Stalking Ground

by Margaret Mizushima

  “Can we help you pack so you can get started?” Angie asked. “We can’t leave Mattie up there in the cold.”

  Her reply would make any parent proud. “Thanks, Angel. I hoped you’d feel that way.”

  “What about our appointment tomorrow morning with Miss Carmen Sandiego?” Sophie asked, referring to a cartoon character she watched on the Internet.

  “Sophie-bug, you’re a genius. How did you remember that?”

  She looked smug. “I just did.”

  “I’ll call her when I’m on my way and reschedule for tomorrow afternoon. You girls plan to go with me then, okay?”

  After getting their agreement, he set off to explain the situation to Mrs. Gibbs and round up his supplies.

  Chapter 11

  Mattie stacked another stone on the rock wall she was building on the opposite side of her fire pit, its purpose to reflect heat back toward her and Robo. She’d decided to set up shelter in the leeward side of a boulder about forty feet from the grave, close enough to guard without feeling like she was on top of it.

  A few hours earlier, the gray skies had opened up to dump snow in the high country, and now several inches covered the ground. White shrouds draped the evergreens, and Mattie’s breath fogged the air. She stamped her feet and held her cold hands above the fire for a moment.

  After sundown she’d given up hope of someone coming, and she’d resigned herself to a miserable night. Robo had dogged her tracks while she searched for deadfall to build a makeshift lean-to. It wasn’t much, but without a hatchet, it was the best she could do. He lay next to the fire watching her work, one of his favorite pastimes.

  She raised her face to the sky, feeling icy snowflakes spatter her cheeks. “Looks like it’s just you and me tonight, Robo.”

  She could swear he quirked his eyebrows in agreement.

  Protect and serve, she thought. Even the dead.

  She fed Robo a cup of food, saving the last for morning. Her own stomach rumbled with hunger. Settling into her sparse shelter, she peeled the wrapper off an energy bar, the only food she had left.

  Her thoughts went back to Adrienne. Who could have buried her way up here? And how did she die?

  Then a terrible scream echoed down the draw. It sounded like a woman. Mattie dropped her food and rose to her feet, drawing her Glock. Robo leapt up barking, the hair rising on his back. She stood beside him, her service weapon in hand.

  Gradually, it dawned on her what she’d heard. In all the years she’d lived in Timber Creek, she’d never heard it before. Hunters spoke of the eerie sound: the scream of a mountain lion. And it was close.

  “Holy shit,” she muttered, shuddering from the adrenaline that shot through her system.

  She peered into the darkness outside the ring of her campfire light. Mountain lion attacks weren’t frequent in this wilderness, the huge cats preferring to shy away from human contact. But they weren’t unheard of. She kept hold of her handgun while she turned a slow circle, completing a visual probe of the surrounding area. Nothing.

  Robo stood motionless, staring off to her left. His hackles stood at attention, and he huffed an angry sound from deep in his chest.

  “Where is it, Robo?”

  She fired one shot into the air, hoping to scare the lion away. Robo glanced at her when the gun fired but turned back to stare into the night. Creeping forward, she stepped outside the firelight and paused to allow her eyes to adjust. The brilliant whiteness of the newly fallen snow cast a ghostly light on the clearing. Adrienne’s grave lay undisturbed, the black plastic sheet now blanketed in white.

  Robo stayed at her side, quiet and steady, searching with her. He seemed less upset than he’d been before, so maybe her gunshot had done the trick. If the cat stayed near enough, she would probably be able to see firelight reflect in its eyes, and she could see nothing like that.

  “Is it gone, Robo?”

  Not taking his eyes off the forest, he waved his tail once before standing guard. They waited in place for several minutes; Mattie’s heartbeat slowly resumed its normal pace. Robo began to relax somewhat, shifting his eyes between the tree line and her, as if checking to see what to do next. She decided that meant the danger had passed.

  Keeping her gun in hand, she went back to the fire and threw another log on the flames. “This fire should help,” she said aloud, thinking it might be the best protection she and Robo had from predators. At least the four-legged kind.

