by D'Ann Lindun
He wasn’t going to get a drink or get to wade in a stream if he didn’t get up and move. With a tired sigh, he shoved to his feet. If he hadn’t already taken an unexpected hike in new boots, walking would be easy. But his feet burned, making this trip agony. With a moan, he started in the direction he thought looked right.
A few minutes later, he found a trail that looked traveled by elk or deer, but not recently. Faint tracks and droppings that looked weeks old, along with pine needles covered the path, but he figured it had to lead to somewhere, so he followed it. The forest began to thin, the sun’s rays filtered through pine boughs, bathing the ground in a glimmering golden light. A meadow should be close. If he weren’t so exhausted, Jake would enjoy the peace and quiet. All he wanted to do was lie down and sleep for twenty-four hours straight, but he forced himself to pick up the pace.
Breaking out of the trees, he found the grassy field he anticipated. What he didn’t expect was the bright blue and orange tent situated at the far edge of the meadow. Thank God. He’d found some people. He hobbled toward the camp calling out, “Hello? Anyone here?”
No answer.
He tried again.
Straining his ears, he caught a faint noise from over the hill behind the tent. He skirted camp and looked over the edge behind it. Two young women cavorted in a pond at the base of a small waterfall. Both wore bikini tops with cutoffs and seemed to be having a great time laughing and screeching as they splashed one another. They reminded him of someone, but he was so exhausted he couldn’t put his finger on just who. Under other circumstances, he would’ve enjoyed the view as much as the next guy, but right now all he wanted was rest. He shouted out again. “Hello down there.”
The closer girl looked up, shading her eyes with her hand, and pointed toward his direction.
The other one spun around, nearly falling, catching herself in the last second. They splashed out of the water and wrapped towels around their shoulders. Even from a fair distance, Jake could tell they looked frightened. He didn’t blame them. If he saw himself coming over a hill, he’d probably run away screaming like a madman. He held out his hands to show them he wasn’t holding a weapon and scrambled down the hill. Both women were blonde. One tall and skinny with a bellybutton ring, the other short with legs that were almost, but not quite, fat. Both had deep tans. Neither had a friendly look in her eyes.
“Hi, girls.” He tried to look unimposing. “I seem to be lost.”
The taller girl didn’t relax her posture even a fraction. “What happened?”
He smiled sheepishly. “I got separated from my friend last night and have been trying to find my way back to him ever since.” Not the whole truth, but enough to make him sound honest. “Do you know where Dead Horse Canyon is?”
Both shook their heads, shooting a look between them.
He didn’t believe them.
“Man, that water looks good.” He knelt at the water’s edge and leaned toward it.
“What are you doing?” Bellybutton ring asked.
“Drinking.” He could almost taste the icy drink now.
“Don’t.” The tone of her voice made him look up. “It’s not safe. We’ll give you a bottled water instead.”
He nodded and splashed his face. The icy temperature stole his breath and revived him a little. “Oh, that’s cold. Brrrr.” He took off his shoes and socks and waded into the stream. His aching feet almost cried with relief.
Refreshed, he stepped out on the bank and sat by his discarded boots and socks.
Bellybutton ring said, “We didn’t catch your name.”
“Jake Brown.” He pulled on a sock. “And yours?”
The fat-legged girl giggled. “Lacey.”
“Heather.”
“Can you help me get my bearings?”
“We have a map back at the tent you could look at,” Lacey said.
Jake pretended not to see Heather elbow her shorter friend. “That’d help,” he said.
“Come on then,” Heather said without warmth in her voice or manner. She led the way up the incline, Lacey right behind her and Jake tagging along. Heather glared at him over her shoulder. “You can look at the map, but then you need to leave.”
“No problem.” He didn’t blame her for wanting him gone. He was a stranger who’d appeared out of nowhere. For all they knew he could be a serial killer.
At camp Heather indicated he should sit on a pile of blankets and sleeping bags outside the tent. With a grateful sigh, he did as she asked. His eyes fluttered shut. It would be so easy to just lie here for a while. Both women disappeared into the tent. In a minute, Heather returned with a bottle of water and a granola bar. “Don’t fall asleep on me. You need to get moving.”
He forced his eyes open and eagerly drank from the bottle, then unwrapped the snack and downed it in about two bites. He could’ve eaten a whole box of them.
Lacey brought out a map and another granola bar and handed him the food. “Eat this so you have enough energy to keep hiking.” She sat next to him and spread out the map. Pointing, she said, “We’re here. We parked at Stoney Wash rest area and hiked up the trail then took the right fork. It was about ten miles.”
“Where’s Dead Horse Canyon from here?” Heather found it on the map with little effort. “This line shows that Stoney Creek Trail edges the rim of Dead Horse for a ways, then either turns off into the forest or dives down into the canyon. The trail makes a big loop and we’re on the west side of the circle. Right here.” She tapped the map. “See?”
Jake looked where she indicated. Somehow, instead of turning back toward the cabin, he’d gone the opposite direction. He had to backtrack about two miles, turn left instead of right, and he’d be back on the trail where he’d lost Rojo. The cabin was about seven or eight miles back to the east. “Thanks.” He downed the last of his water. “I’d better be going.”
