July 7, about a week after the shooting of Kelly Kramer…
Allie Summer was headed for the mountains to the northwest of River Bend. She didn’t know exactly where, but if she didn’t know, then neither did anybody else. And that suited her just fine.
She had returned to Ranger HQ from a successful mission to Carver Junction. Except she had lost $200 and hadn’t killed Terrell Tolliver. But the man she had been sent to get, Strip Diggs, was in jail in Port Station and awaiting trial.
“Nice job, Allie,” Captain W. T. McConnell said. He wasn’t terribly happy about the $200, but it was one of the residuals of the business. “Diggs’ neck will be inside a rope before too long.”
“Good,” Allie replied. That case was now behind her. “Do you have anything else for me?”
“Well, the only thing at the moment…” McConnell read from a piece of paper at his desk. “I need somebody to go over to Eureka and get Bonner Carry and bring him back…”
Allie turned and walked towards the door. “I’m going on vacation. I’ll be back…whenever.”
“Two weeks, Allie. That’s the vacation limit,” she heard McConnell call after her. She just laughed. “I’ll be back in a month,” she had told him. “Maybe.” He’d gripe about her being gone so long and she’d pay him no mind. She was his best, he knew it—she did, too—and he knew she needed the time off. He just…didn’t want her to be gone too long because…she was his best. But he also knew she’d keep her word. Allie would get bored and she loved her job too much. The Captain smiled. She may be back before two weeks are over… Then he frowned. Maybe I should have let her go after the Tollivers… Allie had told him about her encounter with Terrell, of course, and how they intended to kill her.
“Let me get them first. Please?” she said.
“We can’t do it, Allie. We just can’t do it. Not until they break a law in this territory.”
“Threatening a law officer isn’t a crime?”
“But Terrell didn’t even do that here. You were in Wyoming, remember?”
Allie was disgusted, and since McConnell didn’t have anything but the transport assignment noted above, she disappeared into the mountains. They were lovely that time of the year. Flowers blooming, trees full of greenery, streams bursting with trout and other fish, air as clear and as fresh as only mountain air can be, birds and squirrels and other organic life forms making the whole scene one which only nature can produce. Allie wondered why she hadn’t done it sooner. And more often. Yeah, McConnell…I’ll be back…whenever…
“Whenever” ended up being a little longer than she anticipated. In fact, the word “never” makes up the last five letters in “whenever”…
Five weeks later, August 15, about two weeks after the shooting of Rob Conners…
The Rocky Mountains are huge, vast, and mostly empty, which, again, it was what Allie Summer wanted. But they weren’t totally devoid of human life. One morning Allie was still in the camp she had made the previous night. It was in a lovely setting, beside a stream that flowed down a mountain. She could see the stream all the way until it disappeared in a 35-foot waterfall about three miles away. Being the nicest place to camp that she had found, Allie decided to spend a day or two there. The fact that the stream was brimming with trout didn’t hurt, either. She’d been gone from work for five weeks and was about ready to head home. But not yet.
About mid-morning, she was sitting propped against a tree, a fishing pole in her hand, and pitching peanuts to a contingent of squirrels who were keeping her entertained with their bouncing, chattering, and general playfulness. But she was doing one more thing—keeping her eyes on a man coming down the stream towards her. He was still a good mile away, but Allie was watching. She wasn’t terribly concerned, though. The man was walking a mule and appeared to be older than the mountains. A harmless, humanity-hating prospector, no doubt, who came down out of the mountains maybe once in a generation. Harmless, maybe. But Allie Summer didn’t trust anybody.
He had obviously seen her, too, and was heading directly for her camp. He would have had to traverse some pretty rugged terrain in order to avoid Allie, and he didn’t seem to be of a mind to do that. He might have been a little lonely, too. Even hermit prospectors like to talk to somebody occasionally.
He wasn’t in any hurry and arrived at Allie’s location about an hour later. She hadn’t moved, and had pulled in several nice trout.
