by Linda Mackay
“Who are those guys?” Amanda asked.
“Not sure. But it wasn’t Butch and Sundance,” Mac said.
Giggles again. For once the sound of them calmed me.
“They went by quickly, so they’ve either identified us or we looked like every other group of campers in their tents.”
I wasn’t calm anymore.
The quiet hung over camp like a lid on a jar locks out the outside air. The silence was closing in and my anxiety taking over. Amanda squeezed my hand. I had forgotten we were still holding hands.
“Rest of you try to sleep,” Mac said. “I’ll stay awake for a while.”
Amanda squeezed my hand again, and I squeezed hers.
Chapter 13
Someone was rattling the poles on our tent. “Time to get up sleepyheads, breakfast is ready. Your clothes are in your tent vestibule.” Amanda snorted an unladylike sound and rolled over. I took one look at her and laughed.
“Laughing at me?” Amanda asked. “Hey, why is it still dark out?”
“It isn’t.” I said sliding my feet out of the sleeping bag. “Your ponytail is in front of your face.”
“I feel like I’m on day one of a three day hangover.” Amanda pulled the ribbon from her hair freeing what was left in the ponytail after a night of tossing and turning.
“I feel refreshed.”
“Bite me,” Amanda said. “I’m freaking freezing.”
“That’s what happens when you sleep in the buff.”
“It wasn’t a planned event.”
“Life’s a bitch.” I unzipped the tent, stepped behind it and changed from my comfy pants to my jeans, shirt and duster. After four days in the same clothes the aroma of body odor, bug spray, food, and horseshit was almost unbearable. I opened the tent flap, threw my comfy pants and shirt back inside hitting Amanda in the face with them. “Sorry.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Princess sleep on a pea last night?” Todd asked handing me a cup of steaming hot coffee.
“Her usual.” I sipped the amazing delicate brew. “Will you marry me?”
“You’ve asked me that a million times and girlfriend my answer will never change.”
“I know. I’m just a summer thing.”
He handed me two granola bars and an orange. I hate when we can’t have a fire and a hot breakfast. I unwrapped the first bar and sat on the ground. I saw Todd’s ankles as he squatted over the tiny stove. “You’re wearing socks?”
“That was a nice try.”
I looked around camp for Special Forces to tell him he sucked, but he was nowhere to be seen.
Todd refilled my coffee. “Don’t blame Mac for selling you out. I stole his last pair of clean underwear and we made a deal.”
“I take it he’s still in possession of Amanda’s socks.”
Todd shook his head yes. “Your secret is safe.”
I guess a little payback is better than nothing.
“Why must the sun come up so early?” Amanda fell out of the tent naked, picked up her clothes and dressed in the small vestibule outside our tent.
“She needs a job in Antarctica where the sun doesn’t shine six months a year,” Todd said.
“Don’t think she could stand the cold.” I held my cup out for more coffee.
“I’m not sure what that girl can stand she complains so much.” Frank stepped out from the trees where the horses were tied. “They need to eat and that won’t be happening in this wasteland.”
“Want help taking them to grass?” I asked.
“Nope. But you three can close up the rest of camp and hike down with it.” Frank dropped a pack on the ground and walked back to the horses. Dad and Mac must have already ridden back to the trail. I wish I hadn’t slept late. Last thing I wanted was to acquire Amanda’s trail princess reputation. Normally, I was awake in the backcountry as soon as light touched the eastern sky. My sleep was usually light and disturbed there since an ultra-light polyester tent wall wasn’t much in the way of protection from large curious animals.
My ability to communicate or interact with them isn’t like talking to them through a fence in a zoo. Yellowstone is full of animals that will kick, head butt, gore you, or bite your arm off as you walk the boardwalks at Old Faithful. Hike a mile into the backcountry and those so-called road animals lose any semblance of tolerance. In the snow-covered mountains, muddy marshes, and lush meadow grasslands they are kings and queens. They haven’t developed the slightest tolerance for two-legged mammals. Few humans move through the backcountry every year, those who do either follow the laws of the resident animals or the penalty can be fatal.
