He reached back into the safe. His fingers found the turkey carrier that his hunting partner, Dusty, had made from an old buck horn back in the nineties. He held it in front of him and his smile grew wider. Holding his grandfather’s box call and Dusty’s carrier, Nirsch realized how much he missed both men. His grandfather had taken him hunting and fishing anytime he asked, rain or shine. He’d learned so much from him growing up. He’d taught Nirsch how to fish and hunt. He’d also taught him how to pray. He was the toughest guy Nirsch had ever known, and he would help anyone without asking for anything in return.
Nirsch’s best friend Dusty had passed away in 2010 from a heart attack. He had a genetic flaw in his heart that wasn’t detected until he was gone. Dusty had an awesome funeral that Nirsch was sure his friend would have approved of. They stuck Dusty in a pine box and read his favorite scripture. Seven of his friends stood graveside and gave him a twenty-one-bow salute. Nirsch laughed out loud at the memory as he glanced at the picture of the two of them, grinning from ear to ear, standing over a six-point bull.
Nirsch looked at his bow and had the urge to take it instead of his shotgun. He chose the shotgun. He would let Adam do the shooting today. He was taking his gun only in case Adam missed.
“Dad, are you ready?”
“I’m coming, buddy.”
Amanda Collins rolled over in bed, opened her eyes, and stretched. The sun’s rays were cutting a path across the bedroom floor. She could hear meadowlarks singing the praises of spring outside the guesthouse. A warm breeze fluttered the white sheer curtains and carried the scent of wildflowers and rich green grass through the open window. Larry wasn’t in bed. Her stomach rumbled. She hoped he was making breakfast.
Amanda threw back the covers and stretched again. She looked down. Her breath caught at the sight of the lumpy red stump where her left leg used to be. It’d been nearly fivemonths since her leg was taken from her, but the loss and pain she felt was still fresh, as if it had just happened. When Larry brought her to the ranch after the mountain lion attack, the infection was spreading up her leg. With no means of fighting the infection, the leg had to be removed. The only person in the area who resembled a doctor was Doc Lewis, the local veterinarian. Nirsch had ridden over to the Lewis ranch to get him.
Lewis had butchered her like she was a dog hit by a car. He’d saved her life, but she hated him for what he’d done.
She pulled the blankets back over the ugly stump and began to cry. How could Larry stay with someone who wasn’t a complete woman? He’d always complimented her on her shapely legs, and she’d relished those compliments, always doing her best to work out and keep them sleek and attractive for him. Now she was a freak. Amanda hadn’t made love to her husband since the mountain lion attack, hadn’t even let him see her with her leg uncovered. She’d always wanted children. Now she wasn’t sure if that would ever happen. A fresh flood of tears poured from her eyes.
“Amanda, breakfast!” Larry shouted from the kitchen.
Amanda quickly dried her tears. “Coming,” she said.
She swung her leg over the side of the bed and hopped to the closet and the wooden leg Bill had fashioned for her. She attached the leg and quickly dressed.
Larry was waiting for her at the table with fresh pancakes, bacon, and eggs sunny-side up, just the way she liked them. Larry glanced up as she sat down and gave her a broad smile. Amanda returned it with a slight smile and nod before reaching for her napkin and fork.
“Michelle came by to check on you,” Larry said. “She’s going to do some gardening later and wondered if you’d help her.”
Amanda’s eyes flashed. “I don’t feel like gardening,” she snapped. “I can’t even walk across the floor without stumbling. Why is everybody pushing me? Can’t you all just let me be in peace? I will do things when I’m ready, and not before!”
Larry stood, threw his napkin down, and stormed out of the kitchen. Amanda hung her head. Her husband had been nothing but sweet, supportive, and concerned for her since the attack. Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks and dripped onto the rich yolk of the egg her husband had lovingly prepared for her.
Nirsch strapped on his .45-caliber Long Colt revolver and headed out the door. He was greeted in the kitchen by his son, who bounced up and down while smiling up at him, bits of honey still stuck on his face.
The sun was high as they rode out of the yard and east up the canyon. Joker was wound up tight. He felt twitchy under Nirsch.
