Madeline was in bed, wondering if tonight she would finally get some sleep, when the phone rang. "The kids went up to the old line shack this morning," Jon said. "It looks like they decided to stay all night." He sounded as if the children did something like this every week.
"Oh, Jon, did they go alone?"
"Well, yes, but I wouldn't worry if I was you. Jace may still be a kid, but he's a sensible, responsible kid. And you know Denny--he's real protective of the littles."
Madeline couldn't believe Jon was being so calm about the situation. "What if...?"
Jon said, "I figure it'll do 'em good to stay up there. Maybe they'll get cold and hungry enough that they won't pull a fool stunt like this again."
Her belly clenched. "But-- but--"
"Hey, Linnie, it's okay. They'll be safe up there, and in the morning, when I go up and get 'em, they'll wish they'd spent the night in their own little beds."
She was partially soothed by the amusement in his voice. "So you're going to teach them about suffering the consequences of their actions the hard way?" She didn't approve of her babies having quite this strong a lesson, but if Jon wasn't worried, she'd try not to be.
But what if...? Her vision wavered and her knees gave way. She was only dimly aware of the cool oak floor as she collapsed onto it. NO! Not my children! Jesse is gone. Isn't that enough?
"Linnie, listen to me!" Jon's voice came from the receiver, now lying on the floor beside her. "The kids are all right. Do you hear me?"
She picked up the phone, put it back to her ear with a trembling hand. "I'll be there as soon as I can," she said, struggling to make her still-rubbery legs obey.
"You're not goin' anywhere but to bed, you hear?" His voice slowed her panic. "Come first light, I'll be riding up there to bring 'em down. And it'll be a long time before any of 'em wants to go on an adventure again."
"Jon, what if--" She didn't know what horrible situation she feared, but she knew her children were in danger. Terrible, life-threatening danger.
"Linnie, you just listen to me for a minute, okay? I'll admit right now Jace wasn't too bright, taking the littles off like this, but I guarantee he's takin' good care of them. Do you believe he'd ever deliberately put them into danger? Any of them?"
Madeline had to deny the possibility. Both Jace and Denny were good boys, mature and responsible for their ages. She allowed herself to be convinced that the only danger facing her children was a mild discomfort. "And if I know the boys," Jon said, "they'll have taken plenty of food. They might get a little cold, though, because we brought the blankets down to be washed and haven't taken them back up to the line shack again."
"But they're so little," she protested, her fright almost reduced to apprehension. "What if they get scared, all alone up there?"
"Then they'll not be so ready to go along with Jace next time," Jon said. "You know those three littles will do anything he suggests."
Yes, she knew. More than once she'd felt another hundred hairs go white when Ginger or Kyle related one of their adventures, all of them courtesy of Jace's fertile imagination. "I don't like it," she said, not yet willing to share Jon's confidence that a night alone in the mountains would be good for her babies.
"Linnie, if I thought for a minute that those kids were in any danger at all, I'd ride up there tonight, but I don't. I'll be on the trail at first light, and they'll be home in time for lunch."
She drew a shaky breath. "Promise?"
"I promise. And they'll all be eatin' standing up," he said.
Madeline didn't feel like laughing, but she couldn't help a smile. "Be my guest." Jon had never laid a hand on any of the children, although he'd often threatened to. She had a hunch that there had been times Denny, at least, would have far rather had a spanking than some of the more novel punishments Jon assigned. It had taken him much of last summer to reduce a fallen cottonwood to firewood.
With a few more words of reassurance, Jon said good night. "I'll call you when I get 'em back down," he told her. "Probably along about noon."
He hung up, and Madeline was alone with her fears. No amount of telling herself the children were perfectly safe worked. Her fertile imagination painted picture after picture of disaster, and she lay awake, tense and exhausted, unable to still her thoughts or relax her body.
How could she sleep when her children were alone in the mountains? Every coyote's call, every rustle of a night creature would bring them to full and terrified wakefulness.
Sometime in the night thunder rumbled, far off in the mountains. It pulled Madeline out of a restless, nightmare-filled doze. Ginger, absolutely fearless about everything else, was terrified of thunder and lightning.
* * * *
Toward morning it began to rain. Curiously Madeline was soothed by the gentle patter on her roof and she finally slept soundly. That was why, when the phone rang at six twenty-seven, she practically jumped out of her skin. She hit the alarm clock with her usual groping slap, but the ringing continued until she came alive enough to realize it was the phone.
"Did I wake you?" Erik's furry baritone pulled her the rest of the way from sleep.
