Caleb: Military Heroes (The One I Want Series Book 3) Read online

  “That girl was all fired up because they weren’t going to ask her to help.” Marge went to the map. “You should’ve seen her dress Bob down. She took the toughest quadrant and let those boys know who was boss.”

  He glanced at a map stretched across a table and recognized the area Caitlyn would search. They grew up in those mountains, exploring everything and anything together. They’d been inseparable since kindergarten.

  She learned to ride on the forest trails, first a mountain bike and then on an off-road motorcycle. He was right by her side. He always had been. They walked all the streams, climbed all the rocks, and discovered a handful of caves, some occupied by bears and others too shallow for the massive creatures but great for spending a night away from adult supervision.

  Memories of what they’d done in one of those caves brought a smile to his face. They shared the big firsts in life in those mountains. The most memorable things happened in that cave.

  “Does she still have Bear?”

  The tiny ball of fur was supposed to be theirs, but then he joined the Marines. He always wondered if she kept the Newfoundland, or if she got rid of the puppy after he left.

  “Oh, dear Lord, yes,” Marge exclaimed. “You have to see him while you’re home. He takes after his name. One-hundred-and-fifty pounds of furry black fluff who adores Caitlyn. He's never far from her side.”

  Caleb breathed a sigh of relief. At least Bear hadn’t suffered because of his life choices. A glance outside showed the clouds piling up.

  “Well,” he said, “I need to get going if I’m to make it home before dark.”

  Marge put the pie and ice cream in a bag and gave it to him, along with another hug; this one with far less groping than the first. “Give your mom a kiss for me, and tell Martha I’ll be up tomorrow to check in on her.”

  He would tell Marge not to bother, but she wouldn’t have it any other way.

  “Thanks.” He kissed her on the cheek and gave a wave as he left the diner. As he drove out of town, he breathed out a deep sigh and frowned. He hated to admit it, but he’d hoped to run into Caitlyn before seeing his mom.

  He needed to see Caitlyn again.

  He needed to know if he’d killed the spark in her eyes.

  Chapter 3

  Caitlyn

  Bear plopped down on the travois, eager to get going, although he wasn't pleased at being told to Sit. He would rather run through the snow than ride behind the noisy snowmobile. Just past noon, they’d already lost too much light and would have only a few hours of daylight to search for the missing girls.

  Caitlyn pointed to the travois. “Get back on, Bear.”

  Bear lifted an eyebrow, silently questioning her seriousness. She could see the wheels in his head turning, wondering if she would notice if he didn’t take the strongly voiced suggestion.

  “I mean it.” She snapped her fingers. “Sit!”

  Bear gave her a soulful look, looking dejected, but he sniffed the travois and settled down.

  “Everybody set?” Sheriff Johnson thumped the back of Jerry’s rig and looked to Tom Studer and Bob Jenkins who strapped down their rucks on their snowmobiles. They each gave a nod which had the sheriff turning to her. “You good to go, Caitlyn?”

  “Ready.” She checked on Bear, giving him a rub and a pat. Bear gave her another look as if testing her resolve. “I promise buddy, you can run the whole way home.” He settled down and propped his muzzle on his front paws.

  “All right!” Sheriff Johnson clapped his hands. “Everyone knows the drill, we search until dusk, then turn around. I can’t afford to lose any of you on that trail.”

  He said we as if he would be up in the mountains with them. Not that she judged. Someone had to man the radios and coordinate their efforts. Marge offered to take on that role, but Sheriff Johnson didn’t feel comfortable handing over that duty. To his credit, he called for backup from the neighboring town of Peace Springs, but additional rescue teams would take a day to arrive. Tomorrow, they would have more help, if the snows didn’t close the roads.

