Whispering Spirits (13 page)

“You’re starting to sound like my mother.
Let’s get moving. We’ve lost way too much time already. Spring up
that tree, would you? Scour the landscape and see if you spot
anyone trailing us.”

Summer sensed his anxiety. If he’d felt that
way before, he’d hidden it well. His injury now allowed it to
surface. Using several rocks, she pulled herself up into a
cottonwood, grateful for the jeans. She slowed her breathing, and
searched the landscape close and far. Releasing a sigh of relief,
she grabbed the branch above…and froze. There, several hills down,
the distinct movement of a man heading their way.

“He’s about two hours behind us, Running
Crane. He knew this trap would set us back. I just don’t know why
he didn’t head south to Babb. Didn’t you say that was the logical
place to go? He warned us he was a Rambo. I think it’s time to set
a few traps of our own.”

“Where did that come from? You don’t seem the
hunting type!”

“I’m not, but I’m also not going to let
anyone overpower me. I’m tired of being taken advantage of. I don’t
know why we’re being chased-down, but I’m ready to fight back.”
Summer never felt more determined to take charge of her life.

“I can think of a few—”

“Let’s reset this trap.”

“What? He knows it’s here…not much of a
surprise—”

“Why let him know it worked and one of us got
hurt?” Summer scurried down the tree and into the indenture to
adjust the remaining wood spears toward the left outside
perimeter.”

“Toss two of those spears up this way. We’ll
take them with us.”

She didn’t question why. She tossed them up,
then hurriedly placed a thin layer of brush and sticks across the
rough opening, this time pulling the grass over the rocky edge.
With great care she wedged rocks in tall stacks. In the dark it
would look like the firm edge. She pulled grass up over the ledge
on the far right, making the edge look less wide and not the path
to take.

“It might work…since by the time he gets here
it’ll be almost dark. Over the next ridge I’ll rig a bow trap.”

She could tell it took Running Crane
considerable effort to use the stick crutch. He moved slow and
careful, and she followed, doing her best to erase any signs of
their having passed that way. They’d traveled a good hour and the
air became thinner with each step.

“Should we take a quick break? I’ll scout
behind us from that tree there,” she pointed to a tall, thin
Ponderosa Pine.

“You be careful. You get injured and we’ll
have to make a stand. I’d rather get to StoneHouse.”

“I agree. StoneHouse definitely has more
appeal. How’s the leg feeling?” She didn’t doubt it hurt like hell.
She realized he hadn’t answered. He sat on a rock and scouted the
area. The thin air made climbing difficult too, but finally she
reached a branch that allowed her great view of the area below
them. She studied the grassy areas, the tree lines, and even rocky
cliffs. She couldn’t spot a single sign of movement. She’d have
felt better had she spotted the man.

“Anything?” he asked.

“No, and that worries me. What you doing?”
she asked.

We’re on an animal trail and this narrowing
will be a great place to set a bow trap. It’s dangerous and I hope
we don’t kill an animal with it first. I’ve anchored a primitive
bow to the ground with pegs.”

“Wow, you made a bow that quick?”

“It’s just a stiff branch bent in a
half-moon. I notched a groove on each end to hold the string, which
I found from the outside flap on my pack. The arrow is notched at
the end and I whittled the other end to a point.”

“What do we do next? We’d better hurry.”
Summer dropped to the ground and moved beside Running Crane.

“Now comes the tricky part. We’ll adjust the
aiming point as we anchor the bow. We need to lash a toggle stick
to the trigger stick. Grab a rock and pound those two sticks
upright into the ground. They’ll hold the trigger stick in place at
a point where the toggle stick holds the pulled bow string.”

“I’m confused now, but I’ll do it.” She
pounded the sticks into the dry ground. It took more effort than
she expected.

“Once we get it in place, you’ll see how it’s
going to work. I’m going to put a catch stick between the toggle
stick and the stakes you placed there. Tie this shoestring to the
catch stick around those stakes.”

Summer did as he instructed. “Oh, I see…now
I’ll stretch it across the game trail down in the grass but high
enough for him to trip over it. I’ll tie it off on the other end.
If he pulls on the string…the bow will fire, hopefully hitting
him.”