“What’s for breakfast?” Amanda asked taking the granola bars and orange Todd tossed her. “Oh, yummy.”
While Amanda ate, I rolled up the sleeping bags and dropped the tent. Todd stuffed everything in the pack and we began the walk back to the trail.
“Why are we walking?” Amanda asked shuffling her feet.
“Because Princess took too long getting ready and everybody else left us so the horses could eat.” Todd swatted her on the butt. “Move it, you’re slower than the line at the DMV.”
The horses and others finally came into view. The three men were kneeling on the ground looking at a map. As Mac pointed at a spot on the map his shirt tightened against his biceps. Five days in the backcountry had integrated him into looking like a local. His skin darkened in the sun, a new-growth beard camouflaged his smile, and like the rest of us, he wore a bandana around his neck. His boots were more for walking than riding, but his borrowed chaps and cowboy hat gave him the look of a real cowboy.
I understood with his aptitude for language, and wearing clothes that blend in, he would easily be able to move in foreign countries undetected. Not a spy my ass. Every movement he made was calculated; there was never a wasted motion.
“Son of a bitch!” My body hit the ground like a sheet of plywood falling over.
“Do we have any full body padding for her?” Mac asked.
“Wouldn’t help.” Frank said without turning around to look.
Dad also didn’t bother to see if I was okay. “Girl’s been clumsy her whole life.”
Todd caught up to me and took hold of my elbow helping me up. “You really need to stop thinking when you walk, and start watching your feet.”
“You okay?” Amanda walked past me.
“Fine.” I brushed my hands off. “My Chinks saved my knees.”
“Hands are a little scraped up.” Carefully inspecting them Todd said, “don’t rub that blood on your clothes, we don’t need it attracting a hungry bear or lion.”
We reached the horses and Todd poured a small amount of water over my hands and gave me some leaves to wipe it off. “When we reach the nearest creek stop and clean your palms really well.”
“Thanks.”
“Got your back, sister.” Todd mounted Stud. “We riding or loafing?”
“Get your underpants out of your butt,” Dad said.
“The saying is, don’t get your panties in a knot.” Blue tried to escape as Amanda mounted from the wrong side.
“I don’t care where anyone’s panties are, just wait a freaking minute.” I put the pack with our tent and rest of the gear on Deli, and then mounted Arikira. “Get enough to eat girl?”
She turned her head and looked at me sitting in the saddle, I’m pretty sure she rolled her eyes, and I’m damn sure she stuck her tongue out. I not only had to put up with sarcasm from the humans, but the horses joined in too.
Before we rode out, Dad explained the goal today was to ride past Columbine Creek, continue north to Clear Creek and on to Cub Creek if there were no sign of Feds. At Clear Creek we’d be three miles from the Thorofare Trailhead at its northern starting point. He wanted to ride as far on the trail as we could before encountering any secret service. The plan was to head off-trail at Cub Creek, 1.5 miles from the trailhead.
Dad was sure the signal from the helicopter to the detonation sight was
somewhere near Sedge Bay. Camping near Turbid Lake he’d watched the daily practice run with the helicopter and laser signal. Mac wanted to first head to the hills above Mary Bay to see the damage.
Getting anywhere near the explosion site presented numerous problems. Trails damaged, trees down, rocks and debris thrown from the detonation sight, and security may still be in place prohibiting us from entering the area. If we were spotted and stopped we would be turned away at best and at worst find ourselves in park jail. We needed to reach the Turbid Lake area without being seen.
An ex-spy, a crusty cowboy, a rule-breaking old fart, a princess, a wanna-be badass, and a clumsy geologist, were not conducive to a stealth operation. While the princess and I slept like the dead last night, I hoped someone had planned how we were going to get to Turbid Lake undetected and undead. Right now winning a zombie attack with this crew seemed better odds than defeating the Feds.
“Ouch!” Amanda smacked and killed the horse fly biting through her sleeve.