Heather folded up her map and stuffed it in her back pocket. She looked at him like he was a bad science experiment. “Lacey and I will travel with you for a bit and make sure you’re headed the right direction.”
He ought to hurry back to the cabin and see what was going on, but exhaustion overwhelmed him and the soft blankets felt so good. A short nap would do him good. “I can’t take another step until I rest for a bit.”
Heather glared at him. “One hour. That’s plenty of time to catch a nap and make it back to Dead Horse Canyon before nightfall.”
He couldn’t hold his eyes open another second. “Okay.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Castaña and Patty sat on a high point overlooking the forest eating a late lunch. By the sun’s position in the sky, the time was around three, but they had wanted to press on to the lookout before taking a break.
“Where next?” Patty took a bite of roast beef sandwich and observed the forested valley below.
“I honestly don’t know,” Castaña admitted. “It’s getting late and it’ll take at least two hours to ride back to camp. But I want to check the old Hampstead place first. There’s a corral there Martin sometimes used.”
“I know where it is,” Patty said. “Where do you suppose the others are?”
“I have no idea. I thought we might be able to see something from here.” From their vantage point, they could see for miles in every direction, but all they saw were pine trees and the glimmer of sun on water. A bee buzzed around, looking for something sweet in their lunches.
Patty nudged Castaña’s arm. “What’s that?”
“What?” Castaña didn’t see what Patty looked at.
“There.” Patty pointed to a dark spot in the clear blue sky. “I think it was one of the flares.”
In a minute, another bright burst of red light flashed across the sky.
“I see it.” Castaña motioned ahead of her. “They’re close to the deer pond. We can go down this way and be there in about an hour.”
Patty already had her lunch packed and was on her feet. “I wonder if this means they found someone.�
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Castaña prayed it wasn’t Martin.
In seconds, they were mounted up. Castaña led the way, quickly finding the steep trail down the face of the peak. One of Gato’s hooves slipped a little on some loose rocks and Castaña gasped. Her mouth felt like she’d swallowed sand and her heart thudded in painful, rapid beats. She didn’t know if her sticky hand wrapped around the saddlehorn would ever come loose. She hated this narrow trail, but it was the fastest way down. It would take hours to backtrack and ride around the bottom.
“You okay?” Patty called.
“Yeah. Fine.” Castaña kept her gaze straight ahead, leveled between Gato’s black-tipped ears. As long as she took a lot of deep breaths and didn’t look off into the deep chasm she was okay. Sort of.
“I see something,” Patty called.
Castaña didn’t turn around to look at her. “What?”
“I think it’s a horse.”
“Where?” Castaña assumed Patty pointed at something, but she wasn’t about to turn around in her saddle to find out.
“Over by the pond.”
Castaña risked a glance out over the treetops. Quickly, she turned her eyes back to the trail in front of her. “I can’t look right now. Can we get to them when we get down?”
“I think so,” Patty said.
The rest of the trip was made in tense silence.
At the bottom of the hair-raising trail, Castaña reined in and Patty moved up beside her. “I always forget how much fun that ride is. Whew. It’s not for scaredy cats.”
“You’ve been down it before?”
“Yeah.” Patty bent around in her saddle and pulled a bottle of water out of her saddlebags. She twisted off the cap and took a long swallow. “I once helped rescue a hiker who slipped and fell.”
Castaña shuddered and reached for her own water. “Did it kill him?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
Martin could’ve had a similar accident and no one would ever know it. They could ride right past him and never even see him. Castaña pushed those thoughts out of her head. “You said you thought you saw horses? Where?”
Patty slipped her water back in its holder. “I’ll show you.”
The trail split and they took the left fork, although the right led toward the position of the flare. The trail here was well maintained and wide. Through the thinning trees, they caught glimpses of a pond. Gato neighed and another horse answered.
“That’s coming from the direction I saw the horse,” Patty said.
“It sounds like Rojo.” They’d find out in a minute.
When they broke into the open, they spotted a large pond ringed by trees. Not a place a horse would hang out except to drink. Gato and Patty’s horse both walked eagerly to the edge and dropped their muzzles into the clear water.
A sorrel horse broke over the far bank and galloped toward them.
Rojo.
And Cloud right behind him.
Castaña dismounted and untied a halter from her saddlehorn, and as the horses galloped up to them, she noticed Rojo wore his halter and, not one, but two lead ropes. She caught the sorrel and patted his warm neck. Cloud stayed out of reach. She examined the sorrel, but didn’t find any injuries. Cloud looked fine, too, although his halter was missing. “What happened, boys? What are you doing this far from camp?”
“Looks like somebody made a makeshift bridle,” Patty commented.
“Jake, probably.” But what happened to him? Had he managed to catch Rojo and attempted to haul the injured man to safety? Why? How had the horse ended up miles in the opposite direction from the ranch? Had whoever shot off the flare gun found the men? Castaña mounted Gato. “We better make tracks toward the flare. I think Cloud will follow us.”
As they rode away from the lake, the appaloosa trailed along behind.
