere to sleep for
a bit. Then maybe try to get a few more hours of hiking in this afternoon.”
We all mumble our agreement as we roll out our sleeping bags. I try to stay awake for a few more
minutes, soaking in the beautiful night sky above. All too soon, I’m fast asleep.
 DAY 31
TEHACHAPI MOUNTAINS
2,089 MILES TO GO

Grinder
Oak Creek trickles along nearby while I sit atop the picnic table, flicking through location data of
the trail ahead for the third or fourth time. I’ve lost track, but that’s the idea. My mind is whirling, and
I need it to stop. If it doesn’t, I’ll hear Belle again. Her shriek made my heart do weird things I don’t
want to think about. Or admit to. Not that it matters. She’s Nova’s girl. She’s off-limits. I sigh and
start scrolling through again. There aren’t many good places to stop, but it doesn’t hurt to keep
checking.
Someone’s stirring, making the tarp rustle, and my gaze flicks toward the brunette sitting up and
stretching. She digs something out of the pack behind her, and I try not to admire the shape of her ass
in the dim morning light as she bends over her bag.
Belle turns as she stands, noticing me in the light of my phone screen. “Oh,” she squeaks, then
clamps a hand over her mouth, glancing down to see if she’s roused Bats or Nova. “You startled me,”
she whispers when she’s drawn closer. “What are you doing up?”
“Trouble sleeping. What about you? We’ve still got a few hours until we need to leave.”
She holds up the small pink device Bats gave her in Big Bear. “Gotta pee. I’ll be right back.” She
turns up the trail, heading away from the creek and disappearing into the brush a safe distance from
the water.
My gaze follows her, but only out of concern for her safety. It has nothing to do with checking out
her ass again. And I’m not anxious while I wait for her to return. Nope. Not at all.
“What time is it?” Belle asks, sitting down next to me when she returns a few minutes later.
“Quarter to six,” I reply, shutting off my phone.
Above us, the dark night sky is giving way to the pre-dawn glow, highlighting more of Belle’s
features. Her button nose. Thin, soft lips. Blue eyes, which seem to find wonder in everything she
sees. What does she see in me that fills her with wonder? I push the thought from my head, moving to
stand. “We should get back to sleep.”
A delicate hand touches my forearm, and I pause. “Stay?” Belle looks at me with a softness that’s
hard to resist. “The sun should be up any minute. Stay and watch the sunrise with me.”
I return to my spot next to her. The sky has already gotten lighter, going through a myriad of
shades of dark to light blue. The few clouds far above turn a golden hue as bright light peeks over the
eastern horizon.
“The guys have probably already told you this, but I used to do this all the time. Waking up early
to watch the sunrise,” I say, trying to distract myself.
“Why don’t you anymore?”
I freeze, uncertain of what to say. Except I do, and it’s the weakest excuse I have. “No time. Too
much school. Too much business. Just . . . too much of everything else.”
 Belle scoffs at the answer. “That’s exactly when you should take the time to watch a sunrise. Or a
sunset. When you don’t have time for anything else. Taking a moment to appreciate nature’s beauty can
be the best thing you do for yourself.”
Belle leans closer, resting her head on my shoulder. I should push her away, put some distance
between us. Except, her words ring truer than anything I’ve heard in some time. Being this close stirs
up those feelings from earlier. Feelings I don’t want. But pushing them down, pushing her away,
seems like the stupidest idea. So I let her stay there on my shoulder.
We watch in companionable silence as the sun creeps higher above the horizon. She leans against
me. And I let her. Enjoying a moment I don’t have a right to enjoy.
She sits up, letting out a small yawn, then turns to stare at me with those sky blue eyes and a soft
smile. “Thanks for sitting with me.”
I smile back. “Anytime,” I tell her. I might even mean it.
She heads back to her sleeping bag. For a moment, I consider opening my app again, but with one
more glance at the morning sun, I head back to my sleeping bag and close my eyes, content for once as
a new day begins.

My alarm goes off at nine and I rouse the others. After some quick snacks while rolling up our
bedding, we get back to the trail.
We pass through the wind farm as the trail follows dirt roads and paths marked by wooden posts
high above Cameron Canyon. Dust and shrubs cover the area, leaving the morning sun to beat down
on us as we crisscross down the switchbacks leading into Tehachapi Pass, reaching Highway 58 just
before noon. As we cross the overpass, Belle is overcome with a giddy excitement which would have
driven me crazy a month ago. Now, it’s mildly amusing.
Yeah, shut up.
“You seem way too excited for an overpass,” Bats points out. “Is the heat getting to you? Do we
need to take a break?”
I glance around us. The temperature is getting up there, but there’s no shade in sight.
Belle smacks him. “Yes. But not because of the heat. This is the start of the Sierra Nevada.”
Belle spreads her arms in a classic ta da pose, then frowns when none of us join in her excitement.
The hill in front of us doesn’t look much different from the one behind us. Shrubs look the same
too. “Are you sure about that?”
She cocks her head to the side with a look that says she’s trying to decide whether I’m being
serious or not. “Of course, I’m sure. We’re not just passing over a highway. We’re passing over the
Garlock Fault, which divides the Tehachapi Mountains to the southeast from the Sierra Nevada to the
Northwest.” She gestures toward the two sides, emphasizing her point. “Actually, the Garlock is
pretty unusual for being a left-lateral fault when most of the faults in California are right-lateral.”
Nova gets a goofy grin like he’s enjoying her explanation a little too much. “So this is another
one of those special places for you?”
Belle squints as she marches up to Nova and jabs a finger into his chest. “No. No more rocks.”
She waves her threatening finger at me and Bats. “From any of you. I’m serious. Leave No Trace. Got
it?”
We all nod.
 But seriously, fuck that.
Bats hangs a little too far back for Belle to notice when he stoops down. I pick up the pace and
pretend to tighten my shoelaces next to a nice stone. I distract her with a grin as she draws close.
“You know, why don’t you take the lead, Belle.” Her up front makes it easier to drop the stone in my
pocket without her noticing. Or the fist bump I get from Bats.
At first, the Sierra Nevada aren’t much different from the range south of the pass. Same dusty
trails. Same two-foot tall shrubs that don’t shade worth shit. But there is a lot more wind on this side
of the pass. Enough that an hour later, when we reach the first patch of dirt worth stopping at, we keep
going, heads down against the dust and sand raking across our exposed skin. Same for the next two
spots. It’s not until we reach the fourth spot, five hours into our day, that we finally plop down behind
a rickety wind shade someone’s built. Well, maybe not too rickety, since it’s still standing in this
wind.
I mutter a curse when I check the time. Bats and Nova are tired, but Belle looks exhausted. We
shouldn’t have watched the sunrise. I should have shooed her back to her sleeping bag and done the
same. Now we’re paying the price for that moment. Still, when I look at her, the corners of my lips
rise, and I know I’d do it again if she asked. I shake it off, turning away from the site. “Need to piss.
Then I’ll take a look at the map and see how long we can stay.” There’s a chorus of mumbled
agreements as I head up the trail and around a bend.
I unzip my pants and widen my stance right before Bats steps up beside me, doing the same.
“What the fuck, dude?” I demand.
Bats grins at me. “What’s wrong? Intimidated?”
I don’t take the bait. Instead, I turn away and focus on the task at hand.
“Beautiful sunrise this morning,” Bats says.
His comment catches me off guard, and I turn back, almost spraying his foot. Would have served
him right. Fixing my aim, I tell him, “You were free to join us.”
He grins. “Nah. You two seemed to be having a moment. All cute and cuddly.”
“Fuck off,” I snap, but there’s no heat in the retort.
Bats chuckles. “Hey, I get it. You’re late to the Belle-Is-Awesome bandwagon. No worries, bro.
Just glad you’re finally on board.”
“That’s not . . . I’m not . . .”
He eyes me for a moment. “Hmm.”
It’s my turn to eye him, wondering what the hell that’s supposed to mean. Glancing down, I notice
the dry patch in front of him. “Did you come here to piss or to piss me off?”
Bats smiles, shrugs, and zips his pants back up. “Nope. All good.” He turns to leave, leaving me
confused as shit.
I hurry to zip up and follow, catching him on the outskirts of the clearing. Grabbing his arm, I tug
him just off the trail. “Spill it.”
“Spill what?”
“You have that I know something you don’t look.”
“And?”
I huff. “And you know how much that look pisses me off. So spill it.”
Bats turns his gaze away and I follow, my eyes landing on Belle as she laughs at something
Nova’s said. The sound causes a slight twinge in my chest.
 “Dangerous territory ahead,” Bats says.
My gaze returns to meet his. “They say it’s the toughest part of the trail.” Bats huffs like maybe he
wasn’t talking about the trail. “Unless there’s something else on your mind?”
Bats takes in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He shakes his head. “Nah, dude. I’m sure we’ll
kill it, as long as we’re careful.” He crosses over to flop down on the tarp next to Belle and Nova.
I take a moment for my own deep breath, then join them.
“This is going to be awesome,” Belle is saying, as I flop down on the far side of Bats. “It’s been
great seeing the different parts of the San Andreas Fault, but now we’ll really get to see the results of
plate tectonics.”
Her untamed enthusiasm, which would have annoyed me two weeks ago, keeps me enthralled.
Amazing what a good cup of coffee does. It’s reminding me of why Bats and I took up hiking in the
first place. To get out and experience the incredible world around us.
Yes, Bats was right about her. Just don’t tell him. Shit like this goes straight to his head.
I pull out my phone and open my map app. “Reel in the enthusiasm and get some rest, princess.
That way, we can see it sooner. Okay?”
There’s a rustle of polyethylene as Belle climbs over Bats’ chest, looking down at me. Bats
seems amused by it. Then again, he’s used to pile-ups of two hundred pound dudes, so Belle must feel
light as a feather. Nova takes the opportunity to stare at Belle’s ass. Yeah, I don’t blame him for that
one either.
“How much sooner are you thinking?” Belle asks.
“Hmm?”
“Are we still hiking today?” Her tone is cheerful, as usual, but there’s exhaustion in her eyes.
Same with Bats and Nova. Hell, I’m sure I don’t look much better.
I sigh. “Ideally, we’d make for a place with water.” I hold up my phone, showing her the next
likely location. “But it’s twelve miles away and the closest place to camp is two-thirds of a mile
before it or four miles after. Not good choices.”
Belle snatches the phone from my hand and starts scrolling through locations.
“Belle . . .”
She cuts me off by pressing a single finger to my lips. “Shh. Looking.”
“Playing with fire there, Belle,” Bats warns. “Keeping Grinder from his maps.”
“What? Are you going to spank me for being bad?” Belle blurts out, then clamps a hand over her
mouth when she realizes what she’s said. There’s a loud smack, and she shrieks. “Nova.”
I push up to glare at my friend, who’s grinning ear-to-ear.
“What? You really want Bats smacking you with those paws of his?” Nova asks with a playful
smirk.
As Belle turns back to the phone, there’s a slight reddening of her cheeks. Interesting. Maybe our
Belle likes a little Beast.
Oddly enough, the look on Bats’ face says he also might be up for finding out.
“Here,” Belle says, turning the phone and passing it back as she climbs off of Bats’ chest. “Five
miles away. Plenty of room. Little wind from the reports.”
I glance at the comments. “And no water.”
Belle sighs. “No water. There doesn’t seem to be a way around that.”
Unfortunately, she’s right. “How’s everyone’s water?”
 “I’m okay,” Belle replies.
“Same,” Bats adds.
“Not so good,” Nova answers with a sheepish frown. “I guess I was thirstier than I thought
today.”
“I’ve got you,” Bats tells him. “I should have enough for two, but we’ll have to make it stretch.”
“Everyone got a dry dinner available?” I ask. This time, I get three heads nodding. “Okay, then.
Let’s try to get a few hours’ rest, then we’ll head for Belle’s tent site and get out of this wind.”
 DAY 32
CAMP ABOVE MILLER SPRINGS
2,071 MILES TO GO

