Proving Ground

by Stanalei Fletcher

  “Are you going to arrest me if I pull out a joint?”

  “Of course not,” Caitlin replied without hesitation.

  “How about if I pass it over to you?”

  “I'll decline. Politely.”

  Uncle Jack's hearty laugh rumbled from his boots. “That’s my Caity. Just need my ranger-boy nephew to stop by and we can have ourselves a sweet little tea party.”

  “I can’t see Mac riding in to join us,” Caitlin replied. Although the thought of him sharing her sleeping bag suddenly had an appeal.

  “Nah, Mac won’t be on this side of the gate, but you can bet he’s been enlisted to help on the other side.”

  “I suppose there’re as many badges out there as there are leather vests and patches on this side.” Obviously, her father wasn’t the only reason Mac was in town. For a rally this size, the local departments would recruit anyone not otherwise engaged, to help keep watch on the bikers.

  “You suppose right.” Jack unstrapped the leather saddlebag. “Come on. Let’s go find us a good spot to set up the tent.”

  Caitlin lifted her helmet off and hooked it over the back of the bike. Her backpack came off next. As it slid down her arms, she rolled her shoulders and followed Jack through the campground.

  Tall Douglas firs shaded various campsites. Several tents already dotted the green and gold landscape, some blending nicely with the foliage. Others, outlandish in bright blue, orange, and even a hot pink one, were easily spotted several yards away. The contrast of chrome and leather against the pristine mountain backdrop seemed surreal, even ridiculous. Except she would never joke about the tattooed bikers making their way into the campgrounds.

  The Sergeant of Arms stopped each biker as they approached the gateway that separated the fenced-in grounds from the public road. Caitlin supposed this large a gathering ran the risk of undercover law enforcement attempting to sneak in. She had no illusions that many members of these clubs had unsavory side businesses the authorities would love to investigate.

  She set her backpack on a picnic table and slid out of her leather jacket. As expected, sweat had soaked through her shirt, but the lighter khaki didn’t show the dampness too much. Next, she removed her chaps and shook loose her matching cargo pants. The cool mountain breeze felt great. After folding her leathers and placing them next to her backpack, she unzipped a side pocket and pulled out an olive green ball cap with a Rockton sporting goods store logo on the front.

  She turned when she heard Jack’s laugh.

  “If it wasn’t for your hair, someone might mistake you for a tree.” Jack eyed her as he removed his chaps.

  She grinned at him. “Old habits. Never did see the point of wearing nice clothes to a camp.” She looked around at some of the other campers. Many of the women wore tight, brightly colored tees or crop tops. “You’re not going to kick me out, are you?”

  “For not dressing like a bimbo?” Jack laughed while he kicked at pinecones and rocks to clear a place for the tent. “Not really your style, is it?”

  “No.” Laughing and shaking her head, she helped Jack prepare the ground for the tent. Movement off to her right caught her attention. Dunn, the man who’d met them at the gate, headed toward their site. However, before he reached their camping spot, he was intercepted by another man. Something about the other man struck her as familiar, but she didn’t think she knew him.

  Small in stature, with a straight nose and blond hair cropped close to his scalp, he seemed the exact opposite of Dunn. His leather jacket appeared stiff, probably new. Underneath the jacket, he wore a lime-green turtleneck. That had to be hot, even this late in the season. The way the man shifted from foot to foot, as though he was used to wearing something different, made Caitlin wonder if his boots were new too. He seemed too normal-looking for a gathering like this.

  Then again, she probably seemed a bit out of place, too. Jack MacAlistair wasn’t known for bringing a companion along. She’d be viewed as somewhat of an oddity. She didn’t care, as long as it didn’t hurt Uncle Jack’s reputation with his biker brothers.

