The Charity

by Connie Johnson Hambley

  Devlin was happy to see the sheriff arrive and gladly accepted Michael’s assistance in coordinating the rest of the search. He thought the sheriff was a good man and knew he had headed up other searches in the past. Since the search expanded beyond formal park boundaries, Michael pressed him to give command to the sheriff’s department. Michael’s rationale was sound, and Devlin was too weary from lack of sleep to put up much of a fight. That enabled Devlin to focus on what he could do best—plan and track the progress of the search teams. The people quickly responded to Michael’s authority and soon the rest of the teams were formed and dispatched.

  News of Ridge Team’s problems concerned Devlin. It was what he had feared most. Of all of the searches he had been a part of in the past, not one had ever been like this. If the decision was left up to him, he would have pulled that team off the mountain in a second. That Jessica woman must be one tough cookie to go on by herself. If anyone would know if she could do it, he guessed it was the sheriff.

  Devlin hated this search. From the moment he saw the mother run up to his station, he felt uneasy. He just could not pinpoint what bothered him. He had been awake most of the night thinking about the search and the teams on the mountain.

  Every camper or hiker was supposed to register with the base station before ascending. The rangers took brief note on how many were in the party and where they were heading. He did not fault his rangers for not being exact, but this time, like other times in the past, no record of anyone registering that fit the mother’s description could be found.

  Seeing that the search was in good hands and there was little more for him to do for the moment, he decided he needed to talk to the mother one more time. Not finding anyone who had spoken with her that morning, he decided to go to Mrs. Saunders’ house by himself.

  Now, he stood alone in that house and shook his head.

  “Why the dickens would a mother go off and not tell anyone where she is?” He asked the question to no one in particular and reached for the phone.

  Michael put the phone back down in its cradle and did not move. The news from Devlin that the mother was gone did not sit well. The search was not going as planned, the storm was picking up and worse, reporters were beginning to swarm around the base station asking questions.

  The main radio erupted.

  “Base Twelve? Come in, please.”

  Michael reached over and grabbed the microphone with one hand and flipped the switch on with the other. “Base Twelve here. Go ahead.”

  “Bluford Pass Team here. No sign of the boy and we’ve finished the first search pattern.”

  “Acknowledged.”

  “The storm’s picked up strength. What do you want us to do?”

  Michael looked outside and saw that the snow was blowing horizontally across his view. A few people closed in around him.

  “Suspend the search and come in.”

  “Acknowledged, Base Twelve. Bluford Pass Team will come in along the Whittaker Path. Team out.”

  Michael squinted his eyes shut and clenched his jaw. Who else knew what Devlin found out? He looked around the room and met the expectant gazes of its occupants. He was backed into a corner. There was no other choice.

  “The search is being suspended until further notice. All teams are to be called off the mountain. Efforts will resume at the first possible opportunity.”

  There was a sigh of relief as people rushed to spread the news of the search suspension. Tracy, a younger woman with blonde hair pulled back into ponytail and wearing a ranger’s uniform, took Michael’s place at the microphone and began relaying the news. In a few minutes, all the teams that had been notified were on their way in.

  “Base Twelve?”

  Tracy flipped up the switch. “Base Twelve here. Go ahead.”

  “Hoyt here. I’m just cresting over the Skyler area peak.”

  “Acknowledged, Hoyt.” Tracy quickly checked off the last reported locations of the teams then added, “We have another team in that location. Rendezvous with them and they’ll assist you coming in.”

  “Yup. Will do.” There was a pause. “Did cha get word to Jess about the search being called off?”

  Tracy looked down at her paper with the list of teams. The words ‘Ridge Team’ had a thick black line through them. She thought that meant the team was already accounted for.

  “It looks like someone else crossed off that team. Will verify now. Base out.” She adjusted the dial to strengthen her radio output and tried to raise Jessica Wyeth.