  A branch snapped behind her. She whirled, taking a shooting stance and pointing out at the darkness. She stepped to the side, slipping away from the firelight, making sure it wouldn’t backlight her silhouette. A growl rumbled from Robo as he came with her.

  She waited. When Robo settled and there was no further sound, she began to feel silly. The mountain lion’s scream had set her on edge. She needed to calm down. Drawing a breath, she turned back to the fire, deciding to build it up to an enormous height for both security and heat.

  Robo faced the forest, keeping watch. A gust of wind swirled the falling snow, blurring the boundary between clearing and trees. As the logs in her fire caught and blazed hot, Mattie eyed her dwindling woodpile. She couldn’t afford to let the fire die down, but she didn’t want to sacrifice the deadfall in her shelter. Soon, she’d be forced to leave the safety of the firelight to gather more wood.

  She kept an eye on her dog, knowing he would alert her to danger. While she waited, she warmed her fingers and toes and a layer of white formed on Robo’s back. It took a long time, but eventually he let down his guard and returned to her side, looking up at her and waving his tail, apparently seeking warmth and reassurance. “You’re a good boy.” Mattie squatted beside him and held him close as the fire danced and snapped. They stayed together sharing body heat until it started to wane.

  “We have to get some more wood.” She hated to go into the forest, but she’d already gathered the small amount of easy fuel she’d found nearby. “Let’s go.”

  Taking her flashlight from her utility belt, she crossed the small clearing and entered a world caught between shadow and luminescence. Robo stayed in front, occasionally stopping to stare off between the snow-covered pines. Then he would dart back to her side before heading off again. Mattie pressed the light on and swept it in widening arcs as she searched for logs and branches that would fit into her fire pit but still provide a prolonged burn.

  It was slow going, but she gathered and carried enough wood for two trips back to her campsite. After sizing up her stack, she decided one more trip might fill the quota she needed to keep her fire burning throughout the night. Returning to the forest, Robo alternated between staying close and turning away to scan the area. Mattie trained the flashlight for him but, always seeing nothing, she decided to hurry, gather the wood she needed, and get back to the safety of the fire.

  She tugged at some deadfall, searching for logs, and uncovered a strange sight. Focusing her flashlight, she could see bits of fur, hide, and small bones. Probably rabbit. And here . . . hair from a fox?

  Robo chuffed a series of short growls from deep in his chest, pressing against her legs. She flicked the light on him; his hackles were raised. Her own neck prickled. She could swear she was being watched.

  She followed Robo’s stare and directed her flashlight in that direction. Two orbs glowed, reflecting the beam.

  She dropped the wood she’d gathered and reached for her Glock. Robo exploded. With a ferocious bark, he rushed the mountain lion. Mattie’s light showed her what he was up against: a huge cougar, snarling and hissing, sharp teeth bared, backed up against a boulder.

  Robo charged, his hair puffed up, making him look twice his size, vicious. Mattie raised her weapon and sighted in on the cat. Before she could squeeze off the shot, Robo feinted close, snapping his jaws and barking, blocking her shot. The lion swiped bared claws at him. Robo jumped back.

  In a split second, Mattie decided to fire into the air. Even as she raised her weapon, the lion attacked. Robo whirled
away but hit a tree. The lion went after him and closed in—too close. Robo dodged. The two animals tangled. Fur, snow, and pine needles flew around them.

  Mattie screamed and fired her gun into the air. She rushed toward her partner, shouting, hoping she could break up the fight and get a clean shot. The lion broke off and turned away. She could see its tawny color, its long black-tipped tail. The cat was huge . . . six to seven feet from head to tail. Robo charged after it.

  “Robo,” she screamed. “Out!”

  Robo hesitated, poised to launch himself at the lion. Mattie shot into the air, calling Robo back to her at the same time. With her dog out of the way, she could try to shoot the monstrous cat, but she knew that Robo might dart into the line of fire, so she held the shot. She’d almost emptied her gun’s magazine, and she needed to preserve the rounds she had left.

