by Paty Jager
What he wouldn’t give to be closer to hear what was being said.
White and the woman grabbed Sheridan under the arms and hauled him into the shack.
That answered his questions about if the two were there.
Hawke dug into his pack and pulled out the radio.
He dialed in Mathews. “This is Hawke, can you read me?”
“Copy,” Mathews said.
“I found the two. They are in the homestead.” He hesitated to say, he’d lost Sheridan and the fool was now a hostage. He’d wait on that until backup arrived. “I’ll wait here for backup. Should they move out, I’ll follow and let you know.”
“Copy.”
Some static was followed by silence.
“Looks like we make camp here,” he told Dog and found a rock formation to place his pack against and then sit, using the two as a back rest. He studied the building and area through the binoculars and wondered how long it would take backup to arrive and what the two in the shack were doing to Sheridan.
He knew not to try and take on the convicted killer, but Hawke’s curiosity and need to move and not sit still, got the better of him. He waited until just about dark and headed down the gorge with Dog on his heels. He hoped to have a better chance of looking into the shack up close without getting caught like Sheridan.
He’d kept his pack with him and found a spot beside a bush where he stashed the backpack and pulled out the binoculars. As darkness filled the wide crevice and shrouded the shack, he waited for a lantern to illuminate the inside.
An hour passed with the structure remaining dark. Rocks rumbled from the top of the cliff. The ground tremored. Boulders crashed into the back of the shack and shattered the roof.
Hawke grabbed his flashlight and aimed the beam of light at the shack. The back wall and the roof were nothing but rubble. Dust plumed in the air around the structure.
“Dog, stay!” he ordered and ran toward the building. It had to have been White who rolled the rocks down on the building.
He shoved the door open and ran the flashlight beam around the inside of the small one-room shack. Sheridan was tied to a chair, on its side on the floor. A craggy edged rock had the man crushed up against the side wall. If the wall gave way, he’d be buried.
A quick scan of what was left of the building revealed only Sheridan had been in the cabin before the boulders fell. The other two must have snuck out the back somehow and then caused the rock slide onto the building.
“Hawke, that you?” Sheridan asked.
“Yeah. What were you thinking making contact with them? Our orders were to find and keep track of them, not make contact.” He pulled the knife out of his boot sheath and sliced through the parachute cord binding Sheridan to the chair. Then he wound the line around the rock and pulled the hunk of basalt back far enough to get the tracker out.
“I thought I’d find them and report back to you.” Sheridan moaned as he sat up, holding his side with his right hand.
“I had the perfect spot to do the job, and you got yourself blasted with a shotgun.” Hawke felt the man’s legs and arms for breaks.
“It’s just my ribs. Stand me up and wrap them with something.” Sheridan reached out his left arm.
Hawke hauled him to his feet, Sheridan’s groans echoed in what was left of the shack. The flashlight beam revealed the one front wall that was left standing. “I’ve got vet wrap in my pack. Come on. As soon as I get you stabilized, I’m going to look for their tracks.”
“They’re headed north, I know that much.”
Hawke beamed the flashlight toward the door. “Did you tell them I was out here?” He was skeptical about stepping out the door and being met by the blast of a shotgun. If the two stuck around to see what kind of damage they did, they would have seen his flashlight beam bobbing toward the shack.
“I told them I was a hiker who wandered off from my group. I think they bought it.”
“Why did they have you tied up and try to kill you if they believed you?” Hawke was skeptical Sheridan hadn’t told them the cops would find them. He was too boastful to not have said something.
“They said they were going on and that someone would come along and find me. But to make sure I didn’t follow them, they tied me up.”
“And tried to kill you.” Hawke wasn’t pleased with himself. His thought was to send Sheridan out the door first. The boastful tracker’s showing up had to have made the two change their plans. The fact they tried to fake an accidental death meant they weren’t above getting rid of anyone they came across.
