We were home several days before the deer came down to our property. They grazed on the lawn and wandered past the corral. I was very excited but let them be in peace this time. I wanted them to know they were welcome at our home and that no one would hurt them. I would stalk them later, after they were used to coming and felt comfortable with people present. After Rusty went to work and I’d finished a few chores, I put some trail mix in the day pack, called Shadow to me and set out following the deer. I wanted to see where they came from and where they went. It was important to me because I wanted to study the route and see if this was a regular thing they did or if that morning had just been a fluke. I followed the tracks out the back of our property across the rolling, juniper covered hills and up into the forest. As the desert slowly gave way to forest I settled in, becoming more focused on what I was doing. The shade closed in around me and I studied the trail the deer had left behind. On and on it went until at last I saw the tan backs of deer up ahead. I’d caught up with the herd but didn’t want to scare them so I fell back, just watching. They were still on the move but they were slow about it, grazing as they went. I ate trail mix as I went along and was so absorbed in what I was doing that I didn’t noticed when the day had passed.
The sun was setting and I wondered how far I’d tracked from home. I wasn’t worried about getting back because I could just follow the tracks, but I thought I better do it while I could still see them. I turned back and had no trouble following the deer tracks, but noticed I did have trouble finding my own tracks. It reminded me that I still had a tracking challenge from Chase to deal with, and wondered how hard he would be to track. I quit backtracking the deer and began backtracking myself for practice. I now realized that I had been hiding my footprints as I walked and had to look carefully to find them. Darkness fell and as the tracks became more difficult to see, I admitted to myself that I wasn’t going to track my way back that night. Unsure of the distance, I started walking, heading in the direction of the house. I hadn’t realized how far I’d gone. I had probably been tracking at a slow walk for several hours and could be four miles from home. So how far did I still have to go? I didn’t know but I wasn’t worried. I was actually more irritated with myself for losing track of time. Rusty would be home now and I should have started cooking dinner hours ago.
I scanned the homes below looking for familiar lights, but I didn’t see any. I’d left home during daytime and couldn’t remember if I’d turned on any lights so my house could be totally dark. Heading for the lights that were visible seemed like a reasonable way to find the road so I walked in that direction. Half an hour later I made my way around a house and stumbled up onto a road but I wasn’t sure if it was mine or another one. There were no street lights out there in the hills and I had to stay on the road by feel. At last the one road I was following intersected with another and I was able to read the signs. Lost Hills Road and Juniper Road. I turned down Lost Hills Road, amused by the double pun, and eventually spotted my house in the distance with the Jeep and the Explorer parked in the driveway. I snuck around the house trying to determine where Rusty was so I could get in without a fuss. He was talking on the phone in his office so I snuck around back and silently slipped in the back door. I walked without a sound through the house and then peeked in his office door. I came up behind him and placed my hands around his shoulders.
“Sorry I’m late,” I said quietly, not wanting to interrupt his conversation. I turned to go fix some dinner but Rusty held onto my hand and drew me onto his lap. He handed me the phone.
“Good luck, kid, you’re gonna need it,” said Lou.
“Why? What did I do this time?”
“I’m glad you’re home. I’m going to bed.”
“Okay, good night.”
I snapped the phone closed and handed it to Rusty. He took it from me and then wrapped his arms around me.
“Rusty, you can’t worry every time I turn around. I tracked the deer. I lost track of time. That’s all.”
“You can’t track at night. It’s been dark for three hours.”
“It has? I knew it was getting dark but, by the time I noticed, I was way out in the hills. I tried to track my way home but it got too dark so I was just looking for the house. It just took me a while to find my way home.”
“You should leave a note or something.”
“I thought I’d be gone an hour or two. If I left a note and said I’d be gone for an hour or two and then didn’t come home till after dark you’d just be more worried. Look, you knew I wasn’t on a call because I took Shadow. You knew I couldn’t have gone far. I left the Jeep. So I had to be close by.”
“Tell me when I should start worrying. You can’t. The longer I know you the quicker you get into trouble.”
“How much trouble could I get into within walking distance of home? What’s the worst that could happen?”
“You could have been attacked by a mountain lion.”
“And what are the chances of that happening?”
“To anybody else? One in a million. To you? Fifty fifty.”
“Very funny, I was tracking mountain lion bait and I still didn’t see a mountain lion.”
The next day Rusty came home with a magnetic white board. He posted it on the refrigerator.
“When you plan your day just write notes. Would it bother you to just write down your plans? I know you get distracted and I know you get stuck and unplanned things happen. I’d just like some clue what’s going on.”
The next day I dutifully wrote, “Backtracking mountain lion bait @ 2 PM,” and then set out. This time I would be more conscientious and planned to keep track of the time. I followed the deer trail backwards to see where they had started from when they came to our house. I knew deer didn’t exactly have a circuit that they walked but I also knew they were creatures of habit. If there was a meadow, a spring or a pleasant place to bed down on their back trail I wanted to know about it so I could meet them there some time. I also wanted to be able to take Rusty there. It would help his scouting abilities immensely if he could stalk deer on his own. So on I went. The tracking was easy. A small herd of deer leaves a lot of tracks. I followed the trail back into the woods. The deer had investigated several neighboring houses before they had reached ours. When the deer left the houses and their trail came down out of the pines I was rewarded with a very well grazed clearing in amongst the pine trees. Deer tracks were everywhere. Grasses were bent this way and that from deer wandering as they grazed. I’d hit the jackpot and had accomplished my goal. Well, the first step of my goal. I still didn’t know when I could find the deer at the clearing but at least I knew they frequented the area. I arrived home and wrote on the board, “Mission accomplished,” and drew a smiley face.
