by Meg Muldoon
I gently draped my sleeping bag over Daniel, trying to give him another layer of warmth. He groaned slightly, but didn’t open his eyes.
I made my way over to the tent opening, and with trembling hands, unzipped it as quietly as I could.
My jaw nearly hit the forest floor when I looked outside.
Overnight, what had once been a rain-soaked green forest landscape had been transformed into a winter wonderland. Everything was covered in a thin blanket of fresh, white powder.
The first snow of the season had arrived up here in the mountains.
And even though I was trembling with cold, and even though the frosty air felt as though it was turning my lungs to frozen meat – I couldn’t deny that the scene before me was one of spectacular beauty.
Watching the first rays of sunshine hit the snow-dusted trees and turn the powder to shades of sherbet was simply breathtaking.
I stepped outside, quickly zipping the tent back up behind me to keep Daniel at least a little warmer than out here. I looked around for a long moment.
It might have been the most beautiful morning I’d ever witnessed in my life.
But I couldn’t just stand there and admire it. I was in too much discomfort for that.
I began walking, moving my legs, cupping my hands over my mouth and blowing hard. It was like trying to bring life to a dead body. My limbs just weren’t doing what I asked them to.
I walked around the tent and then headed out a little ways through the woods. A slight breeze shook the Ponderosas around me, and a few clumps of snow fell and dented the pure white powder layer covering the forest floor.
I kept moving. Pounding out my feet on the hard ground, shaking out my hands. Hoping they weren’t too far gone to bring back to life.
After a little ways, I began to feel some stirring in my limbs, and then finally, a prickling sensation that hurt, but was a necessary evil on the road back to feeling. I kept going through the woods, the crunching sound of my footsteps the only noise except for the trickling of the Red Rock River in the distance.
I glanced back behind me, seeing the bright green flap of the tent peeking through the snow. Then I kept going straight to the river. The shivers were starting to dissipate, and I knew that if I walked just a little further, it wouldn’t be long before I found a sunny patch where I could warm myself up properly.
A few more clumps of snow dropped from the pines, hitting me on the back of my neck. I grimaced at the cold, wet sensation, and picked up the pace, racing toward a low-lying ridge in the distance where the sun was hitting.
I always enjoyed watching the sun rise up over the woods behind my pie shop – and usually tried to take a moment to appreciate it in between mixing up fillings and rolling out pastry. But this was a different beauty altogether out here, up in the pure mountain air, removed from civilization. It was clean and everything practically sparkled. And more than that, the arrival of the sun seemed to have much more meaning here in the wilderness, where the darkness of night was so all-encompassing. And deep within my bones, I felt a sort of primitive satisfaction as I climbed up the ridge and felt the sunshine spread across my shoulders.
I dusted a large boulder free of snow – most of it was melting already – and then leaned against it, staying still for a long moment.
I now understood what a reptile felt like in the morning. The sun was pure bliss after the icy bitterness of the night.
I took off the fleece and listened to the sound of the river in the distance, and the sound of the snow melting and dripping in the forest. I gazed out at the landscape while I warmed up. In the distance, the now-white jagged, broken peak of Charity Mountain glimmered beneath the blue morning skies. The river rushed by, silvery and swift. And just before its waters disappeared around the bend in the distance, a stand of massive Black Cottonwood trees with crisp, apple cider-yellow leaves sprang out from the bank and—
I shot up off the rock suddenly, my heart skipping a beat as I watched those craggy, rough-barked cottonwoods sway in the wind.
I furrowed my brow, overwhelmed by a feeling that I’d just come across something major.
A grove of cottonwood trees was not something you normally came across in the Christmas River National Forest. You saw aspens occasionally, but Black Cottonwoods were very rare in this area. And to find a bank of them just growing like that alongside a river up in the mountains was highly unusual.
In fact, I couldn’t think of another time I’d seen so many large ones clustered together out here in this wilderness
I am here in the cottonwood grove, by the bend in the river.
I felt my arms break out in goosebumps – it wasn’t from the cold, either.
My eyes drifted from the cottonwoods to the nearby river, scanning the silvery waters as they disappeared around the bend. Several large boulders speckled the bend of the river, and shone in the sun like ice.
“Red obsidian shines around me. It’s nearly as beautiful as the way your hair glistens on a clear summer day, Lillian.”
I felt my mouth go bone-dry.
I jaunted down the hill, following the edge of the river to the bank of cottonwoods in the distance. My feet flying over rocks and dead trees obscured by snow.
A few moments later, I was standing beneath the Black Cottonwoods in a pile of their yellow leaves, listening to the sound of their branches creaking in the wind.
I gazed at the red obsidian boulders in the river directly in front of me.
The hair on the back of my neck stood straight up on end.
This couldn’t be just a coincidence, could it? A sizeable cottonwood grove like this in the middle of a forest of pine? Red obsidian rocks – something I’d never seen before out here – at the bend of a river? Things mentioned in Christmas Flynn’s letter to Lillian.
Things that had been mentioned with purpose, I now realized.
Directions.
I felt shivers crawl up and down my spine.
