The next day Chase and I went to Gear Up because he needed to restock his backpacking food. I hadn’t eaten mine so I was in pretty good shape as far as equipment went. I looked at tents and decided I liked my old faithful one that I’d been using for years. I’d tried a new, more compact one, but when a frightened elk had thrashed it I was relieved to be back in my old tent again. I thought I was stuck in a rut, but I couldn’t find anything I liked better than my old one. Chase shopped while I looked around at all the newfangled camping supplies.
Tuesday we were back at Elk Meadows dropping off Chase. Now that he knew about the creek, meadows, and mountains I wondered which he would choose to try and trip me up. I was hoping he’d go for the creek. If he really wanted to find out how I got from the creek to the meadow he’d end up somewhere in that area. Rusty and I drove away leaving Chase alone to pick his route unobserved. I worried. Would I be able to track Chase? I wasn’t sure. I looked at this as a challenge, something to help hone my tracking skills and test my scouting ability. But I’d never tracked someone who truly knew how to hide a trail. Kelly had tried when I tracked him but he wasn’t experienced at it. He had only practiced what he’d read about tracking in books, and although it may have worked for the casual observer, it hadn’t posed much of a challenge for me. Chase, I thought, would be different.
Rusty dropped me off at the house and continued on to work. I emptied my pack and then repacked it, checking all my gear over and placing things so it would be easier to carry. I refilled my stove with fuel then made sure I had two and a half days worth of water, just in case the search took me into dry areas where water wasn’t available. I tacked a target to a tree and practiced with the paintball rifle until I was hitting the target consistently from across the yard. I was wishing for a moving target but wasn’t going to shoot at Rusty just for practice. I tried it the other way around, shooting at the still target while running across the yard and decided I better be standing still when taking my shot at Chase.
Rusty came home to a quiet house.
“Hey,” he said, “we’re alone again. We can do whatever we want.”
“And what is it you want?” I asked.
“I want you. I don’t care how or where but I want you before you go.”
Out in the woods again, thirty pound pack, lousy food, lonely nights, barely a trail. Why did I think this was fun? Chase was good. I had to give him credit for that. He’d chosen a direction I never would have taken. In a way that helped my part of the game. If he’d have done the expected I would have had preconceived ideas about what he’d be doing to trick me. Since I’d never noticed this part of the woods I was relying simply on the signs he left behind. I tried to keep my mind on the trail but it was hard. After last night I was ready to just hike right back home, surprise Rusty and go for round two! Oh yeah, that would be fun, but here I was, just like I said I would be, tracking. I had a day to find Chase and he was doing his best to not be found. Besides picking a totally off-the-wall direction he was also doing things fairly predictably. But I guess I had done the same thing when I’d started out a week ago, done things predictably, that is.
There are both advantages and disadvantages to wearing moccasins when hiking. You barely leave a trail but on the other hand you can’t blend in with the thousands of pairs of tennis shoes worn by campers and hikers. One step onto a treaded print and you leave a nice clean spot that is highly visible to the trained eye. And so that was what I watched for at first, an absence of pattern. Once I left populated ground I began watching for soft indentations, bent vegetation, any clue at all. Sometimes there were none. Usually there were some but I had to study and examine things carefully. Finding one track didn’t guarantee me another track and sometimes not even a direction. Something didn’t feel right about this trail. It was hard to follow but at the same time it was also too easy, appearing much like a hiker. I thought Chase would be attempting to hide his footprints and these footprints, although hard to see, were just hiking along. But who else would be wearing moccasins out here? The average person found them uncomfortable in the woods. They liked some cushioning when they stepped on sticks and rocks. It took a person accustomed to feeling with their feet, or someone with extra tough feet, to prefer moccasins off trail.
Chase’s tracks led me behind the campground. He didn’t exactly follow the road back out but had headed in that direction. Then he took off around the backside of the mountain. I knew there was a creek on the other side of the mountain but it seemed unlikely that he could get there from this side. I thought back over the drive in, trying to remember the lay of the land from the truck. What would Chase have seen on his way in that made him come back out this way?
Stop speculating, Cassidy, if you decide ahead of time what you think Chase did you will try to make his actions line up with that. Just keep your eye on the tracks. Shoot, where were the tracks? I backtracked myself for about twenty feet until I saw where I lost focus, then I started on Chase’s trail again. Focus, Cass, focus.
