Stalking Ground (10 page)

Snowflakes gave off tiny hissing sounds as they fell into the fire. The storm didn’t show any sign of letting up. She’d checked Robo’s bandage a couple times and thought the blood flow was slowing.

“Mattie!” she heard a voice shout off to the east. “Mattie! It’s Cole!”

“Cole!” she called to him. “We’re over here.”

Robo pulled against her to stand, so she let him, not wanting him to struggle and aggravate the bleeding.

“I see your fire,” Cole called out. Moments later he materialized through the trees, the shod hooves of the horse he rode creating a muffled click against snow-covered rocks as he approached.

She walked out to greet him as he dismounted, and when he opened his arms, it felt natural for her to step into his embrace to give him a hug. His arms and body were warm; the fabric of his down coat felt smooth against her cheek as she rested it against his chest. He smelled of winter, snow, and pine forest. But it took only a few moments for her to grow uncomfortable with their closeness. She shivered.

“You’re cold,” he said.

“A bit,” she said, pulling away. She avoided his eyes, looking at Robo instead. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you. Robo’s been hurt. Mountain lion attack.”

Concern filled Cole’s face. “Robo, come here. Let me take a look at you.”

Cole bent over the dog while Mattie trained the flashlight and regained her composure. Cole’s arrival created such a wave of relief; she thought she might melt into the ground.

“I think I’ve been able to slow the blood flow. But the stain has gotten bigger, so it must still be seeping,” she said.

“I’m not going to take the bandage off yet. It’s best to keep some pressure on it, and let’s make an icepack with some snow to put on it. That ought to stop the bleeding.”

“I didn’t think of that.”

Cole stood up. “You’ve done a great job. Let me unpack some things and look for a plastic bag to make that pack.”

Mattie started toward her own backpack. “I have an evidence bag we can use.”

“Are you okay, Mattie? The lion didn’t get at you, did it?”

“No, I’m fine. Robo got between us.”

“He’s a brave dog.”

She leaned down to scoop snow into the evidence bag. “He is. We were both pretty shaken up afterward.”

Cole placed a hand on her shoulder. “I can imagine.”

Mattie bent toward Robo to refocus attention on him. Cole took the bag from her, tied the top, and handed it back.

“Hold this against the bandage while I unpack,” he said.

Mattie settled down onto the log and pulled Robo in to cradle him against her chest. She pressed the makeshift icepack over the gauze pad. “We’d decided we were going to have to stay here by ourselves tonight.”

“I couldn’t let that happen.”

“Thank goodness. Did you hear the lion scream?”

“I did,” he said, while he unpacked the panniers. “It’s the eeriest sound in the world.”

“It scared the bejesus out of me when I first heard it. I decided to build up the fire and went to get wood. That’s when it attacked.”

“Atypical behavior,” Cole said. “But I suppose this time of year, it could have been a female with a cub.”

“I saw fur and bones in the area right before it jumped Robo.”

“You might have stumbled onto a cache. They often store a kill and come back to it. Especially if they’re feeding babies.” He paused and looked around, searching outside the ring of light made by the fire. “Where is Adrienne buried?”

“About forty feet over that way.” Mattie nodded toward the site. “I also have some evidence marked out between here and there. I camped here to keep anyone who might come from accidentally disturbing it.”

“I’ll stay away. Poor Adrienne. I feel terrible about this. I didn’t know her well, but what I knew was all good.”

“That’s what I’ve gathered.” Mattie wondered if the dead woman’s soul still lingered and was listening in.

“Do you know how she died?”

Cole’s participation in the sheriff’s posse gave him a semiofficial status. And after he’d ridden up here in the face of a snowstorm to help, she felt like she could give him information—what little she had to share. “Not yet. But she’s buried in an unmarked grave. I doubt if it was natural causes.”

“Good God, what’s happening around here?”

Mattie shrugged. “It’s hard to say. I doubt if this is related to last summer’s deaths.”

Cole had taken off the leather panniers and began to unsaddle his horse. “I’m lucky this fellow has been up here before.
He seemed to know his way. When I started out, I could see the tapes that marked the trail. But once it got dark and started to snow, things got dicey.”

“How did you manage?”