  Jessica urged Gapman on as fast as she could. The horse was incredibly light-footed around the rocks and fallen trees. Jessica’s admiration of the animal grew with every step. The horse seemed to understand her urgency and responded with heart and spirit.

  She leaned over the big horse’s shoulders and gave his neck a strong pat. “You are quite the animal, Gapman. You’re like one huge dancer.” She kept the banter up as much as she could, knowing her voice was encouraging the horse on. Neither one could let up.

  With her eyes focused on the trail, she piloted Gapman around the obstacles as best as she could. The horse had a greater sense of footing on its own and she was careful not to interfere with its own intuition. Frequently, she looked ahead and was careful not to go near any trees which could spring at her like the one that terrified Tuckerman. She felt it was not just an isolated trap left over by past seasons’ hunters, and did not take any chances.

  Snow burned at her face and eyes and her heart kept rhythm to the staccato beat of Gapman’s strides. Her own body molded into an extension of the horse’s, bending with every turn and leading with every step. Gapman’s thoughts could almost be felt through his strides.

  They continued on like this for well over two hours. It was late afternoon and Jessica knew they would be hitting the final trail marker any minute. Her eyes focused ahead.

  Gapman was the first to see it. First, he cocked an ear at it. Then he turned and headed straight for it. Jessica was bewildered by his behavior until she saw what it was he was going for.

  Snow lightly dusted the surface of the clothes. Splayed legs and arms clad in the faded green pants and blue shirt could be seen easily through the storm. Hope tempered all other thoughts.

  Her radio snapped to life.

  “Ridge Team? Ridge Team. Come in.”

  Jessica pulled the reins up against Gapman’s mouth and brought the horse to a stop when she heard Tracy’s voice hail her. She fumbled with the radio and jumped off Gapman at the same time.

  “Wyeth of Ridge Team here. Go ahead.” She did not take her eyes off the faded green and blue of the clothes of the small body. It was half buried in a drift.

  “The search has been suspended. Continue your descent. All teams are to report to base.”

  The call to suspend search efforts did not come as a surprise. She had been expecting it long before this.

  “Acknowledged. Base, please stand by.”

  Despite the cold shaft of fear that ran through her, she waded to the body and knelt down beside it. She took off her thick mitten and placed her hand on the back of the shirt.

  “What?” She shook her head and pushed her hand down more firmly. The back of the shirt gave way under the pressure. It was filled with snow.

  Gapman began to back away and gave a series of short nervous nickers. Jessica held the radio to her mouth and turned to fight her way through hip deep snow back to the animal. She depressed the button.

  “I’m at the fourth marker for Pine Pass. Search is a hoax. I—”

  The thick jaws of the ancient steel trap snapped shut around her leg. She fell to the ground.

  “Ridge Team? Wyeth? Repeat transmission.”

  The radio had fallen deep into the snow. Muffled sounds of static joined the rush of the wind through the trees. “Ridge Team? Come in please.” Tracy’s voice sharpe
ned with concern. She went into standard protocol.

  “This is Base Twelve requesting radio silence for all parties.” She repeated her hail. “Wyeth? Jessica? Come in please.”

  The padded sides of her boots did not prevent the trap from biting into her skin and snapping her bone. The pain was intense. Jessica heard the repeated hails on the radio and tried to reach it. It had fallen out of her hands with the force of the shock and was now just beyond her grasp. She tried to pull and dig herself over to it, but could not. The trap was somehow tethered to the ground. Most trappers would chain a trap to a tree or spike to prevent a wounded animal from running away into the woods once it was snared. Now she knew how effective that precaution was.

  Fighting the panic rising inside her, Jessica sat up and worked to pry open the clenched and rusted jaws. She brought her body down close to her leg and positioned her untethered leg slightly behind her in order to grip the two ends of the trap. The grip caused searing pain and any movement to free herself worked to shut the jaws more tightly bit by bit. A rock formed in her stomach as she slowly acknowledged the reality of her injury.

