Author’s Note:

Custer County in the Black Hills of South Dakota has a wild, rugged and varied landscape. It includes the 65 million year old, eroded solid granite backbone of the Black Hills at its center. Continuing east or west the landscape tapers to foothills, the Ponderosa Pine giving way more and more to the cacophony of color that are the beautiful wild grasses of the hills. And then at the farthest reaches of the county are the beginnings of the plains, high, semi-arid, undulating grasslands. Here can be found cactus growing among the criss-crossing paths made by herds of grazing cattle. This is where the buffalo once roamed freely, where antelope can still be found, and where the prairie rattler, and the prairie dog are common.

Custer County is loved and visited by so many admirers each year it is almost too hard to count them. Persons coming into the county quadruple our population and during the peak parts of tourist season, even double the census count of the entire state. Most of those persons visit the quaint small towns, gift shops, myriad numbers of artists shops and stalls at fairs; they ogle the landscape, hike the trails and marvel at the rock surrounded waters.

They often get lost. Some can be ‘talked out’ by an experienced search and rescue volunteer with the use of a GPS reading taken from their cell phone and a good topographical map showing local ridges, draws and trails in their vicinity. Sometimes they are hurt and we carry them out on stretchers using ATV’s where ever possible to speed our transit time to them and theirs to the always waiting Custer Ambulance crew.

The dogs are called in for the ones that get lost stepping off the paths; this includes the hunters, adventurous hikers, small children, and persons incapable of knowing where they are as in those with Alzheimer’s. It is equally easy to get lost in the middle of a jumble of house-sized rocks, on the mountain’s eroding slopes among fallen timber so torturous and thick even the dogs have trouble getting through it or in the grasslands with their ever present sun and wind.

And, just by design, the places that are easy to get lost in are also very hard to find someone in during a search. If the lost did not leave an established path at some point, the searchers may have no starting point to begin looking for them. Without a starting point, a tracking dog cannot find a trail and an air scent dog cannot locate the right winds to search for scent.

The authorities really do all work together on a search. Custer County takes care of its own and its visitors. Law enforcement, emergency personnel, fire volunteers and search and rescue all wear pagers and come at a call; each to lend their particular talents and skills to a search and, hopefully, rescue of the lost. It is an amazing thing; actually, to be among the ranks of the volunteers in this bit of God-Given heaven we call the hills.

I have worked in search and rescue, with dogs and without while providing emergency medical services with Custer Ambulance, with our local fire department and with Custer County Search and Rescue for several years. I trained and worked my own SAR dogs. My husband was a volunteer EMT, volunteered in SAR and served as a volunteer fireman helping to stop many, many wild land fires during our recent drought years. When I write these stories, I do so using first hand experiences and knowledge.
I plan to write a full-length novel involving canine search and rescue. It will be set in the Black Hills of South Dakota; will include dogs I have known well and characters based upon those I worked with. In offering these short stories for all to read, I was experimenting a bit with style, tone and format.

The first, Seventeen Below, is meant to sound more like a search log with a little excitement thrown in during the actual search with Tahoe. Tahoe died this year. He was a wonderful dog in all ways. He loved to search for people and he was very, very good at it. So, if I am writing about Tahoe, even in terms of including him in an incident log come to life, I have to include a little of his charm, his dedication and in his skill in the story.

The second story, Fallen, is meant to show that search and rescue personnel and their canines do put their lives on the line during every search. And sometimes we lose our lives trying to save others. I cried while writing this story. I hope you cry while reading it.

The third short story, Fire, is meant to be the most like a novel in tone and personality. In this story you get a little more description of the characters, a little romance, a view into the shortcomings and fears of a character, a little fantasy or taste of the Para-normal, and an exciting search scene as our rescuers outrun a fire.

I hope you enjoy reading the stories as much as I did writing them to share with you. Look for Jana, Cristi, Mike, Charlie, Denny, Dave and others in more stories in the future.

Seventeen
Below

CHAPTER ONE:

Seventeen degrees below zero (-17F); frostbite weather even without a wind. It was still three hours until daylight as dog handler Jana Stein, K-9 Tahoe, and their flanker, Mike Richards deployed into the silent Black Hills forest and were quickly lost from sight. Incident Command (IC) finalized staging near the old dilapidated, primer-covered Chevy pickup sitting empty in the softly falling snow. Two neatly folded army surplus blankets and a small Styrofoam cooler containing frozen sandwiches and a battered thermos of lukewarm, hot chocolate were sitting on the truck’s seat. There was no sign of the boy or his father.

Custer County authorities were experienced and adept at locating and rescuing lost persons. Serving a county frequented by tourists and out-of-area hunters they had to be. Staffed by volunteers, search and rescue (SAR) assisted in finding and caring for the lost along with paid staff from the sheriff’s department and the county ambulance service. Emergency Dispatch 211 operators fielded lost person calls 24-7 and were trained to determine whether to page law enforcement, search and rescue or ambulance personnel. In this case the responding operator had paged and then relayed information to all three.

Deputy Jim Davis had briefed volunteers before the canine team left the staging area. He’d delegated Incident Command to Custer County Search and Rescue but stayed on site to assist. He’d also supplied a fact sheet with pertinent information regarding this case, starting with its initiation. Davie Freeman, a ten-year-old boy, was missing and presumed lost. His mother had made the report at 2330 last night. The temperature at that time had been zero and falling.

A section of the fact sheet contained 211-call dialogue. “My little boy’s lost,” the caller sobbed. “His father took him hunting. He got cold so Duane sent him back to the truck to warm up. Davie never made it there. I-I-I’m afraid. It’s so cold out.”

“How long has your boy been missing, Mrs., ah, Post?” the dispatcher asked having performed a quick computer inquiry to identify the caller’s name and address from the phone number on the screen.

“Mrs. Freeman not Mrs. Post, I’m using her phone, Maxine’s phone, ah Maxine Post’s phone. We don’t have one. I’m not sure, since sometime before dark but he’s not missing, he’s lost. Duane looked for him but he can’t find him. He’s still out looking. I’m really scared.”

“I’ll notify the Sheriff’s Department to send a deputy Mrs. Freeman. I’m showing you’re calling from 5280 Tr-47 in Custer Highlands. If that’s not where you live, can you give me good directions to your house? Its hard to navigate in the dark and with snow falling, it might be even more difficult to find you.”

Custer Highlands was a ‘wanna-be real-estate development’ encompassing thousands of acres south of Highway 16 on the South Dakota-Wyoming border. Comprised of former ranch land the area was wild with its thick forests, rocky crags, steep ravines, canyons, bluffs and semi-arid grasslands. Lack of water and services to the area made it uninhabitable for anyone other than the few folks with plots along Highway 16. They’d paid to have electric and phone lines run. They also hauled their own water and graveled a road to their doors. Others had pulled-in trailers or built shacks farther into the wilds of this beautiful area, but they lived off the grid.

Veteran sheriff’s deputy Jim Davis and his rookie partner Deb Moore received a page to respond to a missing person call at 2340. Already in the Jewell Cave National Park area, they’d been assigned to continue to the caller’s address to investigate. They bounced over a snow covered two-track named trail #47 by the county in their effort to give every road upon which someone lived a name and each home an address. They passed by #5280 the site of an older model singlewide mobile home that was up on blocks and without skirting. “That’s where she called from,” Deb said as they passed by, “I’m surprised they have a phone.”

“Unhh,” Jim grunted in agreement while straining to see the rutted lane that was rapidly being covered by the newly falling snow. “Her place is supposed to be another mile down this cow path on the right. Watch for lights. Try to give me enough of a heads up to make the drive so I don’t have to back up. I won’t be able to see a thing behind us.”

“No drive,” Deb said as they neared their destination, “but there’s a shack with a lit window. That must be it.” Pulling off the rutted lane Jim parked the big SUV on pristine snow just to the side of a door in the dark exterior of the small, box-shaped, wooden structure. There was no porch or stoop in front of the door but it appeared to be the building’s entrance. A low-level orange glow flickered inside, dimly lighting the only window. Jim smelled wood smoke so guessed the light was made by a fire.

“I don’t think they have electricity,” he said, “This feels a little weird, cover me, just in case.” He made his way to the door of the shack, hand on the sidearm resting loose and ready in the holster at his hip. “You never know what you’ll find out here. Folks living in the middle of nowhere don’t like interference from the law, or from anyone for that matter. They’re normally here to get away from rules and regulations. They don’t welcome us sticking our noses in their business.”

“She called us,” Deb said.

“Yeah, but her husband didn’t.”

As it was, when he knocked on the door, a harried young woman opened it immediately. He thought she must have been standing behind it, waiting for them and when she ushered the deputies inside Jim saw the house consisted of only one big room, sparsely furnished with a threadbare sofa and chair pulled up near a wood stove made from an old, cracked oil drum that spilled broken streams of light into the area. Off in one corner he could see a tiny kitchen with a dilapidated stove and refrigerator, a few dishes exposed on shelves and a fiberglass laundry tub serving as a sink with a nearby counter holding a five-gallon container of water. A table and benches of rough sawn lumber served as a room divider. He wondered if the refrigerator held anything since he couldn’t hear a generator running. Must put food outside when it’s this cold, he thought. Other corners of the room were partitioned-off with cloth curtains, probably the bedrooms. A few toys were stuffed into a cardboard box near one curtain. Coats and hats hung on pegs by the door.

As he continued to survey the contents of the room, he noticed Deb was doing the same, her right hand hanging loosely beside the firearm on her hip. “I, I, I, we didn’t do anything wrong.” The nervous woman was rather frail looking, white as a sheet, and was shaking as she backed away from the deputies to sit on a bench by the table. Jim thought two uniformed officers bundled in coats and hats with full duty belts, guns and radios walking stiffly into her tiny house probably did seem to her as if she had been invaded by the Gestapo so he relaxed his stance and signaled Deb to so the same.

They gathered information from the frantic mother and asked her if she needed help for her family, from the food bank maybe, or from social services. “No, we’re all-right, I go to the food bank already and got the kids warm clothes from Goodwill. Things aren’t easy but we’re getting by. Duane tries to do things legal-like; he was brung up that way. He don’t poach but we need all the deer meat he can get so this year he took Davie out with him; that way they can get two deer during gun season.”

“Isn’t Davie a little young?” Jim asked.

“Yeah, but there’s a mentoring program, you know. A pa can take his kid out on the mentoring program. Davie made the age cut this year cause he turned ten. He can shoot any deer including a doe or young-un and the license is only five bucks. They’d been practicing shootin’ so’s Davie could hit one and if he didn’t Duane probably woulda just shot another but at least Davie went along and learned how and was there with his license. Duane says he got cold, Davie did. He just couldn’t stay out so his pa sent him back to the truck where there was blankets he could crawl under. Duane assumed he was there, staying warm, but when he went back after dark, Davie weren’t inside.

Its been getting colder and it started snowin’ soon after Davie headed back. Oh God, there’s mountain lions out there and he coulda fallen in the rocks and broke a leg. Duane’s still huntin’ him. He’s got Davie’s dog with him. I’d go hunt too but I can’t leave the baby alone. Are the searchers gonna look for Davie?”

Jim wanted to see where Davie normally slept and asked for a piece of clothing the boy had worn recently. “For the search dogs,” he said. That seemed to calm the woman.

“You’re gonna use dogs to look for ‘em? Oh that’s good, I’m so glad ya got dogs, they’ll find ‘em even in this snow. They can find his trail, right?”

“They’ll sure try, Mrs. Freeman,” Jim said quietly as the woman handed him a balled-up, faded shirt and Deb checked to see if, in fact, her daughter was in bed and her son was not. The deputies reported Davie a verified lost child by 0100 and requested that search and rescue be paged. Jim left Deb with Mrs. Freeman in case Davie or the husband showed up at home. Her instructions were to sit tight, monitor the radio and call if anything changed on her end. He drove back to Highway 16 to wait for search and rescue vehicles.


CHAPTER TWO:

Jana Stein and her husband were sound asleep when the pager wailed its undulating SAR call signal. Her husband, Dave, worked a day job to which he had an hour commute each morning so he answered very few pages though he did volunteer as a local fire fighter. He sleepily groused at the radio’s ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo, “That’s SAR, not Argyle Fire. You get to go out in the cold. I’ll feed the dogs in the morning if you’re not back before I leave.” An artist, Jana worked from a studio in her home. She owned, hiked with, and sledded several Alaskan malamutes and had a couple trained for search and rescue. A slender, leggy, forty-year-old blue-eyed blonde, hiking with her dogs served as her form of exercise and was her very favorite pastime. Even well-trained dogs like hers needed on-going ‘mock searches’ in order to retain their skills so she combined a hike with a trail for Sky to run and another outing as an air scent problem for Tahoe at least once a week.