“Howdy,” the fellow hollered when he got about 20 yards from where Allie was sitting.
“Hello,” Allie responded. “Come on in.”
She examined him a moment and saw a grizzled old man in dirty overalls that might have been blue at one time and cavalry hat that looked like it had been chewed on by field mice. Well, it probably has been… He was limping a little, but it didn’t appear to be from a recent injury; that was probably his normal gait. It seemed to the lady Ranger than the old man hadn’t shaved in two weeks, had a haircut in six months, and probably hadn’t seen a bar of soap…in a generation. But she was upwind so that didn’t bother her. His mule was as ugly as he was, and carrying an assortment of picks, shovels, pans, blankets, a rifle, and canvas sacks full of who-knew-what.
He looked at her and then did a double take. “You’re a woman,” he said, with surprised registered on his face.
“Did that mule tell you that?”
The old man chortled a bit. “Well, I admit, it’s been a long time since I seen one, but the best I can recollect, you fit the description.”
Allie chuckled. “When was the last time you saw one?” Then, she pointed at her now-dead fire. There was a coffee pot on it. “There’s still some coffee in that pot,” she said, “but you’ll have to build the fire and heat it if you want some. I’m comfortable and don’t want to get up.” Just then, she had a bite on her fishing line and was momentarily distracted.
“Don’t mind if I do,” the man replied. “Only coffee I’ve had in the last five years has been from mesquite beans.” He dropped the mule’s reins, which were nothing more than a worn rope, and headed for the fire.
Allie was tussled with a trout. “Mesquite? I didn’t figure there would be any mesquite trees in these mountains.”
“There ain’t, but I don’t know what them trees are up there, so I just call ‘em mesquite.”
Allie laughed softly and hauled in a two-pound trout. She had half a dozen nice-sized fish now and figured that was enough to feed herself and the old man. “You hungry?” she asked him.
He was getting a fire going and glanced up at her. “Don’t mind if I do, if you don’t mind, neither. Good lookin’ bunch a trout you got there.”
“Tasty, too,” Allie replied. “I’ve been eating them for a few days now.”
The old man eyed her as he was putting a few more sticks on the fire. “How long you been up here? By the way, my name is Elijah Prudence. Lijah for short, though it ain’t short by much.”
“Allie Summer,” the Ranger replied as she started expertly cleaning the fish, cutting the head off, gutting them, scraping some of the skin off. “I’ve been up here a few weeks now. Quiet and peaceful.”
“Yeah, it is. You’re the first human I seen in ‘bout three-four months. You’re part Injun, aint’che.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Half-Cheyenne.”
“Which half?”
Allie laughed. “All but my eyes.”
“Yeah, I noticed your eyes right off. Don’t look at this here fire or you’ll freeze it.”
Allie had heard the “eyes would freeze hell” or something like that so often she didn’t pay any attention to it any more. “Is that coffee hot yet?” she asked.
“Not yet,” Lijah said. “Let me help you clean them fish. I can cook ‘em, too, if ye want me to.” He pulled out a knife that looked as old as him, but the blade appeared razor sharp.
Allie let him help her clean the fish, but she did the cooking herself. She had some corn meal, red pepper and salt, set up a makeshift roasting spit, and boiled a couple of potatoes to boot. She’d found a few natural herbs in the forest and added them to the mix. Before it was done, Lijah was licking his lips.
“Oooo-eeee, woman, that not only smells good, it looks dee-licious. How long you plannin’ on stayin’ up here. You can do all my cookin’ fer me if you want to.”
Allie smiled, amused. “You haven’t tasted it yet. The last man that ate my cooking ended up with the runs for two weeks.” Lijah laughed.
They talked while they feasted. “Been prospectin’ up here for longer than I can tell ye,” Lijah told her. “I come down maybe onct ever two years or so. Go into town, look around, buy me somethin’, usually ammo fer my Henry, then come on back up. Civilization ain’ t for me.”