He had been nice to me so far. His trail led through typical woodland, the ground neither too hard to take a print nor too soft, and it was easy to track on. Vegetation hid his tracks in places. Come on, Chase, I thought, do something interesting. About noon I came across a beautiful campsite. Someone had set up a tent under a tree. There was also a cooking ring with some handy rocks surrounding it. A stove was set out for cooking and a pack leaned up against a tree. Chase’s tracks led right up to the camp and then went off in every direction. I didn’t want to invade another person’s camp but I was sure Chase hadn’t set it up. It was too citified for Chase.
“Hello?” I called out. “Anybody home?”
No answer. I circled the camp hoping to pick up Chase’s footprints leaving it when I suddenly caught a movement off to my side. I immediately slipped into stealth mode and made my way over to the area where I expected to intercept the person. Then I noticed his shoes. Damn.
“Excuse me,” I said from the bushes. The man was immediately startled, jumping about five feet straight up.
“Damn it!” he cried. “What kind of a freaking place is this? It’s full of crazy people! Sneaking up on me. Scaring me half to death!”
I smiled to myself. He’d met Chase.
“I’m looking for a friend of mine,” I informed him. “Maybe you’ve seen him? Older guy, longish salt and pepper hair. He was backpacking and he carried a rifle like this.” I held up the paintball gun for his inspection.
“I swear, the place is full of loonies! Yeah I saw him at Elk Meadows. He paid me fifty bucks to wear his old shoes for a day. I told him I wasn’t going far, that I’d only be hiking for a few hours, that I had a favorite campsite away from the others. He said that was fine and would I wear his shoes anyway? Hell fifty bucks is fifty bucks and I’m an honest guy so I took the guy’s fifty bucks and wore his shoes. See?” He held up his foot. Sure enough he was wearing Chase’s old moccasins.
“Shit,” I said quietly. “No wonder his trail was too obvious. I should have seen a trick coming.” Then louder, “Thanks, for the information.” Then I turned away thinking ARG!
As soon as I got a little distance away I broke into a jog back to Elk Meadows. There was no way I’d be able to catch up with Chase now.
“Hey!” the guy called after me.
“Yeah?”
“He also said to give you this,” he said, jogging over tenderfoot style. He held out a piece of paper. It read, “Things aren’t always as they appear, keep thinking.”
“Would you hold the note against this tree?” I asked.
“Um, sure,” he said hesitantly. I stepped back two steps, aimed at the paper and fired twice. Two neat little paint splats exploded on the paper. The guy jerked his hand back and the paper fluttered to the ground. I picked it up and waved it in the breeze to dry.
“When the guy gave you his moccasins what shoes did he wear to hike in? Did he say what direction he was going?”
“He had hiking boots on and, no, he didn’t tell me where he was going.”
“If you don’t want the moccasins I’ll return them to the guy they belong to. He only asked you to wear them to trick me so they accomplished their task.”
We walked back to his camp, he took off Chase’s moccasins, and gratefully pulled on his more comfortable shiny, white tennis shoes. I stuffed the moccasins into a side pocket of my pack.
“Thanks,” I said and took off at a jog. I heard the guy mutter something about nutty Californians as I left camp. I came to a halt pretty quick though. Darn, the thought suddenly occurred to me that Chase wanted me to go all the way back to Elk Meadows. But what if he hadn’t taken off from there in another direction? What if he’d followed this poor guy in different shoes and then continued on. He’d laugh at me from here to next Tuesday if I ran all the way back to Elk Meadows and started again. I was convinced our challenge had developed into a true battle of wits. If I ran all the way back to Elk Meadows I’d never find him in time and I was pretty sure he wanted me to be able to find him in a reasonable amount of time. So he was somewhere in this direction. I began weaving back and forth across the trail I’d come in on. I was almost positive I would run across hiking boot tracks off to the side of the moccasin trail. I better be right, I thought, I’m just guessing but I had better be right. I continued crossing and then crossing the trail again until I found it. A hiking boot print. Yes! I followed the boot print and was pretty sure this time I was actually following Chase. He wasn’t thinking about tripping me up so much as staying out of sight of the other hiker. Once the two trails separated enough and he was no longer concerned about being spotted he turned off in another direction and began hiding his tracks in earnest. This was the Chase I had been expecting to see. His tracks blended and he had found difficult places to hike in, thickets of ferns where nothing could be seen from the knees down and rocky places, he had spotted them all. He was enjoying the hike too, watching for things to use in his favor. I watched for things I would have used, but also kept my eye on his tracks. As the day wore on I had to be more and more careful. If I accidentally stumbled upon his camp he’d shoot me before I could put two and two together. He could be lying in wait for me. The only problem was I didn’t know if his camp was right around the corner or a mile or two away. I had no means of judging how fast he’d walked or how long he had traveled. All I knew was that he’d had enough time to con some guy into wearing his shoes.
