The Replacement

by Anne Marie Duquette

  No radio, no doctor, no brother, no Lindsey, no clear weather, and to add to her worries, Ginger wasn’t eating. Naomi had never felt so alone. In truth, she’d never been so alone. She’d always had the comfort of her twin and her parents, then her husband as well. Even after her husband had died, she’d still had Eric. Only now there was no one except a very sick man whose love for her might cost him his life. The fear she felt almost matched her shame.

  Eric never falls apart without me. Even when he and Lindsey split up, he carried on. He stood on his own two feet… So did Lindsey.

  Naomi seriously wondered if she could do the same. She suddenly realized just how different she and her twin were, and how alike Eric and Lindsey were. They were independent people who made their own decisions, lived by the consequences of those decisions, and didn’t need each other as a security blanket, but as a true helpmate. Despite their age being the same, Eric had always been the dominant twin—but only because Naomi had preferred it that way. She had wanted him to make the tough decisions, so much so that she’d even followed him into the ranger service after her husband died instead of remaining at the urban hospital that had employed her.

  No wonder Lindsey didn’t want to marry Eric. Who’d want me along as baggage?

  And with the innate honesty that marked her whole family, she realized something else. I had problems in my marriage because too many times I turned to Eric instead of Bruce. If he hadn’t died, we might have ended up in divorce court. It would’ve been my fault. Except for Eric, I’ve never really trusted anyone—not even myself. God, I’m such an idiot.

  And now a man might die if she didn’t make the right decisions. A dog, too…

  She might die, as well, if she didn’t get hold of herself. She started to cry, her face in her hands, then she yanked her hands away and jerked her chin up. This was no time for tears. First, she’d check on Keith again. Second, go outside to get more wood and check on the mobile radio antenna. Third, cook up some lunch and insist that she, Keith and Ginger eat, even if she had to force-feed the dog. The dog was a ranger, and Naomi had sworn to guard the health of them all.

  Then she’d get out her medical books and read up on anatomy and the surgical procedure for lancing a deep wound. She couldn’t count on anyone right now except herself.

  Naomi refused to wipe at the tears on her cheeks, refused to acknowledge that they were even there. She checked on Keith, pulled on her outdoor gear, grabbed the wood basket sling and headed outside into the falling snow.

  KEITH OPENED HIS EYES at the sound of the front cabin door closing. He immediately noticed that Naomi’s boots and gear were gone. Despite his fever-induced vertigo, he rose, retrieved the rifle and staggered to the window to make sure he could see her and anyone else who might venture into the area. With Ginger not eating again, he didn’t trust the dog to alert them to intruders. He saw Naomi stumble through a particularly deep drift of snow. Her slight bulk was obviously no match for the elements, and since the others’ departure, shoveling detail had been abandoned, other than keeping the doors clear.

  He leaned against the window ledge, rifle at his side. She was a skilled medical caregiver. Keith knew that firsthand. But she was lousy at taking care of herself, which made her a lousy ranger. Unlike Lindsey or Eric or Keith himself, Naomi refused to acknowledge her limitations, or worse, deluded herself about her abilities. That made her a disaster waiting to happen, just like Eva.

  Why on earth did she ever became a ranger? Then he swore, since of course he knew the answer to that question. She couldn’t bear to be separated from Eric. Only in this case, the family business hadn’t been as kind to Naomi as to her twin. Keith knew her parents were professional adventurers. They traveled all over the world, climbed mountains, navigated jungles, rafted down uncharted, rapid-filled waters. Eric must have inherited some of their stamina; he had no problems with physical or mental challenges. He wouldn’t have been appointed head ranger if he had.

  So what did Naomi do? Lean on her brother whenever possible—only now her brother was missing. Keith didn’t bother pretending confidence when Naomi wasn’t around. Eric and Lindsey were either safely away with Pam, or dead. In a Yosemite winter, there was very little middle ground. Keith would’ve given anything to help Naomi more—but he could hardly stand, let alone do his share of strenuous work. He felt the same helplessness he’d felt when Eva had disappeared.

  Some places aren’t for any man or woman to try and tame. Yosemite’s one of them.