  Caitlin returned to her task of clearing the ground. Satisfied that her sleeping bag wouldn’t rest on a jagged rock, she opened her pack and began separating items that would stay at camp from items she planned to take on her day-hike tomorrow. When she finished, she glanced at the men again. They were still talking. The other man, a head shorter than Dunn, seemed agitated, gesturing to the gate and then at one of the tents. Maybe they were bunking together and the man was upset because Dunn left him alone to set up. She held back a smile. She might have ridden up on the bitch-pad, but so far, she hadn’t had to pull housekeeping duty. Besides, whatever was going on between Dunn and his buddy wasn’t any of her business.

  Pulling her daypack out, she unrolled it and placed items for her hike inside. She glanced up again as Dunn turned in her direction. She couldn’t hear what the two men were arguing about, but Dunn’s expression stopped her cold.

  He looked scared.

  The emotion seemed so wrong for the big man that it took Caitlin by surprise. She studied the other man again. How did such a person evoke the fear she’d seen on the big biker’s face?

  Dunn started to walk toward Caitlin and Jack’s campsite. The smaller man grabbed Dunn by the arm and spun him around with surprising strength. He handed something to Dunn, but she couldn’t get a good look at the object with Dunn’s wide body blocking her view.

  Dunn shoved the item inside his vest. At the same time, a sensation of intense heat shimmied up Caitlin’s back. She gasped as an involuntary shudder coursed through her body. Where had that premonition come from?

  “Are you okay?” Jack sounded concerned.

  She looked away from the men to where Jack crouched, laying out the tent. “I’m fine,” she lied. “Just feeling the cool breeze where I was sweating.”

  Jack walked over to stand beside her.

  She turned to her attention back to the men as another exchange ensued. “What do you suppose that’s all about?” Caitlin nodded toward Dunn and the other man.

  “I don’t know,” Jack said quietly. “But I don’t like the looks of it. Stay put.” He stepped around the picnic table and took a couple of steps toward the two men. The smaller man spotted Jack and abruptly broke off the conversation, leaving Dunn to face Jack alone.

  “Hey, Jacko,” Dunn called. “I was just coming to see you.”

  “Who’s that?” Jack refused to be diverted.

  Dunn glanced at the other man retreating toward the other end of the campground and spat out an unflattering name.

  “Excuse me?” Jack raised his eyebrows.

  “He’s a hang-around. My wife’s brother from California.”

  Caitlin didn’t think twice about eavesdropping on Jack’s conversation. She understood hang-arounds. She’d be considered one too. What interested her was that sensation she’d felt when the man passed that object to Dunn.

  The last time she’d associated an action with such a vivid impression was over two years ago. It wasn’t often her gift manifested this way. Usually, she got a twinge of vertigo, and when she closed her eyes to ward it off, the visions would come. Not complete visions, like a movie, but flashing images followed by knowledge of some future event. She’d never been able to find a pattern to the events and had never been able to control them. They simply happened, whenever and wherever. None had occurred during her time in Washington D.C. while working at Northstar Security—a detail she found disquieting. A vision would have been most helpful on her last assignment.

  Jack and Dunn walked back to the picnic table. “What did you need to tell me?” Jack asked.

  Dunn looked distracted for a moment, then his face cleared. “Oh. Uh, Grumpy Joe rode in a few minutes ago. He told me to let you know he was here.”

  “Has the old bastard gotten too important to search me out himself?”

  Dunn shrugged. “I’m not going there. If you two want to get into a pissing match, don’t
put me in the middle of it.”

  Jack laughed and smacked Dunn on the shoulder. “I’ll find him.” He nodded at Caitlin. “Pipsqueak, why don’t you finish setting up the tent? You’re the only one who’s gonna sleep in it.”

  Dunn chuckled when he saw Caitlin open her mouth to protest. “Never hurts to make ’em pull their weight.” He flashed a knowing smile as he strode off in the direction the California hang-around had gone.

  Caitlin waited until Dunn was out of earshot to voice her objection. “I thought we were sharing the tent. There’s plenty of room.”

  “Are you trying to get out of a little work?” Jack smirked.

  She finished separating her packs and zipped the smaller one closed. “No. I only thought we were going to share—”

  “No one’s sleeping in that tent but you. I promised your dad I’d keep you out of harm’s way. And there’s no way Mac would have it any different.”