Suddenly Chase’s trail turned. Now this was interesting. What did he know about up here that would make him suddenly turn in that direction? I looked around and just made out in the distance two walls of rock that nearly met. Oh, wow, I hoped he’d gone in there. Even if it turned out to be the terribly defendable canyon Kelly had mentioned I still wanted to see it. I checked Chase’s tracks, he wasn’t hiding them now. Either he was in the canyon or he wanted me to believe he’d gone in there. I did not like this set up. Either I walked into a trap or I walked into the canyon and he could follow me in. A trap either way. I examined the entrance. Tracks led right up to the opening but then there were so many rocks I couldn’t tell if Chase was up there. I watched for Chase’s footprints around the entrance in increasingly bigger circles. No sign of him leaving. He wanted me to follow him in. How long was it? Was there space for a camp in there? Was it possible for me to circle it? What was at the end of the canyon? How many places were in there that he could shoot me from? A lot. Hoo boy, all I could do was go find out. At least this ambush was only a paintball trap and I’d been in worse situations in the past. In fact, I thought maybe I was taking this challenge a little too seriously. The worse that could happen was a paintball shot, and a lot of gloating on Chase’s part. Maybe it would be better to get shot. It might limit my scouting and Rusty would be grateful. Okay Cass, onward and upward. I started up the canyon. It was more of a chasm than a canyon. If I stretched my hands wide I could touch both sides of it. It curved and twisted from rushing flash floods that had eroded away the walls. A few trees managed to grow in the bottom and rocks littered the floor. I kept to the side of the canyon inching my way up while watching for signs of Chase’s passing. Make yourself small, Cass, stick to the shadows. I studied the floor of the canyon closely for footprints and then noticed something odd. It was a whittled stick propped at an angle. It held up a rock, which held up more rocks. Great, the canyon was booby trapped, not dangerously, but enough to give Chase some warning. It meant he was close and was paying attention. But it also meant he might be relying on hearing me rather than seeing me. I wasn’t taking any chances. Now I kept hidden from sight, watching for tracks and for more likely booby traps that Chase may have set. It could be anything. A cord stretched across the floor of the canyon. A stick propped up. A branch pulled down taut, I had to be very careful to spot anything unusual. At this point I was glad in a way to have seen the warning trap. I hadn’t seen a footprint for a while and it meant I was heading the right way.
I came to a pine tree growing out one side of the canyon. Its roots had been washed away and then a windstorm had tilted it until it leaned across the canyon and hit the top of the opposite wall. I considered the uses. One, the canyon was not a good camping spot. Two, Chase could use the rim of the canyon to watch for me. Three, if I didn’t climb the tree he could easily shoot me from above. Had I been in Chase’s position I would have climbed the tree and set up camp close to the canyon, so I climbed the tree. At the top I was rewarded with a few faint scuffs where Chase had pulled himself onto the ridge.
I knew I was close now, close enough that I took my pack off to make movement easier. I quietly unzipped the pocket containing Chase’s moccasins and slipped them into a cargo pocket of my pants. Time to find that camp. I knew Chase’s camp could be anything, a camouflage hammock between two trees. A bivouac sack under some brush. Chase was not used to luxuries on the trail. He had to set up camp as part of the plan but, just like me, it didn’t have to amount to much. I concentrated on the tracks, striving to stay out of site from the direction the tracks were heading. I crouched low to get a good look at the ground and stay well hidden. I followed track by hidden track, wary, ready to hear that shot at any time. I was amazed that I stumbled upon his camp without so much as a sound or movement. He hadn’t spent much time setting up and had done everything while standing in one place. It had required little set up and included a bivouac sack with his pack hoisted into a tree. Everything had been neatly camouflaged and stashed out of plain sight.