The white board came in handy. On Thursday I wrote, “Leave the Explorer, I need to buy wood.” And so on Friday I had the SUV and drove into town to buy supplies to start my new agility course. I began with things that were quick to make, hurdles and jumps, but I bought some lumber for a bigger project too, the A-frame. I brought all the wood home and stacked it in the barn next to the table saw. I left the plywood in the truck so Rusty would help me unload it. I didn’t mind unloading it but I knew he’d rather help me. I spent the afternoon happily making a jump for the agility course. I had one jump finished and ready for paint by the time Rusty came home.
On Friday I wrote on the board, “Backtracking mountain lion bait again tomorrow, want to come along?” And he wrote next to it, “Sure, but not before dawn.”
Saturday we slept in. It didn’t really matter when we left for the clearing since we weren’t sure when the deer would be there. We took a leisurely shower, which meant we ended up back in bed and then back in the shower. We ate a leisurely breakfast, packed up the trail mix and headed out.
“You’re not tracking the deer,” Rusty observed as we walked along.
“That’s because I know where they came from. I found a clearing that they like and I want to find out when they are there. So we are just trying to pinpoint their habits. We don’t need to track them. If you want to track something track me. You wanted to learn how to do that anyway.”
“I can do it when you let me but you forget and hide your tracks.”
“If you really want to track me you’re going to have to get used to me hiding my tracks. I can’t help it. It just comes naturally to me. I do occasionally leave a trail on purpose. I did in Minnesota and I did when I was on the Troy search. A good reason will make me leave a trail but, you’re right, I do tend forget and hide my tracks.”
We came upon the clearing cautiously so we wouldn’t startle the deer but they weren’t there. I inspected the area carefully, examining the grasses for recent grazing. I found the edges of the grass had a serrated edge; a definite sign the deer had grazed there. Some edges were dry, from previous days, and some were more freshly cut. Maybe this was an early morning stop. I showed Rusty the grasses, explained my findings, and then pointed out all the other signs that indicated this was a favorite stopping place for the herd.
“Since the deer aren’t here and there’s nothing to stalk, stalk me,” I suggested.
“You want me to stalk you?”
“Yeah, sneaking up on me at home is easy. Carpet absorbs the sound and walls block noise. If you really want to learn how to sneak up on me this is the perfect place to test it. You have dry grasses and branches to work your way through. Do you remember what I taught you about walking silently and stalking?”
“Yeah, but it’s been months.”
“I can’t hear as good as a deer. I’ll sit at that end of the clearing and you start from this end. If I can hear you I’ll raise my hand so you know to be more careful.”
“Cass, this is silly.”
“You want to go scouting with me? You need to move silently. It might feel weird trying to sneak up on me but you’re used to simulated exercises from academy. What’s the difference?”
I sat at one end of the clearing with my back to him while he started out crouched in a stalk. Little telltale noises told me he wasn’t comfortable. After analyzing them for a minute I realized he was leaning too far forward.
“You can stand upright to do this. You don’t have to crouch to be quiet.”
“How did you know?” he asked
“It’s in the way you feel with your feet as you walk. If you feel something beneath your feet shift until you find a place that’s silent to step. Take your time.”
There was a moment’s silence while he adjusted his attitude and then he started forward again. He was clumsy until he got into the flow of it, but then he began improving and continued for several steps before I raised my hand again. Then a few steps later I heard a similar noise from a different direction. I lifted my hand.
“You did not hear that,” he said.
“You’re right, what I heard was off to my right and you’re coming in from the left. Now be quiet.”
I heard the tall grass brush his jeans and raised my hand. Rusty stopped. Several more steps passed before I raised my hand again. Then I heard another noise off to my right and I tried to ignore it to better concentrate on Rusty. I raised my hand a few more times before sensing he was right behind me and then I turned around.
“Hey, you’re doing better!” I said earnestly. “Do you want to try another exercise?”
“What kind?”
“Circle this meadow without me seeing you.”
“You think I can do that?”
“You know the basics. Stay hidden or freeze when I look around, move when I’m distracted. Stay silent.”
“You don’t have anything to distract you and you’ll know where I start.”
“I’ll give you a head start so you can find a different starting point and I can do something to provide a distraction. I can weave a mat out of grass while you try it.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No, you need the practice if you want to go scouting with me.”
“When would we ever need to go scouting together?”
“There have been times when you wanted to go but I wouldn’t let you. I wanted to scout out the canyon when Troy was up there but you wouldn’t let me go alone. We could have gone together and found what he was looking for. I would have taken you with me if you had more practice. If we had scouted out the canyon we could have avoided the whole search and stand off. But if you don’t want to that’s okay. I’ll just keep scouting alone.”
He stood there, not wanting to play along but knowing I was completely serious. If he wanted to go into situations with me he would have to prove himself and the only way to prove himself was to try.
“All right,” he said with a resigned sigh, “what do I have to do for this one?”
I went into the trees around the clearing and picked up four pinecones.
“These are shots. If I see you I’ll throw a pinecone your way. Four shots and you’re out. I’ll give you a minute to find a starting place. Find it quietly or I’ll know where you are anyway.”
I sat in the clearing and started finding grasses for my mat. He went off to find a starting place. The clearing was not big, maybe half an acre. It was just a short exercise but it was good for him to practice. I was probably more likely to spot him than some unsuspecting criminal would be but more was on the line when we were on the job too. Then the shots were real and they were aimed.
Glancing up I was pleased that I couldn’t see him right away. I picked long grasses and began weaving my mat, looking up when I thought I could catch him off guard. I looked behind me in case he had chosen an odd starting point. I scanned the woods around me. No Rusty, good! I weaved some more, glanced around, pretended to go back to my weaving and looked up instead. I perceived a movement off to my left and concentrated on that area. I glanced down as if to find more grass but picked up a pinecone instead. I located the tree I thought he would hide behind and glanced down again as if to weave. Then I reacted as if hearing a noise behind me and turned. There was that movement again. I looked carefully hoping he would stay hidden while I watched. Part of this lesson was stealth and part of it was patience. When I was convinced he wouldn’t move until I looked down, I went back to my weaving.