“Come on.” Hawke turned off the flashlight, exited the rubble, and led Sheridan over to the bush where he’d left his dog and pack. Both were still there.
“Good boy.” Hawke praised Dog then dug in his pack and came up with the vet wrap he always carried with him. The way the four-inch wide stretchy fabric stuck to itself when stretched, made it the perfect all-purpose item. It covered wounds, compressed sprains, worked to splint breaks and ribs, and would even work to hold items together with a few wraps.
“Get your shirt up, and I’ll wrap your ribs.” Hawke scanned the skyline of the ridge above the cabin. Had the pair gone straight up after causing the slide or did they take off east or west?
He wrapped Sheridan’s ribs. “Let’s get your pack and find a spot for the night. I’ll have to let the authorities know we’ve lost them.”
“We haven’t lost them. I told you. They are headed north.” Sheridan hissed as he twisted, staring into the darkness. “I think my pack’s over there.”
Hawke followed his line of sight. “It isn’t.”
“How do you know?” Sheridan started the direction he’d noted.
“Because I watched you take it off and nearly get your head blown off.” Hawke headed to a rock thirty feet to the right of the one, Sheridan was circling. He picked up the pack. “I’ll carry it tonight, but your ribs better be on the mend tomorrow.”
Hawke headed up the ridge behind the shack. The couple had to have come this way to cause the rock slide. He didn’t care what Sheridan overheard, he wanted to find solid proof of the direction they went. Even though it was dark, he could still find where they’d dislodged the rocks. That would be his starting point in the morning.
“You don’t have to carry my pack,” Sheridan said, but his words were interrupted by catches of breath.
Hawke ignored the man who was making this mission more difficult.
At the top, overlooking the shack, he discovered where the rocks had been dislodged, Hawke radioed Mathews and told him the birds had flown the coop, supposedly heading north. He’d know more in the morning when he found their trail. He rolled out his sleeping bag, leaving Sheridan to roll out his own, and tried to sleep.
He wished there was more moonlight. Then he could find the couple’s tracks and give the Search and Rescue more of an idea where to find them. The tracks always showed the truth. Just because the couple told Sheridan they were going north didn’t mean they were.
Chapter Four
As the sun bathed the basalt rock in pale light, Hawke stretched, made sure Sheridan was still with him, and wandered to a rock to relieve himself. Dog used the same rock. The animal winked at him, and Hawke chuckled.
He peered down the cliff toward what was left of the shack. He could envision White releasing the rock and watching to see what damage had been caused. That meant, the convict knew there was a second person on his trail. And, quite possibly, that Sheridan had been saved. If that were the case, White wouldn’t be heading north, knowing the intruder would tell authorities that was what he had said.
Hawke returned to the small camp and pulled out jerky and his water bottle that would need refilled when they came across a stream. “Did White take the shotgun with him?” he asked Sheridan, who sat up against a rock, sipping on a water bottle.
“Yeah. They each had a pack. White had the shotgun and I thought I caught a glimpse of a handgun.” Sheridan winced as he reached in h
is pack and pulled out a packet of freeze-dried food.
Hawke pulled out the radio, dialed in Mathews and waited for a response.
“Mathews,” a male voice replied.
“I don’t know which direction they are headed yet. I doubt it’s north, and they are armed. They tried to kill Sheridan last night with a rock slide.” Hawke released the button on the radio.
“Copy. We are about two miles from the homestead.”
“I’m on the ridge north of the homestead. You’ll find the building under a rock slide and Sheridan, who was injured.”
The cocky tracker shook his head, stood, and walked over to stand above Hawke. “You won’t find me. I’m going with Hawke.”
Hawke glared at the man. “You need medical care, not hauling your pack all over Hells Canyon.”
“I’m either going with you or following you.” Sheridan glared back at him.
Shit! “Sheridan won’t be waiting for you. He’s too bullheaded to wait for medical care. I’ll try to keep you posted where I’m going so you can stay close behind.”