"Um, yeah." She rubbed her eyes, blurry and tender from too many hours of staring into the dark. Yawning, she pulled herself upright and sat on the edge of the bed. "Sorry. I didn't sleep much last night."
"I'm the one who should apologize. But it was call you now or not until tonight."
"'Sall right. The clock would have gone off in a few minutes." She hoped he was calling in response to her message about Wounded Bear Meadow and not because his lawyer had told him to take her to court over the twins.
The twins! Had Jon found them? Looking at the long shadows across a corner of the bedroom, she realized he couldn't have been on the trail for much over an hour, and it was a good two-hour ride up to the line shack. It was too early to be hoping for word.
"I need to know exactly what's going on with the meadow," he said, pulling her thoughts from her children. "Your message was garbled, because the person who took it didn't write it down. By the time we asked her about it, all she could remember was that you said something about the meadow being sold."
She told him what she knew, including her hope that Jethro would keep his word. "But I don't think he'll wait a day beyond the end of September, because his wife has her heart set on being in Arizona before the first snow," she warned.
"I don't believe there's a problem. We made enough from Trace's concert that Walt thinks we can qualify for some matching funds from a foundation. He's looking into it and will get back to me as soon as he has any news."
"So I can tell Jethro that you'll have the money by September?" If he ever comes home, she added, to herself.
"No, not yet. Give me a few more days. I'm stuck in this trial now, but by the middle of--"
"Trial? What trial?" Was he taking her to court?
"It's a damned nuisance. I'm their expert witness, but they want me to listen...just a minute." His voice faded, as if he'd put his hand over the mouthpiece. She could hear the deep resonance of his voice, but not his words.
Finally, "Look, Madeline, I've got to go. I'll call you this weekend, okay?"
"Okay." She heard him hang up but she sat, holding the receiver, until the angry blatt of an open line reminded her of where she was. What was wrong with her? She should be relieved that Erik hadn't brought up the subject of child custody, and instead she was disappointed that he hadn't even mentioned the twins.
The twins. How long until she could expect to hear from Jon?
Her jump at Erik's call was nothing to the state of her nerves by eleven. Every time her office phone rang, she snatched up the receiver while it was still ringing. Each time her heart leapt up into her throat and her stomach tightened.
None of the calls were from Jon.
Finally, at eleven-fifteen, she called Janine.
"No, I haven't seen him," her cousin's wife said. "But don't worry, Linnie. The littles were on their ponies, and you know how slow they are, compared to a horse."
"But it's been hours," she wailed.
"And if one of the horses threw a shoe, it could be another hour or two." Janine sounded matter-of-fact, and her calm drained the panic from Madeline. If Janine wasn't worried, why should she be? After all, Abby was only a few weeks older than the twins.
"I'll have him call you the minute he gets in, I promise."
"Thanks. I know I'm being silly, but I just can't help it."
"I'd worry too, if I were in town and not able to do anything."
After a few commonplace exchanges, Madeline hung up. She was worrying unnecessarily. The twins were just fine. Jace and Denny had taken good care of them, and by now they were in Jon's capable hands.
But she didn't go out to lunch, because she might have missed Jon's call.
She was growing frantic all over again by the time Jon called at a little after three. "Are they all right?" she cried, as soon as she heard his voice.
"Now calm down, Linnie. You're not doing those kids a bit of good to carry on like that."
"Something happened! It did, didn't it Jon? Something happened to one of them!"
"I don't think so."
"You don't think so? Jon, how could you not know?" Terror burst within her. "Where are my children?" She heard her own voice rise in a shriek on the last word.
"I don't know."
She could not produce a sound, could hardly breathe.
"They weren't at the line shack. I couldn't even find their tracks after they crossed the big meadow up on Skunk Ridge."
"I'm coming out there." She was shoving papers and folders into her desk willy-nilly as she spoke.
"I think you'd better," Jon said. "I've already sent a tracker out. He'll find their trail in no time, but you'll feel better for being here."
Madeline knew he was just trying to reassure her. Tossing the phone in the general direction of its cradle, she grabbed her purse. If only she had brought the car to work today. Even if she ran most of the way, it would take her ten minutes to get home. Another thirty minutes to the Double J.
Oh, God! She needed her riding clothes. Her boots. Thoughts scrambled through her mind while she ran, as fast as her dainty sandals allowed, toward home.
She had to find her children.
It took only moments to tear off her skirt and blouse and replace them with jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. Her boots and slicker in her hand, Madeline was running out the back door when a thought struck her. Erik!