I heard a twig snap and silently laughed at the following leaf crunches as he tried to correct his walk. I threw a pinecone in the direction of the noise then glanced around the circle noting places where he would run into trouble. There were some very wide gaps between cover. He’d either have to go deeper into the woods or be pretty sneaky to get by me. I was hoping he’d go deeper into the woods. I’d catch a movement here and a noise there but Rusty was doing better than I’d ever expected. I let him get away with little mistakes, though, and only threw a pinecone at him when he really truly gave himself away. When he got a pinecone he knew he deserved it and he got nearly around the circle when the last pinecone landed at his feet. He came out of hiding reluctantly.
“So, now it’s your turn,” he said.
I handed him my little grass mat.
“Will you finish it for me?” I asked.
He looked at the mat. “Not if you want it to stay in one piece,” he replied.
“Do you really want me to make the circle? I can, but it’s getting late and we still have a few miles to walk before we get home.”
We headed for home idly backtracking ourselves. Rusty’s tracks were plain and easy to read. Mine were subtle. In fact, mine were way too big. I stopped and examined the footprints. They were obviously moccasin footprints and clearly went in the right direction but Rusty had been following and occasionally the moccasin prints were over Rusty’s. They were unmistakably too long and too wide to be mine.
“Look at this,” I said, pointing. “What’s wrong with these footprints?”
Rusty looked. “You weren’t hiding your tracks. That’s odd.”
“It’s not just odd, they’re not my tracks.”
He looked at me.
“What do you mean, not your tracks? Who else do we know who would be out here on our trail in moccasins?”
“It’s still not my track. Look.” I placed my foot inside the track and put my weight on it. I pulled my foot back clearly showing my small print within the lines of the larger one. I put my hands on my hips and looked around at the junipers surrounding us. Not many places to hide. “Chase Downing!” I called. “You can come out now.”
Chase Downing was my tracking teacher at academy and he was an old friend of the Michaels family. He had served on the same force as Rusty’s father, Bill. Chase considered tracking to be an art, and a dying one at that, so I kind of surprised him with my knowledge of tracking when I met him in academy. Ever since then he had kept tabs on me, through Rusty’s family and police gossip. He was a quiet, secretive man, more tracker than officer. And now, I thought, he was here looking for a challenge.
“Cass, Chase is in San Diego. It would take a national emergency to drag him up here,” Rusty said.
“Or he thought of a challenge for me,” I answered, scanning the area more carefully, then I called out to the junipers, “If you want to get home in time for dinner, you’ll come out. I’m waiting. I can wait here until tomorrow but we’ll get awfully hungry.”
I was going to feel really silly if Chase didn’t come out. But he was the only person I could think of who would have followed us. Nobody else would have cared what we were up to. Any other person would be wearing regular shoes and wouldn’t try to hide their footprints. Chase would have noticed both of our cars at the house and known we went somewhere on foot. He’d have circled the house and then easily found a trail leading away from it. Chase could easily distinguish our most recent trail from the older ones. He’d be curious about what we were up to out in the hills and he’d be sneaky enough to try and stay hidden. I only regretted taking so long to notice the difference in my tracks. I should have caught that right away. I was slipping. Of course I had to give myself a little slack, though, because there was no reason to think anybody else was out here. So why question the trail at all?
“How curious are we?” I asked Rusty. “I can track him back to the clearing, then probably around it. He could lead us in circles forever if he wanted to, but I don’t have the patience for this. He can only play games with us if we play along.”
“So, game time? Or dinner? I vote for dinner, except for one small problem.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“What if it isn’t Chase?”
“I’d bet anything you want to name that it’s Chase. Nothing else makes sense unless we have a very weird neighbor.”
“We’ve never met our neighbors except for Hazel and Wally and they aren’t capable of this.”
“It isn’t a neighbor,” I said. “People like me don’t buy houses like these.”
“You did.”
“Only because of you. You found it. You liked it first. And I’m glad you did. Now that I’ve been here a while I love it.”
“So let’s just go home and if Chase wants dinner then he’ll show up.”
“Okay.”
About the time we walked through the backyard Chase stepped out from the barn.
“You two aren’t much fun.”
“We’ll be more fun after we get some dinner in us,” I told him.
“Good catch on the trail.”
“Thanks.”
He followed us into the house.
“You should lock your house when you go out,” he said. “I read the note on the fridge.”
I should have been mad at him for poking around but I knew he respected our home and hadn’t harmed anything.
“We did lock it. Rusty’s very careful about that. He’s seen enough break-ins to know better. Even way out here where we never see a neighbor, he locks the house.”
“Well, then you should burglar proof it. And teach Shadow to bark at strangers.”
“Shelties usually bark at everything. If he didn’t bark at you consider yourself lucky. He even barks at me.”
“Yeah, with his tail wagging a mile a minute. Maybe you should get Rusty a Doberman.”
“I don’t think so. One dog is enough. Maybe you should show Rusty how you got in while I start dinner.”
I put some steaks in the microwave to defrost and then wandered to the front windows, curious to see what kind of a car Chase drove. Parked at the curb in front of the house was an old, beat up VW Baja bug. It had oversized tires for off roading, a roll cage front and back with KC lights mounted on a sturdy rack up top. He was all set for the dunes. He hadn’t gone out of his way on an expensive paint job. It was basic VW light blue. A spare tire was bungeed up top. I laughed, I hadn’t been sure what to expect from Chase’s car but somehow the contraption out front seemed right for him.