“Copy.”
Hawke turned off the radio and shoved it into his pack. He rolled up his bed and tied it on. “If you’re so insistent on going, shoulder your pack and let’s find their tracks.”
He wouldn’t cater to the annoying tracker. Sheridan should stay behind and get medical attention. If he refused, it was better to have him where Hawke could see him rather than lagging behind or worse trying to get in front of him and getting caught, again.
Walking slowly back and forth and moving a foot farther and farther from the edge of the ridge, he found traces of what he suspected to be the tracks of the two. He knelt and studied the rocky surface, noticing the faint trace of dirt leading across a three-foot by four-foot slab of rock.
“They’re going that way.” He pointed west, toward the Snake River. The thought of the two armed people headed to the more populated river added to his urgency to find them before they met up with innocent people. They hadn’t known Sheridan was anything other than a lost hiker, and they’d tried to kill him.
“How do you know that?” Sheridan crouched next to him, staring at the rock.
“See the way those bits of dirt make a trail across the rock?” He put a finger beside the first almost triangular shape. “It isn’t dirt put there by the wind. They are in a pattern, like the bottom of a shoe.”
Hawke stood, following the trail that was like a beacon now that he knew what to look for.
“I knew that,” Sheridan muttered behind him. Then started proclaiming he had once followed a trail across a thirty-foot, solid rock, bluff looking for a lost hiker.
A smile twitched Hawke’s lips. The man would never admit he hadn’t seen the trail. Sheridan also couldn’t stop trying to make himself out to be better than Hawke. Having learned long ago the more you boasted the farther you fell, he ignored Sheridan’s words and concentrated on the trail.
He continued across the rock slowly, keeping his gaze on the faint dirt patterns. It disappeared at the edge of a nine-foot-wide rock flow. The pieces in the flow were anywhere from a few inches to nearly a foot in size. The abstract sizes and shapes would be hard to discern where they’d walked. The pieces could have also slid as they were stepped on.
“You go down this side, looking for where they came out. I’ll go down that side.” Hawke and Dog crossed the flow and walked along the side of the rock slide, studying everything that looked out of place to figure out where the two had left the rocky version of a river.
Twenty feet or so downhill, Hawke noticed crushed plants. “Dog, sit,” he commanded and crouched, studying the area around them. Something with feet larger than a hoof or a paw had flattened the lichen growing on the rocks.
He stood and whistled at Sheridan.
The other man stopped and stared at him.
Hawke waved for him to cross the flow and join him. When the man started across, Hawke returned to studying the ground. By the time Sheridan joined them, he’d figured out which way White and the woman had headed.
“Are you sure about this?” Sheridan asked. “This isn’t north.”
“They won’t go north. That’s what you heard. White probably stood on the ridge and watched me bring you out of the shack. He’s not going a direction he mentioned.”
“That makes sense. But what if he didn’t watch and is headed north?” Sheridan opened his water bottle and drank.
“He watched. From what I read in his file, he would have wanted to see his destruction.” Hawke drank the last of his water and followed the sparse trail. Two hours later, he stopped and pulled out a map. “It looks like they are heading for Kirby Creek.”
Lowering his pack to the ground, he dug in the side pocket for the radio. “Hawke to Mathews.”
Static crackled. “This is Mathews.” His voice came in clear.
“I’m approximately two hours from Kirby Creek. I believe that is where the fugitives are headed. Either for the night or to get to the Snake and steal a raft.”
“Copy. Are you familiar with the area?”
“No, why?”
“Kirby Creek Lodge is at the Snake. I’ll notify them there is the possibility of the fugitives coming their way.”
Hawke’s chest tightened with dread. “Tell them not to try and be heroes and to stay out of the way. White has killed before, and I’m sure he would do it again to remain free.”
“Copy. We’re about two hours behind you. We picked up your trail on the ridgeline.”