“I think we’re gonna have to let these boys run a little,” Nirsch said. “We aren’t the only ones who’ve been cooped up all winter. Joker feels like he’s about to snap.”
“Sounds good to me.” Adam kicked his own horse, Moe, in the flank and took off like a shot. “Come on, Dad,” he called over his shoulder. “Race you to Kelly Meadow!”
Nirsch patted Joker on the neck. “What do you think, old man? Are you ready to run and show these young guys a thing or two?”
Joker tossed his head and sidestepped in response.
“All right then, let’s go!”
Joker shot forward just as Adam and Moe disappeared into the trees. Nirsch felt great to be out and doing something fun with Adam. It had been a long, cold winter. They raced up a side draw to a saddle, then turned and headed across the top of a ridge. With the trees in the bottom of the canyon, Adam and Moe wouldn’t be able to really open it up full. The lack of trees on the top of the ridge would give Joker and Nirsch the advantage.
“All right, Joker, let’s move now. We got some ground to make up!”
Joker flew with even more speed. The ride smoothed out as Joker seemed to glide over the terrain, his hooves barely touching the ground. The wind blew Nirsch’s hair back. Warm spring air flooded his lungs. He felt more alive than he had in months.
Nirsch got to the end of the ridge and reined Joker in a bit. They turned, plowed down a steep draw, and emerged in Kelly Meadow. Nirsch quickly pulled Joker back and jumped off as they slowed. Joker began grazing as Nirsch leaned against a fir tree, trying to appear as casual and relaxed as he could. Adam entered the meadow at a full gallop and nearly fell off Moe when he saw his dad.
“What took you so long?” Nirsch said. “I thought we were going to have to come back and look for you.”
“You guys cheated!”
“How did we cheat? You said you wanted to race, but you didn’t make any rules. We got here first, so we won!” Nirsch did a little dance and pointed at Adam, mocking him.
“Neener neener neener, we beat you ’cause you’re slow.”
Adam reined up and dismounted. No sooner did his feet hit the ground than a turkey gobbled from the trees at the far end of the meadow. Adam froze, wide eyed.
“Was that a turkey, Dad?”
“Yeah. It came from the other end of the meadow. Let’s tie the boys here, get in the tree line, and walk around the edge.”
The tom gobbled several more times before Nirsch and Adam got to the other side. Nirsch held up his hand, stopping Adam, and whispered, “He’s pretty fired up. If we can get close enough, we should be able to call him right in.”
Nirsch looked back at Adam. His son was tense, like a predator. Adam grinned from ear to ear as they tiptoed through the trees. They stopped a couple hundred yards from where Nirsch thought the bird had gobbled last. He pulled out the old box call and rubbed out a couple yelps. The tom gobbled instantly. Nirsch looked at Adam and smiled.
“What do we do?” Nirsch said.
Adam scratched his head. Nirsch always asked him what he thought in order to teach him something. That was the way his father taught Nirsch and his grandfather taught his dad. Nirsch figured you could teach people a fact and they might memorize it or you could teach them how to think and work out problems on their own.
“I think we should get closer,” Adam said, “but carefully. They won’t come to us if we aren’t a lot closer.”
Nirsch smiled at his boy and mussed his hair. “That’s what I think too.”<
br />
They jogged through the trees and cut the distance in half.
“Set up by that log,” Nirsch said. “Make sure you have your gun up and ready. I’m going to sit back about twenty yards.”
Nirsch turned to walk back. The tom gobbled again. He was answered by a second tom they hadn’t heard before.
“Change of plans,” Nirsch said. “I’m going to set up right next to you. If we call one bird in, you’re the shooter. Squeeze the trigger when you think he’s close enough. If two birds come in, you take the one on your side and I’ll take the one on my side. I’ll count to three and we’ll shoot at the same time.”
“Okay.”
Nirsch scratched out a seductive series of hen yelps, followed up by a few soft purrs and clucks. Both birds answered closer this time.
“They’re coming,” he said.
Both birds gobbled again. It sounded as if they were right next to each other. Adam turned and grinned. “I see them. They’re running.”
