by Kim McMahill
Deuce had given her his old fly rod the summer after her freshman year in high school. He had taught her how to tie flies, but no matter how much she watched him or how hard he tried to teach her the cast, she just couldn’t do it. More often than not, she lost his flies in a tree or a patch of willows or snagged her own hair with a hook. She remembered his patient fingers gently entangling her hair from the miscast fly. He never complained and she wondered if his hands in her hair would still feel so good.
She still tied flies whenever she found time, an activity Kate teased her about unmercifully. Niki found the craft to be relaxing and it reminded her of the mountains and Deuce. She had tied some for him for Christmas, but hadn’t been able to summon the courage to mail the package, so the small cough drop tin of newly tied flies sat in the bottom of her tackle box.
Niki picked up the tin and opened the lid. She wasn’t even sure if he still fly fished, but these flies had been some of her best work and she had wanted him to have them. Niki snapped the tin shut and buried it at the bottom of the tackle box.
Damn you, Deuce, thoughts of you deserve to be filed with work and city traffic and that’s where you’re going.
She silently crept to the edge of the pool, careful not to let her shadow cross the water’s surface. She expertly dangled her hook and waited. Before long, Niki was rewarded with a slight tug on her line. Excitedly she reeled in her catch and had to laugh at the size of her tiny trout.
“I’ll need at least half a dozen this size to make a meal and I’m not sure I have enough daylight left,” she giggled while re-baiting her hook with a struggling grasshopper and casting it back into the water.
Within an hour she had caught enough trout for a hardy dinner, but tried to stall, hoping her grandfather would come wandering down to the creek just in time to clean the fish. Niki liked to catch fish and eat them, but wasn’t too fond of cleaning or cooking them, so her and her grandfather usually divided the labor. Niki admired the way he could clean fish with just several swipes of his knife. He tackled the chore like everything else he did in the mountains, with complete ease.
She once again wondered what was taking her grandfather so long and had to fight the urge to worry. To keep her mind off her grandfather, Niki decided to buck up and just clean the fish herself—he would be tired when he returned, and hungry. She secured the stringer of thrashing trout in the creek and headed toward camp to get a knife when a dull thumping sound reached her ears. The closer she hiked to camp, the louder it grew. Soon she was able to identify the noise as a helicopter.
Niki jogged the rest of the way to the tent and grabbed the binoculars. The helicopter was flying low and in the direction she and her grandfather had ridden from the day before. If they were still at the previous camp, the helicopter would have flown directly overhead. Here, the noise was loud enough to panic the animals, but she doubted the pilot could actually see their camp. Niki assumed the craft had something to do with the control tower—maybe they were relieving the guards or bringing in supplies—but as much as she strained her eyes, she saw no American flag on the helicopter, only what looked like a maple leaf.
The bleating of sheep drew her attention away from the craft. Several ewes had started to run and soon the rest followed. Stella took off after the leaders, but chaos erupted with only one dog to maintain order. Bess trotted after the sheep braying loudly, seemingly confused by the noise and commotion. Storm pranced with his tail arched, long mane flowing and head held high, but made only half an effort to run with his hobbles on.
Niki grabbed the lead ropes and ran after the horses and mules. She easily caught up with Deuce’s old pack horse, clipped its lead rope on and tied it to the high-line they had rigged when they arrived at camp. She whistled like her grandfather did and to her surprise, Bess stopped and trotted back. After tying up Bess she went after Storm.
She was out of breath by the time she reached the creek. Storm stood quivering at its edge, eyes wild and thunderous, clearly debating whether or not to jump into the shallow water with hobbles on. Under normal circumstances the horse had no problem entering water much deeper and wider, but being hobbled made him a little more cautious.
“It’s okay, boy. Just stand there,” she spoke soothingly, trying to calm the tense horse. “I ran out without a carrot, but if you let me catch you I’ll grab one when we get back to camp.”