“Should of put your coat on while it was still chilly.”
She reached behind her saddle, unhooked the rain duster, slipped her arms in the coat and tightened the collar around her bandana. “I feel like a tamale.”
“That sounds so good,” Todd said. “Tamales and a huge frozen margarita.”
“Anything’s better than the bug stew we’re dealing with.” Frank swatted a fly with his hat.
Only eight to ten weeks of summer in the high country, and 17 hours of daylight and a trillion freaking bugs infiltrate your enjoyment. Add the fact you will either be sweating, freezing or going postal from the wind, and I sometimes wish I had a desk job. Especially, today since every member of the group had accessible some form of defense other than the normal bear spray everyone carries in the backcountry.
Hidden under Mac’s duster were a 1911 .45 caliber pistol and an HK .45 caliber pistol. Slung across his back was an FN SCAR rifle. I wasn’t a gun expert, and only knew this because I asked Frank. See, I can ask questions. With Mac’s credentials he could carry whatever he wanted, wherever he wanted. I was uncomfortable with Rambo when we left the ranch, now I was grateful I could hide behind him. Opinions change quickly when the death card is dangled in your face. I could hear Mom’s voice telling me years ago, don’t judge anyone until you’ve walked their road.
I thought she was talking about how people judged her ability to sense a future event. In the last few years I’ve come to realize her road took her from the mountains to the high-rise buildings of the city. The dangers in each were vastly different and required very different skills. It’s wrong for me to tell the man in his business suit, racing from meeting to meeting how to live and wrong for him to force his beliefs on me.
At this moment a laptop in a heavy briefcase was not going to save anyone’s life.
The .44 mag pistol in my shoulder holster could.
I hated carrying a gun. I was happier with two bear sprays and my bow and arrows. The bow was illegal in Yellowstone. The gun wasn’t. However, it was illegal to fire that gun, and a ridiculous contradiction. I guess if my bear spray failed to stop a bear, I could point my gun at it and the lawmakers believed that would scare him so much he’d run away. Pretty sure those geniuses hadn’t walked in my boots before making those house-slipper laws. While his credentials gave Mac special privileges, so were Todd, Amanda and I covered by different rules than the everyday traveler in the park. As USGS employees we had special permission to be both off-trail and to use our ‘bear’ firearms if the need arose.
Dad and Frank did not get the same privileges. At this moment I guarantee they didn’t give a rat’s fart in hell about legality. Getting the evidence to prove the President and others were assassinated, and getting back home safe was their priority.
The morning dragged into early afternoon as Mac and Frank moved forward at the speed of Amanda. They let the horses have their head for fifty yards then pulled up, stopped and listened for approaching noises. Much more of this and I was going to need a dozen donuts, four hotdogs with chili, and a sardine sandwich to stay sane. The donuts and dogs were for me, the sardines for the bear traveling on a parallel path with us.
Arikira twitched underneath me, turning her head to check that I knew we had company. An entire book of spy tricks rattling around in Special Forces brain, and he didn’t hear the bear. Every time we stopped, it stopped. I was beginning to think the bear was playing a game with us, when I was overtaken by a wave of pollen on the wind and sneezed. Over and over and over.
The bear ran across the trail and up the hillside.
“Guess he’s afraid of a little air pressure release.” I said wiping my nose on my shirt. Don’t judge me, it’s not like I keep a box of tissues tied to my horse. I reserved what little space I had for important things like peanut M&Ms.
Arikira and I were perfectly still surveying the rodeo around us. The other horses were stomping and turning in circles with their riders working hard to calm them.
“I take it you knew the bear was there?” Dad asked.
“For the last mile he’d been walking in step with us.”
“You kept that a secret?” Mac quieted Chimayo who was not a fan of bears in her territory.
“He wasn’t bothering anyone.”
“Seems like we should be on the need to know list.”
“I’m not on your list,” I smiled.
“You’re on one of my lists, sugar.”
“I’ll make a deal with you, Special Forces.”