Nirsch peered through the trees. Sure enough, here they came. He clucked twice and set the box call down. He hoped they’d slow down when he clucked. They did, and walked in at a full strut.
“Don’t move,” he whispered. “They’re both nice, big birds. A little closer and we’ll take them. Get ready, steady, aim for the neck and head…one, two, three.”
Boom!
They shot at the same instant. Both birds tumbled backwards and started kicking.
“Good shot, son. Those are some beautiful birds.”
They set their shotguns down and ran over to the birds. Adam got to them first. “Look at the beard on mine. It’s huge.”
“I think your bird is bigger than mine, son. This is the biggest one you’ve ever shot.” Nirsch lifted Adam’s turkey. “I bet he’ll go eighteen to twenty pounds.”
Adam jumped and pumped his fist. “WooHoo!”
Nirsch gave Adam a high five and hugged him. “Grab your shotgun and throw that bird over your shoulder. We’ll go back and get the horses. We’ll take your bird to your mom, and I’ll give mine to Lorraine Becker. She can cook it up for Charlie and her.”
They got back to Joker and Moe, stowed their gear, and strapped both birds over Nirsch’s saddle horn along with Dusty’s carrier. They led the horses to the creek and let them drink their fill before riding off. After leaving the meadow, they cut over the top of Starr Ridge. There was still snow on top, and they stopped to have a snowball fight. They took their time riding to the Beckers’. It was a beautiful spring day. Nirsch didn’t want to waste a minute of it.
Two hours after they shot the turkeys, they rode into the Beckers’ driveway. Charlie had built the two-story log home by hand in the early eighties. Flower boxes under the windows were heavy with daffodils and tulips in full bloom. Loraine was proud of her flowers, and beamed whenever someone complimented her on them.
“Hello Beckers!” Nirsch shouted.
No one answered.
Nirsch called again. “Charlie, Lorraine, it’s Nirsch!”
Silence.
“Wait here, Adam. I’m going to knock on the door and look around.”
Nirsch handed Adam the reins, walked up to the front door, and knocked loudly. No one came to the door, so he walked across the porch and looked in a window. The house was a mess. There were dirty dishes scattered around the front room. Several blankets and pillows were spread out in various locations.
“What the … ”
Nirsch could see through the living room to the kitchen on the right side of the house, which was opposite the stairway leading to the second floor. The swinging door that led to the kitchen had been torn from its hinges and lay on the floor.
Something was definitely wrong. It looked like someone—or several someones—had moved in. The question was, where were the Beckers, and where were the new tenants?
He glanced at the fireplace in the back wall, just to the left of the kitchen door—a few coals still smoldered on the hearth. Nirsch backed off the porch, carefully looked around, and mounted Joker. He unstrapped his Colt and checked the cylinder.
“What’s wrong, Dad?” Adam said.
“Shhh,” Nirsch hissed. “Don’t talk. Follow me.”
They rode out of the driveway and got back under the cover of the trees.
“Adam, move up in front. When I tell you to, ride hard toward Starr Ridge. Don’t slow down until we’re over the top.”
“What’s wrong, Dad? Why didn’t we leave them a turkey?”
“I’ll explain later. Now go, ride hard!”
They took off at a gallop and were covered with scratches and bruises by the time they broke over the top of the ridge and started down the other side.
“So much for taking our time and enjoying the day,” Nirsch muttered.
They got back to the ranch at about 7:30, just as the sun was going down.
“Adam, I want you to take care of Moe and Joker,” Nirsch said, “and saddle up Larry, Curly, and Copper. Make sure they all have scabbards. Then I need you to clean these birds, clean both shotguns, and have your mom put them away. I’m going to the house to talk to your Mom, and then over to Bill’s. We have some things to do.”
“Okay, Dad. What’s happening? Where were Mr. and Mrs. Becker?”
“I don’t know, son. That’s what I need to find out. I think they may be in danger.”
“Be careful, Dad. And Dad, thanks for taking me hunting today.”
“Anytime buddy. Now you’d better get busy, you’ve got a lot to do.”
Nirsch handed Adam the turkeys and Joker’s reins.
“I’ll see you in a while, son.”