  She didn’t intend on needing help in the morning. Bound and determined, she would find them tonight, because if they turned back before finding those girls, it was a veritable death sentence. She didn’t trust the girls to find adequate shelter and make it through until morning. Those were thoughts she kept to herself. First off, it was judgmental. Second, as a woman herself, she didn’t want to suggest they weren’t capable because they were female. The truth was, most kids didn’t have a clue about basic survival skills. She said a silent prayer, hoping for a quick rescue. Barring that, she hoped whoever their mentor was hadn’t sent two girls up into the mountains without talking about emergencies and contingencies.

  Fat flakes drifted down from heavily laden clouds. The temperature hadn’t fallen below zero, and wouldn’t until the storm hit. When it did, things would change quickly. A quick check on the straps holding her snowshoes in place and she was ready to go. Now, to wait on the others.

  The plan was for them to ride up the main trail together before separating to search their individual quadrants. With the go-ahead given, she headed out with her single action Casull strapped to her waist and her father’s lever action Winchester secured in the shotgun holster attached to the snowmobile.

  They stopped several times. Each time, they looked for signs of the hikers, blew whistles and waited for a responding distress call. They found and heard nothing. Eventually, their search party split up and headed to their designated search area.

  As the temperatures plummeted, the falling snow turned from fluffy, fat flakes to needle thin slivers. As it fell, the air sizzled.

  Three hours into her search, there was still no sign of the girls. Not that she expected to be the one who found them. Tom, who took the quadrant along the path of the girls’ hike, would be most likely to find them, but if the girls wandered from the trail, it would be on her, Jerry, and Bob to be thorough in their search.

  With the coming of dusk, shadows lengthened, turning the rugged landscape into perilous terrain. She slowed her progress and scanned ahead. Nothing but an expanse of white and a smattering of trees stretched out before her. A few hundred feet up, the trees would thicken and impede her progress. Bear sat on his haunches, adjusting for the bumpy ride, and sniffed the air, enjoying himself while she searched.

  A speck of orange caught her attention, and she pulled to a stop.

  “Hey, Bear let's go check that out.”

  Down a hill too steep for the snowmobile to navigate, the flash of orange waved in the wind. She strapped on her snowshoes, checked the pistol at her waist and grabbed her Winchester. Bears and wolves were to be respected in the mountains, and an experienced guide never went without at least two forms of defense. If Bear sensed any bears or wolves, he would alert her to their presence, but he couldn’t protect her from an attack.

  “Come on.” She gave him permission to head out and Bear leaped off the travois with an excited woof. He nuzzled the snow and buried his snout in the powdery substance. Then he bounded down the hill, a ball of energy, in the direction she gestured. Never formally trained, Bear followed a robust range of commands based upon signals they developed between themselves over the years. He was incredibly attentive to her needs and often seemed to know exactly what she needed him to do.

  He headed down to the flash of orange and she followed at a much slower pace as she picked a safe path down the hill. It was too early to get excited. Many hikers enjoyed the mountains, and practically everyone in Bear Creek hunted. Any one of them could have left something behind. Many left orange-blaze trail markers, then forgot to take them down as they trekked back out.

  As she drew close, Bear dug around what appeared to be a pack half buried in the snow. She hurried over to help him out, removing the folded-up spade from her pack. Bear didn’t need her help and uncovered a backpack. He gave her another satisfied woof, proud of his discovery.

  She gave him a pat on the head, praising
his effort, then bent down to examine the pack.

  “You’re a really good boy, Bear. Now, let’s see what we’ve got.”

  Bulky, the pack held the remains of a satellite phone. Most concerning, however, was the blood saturating the shoulder straps and the large gashes which rent the fabric.

  “This phone is toast.” She glanced around. “This wasn’t a bear, Bear.”

  The mountain lion who shredded the pack wouldn’t still be around, but at least now she knew what happened to the girls.

  Somehow, they deviated from their path, either they got lost or something caught their eye. A mountain lion stalked and attacked them. The question became what happened next?

  With the falling snow, there were no obvious tracks to help her figure things out. Any footprints were long since covered. She believed the girls fought off the mountain lion. It wounded at least one of them.