“That’s the plan. I’ll hold the trigger on
this end while you cover the string with some loose grass where it
shows. I’m counting on it being dark or he’ll spot this in a
minute. I’m starting to believe the guy has military training.
That’s not a good thing for us.”

“I was thinking the same thing. There, it’s
done. Let’s get out of here.” She slipped the backpack over her
shoulders and grabbed Running Crane’s bow. She walked behind him,
again working hard to eliminate any sign of their passing.

In silence they moved through the terrain;
using game trails when possible, forging through dense pine
carpeted forests and thick, wild huckleberry bushes.

“Running Crane we both need to rest. It’ll be
dark soon. We need to look for a safe place—”

“Ideally, we should travel at night and sleep
during the day.”

“You serious? You’ll be falling every other
step. It’d be different without your injury, but I think we’d both
be better with some sleep. I should take a look at that leg,
too.”

“No, leave the pressure bandage on. We’ll be
at StoneHouse late tomorrow afternoon and until then there’s
nothing more we can do for it. Hey, check it out,” he pointed to
the rocky ledge on their left. “That looks like an indenture in the
rocks. Hand me the bow.”

She did without giving it much thought.

“Go down over the ridge on the right and cut
several of those huckleberry bushes and we’ll cover the opening
with them.” He handed her his Leatherman with the saw blade locked
in place.

“Too bad it’s not fall and we could eat the
berries.” She hoped her tone sounded light and at ease. The thought
of having to hide raised the hairs on her arms. They were being
hunted. Why?

She didn’t question his directions and
immediately slipped over the edge and worked her way to the
backside of the huckleberry bushes. She envisioned them loaded with
purple, ripe berries and savoring the sweet-tart flavor. She
quickly shook the thought away. She sawed close to the ground,
struggling to keep the blade pressed into the wood without pinching
her fingers. She grabbed the shrubs and headed up the incline
Running Crane had nearly conquered. She couldn’t help noticing he
relied more and more on the crutch.

“You be extra careful at the edge.” She
hustled up the rocky ledge as quickly as she could. The evening
light quickly turned to gray and by the time she reached the top
ledge, it nearly disappeared.

She dropped the pack on the ground. They had
quite the advantage and Summer scanned the area from right to left,
satisfied no one moved below.

“This will be perfect for our needs,” Running
Crane said. “It’s about four feet deep and there’s only one access
in. We can’t make a fire but these granola bars should help.
Berries sure would have tasted good.”

“The huckleberry actually got its name from a
simple mistake. Early American colonist misidentified it as the
European blueberry known as the hurtleberry.”

"The hurtleberry? You’ve got to be
kidding.”

“I’m serious. Everyone called it hurtleberry
until around 1670 when they mistakenly started calling them
huckleberries. In olden times they’d use the expression, ‘I'll be
your Huckleberry,’ which meant they were the right person for the
job. It even became the sign of affection toward a partner or
sidekick.”

“Well, aren’t you full of information? Is
that all you have?” he laughed.

“Later, people used the term huckleberry to
mean someone wasn’t important. Mark Twain did that with his
character Huckleberry Finn. His idea, as he told an interviewer in
1895, was to establish that he was a boy of lower extraction or
degree than Tom Sawyer.”

“I see college hasn’t been wasted on you. You
always remember facts like that?”

“Not really. I did a presentation in my
writing class on the importance of word history. Thought I’d try to
impress you.”

“It worked, I’m impressed.” He leaned a bush
against the wall edge. “We need to keep watch tonight. I have a
feeling he’s gaining ground on us.”

She hated admitting she’d had the same
feeling. “I wish I knew who and why he’s tracking us down. Don’t
get me wrong, I get the reason they’re after
Nah’ah
, but I’m
not convinced that’s why this guy’s after me. Those men could have
taken me the same time they took
Nah’ah
. I’m starting to
believe there’s something else going on here.”

“I’ve been thinking about that, too…and he
might not be after you…maybe he’s after me.”