“It sounds like there isn’t going to be a trail to follow for this little boy,” she said after listening to the information the dispatcher relayed over the radio. “It’s too cold for scent to stick to the ground and Custer Highlands has four new inches of snow. We should probably work a grid pattern from where he was last seen and have Tahoe search for his scent on the wind. I’ll take Sky too, just in case. Might as well be prepared.”

“And if he’s dead?” her husband asked. “With these temperatures it’s not unlikely.”

“I can’t think that way,” she replied. “I assume he’s alive until we prove otherwise, but Tahoe’s trained for human remains detection and Sky’s been coming along with her cadaver work. We’re good to go. See you later you lucky devil.”

Alaskan malamutes weren’t a common breed used for SAR work but Jana had owned several when she decided to get into search and rescue, so that’s who she’d trained. And they had excelled, besting the German sheppards and traditional SAR hunting dog breeds at the training seminars. Both dogs specialized in wilderness search and rescue. Broken ground, rocky crags, tall grass, wildlife, and in this case, extreme cold was not a problem for the malamutes. Tahoe had been successfully searching for three years. A big boy, he liked to work independently, casting for air currents that might carry scent, checking out dead spots, and if he crossed a track, he’d put his nose to ground and follow it directly. Plus, he wasn’t put off the smell of human remains like a lot of dogs. He liked finding people, pure and simple. He was never so happy as to be working in the wilderness with Jana. And he never missed. Tahoe would detect any person in an area he was searching and report their presence to Jana. You couldn’t hide if Tahoe was working the woods.

Sky was Tahoe’s two-year-old daughter. She worked with a harness and twenty-foot lead and was a trailing fiend. Give her a scent item, say go Find Em’ and she was off, nose to ground or nose at its normal cruising level if the scent was blowing up off the ground into the air. Jana often had to jog to keep up with her.


CHAPTER THREE:

SAR volunteers with trucks, trailers full of ATV’s, and a communications van met Jim Davis as he sat in his cruiser, lights flashing on Highway 16, west of Jewel Cave. They followed him to where Lisa Freeman had told him her husband parked his truck.

Lisa had relayed to the deputies what Duane had told her late last night. She said that while previously scouting the area he had found a small herd of mule deer frequenting a secluded draw and near-by, wind-scoured ridges. The clearing, surrounded by thick pines and large outcroppings of rock, prevented him from reaching it by vehicle so he and Davie had hiked in during the late afternoon wanting to be in place before the band’s usual ‘show time’ of dusk.

Twice before he’s seen a big five-by-five buck with seven or eight does accompanied by this and last year’s fawns, a spike buck and a good-sized two-by-two. Duane wanted the big guy. He meant more meat for the table.

Lisa had bundled Davie in virtually all the clothing the kid had with several pairs of pants, a long underwear top, shirt and sweatshirt under his jacket, a hat under his hood, gloves, and several pairs of socks in his still too big lace up, leather boots. It hadn’t been enough.

Duane had told her Davie’s fingers had gone numb as the temperature started dropping towards dusk. His dad had told him to put his hands under his armpits to warm them but he kept getting colder. He’d had to stamp his feet in order to feel them. Deer could hear someone stampin’ their feet a long ways off and the poor kids’ stiff fingers probably wouldn’t be able to pull a trigger anyway so Duane had told him to head back to the truck and take his gun with him. The snow started soon after Davie left.

Duane had then waited patiently, and silently, his own fingers growing numb when finally, the deer had moved into sight and then into range. The does nibbled bits of sage sticking up out of the snow. They bullied the young spike-horn when he got too close. One doe held her tail up while she grazed and the two-by-two sniffed her rear. She drove him away. Not ready yet, Duane had thought.

He waited, hoping the five-by-five would come into sight. Wasn’t he traveling with this herd tonight? Maybe he’d found a doe more ready for breeding in some other band. They needed the meat. He’d promised Lisa a buck tonight and the two-by-two was pretty big for his age so Duane had taken the shot. He’d rather have given the young buck more time to grow but nothing said the big boy would give himself to Duane’s gun this season. As the herd scattered he’d known he’d have to come back another day to fill Davie’s license.

Duane had quickly gutted the buck at the edge of the clearing, wrapped a rope around his rear legs, put a loop of the rope over his own shoulder and dragged the carcass back to the truck. He’d told Lisa he thought Davie must have been asleep since he didn’t see him peering out the window. He threw the buck into the back of the truck, opened the driver’s door, looked inside and – no Davie! The kid wasn’t there! Now what? How could he find him in the dark?

Grabbing a flashlight from behind the seat he’d turned it on to see if the batteries were still any good. It flickered, giving off a weak light. Better than nothing he’d thought and started back along the trail, this time calling Davie’s name as he scoured the area for a fallen body. The snow had already almost completely covered his deer-drag trail.

Prayin’ wasn’t something he did often but he prayed as he backtracked, “Lord, he’s just a little boy, never hurt no-one. Please keep him safe. Help me find ‘em, Lord.”

At 2300 hours he drove home, got Lisa and the baby out of bed, and took her to a neighbor’s to place a 211 call. Once done, he drove them back home to wait for the Sheriff, got Davie’s dog and a lantern and went back out to search for his son.


CHAPTER FOUR:

“We’ve got two persons out there with guns,” the Incident Commander, one of the most experienced SAR volunteers, told his search teams before deploying the canine unit. “We don’t know where either of them are right now. The boy left the area of the deer kill, heading back here, and is assumed lost. The father is probably hunting for his son in the same area you will be searching. It’s still dark so they won’t be able to see you until you’re right on top of them and vice versa.

Jana and Tahoe have the best chance of finding them since the dog can use his nose. He can also warn Jana someone’s out there before she runs into him. Mike you flank her. Its going to be hard to see the dog in the dark so help her watch for any indication that he has scent, that he’s found a track, found gear belonging to one of them, anything.

Give us a direction of travel if possible so we can deploy other teams. We’ll wait here with the Stokes stretcher and bring it as close to you as possible with ATV’s once you find someone. Custer Ambulance has been called. They’re staging on Highway 16.”

Jana and Mike donned headlamps and their backpacks, Jana’s full of medical gear since she was a licensed Wilderness Emergency Medical Technician in addition to being a search dog handler. Mike, thiry-five, tall, strong and trained as a flanker, carried the rest of the team’s gear. The type of search, time of year, terrain being traversed and other variables dictated the kind and amount of gear needed. Today he was carrying water, maps, a GPS unit, flagging materials, a radio, a space blanket and a wool blanket, climbing gear, flares, and extra batteries.

Mike and Jana both possessed concealed weapon permits and sometimes they carried handguns, but not for this search. Guns were mainly to protect them from wild animals. Today their big search dog would also serve that purpose. Tahoe wore his day-glow orange SAR vest and two battery-Pac lights, one hanging off his vest and one attached to his collar. It was always hoped a victim or others in the area would see the big, dark-colored, big-coated, wolfie-looking-dog and realize because he wore a vest that he was there to help - not eat them.

Tahoe didn’t normally track animals. In fact he had been trained to not ‘critter’ or be distracted by rabbits, squirrels or spooked deer. In spite of this, Jana knew he would search for whatever scent she asked him to find. She needed to get him to where Duane had killed the buck before they could begin searching for the boy so she cut a bit of fleshy hide from the deer’s belly-slit, held it out for Tahoe to smell, pointed to the ground and said, “Find the trail, Tahoe.”

Tahoe sniffed the piece of deer hide, walked to the back of the truck and while standing on his hind legs, put his forefeet on the tailgate and nosed the deer’s body. Jana tried again, taking him farther away from the vehicle in the direction they thought Duane might have traveled. This time when asked to find the trail, Tahoe sniffed the ground and then pawed at it, digging snow away until he uncovered blood and bits of deer flesh and hair.

“We’ve got the drag trail,” Mike hollered. “We’ll follow this out to the kill site. I’ll flag it as we go.” Mike set his GPS unit to log their track. A mile later Tahoe stopped at the edge of a small clearing and pawed. Shining a flashlight at the ground near Tahoe’s feet Mike called to Janna, “Gut pile” then radioed in a GPS reading. If others needed to reach this spot, they could plug the GPS coordinates into their units, perform a Go To command and each unit would display a little map and trail to follow.

“Now what?” Mike asked Jana once he’d pushed a metal wire with a plastic flag attached to it’s top into the frozen pile of innards.

“Now comes the hard part. We look for the needle in the haystack.” She told Tahoe how good he was for having found the hunting spot and re-scented him with the boy’s shirt. “Find Davie, Tahoe,” she told him, “find em’ boy.”

She started walking back the way they had come trying to see the landscape through the boy’s eyes. It would have been getting dark when he started back to the truck. He had been very cold. His nose had probably been running. His feet were probably numb. Had he stumbled? Had he lost his way as he kept his head down and wiped his nose often, trying to keep his face warm and away from the blowing snow? What would have been the easiest path for him to follow? Would the terrain have pushed him in a certain direction?

Would he have possibly made it just so far back along the trail until the snow obliterated it and it got too dark to see where he was going? She explained her line of thinking to Mike and both of them searched the landscape for any sign the boy had passed that way.

Tahoe ranged, looping first one way and then another, nose to the air, searching first for wind and then for the boy’s scent on the wind. He never went so far that Jana couldn’t see the flashing light on his harness. About halfway back to the truck they entered an area where young pines grew thick among large outcroppings of rock on both sides of the trail. “This would be tough in the dark,” Mike said. “Even staying on this deer trail, he would have had to push his way through these small trees. He could have gotten turned around.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Jana turned in a circle, studying the terrain around her as her headlamp illuminated it. “Look, here’s a depression, like a water drainage that runs off to the south. If he’d tripped in this low spot or if the trees closed in around him and he got disoriented, he might have followed it. The trees aren’t actually growing in it and it’s not full of big rocks like the rest of this area, so it would have been easier to walk this direction.”

“Good thinking,” Mike said and looking up noticed Tahoe had moved off ahead of them, down the depression. He was sniffing in and around the young thick-growing pines, called ‘dog hair trees’ because they stood up from the ground, straight, close and stiff, like a dog’s coat. “Dog hair trees hold scent don’t they? Haven’t you told me that over and over again? If I remember right you’ve said they can confuse the dog because they concentrate the scent in the area instead of letting it flow like it does over open ground. Is that maybe why Tahoe has his nose down and is sniffing around each little tree?”

“Could be,” Jana said. “His behavior tells me he has something. Let’s get a little closer to where he is. Maybe we’ll see something.” Tahoe kept working the stand of ‘dog hair’, going back and forth on both sides of the depression, circling in and among the trees. Suddenly he came to a spot where a good-sized pine had fallen across the little ditch. He leapt the log, put nose to ground, turned back around, put his front feet up onto the log and stared straight at Jana. “He’s got something,” she said. “Stay Tahoe!”

She and Mike jogged to the tree, climbed over it and looked at the ground where Tahoe was now sitting. His pawing had unearthed a rifle. Kneeling by the gun, Mike said, “It’s the model listed on the fact sheet. It’s the boy’s gun. I’ll call it in.”

“Good boy, Tahoe,” Jana told her dog and while hugging him reached into her pocket for a treat. “Good find, boy.”

“Let’s go Mike,” she said once he’d taken his GPS reading, flagged the spot and called the info in to IC. “We’ve got to find this boy. If he dropped the rifle here, he had to be cold and disoriented. He may not have made it a lot farther. Let’s go Tahoe, let’s find Davie.” She was gratified to see Tahoe put his nose to the ground and move down the depression.
“I think he’s got a trail. I think because the depression forms a little ‘V’ it’s holding some of the boy’s scent. We might just be getting lucky.”


CHAPTER FIVE:

Tahoe traveled the depression for another quarter of a mile and then lifting his head he turned to the west, into the breeze and sniffed. He appeared to be studying an area of broken ground where huge granite spires shot up out of the pine trees and grass creating a swirling effect of wind currents and eddies. “Tahoe’s working too far away for me to always see him for alerts,” Jana said to Mike. “I think he’s got a scent pool but it’s going to be tricky, the ground is so broken-up with so many huge outcroppings of rock, crevices and little caves. The scent will be hanging in every depression and gone from every wind-blown spot. He has to find this boy with the wind-blown scent only. He seems to be working from here to the north and back. You go closer to where he’s turning back each loop and I’ll stay at this end. That way, we can both see half the ground he covers and not miss anything.”