When the steaks had defrosted I placed them in five minute marinade. I then microwaved three big potatoes until they were baked and scooped out the insides. I mashed them with sour cream, cheese and butter, then added some chives and refilled the skins. Next I cut up a salad and started the grill. Before long we had dinner for three.
“It’s good to see you’ve managed to stay out of trouble for three weeks,” Chase commented.
“Yeah, right,” I replied.
“That didn’t sound like the kind of ‘yeah right’ that means I was right,” he said.
“Well, it all turned out all right at the end. We just kind of had a rough start to our honeymoon. Rusty got some useful survival lessons in. Today’s little exercises in the woods were nothing compared to that. If it had been planned, I would have considered it a great success. Unfortunately, it wasn’t planned.”
By the time I’d brought Chase up on the news it was very late, but I knew when he showed up he’d stay for the night. He challenged me to a tracking contest of some kind and I suspected we’d have his company until I could manage to get away and take his challenge. I showed him the guestroom and where the towels and blankets could be found.
“Chase, what are you going to tell Rusty’s family when you get back to San Diego?”
“I’m going to tell them that you had a great time on your honeymoon and you seem to be doing fine. If they ask me point blank about anything specific I’ll tell them the truth. Do you have a few extra pictures to back up my story?”
“How long will you be here?”
“A few days.”
“We can print up a few for you. I got some nice ones of Rusty that they will like and some that show us at the lake having fun. I wish you could have seen the moose. I can’t wait to see if I got some good pictures of the moose.”
“Did you stalk it?”
“Yeah, but it was in the lake and I didn’t venture into the water. But I snapped a quick picture as it was charging up the bank towards me. That picture is either a blurry piece of scrap paper or it is a really cool picture of a moose filling the whole frame. I’m keeping my fingers crossed on that one.”
“You know why I’m here?”
“Yeah, I can guess. Do you think I can track you if you don’t want to be tracked?”
“I don’t know. Don’t know if I can track you if you don’t want to be tracked either. Got a destination in mind?”
“Let me think about it. Does it have to be someplace I am not familiar with? I’ve been all over these mountains.”
“If you’ve been there before don’t worry about it. Think of a place with differing terrains.”
“I know a place but Rusty won’t be pleased with my choice. It’s a place I have only been to twice. It starts out meadow but there is a trail through it and then beyond the meadows there are rocks or a stream or mountains.”
“Why won’t Rusty like it?”
“Because last time I was there I was being chased by guys with rifles. He still has an aversion to that trail but I think it might be useful for our purposes. I can show it to you on a map. It’s only fair that you know as much about it as I do.”
“How much of it did you see off trail?”
“Not much. I was mostly trying to figure out how to get out of there alive. My decisions were instantaneous and I just dealt with what I met. I didn’t have time to take much notice beyond my immediate needs.”
“We’ll look at it in the morning.”
Breakfast the next morning sounded like an arbitration session.
“No erasing of the trail. The trail you leave is what you are stuck with,” Chase said. “One day to find a camp and set up. It’s got to be defendable. Once we find the camp we will circle it and close in. If you get shot you lose that round. Think of it like an apprehension, only you shoot first.”
“Shoot?”
“Yeah, shoot.”
“You wouldn’t shoot me,” I said.
“Paintball rifles. You ever try paintball?”
“No, but I’m a decent shot with almost anything.”
“Good, so if you get shot you lose that round.”
“Okay. So that means it needs to be physically possible to circle the camp,” I pointed out.
“Why, what did you have in mind?”
“Nothing but if I make camp next to a cliff it would be pretty hard to circle it.”
“You wanted to test your scouting abilities. I thought that ought to do it.”
“You’re right, it ought to. So I spend a day finding a place to camp. I set up camp. Then what? Do I have to wait out the next day while you try to find me? It can take more than a day to find someone who has been hiking all day and is hiding their trail too. How do we end this thing?”
“Show me the map,” he requested.
I spread out the map and showed him. “There are meadows here and here. You see the trail, here. Once you get past the meadows you have mountains to the west. Down trail you have a big rocky mountain and to the east you have a very rough creek that leads to a wilderness area. There’s a spring near this meadow,” I explained as I pointed things out on the map.
“Looks dry. You sure the creek will be running?” he asked.
“No, but it was when I was there in the spring. No guarantees at this time of year.”
He nodded.
“A day though? Either of us could travel a long ways in a day. This isn’t going to be like tracking some lost city slicker kid. This could take some time.”
“Yeah.”
“Run it by Rusty when he gets home from work. And what if Strict calls? I can’t put our little contest over a real search, even if it is for some damn fool tourist who should have known better. I just can’t.”
“Understood.”
“No,” said Rusty, grimly. “Of all the places in those mountains why did you have to pick Elk Meadows?”
“We need a place with lots of options. It’s got meadows, mountains, rocks, the creek. Name a place up there with more to offer.”
He thought about it, but didn’t know the area as well as I did.
“Just a minute,” he said and walked off.
“What’s he doing?” Chase asked.
“He’s either banging his head against a wall in frustration or he’s calling Kelly, a ranger up there. He’s hoping Kelly will recommend a different place.”
When Rusty came back he started pulling out maps. I tried to reason with him.
“Rusty, Elk Meadows is just a campground. It just happens to be at the end of a trail that you don’t like. But there’s nothing wrong with the trail or the area.”
“What about South Fork?”
“No. Poor choices. There’s only a rocky creek and a rocky canyon.”
“Springside.”
“No variety.”
“Buckhorn.”
“Only one canyon with a trail down it or mountains that go straight up.”
“Punchbowl.”
“Only desert, it’s too easy.”
“Chilao.”
“Rusty, what did Kelly say?” I asked.
“He wants to go too.”
“He can’t, this is just between me and Chase.”
“What did he say about Elk Meadows?”