“I had a flashlight, and Mountaineer stuck to the trail like a mountain goat. He stopped when he reached the cairn you built.”

“I built it where it would mark the place to leave the trail.”

“It did the job.” Cole was unpacking the panniers. “Here’s my kit. I never go hunting without one.”

He was holding a rectangular, leather case similar to one men use for travel. Sitting down on the log next to her, he unzipped it and started taking out his supplies. “I’ve got everything we need right here—lidocaine, antiseptic sponges, antibiotic cream, and skin staples. Okay, Robo, will you let me take a look?”

Mattie held Robo while Cole unwrapped the bandage. She reached for her flashlight and trained it on Robo’s shoulder. With a gentle touch, Cole inspected the wound as he frowned with concentration. Although the heavy bleeding had subsided, Mattie’s stomach lurched when she saw the gaping slash.

“This doesn’t look too bad,” Cole said, glancing at her. He gave her a smile of reassurance. “I mean, I know it looks terrible, but the muscle is still intact. It’s primarily a skin tear, and it shouldn’t slow him down much. He’s one lucky dog.”

Mattie felt such relief she couldn’t respond. She pressed her lips to the top of Robo’s head.

“I don’t have a muzzle, but I can fashion one out of your leash,” Cole said.

“He might be okay without it.”

“Yeah, maybe. But he’s still pretty pumped up, and I’ve learned not to take the chance.”

“All right.” Mattie reached to retrieve a leash from her utility belt. “Let me put it on him. Just tell me how to do it.”

“Wrap it around his muzzle, make a tie below his chin, take the ends back behind his ears and secure it there with another tie.”

Mattie murmured soothing words while she followed Cole’s instructions. Robo’s brow furrowed with his disapproval, but he allowed her to finish the process. She pulled him in for a hug and told him he was a good boy. When Cole took out a syringe to fill with the numbing medicine, she decided to look away, choosing instead to hold Robo close and rub his ears.

“A little sting,” Cole said as he began blocking the wound.

Robo flinched and then settled while the medicine took effect. At that point, Mattie watched the fire while Cole worked. When he finished, the gash on Robo’s shoulder had been cleaned and closed with a series of staples. The blood flow had all but stopped.

Cole leaned back to inspect his work. “When we get down to the truck tomorrow, I’ll start him on antibiotics.”

“Thank you.” It was hard to put into words how good it felt to know Robo was taken care of and he was going to be okay.

“I’m not going to put a bandage on it. It’s too far forward on his shoulder for him to irritate it, and I want to leave it where we can check it easily. It should heal just fine open to the air. But let’s cover it with gauze so you can apply the icepack for a few more minutes.”

While Mattie took care of Robo, Cole used one of his antiseptic sponges and some water to wash his hands.

“Are you hungry?”

“I guess I am. Robo might be, too.”

“I brought food for both of you.”

He turned back to the panniers, indicating the items. “There’s food, water, a tent, and some space-age blankets. I couldn’t fit sleeping bags in.”

“I won’t do much sleeping tonight anyway. A blanket sounds like exactly what I need.”

Cole set out containers of thick ham sandwiches, apple slices, baby carrots, bottles of water, and what appeared to be homemade brownies.

“You’ve brought a feast,” she said.

“Mrs. Gibbs made it.”

“That was nice of her.”

Cole came close to check Robo’s wound. “I think we can leave that alone for a while and check it later. It looks like it’s stopped bleeding.”

Mattie cleaned her hands with an antiseptic sponge that Cole gave her. She fed Robo a cup of the food that Cole had brought, but he didn’t seem interested. Considering what he’d been through, she wasn’t too surprised. She left it so that he could get to it if he should change his mind. She and Cole each selected a sandwich from the container and took seats on opposite ends of the log.

“I hope Mrs. Gibbs is going to work out,” he said. “It sure would make things easier at home if she did. But the girls seem to be giving her a tough time. Or at least Angie is, I should say. Sophie’s just following suit.”

Mattie chewed her sandwich, staring at the fire. She and Cole didn’t talk about their personal lives. She really didn’t know what to say, and she didn’t want to probe.

Cole seemed not to have any problem with the conversation. “Mrs. Gibbs had a talk with me this morning, and it’s been bothering me all day.”

