by Paty Jager
Too bad he’d shown Sheridan ways to avoid being tracked. That was going to make following the two a little harder.
When he’d quenched his thirst and his legs no longer shook from his feet pointing the unnatural direction, he followed the bits of mud across the rocky top of the mountain until they disappeared into a marshy gulley of snow run-off.
The two had to know they were the suspects of a murder. Would they head back to civilization, pack up and disappear, or would they keep this wilderness chase going? Knowing how highly Sheridan thought of himself, Hawke had a feeling the man would remain out here until he ran out of food sources. It was the beginning of summer. A rain storm was easy to sit out under a rock overhang or in a cave. The nights were cool but nothing a person couldn’t survive.
He sighed. Hiking all over Hells Canyon and the Seven Devils wasn’t his idea of a fun summer. Now if he had his horse and mule with him, it would be different. Camping and riding all over this area all summer long would be a vacation. Hiking and figuring out how to get more supplies, wasn’t a vacation.
He followed the green grass, slick mud, and broken limbs on the bushes, downhill for a good mile before the tracks veered to the right. They were now far enough south he didn’t think they were headed back to Kirby Creek Lodge. Where would Sheridan go?
Hawke pulled out his radio. “Mathews, copy?”
“Copy.”
“I’m headed south following Sheridan’s tracks. See if you can get information on him and relay it to me. Specifically, how well he knows this area.”
“Copy.”
Hawke turned off the radio to save the batteries. Thunder rumbled in the distance. The air had the scent of rain. He and Dog followed the tracks until he came to a rock outcropping large enough to keep them both dry. Watching the lightning crackle through the sky, growing closer as the thunder rumbled around them like being inside a drum, Dog ate a biscuit and Hawke a bag of jerky. Rain poured from the sky as they bedded down. The rain would either help them or hinder them, they wouldn’t know which until the morning.
«»«»«»
The sun lit up the rocky cliff wall across the gorge from their dry bed. Hawke rolled up the sleeping bag, wishing he had a hot cup of coffee. The damp air and drop in temperature during the night had his bones aching. If he didn’t enjoy the outdoors so much, he’d say he was too old for this. As the oldest Game Warden in Wallowa County, he should have been taking all the easy assignments. Like giving talks at conferences. He snorted. Look what that got him into. But he wouldn’t give up this job until he was too old to sit a horse and follow tracks.
He tossed a biscuit to Dog and ate a granola bar. Even a greasy breakfast at the Rusty Nail sounded good this morning. The granola bars and jerky were getting old. He had enough to last him two more days. After that he’d have to find a way to get more supplies.
“Let’s see if we can find them,” he said to Dog as he shouldered his pack. He didn’t have any idea how far behind the two they were. Judging by the mud yesterday, he believed to be only an hour behind. The unknown was whether they’d stopped as soon as he had to wait out the storm and sleep.
He continued the direction the tracks had been headed before the rain. Any place that formed a gulley, water had rushed through, wiping away any trace of who or what had traveled ahead of them.
Dog sniffed the ground and dug with a paw. A wrapper appeared. Hawke grabbed the plastic, dumped the crumbs of jerky into his palm, and fed it to Dog. “Good job.” This had been ground into the dirt to hide it.
He studied the ground and spotted tracks fading in the mud. The tracks led to a rocky area.
Hawke crouched beside the rocks and studied the surface. Water sat in small puddles in indentions in the rocks. Some of the puddles had water splashed around the edges with muddy drops.
Following the trail was slow until the sun began to dry things up. At noon, Hawke sat on a rock and pulled out the radio.
“Hawke to Mathews,” he spoke into the radio.
“Mathews. Location?”
Hawke glanced around. “I’d say four miles southwest of you. I haven’t looked on a map, just been following tracks. They’ve gone up to the tops of ridges and back down in gulleys.”
“That doesn’t help us find you.” The man sounded tired.
