Читать книгу Car Trouble: A Cassidy Callahan Novel - Kelly Rysten - Страница 10

Chapter 4

I wanted a trip to my camp before the next tracking call came. The following day I called Rusty at the station to check in. He knew I was familiar with the route, the wildlife, and that I had everything I needed for the trip.

“I just want a few days to track and stalk. I’ll be back in four days. Two hiking days and two camping days. That ought to be enough,” I’d told him.

I packed some backpacking food, threw in a new novel, a bottle of gas for my stove, and my hiking staple, trail mix. I packed a few scoops of dog food because Shadow was going along on this trip. Shadow happily jumped into the passenger seat, eager to be off. Most of the other items I needed were stored at the camp.

I drove up to Creekside Campground, passed through the camp and continued to the trailhead that started at the back of the campground. I parked, hung my Adventure Pass in the window, put on my funny looking hat and headed up the trail. I followed the trail beside a little creek that flowed down the canyon. Except for the heat the hike was pleasant. Usually heat will drive the animals into hiding but I saw an unusual number of squirrels and rabbits. Stellars jays flew from pine tree to pine tree. Ferns leaned out over the trail. It was good to be off alone again with good old dirt beneath my moccasins. The first two miles went quickly, Shadow heeling quietly by my side. He was used to this trail. It was our normal route and he had been missing these trips ever since I’d met Rusty. I felt more settled now, so the mountains pulled a little less harshly. Still, the city was beginning to get to me and the snake incident had left me a bit rattled. I wanted to relax.

I turned off the trail where two creeks came together. The next two miles would be a rough hike up a rugged canyon. I felt a need to focus on specific things during this hike. When I had to focus it helped to clear my cluttered thoughts, so I chose a route up the canyon that required a lot of rock climbing. Nothing major, just enough to make me focus and be careful.

Shadow knew where we were going and found his own way, but always managed to keep tabs on me. He was a Shetland Sheepdog and keeping track of me was a job he took seriously. I was his flock, his one lonely sheep.

One rock led to another and I made my way up the canyon one handhold, one foothold at a time. It was relaxing. The creek tumbled down the rocks beside me. It was mid afternoon when I reached a tall, lonely pine tree and a large flat rock beside the creek. I was home. My hideout.

I’d made the camp a few years before and came here frequently on hiking trips because it was away from the tourists. I loved the creek and the ruggedness of the canyon. There were caves to explore in the canyon walls and refreshing little pools in the creek. I could find deer in two small meadows, one at the top of the canyon and one on the way up. Then one day I discovered a spot where two trees had fallen and been caught between two other trees. I saw the layout as a perfect setup to make a shelter. The next time I returned with a huge tarp and draped it over the leaning trees, then cleared the floor area. I piled branches over the outside to hide it and protect it from the weather. It was like a hidden cave made from branches. The forest had grown up around it and now it looked like a very wild patch of forest. Only someone who was shown the way could find the entrance. There was no door. To gain entry I needed to lift a corner of the tarp that was usually hidden by weeks of fallen pine needles and other forest litter. The inside was warm, snug, and watertight.

I searched for the corner of the tarp, lifted it and then crawled in with Shadow following me into the dark hidey hole. I felt around for the lantern, bumping into his soft, furry side. I turned it on and looked around. Everything appeared to be in good shape. I pulled the sleeping bag from a dusty corner, removing it from a plastic trash bag. After rolling it out onto the hard-packed floor I laid down and stretched out. I relaxed, savoring the feeling of the earth against my back. Finally, quiet and nature again. I needed to stalk, track and climb to work out all the kinks the city threw my way. I didn’t want to worry about bills or shopping or murders. This was my time, my place where things worked right, where I was comfortable. I unpacked the extra food I’d brought, adding it to the ammo box of food I kept in the hideout. The new novel was added to my stash of reading material. Occasionally when I was stuck up here by rain or fog the books came in handy.