  After many attempts at freeing herself, Jessica sat very still and listened. The only sounds that drifted to her ears were those of the forest and of the terrified horse snorting in confusion. Gapman stood on top of a rise, legs straight, head up and looked at Jessica through white ringed eyes, his flared nostrils two points of red.

  “Easy Gapman. Easy fella... c’mon guy... c’mere... you can do it fella... all right.” The soothing melody of words were whipped away from Jessica’s mouth by the wind and scattered through the trees. The song was joined by blasts radio static and voices trying to hail her. Jessica concentrated on cloaking her voice with calm, knowing that any edge of fear that came through would further frighten the panicked animal. “Come on. Eeeasy fellaaa.”

  What felt like an eternity went by and the soothing melody of her voice finally began to charm the horse. Gapman lowered his head, pricked his ears forward and took a hesitant step toward his fallen rider.

  “That’s a good guy. Easy. C’mon... c’mon.” Each step by the horse was met with more encouragement and praise. Cold and shock began to settle in around Jessica. Slowly, she was able to reach her hand up and stroke Gapman’s face. She brought his huge head down to her own and placed her cheek on his soft muzzle. The horse breathed his sigh of relief at being comforted.

  “Okay, guy, we have work to do.” She reached up and took the bridle off of Gapman’s head. Numb fingers fumbled with the small buckles and leather straps and in a few minutes, the bridle was dismantled completely. She dug around her leg and the trap as far as she could and looped one end of the leather reins through the links of the chain. Using the other lengths of leather from the bridle, she secured the pull to the stirrup of the saddle.

  Coaxing the head of the horse down to her, she took a long time to stroke the huge face and to talk to him. “This is it, fella. It’s up to you. Just pull as hard as you can. Okay?” She took a deep breath.

  “Heyah! HEYAH! Go! GO!” She waived her arms above her head in front Gapman’s face. The horse obeyed and began to back up the snowy slope, using the reins to pull against the imbedded chain. Hooves slipping on ice, the horse nearly fell again and again as it thrashed against the vise.

  “Go! HEYAH!!” Jessica made one final surge and Gapman whipped his head wildly around, trying to free himself from his tether to the trap. The leather of the bridle could not withstand the stress and snapped suddenly, sending the screaming horse careening back against the hillside. Finding himself free, Gapman scrambled back up to the top of the rise, shaking.

  Jessica looked down at the trap and felt along the ground. Nothing about it had changed except for the squeeze it placed on her leg. The pain made the forest close in around her.

  The radio was silent and snow fell downward relentlessly. The pile of clothes was now nearly covered completely by a thick blanket of tiny flakes.

  Nothing moved along the mountainside except the snow, pushed by currents of wind.

  Yards away, crouched in a recess formed by two slabs of rock and cloaked with snow, the hunter smiled as he watched his prey put her head down and cry.

  The illuminated display on the watch read one A.M. Its faint light turned the snow, which clung to long strands of hair, an eerie green. Jessica put her hand back down and pulled the sleeping bag around her. She was lucky. After another hour of coaxing, Gapman relaxed enough to walk back down to her. It took some doing, but she was able to reach some supplies and burrow into a cubby of snow, using the sleeping bag as a cover.

  She could not sleep. Even with the snow shelter she dug for herself and the insulated sleeping bag, cold and shock were beginning to work their way into her muscles. Any attempt to generate warmth through movement was met with stabs of pain. Having only one package of dried food left, she ate less than half of it. Her stomach growled its protest. Small amounts of snow melted in the palm of her hand. Only when the last of the slush was gone did she allow herself to put it in her mouth. Then she swirled it around, moistening her dry mouth and further warming the liquid. She swallowed each mouthful slowly, savoring it.

  There was nothing more for her to do but wait and do what she could to ward off hypothermia. The time crawled by and her mind made use of the void by connecting the facts of what happened to her in numerous ways. Fear kept taunting her with realities she refused to accept, but knew were true.