  “Then what happened, Bear? What do you think the girls did?”

  She tried the satellite phone, but the mountain lion had destroyed it. That explained why the girls hadn’t called out. She pulled out her cell phone to call in her findings but found she was in a dead zone for reception. Her radio was up by the snowmobile.

  “We need to call this in.” She wasn’t looking forward to hiking back up the steep hill. Before she did, she took a moment to think.

  If a mountain lion had jumped her and ripped the pack off her back, what would she do? Putting herself in the girls’ shoes helped her to figure out what might have happened next. More importantly, it would answer where they went. If it had been her, she would’ve run. Presumably, once the mountain lion had the pack, it went after it and any food inside of it. The girls were larger prey and the mountain lion probably wouldn’t take them both down. That gave the girls a chance to run.

  Down made the most sense. Caitlyn would’ve tried to find someplace safe and defensible. And if one of them was injured, it would also have to be somewhere she could help her friend.

  Shadows deepened around her, lengthening as she lost the light. Her first thought was to find the girls, but experience told her that would only put her and Bear in danger. She took ten minutes to blow the whistle, listening for any signs of the girls. Bear’s ears never twitched and other than the falling snow, she heard nothing.

  “Well, do we go back or camp here for the night?” She turned to Bear, not because he would answer, but because she needed to think out loud. If she stayed, she could make camp and continue the search in the morning. Hopefully, she’d have the girls down the mountain before the worst of the storm hit.

  Bear cocked his head.

  “Okay, if you insist.” She crouched down and gave Bear a hug. “Let’s go back to the snowmobile and set up camp.”

  Less than an hour later, she had her tent set, an area cleared for the fire, and enough dry wood to last through the night. An argument ensued when she used the radio to call in and told Sheriff Johnson her plans. There wasn’t anything he could do, and he ended the call telling her to be safe; like she didn’t have years of experience camping in the mountains, or the survival skills to rival the most experienced rescuer.

  Staying warm wouldn’t be a problem, not with a hundred-and-fifty-pounds of muscle and fluff to snuggle with through the night. A quick scroll through her phone and she set an early alarm for three am which would give her plenty of time to break camp. Then she pulled up a book on her cell phone and settled in.

  At the base of the slope a tributary which fed Bear Creek meandered down from the mountains. If the girls were running from a mountain lion, they would have headed downhill, rather than attempt the more rigorous climb up to a nearby trail. She bet the girls took the easier route. Down by the river, they would have shelter among the boulders which littered the side of the creek. This was a prime area for bear dens and smaller caves which housed all kinds of wildlife. They may have found one to shelter inside.

  If the girls set a fire, it would ward off the mountain lion, and she had to hope the girls weren’t complete idiots. If they were brave enough to venture into the mountains to collect data chips from game cameras near bear dens, they should have an ounce of sense and knowledge about how to light a fire.

  She peered through the darkness, sniffing the air. There was no scent of wood smoke, but it was possible the wind blew it away from her position. She stacked logs inside a makeshift fire ring and started a fire. Bear snuggled beside her as she leaned against the snowmobile.

  As she nodded off, Bear became agitated and growled into the distance. Over the crackling of the fire, she couldn’t hear anything, but she turned her flashlight on and scanned the area. Knowing a mountain lion prowled somewhere nearby, she added more wood to the fire. With Bear curled by her side, she knew she would be safe.

  At three am, her alarm woke her, and she broke camp. The fire had died out, and she kicked apart the embers and piled snow on top. Thinking about Bear’s agitation, she walked around her campsite.

  Sure enough, a mountain lion had paced all around them, circling several times around her camp. Odd that it would approach so close. Either it was a very brave mountain lion, it was hungry, or it was sick, because most cats kept a wide berth from humans.

  The sun had yet to rise. A quick dusting of her snowmobile, and the travois, and she was ready to resume her search. Except, it wasn't safe taking the snowmobile down that hill.