For a moment she hesitated, then went back inside. He deserved to be told. No matter what came of his claim to be the twins' father, he believed he was.
Why hadn't she gotten his number? Frantically she pawed through the slips of paper stuck into her address book.
Aha! A yellow sticky note emerged, bearing the NWT headquarters number. She dialed, pounded her fist lightly on the telephone table while it rang and rang. Finally an answering machine clicked on.
Impatiently she listened to the message. When it ended at last, she said, "This is Madeline Pierson in Garnet Falls, Idaho. Please have Erik Solomon call me. It's an emergency."
She had almost hung up when she remembered that he probably didn't have Jon's phone number. Hurriedly she recited it.
* * * *
Jace was worried. Everything looked so different, with the clouds hanging low over the mountains and the rain making it hard to see more than a half-mile or so.
He'd done the best he could. When the rains began, along toward morning, he'd gotten the others up and had them help him roll up the sleeping bags. He was really glad he'd insisted they all bring their slickers along, 'cause at least they were staying dry, even if they were kinda cold.
"I want to go home," Abby said, her tone very close to a whine.
"Oh, be quiet, Abby," Ginger said. "It's gonna stop raining pretty soon and then we'll be able to explore." She put an arm around her cousin. "Look. It's letting up already."
And it was. Jace was relieved to see that the clouds seemed farther away and not as dark, that the rain was not the heavy curtain it had been.
"I'll bet I could make a fire," Denny said. He showed Jace a handful of dry duff he'd scraped up from under the fallen log that offered them narrow shelter from the storm.
"Not yet," Jace said. "First we gotta see if we can find some dry wood to burn."
At his direction, the children scattered, searching under large shrubs and near the trunks of the tall yellow pines. Jace studied the big log. The hollow under it wasn't big enough to hold them all, if it started raining again, but he'd bet he could stretch the tarp across here...
By the time the others came back with their pitiful collection of firewood, Jace had a snug little shelter waiting for them. They might not stay warm, but he'd keep them dry.
* * * *
"Why haven't you called Wally?" Madeline demanded.
"Because if Bob Wolfe can't find them, I doubt Blanchett could," he snapped. "Look, Linnie, Bob's only been out a couple of hours. He's the best tracker around and he shouldn't have any trouble picking up their trail." He rubbed his hand across his face and Madeline could see his worry and exhaustion. Had he slept at all last night? "And I've got all the other hands out looking, too."
She regretted her outburst, particularly when Jon put his arm around her and led her toward the house. "I wouldn't even be worried, if it weren't for the rain. It's been falling all night, up there." He gestured toward the high peaks to the west. "The creeks will be rising."
Creeks her children would have to cross on small, inexperienced ponies.
"The hell of it is," he said, holding the back door open for her, "is that I can't figure where they could he headed. Jace doesn't know that country, up back of Skunk Ridge. I've always taken him east, over along Pigeon Creek, when we've gone camping together."
"Are any of your maps missing?" She knew Jon had enlarged topographic maps of his ranch, annotated with his observations.
"I hadn't even thought of that. Let's go see." He led the way to his office.
No maps were missing. But they were out of order. "I wonder," Jon said, when they saw which one was on top. "No, he couldn't have."
She saw a familiar map, one that matched the still larger map hanging on her office wall. "Wait a minute," she said. She pointed at the upper right corner, beyond the thick red line marking the Double J north property line. "Wounded Bear Meadow. You know, Jace has been really curious about what Erik's been doing."
"And I lost their tracks in the meadow up on Skunk Ridge," Jon said, pointing. "It's possible."
"How far is it?"
"I don't know. Eight to ten miles," Jon answered. His finger traced a path from the circle around his ranch house to the meadow. Between them, the topo lines were crowded and convoluted, signifying steep, mountainous country.
Were her children lost somewhere in those crags and canyons?
* * * *
Jace didn't see how things could get much worse.
Actually, a lot of their troubles now were Ginger's fault. She'd been the one who talked the hardest to get him to stay and explore instead of starting home like he thought they should.
"We've come all this way," she said, this morning after they'd eaten gorp and oranges for breakfast. "It's not raining any more and I want to see what all the fuss is about. C'mon, Jace, don't be a dope. We can start home this afternoon."
So he'd given in, without much argument. It was what he wanted to do, anyway. Abby had been the only one who'd really objected, and they all knew his little sister was a girlie-girl, not very tough.