When I found his camp I thought I was still following a trail. It just suddenly stopped and when I looked around there was his camp. I quickly backed off, hiding behind a tree. How had I managed it? And where was Chase? I could be within feet of him. If I was, surely he knew it and was laughing at me. But, no, there was no sound, no movement. I dropped his moccasins on the ground where he would see them, then I circled the area. He wasn’t there. Had I lucked out, or what? I circled it again finding his trail leading away, towards the canyon wall.
I smiled when I saw him, staked out overlooking the canyon, paintball rifle by his side. I hid behind a tree and watched. He hadn’t expected me to climb the tree. He thought I’d keep going up the canyon. I could shoot him right now and put an end to the game, but decided not to, so I hid my tracks and went to stake out his camp. I found a place with a good line of fire on the spot where he’d find his moccasins and waited. And waited. And waited. It wasn’t until nearly dark that he gave up on my coming up that canyon. He was walking to his camp, hiding his tracks and he stopped, looked around. He’d found the tracks from when I’d circled the camp. He followed my tracks, noting I’d made two passes around his camp. He followed my tracks back to where I’d observed him at the canyon and followed them to my present hiding place. Rats, I had wanted to shoot him right after I saw the expression on his face when he found his moccasins, but it wasn’t meant to be. I stepped out of hiding and he grinned at me.
“Why didn’t you shoot me when you had the chance?” he asked.
“Because, it isn’t important to me. I don’t need to shoot you to know I could have and you don’t need to be shot to know I could have either. You saw where I stood. You know what I saw.”
“What about Rusty?”
“I’m sure he’ll drag the whole story out of us somehow.”
“What about Strict?”
“Tell him whatever you want. Any idea why Strict hasn’t called in three weeks? I need to get some hours in this month. I have to put in twenty-eight hours every month to stay qualified as a reserve deputy. Usually I have no problem putting in twenty-eight hours on one or two searches. But Strict hasn’t called me in three weeks.”
“Don’t worry about it. You helped Rusty with the shooting.”
“Wow, a whole hour’s work. I don’t think boxing with Tom counts as training time. Target practice might, but…. What bothers me more is that I know he has had work for me to do, so why hasn’t he called?”
We’d gotten back to camp and he’d found his moccasins with the note slipped inside.
“There’s your two shots,” I said.
“Cassidy, I think Strict is having a hard time deciding how much he can risk with you. He knows you can follow a trail. You’ve definitely proven yourself there. Unfortunately you don’t stop at tracking and it scares him, just like it scares Rusty. You can’t blame them for that. They just care about you. Just like I couldn’t box with you, they couldn’t either. They can’t hurt you and they feel responsible when you’re put into dangerous situations. That’s why we’re out here. I thought it would be interesting and a challenge to track each other but Strict really wants to know the outcome. He wanted a good test of what you were capable of.”
“If I don’t go out on search calls I’ll have to do ride-alongs. I don’t want to be a cop. I can’t follow procedure. I can’t stand putting on the whole cop act. I hesitate when I should shoot and my first reaction to violence is to hide. Once I get my head on straight and analyze the situation I catch up quick. But I don’t belong in a squad car and all the guys know it. If they wanted me along it would only be because they could count on some trouble, or cookies, or an interesting story or two. It definitely wouldn’t be their overwhelming need for my proficiency as a cop.”
“You’re a good kid. I hope you never become a cop. And I think I can get Strict back on track. I know the guys are giving him a hard time. They want you back and not just for the tall tales and cookies. They know you can find people and you’re a valuable part of the team. They feel it every time they go out without you. It’s twice as hard and takes twice as long. So we want to put the team back together. I think I can help.”
We heated up our stoves, prepared backpacker meals, and ate quickly so we could clean up. It was getting dark and neither of us liked eating after dark. I didn’t expect bears in this part of the woods but you could never be sure. If they did show up it was usually just after sunset and they were drawn by the scent of food.
“Was it cold last night?” I asked.
“A little, not bad, typical California summer night.”
“Okay.” I tossed my pack on the ground for a pillow and spread out my sleeping bag.
“Cassidy…”
“Oh, no, not you too.”
He grinned in the dark and let me be.
“Up at first light?” he asked.