“You don’t get lonely?” Allie asked him, almost envious.
“Nah. Me and Emily—that’s my mule—we get along ok. Oh, I had me a Blackfeet squaw when I was younger, but she was more trouble than she was worth. Couldn’t cook near as good you,” he said, with a near toothless grin. “Grizzly got her. Almost got me, too. Broke my leg, that’s why I limp a bit. He didn’t taste no good, neither. Too old and stringy.”
“You got him, huh.”
“Yeah. Took ever’ blamed bullet in my rifle, too. He was the toughest I ever seen. Anyway, I’m headin’ down to River Bend now. Almost outta shells and if’n I got enough gold left over, I’ll get me some decent coffee. Maybe even a new shirt or pair of shoes. I don’t know yet. I do like lookin’ around in town some, but all them people give me the willies.” He shook visibly, and Allie smiled.
“Yeah, I know what you mean. You find a lot of gold up here?”
“Not much, but then I don’t do just a whole lot o’ lookin’, neither. I got maybe $50 of gold dust in them sacks over there. Maybe not. That’s two years’ worth. Or however long it’s been since I come down.” He thought a moment. “Yeah. Two summers ago. Lot hotter that year than this.”
Allie had noticed that there was a bit of a chill in the air, especially at night. But it didn’t bother her. “What’s your story?” Lijah asked her.
Allie shrugged. “Not much to tell. I work for the territorial Rangers and I’m on vacation. You’re right, it’s nice to get away from people for awhile.”
“Rangers, huh,” Lijah replied. “Secretary?”
“Something like that,” Allie said. She would have been utterly shocked if this old coot had heard of her.
“Well, if’n they got you cookin’ fer ‘em, then that’s the smartest thing they done in a long time. You ain’t married?”
“Nope.”
“Hmm. Pretty thing like you oughta have a husband.”
“Maybe some day.” It wasn’t a subject Allie was especially interested in talking about.
It was barely mid-afternoon, but when Lijah was through eating, he stood up, dusted the seat of his britches, and said, “Well, I shore do ‘preciate your hospitality, ma’am, but I’m gonna head down the hill. Got lots of daylight yet to travel by.” He looked at Allie with a little concern in his face. “You sure you’re gonna be all right up here by yourself? There’s some awfully ornery critters that roam these here woods. Day and night.”
For an answer, Allie slipped her stiletto—the knife up her right wrist—into her hand, whirled, and buried it in a pine knot about 50 feet away.
Lijah did a double-take, then looked back at Allie. “Yeah, I reckon you’ll do ok. Where’d you get that knife?”
Allie smiled, but didn’t answer. “If you see me on your way back up, you’re welcome to stop by again.”
“Thanks. I’ll do that. But I’ll holler real loud afore I get near your camp, lest you decide I’m some varmint that needs a knife between the eyes.”
“Oh, if I think that, you’ll be dead long before you get within knife-throwing distance.”
Lijah Prudence looked at Allie queerly, then shook his head, muttered something under his breath, and said to his mule, “C’mon, Emily. Let’s get gone before that Injun wants my scalp.” Allie laughed and waved as Lijah and his mule sauntered on down the mountain. The lady Ranger then turned to her leftovers. Hmm…I wonder if the squirrels would like the rest of that fish…
“Emily, these dad-blasted mountains is getting more crowded than Noo York City,” Lijah Prudence said to his mule a couple of days later. Less than a mile to the east he saw another camp. His eyes were still good enough to detect at least five men, maybe even six. “Hmm. Reckon we ought to avoid that’n, Emily? If’n they take my gold, I won’t have nothin’ to shop with in town.” But right then, the wind blew just right and Lijah got a brief whiff of bacon and coffee and his taste glands started salivating. “I cain’t pass that up, girl. That’d be worth 50 dollars in gold, if’n they’ll share.”