  He closed his eyes, but only for a few seconds. He continued to watch Naomi until she came back with the load of wood, waiting to open the porch doors for her.

  “Thanks,” Naomi gasped, barely able to get in the door with her load.

  “Here, let me help.”

  “No, I can manage. Lock the doors if you’re up to it and get back into bed.”

  Keith heard the firmness in her voice, saw the huge load she’d slung over her shoulder, felt his own unsteadiness, and for once didn’t argue. She might be a bit lacking in the common sense department, but at least she’s got nerve. Not that nerve was much of a defense against a high-powered rifle. Nor would it console Naomi if her brother, along with Lindsey and Pam, were dead.

  I wish I knew how they’re doing. Still, Ric and Lindsey were tough enough to protect Pam and to survive. He only prayed the same could be said of himself…and Naomi.

  Motel

  Day 7, 9:00 p.m.

  LINDSEY’S LONG NAP HAD not materialized. The issuing of new gear had taken longer than anticipated; so had replenishing their trail mix and other dried foods. Coupled with the drive up and back in the snow, it’d had been dark before they’d arrived back at the motel with a hastily purchased take-out order of pasta, salad and garlic bread. Both passed on going to a restaurant for a nicer dinner with wine. The weather forecast predicted heavy snow until midnight. Neither wanted to be on the slippery roads with backed-up traffic, not to mention the slow-moving snowplows, in the dark. By the time they’d made it back to the motel with the food, it was far too late for a nap. So they planned to eat dinner and go immediately to bed.

  Eric grimaced. “This sauce is terrible.”

  Lindsey sat cross-legged on the bed, where she’d joined him, and was still eating her salad. Eric rarely complained about food. “Maybe we should’ve ordered the pizza, instead.”

  “Not if they use the same sauce. Here.” He held out his fork with a fresh twist of pasta.

  Lindsey leaned over and opened her mouth for the bite and quickly confirmed Eric’s suspicions. “It tastes like ketchup over noodles.”

  Eric slid aside his plastic bin of spaghetti. “At least the garlic bread’s good.”

  “We have some leftovers from yesterday in the minifridge,” Lindsey reminded him. “Plus trail mix. Want me to get you some?”

  “No, thanks. I’ll fill up on bread and salad. If nothing else, the portions are generous.” He sighed. “I’m getting too old for this.”

  Lindsey’s heart went out to him. She reached for his hand across the jumble of plastic tins, forks, napkins, bread. “What do you want, Eric?”

  He raised his head. “For starters, some decent food.”

  “I mean, what do you really want?” she asked.

  He paused, then answered. “A home. Family. You. Mostly you.”

  “Oh, Eric…after everything that’s happened between us—thank you for that,” Lindsey said in a shaky voice.

  “What do you want?”

  Lindsey hadn’t expected his answer, or his question. “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I thought I did…but I’m not sure anymore. It seems I’m always on the fence, damned if I do and damned if I don’t. When I worked with canines, you weren’t happy. When I worked without them, I wasn’t happy. If I stay here, I miss my family. If I go home, I miss you. After four years, I still miss you…especially our friendship.” She stopped before breaking down into tears. The time for that was long past.

  “T
hank you for that,” Eric said, quietly echoing her earlier statement, their hands clasped.

  Lindsey smiled. “You’re so lucky, Ric. You know what you want out of life, personally and professionally. I’m still trying to balance the two without driving myself crazy. But every time I think I’ve got the right combination—chaos.” Her smile faded, and she lifted her face, her expression serious. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get it right, but I keep trying.”

  “Do you think maybe…we could give it another try?”

  “Oh, Ric, I don’t know. It’s tempting, but I just don’t know.”

  Behind them, the TV Eric had earlier turned on continued with the news. When the anchorman announced the weather would be next, “after these commercial breaks,” they looked at each other, then at the TV, and their fingers awkwardly slipped apart. Lindsey ate some more of her salad and the now-cold garlic bread as Eric turned up the volume using the remote.

  Ten minutes later he turned it off, and kept the conversation on business. “The snow should stop sometime tonight, and the next three days are clear. If we leave day after tomorrow, that gives us an extra day’s rest.”