“Got it,” Mike said, “Jana, tune your radio to the SAR channel so we can talk to each other without screaming over the wind. We’re getting close so it’ll be good for those back at base camp to hear what we’re seeing, too.”

“Ok, what’s your number Mike?”

“Rescue 27.”

“I’m Rescue 30.” Jana stood watching Tahoe work as Mike headed off to her right, disappearing into the pines. “SAR IC, Rescue 30,” she keyed the mike. “Go ahead 30,” came the response.

“We’ve got a scent pool. I’m working one side of Tahoe’s loop; Rescue 27’s got the other side. We can’t see each other but we can both see Tahoe.”

“Roger that. What’s your GPS reading, Rescue 30? We’ve been studying the map and think we can follow a drainage to get close to you with ATV’s and the Stokes.”

“I don’t have my GPS Unit on, my attention is on Tahoe, Rescue 27, have you got the reading?”

“Rescue 27 here, the reading is . . . Jana, call Tahoe quick, I see a man up ahead, in the trees, pointing a rifle at him.”

A shrill double blast of a whistle sounded over all the radios and Tahoe turned to respond to Jana’s call, then leapt into the air at a dead run to her, just as the rifle fired. Mike saw snow spurt up off the ground right where Tahoe had been standing. Everyone with a radio heard the shot and then another. “Don’t shoot!” Mike yelled at the shadow-man in the trees. That’s a search dog! We’re looking for a little lost boy!” Then another rifle report carried over the airways and Mike groaned, “I’m hit. That last shot got me.”

“Mike!” Jana yelled into the radio forgetting to be calm, forgetting to identify him as Rescue 27, “How bad are you hit? I’m going to make my way through the trees over to you with the medical kit.”

“Rescue 30, don’t move!” yelled the Incident Commander. “Both of you take cover.”

“You got Tahoe, Jana?” Mike said, his mouth close to the radio, his voice, just a whisper, was filled with pain.

“I do,” she answered quietly. He could tell by the breathless quality of her voice that she was coming to him, probably at a crouch, probably while she held on to Tahoe’s collar.

“Incident Command, this is Rescue 27, we need a sheriff’s deputy out here and the Stokes, I can see this guy coming my way, looking for me, my position is . . .” and he quietly gave them the GPS coordinates.

“They’re on their way Rescue 27. They shouldn’t be more than fifteen minutes out. Stay under cover, both of you,” IC barked over the airwaves.

“Lost boy?” the shadow croaked as he searched through the trees for the voice he’d heard. “What lost boy? I didn’t mean to shoot at you. I was shooting at a wolf. My boy’s lost and I thought the wolf was after him. I turned when you yelled and the gun went off. . .”
“Are you Duane Freeman?” Mike yelled back at the man.

“I’m looking for Davie Freeman,” the man answered, his voice shaky and hoarse, and then Mike heard, “Woof, woof!”

Jana appeared at Mike’s side with Tahoe in tow and whispered, “I think that’s Mr. Freeman and the dog. Should we try to talk him in? How bad are you hit Mike? Where are you hit?”

“The bullet just nicked my upper arm, it tore my coat, see, here,” Mike groaned as he rolled over onto his left side. He’d hit the ground behind a large log just after the bullet grazed him and had landed on his injured right arm. Jana took out her knife and sliced Mike’s coat and flannel shirt sleeve just enough to inspect and then clean the bullet wound with an antiseptic wipe she pulled out of its foil pack.

“You’re right. You’re lucky Mike, its small. I’ll tape a quick dressing on it and you’ll be good to go for now.”

“You folks looking for my boy?” The man stood no more than twenty feet away, holding the rifle in the crook of his arm, pointed at the ground. “That’s a dog you say, not a wolf? He’s with you?”

“Yes, Mr. Freeman,” Jana said. “If you’ll put down your rifle, I’m going to stand up and come to you. We’re looking for your son. This is my search dog, Tahoe. He was on your boy’s scent when you shot at him. We think Davie’s near by.”

The man sank to the ground, his rifle falling into the snow beside him. Jana stood up and still holding onto Tahoe’s collar approached him. A yellow lab was lying in the snow near by. He looked like a young dog and was smaller than Tahoe, smaller even than Sky. The dog laid his head on his paws and whined as she approached. “It’s ok boy,” she soothed, “just take it easy Mr. Freeman, we’re here to help.”

Jana had just finishing checking Mr. Freeman’s vital signs and was calling them in to the ambulance along with Mike’s when Jim Davis and three SAR volunteers came into sight riding two ATV’s, one pulling the Stokes. Freeman was showing signs of hypothermia. He was shivering violently; had cold and visibly pale-clammy skin, and his clothes were wet clear through to the skin and were frozen.

“Before we’re done, we’re going to need three ambulances,” she told the deputy.

“I can get checked out under my own power,” Mike said, “I don’t need an ambulance. Besides, I want to wait and find the boy.”

“You shouldn’t keep searching with that wound, Mike. If you’re sloshing around out here, it will bleed more. At least wait at IC till we’re back in. Deputy, do you have to handcuff him to the Stokes?” she asked when she saw Jim attaching Duane’s left arm to the stretcher.

“It’s a judgment call,” he answered, but yes, I think I should. “He has already shot at your dog, shot at and hit Mike and is irrational. I’ve called in another unit to pick up deputy Moore and bring her from the man’s home to ride back with the ambulance for security. She’ll stay at the hospital with him. I’ll take him out to the ambulance and then will come back, hopefully for the boy.” Almost as an afterthought, the deputy leaned down and picked up the little dog cowering at his feet. He placed him on the Stokes between Freeman’s feet and put part of the blanket over him. The poor little guy was shivering as badly as Freeman.


CHAPTER SIX:

As the ATV’s disappeared into the now graying distance, Jana turned to Paul, a fellow searcher staying behind to take Mike’s place on the canine team. “Ok then, this is what we’re doing. . .” Paul stayed near the log so he could watch the north end of Tahoe’s loop. Jana went back to her previous location and commanded Tahoe to “Find Em” re-scenting him from Davie’s t-shirt. Tahoe had not forgotten who he was looking for.

He resumed his looping pattern, climbing up onto outcroppings of rock, walking into depressions and crawling into caves trying to find exactly where the boy’s scent was coming from. He made his way up into a tumble of rocks; then checked out an open area of needle-covered, snow-dusted, wind-scoured ground, and then another tumble of rocks and then another. He was no longer traveling back and forth, looping across the landscape. He had narrowed his search to a specific area.

“He’s got it,” Jana radioed Paul, ”He’s narrowing the scent pool. The boy is in those rocks somewhere. Call it in. I’m going up there to help him find Davie.”

It was treacherous going, slick and uneven. She slipped on snow-slick granite more than once as she hauled herself up, sometimes on hands and knees, until she got to where Tahoe stood. He couldn’t go any farther. He was a huge dog and the rock crevice he was looking into was too narrow for his body. Peering into the dark little cave between the rocks Jana could see small feet and skinny, jeans-clad legs. “Found him, Paul! I can’t get to him. We’re going to have to grab his ankles and pull him out.”

Paul hurried to where Janna and Tahoe sat in the snow, pulled off his pack, knelt at the entrance to the small cave and by shoving his right shoulder into the crevice as far as he could was just able to reach one of the boy’s ankles. He pulled on it until he could get both legs. Jana quickly grabbed the boy’s shoulders as they appeared. Together they laid the still little body on a flat rock and Jana performed a brief exam. She found a rapid and weak, thready pulse.

“He’s alive,” she said to Paul and grinned. “He’s alive, good find Tahoe, good find.” The boy’s skin was cold and white. His clothes were stiff were ice. He was past shivering. She couldn’t feel a pulse in his ankles or wrists but that wasn’t a surprise. His body was shutting down, pulling all of its blood into his torso to keep his heart and other organs going.

They quickly cleared a spot free of snow, put a space blanket covered by a wool blanket on the ground, then gently placed the boy on top of both, flat on his back. “He’s almost gone,” she said. “I’ve got to get the ice off him and start rapid warming of his torso to keep his heart, lungs and organs going. I can’t actively warm his extremities until his core is re-warmed. I have no doubt his arms and legs have ice crystals in the blood. I don’t want to move him much or get the blood moving in his extremities or we can send an ice crystal to his heart. Help me get his boots, gloves and socks off.”

She wrapped the boy’s icy, pale feet and hands in parts of the blanket then opened his coat, cut the sweatshirt and opened the shirt to get to the thermal top. Breaking open heat packs she placed them on top of the thermals under his armpits, next to his ribs on both sides of his torso, and on top of his chest. Then she rewrapped him in his shirts and coat, tucked the wool blanket tightly around him covering all but his face and added one more space blanket to keep the cold air out.

She motioned for Tahoe to lie on the boy’s lower legs and feet. “He’ll help keep his feet from getting any colder,” she said. “We can hope he hasn’t gotten any frostbite but I wouldn’t bet on it. Tahoe won’t warm him so fast to be dangerous but that big, furry body of his will block the wind and slowly start thawing his lower limbs. I’ll keep monitoring him till he gets to the ambulance.

“They’ll never get ATV’s in this far. They’ll have to carry the Stokes in,” Paul said. “I’ll go out and meet them. Do you need more wool blankets? Want me to radio-in any other instructions?”

“I’ll radio the Ambulance with his vitals. They may want to warm water for an IV. He might be ready for warm fluids by the time he gets to them. I’ve no doubt he’s dehydrated on top of being almost frozen.”

Jana and Paul rode out with the ATV’s. Two extra volunteers had driven rigs in so they’d both have transportation. Tahoe ran beside Jana’s ride. He was just too big to fit on an ATV. He would have been bounced off the Stokes if he’d ridden with the boy. Mike was happy to see the boy come out alive and hugged both Tahoe and Jana. “Good job,” he told them. “He’s alive, that’s amazing.”

Once Davie and deputy Davis had left IC on their way to the ambulance, search staff packed up the equipment they’d hauled to the site; then made the long drive back to the SAR garage. As they cleaned and stowed gear, Jana put Tahoe into his crate, let Sky out to relieve herself and fed and watered both dogs. Then she drove to the emergency room at the hospital to check on Davie. Two of the paramedics from the ambulance were still there. Having not received any other calls to take them back out on the road they’d stayed at the hospital to help the bare bones staff provide emergency medicine for the boy until a doctor arrived.

“Good job re-warming,” the head paramedic told Jana when they passed each other in the hall. Doc’s here now so we’re leaving. His organs were a short time from shutting down. He’s still unconscious. They’ll be keeping him and watching him as they continue to warm him up. Once he’s stable he’ll be transferred up to Rapid Regional for ongoing care.”


CHAPTER SEVEN:

Two weeks later deputies Davis and Moore walked into the December monthly search and rescue staff meeting. “I’m sure you all know Davie Freeman is back home with his family,” Jim said as he debriefed twenty-two SAR volunteers. “He didn’t lose any digits though they’re still monitoring the little fingers on both hands. The many layers of clothing helped keep him alive and it was lucky he was lying with his hands tucked in against his body.

Mr. Freeman was charged with the reckless discharge of a firearm, and the incident will show on his record but he’s been released on time served since he has a clean record and the State’s Attorney thought the extenuating circumstances merited leniency. It’s also not illegal in this county to shoot at a loose dog, even if that dog was searching for his son.”

“We all feel for the family,” he continued. “They’re going through a rough patch right now. Due to spending his time either in the hospital with his son or in lockup, Mr. Freeman hasn’t had time to hunt and he also lost his part-time job.”

“That’s tough,” someone said. Others around the table murmured in agreement. Jana shook her head in sympathy. Can’t win for losing, she thought.

“You might have heard of our ‘road-kill program’ where the county picks up freshly dead, vehicle-killed-deer, has them butchered and then delivered to needy families in the area. We had an accident last week involving a large cow elk. We’re going to deliver that meat to the Freeman family along with the other fixings for Thanksgiving Dinner. Plus, we’ve taken up a collection at the Sheriff’s Department for some new and better outdoor clothing for the family. Custer Ambulance contributed. I thought you guys might want to pass the hat, too.”

“I’ll help deliver everything if that’s okay,” Jana spoke up. “I’d like to take Tahoe out, too. Its not often he gets to see victims he’s helped find after they’ve recovered. I think he’d like that.”