Leaving the hideout I checked the area for signs of wildlife and found tracks of chipmunks and squirrels. One track, heading up canyon, looked like a coyote but it could have been left by Shadow. I studied it more carefully. It wasn’t Shadow but it wasn’t a coyote either. The track had been left by a domestic dog but one much larger than my Sheltie. I tried to gauge how old the track was, hoping the dog was no longer in the area. I never worried about the wildlife; it was the non-wildlife that could be dangerous.

I lit my stove, then heated water for a meal. Good old backpacker food. It was tempting to live off the trail mix but I’d soon tire of that. Maybe I could snare my next dinner and have some real meat. Maybe tomorrow. I’d be out in the game trails tomorrow anyway and get a better feel for things then. Today it was arroz con pollo backpacker style. I tore open the pouch, added boiling water and folded the top down to let the food cook. At least this was easy. No fuss, no mess, quick clean up; my kind of meal.

After dinner I hiked down to a small clearing below my camp to check out the deer population. I explored the wall of the canyon, looking for interesting places like caves or nice boulders for rock climbing. I’d been to this canyon dozens of time but always saved areas for further exploring so it never got old. Shadow followed along. When he brought pinecones to me I would throw them in a game of fetch. This was his play time, too. At home we used an agility course, and that was Shadow’s job. He was a smart, working dog and needed to keep busy. Out here, his work changed to keeping track of me and investigating all the smells and animals.

As the sun dipped below the side of the canyon I headed back to the hideout. This was not a place for wandering around at night. It was rugged, so I kept close to camp after sunset. I slept when it was dark and got up with the sun in the morning.

The next day I awoke to scurrying noises on the roof of the hideout. Obviously a chipmunk or squirrel had taken up residence in the branches covering the tarp. I went outside to greet my new neighbor. I sat quietly on the flat rock, my eye on the hideout. Sure enough, out popped a chipmunk. He poked around in the bushes and then carried something into the branches and disappeared. Pretty quick he was back at it again. I went back inside, brought out my trail mix and hid some under a nearby bush for the chipmunk to find. When he had located that stash, I left out the open bag for him to discover. I was sensitizing him to this new food using different locations. After he made a few trips to the bag I took it and lay down at the base of the hideout. I put some trail mix in my hand and found a comfortable position that I could maintain for a long time, and then lay quietly, stilling my breathing. Be still, Cass, quiet. I relaxed and felt a shift in my attitude and I was settled in, ready for the long wait.

The chipmunk scurried around, then froze at the site of me. Still, I thought, stay still. The chipmunk stepped forward, froze, stepped forward. It wasn’t sure about this new addition to the forest bearing food. I must have moved a bit because the chipmunk hurried up a tree. I laid beneath the tree for over an hour letting the chipmunk get used to me. You can’t hurry nature. It moves on its own clock. I started getting hungry and realized I hadn’t eaten yet but remained in place willing the chipmunk to come down. I could see him spiraling down the tree, stopping to sniff every few feet, nose twitching, tail flicking. He landed by my head at the base of the tree. Still, stay very still. Don’t blink. The chipmunk inched towards my outstretched hand and placed his two front paws on the ball of my thumb. He quickly darted forward and snatched a piece of fruit then dashed up the tree. I lay there still as a stone as he spiraled back down and found another treasure in my hand. It was hard to stay still with a critter on my hand. I was enjoying the company so much I wanted to visit with him but I knew to do that meant I would lose the chance. I wished Rusty was here to try this. With his fast reflexes he’d probably flinch at the touch but it would still be fun to watch him try it.

Finally I had lain on the ground as long as I cared to. I put a stash of trail mix where it could be easily found and went on my way. I heated water and made oatmeal and hot chocolate, my normal camping breakfast. I didn’t really like oatmeal but it packed and cooked easily and it lasted until lunchtime so it’s what I ate.