  “But if we leave tomorrow, that gets us back to Keith and Naomi one day earlier.”

  “I’ll admit I’ve considered it. But are you up to it?” Eric asked. “And be honest, Lindsey. There’s a lot riding on this.”

  “I’m ready to go. We’ve got all our gear and supplies. I’m mobile, unlike Keith. As a result of his injury, Naomi can’t leave, either. That worries me where Wilson’s concerned.”

  Eric repeated Mrs. Wilson’s words. “He’s even more dangerous around strangers, Joyce said. That’s why I want you to be sure about coming back with me.”

  “Trust me, Eric, I’m up to the task. I’ll have plenty of time to rest when I know everyone’s safe.”

  “Good. Frankly, I’m worried Wilson will make an attack on the cabin once the weather’s cleared.”

  Lindsey’s eyes opened wide. “But he doesn’t know we’re not there! It’s four adults against one. Three, if he realized Keith was hurt.”

  “He can’t have food and fuel stockpiled like we do. He’ll need those soon, and he’ll want his daughter. If he still thinks we’re all in the same place, sooner or later he’s going to be forced to move. I want to be there. Keith and Naomi aren’t capable of dealing with him.”

  “They should both be in the hospital,” Lindsey agreed. “Ginger belongs with me, and Wilson belongs in jail.”

  Eric nodded. “We’ll get a good night’s sleep, and if weather permits, leave at first light for the base of the pass. I’ll give the main office a call and make arrangements for them to pick up the vehicle there.”

  By the time they were ready for bed, all the plans had been worked out to their satisfaction…except that this time, Eric didn’t offer to hold Lindsey throughout the night, nor did she ask. She slept in her bed alone, the distance between her and Eric seeming as great as the distance between the motel and the rangers’ cabin in Yosemite.

  Or greater…

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Tioga Pass, entrance to Yosemite

  Day 8, noon

  “WE’VE MADE GOOD TIME,” Eric said as he and Lindsey rested at the top of the pass.

  Lindsey nodded. “And it’s downhill all the way from here. Goodbye, climbing boots and snowshoes. Hello, skis.”

  “And rifle. And extra caution,” Eric added.

  “Of course,” Lindsey said lightly. So far, they’d had no complaints. The earlier avalanche had made their ascent of the pass less dangerous at least, as far as snow slides went. While the temperature was below freezing, there was no wind or any subsequent chill factor. The sun shone brightly in the winter-blue sky, and the snow reflected back some heat. The physical activity had helped to work out most of the soreness in her muscles, and what remained would certainly be eased on the downhill part of the journey.

  Eric bent toward the sled to start exchanging one set of footgear for another, and to retrieve and load the rifle. Lindsey followed his example with the footgear, then poured their cups full of hot cocoa while he used the binoculars to study their descent, mentally working out the safest trail. She’d insisted on having their predawn breakfast at the truck stop with the fantastic coffee, and wished they could’ve filled both their large thermoses with more of it to take with them. Unfortunately, coffee and its diuretic properties could cause dehydration. Hot chocolate or sports drinks were the norm for longer treks. Both preferred warm drinks to cold. When Eric finished with the binoculars, she passed him his cup of cocoa. He took a sip and frowned.

  “It can’t be cold, yet,” she protested.

  “No…” He continued to sip, his expression thoughtful.

  “Then what?”

  “I’m going to cache the sled and snowshoes,” he said, using the Old West term for safely placing or burying gear that mule-drawn wagons could no longer afford to carry, but was too valuable to dump. “Whatever we need can go in our packs. I want to travel light and fast.”

  Her pulse sped. “Did you see something? Wilson?”

  “No, but that doesn’t mean we won’t. The skiing conditions are too good for him not to be out and about. I know I would. We’ve got more sleds and snowshoes at the cabin. I want to reach it as soon as possible. You up to it?” he asked.

  “As long as the sun holds out…” She lifted her cup and grinned. “I could even climb Mount Lyell,” she said, naming Yosemite’s highest peak.