~*~
Before they reached Staton, Perez and the S&R team, Castaña and Patty saw a form in a body bag. They rode up close and dismounted. Staton spoke first. “You saw my flares.”
“Yes.”
“Uh-huh.” Patty stepped closer. “Who’d you find?”
Castaña held her breath. Please don’t let it be Martin. Or Jake.
Staton looked at her. “We were hoping you could tell us. Can you identify the body?”
On wobbly legs, Castaña stepped forward. Perez unzipped the body bag a little and she peered in. Not Martin. Relief, and then her gag reflex made her knees go weak. In the light of day, the man looked like a world champion boxer had beaten him up. Purple and blue bruises stood out against his death pallor like paint thrown on a white canvas. Dried blood trickled from his mouth and nose. “That’s the same man we found last night.”
“You think your brother knew this man?” Staton made it sound more like a statement than a question.
“I don’t know,” Castaña said. “Are you blaming Martin for this guy’s death, too?”
“Just asking questions,” Staton replied coolly. “For instance, how did this man get clear over here from Dead Horse Canyon? When did he die? And how? You said he was still alive when you last saw him.”
“I have no idea what happened to him. He was in bad shape when I left, but I thought he’d live until help arrived.” She straightened and took in her surroundings. The group stood in the middle of a sandy wash rimmed by sagebrush. From here to Phoenix, the terrain would become progressively more barren until it was desert. In the other direction, as a crow flies, from here to the cabin would be at least two miles through thick timber.
“I don’t either,” Staton admitted. “Where’d you find the horses? Yours?”
“Yeah, they’re mine.” She hooked a thumb over her shoulder. “Up there. By Big Otter Lake.”
“That’s not too far from here, is it?” he asked thoughtfully.
“No.” She could guess what he was thinking. Someone could’ve ridden the horse, or used him to carry the body here, then turned him loose. But why leave on the halter? Jake could answer these questions, but where was he? “You didn’t spot anyone else?”
“Not even a glimpse.”
“What about tracks?”
“No, the rain washed anything useful away.” Staton turned his attention to the others. “Let’s pack the meat and get out of here.”
Castaña looked away while the men loaded the body on the packhorse they’d brought along for that purpose. She didn’t want to watch them wrestle the dead man onto the horse’s back like a sack of garbage. From all the huffing and puffing, he must weigh a ton. Finally, someone said, “Got ’im. Toss me the lash rope.”
Castaña hoped there was a little more dignity in her passing.
“What’s your plan now?” Patty broke Castaña out of her gloomy thoughts.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “If Martin’s out here he’s bound to be close to the mustangs. But I don’t know where they range anymore.”
“Where were the BLM men killed?”
“Near Angel Falls.”
“That’s a starting point, isn’t it?” Patty glanced at the sky. “If we ride fairly fast we can make it by sundown.”
“We?” Castaña arched her brows. “Don’t you have to go back with the guys?”
“I can hang out a little longer,” Patty said. “For a couple of days, at least. I’ll have Ron call my boss and tell him I’m needed on a search. The way people are dropping like flies out here it might not be safe for you to be alone.”
Basically the same thing Jake had said. Where was he? How had he gotten split up with the injured man? Was he all right? “Thank you,” Castaña said. Although she hadn’t known Patty very long, she was fast becoming a good friend.
“Let me tell Ron.” Patty and the team leader had a quiet discussion. Then he nodded. Patty returned to Castaña. “All good. Ron’ll call work and fill them in. I should’ve asked—do you have enough supplies for an overnight? I have enough for one, but not two.”
“I have plenty,” Castaña said. “But I don’t need three hors
es. I wonder if Ron might take the extra two back to the ranch? They’re going that way anyway.”
“Let’s ask him.”
Together the two women approached the older man. He stood talking with the two other S&R members. Castaña waited until he finished then spoke to Ron. “I was hoping you might take my extra two horses back to the ranch? They’re just going to get in my way.”
“I don’t mind,” he said. “But what if you find the other fellow? You might need a horse to pack him out.”
“You’re right. I hadn’t thought of that,” Castaña said. “Never mind. I’ll lead Rojo and Cloud can continue to follow.”
“Be careful, girls.” Ron’s voice was grave. “I don’t like what’s going on around here one bit.”
The tall, skinny S&R team member leered at them. “Yeah, there’s boogermen out there in the woods. Maybe I ought to go along and protect you.” He licked his lips and hooked his thumbs threw his belt loops, pulling his jeans up so they pulled tight against his crotch.
Castaña glared at him, but didn’t comment.
Patty rolled her eyes. “Hey, Ron, I was just wondering if you have any idea where the horses range nowadays?”
He reached for a can of tobacco and tapped it. “Well, let me see. I guided a few tourists into the Apache-Sitgreave last fall and we saw a bunch along the way. I guess they had to be close to camp.” He placed a dab of tobacco in his mouth. “We spent the night at the old ranger cabin. Yeah, that’s right. An old pinto stallion was running with a few mares and colts. The dudes sure were taken with them. Shot a bunch of pictures. That’s the only herd I can think of offhand.”
“Thanks, Ron. That helps a lot,” Castaña said.