Rusty paused. “He thought it was a good choice.”
“So there, see? Kelly wouldn’t recommend it if he thought it meant trouble. He knows how easily I get into trouble so he would suggest another place if he thought there was a better one. I wish I could have talked to him. I’d like to know if the creek is running.”
“You’ll find out soon enough. He wants to hear all about this contest you’ve gotten yourself into.”
“Oh no, then he’ll want to go for sure.”
“Why?”
“Paintball rifles. Big boy toys. You know how Kelly is, everything’s a game to him.”
“What are you doing with paintball rifles?” Rusty asked.
“Umm, shooting each other? You know we wouldn’t use real ones.”
“My wife, out in the woods playing war games.”
When Kelly arrived it was like planning an invasion of a foreign country. He examined the maps pointing out different possibilities. Rhonda and Rusty just sat watching, shaking their heads in consternation, as Kelly, Chase and I pored over the maps.
“If you go up this fork it’s like a fortress. Rocks guard the entrance and you can hide almost anywhere. Up here there’s an old homestead but it’s not good tracking ground around it. If you end up near there it makes a decent wind break so I’ve camped there on occasion.” On and on he went while I took notes. It never hurt to know the area especially when I was up there so much.
“So,” I said after Kelly had wound down again, “Elk Meadows still looks like the best choice.”
“Sounds good to me,” Chase answered.
“When are you going?” Rusty wanted to know.
“I’m ready to go right now,” I said. “I’ve always got a pack ready for a two day search. All I need to do is pick it up and toss it in the Jeep. I think we should start on Monday though. Strict doesn’t usually call me in the middle of the week so I’d rather be out of touch when he’s least likely to call.”
Kelly asked me, “You’re going to spend a day hiking off trail with no destination in mind, just making things hard for Chase?”
“That’s the plan. And when he finds me I need to shoot him first before he shoots me.”
“Just don’t forget to get your bearings every once in a while. Don’t concentrate totally on your trail.”
“Kelly, you sound like me when I do school lectures. I’ll be fine. Then after he finds me I get to track him and we do it all over again.”
“If he tracks you he’ll know the area. He’ll be able to plan his trail as he goes. You’re giving him an advantage if you let him track you first. If you track him first you learn some of his tricks. You can get a feel for how he thinks so, when he is tracking you, you can use that information.”
“Wow, who’s the competitive one?” I asked. “This isn’t a winner takes all contest. We’re just having some fun. It is possible to win both rounds in different ways. I can win by shooting him first, or by being untrackable. Hey, if Chase doesn’t find me how will I know it?”
“You really think Chase won’t find you?” Rusty added.
“No, I guess I know he will. But in the unlikely event that he doesn’t, how will I know? I’m not going to sit out there for a week waiting to get caught. We need to decide what to do, just in case. I once tracked a kid for three days and she wasn’t even trying to hide her tracks. She’d only been missing a day and a half. So what makes me think Chase can find me in two days if I am hiding my tracks?”
“After the third night head for the car. I’ll do the same. Same rule applies though, if you get shot you lose.”
“Okay, that seems reasonable.”
“Cassidy, are you sure you want to go through with this?” Rusty asked, climbing into bed and pulling me close. “You don’t have to, you know.”
“That’s true, but I’d really like to know what we are both capable of, and there’s only one way to find out. Chase is the best tracker and scout that I’ve met. If I can get past him then I’ll know I can get past almost anybody.”
“What if he beats you?”
“He probably will. He should be able to. I’m not going to worry about it if I lose. Maybe I need to know my limitations. One way or the other I mean to find out. I only wish I didn’t have to spend three nights alone in the woods to do it. Then after we restock I’ll have to do it again.”
“Do you think you can find Chase if he hides his tracks?”
“I found Kelly when he was hiding his. I don’t know about Chase. He is going to be tough and won’t go easy on me. He might test me, and play tricks on me to see how I react. Either way he’s going to be tough to track.”
Monday was the hottest day of the year. I carried two and a half days worth of water, two days food, the stove, a change of clothes, my hunting knife and trusty magnesium stick, a very bulky paintball rifle, a small Ziploc bag of cookies and one slice of cheesecake which had to be eaten the first day. Too bad cheesecake didn’t pack better; it was the one thing I craved but couldn’t take backpacking.
Chase, Rusty and I stood looking out across Elk Meadows. Chase took in the scene noting what he could from the truck. It wasn’t his turn yet.
“You take care of my girl out there,” Rusty said.
“I will. It’s just a camping trip with some odd hiking thrown in.”
“Do you know where you’re going?”
“I have some ideas. I don’t know if they will pan out.”
“Will you tell me?”
Chase took his cue and politely made himself scarce while I talked to Rusty.
“I won’t touch the meadows, too easy to track. I’m not heading for the creek and the wilderness area. That’s what he thinks I will do. I’ve got a route around the far end of the meadows that will lead me up into the mountains. So if anything happens I’ll be in the mountains behind the meadows. I don’t plan on being very far from the campground at any time. The end of the meadows is the furthest that I will be. You’ll be able to see that clearly on the map.”
“Okay.”
“Take Chase out to Trujillo’s and keep him up really late,” I said sarcastically. “I’ll see you in a few days.”
I waited for the hug and kiss I knew was coming but he seemed reluctant to let me go. This always happened when I’d be gone overnight and I felt guilty leaving. I was grateful that our house felt more like home to him than the condo had. There was comfort within his surroundings, more evidence that he was no longer alone and that seemed to calm him a lot. He seemed to feel more anchored. He wasn’t adrift anymore and to see that discomfort surface in him now only added to my guilt in leaving.
Chase appeared.
“I gotta go. I’ll be back in a few days, hopefully paint free.”