They hiked all the way across the meadow, clear to the bottom of the cliffs on the north side. Denny wanted to go back the long way, but Jace overruled him. "We've got to get started home," he said. "It's gonna be almost dark when we get to the line shack anyhow." He wasn't sure he could find his way home from there in the dark.
Returning along their own trail, Jace learned that creeks could rise a lot in a couple of hours. They had to wade places that had been mostly dry before. Once they had to go a long way to find where the creek was shallow enough to cross. It was a good thing the sun was shining, because they all got really wet.
"I'm cold," Abby whined, as they were squishing across a grassy field that had been dry when they crossed it before.
"Me, too," Kyle said, "and I'm hungry, too."
Jace didn't notice that the sunshine was fading until a bright flash was followed immediately by a deafening crack of thunder. Abby shrieked, Kyle yelped, and Ginger turned as white as snow and bit her lower lip. Within seconds it became almost as dark as night. Great big raindrops pelted them. Then came the biggest hailstones Jace had ever seen. "Sit down!" he yelled at the others. "Put your arms over your heads." He pushed and shoved until they were huddled close together, then he sat with them and tried to hug them all.
The hailstorm lasted a long time. When it finally quit, it didn't matter that they'd been sitting in puddles, because they were all soaked to the skin. A gentle rain was still falling when Jace ordered the others to join hands and follow him. He had to get them back to the horses and headed toward home.
* * * *
A door slammed at the back of the house. "Jon?" It was Janine.
"In here," he answered. "Call Wally," he told Madeline. "Tell him we may need the posse. We'll get back to him as soon as we can, but in the meantime, he should alert them."
"Have you heard anything?" Janine said as she came into the office. "Oh, Linnie, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have left Jace in charge."
Madeline made the call while Jon told his wife of their newest suspicions, then spent the next few minutes assuring Janine she didn't blame her for the children's absence. "If I know my daughter," she said, trying to sound calm instead of scared stiff, "this was all her idea." Somehow, her fear was more manageable when she had someone else to be strong for.
"I'm going to see if I can raise anyone on the radios," Jon said, striding out of the office. Madeline and Janine followed, to end up in the kitchen.
"I'll make some coffee," Madeline said, needing something to do with her hands. If only she could find something to keep her mind busy, too.
For the next two hours, she and Janine worked together in the kitchen. They started bread rising and pulled meat out to thaw. Unless the children were found soon, they'd have a crew of searchers to feed. Their conversation was light, inconsequential. Deliberately so. Madeline knew, if she were to speak of her fears, to bring them into the light of day, that she might lose what little control she had over her emotions.
At eight Jon came in to report that several of the hands had returned with the news that the creeks were indeed rising. They had seen no sign of the children to the south and west of the ranch. It was too dark to go on searching. They'd begin again at first light. Wally Blanchett showed up about then. He stuck his head in to say hello, then followed Jon to the barn.
Janine and Madeline traded looks. Wally wasn't one to smile much, but his expression had been more grave than usual.
The tracker couldn't be contacted, but that wasn't surprising. The two-way radios worked only on line-of-sight, and if he were following a trail along a canyon, he would be completely out of touch.
Rain came again at midnight. Heavy drenching rain, accompanied by rolling thunder and long, jagged lightning bolts. Madeline overheard Wally tell Jon that he was as concerned with falling rocks loosened by the rain as he was with the steadily rising streams. She contained her fear, barely. She refused to go to bed until Jon, rain dripping from the brim of his hat and his temper short, roared at her about midnight.
"Damn it, Linnie! You're not doin' them any good stayin' up all night. Get yourself some rest." He waved his arm toward the ranch yard where volunteers of the Mounted Posse were setting up a communications center. "Everybody else's quitting for the night. It's blacker than Hades out there."
"Don't you tell me what I should or shouldn't do, Jon Pierson! I'm not going to bed until I know they're safe."
"Then stay up, dammit! Tomorrow you won't be worth the rope it'd take to hang you, but don't blame me." He stomped toward the back door.
"Jon," Madeline called, immediately contrite. "You're right. I'll go to bed. Just wake me if you hear anything. Please?"
He nodded before continuing outdoors.
She did sleep, although the muttering thunder and the steady drum of rain on the roof entered into every dream she had. They were dark, terrifying dreams, filled with threat and danger. In many, she saw her children, but they were always just out of her reach. And always in danger.
* * * *
A secretary handed Erik a message slip as he came into the conference room. Call Madeline? An emergency?
He went to an adjacent office to use the phone.
A woman answered and he asked for Madeline, identifying himself.
"Oh, Erik, thank heavens you called. Linnie's frantic."