  “Let’s settle for the main cabin first,” he said, grinning back at her. He drained his cup, replaced it and the thermos in his pack, then adjusted the rifle’s carrying strap and gathered his ski poles. “Ready?”

  “Whenever you are.”

  “Let’s go.”

  Rangers’ winter cabin

  Midafternoon

  “I WISH YOU’D GO BACK TO BED,” Naomi said, fretting. “This can’t be good for you. We have Ginger to keep watch.”

  “Ginger’s not eating—she’s getting weak. I don’t trust her.” Wrapped in a blanket, Keith had moved a chair next to the window, his rifle resting in his lap. “If I’m gonna die, I’m taking Wilson with me. Sooner or later he’ll come here. He’s got nowhere else to go.”

  “You’re not going to die. You’ll be fine before you know it,” Naomi said firmly, although Keith’s fever-flushed cheeks, shaking hands and hunched figure said otherwise.

  “Don’t treat me like an idiot. I’m not.”

  “I am,” she replied quietly. “I’m sorry you’re stuck with me as your only backup. I don’t belong out here, Keith. I never did. I’ve just been trailing after my twin.”

  Keith didn’t argue, a fact that hurt, but not nearly as much as avoiding the truth. She continued while she still had the courage.

  “Except for my medical skills, I don’t expect any vote of confidence. But I want you to know I’ll do my best for you—for us both.”

  “Well. At least some good’s come out of this mess.”

  Naomi straightened and lifted her chin. “If that’s what you want to call it. I’d like you to do something for me.”

  “What?”

  “Teach me how to use that rifle.”

  Museum cabin

  WILSON TOOK STOCK OF HIS meager supplies. The food and fuel would only last another two days, and Yosemite didn’t provide much of either in the winter. Fortunately, the snow had stopped, and he suspected tomorrow’s weather would be clear as well. Once the sun began to set and visibility became limited, he intended to make an assault on the cabin. They wouldn’t expect him that soon, and he might as well shoot it out now, instead of starving or freezing to death later. He’d also find out if Pam had really gone with the other two. If not, he’d retrieve her, then somehow he’d get her across the border to Canada. Maybe he should consider Mexico. He hadn’t decided, yet.

  He checked his watch, then studied the sun’s position in the sky. He’d leave in half an hour, before the sun started to
set. That would give him enough twilight for his raid on the cabin, and he’d be ready for a good dinner afterward.

  Courtesy of the rangers’ pantry.

  “I WISH THESE RADIOS WORKED.” Their radios hadn’t connected with the cabin, yet. “How much longer until we reach the cabin?” Lindsey asked. “Another half hour?”

  “If that,” Eric replied. They’d stopped for another break—which Lindsey hoped would be their last before making the cabin.

  “We should get there about sunset if we keep up our pace,” he said. “I don’t want to be out here after dark if at all possible. Not with the way the temperature’s dropping.”

  “Let’s go, then.”

  Twenty minutes later the cabin’s general area with its copse of trees was in sight.

  “My God, Ric, look! The whole antenna tower’s missing!”

  Eric, who’d been concentrating on carefully picking out their trail in the failing light, turned his head at her exclamation. His sharp eyes caught the movement that Lindsey had missed. In seconds he’d tilted sideways in a fall that brought down both of them. Before Lindsey could question his behavior, he had his rifle out and fired off two shots. Those shots were echoed by two more coming from the cabin’s direction—at least that was Lindsey’s impression. Her eyes were full of snow from Eric’s tackle. One remaining shot echoed in the High Sierra, then all was quiet. They remained silent and low to the ground, the coldness of the snow seeping through clothes and bodies, the cabin so close, yet so far.

  Minutes ticked by, and more, then the last of the winter’s short twilight blended into full darkness.

  “Kick off your skis and poles,” Eric ordered. “We’ll hike in and keep low the rest of the way.”

  “Try to reach the cabin again by radio,” Lindsey said urgently. “Or else we may have Keith shooting at us as well.”

  For the first time since they’d left, they connected with Naomi. Eric’s conversation with her was brief and terse.

  A tense, but thankfully short trek later, they reached the cabin door. Naomi greeted them with tears of relief, rifle in hand. “Thank God! Are you two all right?”