Belle
The sky is brighter than I would have expected by the time I wake up the next morning. Sitting up,
I run my fingers through my messy bedhead and grab my phone. “Um, Grinder?”
A few feet away, Grinder looks up from where he’s leaning against a rock, reading something on
his phone. Probably a map. “Morning,” he greets me with a pleasant smile.
Nope. The sun is too far up and Grinder’s smiling. I must still be dreaming. “Is it really . . .?” I
trail off, certain what I was about to ask is impossible.
“Almost eight?” Grinder finishes the question for me. “It is. I thought everyone could use the
extra sleep.”
Mouth agape, I nudge Nova, who swats my hand away and reaches out to pull me back down.
“Go back to sleep.”
I squint and point at Grinder. “Who are you, and what did you do with Grinder?”
Grinder chuckles. Standing and making his way toward his pack, he explains, “Yesterday was
pretty brutal. We all needed some rest.” He reaches into his bag and pulls out a familiar pouch.
“Coffee?”
I nod and set to work on my morning routine. A few minutes later, Nova is yawning and making
breakfast with me, Bats is listening to something as he packs, and Grinder is handing me a cup of
coffee. I could get used to hiking like this.
By nine, we’re back on the trail. Sporadic trees provide some shade against the arid heat as we
descend to the head of Pine Tree Canyon, then make our way back up to cross along the eastern slope
of the two peaks making up Sweet Ridge. The low hum of wind turbines along the ridge continues
throughout the morning, mixing with the call of chickadees in the branches.
We stop for lunch when we reach a pipe-fed cement cistern next to the trail the map calls Golden
Oaks Springs. The surrounding trees are an oasis from the building heat of the day, which is heading
toward eighty. There’s another couple already there filling their bottles when we arrive. “We were
just heading out.”
“Take your time,” Grinder replies with a warm grin as we drop our packs.
“Someone’s feeling friendly today,” I remark, collapsing into Nova, who wraps an arm around
me. “See what a little extra sleep does for your mood?”
Grinder chortles. “Don’t get used to it, princess. If I hadn’t let you bums sleep in, we’d all look
like him,” he says, jerking a thumb toward Bats.
The big guy lays sprawled out a few yards away, earbuds in and eyes closed. He must really
enjoy the Stephen Hawking book I recommended. He’s been listening to it every chance he gets. Bats
raises his hand, then his middle finger, waving it at Grinder. I laugh as I pull out my lunch. Bats still
has a good amount of my food, but I’ve kept most of my energy bars, and I still don’t trust him around
my jerky supply.
A half hour later, our stomachs and water bottles full, we set out to finish our traverse around
Cache Peak. The guides call it the tallest peak in the southern Sierra mountains, but at a mere sixty-
seven hundred feet, it’s a foothill compared to the peaks we’ll reach in a week. From there, it’s a
slow drop into a dry ravine, losing our tree coverage as the temperature reaches the high seventies.
As the temperature keeps climbing, so do we, passing along grassy hillsides.
Just before five in the afternoon, we reach a large open field surrounded by blue-oaks, at about
the same time the temperature tops out at eighty-four. Sweat is dripping down my forehead and giving
my moisture-wicking shirt a tough challenge. On the outskirts of the field, stone fire-rings dot the
landscape, two of them already surrounded by hikers setting up in the shade.
Ahead of me, Grinder stops and turns. He sighs and wipes the back of his hand across his sweaty
brow. “Bats, pick a spot to set up camp.”
“Fuck yes,” the big guy moans as he looks around the perimeter. He points to a spot nearby.
“There.” We all follow him to the chosen location, plopping down under the first tree we can find. It
only takes Bats a few minutes to have his hammock up. He hops in and rocks back and forth.
Nova soon asks the usual pressing question. “Water?”
Grinder pulls his phone out and opens an app. Nova scoots close and pulls me into his lap. I get
all kinds of ideas of what I’d like to do while I’m sitting here, his cock beneath my ass, but I’m tired
and dirty for all the wrong reasons, so I push those tempting ideas aside. For now.
“Miller Spring is about a mile down the road,” Grinder is explaining to Nova. “It’s a bit of a
climb coming back, but it’s the closest water. Hour, maybe an hour and a half round trip.”
“Great,” Nova mumbles. “When do we leave?”
Grinder looks at me, then back at Nova and Bats. “Would you two mind going? I need to do some
planning, and I’m hoping Belle can help me.”
Nova looks about as stunned as I feel. Sure, Grinder and I had agreed in Acton to work together,
but we hadn’t actually done so yet. “Um, yeah. I can do that,” I tell him. Then ask Nova, “Mind filling
my bottles?”
Nova gives me a quick peck on the forehead before shifting me out of his lap. “No problem.
We’ll even take Grinder’s bottles. Won’t we, Bats?”
Bats shifts to climb out of his hammock, scowling. “Hell no. If you want to take his bottles, fine.
I’m taking Belle’s.”
“Love you too, asshole,” Grinder says, digging out his empty containers and passing them to
Nova. “I’m stealing your hammock while you’re gone.”
“You can’t. But Belle can,” Bats replies, as he and Nova take off for the dirt road heading to
Miller Spring.
I hop up into the hammock like it’s a swing, letting my legs dangle over the side. “Well, what do
you have so far?” I ask Grinder once the others disappear down the road.
Grinder watches me swing, rubbing the stubble on his chin. He’s been growing it out since
Hikertown, which might be the longest he’s gone without shaving the entire time we’ve been on the
trail. It looks decent on him. Like maybe he’s loosening up a bit, letting go of all the expectations
weighing on him. I tilt my head, inviting him to join me. “Just get over here. I’m sure we’ll finish
before they’re back. I won’t tell.”
Soon Grinder’s swinging with me. He’s even grinning. Since we cleared things up between us,
it’s been easy to be alone with him. If he keeps it up, I might even admit to liking him. Just a little.
Maybe.
“What’s up?” I ask him after a few quiet minutes have passed. “I’m sure you already have
everything planned. So, what do you really want to talk about?”
Grinder turns to look at me, and for a moment, it’s like there’s a whole new him swinging with
me. His face is lacking the cold frustration he sported during our first month together. His brown eyes
have a glow to them, like warm espresso instead of day-old drip. His firm jaw has relaxed, no longer
gritting his teeth at every stop.
Grinder breaks the silence, clearing his throat. He opens his mouth to say something but stops.
Instead, he looks away, pulling out his phone and opening his maps app. “We’ve got a little over a
hundred miles to Kennedy Meadows. I’m thinking four days to get there, then maybe take a rest day
before heading up into the Sierra Nevada.” He pauses, noticing the scrutinizing way I’m looking at
him. “What?”
“What was the first thing you wanted to say?” I ask, not letting go of the feeling in my gut that
there’s more to this conversation than our hike.
Grinder stills, letting his phone drop to his lap. “I just . . . I wanted to ask how you and Nova are
doing.”
I blink in surprise, scrambling to think of what to say. “Oh. Um, good. I guess. I mean, yes, we’re
doing good.” I reach over and squeeze his hand. “Thank you.”
“I’m glad.” There’s a sincerity in his eyes that makes me believe him. “You deserve good. You
both do.”
I cock my head, unsure of his meaning. “Thanks?”
He shakes his head. “That didn’t quite come out right. I meant, with all the bullshit your ex has
put you through this year, you deserve something just as good. I’m glad Nova can help you with that.
He is, isn’t he? Helping you get over your ex?”
I nod, trying hard not to think about how much help Nova gave me in Lancaster. Well into the
night. Of course, all it does is make me want more of his help. “He is. But why do you make it sound
like he needs a little good too?”
Grinder winces, realizing he said more than he wanted to. “You know we gave him his nickname,
right?”
“Nova? Or Casanova?”
“Both. Bats named him Nova back in high school.”
“Because he loves the science show.”
Grinder nods. “Exactly. But I changed it to Casanova in college. He’s always had interesting luck
with women.”
Crap. I don’t know if I want to hear about Nova’s relationship history. I know he’s more
experienced than me, but then, that’s not saying much, since I’ve only had one boyfriend. Hearing
about it can only lead to wondering what I have to offer that other girls didn’t, or why the hell Nova’s
with me. But this seems to be important to whatever Grinder wants to tell me. “Interesting how?”
“He has that laid-back model look, so there have always been plenty of women lining up to
spend a night with him.”
I blanch slightly. Nope. I was right. I don’t want to hear this. “Please don’t tell me about all the
women he’s slept with.”
 “What? No. That’s not what I’m telling you.”
“Then what are you telling me?”
Grinder lets out a huff. “Yes, he has some history. Enough to warrant the name. But it’s not why I
gave him the name.”
“Then why?”
“Those girls were all for a one-night stand with him. But Nova’s always wanted something more.
He wants something deeper, but all they wanted was his body. Anytime he’s tried to date someone, he
gets shot down, thanked for the night, and left looking for the next girl. Until you.” He pauses, giving
me time to process his story. It puts some things into perspective, like how he can be good in the sack,
but trips over his words when he’s trying to be romantic. “Look,” Grinder says, taking my hand in his
and pulling my gaze to meet his. “I’m happy for you, Elizabeth. I am. But I’m ecstatic for Kayden. As
long as you’re here for him. If you’re just using him for rebound sex—”
I cut him off with a sharp squeeze of his hand. Grinder’s not trying to persuade me to leave like
before, he’s looking out for his friend. I can respect that. I’d do the same for Rachel. “Hey. You don’t
need to worry. That’s not me. I’m here because I like him. A lot. You were right. He’s a good guy. But
he’s not the only one, you know.” Grinder’s eyes go lighter, hopeful even, and I snicker. “Bats is
pretty good too.” His eyes drop and he tugs his hand back, but I hold tight. “And you, Blake. You’re
not half bad either.”
He chuckles, relaxing again. “Half bad?”
I shrug. “Well, you make a decent cup of coffee, at least.”
He laughs, deep and rich, jolting me like a shot of espresso. “Decent? I can still hear you
moaning over your first sip of my coffee.”
I laugh with him, remembering that first delicious sip in Acton. After a minute, I shoulder bump
him. “So, are we good here?” Grinder grins and nods. “Okay then. Kennedy Meadows in four days,
huh? What’s the plan to get us there?”
Grinder turns his phone on and shows me the screen. “So we’re here. At the top of Back Canyon,
above Miller Spring . . .”
An hour and a half later, plan firmly set, Bats and Nova walk back into camp. Bats leading the
way with a snarl on his lips. “Next time, you make the fucking hike,” he growls at Grinder.
Leaving the two to glare at each other, I snag Nova and pull him behind the trunk of a blue oak.
As soon as we’re out of sight, I swing my arms around his neck, pulling him close and claiming his
mouth in a passionate kiss full of tongues and desire and need. His hands find my waist, fingertips
digging into my hips as his growing erection presses against me.
“Was it that bad staying behind with Grinder?” he asks when we pull apart, panting and
breathless in the best of ways.
I laugh, giving him a playful smack. “No. He’s tolerable when he’s not being an ass.”
“Sounds like something I might have said a while ago.”
“If you’re looking for an ‘I told you so’ that’s not why I pulled you back here.”
“So why did you? Not that I’m complaining about getting to kiss you.”
I raise a hand to cup his cheek, staring into those deep blue eyes. “I wanted to tell you I’m here
because of you, Kayden. Not the sex, or to piss off Grinder, or any other reason. I’m here because I
want to be here with you.”
Nova’s lips meet mine again. This kiss doesn’t have the passion of our previous kiss. It doesn’t
leave me aching for him in my core. Instead, it’s tender and full of hope for something deeper and
leaves me aching in my chest. Because I’m warming up to the idea of something deeper with Nova.
By the time we break apart this time, the bulge in Nova’s pants is hard as granite and threatening
to tear through his zipper. “I need to feel my cock inside you again,” he moans. “But all my condoms
are in my damn bag.”
I lick my lips, about to suggest another option, when Grinder’s voice breaks the mood. “Nova.
Belle. We’ve got an early morning. Let’s go.”
“Fuck,” Nova groans, leaning his head back against the tree. “When’s the next stop with a room?”
“We can reach Kennedy Meadows in four days,” I tell him. “If we stick to Grinder’s plan, we’ll
be there for two nights. It’s a campground, but I’m sure there’s somewhere to be alone while we’re
there.”
Nova’s gaze grows dark with wanton desire. “Can we make it in three?”
Heat races through my body, straight to my core, but I reluctantly push off. “You have no idea
how good that sounds, but we’ll be pushing it to make it in four.” Grinder’s voice rings out again, and
we both sigh. “We should get back to camp.”
“You go,” Nova tells me, placing a soft kiss on my forehead. “I, uh, need a minute.”
I smirk as I chance a glance at the still hard bulge in his pants. I should be nice, and not tease
him, but I trail a hand down his body and cup his cock, the fabric of the pants the only barrier between
us. Leaning close, I whisper with a lustful voice, “Be sure you picture me satisfied when you’re done.
I was last time.”
I leave him with a peck on the cheek, a playful smile on my lips, and a groan escaping his mouth.
 DAY 33
LANDERS MEADOW CAMP
2,055 MILES TO GO

