The Replacement

by Anne Marie Duquette

  When Eric gave her a quizzical look, she added, “That’s how this place makes me feel.”

  Most of the Sierra Nevada, and even much of the Yosemite area, was unsuitable for cultivation and homesteads. It took the farsighted John Muir to realize its greatest value as the natural watershed for the whole Central Valley of California. Sometimes, despite its beauty, Lindsey wondered if that was all the area was good for. Or perhaps her past unhappiness with Eric, like past tragedies on this land, would forever associate Yosemite with gloom.

  Thoughts of the bad times in Yosemite haunted her—such as when centuries-old prehistoric species of trees were cut down by miners, the stumps used for dancing platforms for thirty to sixty couples. Or when pioneers deliberately stole the Native Americans’ winter crop of acorns, dooming the tribes to death, and themselves as well. The Indians they’d starved knew to leach the poison out of the bitter nuts. The pioneers didn’t. Even recently, the murder of several visitors in Yosemite had continued the sad legacy of a land better left to the few who could survive in it, or those who could appreciate its beauty in the summertime from the safety of their air-conditioned cars.

  She suddenly became aware that Eric was still staring. “I’m cold. Are we done out here?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Let’s get back inside.” After one more cautious glance around, they headed inside to the welcome warmth of the cabin.

  Lindsey led the way, carrying one last armload of wood to stack inside the outer porch. As Eric followed her and locked the door behind them, Lindsey hurried Ginger along. The trio then stepped into the common room.

  “Keith, you’re up!” Lindsey said with delight.

  “Hardly that,” Keith said from his position on the couch, where both he and Pam sat, wrapped in blankets and bandages. “But I am watching an expert artist. Isn’t Pam good?”

  Pam actually grinned, and continued coloring the Yosemite animals she’d sketched from Naomi’s wildlife book.

  “How’s the shoulder?” Eric asked, placing the rifle in the gun rack above the mantelpiece before taking off his protective gear.

  “If there wasn’t a child present, I’d tell you exactly how it felt,” Keith grumbled. “Since there is, I’ll leave it to your imagination.”

  “They’re both doing well,” Naomi volunteered cheerfully. “Pam’s fever is down a little, and Keith doesn’t have one to speak of—very low-grade. No infection as far as I can tell,” she said, looking at the pole that had held Pam’s IV bag earlier and now held the saline and antibiotics running into Keith’s veins. “Fingers crossed it’ll stay that way.”

  Pam raised one small hand and superstitiously crossed her fingers. Keith did the same, keeping his upper body carefully motionless against the cushions.

  “How’s the weather?” Keith asked.

  “Still snowing. I doubt it’ll stop anytime soon,” Eric replied. “I’ll check in with the main office once I get the batteries in the radio.”

  “The generator’s broke,” Pam said knowledgeably as she concentrated on her coloring.

  “We know,” Eric said. He gently ruffled her hair. It made Lindsey wonder if he’d do the same to his own children someday—if he ever had them.

  “I bet my daddy did it,” Pam said without hesitation. “He breaks things at home, too.”

  “Well, he won’t be breaking anything else here,” Eric said briskly.

  “Come on, let’s draw a picture of Ginger,” Keith suggested. “You said Lindsey wanted one.”

  “I can’t draw dogs. Daddy never let me have one.”

  “Time to learn, then,” Keith said. “Find a brown pencil.”

  “She’s yellow, not brown. I wanna use yellow.”

  “You can use any color you want, but orange would be closer to her real color than yellow,” Eric pointed out. Pam nodded.

  “Orange it is, then,” Keith said. Pam had assigned him the simple task of selecting and replacing colored pencils from the box.

  “Soup’s on,” Naomi called out. “Roast-beef sandwiches, too.” She joined Eric and Lindsey at the table. “Pam and Keith already ate,” she said. “I waited for you.”

  Mindful of her sore muscles, Lindsey lowered herself into the chair, appreciating the attractively set table and the cheerful dried herb-and-flower arrangement in the center.