For some odd reason I was developing an unsettling feeling. I began watching the woods around me with a critical eye, but couldn’t pinpoint the source. Just a feeling that I wasn’t alone up here. I changed my way of looking at things and started watching for odd colors or movements but continued my actions like normal. I called Shadow and we headed up the canyon, once again exploring the walls of the canyon for interesting places. When I found a rock that looked fun to climb I judged it by size. I wasn’t willing to take a tumble of more than eight or ten feet when I was by myself so I only took note of the longer climbs. Occasionally I would find a shorter climb that I could try myself. Shadow didn’t like me climbing rocks. He wanted to follow, but going straight up was not an option for him, so he watched me and whined and sometimes he would find a way to the top, only to watch me turn around and climb back down. I hoped he would eventually learn to wait at the bottom, but even after two years he still persisted in following me as closely as possible.

I climbed up a rock and looked at the country beyond, more boulder-strewn mountainside stretching up, up to the top of the peak. These boulders were not the eroded sandstone rocks so typical of the area. These boulders were just piled up haphazardly. How had that happened? I could understand the tilted sandstone of Vasquez Rocks. Wind and rain had eroded them. Earthquakes had tilted them. But these rocks looked totally foreign to their environment.

I was tempted to keep climbing but decided to save it for later. Even when I was alone I felt Rusty’s watchful eye on me and it kept me in check. Maybe it would even keep me out of trouble. I climbed back down into the canyon again and continued following the walls, climbing and exploring the nooks and crannies. Rock climbing was slow going, and before I knew it the day was waning and I hadn’t had lunch. Returning to camp, I rehydrated a pouch of lasagna flavored noodle stuff and washed it down with hot chocolate. The unsettling feeling persisted as I watched the canyon walls for signs of life. Walking around camp I searched for any footprints left by other people but only found my own. I circled the camp looking for sign but didn’t see anything definite. Maybe my mind was playing tricks on me.

Night fell and Shadow and I slept in the hideout, waking to the scurrying of the chipmunk in the branches overhead.

I had not intended to spend the entire previous day rock climbing, so I headed down to the clearing to see the deer in the early morning. I didn’t see any deer in the lower clearing so I headed up canyon to see if they were in the clearing above my camp. Although unusual for them to be in the upper clearing, they’d been there before and I was looking forward to stalking them.

When I reached the clearing the deer were very wary. I could sense tension in the air as though something had been after them recently, making them flighty. I had little chance for successful stalking under these conditions but I was determined to try. If I could get into the herd in their agitated state it would be quite an accomplishment. I started walking cautiously towards them, but noting my presence they began to dance around with pricked ears, watching me. I stood still, giving them a chance to accept my presence as nonthreatening. Taking a cautious step, I felt Shadow beside me and gave him the down/stay signal. He found a shaded spot and lay there waiting for my go-ahead signal. I stepped closer. Inching my way into the herd, I couldn’t help but get the feeling something was brewing. The deer expected trouble and I wondered what it could be. If it was predators then I didn’t need to worry because they would be after the deer. Although I hated to see one come down I knew it was just nature taking its course. I automatically felt for my pistol but remembered I’d left it home. I then felt for my knife. I brought a hunting knife; not for protection but in case I had to live off the land. A good knife was necessary for cutting things to make snares, and if I caught something, it was also needed to clean the animal. I had lived off the land before but lately I preferred watching the animals to eating them. It now took a day without food to convince me I better think about snaring something to eat. Thankfully I still had a few days of backpacker food at camp and wouldn’t go hungry tonight.

Suddenly Shadow broke from his down/stay and raced across the clearing scattering the deer, his focus on a dark brown blur in the brush. The only thing I could think of that was dark brown up here was an occasional elk or bear, however it wasn’t noisy enough for either animal. I heard Shadow’s deep growl and when I found him he stood glaring and snarling at a large junkyard dog. It was a motley mix of large dog breeds and it was skin and bones. My temper flared because I knew someone had abandoned it to survive in these hostile mountains.