Belle
I wake when an alarm that isn’t mine goes off from somewhere nearby. Grabbing my phone, I huff
with annoyance at the time. Someone unzips their tent. I sit up and open my tent door enough to peek
outside. Grinder’s stretching outside his tent. By the time I pull on my pants and climb out of my tent,
Grinder is sitting about thirty yards away in the center of the meadow, facing east. As I approach, he
looks up from his camp stove, which is heating the small espresso maker he picked up in Big Bear.
“Crap,” I mutter, flopping down on the opposite side of the stove from him. “I didn’t grab my
cup.”
Grinder shrugs and tells me, “No worries, you can use mine.” I shoot him a curious glance, and
he smirks back at me. “What? The sooner you’re caffeinated, the sooner we can get going.”
I chuckle, but don’t argue as I take a seat next to him. The last bits of the dark blue of night soften
as warm light spills out above the trees surrounding the camp, highlighting the nearby peaks.
Remembering some requests from my Instagram feed, I pull my phone out of my pocket and snap a
few pictures of the sunrise. When I tuck my phone back in my pocket, Grinder’s pouring the first cup
of coffee and holding it out for me. I wrinkle my nose at the dark liquid.
“I don’t have any of Bats’ cream or sugar,” Grinder apologizes.
“Well, if it’s good enough for you . . .” I take a sip of the dark brew, letting the flavors sit on my
tongue long enough to savor, but not long enough for it to burn my tongue. I moan in appreciation, then
hold out the cup to Grinder. He pauses from pouring fresh water into the device. “It’s good, but I
won’t drink a full cup straight. Save the grounds for another morning.” Grinder takes the cup, which
we end up passing back and forth a few times as we finish watching the sunrise.
By the time we get back to our tents, Bats is stuffing his hammock into its pouch, water for his
breakfast bubbling away on the stove next to him. We each have gotten our morning routines down
pat, and we leave the meadow by seven, despite Bats dragging Nova out of his tent at around six
twenty, much to most of our enjoyment. After all, I doubt Nova enjoyed being hauled out in his boxer
briefs as much as I enjoyed the sight of his toned body. Until he noticed me staring at him, grinned,
and strutted that fine ass back to his tent.
Our morning is a series of climbs up into the Piute Mountains. We alternate passing through
grassy meadows with spectacular views of the surrounding landscapes, and shaded paths through high
reaching Jeffrey pines, black oak, and squat scrub oak chaparral. The weather promises to be rather
hot again today, so we push ahead early in the hope we can take it slower this afternoon.
After rounding Weldon Peak, we reach a junction with a dirt road dropping west of us into Little
Heart Canyon. Right in the middle of the junction, someone has arranged a series of stones to read six
hundred. Checking my app, whoever did it was close enough, so we scrunch together to take a few
selfies for my Instagram feed to mark another hundred miles down.
 Two miles later, we cross into the Sequoia National Forest and make a stop at Robin Bird
Spring, another project of the Forest Service, like Golden Oak Springs yesterday. Water pours from a
spigot into the metal cistern. A couple of hikers are already here, snacking on granola bars while they
top of their water supply. We ask and answer the usual “where are you coming from” and “where are
you headed” questions as we top off our own water and grab a bite to eat for lunch. We don’t stay
long, shoving some snacks into our hip pouches to nibble on throughout the afternoon.
Leaving Robin Bird, we keep climbing through a forest of Jeffrey pine, but we pause long enough
in a meadow to snap some shots of clusters of pure white phlox in bloom with their five-petaled
flowers. We reach a saddle around two, separating the Cottonwood and Landers Creek watersheds,
then start our descent into the latter as the temperature climbs into the eighties. The trail takes us
above the dry creek bed until reaching the western tip of Landers Meadow.
I’m halfway across a large dirt road when Nova curses, bringing the entire party to a stop.
“What?” Grinder demands.
Nova holds up the drinking tube of his water bladder. He winces as he says, “I’m empty.”
Grinder stares at him in disbelief. “How? Didn’t you fill up back at the spring?”
“I guess I forgot,” Nova admits with a sheepish wince. “I still have a liter in my water bottle.”
Grinder lets out an annoyed growl. “That won’t be enough to get to Willow Spring. Fuck. Give
me a minute.” He finishes crossing the road and drops his pack as he digs his phone out. “Double
check,” he tells Nova while he opens his map app.
Bats helps Nova out of his pack and I cross to sit down while we’re stopped, giving Nova a
reassuring peck on the cheek. That gains me a slight smile as he pulls his bladder and water bottle
out. “Just the liter,” Nova confirms, pouring the contents into his empty bladder.
“Can’t we share?” I ask. “Give him a half liter each or something?”
“It’s getting hotter and we’re about to lose the shade,” Grinder says as he scrolls through options.
“Landers Meadow Camp is about a mile away. They have a piped water source. It’s only a half mile
detour, so it shouldn’t slow us down too much. But we’ll need to get in and out quickly if we’re going
to reach the next water source before sunset.”
Twenty minutes later, we reach a large campground near the intersection of two forest roads.
There are a few campers around the western field, a mix of hikers and car campers, including a
trailer with a ramp that looks like it was used to bring in an ATV or some dirt bikes.
Our destination is in the eastern field, on the other side of the dirt road we hiked in on. When we
reach the metal trough with the pipe, a half dozen others are there filling water bottles and bladders.
When one of them hears we’re heading for Willow Springs, he advises, “Don’t. It’s a bug infested
mud hole. We tried stopping there to fill up this morning. Would have run out of water if it wasn’t for
the cache at Kelso Road.”
We thank him for the information before turning toward Grinder. I can already see the wheels
turning, weighing this new information. “Fuck,” he mutters as I draw closer. “Just . . . fuck.”
“I don’t remember seeing many camping spots along the way,” I say. Grinder nods.
“So, do we keep going?” Nova asks, screwing on the lid of his water bottle and tucking his water
filter away.
Grinder ponders this for a long moment, scratching his beard. “Good camping spots become
sporadic ahead. Water even more so.” He lets out a long sigh, then adds, “I’d hoped to reach Kennedy
in four days.”
 I reach over and grab his hand, giving it a squeeze. “Hey. It’s all good. Maybe we don’t take a
full day off when we get there. Maybe just a pair of half days. Like we did at Big Bear.”
“No. We need a good rest day before heading up into the Sierra,” Grinder admits.
“Then we’ll make up the time elsewhere.” Grinder fixes a questioning look on me. “We need to
get you to Canada by Labor Day. Right?”
Grinder shakes his head. “You don’t have to do that, Belle.”
“Yes, I do.”
“You have your research. And there’s still plenty of time.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I’m still going to take a million pictures, but that doesn’t mean we can’t meet
both goals.”
Grinder sighs. “All right. We stay here tonight. With the extra time, we can clean some of our
clothes and freshen up. In the morning, we’ll fill up before we leave. And maybe a little extra?” he
asks Bats.
The big guy nods. “I have my three-liter collapsible container in my bag. I can fill it before we
head out. Belle’s eaten most of her food in my bag, so the extra weight’s no big deal.”
“I’ll go find us a place if you can finish topping my bottle off?” Grinder asks. Bats takes the
bottle, and Grinder heads across the dirt road.
After finishing at the trough, we find Grinder setting up his tent in a grove beneath some tall pine
trees, two of which are just the right distance for Bats’ hammock. Within minutes, he’s swaying away,
listening to his audiobook again.
As Nova and I finish setting up our own, a click-clopping draws my attention back to the road.
The sound of a horse whinnying proceeds four horses, two carrying an older couple and two carrying
large bags on both flanks, as they stride into the campground. They make their way to a spot a few
yards from us, and I bounce with giddy excitement.
Grinder walks up next to me and follows my gaze, an amused smirk crossing his face. “What?
Haven’t you ever seen one before? We’ve passed enough evidence they’re out here too.”
He’s not wrong. The PCT was designed for both hiker and equestrian use, but other than their
“evidence,” as Grinder puts it, I haven’t seen any on the trail yet.
“I have, but not this close before. Do you think they’d let me pet them?”
Grinder chuckles, then nods his head toward the couple dismounting. “Let’s find out.”
We greet the couple in the usual way, finding out they’re out here doing the southern section of the
trail. Even though most consider that portion to end in Hikertown before crossing the desert, they’re
heading for Kennedy Meadows, where their friends will pick them up.
When I ask, they’re all too happy to let me pet one of their horses. They wave me closer and
introduce me to a chestnut mare named Sophie. “Hello, Sophie,” I coo, running my hand along the
smooth side of her neck, my smile growing with every stroke. “She’s incredible.”
The older lady chuckles. “Yeah, when she’s willing to go where you want her to, she is. Have
you been around horses before?”
I shake my head. “My scout troop went to a horse ranch for summer camp one year, but I got sick
before we were supposed to leave for camp.”
Grinder’s attention snaps to me, a look of almost remorse in his eyes. As if he’s sorry I missed
that chance. He turns back toward the couple and asks, “I don’t suppose my friend could get a ride on
Sophie? Once around the campground, maybe?”
 “What?” I stammer out in surprise.
The couple look at each other. “I don’t know,” the husband replies. “We’ve been putting them
through their paces a lot. They need the rest.”
“Hold on a second,” Grinder implores, then dashes back to his tent.
“What’s that about?” Nova asks, taking Grinder’s place beside me.
“I don’t know,” I admit.
Grinder returns a minute later, a small, familiar white bag in his hand. “I have about a half bag of
my personal blend,” he tells the couple, holding it open for them to get a whiff. “Once around the
campground, and it’s all yours.”
“Grinder,” I call out in shocked surprise. “What are you doing?”
He turns and smiles. “Getting you the horse ride you missed.”
I turn to Nova with stunned disbelief, but he just shrugs like it’s no big deal. “He does this all the
time. Better to just let him do it than deal with him being grouchy for not getting his way.”
The wife takes an extra sniff. “Deal,” she says, taking the bag.
“Deloris . . .” her husband snaps.
“Oh shut it, Hank. Maybe if you had packed enough coffee for the entire trip, I wouldn’t have
said yes. Now help this young lady up and take her around camp.”
Hank scuffles over, helping me to get my foot in the stirrup and climb up onto Sophie. I take a
moment to settle into the saddle, getting my other foot into the opposite stirrup, then hold on tight to
the horn. “Ready?” Hank asks, grasping the reins. I glance at Nova and Grinder, who both share a
look that says either I’m the best thing they’ve seen, or the funniest. Assholes. I nod to Hank, then let
out a loud eek as Sophie lurches forward.
For the next five minutes, I’m gently bounced around the campground, Hank leading Sophie while
Nova and Grinder walk beside us. Sophie glides along as if I weigh nothing. As my ride progresses, I
relax, taking in the new vantage point from up high.
“This is amazing,” I say to no one in particular. “Everything looks so different up here.”
Hank chuckles. “Yeah, a few extra feet of height does that. Lets you see things you wouldn’t from
down here. I’ve done the trail on foot, and while we might not be able to take the horses everywhere
the trail goes, we get a unique experience in the places where we can.”
Naturally, Grinder’s the one to ask, “How far do you go each day?”
“Oh, about thirty miles a day, but that’s more for sore asses than the horses. A horse in good
shape can do fifty a day with a day off every three or four so you don’t wear them out.”
We soon arrive back at Hank and Deloris’ campsite, and the guys help me down off of Sophie.
“Thank you so much,” I squeal, giving Sophie one last pet.
“Glad you enjoyed it,” Hank replies. “And I look forward to enjoying the coffee.”
As we head back to our own site, I stop Grinder, throwing my arms around him before he can
protest. “You didn’t have to do that. Thank you.”
Grinder hugs me back, a warmth sparking between us I’m okay with. I’ve gotten along with Nova
and Bats from Day One. Grinder’s taken some perseverance to reach an understanding. It’s clear why
the other two kept insisting I give him time to come around. Now that we seem to be there and I’m
getting to know him, I’m glad I listened.
“It’s what friends do for one another, right?” He says it as if he’s not really certain. Like maybe
he doesn’t really have too many friends other than Bats and Nova, and that makes me a little sad for
him.
“It is. But I can still thank you for it. Though it leaves you with one big problem.”
Grinder freezes. “Problem? What problem?”
I snicker as I pull away and give him a playful wink. “How are you going to caffeinate me in the
morning?”
Nova howls in laughter, patting his friend on the back. “Shit, dude. She’s got you there. And don’t
even think of suggesting that instant crap you have buried in your pack.”
Grinder and I share in Nova’s laughter as we step back into camp.
“What did I miss?” Bats asks, taking his earbuds out.
“Grinder traded away his coffee for Belle’s ride, and now he has nothing to wake her up with,”
Nova explains.
Bats winces. “Yeah. Good luck, bro.”
“Well, while you figure that one out,” I say to Grinder, “I’m heading back over to the trough to get
some clothes washed. And maybe myself. Anyone joining me?”
I don’t even have to look at Nova to know how big of a grin is on his face, but it’s there. Wicked
and playful all at once. Grinder rolls his eyes and waves us off. “Go, you two. I’ll get a clothesline up
before you get back.”
Nova swats me on the ass. “You heard him. Let’s go.”
A giggle escapes me as I hurry into my tent to collect my things. Pulling my sleeping bag out of its
stuff sack, I fill the sack with my laundry, my eco-friendly soap, and a special bag for doing laundry
on the trail. I pop out of my tent a moment before Nova does the same, slinging his own bag of laundry
over his shoulder.
We take our time heading to the water trough, talking about my ride and how good it’s going to
feel to be at least somewhat clean for the first time in days. I laugh and smile the entire way, as I
usually do when I’m around Nova, his ever present grin as contagious as always.
We get to the trough and I pull out the special bag for laundry. Nova takes one look and chuckles
as he shakes his head. “Let me guess. The Trail Gear blog again?”
“Maybe, but it’s still a good item.” Nova nods in agreement, then pulls out the same bag. “Wait.
Is that where you found it too? I thought you said the writer’s an ass.”
“Oh, he is. But he knows his stuff.”
We work through our laundry, adding a few items and some soap to the bag with each go,
dumping the dirty water in the tree line away from camp. I add the T-shirt I’m wearing to the last load
before sealing the bag, working in the soap, spinning the bag, and rinsing each item before putting
them in the stuff sack to take back to camp to hang and dry. Finally, I pull out my washcloth and get it
wet before attacking the dirt and sweat that’s accumulated on my skin for the last four days. After the
second time I groan with relief, my gaze meets Nova’s heated eyes as they track the motion of my
washcloth over my skin. My hand slows, then takes a deliberate swipe across my collarbone and the
swell of my breasts.
He runs a hand over his chin, considering all the things he’d like to do to me at that moment. My
body tenses with anticipation, because his look is making me think of all the things I want to let him
do to me. Fucking Nova in Hikertown was something I had desperately needed. Now that we’ve done
it, I’m eager to do it again, and again, and hopefully, again. One of these days, I hope to test just how
much endurance he has.
 After a quick glance around the mostly empty field, Nova declares, “Fuck it.” He grabs my hand
and leads me into the tree line away from camp. Stopping in a small clearing, he spins around,
capturing my lips in a crushing kiss with all the pent-up desire that’s been building over the last week.
I meet his ferocity in kind, parting my lips in both an invitation and a demand, and soon our tongues
are tangling in a fervent dance.
Nova’s hands grip my ass, digging in and pulling me into his firm body. I let out a small whimper
when he pulls his lips away from mine, but when he trails kisses across my jaw and down my neck, I
tremble in anticipation for where else those lips might be heading. Soon enough, his lips cross my
collarbone and reach my breasts. My nipples strain against the fabric of my sports bra, and I’m
desperate to be rid of it.
When he nips at my pert points, I arch into him, but the restrictive garment isn’t helping. “Get me
out of this damn thing,” I demand.
Nova’s hands slide up my back, leaving parallel trails of tingles along their way. Hitching his
fingers under the seam of my sports bra, he peels the vile fabric off, releasing by breasts from their
torture. I groan my appreciation, taking a moment to rub the soreness out of them, even though Nova
clearly has plans of his own for them. I hope it includes his warm, wet tongue.
He shifts uncomfortably. “Problem there, Casanova?”
“Fuck, Belle. Is that what that sound is each night? You taking off your bra?”
A chuckle escapes me. “Um, yeah. What did you think I was doing?”
“Taking off your boots. Shit, I won’t be able to hear that sound again without picturing you
rubbing those beautiful tits.”
“Hmm. Is that so?” I slow down the pace of my hands, opting for more of a teasing show than a
soothing rub down. “Anything in particular you want to do to them?”
His eyes have been following my hands, but his gaze snaps up to meet mine. A wicked smile
creeps across his face. “Fuck yes.”
I release my grip on my breasts as he descends on them, taking one of my nipples in his mouth
while he kneads the soft flesh of the other. Fuck, I could spend the rest of the day like this, with Nova
worshipping my breasts. But we have a limited amount of time before someone notices our absence.
“Please tell me you have a condom with you?” I beg.
Nova chuckles. “Ready so soon?”
“Maybe you should check and find out,” I suggest. He slides his other hand around from my ass to
my front, flicks open the button of my pants, and pulls the zipper down. Pulling my panties aside, he
runs a finger along my slick seam and I almost stumble as my body goes weak from the stimulation.
He rubs at my aching clit, and I gasp as a wave of pleasure washes over me. Then, he sinks a finger
into me and I lose it, clenching around his finger as he swirls it across my G-spot.
As my orgasm tapers off, I reach for Nova’s pockets. “Back right,” he instructs. I find the foil
package as he opens his fly, releasing his straining cock. I grasp it, pumping it for good measure
before tearing open the packet and rolling the condom down his shaft.
“How do you want to . . .”
“I don’t care, as long as you get your dick in me now.”
Nova bends down, helping me the rest of the way out of my pants, then guides me toward a
nearby tree. “Hands on the trunk,” he says, turning me away from him. I do as he says, and am
rewarded by the feel of his cock rubbing down my crack until he finds my wet opening.
 “Kayden,” I whisper, a plea of desperation.
Nova answers my plea by grasping my hips with both his hands and sliding into me. He goes
slow at first, making sure we’ve got good footing in the loose soil. Once he’s certain we won’t tumble
over like gawky teens, he thrusts into me with building speed and force, pounding me harder and
harder until he’s fucking me with everything he’s got.
My next orgasm builds with the intensity of his thrusts until he reaches up and tweaks my nipple.
That’s when I lose control. My head tilts back and my eyes roll up as I’m lost in a flood of pleasure.
My walls clench again, pulling him into his own release and milking him for all he has.
I collapse against the tree, panting and satisfied. “We really need to get back,” I moan, wishing
that wasn’t the case. I open my eyes as Nova removes the used condom and kicks at the dirt under a
nearby bush. “What are you doing?” He pauses, looking like a deer in the headlight. “You can’t bury
that.”
“I can’t keep it, either.”
“You know the rule. Pack it in, pack it out.”
He casts a forlorn look at me. “Belle, come on.”
I shrug as I pull my panties and pants back on. “Maybe you need to think about that before we do
this again.”
That thought puts a smile back on his face. “Again, huh?”
I bite my lip, taking a moment to savor his naked abdomen. “Fuck yes. But only if you dispose of
that the right way.” Nova sighs, then ties the condom in a knot. He winces as he slides it into his
pocket, and I chuckle. Stepping closer, I slide a hand along his chest and lean in for a kiss. “Or maybe
next time we’ll find a different way to take care of you,” I say, licking my lips. “Now come on. We
need to get our clothes hung up to dry.”
 DAY 35
WALKER PASS CAMPGROUND
2,013 MILES TO GO