  Naomi poured hot chocolate into three clean mugs and passed them out. “Hors d’oeuvres,” Naomi said, pushing the bottle of aspirin and Diamox in Lindsey’s direction.

  “Bless you.” Lindsey sighed.

  “How are you holding up?” Naomi asked.

  “Okay,” Lindsey fibbed. “No complaints.”

  “Good,” Naomi reached over to grasp Lindsey’s hand.

  Lindsey’s eyes opened wide. The world really had turned upside down. Or at least Naomi had changed. But even the other woman’s concern didn’t change their dire circumstances.

  Eric waited for them to start eating, then tucked into his own food. The soup was hot, the sandwiches tasty. But despite the trappings of a civilized gathering, Lindsey couldn’t help staring out the window at the heavy snow that continued to fall, and wonder when she’d see the green grass of summer again.

  WILSON SHIVERED AS HE brought a small load of scrap wood into the museum. The exhibit narrative, which he’d had plenty of time to read in his boredom, said the cabin once belonged to early settlers, and had been refurbished according to the old ways, complete with stone fireplace, wooden floors and authentic reproductions of wooden furniture.

  Leave it to bleeding-heart interior decorators to provide him with a ready source of fuel. He’d already burned two of the chairs to keep warm. Unlike the rangers’ more modern cabin, which stood in a wooded copse, this one had been built near a spring. Sadly for him, that spring no longer supported any trees for shelter against the wind. All the old growth had been cut away by pioneers ages ago. In the museum cabin itself, the snack area beneath the old-fashioned metal-tab cash register had been cleaned out as protection against foraging wildlife. Still, he had shelter and fuel, and his own supply of dried food.

  He’d moved in shortly after Pam had been taken away from him, before the new snow had fallen. If only he’d been able to hike to this cabin before those damn rangers had stolen his daughter. But he hadn’t wanted to risk staying in one of the official structures after breaking out of prison. The escape had been easy. Guards and newer prisoners feared him, while the old-timers had either helped him or left him alone. After getting free and kidnapping his daughter, he’d thought leaving the country would be simple. He’d change his name, find a new wife and mother for his child, and start over again someplace new. Had he been wrong in that department!

  His wife had already filed for divorce. That angered him, but not as much as her wanting full custody of Pam with no visitation rights for him, the kid’s own father.

  That he could not and would not abide. Wilson had a mission. His daughter would always be his daughter, and no one, not his wife or the police or a bunch of park rangers would take her away from him. His eyes narrowed. His mistake had been in underestimating the rangers. They’d snatched Pam during one of the few times he’d left her by herself. Then they’d pretended to haul her away on a sled, when in reality the whole performance had been a ruse to draw him out into the open. He’d missed a kill shot when one ranger had bent over to help another. His blood had run cold when he’d heard another rifle fire at him.

  But he’d escaped detection. Now he waited for the snow to stop, for the weather to clear. His museum cabin was a little less than a one-hour hike in good weather from where Pam was being held. He’d crippled one ranger and damaged the generator. He’d get his daughter back if he had to kill them all. And if that proved impossible…

  If he couldn’t have Pam, no one would.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Lee Vining Ranger Station, main office

  Day 5, afternoon

  JACK HUNTER TAPPED HIS pen on the top of Lindsey’s folder. The action w
asn’t one of nervousness. Jack had never been the nervous type. The tapping spoke of frustration and justified worry. As the personnel ranger who’d transferred Lindsey Nelson into this Yosemite mess, he took more than a personal interest in her welfare. He took responsibility for her safety.

  Safety meant everything to Jack. He’d once been head ranger of the winter team in Yosemite himself, until he was awarded his present slot at Personnel.

  Jack continued tapping his pen, light reflecting off it. He didn’t open the folder. He knew what was it in, along with the notes that had led him to first entertain, then finalize Eric Kincaide’s request for Lindsey Nelson as the replacement.

  Despite her lack of physical conditioning for winter activities or canine rescues during the past four years, Jack knew Lindsey Nelson’s job performance was sterling. She was definitely a winner. He also knew that she and Eric had worked exceptionally well together until the engagement was called off. Shattered romance aside, Jack was positive Lindsey and Eric were a professional team that deserved another chance. So far, going by the radio reports from Yosemite, he’d been right. Lindsey had performed brilliantly.