Storm turned to her and snorted, nostrils flaring, but made no effort to flee and after several more moments he relaxed. She continued speaking to the horse in a low reassuring voice as she eased closer and clipped his lead rope to his headstall. Niki tied him up just long enough to remove his hobbles and then started back toward camp. As she crawled up from the creek bank, Niki realized she had chased the horse further upstream than she had originally thought. Using a downed log for a boost, she mounted Storm bareback and trotted toward camp.
Stella was making progress rounding up the sheep, but one small group remained out of the dog’s reach while dealing with the rest. Niki galloped after the errant group. The sheep didn’t respond as well to being herded by a horse rather than a dog and it took her multiple attempts to bring the young ewes back to the band.
Darkness had settled over the camp by the time the sheep were rounded up. As soon as the horses and mules calmed, Niki checked their hobbles and released them. She got back on Storm and did another quick loop around the sheep before deciding she had done all she could for now. Exhausted, Niki slid off Storm’s back and knelt down to pet Stella.
“Good girl. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
The dog licked her hand and wagged its tail, proud of the work it’d done.
“Come on. Let’s get you some food. You’ve more than earned it. I wish Papa and your Gracie would get back¾I’m not liking this one bit. They could have easily ridden all the way to the old camp and back by now.”
The dog cocked its ears and titled its head as if understanding everything Niki said and followed her and Storm back to the tent. She fed the dog, gave Storm a carrot and stared out into the darkness until her eyes hurt from the strain, but no light or familiar sounds came.
The silence of night after the pandemonium created by the helicopter and fleeing animals was unsettling. It didn’t feel right and she prayed her grandfather would come home soon. Deuce’s insistence that he was getting too old for the job ran through her head. She cursed Deuce out loud as her heart longed for his strength. She refused to ever admit she wanted him, but as worry settled in Niki silently confessed she needed him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Niki lit a lantern and built a fire, illuminating the camp as much as possible in case her grandfather hadn’t carried a flashlight with him and was trying to make it back in the dark. She wanted to go look for him, but knew she should stay put. He was at home in these mountains and couldn’t get lost, but she could. The thought that he might be hurt kept entering her mind, but she tried to push the frightening images away. She had to remain calm and at camp. Her grandfather wouldn’t be happy if he returned and found her gone.
She couldn’t bring herself to return to the creek for the fish. They’d keep in the cold water until morning or at least until dinner, though she was beginning to lose her appetite the more she worried about her grandfather. Niki didn’t want to leave the small amount of civilization the tent offered and the thought of toting around a stringer of stinky fish at night in bear country didn’t seem very wise either.
Niki crouched in front of the fire and fed larger and larger pieces into the flames, trying to stave off the chill forcing its way into her body as each moment passed with no sign of her grandfather. She shivered, not from the cold, but from fear that something horrible was keeping him away.
Storm pawed at the ground, letting Niki know he was anxious to be released in order to be with Bess and the pack horse. Niki had been hesitant to turn him loose when she let the pack animals go after they’d calmed down. Having Storm close by made her feel not quite so
vulnerable or alone. She hoped that even a bear would forego wandering into camp if it witnessed a large cantankerous horse displaying his obvious impatience at not getting his own way.
Niki retrieved another carrot and fed it to Storm in hopes of calming him down, chiding herself for rewarding bad behavior. She needed to keep busy in order to prevent her imagination from running wild and at the moment, Storm was her best distraction. She grabbed the currycomb and brushed Storm’s soft coat. She stood behind him and pulled the comb through his tail until it shimmered. Niki then ran the comb through his long mane.
“You have to be the most beautiful horse in the state or maybe even the country,” she said, moving slowly to his side.
Storm craned his neck back and watched her with big brown eyes. Niki felt as if the horse could sense something was wrong as he gently nudged her with his nose. He snorted and shook his head as she ran the comb through his long flowing mane.