Bats
Things have been looking up ever since Grinder and Belle sorted things out and we’ve moved
past the Mojave, yesterday being an exception. The shade we enjoyed in the Sequoia National Forest
disappeared when we left the forest two miles after leaving camp. We found the cache at Kern Valley
Road we had been told about, pausing long enough to take a drink and top off. Past the road, we only
found empty containers in a few scattered spots.
We passed Pinyon Mountain to the southeast of the trail, then struck north, taking breaks
whenever we passed under a Joshua tree, which wasn’t often. Most of them taunted us from a dozen
yards away. As the temperature climbed toward ninety, even Belle seemed less willing to stop,
snapping pictures only when we paused for water, content to let Grinder do his thing and get us out of
this oven.
We stopped for the day at a trailhead next to a dirt road. A place the map calls Bird Spring Pass,
but there certainly wasn’t a spring around there. There were, however, several five-gallon jugs. Many
still full of water.
“A bunch of hikers got sick after drinking from one of the bottles,” another hiker told us. “I read it
in the comments on my app. If you filter it, you should be fine, but a couple of commenters are
suggesting boiling or tablets if you’ve got them.”
I looked at Grinder and cringed. We’re each carrying two liter hydration systems in our packs
and a liter bottle on the sides. Add in the extra three-liter bag I was carrying, and that was a shit-ton
of water to boil. “I’ve got tablets,” I told him. “They taste like crap, but our energy drink powder
should cover the taste.”
Grinder agreed as we looked for a spot among the brush. Apparently, off-roaders like to go
ripping through there from time to time. “We can boil water for dinner tonight and in the morning.
Shouldn’t be a problem.”
Without any trees for my hammock, I laid down my ground cloth again. Belle and Nova joined
me, looking all lovey-dovey at each other. I’m glad they could finally take things to the next level.
Having Belle around has improved this trip for all of us. She’s put a smile on Nova’s face that was
missing all winter. Pulled Grinder out of his ass and got him appreciating the trail. And me? She’s
been a great distraction from all the could-have-beens that had been floating around my head. It’s
given me time to come to grips with the fact my Sundays will be about watching football, not playing
it. Falling asleep next to her, even though it’s Nova’s arm wrapped around her, I’m all right with how
things are.

When I wake, I’m surprised to find Belle isn’t still lying between Nova and I. Sitting up, I spot
her a few yards away, working with Grinder to boil water for breakfast and instant coffee. It got
pretty cold last night, so I welcome the mug she hands me when I join them.
“When did you get up?” I ask.
Belle shrugs, pouring a packet of grounds into her own cup. “About twenty minutes ago. Missed
the sunrise, unfortunately.”
“I got some photos for you,” Grinder says, and I turn to look at him in surprise. He just rolls his
eyes and goes back to boiling water.
“Thanks.” Belle beams, then scampers off to change for the day.
I draw closer to my friend and ask in a low voice, “You took photos for her?”
“Shut up,” Grinder tells me, catching the irony of my question. “We haven’t started the day yet.”
I chuckle and lift my mug for a sip. “No, we haven’t.”
Freshly caffeinated, Grinder wakes Nova and we swing into our morning routine. Soon, we’re
leaving the trailhead to start our climb into the Kiavah Wilderness. About mid-morning, we reach a
pinyon pine forest, which keeps us shaded for the next couple of hours. We stop for lunch before we
trade the shady trees for shrubs and sun again.
As we reach the mid-afternoon heat, we reach a trail junction leading to McIver’s Spring.
Checking our water levels and noting we have three more hours ahead of us, we veer off for the
quarter mile to the spring. When we get there, we find a board and batten cabin shaded by some
pines.
“This looks cozy,” Nova quips as we round the building to the front porch.
Opening the door, I shake my head. “Pass,” I tell him, taking in the litter and graffiti.
“We’re just here for the water,” Grinder reminds us, helping Belle with her pack.
We find the pipe below the cabin, and are a little dismayed by the trickle, but at least it’s water,
and it’s been a hot day. There are a few empty one-gallon jugs lying about. We rinse one out and place
it under the spigot, taking the chance to rest on the porch while we wait for the jug to fill. Belle pulls
out a spare packet of jerky and passes it around, making sure I get it last. I don’t blame her. I doubt I
would have passed it along, and this way, I don’t have to. She made some great jerky, after all. Once
the jug is full, we top off our bottles and head out, eager to reach our destination.
An hour after leaving the spring, we reach the long descent into Walker Pass, the scorching
afternoon sun beating down on us as we make our way through the rocky, shrub-covered landscape. I
hold back a bit, partly to go slow because of my knee, but also to let the dust the others are kicking up
settle down. When we reach the bottom of the slope, Nova throws his arms up and cries in relief as
he turns down a spur, passing a sign I’m soon close enough to read announcing the Walker Pass
Campground.
The others have collapsed under one of the three pergolas, another being used by a family in an
RV and the other by a group of hikers, who wave at us in greeting. Reluctantly, I pull out my ground
cloth again. The only thing upright around us are the metal supports of the structure that are too close
together for my hammock, and the concrete bathroom along the edge of the road leading onto the
grounds.
I take a moment to relax on the ground when Grinder walks up. “There’s water over by the
bathroom. We’re going to go fill up. Can I take your containers?”
I squint at him in suspicion. “Really, dude?”
He shrugs. “What? You’ve been carrying extra for us for the last two days. Least I can do.”
 I squint again. “And?”
Grinder rolls his eyes. “And . . . It was a hard stretch coming downhill.”
“I’m fine, bro,” I tell him, then do a couple quick bicycle kicks. “Knee’s fine too. Stop bringing it
up, and maybe I’ll forget about it.”
Grinder groans, holding out his hand. “Just let me get your damn water.”
I roll over and pull out my reservoir and bottle. “Fine. More time to listen to my book. If I’m
asleep when you get back . . .”
“We’ll probably wake you,” Grinder says with a grin as he turns to follow Nova and Belle
toward the bathrooms.
Chuckling, I watch him go before popping in my earbuds and pressing play.
Twenty minutes later, the others return and start making dinner, but I’m too relaxed to join them.
Besides, the action in my book has picked up, and damn, this shit is getting good. Until I jolt upright,
about as abruptly as the book I’ve been listening to ends.
I look at my phone.
I look at it again.
Opening up my audiobook app, I look at it a third time.
The app is waiting for a review for the second book. The second of two books. The only two
books the app listed. So then . . . What the hell? That was not the end of a series. It was a to be
continued ending. I double check the release date. A year and a half ago. If there’s a third book, then
where the hell is it?
I check my signal. None. Fuck.
I open an app that shows available cell service. There’s supposed to be coverage farther up the
trail, but not close enough. Maybe if I walked around, I might find a blip? “Gotta crap,” I declare,
getting up from the tarp and heading for the concrete building.
I keep my phone open, searching for a signal. Any signal. On the far side of the bathroom where
the guys can’t see me, I wave my phone around like I’m looking for aliens. But it works, and I find a
blip. As fast as I can, I pull up Amazon and do a search. There it is. Book three. Released fourteen
months before the second audiobook. It doesn’t look like there’s a fourth book, so it must be the last
of the series. What the hell is going on here? Why isn’t the third book out? There’s an option to
purchase the ePub. I press the buy now button . . .
And lose the signal.
Fuck.
I wave my phone around, frantically searching for the lost signal, but I come up blank. I notice the
time. Crap. I’ve been out here too long to just be taking a dump.
Reluctantly, I shove my phone back in my pocket and head back to camp.
“Are you all right?” Grinder asks as I return.
“Yeah,” I mutter, flopping down on my tarp and tossing my phone on top of my bag. “Just a little
constipated. No worries.”
I grab my phone again. I could re-listen to the first two books, but damn it, I want to know how it
ends. No, I need to know how it ends. I glance over to where Belle and Nova are giggling over
something on her tablet. They’re going through photos for her research project. Should mean her
phone is free. I wonder if she’s got book three on it? If I could borrow it for a minute or two . . .
I pull out my stove and casually approach, dropping onto the bench next to Belle. I shouldn’t feel
nervous. I shouldn’t. I’ve faced off with some of the biggest, toughest athletes in college sports. A
five-foot-nothing, one-hundred-thirty pound geologist is nothing. So why do I feel like I’m about to
break out in a sweat? Probably because this could go terribly if she finds out . . .
No. Nope. She’s not going to find out. Not if I play this cool.
You just want to borrow her phone to read something she doesn’t know you’re reading.
“Hey, Bats,” Belle beams. “What’s up?”
Fuck. I’m sweating.
“Just finished my audiobook,” I tell her honestly enough. “Thought maybe I could borrow your
phone and try another?”
“Oh. Um, sure,” Belle says. She pulls her phone out of her pocket and holds it out for me. “Are
you okay? You look a little off.”
Crap. Does she know?
A bead of sweat dribbles down my forehead. That must be it. She sees the sweat. I swipe it
away. “It’s nothing,” I tell her, reaching for the phone.
She lets me take it, pointing out, “I’ve got one on plate tectonics. Might be of interest since we’re
heading higher into the Sierra Nevada. I can pull it up for you.”
“You’ve got your research to focus on. I’ll find it.”
I head back to my ground cloth, pretending to search my pack as I open her phone and find her
ePub reader. I open the library and scan the selections. Sure enough, there’s the series. Right there. I
tap it. The folder opens. Three books. All purchased. And all downloaded.
“Yes!”
I freeze as three sets of eyes swing my way. I reach into my bag, pulling out a packet and holding
it up. “It’s Thai curry night.”
I turn to dig out the rest, but when I move to get up, Belle is standing there, arms crossed, with a
dozen questions written on her face.
“Spill it,” she spits out.
“Excuse me?”
She glares at me. “Thai Curry? Really? Then why can I see a picture of ravioli on the front from
ten feet away?”
I turn the packet around. Shit. My eyes flick to Belle’s phone. She reaches down and takes it.
When she unlocks it, then her eyes go wide. Before I can open my mouth, I’m being dragged by the ear
out of camp like a disobedient child by a woman half my size. “Ow. Let go.”
Belle stops and spins on me, poking me in the chest with the phone. “Why the hell were you
looking at . . .” Belle stops short of naming the series. She doesn’t have to. Cards are on the table, so
to speak.
Yep. I’m screwed.
“My Kindle library,” she finishes. “You’re supposed to be listening to audiobooks about science.
Not . . . Not . . .”
This is not good. She’s so furious she can’t even form words. I’m about two seconds from getting
my ass kicked. It’ll be like an Italian mastiff being taken down by a chihuahua. Oh well. Might as well
lean into it. “A reverse harem romance?”
“Yes. That,” Belle shrieks. “How the hell did you go from Steven Hawking to . . . there?”
Defeated, I sigh, and tell her, “I tried. I really did. For the first two nights. But I just wasn’t
feeling it. I couldn’t follow along. All I know about physics is the bit about objects in motion staying
in motion.”
“An object at rest stays at rest and an object in motion stays in motion with the same speed and in
the same direction unless acted upon by an unbalanced force,” Belle recites. “Newton’s first law of
motion.”
“Yeah. That one. Only, in the locker room, our version was a runner in motion stays in motion
. . .” A devilish grin creeps across my face. “Until I hit him. Although I like that last bit about
unbalanced forces. A few of the guys on the team were unbalanced forces, if you catch my drift.”
Belle pinches the bridge of her nose as she tries to figure out how we got here. “Okay. But that
doesn’t explain anything.”
“I wanted it to work. It could have too. The volume was nice, the pace was good, but I just
couldn’t follow along.”
“No one can follow along,” Belle retorts. “It’s what makes him Steven Hawking.”
“Granted. But it left me frustrated. It’s hard to fall asleep when you’re frustrated. So, I thought I’d
try something else from your library. The take on Alice in Wonderland sounded interesting, so I
downloaded both books while we were at Big Bear, and I’ve been listening to them ever since.”
“Okay . . . But that’s almost twenty hours between the two books. If you’re only listening to
enough to fall asleep to, that should keep you going for a month. Maybe two.”
I look down and kick a rock. “I, um, got a little hooked. I’ve been listening almost as soon as
we’ve gotten into camp.” Her eyebrows lift in surprise. “What? It’s a good story.”
“I know. That’s why I got the audiobook.”
“Exactly. So . . . where’s the third book?” She blinks, confused by the question. “The third book.
It was released two and half years ago. Way before they did the audiobooks. So, where’s the third
audiobook? Why haven’t they released it?”
“It’s been recorded and submitted. But it hadn’t been released by the time I left. Wait. Is that what
you were looking for on my phone? The third book?” When I don’t answer, she takes my silence for
one instead. “Oh my god, you were! You really liked it, didn’t you?”
I shrug, looking anywhere but at her. This isn’t a conversation I was ready to have. “I didn’t
expect to be drawn in like that. The story’s well written and really grabs your attention.”
“Uh huh,” Belle says, smirking in a self-satisfied way not too dissimilar from Grinder. “The sexy
parts aren’t too bad either. Are they?”
If I thought I was uncomfortable before, having to talk about “sexy parts” with Belle is making
me squirm even more. “I wasn’t . . . opposed to those parts,” I hedge.
Belle giggles, handing her phone back to me. “Well then. You should really enjoy the third book.
Lots of good story.”
I nod, reaching out to take the phone. “Thanks. And, um, can you maybe not tell the guys?”
Belle gets a playful grin. “What? You don’t want them to know you’re reading sexy books?”
I return her grin. “Do you want Nova to know that you read sexy books? Or Grinder?”
Belle winces. “I get your point. Now come on. If we’re out here much longer, Nova’s going to
wonder what we’re up to.”
I laugh as we turn back toward camp. “Don’t worry. I’m sure Grinder is already suggesting all
kinds of things to him.”
Belle punches my arm. “I can still take my phone back. Besides, if you’re nice, I’ll let you listen
to another series on my phone.”
“Oh, yeah?”
A saucy grin curves her lips. “How do you feel about hockey players?”
Laughing as we walk back into our campsite, the light feeling vanishes as we walk in on Nova
and Grinder tearing through their bags. “Um, guys?”
Nova turns toward us with a worried expression. “How many dinners do you have?” Confused
by the question, I shrug. “You might want to count them, dude.”
Belle and I exchange confused looks before heading to our bags. Nova’s meaning becomes clear
a moment later. “Two. How far is Kennedy Meadows?”
“Fifty miles,” Grinder answers, dropping onto the bench at the picnic table. “Fuck. This is my
fault.” He pulls his phone out and unlocks it. “I can fix this.”
“Grinder . . .” Belle says.
Grinder keeps going. “I think there’s a bus into Onyx that stops along the highway.”
“Grinder . . .” Belle says again.
“We can get some more food there in the morning and then head out.”
With a huff, Belle rises from her pack, turns, and drops a half dozen packets of food on the table.
The three of us turn in surprise, because what the hell?
“We’re ahead of my original schedule,” Belle explains. “So, I have some extra. I’m a little light
on snacks thanks to the jerky thief.” I shrug. Not sorry. “But I have enough dinners and a couple of
extra energy bars.”
“I’ve got extra oatmeal and a few more bars as well,” I add.
Grinder sighs, the tension in his shoulders dropping. “Yeah. That should work. I’m sorry, guys. I
don’t know where I messed up.”
Belle opens her mouth to say something, but I beat her to it. “No worries. We’ve got enough food
to get to our next resupply point. This was a big stretch without a lot of wiggle room, but plans change
sometimes. We’re out here experiencing something most people never even think to try. Enjoy the
good parts and forget about the rest.”
Grinder nods, letting out a long breath. “You’re right. We might be running on empty by the time
we reach Kennedy, but we’ll get there.”
A hiker from the other group walks up, waving a bottle. “A trail angel just dropped off some
fresh snacks and two cases of beer. Do you guys want any?”
I nod as the others get up from the table. “Yeah. A drink sounds great. Thanks.”
 DAY 38
KENNEDY MEADOWS
1,962 MILES TO GO