Nirsch walked into the house. Michelle sat in front of the wood-stove reading a book.
She looked up and smiled. “Hey, how was the hunt? You guys get anything? Sit down and I’ll get your dinner.”
Nirsch didn’t return the smile. “Yes, we got two, but I’ll let Adam fill you in when he’s done with his chores. No thanks on dinner. I’m not really that hungry.”
Michelle’s smile faded. “What’s wrong? Is Adam all right? Did you guys have an argument?”
“No, we had a great hunt. Is Jillian home yet?”
“Yes, I think she’s taking a bath.”
“Okay. I need you to go get her. Have her get dressed, saddle up Trixi, and head over to the Hansons’. Tell her to have Pat and Brett saddle a couple of horses and get over here as soon as they can. Tell her to make sure Pat brings his elk rifle.”
“What’s going on, Nirsch?”
“The Beckers are missing, and I think someone is squatting in their house. Adam and I couldn’t find them when we were there. The house’s been broken into. It looks like several people were crashing out in the living room, and there was no sign of Charlie or Lorraine.”
23
BOISE, IDAHO
APRIL 20
CHAD ELLISON OPENED HIS EYES, YAWNED, STRETCHED, AND reached for his wife. He touched the cool pillow where she was supposed to be.
“Katie?”
She didn’t answer.
His breath hung like a cloud in the cold bedroom. April was more than half over, yet Treasure Valley was still in the clutches of a cold snap. It hadn’t been above freezing for two weeks.
He called out to Katie again.
Her response came from across the house. “Are you going to lie there all day? Come and get your breakfast.”
Chad braced himself for a shock, threw back the covers, and jumped out of bed. When the cold hit, he wanted to crawl back under the layers of warm blankets, but knew better. He’d decided long ago that the only way to enter an icy cold swimming pool, or expose yourself to frigid air in a house without heat, was to close your eyes and jump in with reckless abandon. Until five months ago, Chad had been a lineman for Idaho Power, and had worked outdoors since he was nineteen. He was used to being exposed to the elements on his job, but those elements were supposed to be outside, not in his bedroom.
He quickly put o
n thermal underwear and layers of clothing, finishing off with a Columbia parka and wool cap, grumbling the whole time. He thought of his sister in Phoenix and his aunt in San Diego. He was sure they weren’t cold right now.
Chad walked to the kitchen with his head down and his hands in his coat pockets. Katie was ladling steaming Quaker Oats out of a pot on top of their propane camp stove.
“Hot cereal again?” he said.
“Enjoy it while you can,” Katie said. “We only have three propane canisters left. We’ll be out in a week. Then it’s cold, freeze-dried food.”
“Where are the boys?” Chad asked through a mouthful of flavorless mush.
“They went to check on their grandparents an hour ago. Should be back anytime.”
Chad took another bite of the hot gruel and looked out the window at frost-covered tree branches. Freezing fog had blanketed the valley for three days, and the sun was just starting to burn through the haze. Small patches of blue sky were starting to show above the silvery earth. He could see smoke curling from some of the chimneys in his neighbor’s houses and felt a twinge of jealousy. He and Katie had purchased their house a year earlier, and hadn’t had the time or the money to add a woodstove to the electric heat already installed.
“Too late now,” Chad muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing. I was just thinking how nice it would be to have a fire to sit in front of.”
“It’s not too late. You can always go to the fairgrounds and negotiate with Mayor Reid.”
The last thing Chad wanted to do was deal with Boise’s mayor. Within two months of the power going out, and after the rioting ceased, Gary Reid had sent sheriff’s deputies and city police officers house to house, taking a census of survivors. The houses that were abandoned were searched, their valuable resources confiscated and stored in a warehouse at the fairgrounds. If you needed anything stored there, the mayor would negotiate a trade with you for each item. People traded food, guns, ammunition, medicine, bicycles, and other survival items. The mayor’s police force guarded the warehouse day and night. Chad had heard rumors of some of the more desperate people trading their wives and daughters for essentials. The mayor would have his fun with them for a few days, then move on to the next ones. Sometimes those loved ones disappeared.
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