“I’ll go straight to the lodge and see if I can’t keep people safe.”
“Copy.”
Hawke turned the radio off and shoved it back in his pack. He didn’t like White heading to a lodge. Someone would get hurt, he could feel it in his bones. “Either keep up with me or wait for the others,” he told Sheridan, shouldering his pack and whistling for Dog.
“If everyone stays in the lodge, I bet White will go straight for the boats docked at the river,” Sheridan said, keeping up with Hawke.
Hawke didn’t look for tracks. He was seventy percent sure the fugitive would head for the nearest place he could find a boat. And that was the lodge. “You know as well as I do that there is always one person who tries to be a hero.” He stared over his shoulder at the man who’d gone to the homestead on his own and been caught.
“It’s the first of June. I bet there’s not any families at the lodge yet.” Sheridan said. “But there could be fishermen. The Snake is good fishing all year long.”
He had thought of that. Whether it was only the people who lived there or guests, he had to keep them all safe. With the homestead in pieces, he had a feeling White would try to vanish. To do that, he’d need to get to civilization to either get supplies or to get a new identity. “We can’t do anything for anyone until we get to the lodge.”
Chapter Five
At a creek, Hawke crouched at the edge of the stream, filling his water bottles. Sheridan knelt beside him, filling his bottles and washing his face and hands. The last half mile the other man had lagged behind and was dripping like a fat man in a sweat lodge.
“You sure you don’t want to wait here for Mathews? I bet they have a medic with them.” Hawke added the purification drops to his three water bottles, wishing he had one ready he could drink. He popped a hard candy in his mouth.
“I’m not stopping. I want this bastard more than you do. He tried to kill me.” Hatred flashed in Sheridan’s eyes before he glanced down at the bottle in his hand and added purification drops.
Hawke saw more than anger for a man who’d made an attempt on his life. Hawke became suspicious of Sheridan’s sneaking off and barging into the shack by himself. Was there history between White and Sheridan?
There had been little mentioned about White’s family in the files given to Hawke. He’d dig into that when they had the lodge secured.
“If they are following Kirby Creek, we should get to the lodge before they do. That is if you can keep
up this pace.” Hawke shouldered his pack and headed straight down the rocky gulley the small creek followed.
Less than half a mile and the water disappeared. Hawke veered to the left to head in a more westerly direction. They topped a rocky peak. The lodge buildings were clustered along the bank of the impressive Snake River. Whether he rode in a boat on the wide swift river or walked along the shore, he felt the life and energy of the water.
He’d traveled many times up and down the river and had passed by the lodge. Until Mathews had mentioned it, he’d forgotten it would be a place that White could find a boat.
He pulled out his binoculars and scanned the area from the lodge toward the rocky peaks behind. He spotted two people walking along what had to be Kirby Creek.
“Come on. I see them. We’re going to have to hurry to get there before they do.” As he started down, he spotted people hurrying toward the boats. It looked like everyone was evacuating the lodge and taking the boats with them. Good. Then he could sit back and see what White and the woman did.
“What are they doing?” Sheridan asked.
“Taking the boats to safety. I hope everyone left.” Hawke and Dog took the direct path down to the lodge. The new spring grass was softer on dog’s feet than the rocks they’d been scaling most of the day. Hawke navigated around bushes and rocks on his way to the bottom.
Once there, Hawke waited for Sheridan to catch up as he surveyed the best place to watch and see what White and the woman did when they reached the lodge.
He decided to stay up on a slight rise to the northeast of the buildings.
“This way,” he said to Sheridan, moving to their right.
“Where are you going? White will be down at the buildings.” Sheridan stopped, in full sight of anyone trying to sneak up on the lodge.
“Get your ass down and over here!” Hawke glared at the man. “We aren’t to apprehend, only keep tabs on them.”
“But there’s two of us. We can take White.” Sheridan walked to the spot Hawke had picked to watch the lodge.