“Yeah, me too,” Mike said, “you know I think that little kid might like to meet Tahoe. It’s not every day you have a big, warm wolf-dog save your life you know.”

“He’s not a wolf,” Jana groused good-naturedly, insulted as always when someone called Tahoe a wolf dog, “He’s a registered Alaskan Malamute, a show champion, a sled dog and my good hiking companion; he’s not a wolf.” The team laughed. It was always easy to get Jana’s goat, just insult her dog.

“Hey, they’ve got a foot of snow out there in Custer Highlands,” someone else said. “We can fire up the Snow Cat and get in some driving practice. Its big enough to carry the loot, several of us, and Tahoe.”



<f<font;30pt>FALLEN<</font>


MISSING, PRESUMED LOST

-- Two teenage boys from the local high school. Believed to be snowboarding in the Cedar Ridge Area.


Team Lady was searching the snow covered, icy trail closing in one of the areas the boys’ parents said they often frequented. The team’s namesake, little golden haired, part retriever Lady was working the wind coming up over the cliff’s edge. As she sniffed around and through granite spires, checked crevices and raised her nose to catch wind currents, Emily followed close behind her watching for any change in her posture, any clue that she might have found the boys’ scent.

Normally Lady would work the wind or follow a trail right to the missing person then return to ‘tell’ Emily she had ‘found em’. Em would say ‘show me’ and Lady would race back to the victim with Em right behind her. Today the ground was too treacherous for the dog to be racing anywhere plus the possibility was great the boys had gone over the edge of the cliff. Em didn’t want Lady sliding into the abyss of the canyon below in her enthusiasm to find them
.
The third member of the team, Matthew was working as the flanker in charge of radio communications with the search coordinator. He used a map, compass and a GPS or Global Positioning System unit to record their progress and mark Lady’s ‘finds’ where she indicated she had sign of the boys’ passage. He carried the pack with their rescue gear and medical supplies freeing Em up to move quickly behind the search dog. Matt and Emily had been working together as a canine search and rescue team for a little over a year.

Em, long legged and slim with raven hair and sky blue eyes, had picked the little golden pup out of many in line to be euthanized that weekend at the local dog pound. She had promised herself a pup since early summer but hadn’t found time to make the trip. She hated going to the pound anyway. Even if she took one little dog home with her, there would be so many left behind.

She had seen the little look-alike to her namesake, the star of the Walt Disney movie, Lady and the Tramp, and had fallen in love. Then, as the pup grew into a juvenile Em discovered she had a talent for sniffing out people in hiding, anytime, anywhere. Em read some books about canine search and rescue, joined an international SAR dog group, and took Lady to training seminars. By the time she was one year old she was an internationally certified, area search, air scent dog.

Emily and Matt were already fellow search and rescue team members when Em started training Lady. Every good canine team contains a dog handler, a trained search dog and a team flanker. Matt had been interested in the tough, raven haired beauty for awhile so when she started bringing the twenty pound mutt to meetings with her, he decided one way to get on her good side was to volunteer to be her flanker.

The following year involved lots of training, many searches, some finds and a growing relationship between Matt and Em. He loved Emily. She told him daily that she loved him too, right after she hugged and expressed her undying affection to her dog. That was all right. He had no problem coming in second to the pooch; particularly not to one who was a search and rescue whiz kid, finding every lost person she had been sent out to locate.

They had been a team for a year. He planned to celebrate their anniversary as a SAR-Dog team by asking Em to marry him. He had reservations Saturday night for dinner at her favorite restaurant. Today he walked behind Emily and Lady up the slippery trail, following the dog’s progress, recording where they had searched and what they had found or not found, and communicating with base on a regular basis. Other foot (not canine) teams were searching neighboring parts of this treacherous but popular area of steep slopes and dangerous cliffs.

The ragged, rocky terrain prevented ongoing radio communications so leaving Em and Lady while they were taking a water break; he crawled up a slick spire to get a minimal signal for their mandatory two-hour radio check. “Team Lady to Base,” he said into the radio. “Nothing yet. We don’t have any signal here unless I climb rocks and they’re covered in ice and a little slippery. Our GPS position is,” and he gave them the latitude and longitudinal readings for their current location.

Returning to his team, he was crossing a smooth, downward sloping, ice-covered granite slab when he heard Em shout. Looking up, he saw Lady’s nose raise and turn into a gust at the cliff’s edge. Spurting out of Em’s hands, she scrabbled her way across the ice, claws digging for what purchase she could find as she jumped and barked-out her glee at finding scent.

“Lady, no, stop,” Em shouted and with arms outstretched slid on the slick ice after the dog. Five feet from Em when Lady disappeared over the edge clawing desperately for purchase, he threw himself onto the ice trying to reach far enough to grab some part of her and stop her slide. He almost had her foot when she went over, screaming “Lady, God Lady, no.” He went after them; weight and momentum carrying him even farther down the slope.

Time stopped. For all of them, time stopped as each slammed into rocks and ice, crumpled where they fell and slipped into unconsciousness.

Damn, Matthew thought as he dragged himself up the steep incline handhold by handhold. If this had happened ten minutes earlier, we’d have missed our radio check and a team would be on its way to find us. Damn, I can’t hear Emily or Lady. I don’t know if Emily’s okay.

Matthew knew what his fellow searchers would see when they found him. He felt for them. It was gonna be a bad deal seeing the ragged blood trail he created as he dragged his damaged body up to Emily. The tourniquet he’d dug out of his med pack and applied above his fractured femur had slowed down the spurting blood but he had continued to bleed in a steady flow. Matthew could feel himself going, getting cold and weak. His heart was racing, limbs were leaden; god all he wanted to do was curl up and die. Soon enough for that, had to get to Emily first.

He’d been airborne when he passed them lying crumpled on a ledge. Trying to halt his downward momentum he’d grabbed at rocks and scraggly trees once he’d hit the slope and started sliding. Then he’d slammed into that damn rock wall and, snap, he felt his leg twist, his bones break. Crap! If he’d stayed in one place he might have lasted till searchers could find him. Nah, it’d be hours before Base even knew they were in trouble. He would have bled out by then for sure. Now in just a few more feet he’d reach the ledge and Emily.

Em lay on her back holding the limp little body to her chest. “Lady, my little Lady,” she cried, tears rolling over her numb cheeks to freeze in her hairline. Her baby; her Lady. Why had she ever asked the little dog to risk her life trying to save others? Why had she put both their lives on the line? Now Lady had lost hers and Em thought she might soon follow.

She couldn’t move. Her legs and feet were numb. And, she was so cold. She wasn’t dressed warm enough to lie still in below zero temperatures, exposed as she was to the wind and cold ground. She wore ski pants and a ski jacket, clothes for easy movement in cold weather. She could barely feel her fingers. She hoped her arms would freeze in place so she wouldn’t let go of Lady when she passed out again.

Lady’s head lolled to one side. Luckily she wouldn’t have felt her neck break, would never have suffered. Em had not been as fortunate. She’d hit huge rocks on the way down, first cracking her head open and then slamming into a jagged spire with her back. Her head was bleeding. She had one hell of a headache. She could not feel nor use her legs. Like Matthew she was a trained emergency medical technician. She knew the signs of spinal trauma. She was lucky to still have the use of her arms or she couldn’t have pulled the little dog over to lie on top of her. She couldn’t get to Matthew who had fallen past her, farther down the slope, and she couldn’t hear him. She hoped he was okay.

“Em--y,” a soft, broken voice whispered not far from her. Turning her head towards the edge of the shelf, she saw his navy SAR cap become visible. Then his beautiful brown eyes, dull with pain, looked at her.

“Matthew, are you ok?”

“Bleed-ing bad, busted femur,” he said, speech slurred, “sorry.” His eyes closed, his head slumped, and he slid out of sight.

“Matthew,” she called again and again. He didn’t answer. Oh God, Matthew was gone too. She’d never get to marry him. She knew he had been going to ask her this weekend, she just knew it. “I love you Matthew,” she whispered, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for you to fall. I couldn’t let Lady go without trying to catch her. Too slippery. Should have known you’d try to grab me. Didn’t think. Just wanted to help Lady.”

Could she use her arms? Could she still drag herself and Lady over to Matthew so she could touch them both? Concentrating hard, she used her shoulders and arms to push herself over onto her belly. Then she reached back and grabbed Lady and pulled her up beside her.

Little by little over the next hour, she moved across the ledge, pulling Lady with her. Finally she reached the edge and could see the top of Matthew’s head. Pulling herself all the way to where she lay right on the knife-edge of the drop-off, she pulled Lady onto her chest again and then reached a hand down to rest on top of Matt’s cap.

She was cold now and very tired. Pulling herself across the ledge by her elbows had used up all of her reserves. Even her arms were heavy. She didn’t think she would be able to move them again. Twitching the fingers on the hand holding onto Lady’s fur she found she could still pet the little dog. She closed her eyes and slept.

Something startled her awake. She opened her eyes and tried to see what had caused the noise. Could only see the darkening sky above. Straining to look down her torso she could just make out the tip of Lady’s head and her golden hair. Though she could no longer turn her head to see him, she knew Matthew was to her right over the edge of the shelf. She couldn’t feel the hand touching his hat, or her arm for that matter, but she hadn’t moved them. She still held on to him. Silence. Nothing else here.

She drifted in and out of sleep, in and out of consciousness. When she was awake she tried to remember all the good times she, Lady and Matthew had shared. She remembered one time in the break room after a particularly gruesome retrieval of victims’ bodies. They’d tried to think of all the good ways someone could die. We did it she realized and smiled. She thought she smiled. Not sure the muscles in her face worked anymore.

Best way to die, she checked off the list in her mind - a broken neck, instant. Lady won. Second - bleed out quickly, jugular, aorta or femoral artery. Matthew got second place. And she took third; freeze to death. In second and third place you just went to sleep, her way just being slower than Matthew’s
.
We did it Matthew. If we had to go out, at least we did it well. They can use us for examples now.

The last time Emily opened her eyes they were just slits in her frozen face. It was twilight. No one had found them yet. Soon, they’d have to call off the teams. It was too dangerous to be out in the slippery, treacherous terrain with just a headlamp’s beam lighting the way. Too bad Lady was lying dead, here with her. Lady could have tracked them, could have found them. No other dogs. The team needed more dogs.

Not coming in time, were her last thoughts; bye Matthew, bye Lady, see you both again soon.

Search teams found them the next morning. They had hoped their missing team had holed up in a cave somewhere, unable to call out but safe from harm. A windstorm had moved in over night preventing them from finding their missing friends. At first light they had made their way out to the last GPS coordinates Matt had called in, seen their slide marks over the cliff and had known their friends were not coming back.

Finding the blood trail from where Matthew had dragged himself up the slope to Emily and the drag marks where Em had pulled herself and Lady over to Matt, they understood the love this team had shared for each other. Because of this they broke the county’s rules that stated no more than one body could be put in a grave. The rules neglected to state how many could be put into a casket.

One of the team members was a carpenter. He built a wider than normal box out of nice, finished oak and they laid Matt and Em in it, side by side facing each other. Between them they curled the little dog. On the tombstone they all chipped in to buy they had carved, Team Lady - Matthew Stone, Emily Jones and a fantastic little search dog named Lady.

FIRE<</font>

CHAPTER ONE:

Jana pulled into the access road of the Cattail Point Peninsula in Custer State Park. A thumb-shaped protrusion into Stockade Lake, the forty-acre hump of broken, uplifted granite was sparsely covered in Ponderosa Pine, wild flowers and fine, tall summer grasses growing along the water’s edge. The peninsula’s three miles of shoreline boasted the best crappie and brown trout fishing in the area.

She could see Mike, Charlie and Cristi’s vehicles off to one side of the small gravel parking area. Her three friends were standing near Charlie’s park truck. They weren’t here to fish today. She had JJ, a young husky-malamute mix search and rescue dog in the van with her. She knew Cristi had her SAR dog, Blaze in her Subaru.

“Hey guys,” she said, “what’ve we got today?” Jana, the most experienced dog handler on the Custer County Search and Rescue team, normally took the lead in any canine-assisted search. Cristi had served as her flanker and fellow trainer until she purchased and began training her own young dog, a Belgian Tervuren. At that point Mike had taken over as Jana’s flanker. Charlie, a new addition to the search team had volunteered to flank Cristi and Blaze and had been working with her for thirty days. Cristi stepped forward to answer Jana’s question.

“You gonna take point?” Jana asked with a smile. She was glad Cristi felt ready to take a lead role. This would be the first time she and Blaze led a search.

