Rough Terrain

ROUGHTERRAIN This work is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Copyright © 2022 by Laura J. Eldridge All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission from the author. ISBN: 979-8-9866480-0-2 For my great aunt Gert, thanks for believing I was going to be an author all those years ago. Contents Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Ten Months Later Acknowledgements Chapter One Indian Mound State Forest Ramsey, Idaho, 2009 The last of the rain had moved out overnight and the air had come in cold, more seasonable for October in the high country, causing fog to encompass the mountain. It was nearing dawn; the only noise being the occasional drip of water from branches as they splashed off rocky outcroppings that were scattered throughout the leaf-covered forest floor. A pair of wolves trotted through the murkiness, their paws making no sound on the wet leaves, in search of an early morning meal; their thick, gray fur blending into the fog. The larger, male wolf stopped and sniffed the air, the female several steps behind. Lowering into a crouch, the two moved cautiously forward. Several feet in front of them, on the ground, was a hind leg of a caribou. Instinct and hunger took over caution as the smaller wolf advanced and began to nibble on the carcass. The hunter swore under his breath as he looked through the scope on his rifle and centered it on the smaller animal. The wolves were hard to see through the pea soup weather but it was as close as he could get without giving off his scent. He needed a clear shot if he was going to take them both down. The larger wolf was hanging back, obviously not trusting that his meal was so easily presented. The huntsman had been tracking these two for several hours. He had figured out their likely path and he’d gotten ahead of them. They’d shown up right on cue. C’mon Lobo, he willed the larger animal to move forward. Bagging these two meant that he could sell the pelts for pocket change and still take care of some unfinished business before noon. • • • The Chevy Blazer’s headlights bobbed erratically as the vehicle navigated the steep mountain passageway. The fog was so thick that the weak light barely illuminated the ghostly shadows of trees that lined the dirt road. In the cab of the vehicle, Amanda Whittier braced her jean-clad legs and multi-colored sneakers against the floorboards as the Blazer hit another deep crevice, causing the vehicle to bounce like a carnival ride. Pink polka dot socks peered out from underneath her cuffs. It seemed that her father drove from memory as he tried to avoid the deep ruts created by recent torrential rains, which made the road almost impossible to travel. Being in the mountains, it wouldn’t have been unusual to have to go through snow this time of year, but it had been a warm fall so far. The dashboard’s lights gave off a soft glow and the radio was quietly playing a favorite station. Stealing a glance at her father, Amanda smiled to herself. He’d worked as a game warden at the Indian Mound State Park for as long as she could remember. It had become routine to accompany him on his rounds before he dropped her off at school. Her mother had died six years before, when Amanda was eight. It had seemed like minutes from the time the lump had been found to her funeral. This park and surrounding mountains were as familiar to her as her own backyard. As if feeling her stare, he turned and grinned at her. “Tell me again why we are up here on your day off?” she asked. Mark Whittier regarded his only child with amusement. Her honey-blond hair was pulled back into a French braid, showing off her mother’s green eyes and heart-shaped face. “We’re up here because I left some paperwork at the tower. Knowing your uncle Peter, he’ll have the place looking like a bomb went off and I’ll never be able to find it again!” Amanda laughed. Mark’s brother, Peter, was also a game warden. Amanda had been just a baby when Peter had gotten divorced and began drinking heavily. He had been sober for over five years now and appeared to be getting his life back together. What Mark didn’t tell Amanda was that he was worried about his brother. For several months, Peter had been acting secretive, disappearing for long periods of time and was constantly late for work. It might be coincidence, but it seemed that his disappearances coincided with increased poaching activity in the park. Mark had tried to talk to his brother the night before, to get some answers, but Peter had avoided looking directly at him and had sidestepped all his questions. While he hadn’t smelled any liquor on his brother’s breath or noticed any blood shot eyes or other tell-tale signs that Peter had been drinking again, Mark just felt in his gut that something was wrong. Peter had the early shift this morning and Mark just wanted to check on him to make sure that he was okay. • • • The Blazer turned into the driveway of the fire tower: a large square wooden structure that thrust one hundred and twenty-five feet into the air. Stairs zigzagged up the middle to a lookout deck offering a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of the park and the mountain range that gave the