  Sheriff Johnson knew her rough position and would send help in a few hours. To mark her snowmobile, and knowing more snow would fall, covering up her tracks and possibly the snowmobile itself, she placed blaze-orange markers in the branches of the trees overhead. One on each side ensured that, even if covered in snow, she could find her snowmobile when she returned. She added a third marker, cutting the fabric into a rough triangle which pointed down the hill. When the men came, they would know where she stopped and which direction she headed.

  “You ready?” She scratched behind Bear’s shoulders. He responded with a waggle of his butt. “All right boy…” She gestured down the hill. “Let’s go find some girls.”

  With one last sniff of the pack, she hoped he got the girls’ scent. It would be hard, if not impossible, for him to track them in the snow, but Bear constantly surprised her with the things he could do.

  Chapter 4

  Caleb

  The drive up the mountains brought a flood of memories and wrapped a vise around Caleb’s heart. He left Bear Creek after high school and made no effort to return until now. Although, to come back would be admitting a tie to this place.

  How many summers had he spent with Caitlyn exploring the woods outside his window?

  Crotchet’s Gully was the first place he took her to try out her brand-new mountain bike after her seventh birthday. He grinned with the memory of her racing down the trails, pigtails flying, back tire skidding, and her squealing with the thrill of it all. He thought she would die, certain her recklessness would have her careening off the narrow trail and down the cliff. He remembered being so scared and yet had never felt so alive. Her joy filled his heart until he thought it would burst.

  Everything about Caitlyn made him smile.

  Fat snowflakes fell from the sky, lazy spinners spiraling down before coming to rest on a pristine blanket of white. The tires of his Jeep crunched as they cut through the snow. The roads had been plowed, but new snow piled up.

  Up, over the rise, he passed the road leading down to Keller’s pond which ended at an abandoned strip-mine. When they were twelve, Caitlyn landed her first jump on her motorcycle. It was also the place where he broke his arm trying to show off how much higher he could jump than a girl.

  With his arm in a cast, they spent the rest of the summer at the old movie theater, trying to catch popcorn in their mouths. Once his cast came off, they took their bikes to higher elevations where they challenged each other down steeper trails. The days grew long, and the nights beckoned with unspoken mysteries. They discovered a cave exploring Cutter’s Gap, and that was the firs
t time they spent the night in the woods just the two of them.

  An outdoor enthusiast and lifelong rancher, Caitlyn’s father raised her to respect nature and ensured she had all the skills she needed to survive outdoors. She taught Caleb how to light a fire with a stick and string. She even showed him how to find flint among the rock scree and use it to strike a fire.

  Long summer nights shortened as the seasons changed. Childhood friends turned into something more as their bodies matured. However, a restlessness tugged at him when thoughts of getting married and staying in Bear Creek crossed his mind.

  Memories of Caitlyn stirred a more pressing need. As he pulled up outside his mom’s cabin, he reached down to adjust his growing erection. Caitlyn always had that effect on him.

  That was why he didn’t come home.

  He couldn’t reconcile his feels between Caitlyn and the Corps.

  It’s why he never thought of the girl he left behind.

  But would he change anything? The Marines opened many doors. He saw the world and chased his dreams. Everything he wanted, he’d been able to accomplish, but only by turning his back on forever.

  Warm, yellow light spilled out from the windows of his home. His mother lived alone and insisted on keeping all the lights on. She always had, and would do so forever. She didn’t worry about power bills, saying she’d rather get murdered in the light than die in the dark. That way her killer would see her face and it would make it easier to haunt him.

  His mother wasn’t kidding. Even when she slept, except for the bedroom light, she kept the house bright and the shadows at bay.

  He turned off the engine and killed the lights. Already, his heart swelled. It was good to be home. Before his boots hit the ground, the front door slammed open. His mother stood in her rubber duckies, wool pants, plaid shirt, and peered out into the dark with a shotgun at her hip.