  The woods played on her fear, giving her groans and snaps to monitor to in wide-eyed dread. Her worst enemy now was herself. She tried to force herself to relax, but could not.

  The outline of the trees could barely be seen against the storm-filled night. The snow periodically slowed to a shimmering curtain, and then would increase again as if refreshed by a moment’s rest. Rushing wind pushed the snow around, constantly rearranging the contours of the ground.

  A weak impostor of sleep finally pulled down on her. She did not sense the approach of the man.

  Her eyes sprang open and were met with the vision of a heavy boot placed close to her face.

  The boot pushed at her chest. “Sit up.”

  Arms reached down and threw the sleeping bag to the side. The cold that seeped into her accelerated with a rattling chill. Jessica looked up into a face with black holes as eyes and a mouth tortured to one side in a leering grin. There was no doubt who he was.

  He looked around and took an exaggerated inhale. He was excited. This is what he had been working so hard for. “Let’s go.”

  Jessica looked at the trap and remained silent.

  He stooped over and began to work on opening the metal jaws. She looked down at the back of his head and remembered what he did to Gus. She tasted the hate.

  With as little motion as possible, she worked off her thick mittens. In one motion, she brought her hands around his face and dug her fingers into the soft flesh around his eyes. In less than a second later, she was on her back with his arm across her throat and a knife to her chest. He yanked her trapped leg for emphasis. Her eyes rolled back into her head with pain.

  The black eyes gave a flicker of merriment and then dimmed. He took the discarded mittens and threw them into the woods. Next, he took off the thick ranger’s parka she wore and tossed it aside. She tried another move to protect herself. The knife quickly found a spot on her throat and hovered there.

  “Don’t.” The single word conveyed all the menace necessary to secure Jessica’s obedience.

  She stood up and gingerly tested her leg. It was impossible to put weight on it.

  He pushed her up the hillside.

  Gapman looked at Jessica and gave a nervous nicker, keeping a watchful eye on the man. The big horse wanted to come forward, but instinct told him to keep away. Jessica looked at the horse and saw that a makeshift bridle of rope had been hastily tied around his face and more gear had been adde
d to the saddlebags—another blanket, a coil of rope, a pack, and an odd green roll of something.

  The man bent down and searched the pockets of her gear, producing a small rectangular piece of metal. He looked down at it for a long time then threw it into the woods with his entire strength. The wind helped to carry the transmitter deep over the chasm.

  He mounted the horse with little effort and yanked Gapman’s head around. Gapman surged forward, nose in the air, protesting the abuse the rough rope caused on his face. The horse was brought up behind Jessica and used to drive her forward.

  There was nothing to do but try and walk.

  Michael rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and looked at the clock on the base station wall. It was close to ten o’clock in the morning. The third wave of teams was due to arrive.

  The weather had worsened through the night and the rescue teams were told to go home and get some rest. The forecast was hopeful for a break in the storm by late afternoon. Devlin wanted to have everyone present and ready to go if it broke sooner.

  The Falls Team escorted Hoyt down the mountain yesterday. Michael had a brief conversation with him before he was taken to a doctor. The man was shaken, but in good condition.

  “You were right about Jess, Sheriff, she can handle herself on a mountain.”

  “Can she?”

  “Yep. She can read the terrain as well as anybody.” Hoyt saw the concern etched on Michael’s face. He continued, “Don’t be hard on yerself for pushin’ us to separate. I’ll bet you a hundred dollars that she finds that boy an’ brings ‘im home.”

  The recollection of that dialogue made his muscles tense. Michael had come under intense criticism from team members when they heard that he encouraged them to separate, especially a team with an injured member. Devlin, normally an easygoing man, listened to the criticism quietly. He gave Michael some support on the decision initially, but when Jessica failed to respond to hails, the support evaporated.