Summer stopped adjusting the huckleberry
bushes and glanced over at Running Crane. “And why would that be?
I’m the one who had the questionable boyfriend. I’ll be honest
though, I can’t imagine Joshua going through this much
trouble—”

“In my line of work agents get all kinds of
threats. Some are bull and others…can be real. If we had radio or
phone communications, I might learn if anyone I’d sent to prison
has been released. We’re back to the question who knew we were
flying here…because whoever it was had the know how to sabotage my
chopper.”

“Is this something you might have forgotten
to share with me, Running Crane?”

“Uh…I didn’t want to worry you and
Nah’ah
.” He sat down on the rocky ledge and leaned his back
against the back wall, behind the huckleberry bushes.

She dropped beside him and took the granola
bar he offered. “It may be dark, but I can still see your
expression enough to know you slipped up and hadn’t planned on
sharing that bit of information with me. Why? Don’t you think I
should know what’s going on? It’s my life that’s on the line here.
Something happens to you…I have to know the facts. Don’t think
you’re protecting me by keeping me in the dark. What aren’t you
telling me?”

“The radio on the chopper was disabled and
the gas tank was punctured before we took off.”

“Meaning a tree branch didn’t damage it on
landing. Anything else you failed to mention?” She stared at him,
angry he’d failed to confide in her.

“Only—”

“Only what?”

“I’m…I’m sorry. I hoped it was a coincidence.
I’m worried about
Nah’ah
and now I’m worried about you. If
it’s because of me that you’re both in danger, I…well…if something
happens to either of you, I don’t know how I’d ever live with
it.”

“Nothing has happened so far…and if we keep
our heads and we don’t hide the truth from each other, maybe…just
maybe we’ll figure this out and get
Nah’ah
back safely.” She
took a small bite of the bar and savored the flavor.

She waited for him to respond. Finally, after
several minutes of silence she gave him a quick glance. His chin
rested against his chest. His steady breathing revealed exhaustion
won out. Summer switched out the Leatherman saw for the knife and
locked it in place. She gripped the handle and held it in her
lap.

* * *

The unmistakable crunch of gravel brought
Summer’s senses alive. The moon cast a dim light across the land.
Shadows hovered in every direction.

Again, distinctive sounds of footsteps
against rocks revealed his position. She spotted the dark image of
a man silhouetted in the vague light. He took off his wide-brimmed
hat and rubbed his brow with his sleeve. He scanned the ground with
a flashlight for signs. Had she been careful and clever enough to
have wiped away any trace of their existence?

Her heart pounded hard in her chest. She’d
considered reaching over and shaking Running Crane, but decided
even the slightest movement might reveal their hiding place.

The man studied the ground, then snapped the
light up and paused at the huckleberry bushes. He looked up at her
from where he squatted, on his haunches. She could scarcely
breathe. Did he know she watched? She could make out only the
vaguest outline of his face.

He stiffened his back and moved the light to
the right, above, and even below her position.

Tense, the damp, cold coming up from the
rocks permeated her flesh, making her bones ache. She shivered,
waiting for the man to move away.

He tilted his head back, indicating he
listened to the sounds of the night. He took several steps forward
before she noticed he limped excessively. No doubt pain gripped him
with each step. Had he fallen into his own revamped trap or had he
become victim of Running Crane’s bow trap?

He hobbled forward, moving with caution,
studying the signs on the ground as he moved down the trail. How
long would it take for him to realize he may have passed them?
Would he backtrack or lay in wait?

Summer glanced back at Running Crane but the
moonlight wasn’t bright enough to reveal him. She listened, hoping
to hear his breathing…silence answered. Was Running Crane dead? She
gasped, realizing a shiver of panic. She shook as fearful images
built in her mind.

Biting her lip, Summer felt the rocks with
her palm, reaching out…closer and closer to Running Crane. Every
fiber of her body warned her to stop. She had to know. She felt his
leg beneath her hand and shook him. He didn’t respond. She shook
him again and listened as he slid, landing with a thump.

Footsteps on the rocky trail below warned
Summer. Was there more than one man chasing her and Running Crane?
Could the tracker have realized the trail had gone cold ahead that
quickly…and now he’d returned? She straightened up and peered
through the huckleberry bushes…and froze.