He had no idea who he was talking to. Then Madeline spoke. "Erik? They're lost!" Her anxiety came over the wires as clearly as her voice. "Jon lost their trail in the dark and everything's flooded. You've got to come home!"
"Lost? Who's lost?" For a moment there was no answer.
"Solomon, Jon Pierson here."
Ah, Madeline's cousin. The rancher. He listened as Pierson told him that the children--his son--was missing, could be in deadly danger. Could be already... No, he wouldn't allow that thought.
"I'll be there as soon as I can," he said, interrupting Pierson's account of what was being done to find the children. He ignored the protest and hung up. One call to the airport and he had a plane chartered, another to the car rental company to pick up his car, and a third to discover that a pilot in New Meadows was already on alert to fly search--as soon as the ceiling raised enough to let him.
He didn't ask if it was all right for him to leave, even though he hadn't yet given his expert testimony. He told, and he didn't care if he was slapped with a contempt charge.
His children needed him.
* * * *
"Dammit, Linnie! You don't have the experience!"
"I don't care! Those are my children out there, Jon Pierson, as well as yours. I'm going to help look for them, and you're not big enough to stop me."
"You just try it, and I'll lock you in your room," Jon said, looking worse than fierce with two days' growth of whiskers caked with mud and his eyes bloodshot.
She wondered if he'd had any sleep at all last night.
"Now, Linnie, we need you here," Wally said, his voice mild and non-argumentative. "Janine can't keep up with sandwiches and coffee for this crew, and it'll be a few hours before the Posse Auxiliary gets here with the chuckwagon."
"You're joking!" Madeline couldn't remember feeling so...so insulted. "You want me to stay here and make sandwiches while my children are out there." She waved a hand toward the north, "Are in danger?"
"Damn straight," Jon growled, slamming his coffee cup onto the drainboard.
"I want everybody to do what he or she's suited to do best," Wally said.
"But I--"
"But you've never spent the hours in the saddle that these folks have," Wally said, jerking his chin to indicate the members of the Mounted Posse who were unloading horses in the ranch yard. "And you don't know these hills like they do." He paused. "Do you?"
She had to admit he was right. "I just want to help," she said, feeling so helpless, so useless.
"Believe me, Linnie, you'll be doing your share, keeping this crew fed," Wally said. "Let's go, Jon. I think I hear the radio."
The two men left the kitchen. Madeline looked at the empty plates, the pile of coffee cups on the counter. Jon was right, although she hated to admit it. She didn't have the experience or the stamina to help with the search.
Damn!
"Good morning, Linnie."
She almost dropped the pile of plates she was taking to the dishwasher. "Amelia!"
"I must be gettin' old," Amelia said, slipping out of a bright blue slicker. "I just don't feel up to spending the day in a wet saddle, so I figured I'd help you and Janine with the food and let the menfolk do the dirty work." She put her arms around Madeline. "They'll be all right, hon. Believe me."
"I keep telling myself that," Madeline whispered, knowing her voice would tremble if she spoke aloud, "but I don't really believe it."
"You've got to. Otherwise you'll fall apart." She patted Madeline's back several times, then released her. "Now, since I'm in here to help, not to fool around, what can I do?"
Swallowing hard, Madeline found that Amelia's briskness gave her strength that Janine's shared apprehension hadn't. "You can load the dishwasher, for a start. I swear, those men took a clean cup every time they came in, all night long."
"Wouldn't surprise me," Amelia agreed, tying an apron around her middle.
"They found Bob Wolfe," Janine said, coming in with a basket full of freshly-gathered eggs.
"Found him? I though he was following the children's trail?" Madeline's fear, contained for a while, burst forth with renewed force.
Janine set the basket on the counter and began sorting the eggs. "I guess you were asleep when his horse came in, about four," she said. "He had a couple of long scratches on one shoulder, looked like he'd hit a sharp rock pretty hard."
"How is Bob?" Amelia said.
"Broken leg," Jon said from the door, "and exposure. He laid out in the rain for about fifteen hours. Linnie, can you set up the big coffeepot out by the radio van? We'll stretch a tarp and set up a table." He was gone again before she could even answer.
"He found the children's tracks before his horse fell with him," Janine said. "They seemed to be headed for Wounded Bear Meadow, all right."
"Then the men will go up there right away?" Surely if they knew where the children were, it was only a matter of hours.
"Some of 'em will, but they're not writing off the other trails up that direction."
Janine brought the fifty-cup percolator out of the basement, and Madeline set about filling it. Perhaps time would go faster if she kept busy.