And maybe… maybe Wes had figured out that it was more than just a love letter, too.
I swallowed hard, astonished.
Holy s—
“There you are,” a voice sounded from behind me.
I spun around. He was climbing down the small hill toward me, an expression of relief on his face.
“Daniel, you’ll never believe—”
“I was starting to think a Sasquatch had carried you off in the night,” he said, smiling a sleepy smile. “But I see that that isn’t the case. Nice morning, isn’t it? But it’s a little chilly if I do say so—”
I stepped up to him suddenly.
“Daniel.”
He furrowed his brow, obviously taken by surprise by the urgency in my tone.
“What?” he said. “Is the Sasquatch around somewhere?”
“Look up,” I said, my tone as serious as a four car pile-up.
I nodded toward the cottonwoods swaying above us. He followed my gaze.
At first, he looked perplexed, not understanding what it meant or why there was such a strange desperation in my tone.
But then… then I saw something spark in his eyes. And I knew that he’d made the connection.
He turned his head, his eyes zeroing in on the large red boulders, glistening in the river.
“Cin…”
The thought remained unfinished.
He gazed at me in pure disbelief.
“If this is real – I mean, if this is really real, then…
He trailed off again.
“Wes’s got to be nearby,” I said. “He must have read that letter and understood what Christmas Flynn meant by it. This is where Wes and Angie must have been headed, all along.”
“Hot damn, Cin,” he said, shaking his head, still obviously in disbelief. “Do you understand what you just did? Do you understand what this means?”
I felt my cheeks flush.
“We’re going to find him today, Cin,” Daniel said. “Thanks to you, we’re going to find him.”
&n
bsp; It seemed that our luck had finally changed.
Chapter 48
It was early afternoon and any trace of snow had long since melted away. The autumn sun beat down hot upon our backs, and except for a few patches of white on Mt. Charity in the distance, you would have never known that the first snow of the year had fallen earlier that day.
I stopped for a moment in the field of lava rocks, trying to catch my breath. I took off my cowgirl hat, running the back of my hand against my sweaty forehead. Then I fished out the water bottle from my backpack and hit it hard. I gulped it down, caught my breath, and watched Daniel as he walked across the field. Heat rose up from the lava rocks, surrounding his lean frame in a strange, wavy haze. Making it look as though he was emerging from an Impressionist-style painting.
After the initial excitement of finding the cottonwood grove and red obsidian at the bend of the river, we’d once again hit a dead end. We’d checked the area surrounding the spot thoroughly, but as of yet, had found no trace of Wes. Nor had we found any sign of the legendary Christmas Flynn treasure, either, for that matter. We were now scouting a field of lava rocks that we’d stumbled upon, about half a mile from the bend in the river. Or more accurately, Daniel was scouting the area. I was just trying to make it through without injuring myself. The lava rocks were hell to walk on. A freak of nature left behind millions of years ago when Mt. Charity blew her top, the lava had created not only fields of jagged, sharp rocks, but it had also carved out miles and miles of underground tubes beneath the earth. It was a little geography fact that Warren had taught me about when I was a kid, and I remember having been fascinated by the thought that Central Oregon had once been a place of brimstone, fire, and geological violence.
After finishing off the water in the bottle, I slid it into my bag and then readjusted the straps firmly on my back.
I forced my legs to move again and began walking slowly over the rocks toward Daniel. Picking my way through the sharp, craggy field. Stumbling a little here and there as I did. My legs felt heavy and lethargic and sore as hell.
I’d have been lying if I said that I wasn’t having some serious doubts about what I was doing out here.
Maybe I should have listened to Daniel in the first place. Maybe we shouldn’t have come out here – or at least, I shouldn’t have come. I was a pie baker – not a Search & Rescue volunteer. Why had I thought I’d be able to find Wes? Why had I been so sure that we’d—
I squinted through the heat haze.
Daniel was coming toward me. Waving his arms above his head. Shouting something I couldn’t hear at the distance I was.
I blinked my eyes.
Was this part of the mirage? My mind playing tricks on me in the heat of the day?
I peered hard, trying to differentiate between what was real and what was a product of this Godforsaken lava field roasting under the sun.
“Cin… Come here… I found—”
It was real.
I forced my tired legs to move and began running toward him. Tripping and nearly falling a couple of times along the way. But somehow, I found enough strength in my tired muscles to keep going.
As I got closer, I began to make out his face.
“Quick, Cin!” he shouted.
My heart thudded hard in my chest.
Chapter 49
Of all the people and things I had expected to see out in the woods today, Kevin Hayward had not been on my list.
Kevin – the good natured, jovial, somewhat-bumbling Search & Rescue volunteer who had come here from Tacoma for the summer with Wes and Angie – sat on a large boulder a few hundred yards beyond the lava field, leaning forward and sucking in deep breaths of air.
He grimaced, squinting hard as he gazed out. Then he abruptly lowered his head and stared at the ground. He looked a little queasy – as if the physical effort of just sitting out here had exhausted him.