“Shadow, heel!” I commanded. He didn’t budge. I approached the emaciated dog. I’d have caught and fed it and brought it back to town, but as soon as I stepped forward Shadow rushed it, nipping at its legs, sheepdog style. He thought he was protecting me but Shadow was a herder, not a fighter. The other dog attacked Shadow with a vengeance but only managed to grab a ruff full of fur. Shadow thrashed, paws scrambling around in the loose rocks and sand, trying to get his footing and run away. I stepped forward and this made Shadow even more frantic. The two closed in a huge snarling mess. I wasn’t going to let this dog kill Shadow. Shadow suddenly broke free and dashed behind me. The big dog lunged. I raised a hand in front of my face to block the dog’s charge and it latched onto my arm. I didn’t pull back. To pull back would mean losing a pound of flesh. I felt the teeth biting in and instinctively followed the dog down. I found a spot with my free hand where I thought I could try to pry at his mouth but the huge jaws wouldn’t budge. Shadow came racing back snapping at the dog from all sides. He was fast and this distracted the dog long enough that he loosened his grip. I pried again and was given just enough room to pull my arm out. I jumped back, pulling my hunting knife from its sheath. Shadow rushed the dog again trying to drive it away from me. The dog lunged again, this time latching onto my leg just above the ankle. I stabbed at it with the knife, causing the dog to pull back and rip my leg. I stabbed again feeling red-hot anger, not at the dog but at some inconsiderate person who had driven a good animal to be so dangerous. The simple act of turning a dog loose had now turned into a deadly battle. I hoped to be the winner. I had to. I thought about who would come looking for me up here. Rusty first. He knew where I was, but I wouldn’t do that to him. I was going to beat this dog. I was going to haul it back to town and find out if it was micro chipped and I was going to find the owner and… and what? First things first, Cass. Go for the jugular. This knife is sharp, you can beat this dog. Just do it! The next time it lunged I brought the knife down and sliced up as hard as I could. I felt the blade bite and drag and the dog stumbled back and dropped, looking at me with sad eyes. I looked back, just as sad for having beaten it. I couldn’t watch. I turned away as the dog died there on the mountainside.

I examined the damage to my leg. I was really in trouble this time. It was definitely a case for stitches. My arm had been bitten in a long arched line of puncture wounds, but my leg appeared to be worse. It was bleeding freely. I thought back to the first aid classes I had taken while in the Marines, but I didn’t have much to work with up there on the mountainside. Applying pressure to the wound, I waited for the bleeding to slow. A large flap of skin left the muscle exposed. I needed to bind it, stop the bleeding, and hike out with the dead dog. Looking at the large dog, I didn’t think I could do it. Even in its starved condition the dog weighed half as much as I did. I used the knife to cut the legs off my pants to shorts length, and then shredded the material into wide bandages. I pulled out my cell phone but there was no reception. I tried calling Paul at the ranger station anyway because all the rangers there knew me.

“Paul, this is Cassidy. I don’t know if you can hear me but I have a problem. Can you send someone up here? Directions: go up Creekside trail two miles and then head up the canyon where the two creeks come together. I need a first aid kit and some muscle.” I didn’t know if anybody heard my message, which meant I was still on my own. I pulled the flap of skin over the wound and then bound the area tightly with the strips from my pants legs. All this took hours to do. The fabric of my pants didn’t tear or cut easily. That’s what I got for buying sturdy camping clothes from Army Surplus. They had weave that went in multiple directions so they didn’t tear. By the time I finished wrapping the wounds I noticed the sun was dipping. I’d spent time hiking, stalking, fighting, bandaging and I’d somehow used up a whole day. I pushed myself to my feet trying to figure out what to do about the dog when pain shot up my leg. Oh great, this was going to be one painful hike out. I tried walking but it was too much. I searched the dog for a microchip. If the dog was dead it wouldn’t be hurt by my search and I still meant to contact the authorities about it. Hauling it out wasn’t an option in my present condition.

The more I moved, the more my leg hurt. I finally set my sights on just reaching the hideout again. There were other hungry critters out here and I didn’t want them smelling the blood on me. After dealing with the dog I wasn’t ready to face a bear or mountain lion. The hideout was the best place for me and if worst came to worst I would be stuck there for two nights. Okay, the hideout first, Cass, then tomorrow the trail.