  The cat slipped out of sight into the forest, its golden fur tarnished by dark patches. Bloody spots where Robo had gotten in his licks. Robo stood guard, growling, each hair on his body at attention. Mattie shone her light on him, searching for wounds. Blood glistened on his shoulder, forming a rivulet that splashed red drops onto the snow. He sank to lie down, still watching the spot where the cat disappeared.

  Her gut tightened when she saw the blood. “Robo.”

  He struggled to sit, staring after the lion. Mattie went to him, realizing he’d chosen his duty to protect her over his own safety.

  She knelt at his side, snow chilling her knees through her jeans. “You’re hurt.”

  In the glow of her flashlight, she could see a gaping slash on his shoulder. Bloody patches showed her other wounds on his face and neck. A brief look at these didn’t alarm her. They looked superficial. But his poor shoulder.

  After sending one last gunshot into the air, Mattie stood and asked Robo to heel. He weighed almost as much as she did, and she feared she couldn’t carry him. He stayed by her side, limping, while she gathered the wood she’d dropped and headed back to the campsite, refusing to leave behind their hard-won bounty. She observed him as they went. She prayed the damage wasn’t too severe. He continuously stopped, chuffing his displeasure and looking behind. “Robo, come.”

  Back in the relative security of the campsite, Mattie dumped the wood and threw a log on the fire. Taking an extra magazine from her utility belt, she reloaded and holstered her Glock. She took out her first aid kit, bent to retrieve her water supply from her backpack, and called Robo to her. Sitting on a large log she’d placed near the shelter, she gently cleaned his wounds. Inspecting the shoulder injury, she saw that it was about four inches long. She cleaned it the best she could by sloshing water on it. Blood flowed steadily and it looked horrible. She fought the bile that rose in her throat.

  She pressed a gauze pad on the wound and bound it tight with an elasticized bandage. It was a tricky place to wrap, but she alternated between chest and ribcage and was satisfied with the job. The bandage appeared to apply pressure at the shoulder without infringing on his neck and airway. “There.”

  She hugged him close while she gently applied more pressure on the wound. It was important to stop the bleeding. He could bleed to death from a tear this big. She buried her nose in the fur at his neck, continuing to apply pressure on the bandage with her hand. What should she do? Stay here and guard Adrienne’s grave or take Robo down for medical care?

  He licked her face, a stolen kiss. She usually didn’t allow him to lick, but this time she made an exception. “Be still now. Let me hold you.”

  Robo started to shiver. Was it from shock? Blood loss? Still holding him close, she leaned back so that she could see his face. He tipped his head to gaze up at her, looking into her eyes. “Are you okay?” He trembled, and she placed her cheek against his.

  She realized she was shivering, too. She knew her trembling was from the letdown after the adrenaline had charged her system. Maybe that’s what was going on with Robo. She hoped so.

  They sat together for a long time, Mattie holding Robo while she pressed directly on the gauze bandage. Shivers that wracked his body gradually subsided as he relaxed against her.

  The cat screamed again, this time from farther away. Robo struggled against her, facing the eerie sound and trying to stand. Mattie wouldn’t let him and continued to hold him close. “It’s okay, boy. I think it’s going away. At least for now.”

  Shining her flashlight on the gauze pad, she saw that blood had saturated through but was no longer dripping. She noted the size of the stain. She would check it again in a half hour to see how much larger the bloodstain had grown.

  She couldn’t go anywhere while Robo was still bleeding. It was imperative she stop the blood flow, or she could lose her partner. And she wasn’t going to let that happen. Covering the wound to hold it tightly, she settled onto the log and hugged her dog. It was going to be a long night.

  Chapter 12

  Snowflakes gave off tiny hissing sounds as they fell into the fire. The storm didn’t show any sign of letting up. She’d checked Robo’s bandage a couple times and thought the blood flow was slowing.

  “Mattie!” she heard a voice shout off to the east. “Mattie! It’s Cole!”

  “Cole!” she called to him. “We’re over here.”

  Robo pulled against her to stand, so she let him, not wanting him to struggle and aggravate the bleeding.