I thought back to the way Daniel had joked with Kevin during the Search & Rescue party. About how none of the volunteers required anything for their time and effort, save for Kevin, who asked for a six pack and bear claws to be waiting for him at the end of every successful operation.
I smiled, remembering how everybody laughed, and how well Kevin took the joke.
“Am I sure glad I came across you guys out here,” he said in between heavy breaths. “I’m starting to run out of food.”
“It’s good seeing you, too, Kevin,” Daniel said. “We all thought you’d gone back home to Tacoma.”
“I did, Sheriff,” he said. “But when I heard about Wes and Angie… well, I had to help. I was a little late getting here for the search, but I made it out here yesterday morning. I guess I was in such a hurry, though, I didn’t prepare very well.”
Daniel pulled out an energy bar from his backpack and handed it to him. Kevin took it with a thankful nod and ripped it open, biting into the chewy brown bar with a ravenous look in his eye.
I guess it was a far cry from a bear claw, but it would have to do for the time being.
“Have you found any sign of Wes?” Daniel asked.
Kevin set the energy bar down on the rock next to him, then fumbled around in the pocket of his camp shirt for a second before pulling something out.
“I found this this morning” he said, handing it to Daniel. “About a quarter mile from here up on that ridge.”
Daniel peered down at the paper bag in his hand. I stepped closer, getting a better look at it myself.
It was ripped and muddied, and looked like it had been exposed to the elements for quite some time.
But I recognized it almost immediately for what it was.
There was a small stamp on the brown bag that had remained intact. A stamp I was all too familiar with.
It was an image of a pie and a cup of steaming coffee next to it. The words “Cinnamon’s Pies” stamped above.
A small gasp escaped my lips.
It had to be the same bag I’d sent Angie out with that day, when she’d stopped in my pie shop for provisions. There was virtually no other explanation.
We had to be close.
“Kevin – where did you find this again?” Daniel asked, his voice brimming with excitement.
The big man drew in another deep breath.
“Just up over that ridge,” he said, nodding. “I’ve been looking around here all morning, but haven’t found anything else.”
“Can you show us exactly where?” Daniel asked.
Kevin nodded, standing up, groaning slightly with the effort. He started heading out through the woods, up the ridge, his big beige hiking boots hitting the forest floor with a steady thud. We followed close behind.
After a few minutes of trekking uphill, Kevin stopped. He pointed to an area covered in pine needles next to a large tree stump.
“It was right there,” he said. “That’s where I found it. Just out in the open.”
He smiled warmly, catching my eyes.
“To tell you the truth, when I found it, I was thinking to myself how nice it would be to have one of your pies right about now, Cin,” he said. “The energy bar’s fine, but I tell you – one of your pies would bring me right back to life.”
I grinned.
“Well, when we get back to Christmas River, there’ll be one with your name on it,” I said.
I heard a loud grumble erupt from his stomach, and though I tried to stifle it, I couldn’t help but let out a laugh.
“You make it one of those Chocolate Pecan pies of yours, girl, and you’ll have a lifelong friend right here,” he said.
Daniel knelt down, studying the ground for a long while, ignoring the banter.
“So where did you look this morning?” he asked Kevin. “After you found this?”
Kevin nodded toward the lava field where we’d come from.
“Over there and a little bit south of here. But I haven’t explored east or much farther beyond the ridge, yet.”
Daniel stood up, dusting off his hands.
&nb
sp; “Okay – I say we split up and look,” he said. “That’s our best shot.”
Kevin nodded.
“Good idea,” he said. “You want to take east of the ridge, Sheriff?”
“Yeah – Cin and I will cover that area,” he said in agreement. “You’ll take up north?”
Kevin nodded.
“How about we meet back here in a couple hours if we don’t find anything,” Daniel said. “Sound good to you?”
Kevin nodded again.
Daniel rummaged around in his backpack, pulling out another energy bar and our tin of cashews. He handed both items to him.
“You need any water?” Daniel asked.
He shook his head.
“I’ve got enough for now. I’ll see you guys in a bit,” Kevin said, squirreling the bar and cashews away in the pocket of his cargo vest.
He readjusted the straps and then started heading north along the ridge.
“Say, Kevin?” Daniel shouted.
The big guy turned around.
“Nice work, man.”
Kevin beamed with pride.
“You know, I’ve got a real good feeling about today, Sheriff,” he said. “And you know what else I think?”
“What’s that?”
“I think he’s alive,” Kevin said hopefully.
A second later, he was up on the ridge, his big legs carrying him at a surprisingly speedy clip.
“I hope he’s right,” Daniel whispered out loud to no one in particular.
Chapter 50
“Wes!? Are you out here?!”
I paused, holding my breath, listening for a response. But the only answer I got was the sound of the wind rustling through the pines.
I continued down the hill. In the distance, I heard Daniel shouting similar things. But as far as I could tell, he wasn’t getting any response, either.
I cupped my hands around my mouth.
“Wes!?”
Still, nothing.
He had to be here somewhere. The cottonwood grove and red obsidian in the river could have been a coincidence. But the Cinnamon’s Pie’s paper bag – that was real evidence. The biggest break in the case so far.