“I’ll let you know exactly where I am when I have them in sight. Any information about Sheridan?” Hawke knew there had to be a connection between White and Sheridan, and now, possibly the woman, though she could just be a hostage because she saw Sheridan shoot White.
“They are still digging into Sheridan. You should have everything they know about the woman in the files given to you.”
“Copy.” Hawke switched the radio off and pulled the files out of his pack as he drank water and snacked on more jerky.
The files on Tonya Cox said she was an honor student at her high school and later at college where her major was journalism. Hawke peered the direction the tracks pointed. Had she befriended White to get a story and now was being held hostage by Sheridan? He wouldn’t know the truth until he caught up to them.
Hawke pulled out the map to see where he was and how he could get more supplies. They were heading south. They were close to Saw Pit Saddle and his vehicle. Though it would do him little good. He didn’t keep food in the truck, and he didn’t have time to run to a store. The command station was probably still set-up there, but he doubted they’d have supplies for someone backpacking. If the two continued south, he might be able to make a detour to the Sheep Creek Cabin on the Snake that the Fish and Wildlife Troopers used to stay overnight when patrolling the river. There would be some provisions there.
He folded the map, finished off a bottle of water, and shoved to his feet. Shouldering his pack, Hawke whistled to Dog and they continued following the tracks.
Chapter Eight
The gray of dusk settled over the small gorge Hawke picked to spend the night. He’d discovered several scuffed marks as if the two he followed had fought. The thought Sheridan would be physical with the woman, Hawke now believed was a hostage, made his anger boil.
If there had been more moonlight to use to follow the trail, he would have continued. But trying to sneak up on them with a flashlight would be hard to do.
He would get up as soon as there was light in the morning and push hard to catch up to the two. Once he and Dog ate the last of the food, he turned on the radio.
“Hawke to Mathews or anyone on this frequency.”
“This is Mathews. We are down on the river by Hells Canyon Dam waiting to hear from you.”
“I’m beginning to believe the woman is a hostage. There have been signs of the two struggling. I plan to get close enough tomorrow for a visual. They are staying away from all trails and places where they might be seen.” He sighed. They had been going up and down the mountains when they could have been travelling the ridges.
“Do you know your location? There’s still a helicopter flying in daylight.”
“I’m on the west side of McCatron Ridge. I’d appreciate a copter dropping rations to me tomorrow, including dog biscuits, if they see me.”
“Copy.”
Hawke turned the radio off and stared at Dog. “We have to catch them soon. We can’t keep following them all over Hells Canyon.”
He settled in for the night with Dog by his side. He set his watch to wake him at four. There would be enough light to see the tracks and possibly catch up to Sheridan.
«»«»«»
Golden rays of sun lit the side of the gorge as he and Dog crept up toward the pair he’d been following.
“Stay!” he whispered to Dog as he slipped out of his pack and used the cover of boulders to move closer to the two arguing people.
“Just let me go. That guy you say is following us will get me out of here,” the woman, Ms. Cox, said.
Sheridan laughed. “He’ll call in someone to come take you, but he will keep following me. I’d rather have you with me as leve
rage.”
“You mean to kill if the need arises? I saw what you did to Felix. I know you’d rather kill me than drag me around.”
Hawke moved closer. The woman’s hands were bound in front of her. Interesting. They hadn’t been when the two were scaling the ledge. What had changed between them since the cave? He’d believed she was working with Sheridan the way the two had scurried away.
Sheridan picked up the shotgun. A revolver was shoved into the waistband of his pants. “If you keep holding me up, I wouldn’t hesitate to leave you here for the bears and cougars to eat.”
The woman stared at him before grasping the straps of a pack with her bound hands and carrying it in front of her.
Hawke put a hand on his Glock. He didn’t like shootouts. Hadn’t been in one for years. The woman was between him and Sheridan. The man had shown no remorse about anything, which meant he’d have no qualms in shooting the woman to get Hawke.