“I am,” Cristi answered. “Mike was first on scene so he gathered our victim data.” Charlie’s park radio interrupted with static; then a female dispatcher’s voice came over the airwaves: “10-18, buffalo vs. car, wildlife loop north of bison pens, buffalo won. Need officers to respond.” Everyone but Charlie smiled. The buffalo almost always walked away, supposedly unharmed, from a car-buffalo or motorcycle-buffalo accident whereas the vehicle driver often didn’t. It lightened the tone of a call just a little when the dispatcher called the fight in the bison’s favor.

“Sorry, someone else will get that,” Charlie said and reached to turn the radio to ‘vibrate only’ until he was back on duty. “Didn’t mean to interrupt Cristi.”

“No problem,” she responded, “we’ve got two adult male victims, missing. That’s their truck parked right over there,” she pointed at a navy, diesel, 4x4 parked in the trees near the lakeshore. “They were supposed to be fishing off the rocks near the water’s edge in this area. They didn’t call their wives or come home for lunch. A boater questioned by park security staff said he heard a commotion at the lake’s edge when he was fishing off shore this morning. He looked over at the rocks and didn’t see anyone. That doesn’t mean the commotion he heard was our missing guys but there’s a chance it was.”

“The two men might have taken the same route when they left the truck or they might have split up. We won’t know what they did until the dogs find a trail for each man. Since JJ is the good at starts (finding the trail from the victim’s scent), I thought you should have her get a scent from the passenger’s side of the truck first.

Once she has her track, I’ll lay a gauze square on the driver’s seat and then scent Blaze off that. If she follows you guys we know the men took the same route. If she heads in a different direction, we have two trails. That sound ok?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Jana said. “I’ll get JJ ready while you get our gear Mike. Cristi, I think you can lay your gauze on the seat while JJ scents the passenger side. It won’t bother her if you do that and it’ll get you and Blaze going faster.” Jana left Cristi and Charlie to handle the gear for their team. As a member of law enforcement for Custer State Park, Charlie was involved in many of the lost person cases in the park and was well acquainted with the gear he’d need while on a search. As a flanker in a dog team he also carried the dog handler’s gear.

Trailing dogs like JJ and Blaze worked fast, often at a trot. SAR dog handlers had their hands full managing a twenty foot long line attached to the dog’s harness, watching the dog’s body posture for ‘tells’ or indications that the canine has or does not have a trail, directing the dog when it loses scent or gets into a situation it’s not sure how to handle, and generally trying to watch the ground so they didn’t trip over debris as they move quickly through all kinds of terrain. Jana and Cristi were both emergency medical technicians in addition to being canine handlers so each carried a small bag of medical gear strapped snugly to their lower backs. Any more than that would just be in the way as they scrambled through brush or into and out of rock crevices following their dog.

“Sounds good,” Charlie and Cristi said at the same time. Cristi retrieved a sterile, 4x4 gauze square from her medical kit and placed it on top of the driver’s seat. Skin cells and oils sloughed from the driver’s body would be lying on the truck seat and would adhere to the gauze. It was shed skin cells a dog followed when it had a trail. It took about three minutes for the gauze to soak up enough scent for Blaze to detect.

Jana opened the passenger side door and told JJ to “Check it.” The lithe, black and white female jumped up into the truck, sniffed the passenger seat deeply, jumped back out and started sniffing the ground to discover where the man had walked when he left the truck. In just a moment Jana had clipped her line to the back of JJ’s harness and was following her towards the lake shore, Mike flanking them and carrying the pack and the communications equipment.

“I love to watch her do that,” Cristi told Charlie, a big grin on her face. “It’s like giving a kid a cookie. Finding the trail is JJ’s cookie.”

Blaze had tremendous drive, more than JJ really. Once she had a scent she was totally focused on following it until she found her person. She tried to do this at a full run so Cristi wore leather gloves, hung on tight and held the little dynamo to a speed she could follow.

To stay in shape Cristi worked out and ran several times a week. Luckily she had been in track as a teenager and had never lost the habit of running cross-country. Sometimes when Blaze was dragging her over rough ground, and particularly when she was climbing rock outcroppings straight up and then running straight down, Cristi almost wished she worked with a dog that didn’t travel at high speed; a bloodhound would be good.

Once Cristi gave Blaze the gauze square to smell, she put her nose to the ground near the driver’s door, zigzagged across the hard surface of the gravel parking lot towards the center of the peninsula, and then just as she hit grass and pine needles at the lot’s edge, she took off like a bat out of hell. “She’s got it,” Cristi said and they were off. Good thing Charlie worked out regularly too or she and Blaze would be leaving him in the dust.

“You want to take a short water break when we get to the top of this ridge?” Charlie asked after a quarter mile of straight up the rocks trailing at Blaze’s cruising speed. Cristi nodded, unable to fill her lungs sufficiently to speak. “You know some dogs would have a problem finding a scent in these rocks. I’m amazed she not only finds the trail but can follow it at this speed.”

“Just the little bit of soil and pine needles is enough ground cover to hold a scent for her nose,” Cristi said pulling on Blaze’s line a little to slow her to a walk as they climbed a particularly steep spot. “I’m always impressed. It’s almost like she was made for the kind of terrain we have in the Black Hills.”

Charlie knew he was supposed to help Cristi watch Blaze as she worked. The flanker was another pair of eyes to pick up on subtle nuances of the dog’s behavior on a tough trail. In this kind of terrain, however, the most he could accomplish was to stay right at Cristi’s back. He was impressed she was athletic enough to maintain a constant speed behind Blaze.

Just as he was wondering if this straight uphill climb wasn’t tiring her out, she stumbled and fell to her hands and knees, toppling over against a large rock. Fearing she might let go of Blaze, he reached around her and grabbed the dog’s lead out of her hand. “Stop Blaze,” he commanded and pulled her to a halt as he knelt by Cristi’s side. Blaze obediently stopped and then seeing her mistress on the ground, ran back to check on her welfare.

“Are you okay?” Charlie asked as he knelt beside Cristi. Her eyes were closed. He wasn’t sure she was breathing. He was just about to lay her flat on the ground and check for breath and a pulse when she opened her eyes and turned herself around to sit on the ground with Blaze in her lap.

“Water would be good,” she said, rubbing her forehead as if it hurt. Charlie got the collapsible dish out of the pack and poured Blaze a little water. Then he got a bottle out to share with Cristi. “What happened just now?” he asked.

“I had a vision,” she murmured, still rubbing her forehead. “I hate it when that happens. You think if I was going to see this guy in my head, I could have done it in the parking lot before I was running behind Blaze over broken ground.”

“What’d you see?”

“Just his face, or I assume it’s the truck driver’s face since he’s the one I’m trailing so I have a connection to him. I just got a flash of his face, eyes closed, lying in water with greenish light playing over his skin. It looked like he was just below the surface in weeds or something that disrupted the light and also caused ripples in the water.”

“Blaze has been virtually dragging you over these ridges towards the lake’s edge. She’s got a strong trail. I’ve been down to the water on the other side of these rock ledges; the lake shore is lined with cattails right there.” Cristi nodded, her eyes unfocused as she tried to reconnect with the man.

“I can’t get him again.” She wiped the sweat off her brow with a cloth Charlie handed her. “Radio Jana and see if she’s found the passenger yet.”

“JJ’s is getting close to finding her man. Jana says she’s really pulling now, like she does at the end of a trail when she’s got a strong victim-scent. She says they’ve been tracking along the lakeshore. They’ve been slowed down because the breeze flowing down over the rocks towards the water’s edge keeps blowing the scent into the water. JJ’s been stopping often to check the water’s edge. They’re closing in on a stand of cattails.”

“All-right, let’s go then. Both of our guys must be in the water by those cattails since that’s where we’re headed, too. We don’t want them to beat us. Pack the water and catch us. Let’s go Blaze.”

The little dynamo didn’t need any encouragement. She leapt to her feet, put her nose to the ground and raced over the broken ridge of granite and then down the other side. Cristi had to either hold Blaze back going down the slope or possibly fall and break her own neck. Ok, she thought and she held tight to the line, next time a little less enthusiasm on my part.

She and Blaze reached the large stand of cattails coming at it down a steep granite slope, just as JJ dragged Jana along the last fifty feet of lakeshore towards the water weeds. The dogs converged within ten feet of each other. JJ walked back and forth along the lake’s edge, biting at the water, jumping in a foot and then immediately out again. Blaze walked into the water up to her belly and began searching among the cattails. “Ya think they might be in there?” Jana asked with a big smile on her face.

“Dogs think so, we gonna have to get wet to find these guys?” Cristi said. “Hey, Charlie, you got waders with you? I don’t really want to walk in there. Mike got any waders, Jana?”

Mike began tossing pebbles into the cattails. After the fourth one plunked with a splash, two men erupted straight into the air spraying water over both dogs. They would have gotten Jana and Cristi wet too if they hadn’t quickly backpedaled away from the lake’s edge. The men were outfitted in wetsuits and full scuba gear. “That water’s cold,” one of them said after wading through the cattails to reach the rocky shore. “You think it would have warmed up by late July.”

“Stockade Lake is never warm,” Cristi said. “I don’t know how kids can swim in it but some of them do. The beach over there always has a crowd in the summer.” They all turned and looked across the lake at the small sand beach with its group of fifteen to twenty people, sunning on the sand or playing in the water.

“Better for fishing,” Mike said as he handed both divers a towel he’d carried in his pack just for that purpose.

“Yeah, some of those fishies were nibbling at me,” Cristi’s victim said. “It made it hard to be still and not make waves. I wanted to reach out and grab a few.”

“Thanks for coming guys,” Jana told the two men, both members of a dive team that practiced and stood ready to assist when needed at Angostura lake, a much bigger body of water southwest of Hot Springs that boasted 36 miles of sandy beach, four campgrounds, year round fishing and tons of boating opportunities for tourists and locals alike.

“No problem,” one of the men said reaching down to scratch JJ and Blaze. “Your little pooches are pretty amazing. “We’ll have to remember to call you next time we have someone lost in our area.”

“That was pretty cool, Mike” Jana said as the two teams walked back towards their vehicles, the dogs now loose and running ahead of them, playing along the shore in the water. “I’ve worked dogs along water before but have never had volunteers to hide submerged for me.”

‘Yeah, thanks for setting that up Mike,” Cristi said. “I had no clue my guy was going to be in the water until right at the end. That was fun.”

“Hey, you guys want to get together for a beer later?” Charlie asked his fellow searchers as they loaded gear into Jana and Cristi’s vehicles.

“Maybe Friday night,” Jana said. “Dave doesn’t get home till late these days. I know he loves working in Deadwood but the drive is killing him, what with all the summer tourist traffic clogging the roads.”

“Yeah, I could get Mattie to come out too after she’s off at the hospital,” Mike said. “Friday night would be good. How about dinner and drinks, say at seven? We could come down your way this time Jana and meet at the Hitchrail Bar and Restaurant in Pringle. That’d be half way for Cristi too since she has to come up from Hot Springs.”

Cristi felt her skin warm when Charlie ran his hand gently down her upper arm and then laid it on top of her hand now holding Blaze on a short lead. “See you later kiddo,” he said. “Lunch time’s over, got to get back to work.” He climbed into the red Custer State Park pickup and drove off with a wave.

She could feel Jana’s eyes on her and looked over to catch her friend’s smile. She and Charlie had just lately become an item. Married and divorced she hadn’t planned on getting married ever again, and maybe she still wouldn’t, but she was enjoying her budding relationship with this interesting, caring and gentle man. Jana walked over as Mike drove away.

Wrapping her arms around her friend Janna said, “I’m glad you and Charlie have found each other. You make a good team and deserve to be happy. So, did you get a reading on your guy while you were trailing or was Blaze working alone this time?”

“I did connect with him, just a flash, nothing prolonged but I could see he was alive and in the water.”

“Good, keep yourself open when you get a vision. I know it’s uncomfortable and a little scary for you but your ability might really come in handy some day.”

“I know,” she answered. “I wish I could practice so I can control what I see. Today, if we were only going on the clue that he was in the water, he could have been in any lake or creek in the area. It might have taken us forever to zero in on his location and then he might have died.”

“It’s never that simple or that hard,” Jana said. “We always know something about a lost person. We know the area where he was last seen, or where his car was left, or at least we might know he was in Custer State Park versus at the Bismark Lake Recreation Area. That would narrow our search area a little. Every tip or clue helps us. We should never be dependent only upon your sight. You know, I think that maybe the more you follow your insights the better you might get at being able to use them.”