Belle
“Hello, hot stuff,” I purr seductively, licking my lips. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Really, princess?” Grinder scoffs, but I ignore his attitude.
“Shh. I’m trying to enjoy this.”
Grinder rolls his eyes at me. “Is this what you’re like with Nova?”
Next to him, Nova smiles like a Cheshire cat. “Hell no. This is so much better.”
I shoot Nova a nasty glare. “Excuse me?”
Nova holds up his hands defensively. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not complaining. But right now, I
really wish I was that coffee mug.”
“Hmm. Is that so?” Lifting the mug, I take a long sip, savoring the hungry look in Nova’s eyes as
much as the coffee. Almost. Four mornings of instant coffee hasn’t been an adequate substitute for
Grinder’s blend. I make a show of licking each drop off my lips, moaning, “Delicious.”
“Not this again,” Grinder says with a sigh.
I shrug a shoulder as I take another sip. “If you wanted to keep me well-caffeinated, then you
shouldn’t have traded away the coffee.”
I brace for his comeback, but he just smirks, shaking his head as he lifts his own coffee mug to
his mouth. Not for the first time since Landers Meadow, I wonder why Grinder made that trade. Bats
had said it was the kind of thing Grinder does for his friends, but my gut seems to think there’s more
to it than just being a friend. A lot more. Then again, there’s the chance my gut is being influenced by
the minx in my head that still has delusions of foursomes.
Speaking of our fourth, Bats walks up to our table with a tray, placing it down between me and
Nova. I wiggle happily as I reach for the plate with blueberry pancakes and scrambled eggs.
“Forget something?” Grinder asks, staring at the tray.
“You’re welcome to grab the second tray,” Bats suggests. Grinder shakes his head, pulling his
phone out instead as Bats turns to head back to the pickup window.
“Are you getting a signal?” I ask. It was the first thing I checked when we reached the general
store in Kennedy Meadows. I miss Rachel’s voice, but there hadn’t been a single bar or service on
any of our phones.
“Nope,” Grinder says succinctly, his fingers tapping away at the screen. “Paying for the Wi-Fi.
There we go.” A few moments later, his relaxed expression sours.
“Daddy says hi?” Nova guesses when Grinder drops his phone in the middle of the table.
“I’ll look at it later,” Grinder growls, irritated.
Bats returns with the second tray. “Did I miss something?” he asks, taking in his quiet, brooding
friend.
“He got a love note from home,” Nova answers.
 Grinder sneers and grabs his breakfast.
“Ignore him,” Bats says, digging into his eggs.
Grinder snorts. “Have you ever tried to ignore my father? Hell, he’s probably already gotten an
alert that his message has been delivered. I’ve got maybe two hours to email him back. So, can we
enjoy our food before my day gets ruined?”
We settle into an almost meditative silence as we dig in, filling our stomachs for the first time in
three days after discovering how close we came to running out of food. We’d spent the last two days
traversing two wilderness areas. Owens Peak had been brutal on the legs the first day out of Walker
Pass, with steep climbs slowing us down. We ended up in a small campsite on the edge of a ridge
overlooking the valley formed by Spanish Needle Creek far below. It was barely large enough for
two tents, so we opted to throw down Bats’ tarp and collapse into a tired heap while we watched a
gorgeous sunset. Chimney Peak yesterday was a welcome change, with a single large but even climb
in the late morning. Which was about when the snacks ran out, save a few energy bars we held onto
for breakfast this morning. We hiked a full twelve hours yesterday, and might have tried to end up
here, but by the time we reached the slow-moving South Kern River, we had two hours of hiking
ahead of us with only an hour of light left. So we gave into the bubbling call of the river and called it
a day, claiming a sandy patch of ground near a spot deep enough to wade into and wipe off the dirt
and grime of the last few days.
When Grinder woke us up this morning, we faced a pretty simple choice. We could eat the last of
our oatmeal and take our time covering the last five miles to Kennedy Meadows, or we could “get
your asses up” and be there when the small restaurant attached to the store opened up for breakfast.
We each had an energy bar as we packed up quickly and headed up the trail, salivating over what
options might await us when we got there.
When I push my empty plate away and finish my third cup of coffee, I eye Grinder’s phone. “Can
I borrow your Wi-Fi?”
Grinder shrugs as he downs the last of his own coffee. “Why? Need to make your Instagram
post?”
“No. I was hoping to call Rachel. I haven’t talked to her since Agua Dulce, and I want to let her
know how we’re doing. And since there’s no cell service here . . .”
Grinder unlocks his phone and holds it out for me to take, flashing me a soft smile like it’s a
pleasure to let me use it. “Sure. We can all say hi.”
I’m about to argue I’d like to talk to her privately, because I can imagine the sort of innuendos
Rachel’s going to make, but the look on Grinder’s face tells me I’m not getting a private chat if I want
to use his phone. I suppress a wince and pray my bestie isn’t about to embarrass me. “Fine.” I send a
quick text to let her know the incoming call is from me, then find the FaceTime app and press call.
“Lizzy,” Rachel screams. “How’s your harem going?” Heads all over the outdoor patio turn my
way in curiosity.
I cringe and my cheeks flush with embarrassment, not wanting to know how many people heard
her question. Nova slides up next to me with a broad grin and wraps an arm around my shoulder.
“We’re great. Aren’t we, guys?”
Rachel’s eyes go wide. “You aren’t alone. Are you?”
“Nope,” I tell her. I turn the phone around to show her Bats and Grinder on the other side of the
table. “Say ‘hi,’ guys.”
 “Hey, Rachel,” Bats says, waving at the camera.
“Nice to meet you,” Grinder adds.
I turn the phone back around, happy to find Rachel flush with the same amount of embarrassment
as she caused me. “You could have warned me,” she chides.
I chuckle and point out, “You didn’t exactly give me time.”
“Guess not.” Rachel sighs. “I miss you, babe. It’s been too long.” Someone mutters something
off-screen. Rachel turns. “I know I have you, love. But I need my bestie too.”
“Is that Charles?” I ask.
“Yeah. He says ‘hi.’ So, where are you?”
“Kennedy Meadows for a supply stop. We’ll be heading up into the Sierra Nevada tomorrow.”
“Hmm. Let me see,” Rachel says, getting up and walking around our apartment. It looks like she
was in the living room and is heading into the kitchen. She scans something off-screen, her face
contorting in concentration. “Ah. Got it. Wait. Are you really that far ahead?”
Confused, I ask, “What are you looking at?”
“Your schedule. I posted it on the refrigerator. How did you get there so fast?”
I turn the phone to point at Grinder. He pauses mid-sip and shoots me a look that says, yeah, so?
“And which one are you?” Rachel asks.
“Grinder,” he says with a touch of annoyance.
“Oh, yeah. He looks like it.”
I whip the phone around before Grinder can open his mouth to respond. “Anyway,” I say, pulling
back a semblance of control over this conversation. “We’re good. Heading into an area where service
is going to suck. And you should probably bump the ship dates of my boxes up a week.”
“Will do,” Rachel replies, then turns her attention toward Nova. “Good to see you again. Are you
taking care of my girl?”
My core tingles and my stomach flutters at the thought of how Nova’s been taking care of me
since I last talked to Rachel. Beside me, he chuckles and winks. “You know it.”
Rachel is about to say something else when an alert pops up on the screen and a tone rings out. I
glance at Grinder, whose face twitches. “I’m guessing you already know who that’s from?” He lets
out a resigned sigh and nods. “Um, Rach. I better go. Good to talk to you. Love you.”
“Love you, too, Lizzy,” Rachel replies, blowing me kisses as I end the call and hand the phone
back to Grinder.
He takes the phone, stands, and leaves without a word.
“Dad?” Nova asks, and I nod, watching Grinder walk away from the commotion around the
building.
“We should find a spot now when most of the hikers are leaving,” Bats suggests.
Nova and I agree, and soon the three of us are circling the mostly empty field behind the store in
search of a spot to camp. About a dozen hikers are still here, taking a day off before heading up into
the mountains. We find an opening near some trees where Bats can hang his hammock.
Grinder hasn’t returned yet, and an uneasiness settles in my stomach. He’s been happier the last
two weeks since he told me his story back in Acton. About his rocky relationship with his father, and
the restrictive timeline he gave Grinder for this trip. I hope Grinder having to call home doesn’t send
him back to being the grumpy asshat we all put up with for the first three weeks of our trip.
“I need to use the restroom,” I tell Nova and Bats. “Too much coffee.”
 Nova laughs. “With you? No such thing.”
“We’ll look for a spot for our tents when you get back,” Bats says, and I give him a thumbs up as
I head back toward the building.
After peeing and washing up, because yes, even I can have too much coffee, I walk around the
building, listening for a familiar voice. An uneasy feeling is creeping up on me with every step until I
find him behind the store.
“Yes, sir,” Grinder says. “I understand, sir . . . Love you too. Give my best to Mom.”
Grinder hangs up, then stares at the phone clutched in his hand so tight his knuckles have gone
white. After a long moment, he tilts his head back and lets out a guttural scream full of anger and
frustration.
I should turn around. Head back to the guys. Let Grinder have a moment to collect himself.
Instead, I make my way toward him. “Hey.”
Grinder’s head snaps around, eyeing me with suspicion. “What are you doing back here, Belle?”
Looking for you, dumbass.
“I heard you scream. Is everything okay?”
Grinder huffs, like I’m the source of his annoyance. That uneasy feeling the old Grinder has
returned takes hold again. “It doesn’t concern you. Go back to camp.”
“Yes. It does concern me,” I say softly, creeping closer.
Grinder glares at me, but the heat is leaving his eyes and his breathing is regaining a deep, steady
rhythm. He rubs a hand across his face, which has become tired and ragged in the few minutes since
he left the table. “Go, Belle. Go back to camp. Leave me alone for a single damn minute. Everything
will be fine.”
“Grinder, please.” I inch closer, enough to reach for his hand, but I hesitate, uncertain if doing so
would help or make things worse. “After we talked in Acton, things were better. Right? Maybe I can
help again? Or I can just listen, if that’s what you need.”
Grinder rounds on me with an anger in his eyes I can’t decipher. Is he mad at me, his father, or
maybe himself? “You can’t fix this, princess. I’m not your problem to solve. So stop trying. You want
to make somebody happy? Go find Nova. I’m sure he’d love a blowjob. He’ll probably even return
the favor.”
I don’t have time to be shocked or outraged or disgusted before my hand is flying toward his
face. One second, he’s talking. The next, my palm stings, turning as red as his cheek. I don’t wince,
biting back the ouch I want to release. I won’t give him the satisfaction. Instead, I glower back at him,
matching the intensity in his eyes.
I reach back to slap him again, but this time he catches me, his hand wrapping around my wrist
with an iron grip. My pulse beats frantically beneath the rough swirls of his thumb. He yanks me into
him, the now familiar musky odor of Old Spice washing over me. Cinnamon, cedar, and citrus. The
fingers of his free hand grip my throat, lifting my gaze to meet his. His eyelids droop, partially hiding
the heat in his eyes. It’s not an angry look, and it’s certainly not in a loving or caressing way. More
like he’s trying to control me. Own me. His breathing is calm, but mine is hectic, pushing my breasts
into him with each breath and making my traitorous nipples harden. I want to pull back. I want to run.
But something keeps me rooted here, my gaze unflinching as I stare into eyes growing hotter by the
second.
“I let you have the first one, because yeah, that was an asshole thing to say,” he growls, deep and
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
 A GENERAL BIBLIOGRAPHY OF RUSSIAN
HISTORY

BASED ON THE WORKS QUOTED, CITED, OR

CONSULTED IN THE PREPARATION OF THE
PRESENT HISTORY; WITH CRITICAL AND
BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES

Anon., La guerre d’Orient en 1877-1878, par un tacticien, Paris,

1880; Tainy nashei gosudarstvennoi politiki v Polshye. Sbornik
sekretnykh dokumentov (The secrets of our governmental policy in
Poland. A collection of secret documents), London, 1899; Secret
Memoirs of the Court of St. Petersburg, particularly towards the end
of the reign of Catherine II and the commencement of that of Paul I
(translated from the French), London, 1895; The Persecution of the
Jews in Russia, published by the Russo-Jewish Committee, London,
1890; Russia, Its Industries and Trade (Official report prepared for
the Glasgow Exhibition), Glasgow, 1901; Erinnerungen eines
Dorfgeistlichen. Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der Leibeigenschaft und
ihrer Aufhebung. Aus dem russischen übertragen von M. Oettingen,
Stuttgart, 1894 (Bibliothek russischer Denkwürdigkeiten. Edited by
Th. Schiemann, vol. 5); An early news-sheet. The Russian Invasion
of Poland in 1563. An exact facsimile of a contemporary account in
Latin, published at Douay. Together with an introduction and
historical notes, and a full translation into English, London, 1874;
The French bulletins relating to the war in Russia, London, 1813;
Russia’s March Towards India, by an Indian officer, London, 1893, 2
vols.; Russia Before and After the War. By the author of “Society in
St. Petersburg,” etc. Translated from the German, with later additions
by the author, by E. F. Taylor, London and New York, 1880; Von
Nicolaus I zu Alexander III: St. Petersburger Beiträge zur neuesten
russischen Geschichte, Leipsic, 1881; Russisch-Baltische Blaetter,
Beiträge zur Kenntniss Russlands und seiner Grenzmarken, 4 vol.,
Leipzig, 1886-1888; Russland vor und nach dem Kriege; auch “Aus
der petersburger Gesellschaft,” Leipsic, 1879; Russland am
Scheidewege: Beiträge zur Kenntniss des Slawophilenthums, Berlin,
1888; Lose Blätter aus dem Geheim-Archive der russischen
Regierung; Ein aktenmässiger Beitrag zur neuesten Geschichte der
russischen Verwaltung und Beamten-Korruption, Leipsic, 1882.—
Abaza, V. A. Istorya Rossii (History of Russia), St. Petersburg, 1893.
—Abbott, J., Narrative of a Journey from Herat to Khiva, Moscow
and St. Petersburg, during the late Russian invasion of Khiva,
London, 1856, 2 vols.—Adam, Mme., Le général Skobélef, Paris,
1886.—Adelung, F. von, Kritisch-literarische Übersicht der
Reisenden in Russland bis 1700, St. Petersburg, 1846, 2 vols.—
Alexander II, Manifest (The proclamation of emancipation) printed
by the Senate, St. Petersburg, 1861.—Alison, A., History of Europe,
London and New York, 1849-1850, 14 vols.—Arnaud, C. A. de, The
New Era in Russia, Washington, 1890.—Arnheim, F., Der
ausserordentliche Finländische Landtag, Leipsic, 1900.—Avril, A. d’,
Négociations relatives au traité de Berlin et aux arrangements qui
ont suivi, Paris, 1886.

