The Forest Connection
By
Lynda Douglas

A loud "whack" jerked Sue from a sound sleep. She sat up abruptly, banging her head on the aluminum tent frame.

The darkness inside the tent was absolute. She reached over to Art's side of the small, two-man tent. His sleeping bag was unzipped, cold, and empty. She crawled through the tent opening into the cold night air. "Art? Did you hear that? Was it a rifle shot?" Silence answered her.

She retrieved her flashlight and played the beam over the area. "Art," she called again softly. She killed the light and stood motionless listening to the quiet sounds of the forest. Crickets chirped, and tree frogs croaked beyond the edges of the camp.

Art claimed his keen perception for anything out of harmony in the woods was his Yakima heritage speaking to him. Had he, too, heard something, sensed something that had awakened him?

Sue looked around for his backpack. It still hung from the tree limb, next to the food stores. If he left his backpack, he hadn't planned to go far, she reasoned. She busied herself packing up their gear. There was nothing to do but wait until morning.

Sunrise, and Art still had not returned. Sue searched the area around the camp. Her experience as a Forest Ranger combined with Art's skillful guidance paid off.

The early morning light revealed his trail leading northeast, deeper into the forest. No established hiking trail existed here, so she had to skirt boulders and deadfall as she picked her way, following his tracks as they gradually descended toward the Chewuch River.

About an hour later, she reached the place where Art's tracks intersected an old hiking trail. The going was easier now and after covering another 300 yards, a confusion of signs brought her to an abrupt halt. More than one person, several in fact, had been in the area only a few hours earlier.

Dark red, almost black droplets of something had splashed on leaves and grass. It looked like dried blood. Sue's apprehension turned to dread. Could it be animal blood? Something had been dragged several yards over the brush. Was someone hunting out of season? Had Art heard them and come to investigate? A few feet further, she found more of the dark smears on a rock outcropping.

The shot she had heard, and she was sure now it had been a shot, when was it, about three o'clock this morning? Art must have left camp long before that. Oh, God, she thought, something is terribly wrong.

Picking up the trail again, her sense of urgency pushed her faster. It wasn't difficult to see where they had been.

Sue spied a bit of blood-streaked yellow tape, snagged on a small bush. Art carried a roll of yellow tape for marking trees. An involuntary shiver went up her spine.

Something foreign to the forest environment insinuated itself, and instinctively she proceeded more cautiously. She stopped, closed her eyes, and tested the air with all her senses, waiting for it to come to her. Tobacco.

Sue dropped to her knees, sniffing the air. Someone was smoking, and the hushed refrains of laughter floated to her through the trees. Stooped low, she crept toward the sound.

She could hear clearly now, voices she didn't recognize. A trio of tents was arranged in the center of a clearing. Just beyond them, three men sat on a downed tree, drinking beer.

Sue spotted a Ford Bronco, camping gear, a cooler, and three rifles. There was no sign of Art.

The youngest of the men tossed his empty can on the ground, and then dipped his hand into the cooler for another. "What do you think we ought to do with him, Charlie?

"Hell, if he wasn't a ranger, I'd say we should just shoot him and hide the body. But seeing as how he..."

Sue's stomach drew into a knot. She had to do something, but she couldn't just stroll into camp and demand they release him. Stay calm, she cautioned herself. Listen and plan.

The oldest man slapped his hands on his knees and pushed himself to his feet. "Damn the luck, anyhow. To my way of thinking, those Forest Service people have come too close too many times. I knew something like this was gonna happen. What I wanna do is cut our losses and get the hell out of here, but what we're gonna do is wait until that buyer, Jelco gets here."

He walked around to the other side of the tree trunk, his hands kneading the flesh above his hipbones. "We'll let Jelco decide what to do with the ranger."

He lit another cigarette and took a long drag from it, exhaling a column of blue-gray smoke. "I'm tired of pushing my luck. I just want to make sure nothing and nobody screws up this deal. And I want out of this business."

"I know Pa, but we ain't gonna get what we want for the crop. Jelco's gonna take the price of paying harvesters out of the money he's paying us. Maybe we should stay with it long enough to harvest it for him. We'll sure get more cash that way."

The older man grimaced at his son's words. "No way. Once we get our hands on that money, we're outta here."

Charlie spoke up. "Now wait a minute, Ross, Billy's got a point. If this here is our last deal, don't you think we should get as much out of it as we can?"

Ross cut the man a menacing glare, but said nothing.

"I know, I know. You don't have to say it. I don't get paid to think." Charlie paused. "You know how I get when I has to sit and wait? Makes me real nervous like. And having that ranger come up on us like that..." He slapped his big hands against his pant legs. Small dust clouds puffed out and settled to the ground.

"I still think we shoulda got rid of him back down the trail. We don't have to tell Jelco squat. Whatever happens after we get our money is his problem. We could just do it and hide the body. Then we'll wait here to collect our money. Jelco'll be none the wiser."

"Well, we ain't gonna do it now, you idiot. I don't want a murder rap hangin' over my head. If Jelco wants him dead, let him do it himself."