“Shadow, heel,” I commanded putting him in working mode. I stood to hike down the mountain and my leg buckled. Shoot. Hiking was out. I looked around for a branch to make a crutch but none of them looked like they would work, and I didn’t have time to sit around whittling. I inched my way down the mountain any way I could without putting weight on the bad leg. Sometimes that meant crawling, sometimes hopping along. I put my weight on it occasionally but the pain quickly stopped me. Darkness fell and I was still a long, painful distance from the hideout. I got out my cell phone again and tried Rusty’s number. Reception or not, I had to try something.

“Hello Rusty? Can you hear me? Please say you can hear me. If you can, then please call Paul and see if he got my message. If he got it don’t do anything. He’s got it under control. If not I could really use some help up here. Don’t try to hike the canyon at night. I’ll try to get to the hideout tonight and then make the trail in the morning. I need a first aid kit. If you can get your hands on some painkillers I’d appreciate it. I can’t believe I’m asking a cop to bring me drugs.”

Shoot. I sure didn’t want to do that to him but I was beginning to doubt if I was walking out of here. I could deal with the pain once I was on the trail but getting to the trail was going to be hard. In the starlight I crawled along until I met a drop off. It was a rock I’d climbed up easily on the way up. Now it looked insurmountable. Going down was always harder than going up and it was night. On the bright side, rock climbing was more feel than sight. I just wondered if this was a rock that I could descend with only one good leg. Nope. The more I thought about it the more convinced I became that I couldn’t rock climb to get down. It would mean hanging by my fingers until my good foot found a hold. I searched the area for an easier way down but every place I looked had a long drop off. I was stuck for the night. In the morning maybe I’d be able to follow Shadow’s route down.

I curled up with my back against a large rock, my hunting knife in my hand. I tried to sleep but the binding hurt my leg and I worried about what I would be facing the next day. I wondered if anybody knew I was out here needing help. I couldn’t count on it. I had to keep going until I got to the Jeep. I’d do that first thing in the morning. Then I’d have to drive the Jeep. That would be painful too. Shit and double shit. I was deep in it this time.

Shadow found a place to curl up and slept where he could see me. I really wanted him to lie beside me because I could have used the warmth but Shadow never was very cuddly. I slept fitfully. I awoke in the night shivering but it wasn’t dangerously cold so I just tolerated it. When I could see well enough to make my way down the canyon I headed out again.

“Let’s go home,” I told Shadow hoping he’d go into automatic and lead me down the canyon. He showed me the way he got past the large rocks. I sat and scooted down a trough worn through the rocks by thousands of small flash floods. My leg screamed at me with every movement. I looked down the canyon for the pine tree that marked my camp. Yes, I can do this, I thought. Just head for the lone pine tree.

Thirst drove me to the creek but the detour cost me. The way down the canyon was rougher around the creek, so I lost precious time. I made my way back to easier terrain and forced myself to walk downhill. When the pain became too intense I hopped and then crawled until at last I stumbled into the clearing by the flat rock. I army crawled into the hideout and collapsed. Shadow pushed his way in with a concerned whine. I was hungry but I didn’t have the energy to cook. I grabbed the bag of trail mix, a bottle of water and drifted off to sleep. I awoke thinking I should go to the creek and take off the bandages and wash the wound but gave up on that idea. The creek, thirty feet outside my hideout, felt like a mile away. The trail to Creekside might as well have been on the moon. I drank the tepid, bottled water then drifted off again.

When I woke up I was determined to try and make it to the trail. It was becoming apparent that nobody had gotten any of my messages. While feeding Shadow I wondered how many meals he had missed. I had missed the same meals, but I had no appetite. I was feeling feverish and dull headed but decided to set out. Small goals, that’s what I needed. Just make it to that rock, I thought. And when I felt the rock beneath my hand I would pick a tree. Just make it to the tree, Cass. One goal at a time. I was reduced to crawling before I lost sight of my camp. The next big rock loomed ahead and I headed in that direction.