“Well, I’ve got to get back and knuckle down.” Jana was an artist selling her work throughout the hills. “The galleries are asking for new pieces. I’ve got enough made but if I don’t get things delivered, I won’t sell anything and then I don’t get paid. Have you got appointments lined up today?”

“I do,” Cristi answered. “I’ve got a new client with MS coming at two and then later a client with cancer that I’ve been seeing for several months. I’m working with both as part of their long-term, pain management programs. I’ve been using a combination of massage and energy work with both of them.”

Jana could hear the excitement in her friend’s voice when she talked about her work. “Is what you’re doing able to help them? You like working with sick people?”

“It is. I like helping people cope with serious illness and treating specific injuries. Most massage therapists in town give general relaxation massages. I’ll tell you that’s a lot easier on the arms and hands but I like the challenge of personalizing treatments. I’ve got a man coming in this week for back pain management, a client with lupus, one with sciatic nerve pain and one with frozen shoulder issues.”

“Wow, you’re all over the place, Cristi. They’re lucky they have you to come to. Ah, speaking of injuries and shoulder problems, JJ just about pulled my arm out of the socket today. My shoulder the malamutes dislocated during sled training a year ago bothers me more each time I do a trail with her. I think I need to make an appointment to come see you too.”


CHAPTER TWO:

As Cristi drove home, south on Highway 385 through the Wind Cave National Park, thinking about Charlie’s grey eyes and crooked smile, she noticed the park’s bison were thinner than a week ago when she’d noticed the herd grazing near the road. It was so dry; the grass was non-existent, short, brown and brittle already. I hope the mom’s have milk for their calves through weaning time, she thought. Hopefully the national park feeds them hay through the winter in drought years like Custer State Park does their herd.

This was the fourth year of serious drought for the Black Hills and surrounding areas. All campfires were banned, even in the state and federal parks where campers used approved fire rings. Charlie spent a lot of his time patrolling campgrounds and ticketing violators. He and every other security officer, ranger and camp host in the park also watched the skies for smoke as they worked. Jana watched as she walked and worked her dogs.

Everyone was on edge, listening to the weather, praying for rain, waiting for the page to fight a big one. They hadn’t had a big one now in several years but every firefighter knew the time was coming. Jana and Cristi knew they might be called out to help get hikers out of the forests and off the trails if a big one started up in the Harney Peak or Black Elk Wilderness areas. Both of these heavily visited areas easily saw 50 or more people a day on their trails during the peak summer tourist months.

Cristi so did not want to put Blaze in the way of a fire. She loved her smart, funny, and very dedicated little friend as much as any parent loved her child. It was hard, always hard to send Blaze into a rock slide, to consider working with sheriff’s deputies in trailing an armed subject, or to think of going into an area filled with smoke and flames, looking for hikers in the path of the fire.

She wasn’t sure she would answer the page if the big one hit and they were looking for dogs to assist in locating people. Was it really worth risking Blaze’s life?

Wednesday morning the phone rang at 0500 hours. Gus was lying by Cristi’s feet. Blaze had worked her way up from the foot of the bed to lay with her head on the pillow next to Cristi’s sometime during the night. She yelped as Cristi lunged for the phone in the dark, squishing the little bed hog beneath her body. “Sorry,” Cristi mumbled, “Sorry. Hello,” she croaked groggily into the phone.

“Sorry to wake you Cristi but I’m heading to the Pine Ridge Reservation. They’ve had eighteen known lightening strikes in the past three hours. If you can believe it, the storm that’s just gone through even had twisters. Two houses and a mobile home were ripped to shreds with the people still in them.

They’ve called firefighters from all over, even got the Hotshots from Custer and the Black Hats from Rapid. It’s a mess. Those lightening strikes have almost all resulted in fires starting right where the strike occurred. It’s so dry; the fires are instantaneous.”

“Jana, slow down,” Cristi moaned. “It’s five in the morning. I’m not awake. You going to Pine Ridge to fight fires?”

“No, not fight fires, look for people. They’ve called the dogs in from Martin to search the rubble for survivors. A group of kids were camping overnight in the badlands right where several of the fires have started. They need more dogs to find the kids and get them out.”

“You want me to come with Blaze,” Cristi asked hoping the answer was no.

"No, you need to stay there in case something happens on our home turf. I’ve been called in with both JJ and Sky to help look for victims and Dave’s is even heading over with Argyle fire. You know its bad when fires take precedence over his going to work.”

“Custer County’s got another big storm coming in from Wyoming. It may also hit the northern part of Fall River County. We’ve been listening to the national weather report on the scanner all night. Right now Fall River and southern Custer County are under a fire weather watch with red flag conditions.

Some of our local fire fighters are staying behind on severity watch for our own counties. The storm coming in has dry lightening, high winds and hot temperatures. It’s almost a hundred degrees in Hanna, Wyoming right now and they’ve got fires in the Laramie Mountains. That’s supposed to hit us later today. You need to stay there in case they need you since I’m not going to be available.”

“Jana, I don’t know if I can go if there’s a fire. I’m afraid of fire; you know that. I don’t want to put Blaze in a situation where she might get seriously hurt.”

“Let Charlie know I’m gone, Cristi. He and Mike are both volunteer fire fighters for Custer. Either or both of them will help if you get called in. They know enough about fire to keep you and Blaze safe.” Cristi knew this was true. Even though Mike worked as a member of the blasting team carving the Crazy Horse Mountain Monument and Charlie was full time law enforcement for the park, either one or both of them would drop everything for a fire or search and rescue page.

Most services in the Black Hills were provided on a volunteer basis. Without paid fire, rescue and even rural medical services, volunteers like Cristi or any of her friends trained at their own expense, carried pagers full-time, and ran when the hills or its people were in danger.

“Either Charlie or Mike will flank you if you need them. They’ll be there for you and I’ll be back as soon as I get done on the reservation. You can do it. I’m counting on you.”

“Cristi, I need to go now. Dave’s got my van loaded. We’re going to caravan down with the fire trucks. I may need you to feed the horses and dogs I’m leaving behind if I don’t make it back for chores.”

“What if there’s a fire by you?”

“We’ve got the horse trailer and truck hooked up, ready to load horses, and the dog trailer can be pulled by one of the neighbors’ vehicles. They’re watching our place. If we’re threatened, they’ll get the animals out. I’ve got to depend on you, Cristi. You going to be ok?”

“I am, I can handle it. If they need me, I’ll go. I’ll start scanning all channels now so I hear if there’s a page in either county.”

Cristi got out of bed after the call, loaded Blaze and her buddy, JJ’s husky-mal mix brother Gus, into her all-wheel-drive Subaru and headed for the nearby recreation area for their morning run. She had her first client at 0900, plenty of time to exercise the dogs, eat breakfast, take a shower, pack her search and rescue gear just in case it was needed, and still get her treatment room ready before he arrived.

At 0600 she heard Custer County dispatch report a fire in the Bismark Lake and Bob Marshall Campground area north of Stockade Lake. Oh no, she thought. The national forest service land in that area was Jana and her favorite place to train dogs. Not only was the area drop dead gorgeous with its towering pines, broken granite landscapes and picturesque lakes, it was a training area to die for.

Because of the ever changing terrain and vegetation, the abrupt drops or rises in elevation and the swirling breezes, it was a killer of a place for a dog to find and follow scent. Jana always said if a dog is able to find a lost person in the wild, rocky landscapes of the central hills, the dog is capable of succeeding anywhere. A fire will ruin that beautiful area, she thought. I hope they get it under control quickly.

At 0830 as she readied her treatment room for her first client, she left her radio/pager on her desk in the outer office area.

Her sixty-year-old client had been in a head-on collision eight months ago and was still undergoing physical therapy at the hospital. Both of his legs had been pinned in the twisted vehicle. He’d suffered whiplash and his limbs and torso had been covered in contusions and lacerations.

As his muscles healed, they had tightened in spite of the stretching and exercise routine physical therapy had him performing on a daily basis. Cristi had been working to relax his muscles and to break up adhesions preventing his muscles from stretching properly for several weeks. She was working on his body’s pressure points and also was running energy through his body. Her energy cleared out blockages that kept his body’s energy from flowing properly. It also stimulated blood flow and promoted healing.

He was doing well. She was at the point where she could feel her energy running almost freely through his tissues, realigning his energy to do the same.

She was halfway through the session when the radio started wailing its piercing ooo-ooo-ooo-ooo, undulating Custer SAR page. She’d have to let it go and check in with dispatch after she finished. “You need to get that?” her client asked, his voice muffled due to the fact he was lying face down against a padded donut that cradled his head.

“No, it’s not necessarily for me. That’s a general page. I’ll check on it when I’m done.”

She had just sent the client on his way when her cell phone rang. Flicking the phone open she saw Charlie’s number in the display and answered, “Hi there, what’s up?”

“We need you Cristi,” he said. “We’ve got a big one, in the park, and we’ve got a lost kid in the vicinity. Jana’s working Pine Ridge so you and Blaze are our only hope of finding this little girl.”


CHAPTER THREE:

“Oh God Charlie, I’m terrified of working Blaze anywhere near a wildfire. You know it’s a bad situation to put a dog into and the smoke clogs their nasal passages so they can’t smell anyway. I can help you try and find the little girl but can you assure me it will be safe for Blaze?”

“Christi, none of us can ever assure anything but we can do everything in our power to keep a scene safe for the dog and her handler. I’ll be right there with you and Custer County SAR has been called in so I think we’ll have Mike and Denny too. They are both used to working with Jana and her dogs and know exactly what to do. Between the three of us and you, Cristi, you’re no slouch with your own rescue skills, you know.

Anyway, between the three of us we are all trained in wildfire behavior, we’ll have gear for high angle cliff work, we are all in shape and can keep up with that road runner of a dog you have and we’ve all taken classes with you in lost person behavior. I think we’ll make a pretty good team and we might just be able to find this little girl and get her out alive.”

“I’ll come just as soon as I can, Charlie.” Turning him down was not something she was prepared to do. Just the sound of his voice telling her she was needed made her want to drop everything and go to him. He was willing to put himself in the path of a fire for her. She could do no less for him.

I can do this, she told herself. To him she said, “I’ll have to reschedule my clients. I’ll go home, load Blaze and take Gus to the neighbors. I’ll call you back when I’m on the road. You can fill me in as I drive.”

Once on Highway 385 heading north through the Wind Cave National Park towards Custer she called Charlie back. “We’ve been working on a case the last twenty four hours,” he said. “We’ve got the Custer County Sheriff’s Department and Park Security both involved and they’re talking about bringing in the feds.”

“What on earth?” she interrupted.

“Just let me tell you. I shouldn’t really be doing this. Information is being given out on a need to know basis but I think, with your special ability, you might be able to help if you know the whole story.”

“What’s so special you need me over anybody else?”

“Last night park security received a call to respond to the Grace Coolidge campground. A man in a black van had abducted a six-year-old girl off the playground. Her parents had sent her to play under the supervision of a ten-year-old brother. The brother saw the van drive by several times and then realized his sister was no longer on the swings where he’d seen her just a moment before. He ran to the swings and was told by other children that a man had picked her up and put her in the van. He’d had his hand over her mouth.”

“Oh no,” Cristi said. She could imagine the little girl’s terror and the boy’s anguish.

“There are so many people around that play area, you think he wouldn’t have had the nerve to grab a child, but he did and he got out of the area without anyone stopping him. The boy’s parents told the camp host who immediately called 211 emergency dispatch. Dispatch alerted the county sheriff. The host also paged park security. I was off so wasn’t involved in the first part of this case. I’m telling you the information I was given in this morning’s briefing.”

“The ten-year-old brother was able to provide a description of the van. He’d noticed a white line drawing of a mad wolf riding a motorcycle on the van’s rear window as it made several of its passes past the playground. He said it stood out against the black of the darkened windows. He also noticed the direction the van traveled when it left the area.”

“Just a minute, Charlie,” she interrupted. He heard the screech of brakes being applied heavily, tires sliding on slick blacktop, then nothing. He waited. He could do nothing but wait. In a minute her voice came back over the cell phone, “I feel sick. I’ll be back.”
“Are you okay, Cristi?” Charlie asked. When she didn’t answer, his voice got louder.

"Cristi, where are you? Are you okay?” He could hear Blaze whining in the back seat. What on earth, had she had a seizure or something, a vision? He could hear murmuring; her voice, low and shaky, was saying, “It’s okay sweetie, I’m all right now.”