"Pa's right. Besides that, Jelco's got that chopper. It'll be easy for him to get rid of the body far enough away from here so nobody will come snooping around and connect us with his disappearance."

"Yeah, yeah, I hear ya," Charlie snapped. "Makes sense I reckon." He stood, paced in nervous circles, then turned toward the tents and Sue's hiding place.

She flattened herself in the brush, and held her breath, fighting the urge to run. He disappeared from view behind one of the tents but emerged again beside the next one.

Sue watched as Charlie jerked back the tent flap and looked inside. He let the flap drop and returned to the others. "He's breathing, but he's still out," he said. "It might be a done deal. That crease we put in his head might be worse than we thought." He retrieved his beer. "What time did you say Jelco was gonna get here?"

"Sunrise. Now stop worrying about it, will ya? You're worse than an old woman with your whining."

Concealing herself behind thickets of tall grass and wild flowers, Sue noiselessly made her way back up the trail out of hearing distance. She knew where they were holding him and after dark, she'd have to get him out of that tent. If his injuries were serious, she might have to leave him and go for help, but could she do that before Jelco, whoever he was, arrived in the morning? She felt so damnably helpless.

Cautiously, she made her way around the camp. Just north of the clearing, a large crop of marijuana, ready for harvesting, confirmed what she had overheard. Art had stumbled across an illegal drug operation.

This was nothing new on National Forest land. For years, armed marijuana growers had been a threat to visitors and to Forest Service employees. Although Sue had no first-hand experience, Art had, several years earlier, when he was still assigned to a ranger district in the Colville National Forest.

Sue lay on her stomach in the midnight darkness. The camp had been quiet for more than an hour. A pale moon had risen, casting an eerie glow over everything. She tucked her blonde hair under her cap and carrying only her knife, her movements deliberate, and calculated, she inched her way across the clearing between the woods and the tents.

Something moved at her left. She hugged the ground and turned her face so the moonlight wouldn't reflect its paleness. She didn't realize she had been holding her breath until the pressure in her chest forced her to breathe. Whatever had made the noise was quiet now and after a few minutes, she continued her slow progress toward the rear of the tent.

She lay outside, listening for sounds from inside, but heard nothing. Was he still alive? Near panic made her hands tremble as she pressed the tip of her blade into a tent seam and began cutting the stitches one by one. It seemed to take forever before she could part the fabric and peer inside.

Art, wide-eyed, stared at her, his face barely discernible in the darkness. He mouthed a silent "shush" and rolled over. His hands and feet were tied behind his back with tent cord. His flesh was so swollen around the cord that she couldn't get the blade under it. She gritted her teeth as she cut through the cord from the top down toward his skin.

After waiting several minutes for the circulation to return to his limbs, they crawled out of the tent and crept toward the cover of the forest. They were almost across the clearing when voices from the largest tent stopped them cold.

"Did you hear something, Pa?"

"What? No, nothing except your mouth. Now go back to sleep, will ya?"

"I tell you, I heard something," he repeated as his head pushed through the tent opening. He turned his head, tilting it from side to side like an animal listening for a predator.

"Think I'll go check on that ranger, Pa."

"Will you get back in here and go to sleep? That ranger's out cold. He ain't going nowhere even if he does come to."

He listened for a moment longer, then apparently satisfied, pulled his head inside.

Sue lay still, feeling the press of Art's body next to hers. Someone coughed and shuffled within the tent. Several minutes passed before she looked up at Art, questioning him with a glance. He gave her a quick nod and they sneaked toward the trees. Once they were under cover, they lay together holding each other.

The left side of Art's face and his black hair were matted with dried blood. Sue fingered the swollen area above his ear with feathery touches and whispered, "Are you hurt badly? I heard a shot during the night. I couldn't find you and then the blood on the trail and..."

"It's only a scalp wound. It bled a lot at first. I knew you'd spot the blood in the daylight. When it stopped bleeding, I had to resort to sneaking pieces of tape out of my shirt pocket to leave on the trail." He lifted her chin. "You've learned your lessons well. I needn't have worried." His lips brushed hers. "Let's get out of here before that guy wakes up again."

"Can you walk?" she asked, helping him to his feet. "It's going to be a long hike. We have to get to the radio. I heard them talking about some drug buyer who'll be here in the morning. I'd like to arrange a welcoming committee."

"So would I," Art agreed.

Backtracking in the dark was no easy task. Dawn came and gave way to full daylight before they made it back to their camp. Art retrieved his backpack and they were on the trail again in just minutes.

"The going will be easier from here to the Jeep, but they're probably out looking for us by now. There will be four of them, if they met that buyer this morning. If something happens and we're separated, head for the trailhead and the Jeep. Radio for help from there. I sure would like..." His hand went up, poised in midair, and he uttered an almost inaudible, "Wait."

Someone or something was moving through the brush behind them. From about a hundred yards away came the sound of a low cough and twigs snapping. Art motioned her to go to the left and indicated that he would go to the right to draw them away. Sue shook her head in violent protest.

Art put his lips to her ear and whispered, "They think I'm alone. Let's keep it that way. We'll have a better chance of getting help if we split up. Now go. This may be our only chance."