So off to the new camp Lijah Prudence limped…
Two days later, August 17…
Allie Summer was limping, too, but for a completely different reason and because of a different part of her body. As much as she was enjoying the camp she had made beside the stream, where Lijah had found her, she decided to go deeper and higher into the mountains—though in the general direction of the Rangers HQ in Port Station--one last fishing jaunt before going back to work. It was rugged country, and Allie had never been there before, but because of her Indian background, she was familiar with such terrain and moved carefully. “Always respect the land,” her father, Winter Wolf, had told her. “It has been here much longer than you. It will be here long after you are gone. It owes you nothing. But it will provide for you if you abide by its laws.” And that land was the home of many other living creatures who subsisted off its resources. Allie knew that and respected their wants and needs as well. The Ranger loved nature, loved the land, loved the animals, and revered what God had created. That had been deeply instilled in her by her father; she had never lost it and she never would.
But occasionally two worlds clash.
She had an excellent horse, a feisty, but well-trained Appaloosa named, appropriately enough, Ranger. Allie had searched far and wide for such a steed as this, and when she finally found him, she made McConnell buy him for her.
“You want us to have the best, don’t you?” she had argued to him. “How do you expect us to do our job right if you don’t give us the kind of equipment we need? And nothing is more important than a good horse.”
McConnell wasn’t inclined to disagree with her. He knew exactly how vital a horse was to his people, and though the horse Allie named Ranger was a little pricier than he preferred, he acquiesced. He generally gave Allie what she wanted and she generally rewarded him with the best work of any Ranger in his force.
Ranger was five years old now. Allie took supreme care of him. And he became, to Allie Summer, what Ol’ Paint was to Rob Conners—an absolutely trusted friend who could be counted on at any time and in any situation.
But he was a horse. And there were bigger beasts in the mountains than him.
It wasn’t really his fault. The meeting caught Allie unawares, too. It was a chilly, blustery late afternoon, and clouds were building in anticipation of what would surely be a strong rainstorm. Allie was slowly making her way out of the mountains on her way back home. She and Ranger had just descended a rather steep gulch and rounded a huge boulder when they came face to face with a black bear. The bear was actually as startled as human and horse were, but it rose up on two legs and growled ferociously. Ranger, surprised and momentarily frightened by an animal it would naturally be afraid of, whinnied and reared up on its back legs. And Allie wasn’t prepared—she was looking off to her right at a cave on a crest which she thought might make a good shelter from the approaching tempest. She went flying and landed hard on the rocky ground, on her right side, especially her ribs. It winded her, and it took her several moments, through gritted teeth, to get her breath back. When she could finally breathe more easily, she realized that her upper right side was causing her some severe pain.
The bear was gone. As noted, it was startled by the encounter and, after its momentary show of bear-hood, took off in the other direction. Ranger had fled in the opposite direction, but upon recognizing there was no danger, sheepishly made his way back to his master. Allie was still on the ground, breathing hard, eyes closed, a grimace on her face, waiting for the pain in her side to lessen. She feared broken ribs, and lying on her back, she cautiously felt around to see if she could detect anything seriously amiss. She winced at the pain, but there was nothing noticeably broken. But the pain was still acute enough that, when she tried to get on her feet, she saw lights and cried out in agony. Ranger was nuzzling her, wanting to help, but there wasn’t anything he could do. Allie managed to get to her hands and knees, but it took her two full minutes to finally get to her feet, and she only did that by holding on to her horse.
After another minute or so, the pain had subsided enough to where Allie felt she could walk; there was no way she could mount Ranger. The wind was picking up, and the low, gray rain clouds were moving in rapidly. Allie heard thunder and she knew she needed to find a sanctuary. She looked around and saw the cave she had spotted earlier. In was in a clearing about 150 yards away and she’d have to walk up a slight swale to get to there. Holding her side with one hand and Ranger’s reins with the other, she started towards the cave.