“Charlie,” she said a minute later, still sounding fragile and a bit overwhelmed. She wiped her forehead and took a couple of deep breaths. “That was close Charlie.”

“What, what happened?”

“I almost ran off the road. You were talking about the van and all of a sudden I saw a black van right in front of me or I thought it was right in front of me. I slammed on the brakes and swerved so I wouldn’t hit it but the road in front of me was clear. I almost ran off the road into the middle of the prairie dog town. I think quite a few prairie dogs ran for cover when I swerved right for their burrows.”

“I know it’s not funny but, really, it was kind of humorous, if you could have seen me headed for the side of the road and the prairie dogs scampering out of my way. I pulled over. I’m not sure if I passed out for a moment but I got light-headed and dizzy. I’m okay now.”

“You saw a van that wasn’t there? Was it a vision?”

“I’m pretty sure it was. Ahh, you said the van had a wolf riding a motorcycle on its back window. The right back window, right? Did it also have one of those white line-drawings of a little boy peeing in the grass on the other window?”

“It did. Did you just see that?

“I did. That’s good, right? Maybe I’ve got some kind of connection to this guy or maybe to the little girl if she was in the van.”
“Do you feel any connection?”

“I don’t, not right now. Maybe I’ll get more later but I hope it isn’t while I’m driving. What were you telling me before I interrupted? The guy drove away with the little girl and the authorities were alerted, then what?”

“Park staff set up roadblocks trying to steer him onto Highway 16, heading to Custer. They weren’t sure if he’d gotten off on a dirt road or not. They kept closing roads down but none of us saw the van. Sheriff’s deputies shut down all exits from Hwy. 16 in and around Custer, and were waiting in the town itself. We also had deputies and highway patrol officers driving the roads in the park looking for the van.”

“Finally about 0500 this morning, I was back at work by then having been called in to help look for this guy, we were figuring he must have gotten away from us when one of the sheriff’s deputies returning to Custer saw the van sitting in the dirt parking lot of that little restaurant/camping place just outside the park. You know the place with all the old covered wagon bodies set in a circle?”

“Wagons West?” she said.

“Yup, the deputy went inside and he was sitting in there, at a table, alone, drinking coffee and eating breakfast. The guy was stupid. He left the van sitting with its tail-end toward the road.”

“Lucky for us.”

“Yes, lucky for us. The Sheriff took him into custody and has been interrogating him ever since. The only thing they can get out of him is that he “got rid of” the girl down some back lane in the pines.”

“Do they know if he hurt her, or if she’s still alive?”

“They don’t know anything yet but they’re working on it. When you get here you might be able to help us. I have her pajamas and a stuffed animal she sleeps with. The clothes will give Blaze her scent if we can find a trail but I thought they also might retain a little of her aura or energy. I thought, you know, maybe you’d get a feeling for where she is or what she’s seeing. You’ve done it before.”

“Oh Charlie. I know you want to find her. So do I, but we can’t count on anything from me. Can’t you get them to do something to this guy, offer him a deal or whatever, so he’ll tell us where he dropped her?”

“I’m not in charge of interrogation, Christi. I’m only in charge of looking for the little girl. We’ve got a fire in the Bismark Lake/Bob Marshall/Stockade Lake area. We didn’t have a storm last night so we’re thinking this fire was man-started. We think it started in the woods between the drive into Bismark Lake and the drive in to Bob Marshall. We are staging on the beach at Stockade Lake so you can find me there.”

Christi visualized the area in her mind as she drove. Bismark Lake was a federal recreation area. It had a nice campground in the pines overlooking the southern half of the kidney-shaped, man-made lake. When one walked along the rocky shores of Bismark Lake, they were treading upon the timeworn heart of the hills. Granite, once uplifted and then eroded over eons of time gave way to bits of soil and plant debris. In this marginal soil settling between the soaring cliffs, pines, grasses and wildflowers grew. It was a wild and rough area befitting national forest status.

Camp Bob Marshall was actually a little settlement of log cabins inhabited by Boy Scout troupes several times a year. A lodge, dining hall, bath buildings, counselor cabins and sleeping cabins for the campers were lined along a dirt road that ran through the middle of the encampment right down to the lake’s northern shore. This was also federal forestland and butted up against Custer State Park Forest.

Christi valued these areas not only for their sheer beauty and the joy she felt each time she walked among sixty-five million year old granite spires, but also for the sheer diversity contained in a small area. At either site she could train using water, cattails, wooden walkways, swamp along the creek that fed the lake, camp sites, cabins/buildings, forestlands, grass lands and then the huge, tumbled rocks, ledges and cliffs the dogs seemed to love.

Both of these federal sites were located on the north side of Highway 16, just across from Stockade Lake with its beautiful secluded campgrounds, boat launches, beach, hiking trails and heavily treed ridges and draws. The entrance to Cattail Point Peninsula where she had been training on Monday was directly across from and between the two camp access roads.

Now as she turned east out of Custer she could see the column of black smoke climbing into the heavens. The trees in this beautiful area were burning. How could someone have deliberately set out to destroy something so precious?

They’re connected, she thought. The deranged man who stole a little six-year-old girl and then dumped her someplace in the middle of a wilderness where no one could find her could easily have started a fire to cover his tracks.

Keying her radio while she drove she reached Charlie and asked if this couldn’t be a possibility. “We’re thinking that way too,” he told her. “You’ll be here in a few minutes. We can discuss it then. We’re wondering if he didn’t drive way back into one of these areas, dump the little girl, then set the fire on the way out. It’s a problem because both roads are impassible due to fire and smoke. If she’s near either of those roads, we can’t get to her.”


CHAPTER FOUR:

As Christi neared the Stockade Lake Campground entrance, a Highway Patrol Officer stopped her telling her she’d have to turn around in the campground and return to Custer. “Road’s closed, Ma’am,” he told her.

“I’m with search and rescue,” she said and showed him her ID. “I’m the canine unit or, we (she pointed over her shoulder to Blaze who was trying to stick her head out the window and say hi to the officer) are the canine unit. I’m supposed to go on up to the staging area.”

The officer radioed Incident Command, verified that she was expected and instructed her to proceed slowly. Driving through thick smoke and falling embers she dodged fire trucks and fire fighters. She heard a helicopter overhead and looked out the window to see it descend and then hover while it filled the bucket hanging below it with water out of Stockade Lake.

Fire trucks were parked on the beach. The SAR communications van was set up with its big antenna extended to the sky. SAR vehicles were parked near the comm. van. They’re all waiting to go in, she thought. They need some direction to take so they can look for this little girl.

Several white canopies sat near the outhouses directly across from the comm. van. As she pulled in she could see firefighters and sheriffs deputies pouring over maps and talking on radios. That would be Incident Command. One of the Custer’s Ambulances was parked next to another canopy. Under it Para-medics checked out firefighters for damage from smoke inhalation and burned or singed skin.

Charlie must have heard her getting cleared through the road checkpoint because he was waiting on the beach and directed her to a parking spot next to the other SAR vehicles. He pulled her into his arms the minute she stepped out of the Subaru. “I’m freaking out, Charlie,” she said, her words muffled as she pressed her face into his chest.

“I know you are. Working around a fire can be scary.”

“And dangerous, I don’t want Blaze hurt, can you guarantee me Blaze won’t be hurt doing this?”

“I can’t ever guarantee that. Remember Jana’s Tahoe fell off a cliff while on a search and hurt his back. Blaze loves to trail. Are you going to keep her from doing what she’s so good at because you’re afraid? She’s not afraid, Cristi. I’ll be with you. If it would make you feel better we’ll take Mike with us too. He’s just standing around with the other search people right now waiting for a target area.”

“Did you tell them you want me to try to connect with this little girl in my mind, Charlie?”

“I would never do that to you, babe. That’s our secret. No one but Jana, Mike, you and I know you have that ability. None of us would ever violate your privacy.”

“What if I can’t see her Charlie? What if I’m useless? You know I can’t control it.”

“Hey, now, none of that useless stuff,” he growled and held her tighter. “If you can see something, it might help. If you can’t, we’ve lost nothing. We’re just trying to help this little girl. It’s not our fault if we can’t help her but it’s pretty amazing stuff if we can.”

“Ok, let’s get with it, let me try,” she said, pulling away from his chest while wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’m ok now and I’m ready.”

Charlie handed her a plastic bag containing the pajamas and teddy bear. “Her name is Janie,” he said. “Here’s a picture of her.” The picture showed a tiny little toe-headed girl in pink pajamas, curled up on a sofa, holding the teddy bear as she slept. Oh boy, she thought, Janie, honey, we have to find you. I’m going to try real hard to see you in my mind. You need to try to find me too.

Cristi took the plastic bag in her arms and sat cross-legged on the ground, leaning her back against the driver’s side tire of the wine-colored Subaru. Charlie folded his long, lean body and lowered himself to the ground, blocking her from the view of passersby. She closed her eyes, gathered her energy to form a bright, glowing sphere of yellow light in her center and then pushed that energy out through her arms and hands into the pajamas and teddy bear. Her center of energy continued to move upward, to her heart, into her head and collected just behind her eyes ready to be used. Opening her eyes part way she left her gaze unfocused and looked at the heart of the teddy bear. Concentrating on seeing with all parts of her eyes, she pulled the most light in through her peripheral vision. Being less damaged from the bright daylight of every day use than other areas of the retina, it was best for focusing on auras.

After a few minutes she closed her eyes and could see a faint bluish-pink glow around the shape of a teddy bear. It faded after a couple of seconds. “She’s a special little girl,” she whispered. I see light pink and light blue meaning she’s normally happy, and pure, loving and sensitive. The teddy bear retains a little of the energy she gave off when she held it. This man’s rough treatment of her could send her little mind into a catatonic state. If that’s happened already she’ll be balled up somewhere she felt safe when she collapsed and will never hear us searching for her.”

“Can you see her at all,” he asked. “I haven’t tried yet,” she replied. “Do you have anything from the abductor?” Charlie held out another bag containing a baseball cap. She shook her head repulsed by the dark energy radiating off the hat but concentrated on it anyway and was sent into instant shock and darkness. She came to feeling a hand gently touching her shoulder, a soft voice whispering, “Cristi, you’re ok, baby, come back to me.”

“ I saw log cabins with trees and rocks behind them and the shine of water off to the side, then fire, lots of fire! Bob Marshall, Charlie, he was at Bob Marshall. It was him that set the fire. Can we get in there with a vehicle? Is it all engulfed in fire? Is it too late?”


CHAPTER FIVE:

Charlie checked with the SAR commander by radio to see if the road to the Boy Scout camp was engulfed in fire and was told that parts of it was. He couldn’t ask Cristi to risk herself and Blaze by driving through fire. That would terrify her. He asked about the road to the Bismark Lake day area. If that was clear they could climb the huge granite rocks and plateaus to reach the cabins from the rear.

That road was also partially engulfed but they could get in across the dam at the south end of Bismark Lake, take the foot trails past the campground to the day area and then climb the rock bluffs to traverse another mile of plateau and rock cliffs to the back of the cabins.

“I’ve got Cristi and her dog here,” he told his commander. “No one has checked those cabins in the Boy Scout Camp. If Smith was the one who set this fire, he might have driven in there and dropped her off on a dirt road or even in the camp area itself. Or she might have fled the fire and ran into the camp area. We won’t know unless we check. We’re going in over the dam to come at the cabins the back way. You want to send any other teams with us?”

“That’s dangerous,” the Incident Commander said upon hearing the search team’s plans. “Right now the wind is coming out of the west keeping the fire out of the Boy Scout area but if the fire starts swirling in the treetops or if we get any kind of downburst or change of wind, they could be engulfed in a second.”

“Once we’re at the cabins, we can run down to the lake if we have to,” Charlie said. “We’ve got a window here to check those cabins. We have to try.”

“Is this based on something Cristi’s said,” the SAR commander asked. “Let’s just say it’s a hunch,” Charlie replied. “Can I get another team with a portable stretcher, just in case and maybe someone can bring in a medical bag with some oxygen?” “You got it,” the commander replied.

Mike came running over with the medical bag and the portable, basically rolled-up plastic with handles, stretcher. I’ve got Denny with me. We’re in on this Charlie, Cristi,” he said and nodded to her, his form of a hello.

By now Cristi had gotten Blaze out of the vehicle. She’d watered her and let her relieve herself. She packed Blaze’s harness and long lead along with several bottles of water into her waist pack. Charlie had her emergency medical bag in his pack.