The thump of a helicopter approaching captured Sheridan’s attention. “Get in the trees!” he shouted at the woman.
She took her time.
Hawke knew the copter was looking for him to drop his supplies. When Sheridan headed to the trees, Hawke stood up on the boulder and waved his arms. It not only signaled the helicopter but it gave him a chance to see that the woman was not near Sheridan.
He jumped off the boulder and headed to the woman.
Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth. He clamped a hand over her mouth while circling her waist with his other arm. “I’m a friend. Come.” With a hand on her elbow, he led her back the direction he’d come.
“Tonya? Where’d you go?” Sheridan called just above a normal tone. His voice was only about ten feet away.
“Hurry,” Hawke whispered. He grasped the woman’s arm and pulled her around behind a boulder.
“Boom!” The echo of the shotgun ricocheted off the walls of the gorge. Rock on the top of the boulder shattered and rained on them.
Tonya shrieked.
“Shh.” Hawke whispered and pressed her against the boulder. “You stay here. I’ll see if I can get around him.”
She stared at him wide eyed.
“Stay.” He stepped to the side of the boulder and peeked the direction the shot came from.
Sheridan peered down the barrel of the shotgun pointed at Hawke.
A bundle fell from the sky five feet in front of Sheridan. The gun went off, blasting the bundle of supplies. He glanced up and headed for the trees.
Hawke ran to his pack and pulled out his radio, dialing in the helicopter. “This is Hawke. Did you get eyes on Sheridan?”
“Copy. He’s headed down the gorge like something’s chasing him.”
“Keep him in sight and let the others know his coordinates. I have the woman. I’ll bring her to Sheep Creek Cabin for pickup.”
“Copy.”
Hawke flicked the switch and tucked the radio into his pack before grabbing it and walking to the boulder where he’d left the woman.
She stood, flat against the boulder, Dog baring his teeth in front of her.
“Dog, sit.” Hawke walked over to Ms. Cox. “Hold out your hands.”
She did.
He pulled his knife out of his boot and cut the parachute cord wrapped around her wrists. It was an item he kept in his pack for the occasional need to belay down to someone who’d fallen. It appeared Sheridan was using White’s well-provisioned pack.
“You saw Sheridan kill White?” he asked, walking over to the supplies the helicopter had dropped.
“Why else do you think he was dragging me all over these mountains?” She walked over and stared down at him. Her expression held nothing but contempt.
“He wasn’t dragging you when you two left the cave. You were following him just fine. It wasn’t until yesterday, I noticed you weren’t getting along.” He unbuckled the canvas pack and looked up.
Her arms were crossed as she glared at him. “I wasn’t going along with him because I wanted to. He kept threatening to kill me, and I have no idea where we are.”
He raised an eyebrow. “From your file it says you grew up in Riggins and hiked these trails a lot with your uncle.”
She spun around, wiping her eyes. “I don’t like to talk about my uncle.”
While Hawke didn’t like to deal with women when they were crying, he wasn’t a pushover either. “Why didn’t you try and get away from Sheridan?”
Ms. Cox glared at him over her shoulder. “Because he threatened to kill me.”
He studied the woman before he pulled supplies out of the canvas pack and shoved them into his backpack. No more jerky. They sent him freeze dried food that needed water to be cooked. He shook his head. The only things that didn’t require preparation were the granola bars and crackers with cheese. He shook his head. Who put this together?
“Hand me your pack.” He held a hand out toward the woman.
She glanced at the open bundle at his feet before walking over and placed the small pack next to his. “How did they know to find you here?”
“The same way I knew where you were.” He wasn’t going to tell her he had given them directions. Best she thought the air surveillance knew their every move. He closed the packs and handed hers back to her.
“Come on. I’d like to get to the Sheep Creek cabin before dark.” He rolled up the canvas the supplies had been in, tied it to the top of his pack and slid his arms through the pack’s straps.