“Yup. How far is it back?”
“Not too far. I spent more time on the canyon than I did on the trail.”
“What else did you do down there? I found one trap that I thought you set up to warn you of my approach.”
“We’ll take them down on the way back.”
“Did you booby trap the whole canyon and then climb up the tree?”
“Not the whole canyon.”
“I didn’t bother with the whole canyon. It didn’t look like a decent camp was possible down there so I thought you’d camp up top and watch the canyon.”
“You think too much. Bet you didn’t go back to Elk Meadows either.”
“Nope.”
I was awake before first light but stayed in my sleeping bag until the sun started peeking over the horizon. I stuffed my sleeping bag in its sack, bungeed it to my pack and got out the stove. Oatmeal held no appeal and it was going to be a short day so I just made hot chocolate. Chase broke camp and skipped the whole stove business. He sat pulling strips off a big piece of beef jerky and watched while I paced and sipped hot chocolate. When the cup was empty I poured in a little water, swished it around and flung the water into the brush. Then I packed the cup and shrugged into my pack.
“You’re too perky in the morning. Are you in a hurry?”
“Yeah, I know Rusty will be there soon. But we don’t have to hurry. We need to take down the traps you set. If that guy you paid to wear your moccasins wanders up there he’ll leave California and never return.”
“Maybe we should leave them then.”
“He was holding your note when I shot it. Thought he was going to lose a hand.”
“Poor guy, jumped like a frog when I approached him at his camp at Elk Meadows.”
“Yeah, he reminded me of Thez.”
“You going to show me how you got from the creek to the meadow?”
“It depends on time. It’s three miles from Elk Meadows.”
“But it’s not far from here. This canyon is part of the creek.”
“Do you have a map?”
He dug it out. Guess he’d been planning his route for a while before we had a chance to finish the contest. Sure enough, the canyon went around the backside of a mountain and then almost hit the trail.
“Looks doable to me but I’ve never been over this part of the creek. Let’s go for it. It’s only a few miles. Then the rest is trails back to Elk Meadows.”
We climbed back down the pine tree minus our packs. I climbed down first, then Chase lowered the packs down on a rope and climbed down last. We followed the canyon down to the first booby trap and Chase disassembled it. Then we followed the creek bed up and around the mountain. We were relieved when the canyon gave way to more open ground where we could walk without stepping from rock to rock. Chase took down two more traps designed to warn him of my approach and startle me a little.
When we got to the trail again I showed him what I had done. We were only going to do this once and it didn’t serve any useful purpose to keep my actions secret. On the contrary, if he knew how I thought as I left a trail it might help him find me if he needed to in the future.
“Here’s what I did. You’ll have to follow me.”
I walked down the side of the trail, then down to the creek, hiding my tracks just as I did before. I planted a clue, just as like I did before, then doubled back, keeping to the rocks and cover. When I got back to the trail I stayed under cover and made my tracks head down trail, then backed over my tracks. I hopped lightly over to the trail and made my way up the crack.
“Come on up, you have to see this,” I told him. “This ledge follows the mountain down to almost ground level behind the meadow.”
We walked the ledge until it ended and he stood there, hands on hips.
“Very clever,” he said, “and you knew about this ledge how?”
“I was running from drug dealers who were after me with rifles and I needed a place to rest and plan, so I climbed that crack. They weren’t trackers. They passed right underneath me and got stumped. See that big tree over there? The guy I wounded was sitting under that tree and the other guy was patrolling on a dirt bike, searching the trail for me. I climbed down out of their sight and stretched a rope across the trail. Then I fired a shot and the dirt bike came flying up the trail, right into the rope. Took out both guys with one trick. I stole their dirt bike and headed out. Got arrested for speeding and possession of stolen property, but I asked the officer to take me to Rusty’s station and he bailed me out. That seems so long ago. Almost a year and a half ago. I was just a kid. What was I doing up here running from rifle toting drug dealers?”
“I have no idea. Sounds like you have lots more stories in that head of yours that I haven’t heard.”
“You don’t want to hear some of them. Let’s go home.”
We climbed down again, I picked up my pack and we headed down the trail at a brisk walk. Three miles later Elk Meadows appeared off in the distance. When the Explorer came into view I couldn’t help myself and broke into a jog. Rusty got out and stood there grinning, arms open wide. It’s hard flying into the arms of the one you love with a backpack on. It’s like two high school kids kissing and locking braces. So I removed my pack and leaned it against the truck tire and then got my hug. And my kiss. Then he held me out at arm’s length.