There was the hug. I knew it was coming and couldn’t have left without it. I took it with me as I watched the guys get into the Explorer and drive away. Chase would be back in the morning to begin his tracking. I turned to the trail, examining it closely. I thought it was risky taking the trail but as I examined the sides of it I could see the plants were already very battered and worn. I looked around. No use venturing into the meadow. He’d spot the bent grasses before he got out of his Baja Bug. I headed down the side of the trail, placing each foot carefully to match up with the natural lines of the land, plants and forest debris that had blown in. This was normal walking for me. I did this as I walked all the time so I was able to keep up a fairly steady pace. Three quick miles and I came to the spot where the creek took off to the north. I hopped across the trail and then walked down to the creek. I made sure to leave a few clues behind to tell Chase I was heading up the creek where he expected me to go. They had to be very subtle clues because obvious ones would tip him off that I was up to something.
I then doubled back to the trail carefully hiding my tracks as best I could, hopping from rock to rock. I blended my footprints with the vegetation and followed a hollow log that ended in a bed of ferns. When I got back to the trail I followed it off to the side until I was forced back up onto it. Here was the big shale mountain. I remembered a place I had used when I was here before. I was being chased and needed an escape route and had found one straight up the rock. It was not a friendly climb. The rock was brittle, but I had found a wide crack in the rock that I could climb up easily. I walked several yards past the place I was looking for and then backed up carefully over my tracks. I found the crack again and carefully made my way to it, trying hard to keep my footprints light and soft. I then climbed up the crack to the ledge I knew was up there. The ledge hugged the side of the mountain and I followed it until it ended near the ground about a quarter mile off trail and beside the meadow. I was hoping that little twist in the route would throw Chase off. It would at least give him an hour’s work trying to puzzle it out. I wondered how far he would go up the creek before realizing I hadn’t taken that direction.
I had to hide my tracks carefully now. After Chase discovered my little trick he’d be particularly wary. I watched for things to help me hide my trail: rocks, roots, springy little plants, pine needles, all the things I hated to see when on a search. Of course whatever I used against him he would feel free to use against me. Maybe I should just go for stealth. He’d respect stealth and quick thinking over the simple use of a few rocks. I walked along thinking, placing my steps and watching for a place to camp. A game trail took off down the mountain and I followed it up the mountain hoping the deer would come through and confuse my trail.
The cheesecake was calling me from the pocket of my pack so I dug it out. My treat had melted and was stuck all over the inside of the Ziploc bag. I folded down the top of the bag and ate most of it. I ended up tearing the bag and licking it off the plastic. It was a mess. A sticky, gooey, cheesecakey mess but it was good and I licked the plastic as clean as I could without getting my hands all sticky. I looked back at my trail knowing I’d forgotten about my tracks while I was eating. I rolled up the plastic and stuffed it in a trash bag. It was time for some heavy-duty footprint hiding so I analyzed the lay of the land for further opportunities to trick Chase up again. I followed a patch of hard pack. That wouldn’t fool Chase. He’d expect that. I considered climbing a tree, walking the branch and then dropping to the ground, but didn’t want to do all that with a backpack.
After a while I stopped worrying about my trail because I was feeling lousy. If there was one thing I had learned in the Marines, though, it was to keep on keeping on. No matter what. If the mission wasn’t complete you had to keep on. And my mission wasn’t complete. I admitted I didn’t have to keep going until dusk. I just had to find a place to camp that I could defend. Nothing in the rules said I even had to set up the tent and sleeping bag. I just had to “make camp”. What if making camp meant finding a hidden place to sleep? I knew there had to be some evidence of my camp and something had to be done with my pack or critters would get into it. So I began watching for a good, defendable camp. The harder I searched the sicker I felt and then the cheesecake came up. A quarter mile later it came up some more. Arg, I felt rotten. I tried drinking water but not even that would stay down. Camp became more and more of a priority and I needed to rest. The more I moved the sicker I felt so I made my way to a thick part of the forest. I found a tall tree, pulled my tent off the pack and hoisted the pack into the tree. I opened the tent but didn’t feel up to fiddling with all the poles and pegs. No way. I looked around and found a leafy place under some brush. After rolling up the tent so only the zipper showed I placed it in the leaves. I slipped inside through the zipper and pulled leaves over the tent. I then pulled the zipper nearly all the way before shaking the brush to drop more leaves on top of me. Finally I went to sleep, just me and the paintball rifle. The rolled up tent under me actually made a decent mattress and it didn’t even feel like I was on the ground. It was comfortable as long as I didn’t move. Movement brought uneasiness to my stomach so I laid as still as possible.
I awoke feeling even worse. My head throbbed and my stomach hurt. All I could do was lay still and wish for the third day. If I heard Chase my plan was to unzip the tent just far enough to take aim, fire my best shot, and then surrender. I was ready to quit. If I had the strength to move I would have headed for the car but that was now impossible. All I could do was wait for it to pass. I thought about what could have made me so sick. Flu? Food poisoning? Stupid cheesecake cravings, I never should have brought that cheesecake. Cookies were safe. I could have eaten the cookies, but no… I had to have cheesecake. Blah. It wasn’t worth it this time. I quit thinking about it because thinking only made my head feel worse. Just lay still, Cass, it’ll go away eventually.
As I lay still I realized I was losing track of time. It was dark and cold, then it was hot and bright. I slept, not caring what it was like outside, no longer even caring if Chase found me. Dark and cold again. At first I had to get up for necessities but as my system became more and more empty I didn’t even need to do that. I pulled down the pack, grabbed the water bottles and hoisted it back. Then I crawled back in the tent, shook leaves over me and drifted again. And I dreamed, mostly reliving long lost memories. Some of them were scary while others involved everyday things. They weren’t really nightmares, just memories. Being chased though these mountains, fighting Trent at Gear Up, being dragged by Shasta across the corral and down the road, the anger I felt at Peccati, hiking forever in the Marines, stalking deer behind the ranch, watching Jack fly at an air show…. Memories circling and twisting as I slept. Why was it cold? I shouldn’t be cold. When I’d headed out on this fiasco it was a hundred and ten in the shade.