Brushing Storm’s mane not only soothed her nerves, but it seemed to relax the gelding as well. After calming the horse, Niki returned to the fire and sat on a log, staring into the hypnotic flames. She wondered how long she should wait before acting. It was always best to stay put. Often the perceived lost ended up searching for the would-be rescuer. She prided herself in being calm in a crisis, but her control was quickly slipping away.
Despite all efforts to push the thought out of her mind, Niki was certain her grandfather wouldn’t stay out after dark unless something was wrong. He wouldn’t want to worry her and he had warned her many times of the dangers of riding in the dark. Generally a horse or mule wouldn’t step off a cliff or in a hole in the dark, but there was an increased risk of being jabbed in the eye with a tree branch. An encounter with a nighttime predator such as a cougar or bear could also make the gentlest animal shy or buck. But the bottom line in her mind was there just was no reason for him to be gone so long. If he still hadn’t found the sheep, he would have come back and resumed the search the next morning in the daylight.
The sound of frantic braying brought Niki to her feet in one leap. She jumped back as Sally bolted through camp, nearly running her over. With long leather reins dragging the ground and empty stirrups flying, the mule kept running until she was standing next to Bess in the meadow.
Niki took several deep breaths, trying desperately not to panic. She called to Gracie, but received no response from the dog her grandfather had taken along. Something was very wrong. She had to act, but not irrationally. She was all her grandfather had at the moment if he was in trouble, and the empty saddle convinced Niki that he needed her help now.
She jotted a note and used a clothespin to clip the small slip of paper to the tent in case her grandfather returned. The note would let him know what time she left and that she was trying to back track over the way they had come the day before to look for him. She quickly saddled Storm, slid her rifle into the scabbard and stuffed food, ammunition and a small blanket off her grandfather’s cot into her saddlebags. She filled a canteen with water and placed the strap over her saddle horn and went after Sally.
Niki was in no mood to deal with the ornery mule that had either escaped or bucked off her grandfather, but the mule was still saddled and she was in a hurry to get going. If Sally had simply escaped, her grandfather would need a ride back to camp. When she reached the mule, Niki slipped a halter over the bridle and dallied the lead rope around her saddle horn. If the mule tried to run off again, the stubborn animal would have to take the much bigger, stronger and younger Storm with it.
It wasn’t very cowboy-looking, but Niki was thankful she had thought to bring a headlamp for hands-free squatting behind the bushes in the middle of the night. She adjusted the light on top of her head so it illuminated the area around them as they rode away from camp.
Niki gave Storm plenty of rein. The big horse seemed confident in his path, so she let him pick his way. The route seemed familiar to her as well and somewhat trampled down. Every ten minutes Niki called out to her grandfather and whistled for Gracie, but received no response.
The moon offered good light and the blackened sky was filled with stars. It was a beautiful night, but she feared without clouds to insulate the heat, it would be a very cold one. An owl hooted from somewhere nearby, accompanied by the howl of a coyote, but little else could be heard over the footfalls of Storm and Sally.
An hour of riding and she had nothing. No sign of her grandfather, the missing sheep or the dog. Niki pulled Storm up and listened. Several minutes of rapid gunfire echoed in the tranquility. The sound was very faint, but unmistakable. Chills raced down her spine as she heeded the shots, which sounded like nothing she had ever heard before in real life, but was clearly identifiable from movies and television. The noise had to be coming from automatic weapons, most likely from the military guards at the tower since sound could travel great distances in the mountains. The menacing noises were too far away to have anything to do with her missing grandfather, so she ignored the uncomfortable feeling the gunfire gave her and nudged the horse to continue the search.
As the second hour on the trail approached and full-blown panic began to set in, she heard a faint bark. Niki whistled as loud as she could and called out to Gracie. The bark grew louder and more distinct, giving Niki a better gauge on the direction of the sound. She kicked Storm into a trot and followed the noise. Before long Gracie burst into view in front of them.