  “Mac? What makes you think he—” Caitlin stopped before she gave away a secret only she and Mac knew. “Why would either one of them care where I slept?”

  “Doesn’t matter. I’m making the choice, not them.” The finality in Jack’s tone put an end to the discussion. He nodded to the tent. “Now get to work.”

  “Yes, sir.” Caitlin saluted, but Jack was already striding away from their campsite.

  It took her twenty minutes to set up the tent, unroll her sleeping bag and put her packs inside. By the time she’d finished, the sun was combing the treetops. Soon it would dip below the mountain peaks, bringing to the campsite an early dusk and cooler temperatures.

  Taking a deep breath of clean, pine-scented air, Caitlin glanced around the expansive area they’d chosen for the rally. The campsites had nearly filled, and people milled around from site to site, visiting and catching up with old friends. Several campfires already burned in protected fire pits, and smoke curled gently toward the sky. It appeared the rally was in full swing and she was the odd man out. Or woman. She bit her bottom lip, uncertain what to do next.

  The smell of barbeque called to her, making her stomach rumble. Jack hadn’t returned, and she didn’t know what the plans were for dinner. However, no one seemed to be eating just yet, so she figured she had time for a short hike. After all, she’d come up here to get away and do some self-reflection. There was no time like the present.

  Ducking inside the tent, she grabbed her daypack. Setting it on the picnic table, she tucked her hand inside and checked the holstered Glock. Then she made sure the clip was full before sliding it inside—glad she’d taken the time to get an Oregon concealed-carry permit before she joined Northstar. She’d gotten used to having her gun whenever she went out.

  Next, she pulled out a power bar. Someone had placed a case of bottled water next to their picnic table while she’d set up the tent. She grabbed a couple of bottles and shoved them in her pack before swinging it over her shoulders.

  Unwrapping the power bar, she munched on it and went in search of Jack to let him know she was taking a quick hike. She was familiar with this particular canyon, but she didn’t want him to worry about her absence in case he came looking for her.

  As she circled the campground perimeter, she guessed there were already a hundred bikes lined up on the open field that had become a makeshift parking lot. A few trucks with camper-trailers also filled some spaces, but it looked as though most of the bikers planned to rough it like her and Jack. Saddlebags and backpacks might not carry many supplies, but that was all part of the fun.

  Caitlin spotted Jack sitting at a picnic table and waved to catch his attention. When he saw her, he started to rise, but she shook her head and pointed to the trail leading toward a creek that ran alongside the campground. Jack made a show of looking at the sky and then his watch. Caitlin grinned and raised a finger high enough for him to see, indicating that she’d only be gone an hour. He returned her smile and pulled out his cell phone. Caitlin lifted her phone off her belt and waved it at him. With a nod, Uncle Jack held up a single finger. She gave a pretend salute and turned toward the trail, smiling.

  One hour, she thought. Just enough time to bleed off some pent-up energy and work up a good appetite. With any luck, she’d be exhausted enough to fall asleep without dreaming of Mac all night long, or worse, rerunning the Atlanta assignment over and over and over in her mind.

  Chapter Six

  Caitlin had her pick of several trails that led from the campground. The best-worn trail wound toward Madeline Creek and was popular with many campers. The creek usually ran full during the spring and summer from mountain runoff, but this late in the year, although still swift, the water level was much lower.

  These woods had been a favorite stomping ground when she was in her teens. Back then, she knew most of the trails like the back of her hand. She wondered how much the trails and forest had changed since the last time she’d been here.

  After seeing the new homes and businesses yesterday, she realized the growth in town was likely due to the influx of people and jobs at the new bio-lab. Even the campgrounds had upgraded facilities. The latrines sat on concrete slabs instead of dirt like they had a few years ago. She just hoped her favorite hiking trail hadn’t been spoiled with so many changes.

  She ignored the well-worn path that led down to the creek and headed north, above the campgrounds. The trails on this side of Madeline Creek were relatively unused because campers tended to gravitate toward the water. Looking for solitude, Caitlin was not in the mood to share her hike.