I thought I heard voices at one point but Chase wouldn’t be talking if he was looking for me. I unzipped the tent just enough to peek out but didn’t see anybody. I zipped back up. If there were people in the area I didn’t want them to know my location. They were probably campers from Elk Meadows. They’d go away. I waited and time drifted again. I wondered how much I’d slept and how much I’d been awake. It was hard to tell the difference, especially when my only purpose was to tune out all feeling.
I was awoken by voices again but this time the voices were familiar.
Chase: “You know her better than I do. What would she do?”
And then Rusty: “She’d hide. You’re the tracker. You know where she went. You found her pack.”
“Yeah, and I thought I’d never find it, much less her. I circled the area, like I was supposed to. No shot. No movement. Nothing. No tent. I know she was here. I know she took the pack down again. She hasn’t touched the food. She was easy to track towards the last because she wasn’t paying attention and she was sick. But then she just disappeared.”
“She’d hide. She’s around here somewhere.”
My hands shook as I quietly unzipped the tent a few inches. I wasn’t sure I’d get a good shot off since I was so shaky. Why even bother, Cass? Why try? But I took aim anyway, with as little movement as possible, as little stirring of the leaves as I could manage. I aimed through the slit in the tent. I saw the larger form of Rusty and the shorter, wirier form of Chase and squeezed off one shot hitting Chase on the back of his shoulder. He spun around, alert, eyes piercing the brush around him. Ha, ha, I’d won, double time. He couldn’t find me and I’d shot him! But I felt too rotten to really celebrate.
“Cassidy? The game’s over, kid. Come out.”
The game’s over? How long had I been here? If Chase had found my pack, given up and brought in Rusty I must have really been out of it. I hadn’t noticed when Chase circled my camp. I’d barely known day from night.
“Cass...” Rusty started but I wasn’t there. He looked down the line of fire, looked through the brush, then at the trees close by. They still couldn’t see me. They knew where to look and they still couldn’t find my hiding place. Okay, I thought, time to go home. I shook the leaves off the tent and shakily unzipped it. Two sets of eyes narrowed as recognition took hold.
“Damn,” said Chase, “I must have walked past this place a dozen times.”
Rusty knelt next to the tent as I worked my way out. My head still throbbed and I was weak from being sick. I was glad it was just a walk down the mountain and across the meadow to get to the truck.
“I’m sorry Chase,” I said, “I had to stop early. I didn’t want to but I had to. I got too sick.”
“I know. You should have stopped miles ago. Why didn’t you?”
“I’m just stubborn. And the Marines would have been disappointed. I needed to finish. I had to meet my goal. But I didn’t. I quit.”
“I don’t see anyone here calling you a quitter,” Rusty said.
I stood up and the world spun around and my stomach felt queasy but there was nothing in it. My head throbbed with the spinning.
“Oh man, I am so sick. I can’t even remember the last time I was this sick.”
Rusty took down my pack and fished around inside it. He took out my stove and a backpacker meal.
“No,” I said, “I don’t want to eat. It’ll just make me feel worse.”
“Babe, you have to eat. You’re barely there.”
“When I get home. Backpacker food is gross second time around. I’ll eat when I get home.”
I pulled my tent out of the leaves and spread it out on the ground. I had to search around for the poles and pegs. After locating everything I started folding up the tent, getting it ready for packing but Rusty stopped me and did it himself. I sat beneath a tree, all worn out, and watched him work.
“Are you ready for a hike out?” Rusty asked.
“I don’t have much choice.”
I tied the tent to the pack and worked my way into the shoulder straps, pulled the hip belt snug and adjusted the weight so it settled firmly on my hips.
“Cass…”
“My pack doesn’t fit you. I carried it in. I’ll carry it out.”
“You wanna fight me for it?” Rusty asked.
“I won’t fight you. You know it.”
“Then hand it over.”
I stood there looking as defiant as I could under the circumstances. He knew he’d won. And he knew I didn’t like it. But it was probably for the best. I pulled the quick release on the hip belt and shrugged out of the pack. He pulled the shoulder straps as loose as they would go, shouldered the pack and tightened them a little. He didn’t bother with the hip belt.
I was determined to let the guys set the pace on the way back. I’d just put myself into hike mode and keep on. But they were taking it slow. When we reached the Explorer I curled up on the backseat. It was a bumpy ride leaving Elk Meadows. Every roll made my stomach hurt and every bump made my head throb. Eventually we hit pavement and I was able to ride peacefully. I fell asleep on the ride home and Rusty woke me gently when we arrived. Our home, it looked so good, so comfortable. I walked through the new living room to the comfortable, old, brown couch and curled up in a ball. It’s funny, we had brand new furniture, a nice, new living room set, but when we wanted comfort we went straight to the old couch from Rusty’s bachelor days. We’d watched lots of games on this couch and eaten many meals at the coffee table in front of it before buying our dining room table. It was comfort to me, it smelled like Rusty and it hugged me like Rusty, probably because it was so old it no longer had any particular shape. But I went to it when I wasn’t feeling well and at that moment I was feeling just rotten.
Rusty sat down on the floor next to the couch.
“What do you think you can eat?”
“Anything, just not much of it. I’ll find something in a bit. First I need to get rid of this headache. Then I’ll be able to think more about food.”
“Any idea what made you so sick?”
“Either cheesecake or a flu bug of some kind. I’m not taking cheesecake on the trail any more. It probably should have been refrigerated.”