Niki dismounted and knelt down as Gracie lunged into her arms. She hugged the dog and praised it, believing Gracie’s presence meant she was close to her grandfather. The dog was immensely loyal, so Niki wasn’t surprised it hadn’t followed Sally, but had stayed with her master. But in the darkness, even if her grandfather was near, she could still overlook him if he was unable to call out.
“Where’s Papa?” Niki repeated over and over to the dog.
Gracie just sat in front of her panting and thumping her tail on the ground. Niki felt like crying. The dog had to know where her grandfather was, but she had no idea how to communicate with the animal. Gracie was very smart, as proven by her command over the sheep, so there had to be a way to make her understand.
“I know you’re a border collie, not a blood hound, but let’s give this a try.”
She pulled her grandfather’s blanket out of her saddlebag and held it to the dog’s nose. The dog sniffed and wagged its tail happily, running in circles. Niki stuffed the blanket back into the saddlebag and quickly mounted her horse.
“Fetch. Go get Papa,” she commanded and, to her surprise, the dog took off in the direction in which it had come.
Niki tapped Storm’s sides and the horse followed the dog, dragging Sally reluctantly behind. She didn’t call out to her grandfather, fearing the dog might get confused, but after ten minutes, she heard a raspy call from a voice she would recognize anywhere.
Not far ahead, Gracie stopped and let out a series of barks. Niki pulled Storm to a stop and stood in her stirrups. She scanned her headlamp across the ground until the light rested on Gracie. The dog sat and continued to bark. Behind the dog a shape came into focus and the sight sent relief and fear surging through Niki’s mind. She had found her grandfather, but the position of his body did nothing to soothe her anxiety.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Papa, are you all right?” Niki cried as she quickly secured Storm and Sally to a tree and rushed to the old man’s side.
“I think so,” he replied.
As she scanned his unmoving body with her light and registered the doubt in his voice, Niki wasn’t convinced. He was flat with his back on the ground, most likely just as he landed. His hat sat in a crumpled wad at least twenty feet away. Dried blood had crusted on his face and matted in his thin gray hair. His skin was ashen, his breathing shallow, and he winced in pain as he tried to scoot into a sitting position.
“Just lay there, don’t try to move and tell me where it hurts and what happened,” she demanded as she grabbed her canteen and pulled the blanket and food s
upplies from the saddlebags.
Niki made her grandfather take a drink of water before letting him talk. She then covered him with the blanket to keep him from losing anymore body heat than necessary, since the evening air was quickly cooling. She removed her faded bandana, poured water on it and began wiping the numerous patches of dried blood from his face with gentle strokes.
“When the helicopter flew over that darn mule started bucking like a green colt. I would’ve ridden her out, but then she headed for the trees. Before I could duck, a heavy low-hanging branch hit me square in the head and I lost my balance. Old Sally just ditched me and took off running. At least she had enough sense to go back to camp, I see.”
“I was trying not to panic and stay put like you always taught me, but when Sally ran past the tent with an empty saddle I had to come look for you.”
“You’re a smart and resourceful girl. I had no doubt you’d find me,” he whispered.
His smile was weak and his grip even weaker as he took Niki’s hand and squeezed. She noticed his legs hadn’t moved when he tried to drag himself to a sitting position and the observation terrified her.
“You might have a concussion, probably a few broken bones, and definitely a heck of a bump on your thick skull. I imagine you’ll have a fierce headache, but the cuts on your head don’t look too bad now that I’ve washed off the dried blood. I’m more worried about broken or fractured bones. Can you wiggle your toes?”
He tried, winced with pain and then shook his head. Niki had to force back the tears as she watched him struggle.
“Can you feel this?” She poked his thigh with a pointed stick.
He shook his head again and then grimaced from the pain the small movement of shaking his head had caused.
Niki had never been in such a desperate situation so far from help and wasn’t sure what to do. She had taken a CPR and first aid course several years ago, but that was the extent of her medical training. Living in the city probably made her complacent. All she needed there was the ability to dial 911 or yell out to the nearest person for help.