“No paint!” he said.
“Nope, no paint.”
“Did you find your man?”
“Yup, I found him. He just isn’t as excited to see you as I am. He’ll be here in a minute.”
As I was putting my pack in the back of the Explorer and digging around for the trail mix a man walked over to Rusty.
“Don’t camp here long,” he warned. “The place is full of loonies!”
I smiled and came around the back of the truck.
“Don’t worry,” I said, “he knows, and we’re leaving today. You can camp in peace.” The guy blushed. “He met Chase and me the hard way,” I explained.
“She’s really very nice once you get to know her,” Rusty said.
Chase walked up, “Hey man, thanks for helping out. And thanks for giving my shoes back.”
Rusty raised an eyebrow.
“We’ll tell you the whole story when we get home.”
Home. It felt so good now. Rusty and I still needed to personalize it more and we still felt as if we rattled around in the spaciousness of it, but it was comfortable and it was ours.
Shadow tackled me as I came in the door. I was used to the ritual so I just sat on the floor in the living room while he jumped all over me. I tried to get a few pets in as he jumped around, but soon he raced off trying to turn it into a game of tag. This was my cue to do what I wanted so long as I pretended to try and get him every once in a while as he ran around trying to stay away from me. There was no need to really try and catch him because if I really wanted him to come to me, a firm “come” command was all that was necessary.
A quick shower and I felt much better. We spent the next few hours sitting around the table stuffing ourselves with chips and salsa, taking turns telling Rusty about the search.
“I kept telling myself that the trail didn’t feel right for Chase’s trail. But then I’d remember that the first three miles of my trail hadn’t been too tough either so I kept on after the moccasin trail. I’m glad that guy didn’t catch me scouting out his camp. He’d have really thought we were nuts.”
“Why didn’t you go back to Elk Meadows and start over?” Chase asked.
“Not enough time, so I weaved my way back until I found your boot prints. The boot print trail felt better. I could tell that trail was yours by how you hid your tracks.”
We talked on and on. After a while I got up to start dinner while the conversation continued. Chase asked Rusty about the story I’d told him and Rusty filled in the background to it. I was glad he didn’t continue with the rest of the story.
“Cassidy, you asked me why Strict has backed off on his calls for you. Remember that, when he was at your wedding, he didn’t just see a bunch of people wishing you well. He saw you as Wayne and Betty’s daughter, Jesse’s sister, Bill and Bev’s daughter-in-law. You’re Tony, Sandy and Cody’s sister-in-law. Now you’re Rusty’s wife. You’re everybody’s friend. You’re not just this lone tracker that fell on his doorstep. And believe me, he saw all of their reactions when you walked down the aisle. He can’t forget that moment. He can’t put it behind him and just send you into who knows what. He knows you want to. He knows what you will do, how far you will go, so he holds back.”
“That won’t change if you talk to him,” I inferred.
“No, you can’t go back and he won’t forget. Strict has to see you getting calls and tracking again to remember the real you again.”
“The real me? That bride at the wedding was the real me too.”
That statement certainly got Rusty’s attention but he didn’t say anything.
“You’ll get a call from him eventually, and when you do it’ll be a straight forward tracking case. Take it. Things will click. You’ll click with the guys; the search will be easier with a tracker back on board. Just give it time.”
“Yeah, and while I am giving it time people are wandering around out in the hills, running out of water. I’ve had some close calls. I’ve seen situations where people wouldn’t have made it another day. What happens to those people while Strict is sorting out his emotions?”
“I’ll talk to him tomorrow on my way out of town.”
“But how will I know anything about it if you go back to San Diego?”
“Strict will call.”
I had to be content with that.