It wasn’t easy. The ground up to the clearing was uneven and rock-strewn and each step sent a pain up her side. Breathing wasn’t easy, either. Ranger took the lead and helped drag Allie up the incline. The cave was about 50 yards away, flush against a small, rocky sloping hill, which petered away within 100 yards on both sides. The clearing was bordered by woods, but Allie thought she saw a stream through the foliage to the right. She wasn’t of a mind to check at the moment; she had enough water in her canteen to last her the night.
She limped inside the cave just as the first drops of rain began to fall. The opening to the cavern was about 10 by 10 and it widened out a little as she progressed inside. She led Ranger about 50 feet into the cave and then she stopped, exhaled audibly, and leaned against his saddle for a few moments, recovering from the misery of the past several minutes. Slowly, and not easily, she managed to uncinch Ranger’s saddle; she simply let it fall to the ground. The blanket followed. She slung her canteen over her shoulder, took her rifle, blanket, and saddlebags, and hobbled closer to the entrance of the cave, perhaps 25 feet from the opening. It was pouring now, and cold. Some thoughtful soul had left some firewood against the wall and Allie struggled to build a fire. Every time she tried to lift her right arm now the pain was excruciating, so she did as much as possible left-handed. She was competent with her left hand—she could shoot almost as accurately left-handed as right-handed—and, now shivering, she started the fire. There wasn’t a lot of wood, but enough to get a small blaze going, and once the rain squall stopped, she felt she could get some more wood. If I can find anything dry enough, she mused…
Then, with a long, audible sigh, Allie sat back against the cavern wall, pulled her blanket over her, laid her head back and closed her eyes. Her side was throbbing mercilessly. Once again, she gingerly felt of her ribs; there didn’t appear to be any swelling, but she winced when she pressed a couple of the bones firmly. Maybe just bruised…that was her hope.
The warm fire and sound of the rain made her drowsy…and she drifted off to a light and fitful sleep…
When Allie woke up, the rain had stopped, but she could hear a steady drip from the walls outside. It was also cold; her fire had nearly gone out, and she only had a little bit of firewood left. As much as she didn’t want to, she was going to have to go outside and see if she could find some.
She groaned and gritted her teeth as she tried to move; she was extremely sore—all over—but especially her right side, of course. And she had stiffened up while she was asleep. Favoring her right side as much as possible, she managed to struggle to her feet. Ranger was a few feet away, watching her. She smiled a painful smile at him.
“I didn’t remove your bridle, did I, boy,” she said to him, and reached over and did so. She also picked up her canteen, poured some water in her hat, and let him drink. She had a little bit of feed in a sack for him, but not much. She had planned on him mostly eating grass and other foliage. But he wouldn’t find any in the cave, of course. Allie let him have the feed, and decided she would worry about feeding him more later on.
Stiffly and carefully, she walked to the entrance of the cave. It was nearly dark outside, but Allie could see well enough to look around. There was plenty of lumber, but most of it was obviously wet. She tottered along hillside, leaning a hand against whatever she could find for support, and within 50 yards of the cave, found a slight overhang with some old wood lying under it. It was mostly dry and she picked up what she could and made her way back to the cave. She needed more so she made her painful way back to the overhang and grabbed another armful. Moving her right arm was agonizing, so again, she favored her left. She made two more trips to the overhang; on the last one, she dragged a rather substantial log with her. It had a huge knot and would burn for several hours if she could get it lit. Once she arrived back at the cave, she sat down against the wall again, resting, waiting for the throbbing in her side to diminish. When she felt able, she crawled slowly over to her now almost dead fire, and tried to revive it.
Ranger whinnied, snorted, and backed further into the cave.
Allie first looked at him, and then outside the cave. What she saw made her blood run cold.
A pack of eight wolves were sitting, V-shaped, staring at her, the leader about 15 yards from the cave entrance.