  “I see your fire,” Cole called out. Moments later he materialized through the trees, the shod hooves of the horse he rode creating a muffled click against snow-covered rocks as he approached.

  She walked out to greet him as he dismounted, and when he opened his arms, it felt natural for her to step into his embrace to give him a hug. His arms and body were warm; the fabric of his down coat felt smooth against her cheek as she rested it against his chest. He smelled of winter, snow, and pine forest. But it took only a few moments for her to grow uncomfortable with their closeness. She shivered.

  “You’re cold,” he said.

  “A bit,” she said, pulling away. She avoided his eyes, looking at Robo instead. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you. Robo’s been hurt. Mountain lion attack.”

  Concern filled Cole’s face. “Robo, come here. Let me take a look at you.”

  Cole bent over the dog while Mattie trained the flashlight and regained her composure. Cole’s arrival created such a wave of relief; she thought she might melt into the ground.

  “I think I’ve been able to slow the blood flow. But the stain has gotten bigger, so it must still be seeping,” she said.

  “I’m not going to take the bandage off yet. It’s best to keep some pressure on it, and let’s make an icepack with some snow to put on it. That ought to stop the bleeding.”

  “I didn’t think of that.”

  Cole stood up. “You’ve done a great job. Let me unpack some things and look for a plastic bag to make that pack.”

  Mattie started toward her own backpack. “I have an evidence bag we can use.”

  “Are you okay, Mattie? The lion didn’t get at you, did it?”

  “No, I’m fine. Robo got between us.”

  “He’s a brave dog.”

  She leaned down to scoop snow into the evidence bag. “He is. We were both pretty shaken up afterward.”

  Cole placed a hand on her shoulder. “I can imagine.”

  Mattie bent toward Robo to refocus attention on him. Cole took the bag from her, tied the top, and handed it back.

  “Hold this against the bandage while I unpack,” he said.

  Mattie settled down onto the log and pulled Robo in to cradle him against her chest. She pressed the makeshift icepack over the gauze pad. “We’d decided we were going to have to stay here by ourselves tonight.”

  “I couldn’t let that happen.”

  “Thank goodness. Did you hear the lion scream?”

  “I did,” he said, while he unpacked the panniers. “It’s the eeriest sound in the world.”

  “It scared the bejesus out of me when I first hea
rd it. I decided to build up the fire and went to get wood. That’s when it attacked.”

  “Atypical behavior,” Cole said. “But I suppose this time of year, it could have been a female with a cub.”

  “I saw fur and bones in the area right before it jumped Robo.”

  “You might have stumbled onto a cache. They often store a kill and come back to it. Especially if they’re feeding babies.” He paused and looked around, searching outside the ring of light made by the fire. “Where is Adrienne buried?”

  “About forty feet over that way.” Mattie nodded toward the site. “I also have some evidence marked out between here and there. I camped here to keep anyone who might come from accidentally disturbing it.”

  “I’ll stay away. Poor Adrienne. I feel terrible about this. I didn’t know her well, but what I knew was all good.”

  “That’s what I’ve gathered.” Mattie wondered if the dead woman’s soul still lingered and was listening in.

  “Do you know how she died?”

  Cole’s participation in the sheriff’s posse gave him a semiofficial status. And after he’d ridden up here in the face of a snowstorm to help, she felt like she could give him information—what little she had to share. “Not yet. But she’s buried in an unmarked grave. I doubt if it was natural causes.”

  “Good God, what’s happening around here?”

  Mattie shrugged. “It’s hard to say. I doubt if this is related to last summer’s deaths.”

  Cole had taken off the leather panniers and began to unsaddle his horse. “I’m lucky this fellow has been up here before. He seemed to know his way. When I started out, I could see the tapes that marked the trail. But once it got dark and started to snow, things got dicey.”

  “How did you manage?”

  “I had a flashlight, and Mountaineer stuck to the trail like a mountain goat. He stopped when he reached the cairn you built.”

  “I built it where it would mark the place to leave the trail.”

  “It did the job.” Cole was unpacking the panniers. “Here’s my kit. I never go hunting without one.”