The next morning I awoke and wandered over to the bay window to see deer on the lawn. They were nibbling peacefully so I quickly brushed my hair, and pulled on jeans, a flannel shirt and moccasins. I slipped out the back door and inched around the side of the house. Four deer. The yard was wide open, no chance of making myself shorter than the grass. They would just have to get used to seeing all of me. I knew it would take time. I didn’t expect to get close to them the first time. They needed to get to know me but this was a good way to do it. I slowly made my way out to the yard to introduce myself deer style. I made myself visible to them and then I just froze there, letting them become comfortable with me. A few more steps, freeze. They headed for the trees so I stopped. That was far enough. Introductions had been made. Once they were no longer fearful I sat down cross-legged in the grass and just watched them. After a while they moved off around the corral and wandered away. I stood, pleased with the little bit of progress I’d made. I went inside to find Chase standing at the window.
“I’m not pushing myself on the deer. I want them to accept me as a regular part of their day. I want them to come out of the trees even if they see me working outside. So they need to get to know me a little bit at a time. They’ll come around. The deer near my hideout were becoming used to me before they were chased away. Why are you up so early?”
“I heard the door,” he said simply, like that explained it all, which it did, but only because it was Chase who said it.
I started straightening the breakfast bar. Wiping off the top, putting glasses in the dishwasher.
“Do you want some breakfast? Or do you want to wait for Rusty?” I said, picking up a thick envelope. Oh yes! Why didn’t that man think to tell me these things? I’d been waiting anxiously to see my honeymoon photos and he just leaves them in an out of the way spot.
“I’ll wait for Rusty.”
“Good, let’s sort through these pictures. I had Rusty order three of each print. One for each set of parents and one for ourselves.” We sat down at the dining room table and I sorted the pictures into stacks, one for Bill and Bev, one for Mom and Dad, and one for ourselves.
“Rusty’s got a beard,” Chase observed.
“Yeah, that’s what happens when you spend five days without a razor. Then when we finally got one I told him he could keep the beard until we headed home.”
“You liked the beard?”
“It just seemed to fit the setting. I think he looks good in the pictures but I like him better without one. Oh look! Here’s the one of the moose charging up the bank towards me. Well, it’s not worth framing but you get the idea,” I said, handing the picture to Chase. It showed the moose’s right nostril and eye, a strong neck and blurry body fading off to the left of the picture. “Here’s what the moose really looked like,” I said, handing him the picture I’d taken while I was stalking it. There were pictures of us sitting in Adirondack chairs on the cabin porch. There was one of me cooking in the little kitchen in the cabin, one of the loft area and another of the living room area. We laughed at a picture of me wading in the lake. My expression was funny because the water was freezing.
I opened the next packet to find a picture that Rusty had taken from the canoe showing the moose nearly running me over. I put that one in a separate pile for Jesse. There were several peaceful canoeing pictures that were placed in the stacks for the parents. I debated about the parachute picture.
“Chase, what is this a picture of?” I asked.
“It’s Rusty holding a parachute,” he stated.
“Would you have recognized it without hearing the parachute story?”
“Yeah, a parachute is a parachute. Nothing else looks like it.”
“You decide. How do you think Bill and Bev will react if they see this picture?”
Chase picked up the stack I’d set aside for Bill and Bev. There were several nice shots of Rusty, a couple of me.
“Keep that one,” he said.
I added a picture of the cabin to each stack. The next picture made me blush, as did each one that followed until I had counted five. Five pictures and I had no idea when Rusty had taken them! Chase looked at me amused. I put them face down on the table.
“I didn’t even know he took those!” I said. “I am really slipping, before I know it I’m going to have to take him scouting. I told him he couldn’t go scouting with me until he could sneak up on me without being seen.”
“And I can’t see those pictures?”
I looked at them again. I had been nude when they were taken but they didn’t really show much.
“I’m not going to show them to you! If you want to see them you’ll have to be either very sneaky or convince Rusty to show you.”
I actually thought the pictures looked very comfortable and romantic and it didn’t bother me that Rusty had taken them. I only wish I had a little warning rather than stumbling across them with Chase.
There were pictures of Taylor’s main street, the town from the air, Upper Loon Lake from the air and a picture of me getting out of the little pontoon plane. All in all I was pleased with the pictures.
Rusty walked in wearing boxer pants, a t-shirt, tousled hair and a very sleepy expression.
“Did you see the honeymoon pictures?” I asked.
“No but I picked them up,” he answered.
“Chase and I were just looking at them,” I said.
He paused.
“So,” he said cautiously to Chase, “what do you think?”
Chase grinned at him enjoying his embarrassment. “Lucky man,” he said with a wily look.