“Oh?”

“She took the girls to see Leslie Hartman yesterday after school. I guess Angie was real quiet on the way home, and Mrs. Gibbs asked her what was wrong. Angie gave her some lip.”

“Maybe she didn’t want to talk about what was bothering her with someone she barely knows.”

“You’re probably right about that,” he said, taking a bite and pausing to chew. “What bothers me, though, is that Mrs. Gibbs suggested that Angie has had too much trauma in her life to handle lately.”

Mattie swallowed her food. “School counselor.”

“What?”

Since Mattie taught the antidrug program at Timber Creek High, she knew the faculty. “There’s a counselor at school you could talk to. Her name’s Mrs. Willis. Have you met her?”

“No, but I know who she is.”

“You could talk to her to get her opinion. She seems nice, and the kids like her. I bet she could help you decide what to do.” She was in
this
deep, she might as well go deeper; after all, this was Angie they were talking about. “Have you tried to talk to her about her feelings?”

He appeared to squirm in his seat. “I did. I tend to screw things up. I think I ended up telling her she needs to act more respectful toward Mrs. Gibbs or something like that.”

She smiled. “Sounds like a dad.”

“Does it?” He looked relieved. “That’s what I am. I’ll never be able to fill their mom’s shoes. Anyway, it’s hard for me to talk to her about how she feels right now. We all feel pretty torn up about things.”

“Maybe all of you could use some professional help.”

“Good Lord. I’m not sure I could go for that. I think we just need a little time.”

“Well, start with Angie then.”

“Yeah. I’ll think about it.”

The fire snapped. Mattie stretched her feet out toward it, welcoming the warmth that seeped into the soles of her boots as the snow fell peacefully around them.

“You told me you were raised in foster care. How did that happen? What happened to your parents?”

She studied his face, wondering what made him ask about her past. She rarely shared that part of herself.

“I’m sorry,” he said, giving her a searching look. “That might be something you don’t want to talk about. I didn’t think.”

“No, it’s okay. But why do you want to know?”

He scrutinized her. “I was thinking about my girls, how hard it is on them to be abandoned by their mom. It made me think of you being raised without either parent. It’s none of my business really.”

Mattie looked out toward the gravesite. “There’s no reason I can’t talk about my childhood. I typically don’t, so I’m not used to it.”

“Then let’s talk about something else. How about those Broncos?”

Mattie couldn’t help but smile. He did have a way of easing her discomfort. “No, I want to talk about it now.”

He placed another log on the fire and settled back into his seat. Robo lay at her feet, and his eyebrows twitched as he fought sleep.

“There were four of us in my family, like yours, but my sibling is a brother. My dad was an alcoholic. A violent drunk.
He hit all of us at one time or another, but most of the time, he beat on my mom.”

“What was your mom like?”

“Do you mean, did she drink, too? No, she didn’t.”

“No, I meant what I said—what was she like?”

“Well, I was only six when our family broke up. But I remember her as being quiet, gentle, loving toward us kids.” Mattie forced herself to examine her memories from an adult perspective. “I think she was probably afraid most of the time. I remember her as being very pretty with black hair and dark eyes, Hispanic ancestry. She was small, much smaller than my dad.”

She shivered and her chest tightened. Even thinking about it brought back the scary feelings of living in a house where violence reigned.

Cole got up and went to the pannier again, this time bringing back a blanket. He bent over and wrapped it around her, placing a warm hand on her shoulder for a moment before sitting back down.

“One night he beat her worse than he ever had before.” Mattie could still remember putting her fingers in her ears to block the sound of the punches, closing her eyes to shut out the sight of blood and the dazed look on her mother’s face as she fought to remain conscious. “He reached for a kitchen knife, and I knew he meant to use it on her. So I sneaked to my parent’s room and dialed nine-one-one. The cops came, my dad went to prison, and my mom was taken to the hospital.”

Cole had crossed his arms over his chest. “What a thing to have to go through. Did your mother die?”

“No. She got out of the hospital, but she didn’t want to take care of me and my brother anymore. She turned us over
to the county. I haven’t seen or heard from her since the night the ambulance came to take her away.”

“Is your dad still living?”