Sue reluctantly left the trail. As she moved deeper into the trees and brush, Art disappeared from sight. She angled her trek toward the logging road where they left the Jeep the day before. The thick underbrush pulled at her legs slowing her progress.

Hushed voices close by halted her in mid-stride. She stepped behind the nearest tree and listened. Maybe it wasn't the same people. They couldn't have caught up with her that soon, could they? She recognized one voice as the kid's--the other was probably the buyer, Jelco.

They came toward her, the stranger in the lead. He had high cheekbones and straight ebony hair. An Indian, she thought, but probably Canadian, since he had a French accent. That explains a lot. No white man could have caught up with Art so fast.

Before she could put an evasion plan into action, they were on her. She was no match for the two of them. In only seconds, they pinned her to the ground. Jelco straddled her, holding her arms down at the wrists. He grinned down into her face. "Mon cheri, now where did you come from?" He turned to the other man. "Who is she?"

"Hell, Jelco, how should I know? We thought the ranger was alone. At least he was when we caught him following us. We even back tracked a ways to make sure."

"You are, how you say, an imbecile; you and your pap. Just how do you think the ranger escaped? The ropes, they had been cut, yes? Someone else had to cut him loose, unless you were so stupid as to leave a knife on him."

Struggling under Jelco's weight, Sue caught her breath to scream. He reacted so quickly that she didn't see his fist coming as he struck her.

Hot breathy sounds near her ear pulled her out of a painful haze. Her hands were tied now. Jelco's black eyes glared down at her. "You are like the wild cat," he said. Twisting his fingers into her damp hair, he yanked her head back and growled into her face. "You with that Ranger?" When she didn't answer, he pulled harder. "Maybe you did not hear me." The back of Jelco's hand flashed across her cheek, snapping her head to one side. "Which way did he go? Does he have a radio?"

Sue spit in his face and glared back at him.

"Why you little..." When his hand rose again, it held a skinning knife. He pressed it lightly to her throat. "You'll tell me what I want to know or..."

The loud smack of a rifle butt against bone interrupted his threat. Shock widened Jelco's eyes for an instant before his full weight collapsed across Sue's chest.

With his arms over his head, the kid dropped to the ground beside Sue and Jelco. "Don't shoot! Please don't shoot, Mister."

Art stepped away from them still pointing the rifle at Billy. "Get him off her." He released his knife from his belt and tossed it at Billy's feet. "And cut her loose."

"I didn't do nothin', Mister. It was him," he said, pointing at the unconscious man. "I swear, I didn't do nothin'." Billy hurried to do as Art had instructed, then went down on his knees with his palms together like a man praying. "Please, Mister. Please, don't kill me."

Sue scrambled to her feet struggling to keep her balance. Her knees shook uncontrollably as waves of nausea poured over her. She stumbled to Art's side leaning heavily against him.

Art slid his free arm around Sue's waist and held her close, balancing the rifle with the other arm. "Are you all right? God, I'm sorry. I should have guessed they'd split up."

"I'm fine--now. If you had been any longer I'd hate to imagine..." She shivered.

The unmistakable sound of an approaching helicopter drowned out the terrified young man's pleas for mercy. The deafening whip subsided as the chopper landed in a nearby clearing.

Moments later, County deputies and a Forest Service Criminal Investigator took over the rifle. Art folded his strong arms around Sue's trembling frame.

Later that night, after they had given their statements to the Sheriff, Art told her how he had been able to capture the other two men. The man called Charlie had stepped into a snare Art set on the trail. "I left him hanging upside down from a tree limb while I went after the kid's father. He surrendered without much of a fight. I took his rifle and pushed him ahead of me down the trail to the Jeep, then I radioed the ranger station for help.

"The District Ranger said a helicopter would be in the air in minutes. Once I knew help was on the way, I secured my prisoner to the bumper on my Jeep and 
headed back to find you."

He gently stroked the purple welts on her cheek and kissed her swollen eyelids. His lips were only centimeters away from hers, his breath warm on her face.

"I know the rest of the story", she whispered, as her lips touched his.

He pulled back. "Well, not quite. This whole adventure, if you can call it that, might be the first of many. Although I hope they won't all be so thrilling. A little boredom on the job might be good thing."

Sue looked at him quizzically for a moment. "What are you getting at?"

He shook his raven hair out of his eyes. "I told you I had a special reason for our camping trip. I wanted to be sure we were alone so we could have a serious talk. Then all this happened and we didn't get to...."

"Will you get to the point? You're making me nervous."

"Would you be interested in marrying the newest Law Enforcement Officer for the Wenatchee National Forest District?"

"You mean you got the appointment and the transfer? Why didn't you just tell me?"

His broad smile spread from his lips to his flashing dark eyes. He shook his head and clicked his tongue. "Do you always have to answer a question with a question?"

"I do not! What question?"

"There you go again," he teased.

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Lynda Douglas writes mystery/suspense short stories and novels. Additionally, Lynda is a staff writer for NOVEL ADVICE, a writing craft web magazine, and a member of Sisters in Crime.