  What was more, Eric Kincaide was winner material, too. Maybe his personal life had some turmoil—whose didn’t?—but like Lindsey, his professional skills had never been in doubt. Despite Lindsey’s many talents, Eric was the stronger, more stable of the two when it came to judgment. He knew how to utilize his ranger team’s talents, talents he might not have, without feeling insecure about it. Eric was definitely an excellent stand-alone ranger, but he excelled even more as a head.

  Lindsey Nelson was just the opposite. Jack recognized her as a woman whose extraordinary, but specific, skills increased exponentially with the right partner or the right team. Stick Lindsey with the wrong partner, and that spelled disaster.

  There would be no disaster if he had his way about it. Jack shoved his pen back inside his uniform shirt pocket, a frown on his face. So far, the working team of four rangers had been cut down to two by a bullet and by health issues. He doubted Naomi Kincaide was working at full potential due to mental anxiety about her own health.

  Cancer… No matter how well he tried to anticipate the skills needed by any replacement, Jack hadn’t counted on Eric’s sister having a health scare. That was one variable not yet in play when he’d phoned Lindsey in San Diego.

  Still, Lindsey had been able to work with the dog and find the missing child, and in record time. Now it remained for Eric Kincaide to keep them all safe. Sooner or later, they’d have to evacuate the park, and with a dangerous gunman aiming for their backs. Jack knew it. Eric knew it. They’d spoken about it in private, when the rest of the team had been out of the common room. The only question was…when?

  Jack didn’t envy Eric the task he had ahead of him. But if anyone could do it, Eric could, with Lindsey on his team.

  Jack opened his lower right-hand desk drawer, placed the file back inside and closed it. He debated contacting the remote ranger station again, anxious to hear the latest status report, but refrained from doing so. The radio was running on batteries now, and if Eric had anything out of the ordinary to report, he would have done so. Jack would just have to wait for the regular call-in.

  His lips thinned. At times like these, he almost wished he was back in the field again.

  Rangers’ winter cabin, afternoon

  LINDSEY CLOSED THE BOOK she’d retrieved from the cabin’s small library as the snow began to fall again on the granite peaks of the Sierra Nevada. Or had it ever stopped? She couldn’t help recalling the worst winter ever recorded—the winter that killed almost half the Donner Party. Twenty-two feet of snow had fallen in 1846. Everything from sedate snowfalls to nine howling blizzards that lasted days, even weeks, without letup.

  Lindsey’s gaze swept over the sleeping patients. She hoped it wouldn’t take Naomi and Eric much time to clear snow from the woodpile on this fuel run. The thermometer read fifteen degrees below zero. Even without the wind, that temperature was dangerous. So dangerous that Naomi had allowed a stiff, sore Lindsey to watch her patients while joining her twin for the outside chores.

  Lindsey’s brow wrinkled in a frown. Sore muscles were the least of her problems. Ever alert, she’d noticed Ginger’s renewed interest in Pam’s feet. The dog sniffed and downright worried over the bandages. As the child slept, Ginger stood at the base of the bed, sniffing and snuffling, her ears perked forward with concentration.

  Gangrene? Despite the antibiotics, it was a distinct possibility, Lindsey thought ruefully. The whole replacement expedition so far had been a big reinforcement of Murphy’s Law: “Whatever can go wrong will go wrong.”

  We’re going to have to pack Pam out of here. If she doesn’t get to a hospital, she could lose more than her feet. She could die….

  Lindsey quietly motioned Ginger to her side, not wanting the dog to wake the sleeping child. Keith moved once, moaned, then settled back to sleep again. Lindsey knew with certainty that sooner or later Keith would need to be evacuated, too, despite the snow and a deranged gunman at large. She rose to her feet, muffling a groan as her back and legs protested. Time for more Tylenol and that stinking liniment, then she’d begin packing for the journey she knew she’d soon face.

  LINDSEY’D ALMOST FINISHED when Eric entered the female rangers’ chilly bedroom.