Bain, R. N., Charles XII and the Collapse of the Swedish empire
(Heroes of the Nations series) New York, 1895; The Pupils of Peter
the Great. A History of the Russian Court and Empire from 1697 to
1740, Westminster, 1897; The Daughter of Peter the Great. A
History of Russian Diplomacy and of the Russian Court under the
Empress Elizabeth Petrovna (1741-1762), Westminster, 1899.—
Bakunin, A., M. Herzen, and others, Sozial-politischer Briefwechsel.
Mit einer biographischen Einleitung von M. Dragomanov. Autorisirte
Übersetzung aus dem russischen von B. Minzer, Stuttgart, 1895.
(Bibliothek russischer Denkwürdigkeiten, vol. 6).—Bantysh-
Kamenski, D. N. Istorya maloi Rossii (History of Little Russia)
Moscow, 1842.
Bantysh-Kamenski was born in Moscow in 1788. Between 1825
and 1828 he was governor of Tobolsk, and from 1836 to 1838,
governor of Vilna. After that he was engaged in the ministry of the
interior. He died at St. Petersburg in 1850. Besides his “History of
Little Russia,” which is to this day the only complete history in this
department, he also wrote a biographical dictionary and the lives of a
number of Russian statesmen and commanders.
Bantysh-Kamenski, N., Diplomatitcheskoe sobranie dyel mezhdu
Rossiiskim i Kitaiskim gosudarstvom s 1619 po 1792 god (a
collection of diplomatic papers between the Russian and Chinese
empires from 1619 to 1792) Kazan, 1882; Obzor vnyeshnikh
snoshenyi Rossii po 1800 g (a review of the foreign relations of
Russia up to the year 1800, Courland, Livonia, Esthonia, Poland,
and Portugal), Moscow, 1897.—Bell, R., Russia (Cabinet
Cyclopædia series), London, 1836, 3 vol.—Bernhardi, T. von,
Geschichte Russlands und der europäischen Politik in den Jahren
1814-1831, Leipsic, 1868-1878, 3 vols.—Bestuzhev-Riumin, K. N.,
Russkaya istorya (Russian history) St. Petersburg, 1872, 2 vol.
Konstantin Nikelaievitch Bestuzhev-Riumin was born in 1829.
From 1865 to 1882 he was a professor at the university of St.
Petersburg. Besides the History, he has been the author of a number
of monographs. His method is thorough, painstaking, and minute. He
insists on a many-sided study of the national life, and of the
exclusion of all philosophical or general theories, and devotes much
more space to internal than to external history, paying special
attention to forms of family life, political organisation, law, religion,
and literature. The introductory chapters give a valuable account of
the source and authorities of Russian history. At his death, in 1897,
he left his History a torso. It was translated into German by Dr.
Schiemann (Mitau, 1873-1875).
Beveridge, A. J., The Russian Advance, New York, 1903.—
Bigelow, P., The German Emperor and his Eastern Neighbors, New
York, 1892.—Bilbassov, V. A., Istorya Ekateriny II (History of
Catherine II), London, 1895, 2 vols.—Bilbassov, B., Katherina II,
Kaiserin von Russland, im Urtheile der Weltlitteratur. Übersetzt aus
dem russischen mit einem Vorwort von T. Schiemann, Berlin, 1897, 2
vols.; Geschichte Katharina II. Übersetzt aus dem russischen von M.
von Petzold, Berlin, 1893, 2 vols.—Bodenstedt, F. von, Die Völker
des Kaukasus und ihre Freiheitskämpfe gegen die Russen, Berlin,
1855, 2 vols.—Bogdanovitch, M. I., Istorya tsarstvovanya
imperatora Alexandra I i Rossii v yevo vremya (History of the reign of
Alexander I and of Russia during his time) St. Petersburg, 1869-
1871, 6 vols.—Bond, E. A., Russia at the Close of the 16th Century;
comprising the treatise “Of the Russ Commonwealth,” by G.
Fletcher, and the travels of Sir J. Horsey (Hakluyt Society
Publications, vol. 20), London, 1856.—Bookwalter, J. W., Siberia
and Central Asia, New York, 1899.—Boulger, D. C., England and
Russia in Central Asia, London, 1873, 5 vols.—Brodhead, J. M. N.,
Slav and Moslem: historical sketches, Charleston, S. C., 1894.—
Brooks, C. W. S., Russians of the South, London, 1854.—
Browning, O., Charles XII of Sweden, London, 1899.—Brueckner,
A. Finanzgeschichtliche Studien: Kupfergeldkrisen, St. Petersburg,
1867; Kulturhistorische Studien: die Russen im Ausland: die
Ausländer in Russland im 17. Jahrhundert, Riga, 1878; Ivan
Possoschkow: Ideen und Zustände in Russland zur Zeit Peters des
Grossen, Leipsic, 1878; Peter der Grosse, in Oncken’s Allgemeine
Geschichte in Einzeldarstellungen, Berlin, 1879; Der Zarewitsch
Alexei, Heidelberg, 1880; Katharina II, in Oncken’s Weltgeschichte in
Einzeldarstelungen, Berlin, 1883; Istorya Yekateriny II (History of
Catherine II), St. Petersburg, 1885, 3 vols.; Bilder aus Russlands
Vergangenheit, Leipsic, 1887; Beiträge zur Kulturgeschichte
Russlands im 17. Jahrhundert, Leipsic, 1887; Die Europäisierung
Russlands, Gotha, 1888; Geschichte Russlands: Überblick der
Entwicklung bis zum Tode Peters des Grossen, in Geschichte der
europäischen Staaten, Gotha, 1896.
Alexander Brueckner was born August 5, 1834, at St. Petersburg.
After engaging for six years in business, he turned his attention to
the study of history, which he pursued at Heidelberg, Jena, and
Berlin. After returning to St. Petersburg he became professor of
history at the Imperial School of law, in 1867 professor at the
university of Odessa, and in 1872 at Dorpat. Owing to his German
origin, he was removed in 1891 from Dorpat and transferred to the
university of Kazan, but at his request he was permitted to settle at
Jena. Brueckner is, like Schiemann and Eckhardt, a German-
Russian, and as such has a special qualification for the presentation
of Russian history to a West-European audience. He has written
numerous works both in Russian and in German, and takes rank
with the foremost historians of Russia.
Brueggen, E. von der, Polens Auflösung, Leipsic, 1878; Wie
Russland europäisch wurde, Leipsic, 1885.—Bunge, F. G. von,
Geschichtliche Entwicklung der Standesverhältnisse in Livonia,
Esthonia, und Kurland bis 1561, Dorpat, 1838; der Orden der
Schwertbrüder, Leipsic, 1875.—Burtsev, V., and S. M.
Kravtchinski, Za sto lyet (1800-1896). Sbornik po istorii
polititcheskikh i obshtchestvennikh dvizhenyi v Rossii (One hundred
years. Documents Relating to the History of Political and Social
Movements in Russia), London, 1897.—Buturlin, Knyaz D. P.,
Histoire militaire de la campagne de Russia en 1812, Paris, 1824, 2
vols.

Cary, C., The Trans-Siberian Route, New York, 1902.—Catherine

II, empress of Russia, Memoirs of the Empress Catherine II, written
by herself, with a preface by A. Herzen, translated from the French,
New York, 1859.—Celestin, Fr. J., Russland seit Aufhebung der
Leibeigenschaft, Laibach, 1875.—Choiseul-Gouffier, (Tisenhaus),
comtesse de, Historical Memoirs of the Emperor Alexander I and the
Court of Russia. Translated by M. B. Patterson, Chicago, 1901.—
Colquhoun, A. R., Russia against India: The Struggle for Asia, New
York, 1900.—Coxe, W., An Account of the Russian Discoveries
between Asia and America: added, The Conquest of Siberia, and the
history of the transactions and commerce between Russia and
China, London, 1803.—Crusenstolpe, M. I. von, Der russische Hof
von Peter I bis auf Nikolaus I, Hamburg, 1855-1859.—Curzon, G.
N., Russia in Central Asia in 1889 and the Anglo-Russian Question,
London, 1889; Persia and the Persian Question, London, 1892;
Problems of the Far-East: Japan, Corea, China, London, 1894; The
Pamirs and the Source of the Oxus, London, 1896.—Custine, le
marquis de, La Russie en 1839, Paris, 1844, 4 vols.

Danilevski, N. Y., Rossiya i Evropa: Vzgliad na kulturnyia i

polititcheskyia otnoshenya slavianskavo mira k germano-
romanskomu (Russia and Europe: a glance at the cultural and
political relations of the Slav world to the German-Romance world),
St. Petersburg, 1895.—Day, W. A., The Russian Government in
Poland. With a narrative of the Polish insurrection in 1863, London,
1867.—De la Gorce, P., Histoire du second Empire, Paris, 1894, 4
vols.—Delord, T., Histoire du second Empire, Paris, 1868-1875, 6
vols.—Deutsch, L. G., Sixteen Years in Siberia, New York, 1903.—
De Windt, H., Finland as It Is, London, 1901.—Drage, G., Russian
Affairs, New York, 1904.—Dubrovin, N. F., Pugatchev i yevo
soobshtchniki (Pugatchev and his accomplices), St. Petersburg,
1884, 3 vols.; Prisoedinenie Krima k Rossii (The annexation of the
Crimea to Russia), St. Petersburg, 1885-1889, 4 vols.—Duggan, S.
P. H., The Eastern Question: A Study in Diplomacy (Columbia
studies in history, economics, and public law), New York, 1902.

Eckardt, J., Jungrussisch und Altlivländisch. Politische und

culturgeschichtliche Aufsätze, Leipsic, 1871; Distinguished persons
in Russian society (translated from the Author’s Aus der
Petersburger Gesellschaft), London, 1873; Aus der Petersburger
Gesellschaft, 5th edition, Leipsic, 1880; Neue Folge, Leipsic, 1881;
Von Nikolaus I zu Alexander III, Leipsic, 1881; Russische
Wandlungen. Neue Beiträge zur russischen Geschichte von Nikolaus
I zu Alexander III, Leipsic, 1882.
 Julius von Eckhardt was born August 1, 1836, at Wolmar in
Livonia. From 1860 to 1867 he was the secretary of the Evangelical-
Lutheran Consistory at Riga, one of the editors of the Riga Zeitung,
and an active member of the Liberal-German party in the Baltic
provinces of Russia. After the leaders of this party had been
removed from their offices on account of their Germanising
tendencies, Eckardt emigrated to Germany, where he was active first
as a journalist, then as secretary of the Hamburg senate, and finally
as German consul at Tunis, Marseilles and Stockholm. Eckardt was
the author of numerous works and pamphlets, many of which were
published anonymously, on Russian, Baltic, and German affairs. He
was less an historian than a publicist and politician; but he had an
intimate knowledge of the Russia of his own day, the Russia of
Alexander II and Alexander III, and his works are indispensable for
an understanding of Russian parties and the vacillations of Russian
public opinion. His own point of view is that of a conservative liberal.
Edwards, H. D., Russian Projects against India, London, 1885.—
Engelmann, J., Peter der Grosse, seine Jugend und seine
Reformen, Dorpat, 1872; Die Leibeigenschaft in Russland, Leipsic,
1884; Das Staatsrecht Russlands, in Marquardsen’s Handbuch des
öffentlichen Rechts, vol. 4, Freiburg, 1888.—Engels, F., Die
auswärtige Politik des russischen Zarenthums, in Neue Zeit,
Stuttgart, 1890.

Favre, L., Histoire de la guerre entre la Russie et la Turquie, Niort,

1879.—Fenton, F. de, La Russie dans l’Asie-Mineure; ou,
Campagnes du Maréchal Paskewitch en 1828 et 1829, Paris, 1840.
—Ferrand, A. de, Les trois démembrements de la Pologne, Paris,
1865, 3 vols.—Fischer, I. E., Sibirskaya istorya s samavo otkrytya
(A history of Siberia from its discovery), St. Petersburg, 1774.—
Fisher, J. R., Finland and the Tsars, London, 1899.—Flerovski, N.,
Tri polititcheskya sistemy: Nikolai I, Alexander II, Alexander III,
(Three political systems: Nicholas I, Alexander II, Alexander III),
Geneva, 1897, (German translation, Berlin, 1898).—Foster-Fraser,
J., The Real Siberia, London, 1902.—Foulke, W. D., Slav or Saxon:
A Study of the Growth and Tendencies of Russian Civilisation, New
York, 1887.—Fowler, G., History of the War between Turkey and
Russia to the End of 1854, London, 1855.—Fraehn, C. M., Ibn
Fosslans und anderer Araber Berichte über die Russen älterer Zeit,
St. Petersburg, 1823.—Fraser, J. F., The Real Siberia; with an
account of a dash through Manchuria, New York, 1902.—Frederica,
Sophia Wilhelmina, Princess Royal of Russia, Memoirs, London,
1812, 2 vols.