“Cass, I thought we’d be looking at those pictures together. I never thought you’d show them to Chase first! I…”
Chase and I cracked up.
“Here,” I said, “Chase hasn’t seen them yet. You decide.”
“You don’t care?”
“He’d see more of me in a swimsuit. It was just the circumstances that took me by surprise. Promise me you are not putting those pictures on your screensaver.”
He flipped through the pictures.
“I like this one,” he said, handing me a picture. It showed me wrapped comfortably in a big red and black plaid buffalo blanket, sitting on a fur rug in front of a fire. The fire had warmed things up so the blanket was not exactly wrapped tight anymore. The picture showed a lot of bare shoulder and a lot of leg but it was the comfortable warmth within the picture that made it such a good one.
“Me too,” I admitted.
“I want to talk to you before I head back,” Chase told Rusty. He pocketed the pictures for Rusty’s parents and Rusty pocketed the pictures of me. They both headed for Rusty’s office and I started breakfast.
Once I had sausages, omelets and toast ready I went to call the guys. They were in a deep, serious conversation about the scouting aspect of the contest.
“She walked right into my camp. Circled it twice and tracked me to where I was staked out. Cassidy could have shot me any time she wanted. She could have been there an hour or more before I gave up on her coming up the canyon. She was there all that time and I didn’t even know it. She came out of hiding when she was ready, no sooner. I’m willing to bet she could have watched me until dark, set up her camp just out of sight of mine and watched me the next day without me knowing, had she wanted to.”
“Breakfast is ready guys, come and get it.”
“Thanks,” Rusty said. “We’ll be there in a minute.”
Chase continued, “She found my trap, identified it for what it was and avoided it. She reasoned out where I was and found me instead of continuing up the canyon like I expected her to.”
I left. It sounded like I had an ally in Chase. I thought it wise to let him be. They were still talking as they came down the hall.
“So, how much of a camp did she bother with?” Rusty asked.
“Not much.” Chase answered. Rusty smiled and shook his head. Chase continued, “I started to protest but decided it was better to keep the peace. She seemed very comfortable with her pack for a pillow and her sleeping bag rolled out on the ground.”
“At least she used a sleeping bag,” Rusty said. “She doesn’t always.”
“The reason I told you all that is because I’m going to Strict’s place on my way out of town. I wanted your reaction.”
“You knew she was there, how?” Rusty asked, giving me a look. He didn’t want to be talking in front of me but couldn’t break it off without excluding me. I let the guys talk. This was my future in search and rescue they were discussing and I wanted Rusty to be comfortable with whatever was decided so I kept my silence and just let them continue.
“I found her tracks. Only a tracker would have caught them. You would never have known she was there. Strict might have, maybe. He’s tracked before but only easy trails. He knows a thing or two but he has to be watching for clues and doesn’t catch subtle things. I doubt if he’d have known she was there either.”
“What bothers me is that scouting usually involves firearms.”
“That’s why I threw in the paintball rifles but she didn’t shoot me. If I would have tried to shoot her she would have let me.”
“Why?” Rusty asked, turning to me. “If you had been shot, then you would have lost. It would have marked Chase as the better tracker and scout. Would you have let him shoot you?”
“Yeah, I would have. He’s more experienced. If he came out looking like the victor it wouldn’t bother me. I’ll always be the junior tracker as far as I’m concerned.”
“Why didn’t you shoot him?”
“I didn’t need to.”
“It was just paint.”
“No, it was an understanding. He knew he could have been shot. He knew to shoot me would have been dishonest. So we settled for a silent understanding.”
“What we need to know,” Rusty said, “is if it came right down to it, could you? If it were him or you, could you take him out?”
“No. I don’t think I could shoot Chase, even if it was in self defense.”
“What if it was someone you didn’t know? If it had been a real apprehension and the guy discovered you, could you shoot him?”
“I think so. In cases like that my instincts take over. If I knew it was self-defense I could do it. If taking out one person would save others, I could do it. But you know how it would affect me. Both of you know.”
Yup, I could tell by the looks on their faces, they both knew.
After breakfast Chase went to Strict’s house, but I would have to wait to find out if the tracking competition had affected the men’s opinion of me. I thought I had proven my abilities, but I also thought they would hesitate more, knowing I had to be pushed beyond their comfort zone before I would act in a violent way against an attacker.