“Dog!” he called. The animal burst around a boulder and Ms. Cox flinched.
“Did the bear come in the cave the other day?” he asked, heading down the side of the cliff. He’d be glad to go straight to the cabin and not trek up and down every canyon, gorge, and crag they came to.
“Bear?”
He glanced at the woman. She handled the pack with ease. Definitely a seasoned backpacker as her file had stated. “The bear that was headed to the cave White was shot in.”
“I didn’t see a bear. Only Sean. He stepped into the entrance and before I knew what happened, a gun went off, Felix fell, and Sean yelled at me to get my pack and dragged me out of the cave and along that ledge.”
Hawke stared forward, watching his step and replaying what he’d seen and heard that day. He hadn’t processed whether it was the shotgun that went off or another gun. But if what the woman said was true, Sheridan had to have a gun with him when they were tracking. While it wasn’t uncommon for a tracker to have a carry permit, why had Sheridan kept the weapon hidden from him?
Now Sheridan had the shotgun and a handgun. He’d seen the two. From what Ms. Cox said, the handgun Sheridan said White and the woman had must have been left in the cave with the body. If not, either Sheridan had three weapons, or his traveling partner had one of the handguns.
If that were true, why hadn’t she used it on Sheridan to get away?
«»«»«»
The first rest they took, Hawke snatched Ms. Cox’s pack and dug through it.
“What are you looking for?” she asked. “You know what food you put in my pack.”
“I’m not looking for food.” He finished his inspection and handed the pack back to her.
“Did you think I had a gun? If I had, I would have used it on that bastard Sean. He’s a backstabbing...” Her voice faded.
“It seems you know him better than just being his hostage.” Hawke handed her a granola bar.
She shook her head. “No. I know his type. All he did was brag about how he could lose you and that he was a better tracker.” She studied him with narrowed brown eyes. “He acted like you were some kind of tracking guru.”
Hawke shrugged. “Don’t know anything about that.” He sipped from his water bottle and put it in the side pocket of his pack. It appeared the woman didn’t know he was in law enforcement. Best to keep it that way. “Let’s go.”
“Will there be someone to take me out of here when we get to the cabin you’re talking about?” Ms. Cox walked alongside him down the ridge angling towar
d the Snake River in the distance.
“Yes. I’m hoping by the time we get there the authorities will have picked up Sheridan.” Unless the man had evaded the helicopter earlier in the day. If that happened, then he and Ms. Cox could be targets. The only eyewitness to Sheridan’s killing of White was walking alongside him. And he was the only one who knew Sheridan had gone to the cave. Mathews only knew what Hawke had told him. It wouldn’t hold up in court. He and Ms. Cox had to make it out of here alive to testify against Sheridan.
Chapter Nine
They had less than a mile to reach the Sheep Creek Cabin when Dog growled.
“What do you hear?” Hawke asked his vigilant friend.
Dog looked to the right. The hair down his spine stood up and his tail quivered.
“Get behind me,” Hawke said, pulling his Glock from the holster under his open shirt. He scanned the sides of the gorge where they followed Sheep Creek down to the Snake River. The Larkspur and Paintbrush were in bloom farther up. Here they’d been trudging through brush and around poison ivy. They’d had one encounter with a rattlesnake, but once he’d discovered they didn’t plan to harm him, he’d moved on.
It would be easy for someone to sneak up on them crouching in the brush.
He listened.
Nothing.
Not a sound from any birds or scraping of branches on clothing.
It was eerily quiet.
“What’s wrong?” Ms. Cox whispered.
The hair on the back of his neck tingled. The woman scrubbed at her arms as if her hair was also bristling.
He’d only felt this feeling one time before in his life. “Put your back to mine. If you see anything move, tell me.”
She backed up to him. Hawke snapped the leash he had dangling from his pack to Dog’s collar. “Easy boy.”