“I’m listening.”
“I’ll keep you informed on everything I know, if you tell me everything you tell Frank.”
“You’re blackmailing me?”
“It’s called playing fair. I’m guessing that wasn’t part of your spy training, but in my world you either play fair or get off my horse.”
Mac’s eyebrows squeezed close together and his lips tightened. “You’d strand a man in the middle of nowhere if you don’t get your way?”
“First, you’re just a few miles from so-called-civilization, so stop being a pussy. A little kid could find his way out on this trail. And second, the horse you’re sitting is mine. Which makes it my call if you continue to ride or walk.” I was enjoying having the upper hand. It happens so rarely.
“You don’t understand chain of command do you?” Mac asked.
“We’re not in the fucking army!” Todd saluted with his middle finger. “This bully crap sucks.”
“I knew the bear was there.” Amanda flipped the bandana from her neck and tied it around her wrist. “Just like I know there are people coming up the trail.”
It was silent except for my heart pounding. Soon the laughter bounced around us from the trail ahead. Hikers.
We held our position and waited for them to approach.
“Good morning,” the lead hiker said. “Great day for a walk.”
“Even better one for a ride.” Frank said tipping his hat, as we stopped to let the hikers pass.
“Be aware, there’s been an explosion at the Bay and the place is crawling with cranky cops. Thought they were going to take a stool sample before they let us go.”
“Thanks for the info,” Mac said. “Are they only at the trailhead?”
The last hiker turned back. “Yep. All quiet since then.”
“Thanks, man.”
The hikers had diffused Todd’s outburst. He’d settled back into his saddle, but his lips were pouting like a little boy whose sister had stolen his ice cream cone. At least he was wearing socks. Amanda was fidgeting in her boots. Sliding one sole up and down the stirrup then doing the same with the other foot, scratching away like her feet were covered in poison ivy.
“With the intel we have now Joe, when do you want to cut off-trail?” Mac asked.
“The longer we can stay on a trail the better, let’s push on to Cub Creek.” Wiping the sweat from his face with a bandana Dad said, “Unfortunately, we have to cross the main road somewhere.”
�
��We do it at night.” Frank said moving to the front of the line. “I’m tired of eating dust.”
Mac slowed to become the caboose. I rode just ahead of him. Several times I slowed Arikira and then galloped to catch up stirring extra dust in Special Forces face. I know it was passive-aggressive but since my only therapist was Grampa Nus I figured I was safe.
I also knew I should be deferring to his judgment since this expedition had turned out to be more than a trip through the backcountry to check on Dad, but it was hard to accept leadership from someone who hadn’t spent one day here.
With each step of the horses we were getting closer to danger, but for some unknown reason I was relaxed and in control. Dad was safe. The sun returned. The wind blew a warm breeze in my face. And I’d sprayed enough deet on me the past few days that even the mosquitos were backing off.
I also smelled like the stockyard at the county fair and my hair was so oily I was considering submitting applications to join OPEC. First thing I was doing when we reached Turbid Lake was taking a high-mountain bath. If my nipples froze and snapped off it would be worth it so I didn’t smell like a bar dumpster after New Year’s Eve.
“When did the last space shuttle blast off?” Todd was bored again.
“Who cares?” Amanda wasn’t. “Why can’t you just quietly ride without needing to hear your voice every few minutes?”
“My voice is a finally tuned instrument and what I have to say worth listening too.”
“I’m going to be vomit.”
“My voice isn’t the problem.”
“Wanna bet?”
“Ten bucks to both of you if you can be quiet for a half-hour,” Mac said.
“Twenty if they don’t talk the rest of the day,” Frank added.
“My voice is worth more than that.” Todd sang his response in a voice that honestly was a finely tuned instrument.
“Wow, he didn’t make it 30 seconds,” Mac said.
“So not fair. But if I’m out does anyone know the answer?”
“July, 2011.”
“Holy space flight, Joe. How did you know that?” Todd wasn’t the only one surprised. I would’ve bet no one knew that.