Galakhov, A. D., Istorya russkoi slovesnosti (History of Russian

literature), Moscow, 1894, 2 vols.—Galitsyne, A., Le faux Pierre III,
trad. de Pouchkine, Paris, 1858.—George, H. B., Napoleon’s
Invasion of Russia, New York, 1899.—Gerebtzov, N. de, Essai sur
l’histoire de la civilisation en Russie, Paris, 1858, 2 vols.—Gerrare,
W., The Story of Moscow (Mediæval Towns series), London, 1900;
Greater Russia, London, 1903.—Gogol, N. V., Home Life in Russia,
by a Russian noble; revised by the editor of “Revelations in Siberia,”
London, 1854, 2 vols.—Golovin, Knyas I, Russia under the Autocrat
Nicholas I, London, 1846, 2 vols.—Gossip, R., History of Russia,
London, 1800.—Grigorev, V. V., Rossya i Azya, Sbornik
izslyedovanyi i statey po istorii, etnografii i geografii (Russia and
Asia. Researches in history, ethnography, and geography), St.
Petersburg, 1876.—Grodekov, N. G., A Ride from Samarcand to
Herat, translated by C. Marvin, London, 1885.—Gurowski, A.,
Russia As It Is, New York, 1854.

Hagemeister, I. A., Rozyskanya o finansakh drevney Rossii

(Investigations concerning the finances of ancient Russia), St.
Petersburg, 1833.—Hakluyt, R., Discovery of Muscovy (Cassel’s
Nat. Lib.)—Hamley, E. R., The Story of the Campaign: a complete
narrative of the war in southern Russia. Written in a tent in the
Crimea, Boston, 1855.—Hanna, H. B., Indian Problems,
Westminster, 1895-1896, 3 vols.—Hare, A. J. C., Studies in Russia,
London, 1885.—Haumant, E., La guerre du Nord (1655-1660),
Paris, 1893.—Haxthausen, A. von, Studien über die inneren
Zustände, das Volksleben, und insbesondere die ländlichen
Einrichtungen Russlands, Hanover, 1847-1852, 3 vols.; Die
Kriegsmacht Russlands, Berlin, 1852; Transcaucasia: sketches of
the nations and races between the Black Sea and the Caspian,
translated by J. E. Taylor, London, 1854; Tribes of the Caucasus:
with an account of Schamyl and the Murids, translated by J. E.
Taylor, London, 1855; Transkaukasia, Leipsic, 1856, 2 vols.; The
Russian Empire, Its People, Institutions and Resources, translated
by R. Farie, London, 1856, 2 vols.; Die ländliche Verfassung
Russlands, Leipsic, 1866.
Baron August von Haxthausen was born on his father’s estate
near Paderborn in Westphalia, February 3, 1792. He studied in a
mining school and took part in the War of Liberation, 1813-1815. His
life was mainly devoted to the study of agrarian conditions in eastern
Prussia and in Russia. His researches in the latter country were
undertaken at the request of Nicholas I, and he is generally regarded
as the discoverer of the mir or Russian village community. He died at
Hanover, January 1, 1867.
Hedin, Sven, Through Asia, New York, 1899, 2 vols.—Hehn, V.,
De moribus Ruthenorum. Zur Charakteristik der russischen
Volksseele. Edited by Th. Schiemann, Stuttgart, 1892.—Hellwald, F.
A. H. von, The Russians in Central Asia, translated from the German
by Theo. Wirgman, London, 1874.—Herzen, A. I., Die russische
Verschwörung und der Aufstand vom 14. Dezember 1825, Hamburg,
1858; Russlands soziale Zustände. Aus dem russischen, Hamburg,
1854; Du développement des idées révolutionnaires en Russie, par
A. Iscander (pseud), Paris, 1851; Le monde russe et la révolution;
mémoires, 1812-1835, traduits par H. Delaveau, Paris, 1860-1862, 3
vols.—Himmelstjerna, S. H. von, Russland unter Alexander III.,
Leipsic, 1891, English translation, Russia under Alexander III., and in
the preceding period, New York, 1893; Verlumpung der Bauern und
des Adels in Russland, nach G. I. Uspensky und A. N. Terpigoriew,
Leipsic, 1892.—Historischer Atlas von Russland, Polen, etc.,
vom Jahre 1155 bis zum Jahre 1816, Leipsic, 1817.—Holland, Th.
E., A Lecture on the Treaty Relations of Russia and Turkey from
1774 to 1853, London, 1877.—Hourwich, I. A., The Economics of
the Russian Village (Columbia studies in history, economics, and
public law), New York, 1892.—Howard, B., Prisoners of Russia: a
personal study of convict life in Sakhalin and Siberia, New York,
1902.—Howorth, H. H., History of the Mongols from the Ninth to the
Nineteenth Century, London, 1876-1880, 4 vols.

Ignatovitch, I., Pomyeshtchitchi krestyane nakanune

osvobozhdenya (Proprietor’s peasants on the eve of emancipation),
in “Russkoe Bogatstvo,” 1900.—Ilovaiski, D. I., Istorya Rossii
(History of Russia), Moscow, 1876-1890, 3 vols.; Smutnoe vremya
moskocskavo gosudarstva (The Troublous Period in the Muscovite
Empire), Moscow, 1894.—Ivanin, M. L., O voyennom iskustvye i
zavoevanyakh Mongolo-Tatar i srednyeazyatskikh narodov pri
Tchingis Khanye i Tammerlanye, (The Art of War and the Conquests
of the Mongol-Tatars and Central-Asian peoples under Jenghiz Khan
and Tamerlane), St. Petersburg, 1875.

Jauffret, P. E., Catherine II., et son règne, Paris, 1860.

Kapnist, J., Code d’organisation judiciaire russe, Paris, 1893.—

Karamzin, N. M., Istorya gosudarstva rossiiskavo (History of the
Russian Empire), St. Petersburg, 1818-1829, 12 vols.
Nikolai Mikhailovitch Karamzin was born December 12, 1765, at
the village of Mikhailovka, in the government of Orenburg, and died
June 3, 1826, at Tsarskoi Selo. His first literary efforts consisted of
translations of essays and poems from foreign languages. In 1789
he undertook a journey to Germany, France, Switzerland and
England, the literary result of which was his Letters of a Russian
Traveller, elegant, poetical and sentimental. These letters were first
published in the Moscow Journal, of which he was the founder, and
which he edited in 1791-1792. In the same periodical also appeared
some of his original stories, one of which treats of the fall of
Novgorod. From 1794 to 1799 he published a number of
miscellanies, Aglaia, The Aonides, and the Pantheon, containing
original as well as translated matter. In 1802-1803 Karamzin edited
the European Messenger, destined to become one of the most
important Russian reviews, and of which he was the founder. He
then turned to the work of his life, the great History of the Russian
Empire, which was to occupy him till his death. In this last enterprise
he was aided and encouraged by the emperor Alexander I, who
contributed 60,000 rubles to the cost of publication. The history
terminates at the accession of Michael Romanov in 1613.
Karamzin’s work is the first great Russian history. Its style is elegant
and flowing, its erudition large and solid, and it abounds in curious
information. It is owing to these qualities that the book still maintains
its place, although much of it has by this time become obsolete. The
book is especially strong in description of battles and analysis of
character. Its spirit is frankly reactionary. The barbarism of early
Russia is glossed over by a glittering veil of romanticism, the
material, intellectual and moral condition of the Russian people is
almost entirely ignored, and the book has been styled the “epic of
despotism.” A French translation appeared at Paris in 1819-1820,
and a German one at Leipsic in 1820-1833.
Kelly, W. K., History of Russia, London, 1854, 2 vols.—Kennan,
G., Tent Life in Siberia, and Adventures Among the Koraks and
Other Tribes in Kamtchatka and Northern Asia, New York, 1870;
Siberia and the Exile System, New York, 1891, 2 vols.—Kinglake, A.
W., The Invasion of the Crimea, London, 1863-1887, 8 vols.—
Klaczko, J., Études de diplomatie contemporaine (1861-1864),
Paris, 1866; Deux chanceliers (Gortchakov and Bismarck), Paris,
1877.—Kleinschmidt, A., Drei Jahrhunderte russischer Geschichte
(1598-1898), Berlin, 1898.—Knorr, E., Die polnischen Aufstände
seit 1830, Berlin, 1880.—Kohl, J. G., Russia: Travels, London, 1842.
—Kostomarov, N. I., Istoritcheskya monografii i izslyedovanya
(Historical Monographs and Researches), St. Petersburg, 1863-
1867, 3 vols.; Russkaya istorya v zhiznye opisanyakh yeya
glavnyeisliikh dyeiyatelyei (Russian History in the Biographies of its
Chief Actors), St. Petersburg, 1892-1896, 4 vols.; Smutnoe vremya
moskovskavo gosudarstva v natchalye XVII. stolyetya (The
Troublous Period in the Muscovite Empire at the Beginning of the
Seventeenth Century), St. Petersburg, 1868; Poslyednie gody
ryetchi-pospolitoi (The Last Years of the Polish Republic), St.
Petersburg, 1870; Predanya pervonatchalnoi russkoi lyetopisi (The
Traditions of the Earliest Russian Chronicles), St. Petersburg, 1881;
Bogdan Khmelnitski: istoritcheskaya monografia (Bogdan
Khmelnitsky: an Historical Monograph), St. Petersburg, 1884, 3
vols.; Syevernorusskie narodopravstva vo vremya udyelno-
vyetchevovo uklada (Popular Rights in Northern Russia During the
Period of Appanages and Republics. The History of Novgorod,
Pskov, and Vyatka), St. Petersburg, 1886, 2 vols.; Otcherk
domashney zhizni i nravov velikorusskavo Naroda v 16. i 17. stolyetii
i starinnye zemskie sbory (A Sketch of the Domestic Life and
Manners of the Great-Russians in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth
Centuries; and the Ancient Provincial Assemblies), St. Petersburg,
1887; Otcherk torgovli moskovskavo gosudarstva v 16. i 17.
stolyetyakh (A Sketch of the Commerce of the Muscovite Empire
During the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries), St. Petersburg,
1889.
Nikolai Ivanovitch Kostomarov was born May 4th, 1817, at
Ostrogosh, in the government of Voronezh. In 1846 he was
appointed to a professorship of history in the university of Kiev.
Owing to his activity for the reviving of Little Russian literature he
was accused of harbouring separatist tendencies, arrested,
imprisoned for a whole year, and then banished to Saratov and
forbidden to teach or publish his writings. On the accession of
Alexander II he was pardoned, and in 1859 he was appointed
professor of history at the university of St. Petersburg. But in 1862,
when the university was closed in consequence of students’
disorders, he resigned his post, and henceforth devoted himself
exclusively to writing. He died at St. Petersburg, April 19th, 1885. His
poetical works, which were written in the Little Russian dialect under
the nom de plume of Jeremiah Halka, were published collectively at
Odessa, 1875. Some of them have been translated into German. As
an historian Kostomarov occupies a very high place in Russian
literature. His work has assumed the form of monographs, owing to
his idea that Russian history cannot be understood without an
exhaustive study of the numerous ethnological elements and the
separate territorial divisions of which the Russian empire is
composed. In his own words, “the Russian empire represents an
integration of parts that once led an independent existence, and for a
considerable time after unification the life of the parts expressed
itself in separate tendencies within the general political structure. To
discover and disclose these peculiarities of national life in the
divisions that make up the Russian empire, was the problem I set
before myself in my historical labours.” The justification of this view
lies in the comparative recency of the Russian empire, its weakness
in the assumption that the national or provincial character is
unchangeable and immobile. Kostomarov had at his command a
vigorous, dramatic style and a lively imagination, and his books
contributed greatly toward the popularisation of historical studies in
Russia: but he was also possessed in a high degree of the critical
faculty, and more than one historical legend has been demolished in
his pages. His “Russian History in Biographies” was translated into
German and published at Leipsic, 1886-1889.
Kovalevski, M., Modern Customs and Ancient Laws of Russia,
London, 1891; Le Régime économique de la Russie, Paris, 1896;
L’Agriculture en Russie, Paris, 1897; Russian Political Institutions,
Chicago, 1902.
Maxim Kovalevski was born at Kharkov in 1851, of a rich and
noble family that is remarkable for the number of men—and one
woman—of science it has given to Russia. He studied at Berlin,
Paris, and London, and in 1877-1887 he was professor of
comparative law at the university of Moscow. Owing to his liberal
views he was compelled to give up his position. Since then he has
settled at Paris, where he has collected a valuable library, and
lectured at various seats of learning in Europe and America—
Stockholm, Oxford, Brussels, Chicago. He has written numerous and
important works on the history of Russia, France, England, the
Caucasus, etc., and is a recognised authority in the departments of
pre-history, public and private law, and economic history.
Koyalovitch, M. I., Dnyevnik poslyednyavo pokhoda Stefana
Batorya na Rossiyu, 1581-1582. Osada Pskova (A diary of the last
campaign of Stephen Batory against Russia in 1581-1582. The siege
of Pskov), St. Petersburg, 1867; Tchtenya po istorii zapadnoi Rossii
(Lectures on the history of Southern Russia), St. Petersburg, 1884.
—Kravchinski, S. M., (Stepniak). The Russian Peasantry: Their
Origin, Condition, Social Life and Religion, London, 1888, 2 vols.—
Kropotkin, P. A., Memoirs of a Revolutionist, Boston, 1899.—
Kulish, P. A., Istorya vozsoedinenya Rusi (A history of the unification
of Russia), St. Petersburg, 1874.—Kunik, E., Die Berufung der
schwedischen Rodsen durch die Finnen und Slawen, St. Petersburg,
1844-1845.—Kuropatkin, Gen. A. N., Les confins anglo-russe,
translated by G. Le Marchand, Paris, 1879; Kashgaria, translated by
Col. W. E. Gore, Calcutta, 1882; Kritische Rückblicke auf den
russisch-türkischen Krieg 1877-1878, Berlin, 1885-1890, 3 vols.
Alexei Nikolaievitch Kuropatkin was born March 29, 1848. In 1866
he joined the army of Turkestan as a lieutenant, served with
distinction in the expedition of General Kaufman in 1867-1868, was
sent at the head of a diplomatic-military mission to the emir of
Kashgar, and studied in 1872-1874 at the academy of the general
staff. He joined the French army in Algeria as a volunteer, was active
on his return in Turkestan, and then became chief of the Asiatic
section of the general staff. In 1877-1878 he was chief of General
Skobelev’s staff, under whom he also served in the campaign
against the Akhal-Tekke Turkomans, 1880-1881. In 1890 he became
a lieutenant-general and governor of the Transcaspian territory, and
later minister of war.
He is the author of two important works on the last Russo-Turkish
War, which have been translated into French and German, and of a
book of travels on Kashgar.