  “There you are,” he said. “I wondered where—” He broke off, seeing her backpack with attached snowshoes and sleeping bag resting on one of the beds. “Been listening in on the radio conversations?”

  “Nope,” Lindsey replied honestly. “But Ginger’s been sniffing around Pam’s feet far too much for my liking. I hope she doesn’t have gangrene.”

  Eric’s expression was grim. “So does Naomi. She just told me she’s worried about it, but didn’t want Pam or Keith to know.”

  “So that’s why she wanted me to stay here.” Lindsey tightened the last strap of her backpack with a yank that spoke less of need and more of emotion. “Well, I figured it’d be you and me packing Pam out,” she guessed. “And Keith and Naomi will have to wait for a second trip until his shoulder stops bleeding.”

  “Right again,” Eric said. “Though I wish I could take Naomi to the hospital, as well.”

  “Does she have a problem with staying?”

  “No, she volunteered. Said Keith wasn’t ready to be moved, nor were you as well equipped to take care of him as she is.”

  “Poor Naomi— I wish she could be with us for Pam.”

  “I hate to think of that kid going under the knife. Naomi says she’s going to lose some toes. She needs a good doctor.”

  “She needs her mother, too. Oh, I packed your gear.” She noticed the startled lift of his head. “You always hated packing. Socks on top of underwear, just the way you liked it. I used to do it all the time, remember?”

  “I remember. Thanks.”

  There was an awkward silence, then she took a deep breath and went on. “We still need medical gear, but I didn’t want to mess with Naomi’s things. And of course we’ll have to get Pam fitted out on the evac sled. I figured Naomi and I could do that.” Lindsey stopped fiddling with her backpack strap. “God, what a mess. I hate feeling so helpless.”

  “I know.” Eric gathered her in his arms, holding her blissfully close. Even the rough wool of his shirt against her wind-chapped cheek felt good. She found that her arms automatically remembered the way she liked to hold him, her senses taking in his strength and closeness.

  Lindsey let her eyes drift shut for a moment. “When are we leaving?” she asked. “Tomorrow morning?”

  “Late tonight.”

  She didn’t bother asking for an explanation. She knew why. The windless weather was in their favor. They could both navigate the familiar pass with the aid of artificial light. The element of surprise was also a plus; Wilson probably wouldn’t predict a night evacuation.

  “I want you to get in a nap,” Eric ordered. “And maybe get Naomi to rub down your
muscles.” He slowly released her and took a step back.

  “She’s too busy now, but I’m game for the nap when I’m done here.” Lindsey wished she had the nerve to ask Eric to join her. “This has been one hell of a reunion,” she observed.

  “Typically Lindsey-esque,” he said with a smile. “Complete with your usual fireworks.”

  “Yeah, well, this kind of show I didn’t plan on.”

  To her surprise, Eric actually chuckled. “You never do, love. You never do.”

  Lindsey let the sound of the old endearment warm her chilled heart, then reluctantly turned back to business. “I’ll go ask Naomi about those medical supplies.”

  “Wait,” Eric said. “I have a question. Have you examined your breasts lately?”

  “Isn’t that kind of personal?” she asked, startled by the abrupt change of subject.

  “Under the circumstances, no.” He grasped her arms, not painfully, but tightly enough to keep her close. “I’m serious, Lindsey.”

  “So am I. And I haven’t missed any monthly self-exams.”

  Eric sighed. “I could’ve said something to Naomi—but I never thought she had anything to worry about.”

  “No one ever does,” Lindsey said softly, placing her hand on Eric’s arm in a gesture of comfort. “But, Eric, it’s Naomi’s body…Naomi’s responsibility. You can’t blame yourself.”

  “I can wish things were different. Since that’s a waste of time,” Eric said, his curtness breaking the mood, “let’s get started on those medical supplies.”

  PACKING THE SUPPLIES didn’t take long, but convincing Keith to stay put did. The moment he woke up and realized the situation, he demanded that he and Naomi be allowed to join in the exodus.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Naomi said. “You’re not ready for such an arduous trip. You’d bleed to death.”