Chapter Eight

Chris and Greg Manning were riding in the backcountry, looking for a hiking club from San Francisco. They were only a day past due and that normally wouldn't cause concern, but this group consisted mostly of kids. They had started up the South Rim Trail, which by itself is twenty-seven miles long. But, inevitably, hikers miss the loop trail and keep on into the backcountry, hiking the Nevada Trail for many miles before they realize it.

"You ride pretty good for a girl, McKenna."

"So do you, Greg."

Chris rolled her eyes to the heavens, cursing Roger for making her take Greg along. Besides Bobby, Greg was the only other trained SAR volunteer in Sierra City, but they clashed and Chris would just as soon only use him in emergencies. Roger, however, thought otherwise. Greg was strong, a body builder, and he didn't hide the fact that he thought SAR was no job for a woman. When things slowed down at the end of summer, Chris planned a training session with Greg and Bobby and she'd show him just how qualified she really was. In the meantime, she had to put up with his sexist comments.

"What was Yosemite like?" he asked, ignoring her comment.

"Crowded. Busy. Lots of lunatics from the city."

"You must have fit right in," he said sarcastically.

"Oh, absolutely, Greg," she said just as sarcastically. "You would not have though. Neanderthals were pretty much extinct there." She gave her horse a nudge, breaking into a trot and away from Greg.

They stopped at dark, setting up camp along side a small stream. She radioed in while Greg collected wood for a fire.

"We're following tracks, Roger. It's got to be them."

"Surely they realized they were on the wrong damn trail and headed back," he said. "I told them about the loop trail three times, McKenna. Three times. How hard can it be?"

"I guess that means Matt didn't find anything?"

"Negative. They missed the cutoff."

"We'll start out at first light, Roger. We'll find them tomorrow."

"Yeah, well, if you don't run into them pretty quick, I'll have to call in air support from the County. I'm going to have about fifteen parents getting hysterical real soon. Call me when you start out tomorrow. I'll be here."

It was fully dark by the time they had the campfire going and water boiling for their dinner. Greg pulled over a downed tree for them to sit on and Chris stretched her legs out toward the fire.

"It's been awhile since I've been out at night," Greg said.

"Me, too. I like it."

In Yellowstone, Chris had often taken her time off to go camping, stealing a few days to get away from the crowds and hike into the backcountry to be alone. In Yosemite, especially during the summers, there were few days off and even then, it was difficult to find a trail that wasn't occupied by a hundred others. She didn't miss the crowds, that was for sure. Sierra City was a great place to unwind after eight hectic years at Yosemite.

She watched Greg silently, searching her mind for a safe topic they could discuss without egos and testosterone getting in the way. She thought of none. So instead, they added the boiling water to their freeze-dried dinners and sat quietly around the fire listening to owls in the distance and the occasional howl of a coyote.

The next morning, as the sun was just creeping over the mountain peaks, they had their horses saddled and were on the trail again. At nine, they heard the high-pitched singing of adolescent boys. They looked at each other and smiled. Ten minutes later, they came upon the group heading their way.

"Hi there," Greg said, leaning over in his saddle.

"Hello. You're rangers, I hope." One of the two adults came forward, relief showing on his face.

"Search and Rescue."

"We missed that loop trail Mr. Hamilton was telling us about. We turned around two days ago."

"You're probably two more nights on the trail," Chris said, swinging out of the saddle. "How're your supplies?"

"We should be okay. I guess some of the parents are getting worried?"

"For sure," she said. "I'll radio in and let them know you're okay." She glanced at Greg. "Feel like camping for a couple more nights? One of us should probably stay with them," she suggested. She really wasn't up to two nights with fifteen young boys and two adult men.

"Sure. I can handle it, McKenna. You run on back."

Chris gritted her teeth but managed a brief smile. "I'll leave the radio with you. Just in case you get into trouble."

She rode fast, putting distance between them, trying to ward off the foul mood that had settled over her. Spending time with Greg usually did that to her. She stopped for a moment when she came to a stream crossing to let the horse rest, then she pushed on. It was well after dark when she arrived at the lodge. Bill and Peggy were always kind enough to let them use their horses and Roger tried to compensate them as best the budget would allow. The stable was already closed for the night so Chris brushed down the horse herself. She had pushed the horse hard but she didn't want to spend another night out on the trail. The horse was munching happily on the grain Chris left out and her own stomach let her know she had skipped lunch. She thought about stopping by the Rock but she needed a shower and she wasn't really in the mood for one of Dave's surprises. Canned soup at the cabin sounded better.

After her shower, she sat on the sofa relaxing with a glass of wine. Dillon was curled in her lap, purring loudly, having forgiven her for leaving him alone the night before. She had J. T. Stone's book out and she flipped it over, looking at the picture on the back. She wondered, not for the first time, how she could be so attracted to someone just from a picture. The author was certainly attractive, but it was more than that. Chris thought perhaps it was the eyes that drew her. Dark eyes that seemed to look right into her very soul. Or maybe the lips that just hinted at a smile but never quite made it. She finally flipped the book back over with a slight laugh. J. T. Stone was probably no one she would want to meet, judging from the stories Roger had told her of Jessie's childhood. She was probably one mixed up adult now. Anyone who wrote about murder all the time had to be a little strange.