Labensky, A., A Russian’s Reply to the Marquis de Custine’s

“Russia in 1839,” London, 1844.—Laferté, V., Alexander II: Détails
inédits sur sa vie intime et sa mort, Paris, 1882.—Lamartine, A. de,
Histoire de la Russie, Paris, 1855, 2 vols.—Lansdell, H., Russian
Central Asia, including Kuldja, Bokhara, Khiva and Merv, Boston,
1885.—Latham, R. G., Native Races of the Russian Empire,
London, 1854; Russian and Turk, from a Geographical, Ethnological
and Historical Point of View, London, 1878.—Latimer, Mrs. W. E.,
Russia and Turkey in the Nineteenth Century, Chicago, 1893.—
Leger, L., Cyrille et Méthode, étude historique sur la conversion de
Slaves au christianisme, Paris, 1868; De Nestore rerum russicarum
scriptore, Paris, 1868; Traduction de la chronique de Nestor, Paris,
1884.—Lehmann, C. and Parvus (pseud.), Das hungernde
Russland, Stuttgart, 1900.—Lemke, M., Otcherki po istorii tsenzuri
(Studies in the History of the Russian Censorship), in “Russkoe
Bogatstvo,” 1903.—Leonov, R., Documents secrets de la politique
russe en Orient (1888-1890), Berlin, 1893.—Leroy-Beaulieu, A.,
L’empire des Tsars et les Russes, Paris, 1881-1889, 3 vols.; Un
homme d’état russe: Nicolas Milutin, Paris, 1884; La France, La
Russie et l’Europe, Paris, 1888; Israël chez les nations, Paris, 1893.
Anatole Leroy-Beaulieu was born in 1842 at Lisieux. Since 1881
he has been professor of modern history at the école libre de
sciences politiques in Paris. His chief work, “L’empire des Tsars et
les Russes,” is one of the most important works on Russia ever
published in western Europe. The first two volumes treat of the
geography, ethnology, and the economic and political institutions,
while the third is devoted to a study of the Russian church and the
sects.
Leroy-Beaulieu, P., The Awakening of the East: Siberia, Japan,
China, New York, 1900.—Lestrade, Combes de, La Russie
économique et sociale, Paris, 1896.—Lessar, P., La Russie et
l’Angleterre dans l’Asie centrale, Paris, 1886.—Lévesque, P. C.,
Histoire de Russie, Yverdun, 1782, 8 vols., Paris, 1812, 4 vols.—
Livov, G., Michel Katkoffet son époque: quelque pages d’histoire
contemporaine en Russie (1855-1887), Paris, 1897.—Loris-
Melikov, M. T. T., Konstitutsya grafa Lorisa-Melikova (The
Constitution of Count Loris-Melikov), London, 1893.—Lyaskoronski,
V., Istorya Pereyaslovskoi zemli s drevneyshikh vremyon do
polovinny XIII stolyetya (A History of Pereyaslavl from the earliest
times to the middle of the thirteenth century), Kiev, 1897.

Maggiolo, A. de, France et Russie; Pozzo di Borgo, 1764-1842,

Paris, 1890.—Maltsev, A., Die russische Kirche, Berlin, 1893.—
Manstein, Baron de, Memoirs of Russia 1727-1744, translated from
the original manuscript, London, 1773.—Martens, F. F., Étude
historique sur la politique russe dans la question d’Orient, Gand,
1877; Recueil de traités et conventions conclus par la Russie avec
les puissances étrangères, St. Petersburg, 1878-1889, 10 vols.;
Russia and England in Central Asia, London, 1879.—Martin, H.,
Histoire de France depuis 1789 jusqu’à nos jours, Paris, 2nd edition,
1878-1885, 8 vols.—Marvin, C., The Eye Witnesses’ Account of the
Disastrous Russian Campaign against the Akhal-Tekke Turkomans,
London, 1880; The Russian Advance Towards India: conversations
with Skobelev, Ignatiev, and other distinguished Russian generals
and statesmen, London, 1882; The Russians at Merv and Herat and
their Power of Invading India, London, 1883; The Russians at the
Gates of Herat, London and New York, 1885.—Marx, F., The Pacific
and the Amoor: Naval, military, and diplomatic operations from 1855
to 1861, London, 1861.—Marx, K., The Eastern Question: a reprint
of letters written 1853-1856 dealing with the events of the Crimean
War, London, 1897; Secret Diplomatic History of the Eighteenth
Century, London, 1899; Lord Palmerston, London, 1899.—Massa,
Isaac de Harlem, Histoire des guerres de Moscovie 1601-1611,
Brussels, 1876; Skazanya Massy i Herkmana o smutnom vremeni v
Rossii (The Accounts of Massa and Herkmann of the Troublous
Period in Russia), St. Petersburg, 1874.—Masson, C. F. P.,
Mémoires secrets sur la Russie pendant les regnes de Catherine II
et de Paul I, (in Bibliothèque des mémoires relatifs à l’histoire de
France pendant le 18ᵉ siècle, vol. 22), Paris, 1859.—Maxwell, J. S.,
The Czar, his Court and People, New York, 1849.—Mechlin, R., Das
Staatsrecht des Grossfürstenthums Finland, Freiburg, 1889.—
Mérimée, P., Les faux Démétrius, Paris, 1852; Épisode de l’histoire
de Russie, Paris, 1854; Les cosaques d’autrefois, Paris, 1865;
Mélanges historiques et littéraires, Paris, 1867; Portraits historiques
et littéraires, Paris, 1874.—Michelin, L. H. S., Finland in the
Nineteenth Century, Helsingfors, 1894.—Milukov, P. N., Glavnyia
tetchenya russkoi istoritcheskoi mysli (The Main Currents of Russian
Historical Thought), Moscow, 1898; Skizzen russischer
Kulturgeschichte. Deutsche vom Verfasser durchgesehene Ausgabe
von E. Davidson, Leipsic, 1898-1901, 2 vols.
Milukov was born in 1859. From 1886 to 1895 he taught at the
university of Moscow. But like so many other Russian professors of
history and social science, he came in conflict with the government,
and accepted a professorship at the university of Sofia, Bulgaria. He
is one of the ablest of the younger generation of Russian historians,
his method being the realistic or economic. During several years he
was a regular contributor of reviews on Russian literature to the
London Athenæum.
Milutin, D. A., Istorya voiny Rossii s Frantsieu v tsarstvovanie
imperatora Pavla I v 1799 g. (A History of the War Between Russia
and France During the Reign of the Emperor Paul I in the Year
1799), St. Petersburg, 1852-1853, 5 vols.
Dmitri Alexeievitch Milutin was born July 10, 1816, at Moscow. In
1833 he entered the army as lieutenant, then served in the army of
the Caucasus, in which he advanced in 1843 to the post of chief of
the commissariat department, and in 1856 to that of chief of the
general staff. In 1860 he became first adjutant to the war minister,
and in 1862 war minister. In this capacity he devoted himself toward
reorganising the army on a modern basis, and in 1874 he introduced
universal military service. The campaigns of 1877-1878 showed the
shortcomings as well as the improvements of the army under his
administration. In 1878 the title of count was conferred on him. In
1881 he was dismissed by Alexander III owing to his expressed
dissatisfaction with the reactionary, strictly absolutist manifesto of
May 11 of that year. He was the author of a number of works on
military history and science, and his history of Souvorov’s campaign
in Italy appeared in a German translation, at Munich, 1856-1858.
Moltke, H. C. B., The Russians in Bulgaria, in 1828-1829, London,
1854.—Monteith, W., Kars and Erzeroum: with the campaigns of
Prince Paskiewitch, London, 1856.—Morane, P., Finlande et
Caucase, Paris, 1900.—Morfill, W. R., Russia (Story of the Nations
series), New York, 1891; A History of Russia from the Birth of Peter
the Great to Nicholas II., New York, 1902.—Motley, J. L., Peter the
Great, London, 1887.—Munro, H. H., Rise of the Russian Empire,
Boston, 1900.
 Nagasee, H., Die Entwicklung der russischen und englischen
Politik Persien und Afghanistan betreffend bis 1838, Halle, A. S.
1894.—Nestor, Prepodobnavo Nestora rossiski lyetopisets (Holy
Nestor’s Russian Chronicle), St. Petersburg, 1767; La chronique de
Nestor, translation by Louis Paris, Paris, 1834, 2 vols.—Neuburger,
F., Russland unter Kaiser Alexander III., Berlin, 1895.—Nicolai, on
(pseud. of Danielson) Histoire de développment économique de la
Russie depuis l’abolition du servage, Paris, 1899; Die
Volkswirthschaft in Russland nach der Bauernemancipation.
Autorisierte Übersetzung aus dem russischen von Dr. G. Polansky,
Munich, 1899.—Nikitin, P., Istorya goroda Smolenska, (History of
the City of Smolensk), Moscow, 1848.—Nikitski, A., Otcherk
vnutrennei istorii Pskova (Outline of the Internal History of Pskov),
St. Petersburg, 1873.—Noble, E., The Russian Revolt: its causes,
condition and prospects, Boston, 1885; Russia and the Russians,
Boston, 1901.—Norman, H., All the Russias: travels and studies in
contemporary European Russia, Finland, Siberia, New York, 1902.—
Novikov, Mme. O. K., Skobelev and the Slavonic Cause, London,
1883; Russia and England from 1876 to 1880: a protest and an
appeal: with a preface by J. A. Froude, London, 1880.

O’Donovan, E., The Merv Oasis, London, 1882.—Ordega, V., Die

Gewerbepolitik Russlands von Peter I bis Katharina II, Tübingen,
1885.—Oxley, T. L., Character and Reign of Alexander II, London,
1881.

Palmer, F. H. E., Russian Life in Town and Country, New York,

1901.—Parmele, M. P., A Short History of Russia. New York, 1900.
—Pavlov, N. M., Russkaya istorya ot drevneyskikh vremyon
(Russian History from the Earliest Times, 862-1362), Moscow, 1896-
1899, 2 vols.—Pekarski, P. P., Nauka i literatura v Rossii pri Petrye
Velikom (Science and Literature in Russia at the Time of Peter the
Great), St. Petersburg, 1862, 2 vols.—Pember, A., Ivan the Terrible,
London, 1895.—Pfuel, E. von, Der Rückzug der Franzosen aus
Russland, Berlin, 1867.—Pierling, P., Rome et Démétrius, Paris,
1878; La Sorbonne et la Russie, Paris, 1882; Un Nonce du pape en
Moscovie: préliminaires de la trêve de 1582, Paris, 1884; La Saint-
Siège, la Pologne et Moscou (1582-1587), Paris, 1885; Bathory et
Possevino, Paris, 1887; Papes et Tsars (1547-1597), Paris, 1890; La
Russie et l’Orient: marriage d’un Tsar au Vatican, Ivan III et Sophie
Paléologue, Paris, 1891; L’Italie et la Russie au XVI siècle, Paris,
1892.—Pingaud, L., Les Français en Russie et les Russes en
France, Paris, 1886.—Pogodin, M. P., Izslyedovanya,
zamyetchanya i lektsii o russkoi istorii (Researches, Comments and
Lectures on Russian History), Moscow, 1846-1857, 7 vols.; Nestor:
eine historisch-kritische Untersuchung über den Anfang der
russischen Chroniken. Übersetzt von F. Loewe, (Beiträge zur
Kenntniss des russischen Reiches, vol. 10), St. Petersburg, 1884.—
Popowski, J., The Rival Powers in Central Asia, London, 1893.—
Porter, R. K., Narrative of the Campaign in Russia During the Year
1812, London, 1814.—Possevino, A., Antonii Possevini missio
moscovitica ex annuis litteris Societatis Jesu excerpta et
adnotationibus illustrata curante P. Pierling, Paris, 1882.—Pozzo Di
Borgo, Ch., Correspondance diplomatique du comte Pozzo di
Borgo, Paris, 1891.—Pyzyrewsky, A., Der polnisch-russische Krieg
von 1831, Wien, 1892-1893, 3 vols.

Rafn, K. C., Antiquités Russes, Copenhagen, 1850-1854, 3 vols.

—Ralston, W. R. S., The Songs of the Russian People, London,
1872; Russian Folk-tales, London, 1873; Early Russian History,
London, 1876.—Rambaud, La Russie épique, Paris, 1876;
Souvorof, (conférances de Saint-Cyr), Paris, 1889; Français et
Russes, Moscou et Sevastopol, Paris, 1892; L’armée du tsar
Alexandre III, in la Revue Bleue, November 10, 1894; Histoire de la
Russie, Paris, 1900; The Expansion of Russia: Problems of the East
and of the Far East, New York, 1904.
Alfred Nicolas Rambaud was born July 21st, 1842 at Besançon.
Appointed in 1864 a teacher at the lyceum of Nancy, he advanced
steadily until his appointment to a professorship in the university of
Paris in 1882. In 1896 he was minister of education in the Méline
cabinet. He is the author of many works on the history of France,
and in conjunction with Lavisse he is editing the “Histoire générale
du IVᵉ siècle jusqu’à nos jours.” His “History of Russia” is regarded
as the best of its kind that has ever been written by a West-
European.
Ravenstein, E. G., The Russians on the Amur; its discovery,
conquest, and colonisation and personal accounts of Russian
travellers, London, 1861.—Rawlinson, H. C., England and Russia in
the East; a series of papers on the political and geographical
condition of Central Asia, London, 1875.—Reinholdt, A. von,
Geschichte der russischen Litteratur von ihren Anfängen bis auf die
neueste Zeit, in Geschichte der Weltlitteratur in Einzeldarstellungen,
vol. 7, Leipsic, 1886.—Reinsch, P. S., World Politics at the End of
the Nineteenth Century, New York, 1900.—Rivière, Ch. de la,
Catherine II et la révolution française, Paris, 1895. Rocca, F. de, Les
assemblées politiques dans la Russie ancienne, Paris, 1899.—
Rozhkov, N., Gorod i derevnia v russkoi istorii: kratki otcherk
ekonomitcheskoi istorrii Rossii (City and village in Russian history; a
rapid survey of Russian economical history), in “Mir Bozhi,” 1902;
Obzor russkoi istorii s sotsiologitcheskoi totchki zryenya. Tchast
pervaya: Kievskaya Rus (A survey of Russian history from the
sociological point of view. Part first: Kievan Russia), in “Mir Bozhi,”
1903.—Rulhière, C. C. de, Révolution de Pologne, Paris, 1862, 3
vols.

Saraw, Chr. von, Die Feldzüge Karl’s XII, Leipsic, 1881.—

Schiemann, Th., Russland, Polen, und Livland bis im XVII.
Jahrhundert, in Oncken’s Allgemeine Geschichte in
Einzeldarstellungen, Berlin, 1886-1887, 2 vols.; Die Ermordung
Pauls und die Thronbesteigung Nikolaus I: neue Materialien
veröffentlicht und eingeleitet, Berlin, 1902.—Schlözer, K. von,
Russlands älteste Beziehungen zu Skandinavien und
Konstantinopel, Berlin, 1847.—Schmucker, S. M., Memoirs of the
Court and Reign of Catherine the Second, New York, 1855.—
Schnitzler, J. H., Geheime Geschichte Russlands unter den Kaisern
Alexander und Nikolaus, unter besonderer Berücksichtigung der
Krisis von 1825, Grimma, 1847, 2 vols., English translation, Secret
History of the Court and Government of Russia Under the Emperors