  If she remembered right, the trail she’d selected paralleled the base of a mountain for a few hundred yards, then veered to the left where she could cross a small stream that fed into Madeline Creek. On the other side of the stream, another trail cut into the mountainside, weaving back and forth, ascending to a small hunter’s cabin.

  With the sun sinking behind the trees, the air had cooled to a pleasant hiking temperature. Birds and squirrels chattered in the brush, searching for the last evening meal. The bitter scent of pine resin joined with musky undertones of dead leaves, triggering vivid memories of hikes she’d squeezed in during weekends at the beginning of each school year.

  Mac had been the first person to show her this place. He’d taught her how to identify edible plants and mushrooms. At the time, she’d been more interested in the wildlife—thinking, as most young girls do, that the cute furry creatures would make great pets. Even then, Caitlin recognized Mac’s natural talent and skill for the outdoors. Little wonder he’d chosen a career as a forest ranger.

  Had things been different between them, she might have followed him into that field. Instead, it appeared the path she’d chosen put her on the fast track to self-destruction. She hadn’t intended for it to be that way but couldn’t hide from the truth. She knew exactly what her actions looked like to both Mac and her father.

  As she neared the stream, the forest sounds gave way to the rush of water over rocks. Even though the waterline was low this time of year, she did not intend to get wet. There used to be deadfall near the stream banks. The forest service had created a makeshift bridge of long timber that stretched across a narrow bend. If it was still there, that’s where she’d cross the water.

  Caitlin negotiated willow bushes to reach the crossing. As she’d hoped, a large log stretched across the stream, possibly the same one that had been in this spot for years. It looked like a natural bridge, and although there wasn’t a guardrail, someone had taken an ax and flattened the top. The fallen tree made crossing the small stream less of a challenge than trying to hop from rock to rock.

  Hefting herself up, she straddled the log and looked down into a pool just to the side of the log. The sunlight no longer glared off the water’s surface and she easily spotted small brown trout swimming in the shadows.

  Rising to her feet, she deftly traversed the log and hopped to the dry river rock on the other side. With daylight waning, she didn’t have much time to reach the cabin before she’d have to turn back. She had no
doubt, if she failed to return within her allotted hour Jack would have a posse of bikers searching for her.

  Too many people wanted to tell her what was good for her. Couldn’t they see she was a grown woman, with a mind of her own? A will of her own? She didn’t need coddling. She needed acceptance for who she was. Not who her father or O’Neal or even Mac wanted her to be. Especially Mac. She wasn’t his sister. When would he get that through his head?

  Never, Caitlin. So, let the matter drop.

  The wind picked up and tugged at her ball cap. She took it off and stuffed in the top of her backpack. The last remaining sunlight filtered brokenly through the overhead branches, warming the top of her head, reminding her of more pleasant times.

  Caitlin always felt closer to Mac when she was in the mountains. As kids, if she wasn’t tagging along on adventures with Mac and his friends, the two of them would explore the hillsides above the town. He’d been her best friend and she had shared everything with him. Even her secret. The one that, if she’d kept it to herself, wouldn’t have destroyed their friendship.

  Now that she was home again, she knew intimacy with Mac was out of the question. The risk of facing rejection a second time would be worse than never seeing him again. Hiding her feelings for him had become a habit. One she didn’t plan to break.

  Caitlin scrambled up a steep slope carved out by spring runoff and picked up the mountain trail. After about a hundred feet, the sound of running water gave way to the rush of a breeze through pine boughs. She rounded a bend in the trail just as a shower of small rocks cascaded down the mountainside beside her. Glancing up, she spotted a splash of color between the trees on the hillside trail above her.

  She was about to call out to the hiker to be more careful when she caught full view of a lime-green color. The same color shirt worn by the man who’d been talking to Dunn. Something about that man bugged her. She couldn’t yet put her finger on it, but her gift, combined with training from Northstar, taught her to pay attention to those little signals. Something she should’ve remembered during the Atlanta mission.