Page 11 of Stuck With the Smokejumper

“Yep.” I take it and shove it under the cart and follow him.

We're almost finished when we reach the section Mercer's reserves for touristy items. Montana magnets. Huckleberry candy. Fishing-themed mugs. T-shirts. And Bigfoot. So much Bigfoot.

Beck slows.

I know what catches his attention before he reaches for it.

A dark green T-shirt hangs from the display. A Bigfoot silhouette strides across the front beneath large white letters. WORLD'S HIDE-AND-SEEK CHAMPION.

Beck holds it up. “Okay. That's pretty good.”

“You want one?”

He studies it for another second. “Tempting.” He puts it back.

I pick up a Bigfoot magnet. “So what's the professional opinion?”

“On magnets?”

“On Bigfoot.”

He looks at me.

“You've spent years in places most people will never set foot in. Have you ever seen one?”

“Bigfoot?”

“Yes, Beck. Bigfoot.”

“Nope.” His answer comes too quickly.

I narrow my eyes. “That sounded suspicious.”

He picks up a package of beef jerky. “I've seen some things I couldn't explain.”

I lower the magnet. “Like what?”

“Ask me again after you've spent a night alone in the backcountry.”

I stare at him.

He puts the jerky back.

“That's not an answer.”

“Sure it is.”

“Was it an animal?”

“Maybe.” His expression gives me nothing.

I can't tell if he's messing with me. Which probably means he is. Then he spots something hanging beside the T-shirts. He takes it off the hook. The package reads SASQUATCH CALLER and includes a picture of a Bigfoot standing between two pine trees. Beck turns it over. Then he drops it into the cart.

“Why do you need that?”

“I don’t. Nobody needs it. That's not the point.”

I shake my head and push the cart toward the register.