“Babe…” Rusty looked at me as if one of these days cheesecake was going to be my ultimate downfall. He got up and brought me a glass of water and something for my headache.
“I want to know how you got from the creek to the meadow without touching the ground,” Chase said.
“Aww, Chase, that’s my secret. I’m surprised you didn’t figure it out. It was the only trick in my whole book and you’re telling me it worked?”
“I only found your trail by making wider and wider circles until I found sign behind the meadow. I found sign at the creek, on the trail and beyond the meadow, but nothing linking the three locations.”
“I knew not to touch the meadow. That would have been too easy. And you expected me to go for the creek so I couldn’t do that. What else was there?”
“So, how did you get from the creek to the meadow?”
“I flew.”
He glared at me.
“I’ll show you some day.”
“You know, when I saw how sick you were, how far you pushed, I thought I’d killed you with this contest. Then when you just vanished I didn’t know what to think. Next time I’ll have to define exactly what I mean by setting up camp. I didn’t expect your camp to be a rolled up tent in a bed of leaves.”
“Sometimes I don’t bother with the tent.”
“You don’t have to track me if you don’t want to. This could have been serious. This isn’t fun anymore.”
“Who said? Just give me a few days to catch up again. I’ll track you.”
“You’re a glutton for punishment.”
“I’ve heard that before.”
It wasn’t until the next day that I was able to keep food down and then I was eager to be out doing things. I put Shadow through the jumps I’d made and began cutting plywood for the A-frame I wanted to build. The sound of the saw brought Chase to the barn.
“What are you doing?” he asked after the noise from the saw had stopped.
“I’m making agility equipment. You saw the jump. I’m going to fill the backyard with obstacles. I had an agility course at my old house but it burned down. Then I didn’t have space for one at the condo. One reason Rusty liked this house was because he knew I wanted to build a new agility course. So now that the wedding is over and I have time and a table saw, it’s time to rebuild.”
“I don’t suppose you’d accept any help.”
“I don’t need it. But if you’re looking for something to do you’re welcome to chip in. I need both these sheets to be three feet wide. Then I need to cut two by fours the right lengths to make a frame on the back of the plywood.”
I measured and drew a line along one edge of the plywood and Chase helped me channel it through the saw. We leaned the sheets next to a wall in the barn and cut two eight-foot two by fours and then four shorter boards to add support.
“Watch this,” I said. “Shadow! Get the tool! Get the tool boy!” I commanded with enthusiasm. Shadow approached the tools on the ground, looked around for a likely candidate and picked up the screwdriver. “Good boy!” I praised. “Bring it here!” He dropped the screwdriver into my hand.
I used the screwdriver Shadow had fetched for me to attach the boards to the back of the plywood. After putting the two sections together I realized I should have cut the ends of the two by fours at an angle, so I penciled in lines and we sawed off the ends by hand. When the two sheets matched I fastened them together with a sturdy hinge. Once the A-frame was standing I attached furring strips to provide traction. Then I sanded the whole thing to prepare it for a test run and paint. We dragged the A-frame out to the yard and I called Shadow over.
“Shadow, heel.” I walked over to the A-frame. “Shadow, sit.” He sat. “Shadow, go up! Up, boy! Go up!” He looked at the A-frame. “Time to go back to leash work. He hasn’t done an A-frame in a year so I knew we’d have to back up a little in his training.” I tried a different tack. “Shadow, heel!” He heeled so I jogged over to the jump. “Shadow, jump! Good boy! Now jump again! Good boy! Heel!” I jogged over to the A-frame. “Shadow go UP!” He trotted half way up but didn’t appear to like the feel of being off the ground. “Good boy! Go up! UP!” I stood on the down side encouraging him forward until he reached the top. “Good boy! Come down! Come DOWN!” He tentatively started moving along the down side but slipped a little. It was better to take the A-frame at a jog but Shadow was a cautious dog. He’d get the hang of it soon. It wasn’t new to him, just unfamiliar.
“Do you ever sit still for a few minutes?” Chase asked me.
“Yes, I sat still for three days waiting for you to find me. Now I’m ready to do something. Building stuff like this keeps my hands busy. Are you ready to be tracked?”
“Are you sure you’re ready?”
“Sure. I just want to run the plan by Rusty.”
“Good luck.”
I spent the afternoon painting the A-frame and jumps a bright blue. I left them to dry, hoping Shadow wouldn’t get it into his head to do some work in his spare time. Just what I needed: a black, white and blue Shetland sheepdog.
When the A-frame was dry I planned to add a chain to make it more adjustable, and some carpet at the top so Shadow would be more likely to cross over. He didn’t like seeing through the crack at the top. I could tell that just by watching him. He was a lot like Rusty, I thought. He could see through this contest of Chase’s and, just like Shadow, was worried about falling through that crack. He was worried about what might follow for me once this contest was over. He knew if I showed up Chase I’d be in for some scouting and could be called on for advanced assignments, more than just finding lost hikers. That idea would never rest well with Rusty, so I expected some opposition to tracking Chase. There was no chance the outcome of our contest would stay under wraps. Strict knew what we were up to and he’d want to know how it turned out. Rusty’s dad probably knew what Chase was up to as well, and retired or not word got around the police community. Rusty knew how word spread. He’d heard stories at the Joshua Hills station that had drifted in from LA and San Diego. The officers here waited for the next installment in the Adventures of Cassidy. I was sure my honeymoon had made the rounds of Joshua Hills and this would too, whether Rusty said anything or not.
I felt like it hadn’t been fair to shoot Chase at Elk Meadows when he was talking to Rusty. I didn’t really consider that a win. It had felt good at the time but it wasn’t really fair. Chase wasn’t prepared for my shot. He’d considered the contest over. Now, the fact that he didn’t find me was another story. I could count that. He’d even had an extra day to figure that one out. It was time to go for round two.