The next week, when she joined Annie again for dinner, Chris asked about her daughter.

"Roger's told me some."

"Oh, it's my own fault. I allowed Jack to take her from me. He was obsessed with her, right from the beginning. He wouldn't even allow me to breastfeed. Here I held this week-old baby in my arms and I had to feed her with a bottle."

"You must have loved him very much then."

"Oh, I did, in the beginning. He was very exciting and very handsome. He took me out of the city and brought me here and I loved it. I was happy. Of course, when I found out about his affairs, the first time, I was devastated. But then I got pregnant and I thought it would all be okay, so I just ignored them, you see. He always came home to my bed and I was so young and foolish. I thought that would be enough. Then Jessie came along and he changed. I realized how little he needed me. Even for Jessie, I was just a cook and housekeeper, someone who was here all the time but who wasn't allowed to share in their lives. He taught her that so I can't totally blame her."

"I'm sorry, Annie, for bringing this up. You don't have to tell me," Chris said, mindful of the sadness in Annie's voice.

"Oh, all that happened thirty years ago," she said, waving her hands dismissively at Chris. "That doesn't bother me now." She pushed her plate aside and refilled her wine, this time a dark cabernet. "I found someone to love me, though," she said quietly. Chris took a sip from her own glass, waiting for Annie to continue.

"His name was Jonathan and he was an attorney in San Francisco. He was older than me, a widower. I went there to inquire about getting a divorce, you see. But I couldn't go through with it. I always held out some hope that Jessie loved me just a little and if I stayed with her father, then I wouldn't lose her completely. Anyway, Jonathan and I started seeing each other and I fell in love with him. Jessie was only twelve then. I vowed to stay with Jack until she graduated high school, then I was going to be with Jonathan."

She held her wineglass in front of her a long moment before finally taking a swallow. Then she smiled and patted Chris's hand.

"Of course, things never turn out the way we plan, do they? Jack found out about Jonathan and he was furious, to say the least. Never mind that he had women all over the state or that we had not been intimate in years." Her voice grew bitter then and she slammed her hand on the table. "He was a bastard all right. Unfortunately, Jessie was home when he decided to bring it all to light. She heard everything and if there was any love in her for me, it died that day. Oh, her eyes looked at me with contempt and hatred. I had made her daddy cry, you see. I had broken his heart." Annie stood up suddenly and took their plates. "Bullshit, of course, but he was a fine actor," she said as she walked away. "A fine actor."

Chris stayed at the table, trying to imagine this woman's grief. All these years to have lived here alone, carrying such painful memories along. Why did she stay here?

Annie came back and reached over the table to fill their glasses. "I find it's best to be drinking whenever I dwell on this subject. Not that I think about it often, Chris. I couldn't survive if I did. But it helps to remember sometimes."

"What about Jonathan?" Chris asked.

"Well, after Jack's death, he wanted to marry me, but there was Jessie to consider. She had not spoken to me since that evening of our fight. Even after the funeral, nothing. It was as if I didn't exist. I couldn't get through to her. Of course, she blamed me for everything and why not? She knew nothing of Jack's affairs over the years. She only knew what he told her and what she had seen. I never went with them on their camping trips or hiking or fishing. She thought, and was told, I'm sure, that I didn't want to be with them. In truth, I wasn't allowed to go, you see. It's my own damn fault for allowing him that control over me but I was young and foolish. Anyway, it was as if I had pushed him myself, for all Jessie cared. We lived in complete silence for nearly nine months, then she left."

"Forgive me for asking, but do you think Jack ever... abused her?"

Annie slid her eyes away quickly and Chris saw the shadows of doubt cross her face, but Annie shook her head.

"No. He wouldn't. It wasn't Jack's style. I mean, he had women. Lots of women," she said.

Chris didn't push. It wasn't her business anyway, although she could see the thought had crossed Annie's mind before. Instead, she moved the conversation back to Jonathan.

"You could have gone to San Francisco, started over," Chris suggested.

"No. I would have been no good for Jonathan then. I stayed here with my sorrow. Wallowed in it, actually." She leaned closer to Chris. "I learned a great deal about wine that first year, Chris," she said quietly, then laughed. "But I always thought that if Jessie needed me for anything, she would at least know where I was. If I moved, how would she find me?"

"But she never did?"

"No. Never. She's done quite well for herself, though." Annie leaned forward and nearly whispered, "Have you noticed how often mothers get murdered in her books? Oh, and not a quick death, either."

Chris laughed with her, impressed again that this woman's spirit had not been broken.

"The only thing I know about her life is what is crammed on the book jacket. Not much, but at least I know she's in New York." Then she shrugged. "You take what you can get, Chris. The rest, you leave to your imagination."