The two teams of searchers jumped into a SAR pickup, drove up to where Cristi had been stopped on the road, and pulled off into the grassy drive bordering a little (water release formed) turtle pond at the foot of the dam. With radios set to monitor goings-on with the fire they climbed the two-hundred-foot, straight-up dam, then ran along its top to the campground and down foot trails along the lake to the day area. From there they started the serious work of climbing the two apartment building-sized granite boulder ridges, separated by a grassy plateau, that formed the barrier between the Bismark Lake recreation area and the Bob Marshall Boy Scout Camp.

The camp area was full of acrid smoke making it hard to see. They had to duck into a cabin as the helicopter dumped water on the fire side of the camp. “They’re going to keep doing that while we’re here,” Mike said. “They’re giving us every chance they can to get in and out of here safely.

Cristi shuddered. The fire was maybe a quarter mile away. Luckily the land sloped uphill from the lake to the ridge where the fire was roaring. Fire liked to travel uphill. They had a bit of a safe buffer zone between the camp and the inferno since the fire had already run up the first ridge, leaving scorched ground behind it. Supposedly fire did not turn around and cross the ground it had already burned.

“These cabins are locked,” Denny said. “Try to get a window open in each one so we can get inside to search them. I guess if we can’t do that we either have to kick the doors open or bust windows. These bigger buildings have several rooms. We need to get inside to check each room, under and on beds and in the bathrooms. I’ll start with this one; let’s do each building in pairs so no one’s alone. Charlie, you and Cristi take cabin #2. We’ll work our way down the hill and then out to the lake.”

They cleared cabin after cabin. There were five old log buildings with four bunks each at the top of the ridge. A grassy lane led from them to the main grouping of buildings. On the way down the lane, they passed and checked the lodge or meeting hall. In this building they went room-to-room and even checked a raised stage with curtains. Cristi hoped these buildings didn’t burn. They were made of huge old tree trunks, hand-planed, fitted wood floors and each contained large wooden tables and wooden-slat folding chairs leaning against the walls. If the fire did enter the Boy Scout camp the place would go up in an instant.

As they continued down the hill they checked a tool shed, eight more cabins, the shower and restroom facility, a group recreation hall and the dining hall. The dining hall was fronted by a raised wood log-railed, wood planking floored deck, enclosed underneath from the ground up to the deck flooring with piled stones from the area. Blaze started whining as Cristi climbed the stone steps to the deck proper.

“What is it girl?” Blaze whined again and started pulling her back down the steps. Cristi followed her knowing she might smell something that the rest of them would never see. Blaze pulled her around to the back edge of the stonewall closing in the space under the deck. There was a hole here - big enough for someone to crawl through. Blaze wanted to crawl into the darkness; Cristi didn’t want her to. She hollered at Charlie who ran over and kneeling at her side, shined a flashlight beam into the area.

“Oh God, we’ve got kids here, a boy and a girl. They’re half naked with bare feet.” Cristi started to crawl through the hole on her hands and knees but Charlie stopped her with a hand on her arm. “I can reach them,” he said. “They’re both small. I can safely pull each one of them out by their ankles; then you can check them.”

Once they were out and lying on their backs, Cristi performed a rapid exam on each. “They’re both alive,” she said. “Both have cool, clammy skin and are dehydrated. They’ve got rapid, irregular heartbeats. The girl’s is harder to hear than the boys. I can’t get a good blood pressure reading on either.”

“They’re in pretty bad shape, Charlie. We need to get both of them to the hospital, ASAP. Will one of you guys call it in? I don’t know if they’re light enough for you to haul them both out in one stretcher or not but maybe you can start them that way while more guys walk in with another stretcher.

Charlie, these kids have been abused. They have new bruises on top of old bruises. They’re both got ligature marks on their wrists and ankles; the little boy looks like he’s been beaten with a belt or something similar. The little girl’s mouth is torn; see how her lips are cracked and bloody like they’ve been forced wide open. I’ll bet you this Smith guy had these two kids awhile and just dumped them here when he dropped off Janie. If he knew you guys were chasing him and shutting down roads, he probably got rid of them so you’d never know he’d taken more than one child.”

Charlie nodded in agreement, “These two probably crawled under here, probably couldn’t make it any farther. We haven’t found Janie so I’m guessing she might have run off somewhere. He’d just taken her so she was probably in better shape, more mobile and probably scared out of her mind.”

“Can you get anything on her from the teddy bear, Cristi?”

“I’ll try.” As she moved off to sit on the steps of the deck, the bagged teddy bear and pajamas in her lap, Mike and Denny wrapped each small child in a blanket. Mike was in continual communication with the IC. Blaze lay at her side. Other search and rescue personnel and one of the Custer Ambulance Para-Medics were already racing to them with another stretcher and enough people to carry the two children out as quickly as possible. She’d done all she could for them. Now she concentrated on the small, blonde girl.

Centering herself, she inhaled Janie’s scent from the items and visualized the little blond haired girl surrounded by her pale pink and blue aura. It had been so easy to form a connection to the man who had taken and abused these children. Why couldn’t she find the mind and spirit of one tiny, lost, little girl? And then she knew why.

If Janie were dead or seriously injured and unconscious, she wouldn’t be able to reach her. She needed an active mind with which to connect. Oh no she moaned as she rocked back and forth, clutching the bag to her chest. Janie, you’ve got to open your eyes sweetie,

she thought, concentrating on seeing Janie’s open, blue eyes. You’ve got to hear me. I’m in your head, baby. I’ve got a nice dog here to find you. She’s soft and pretty. She’s friendly. I’ve got your teddy. Your mommy wants me to find you Janie.

Giving one final push with her own energy, she called to the girl with her spirit. You have to open your eyes and look around you so I can find you.

Cristi knew the girl wouldn’t hear what she said word for word. She was not a telepath. She was just trying to connect with the little girl’s energy, jolt her into waking up or get her to focus for a moment. That might allow her a fleeting glance of something the girl had seen or could currently see. That glimpse might give her a clue as to where the little girl had gone. Janie,

she thought as hard as she could, Janie wake up. Where are you baby?

And then her breath was taken away and she started trembling as her bare feet were running over rocks and pine needles that hurt, through the trees, towards the water. There was fire behind her. Fire in the trees; smoke in the air. It was hard to breathe. Sparks fell around her. She was afraid of the fire. She was tired. She couldn’t run any more so she crawled into a little cave in the big rocks.

Blaze was whining, pushing her body against Cristi’s knees; touching her cheek with her wet nose. “I’m ok, baby, I’m ok,” she whispered, “You’re going to have to find a trail. We need to find this little girl.” Oh, to have JJ right now, she thought. I have no idea where to look. Where would he have dropped her off? Where had she run from? She thought Janie was somewhere in the rocks overlooking the lake. Blaze was not that good at finding a trail without having its start pointed out to her. “Well, we have to try,” she said aloud and squared her shoulders. “We can’t find her if we don’t try.


CHAPTER SIX:

“Charlie, we need to talk,” she told him once he’d moved the radio away from his ear. Even now, when she was so worried, maybe even more so now when he was absorbed in doing his job; his expression serious, his lean muscles taught with coiled energy, his eyes glancing this way and that, taking in the fire and then the children, gauging how far away the other teams were, she was attracted to him. She wanted his arms around her again. She wanted him to take over and say it was going to be ok, make it be ok. He glanced down at her, the look on his face one of distraction.

“I’m sorry the other little girl isn’t here,” he said misreading the expression on her face. “Don’t feel bad, you found two children we didn’t even know the sucker had taken.”

“Charlie,” she interrupted, “I saw her. She was here somewhere with these kids. He dumped her here and she ran into the trees, towards the water or along the water. She was afraid of the fire so she must have been closer to the fire than we are now. I saw sparks falling around her. She’s in the rocks somewhere.”

“You saw her? You connected with her?”She nodded her head.

“She was here? Well, the fire was actually closer to here in the beginning. I think that’s probably why these two crawled under the deck, to protect themselves from the smoke and falling embers
.
You can see how the ground is scorched in places but luckily the grass here is a little moister than the surrounding forest and it didn’t ignite. The fire moved away from here to the east. There was a wind coming off the lake, from the west last night, so that helped push the fire away from the cabins. She may have been in this same area.

Maybe we could do a perimeter sweep of the camp area and see if Blaze can pick up where she left.”

She felt like a weight lifted from her shoulders. With Charlie involved they’d figure out how to find the little girl’s trail. It wasn’t solely up to her and her young, relatively inexperienced dog. “Can we get started? The fire is not that far away and if it turns, we’ll be in trouble. She was unconscious, too, when I first tried to reach her. I got her to come to for a minute, and then I connected with her, but she’s passed out again. I think she’s hurt, Charlie. We need to find her before its too late.”

“Just as soon as the other teams get here and take charge of these kids,” he said. “We’ll all do a perimeter search, Mike, Denny, you and Blaze and me. Hey Mike, what was the little girl wearing when she was picked up?” He was off, talking to Mike and Denny, looking at their fact sheets, planning how they’d run the search. Maybe, just maybe there would be some little thing, somewhere in this area that they’d find to give them a ‘start’ to run a trail with the dog. If they could get Blaze on a trail, she could find the little girl.

Fifteen minutes later the boy and girl were packaged safely onto stretchers, both with an IV running into a vein and a Para-Medic walking with them monitoring each on their own stretcher as four volunteers per stretcher carefully carried them out over the broken ground. “Good luck,” one of the guys called back to the two teams left behind by the deck.

“Ok, I’ve been thinking about this,” Mike said. I have a feeling she was not with these two kids. I think she might have stayed with them if she’d been with them. Maybe he dumped her out first or maybe he dumped them and was going to keep her, then decided to ditch her too. I just think Blaze would have given us some indication if there had been another child here. She is actually the one who found the first two and that was without any scent items telling her who she might be looking for.”

“We can do a perimeter search of the whole Boy Scout camp but that is a huge area for Blaze to search for a scent that might be there. It’s at least a mile around this camp. If we do that large an area with her first, Cristi, she might get discouraged. Do you agree?”

“I agree we don’t have time for clearing large areas. If we can narrow it down to a portion of the camp where Janie might have been or where she was at some time for sure, it would be a lot better.”

“Ok,” Charlie said. They all watched him intently. Maybe his cop experience could help them out here. “ Smith drove his van on the dirt road into the camp. He had to have gotten close because I don’t think he carried the little boy and girl in here and I don’t think they could have walked or crawled very far on their own. We know the gate is locked up at the top of the hill at the entrance to the camp. I think he must have thrown the kids we just found out there and they headed to the cabins looking for safety.

He may have let Janie out there also, or she may have gotten out of the van while he had the door open. The fire was closer then. If she was afraid of the fire and the embers falling all around, she might have run into the trees from the gate area. Or she may have gotten out of the van farther down the road, when he stopped to set the fire.”

“We can’t take Blaze to where he started the fire,” Cristi said. “The scorched ground and the smoke will coat the inside of her nose and make it impossible for her to sniff for scent. We have to keep her away from burned ground and smoke.”

“Say,” Denny spoke up from where he’d been sitting on the deck. “I saw a show where they had to take a dog through a patch of burning ground to reach some rubble they needed the dog to search. They tied a damp cloth over the dog’s muzzle. It supposedly helped to keep the smoke out of the dog’s nose and the moisture in the cloth was said to also enhance the dog’s ability to take in scent. You think that’s got any merit?”

“It might work,” Cristi said. “The dog’s nose is supposed to be wet to pick up scent and the cloth might help it not become lined with the soot of the smoke. We can try it until we want her to start looking for the trail, then we can take it off.” Blaze wasn’t too keen on having a handkerchief tied over her muzzle but after a little stroking, a couple commands to ‘leave it’ and then a big ‘good girl, good leave it’, she left the wet handkerchief in place where Cristi had attached it to her collar on one side of her head and pulled it across over her nose to the collar on the other side of her head. “Let’s get started before she rips it off,” she said, standing to look at her handiwork.

The two teams walked up the hill to the gate then split up to search each side of the road for any sign of a recent vehicle passage, footprints, scuff marks or items being dropped. Their goal was to walk to the area where the fire had started then turn around, scent Blaze off the girl’s items, and walk back down the road hoping she would pick up a trail.

It was almost three hundred feet from the gate when Denny found a grocery store plastic bag with trash in it. It looked relatively fresh; not covered in dust or pine needles and it hadn’t been rained on. “Think this might have fallen out of the van?” he asked. Everyone walked over to see the trash. It contained three empty beer cans, a couple empty plastic water bottles and granola bar wrappers. “Who knows,” Mike said. “Let’s try here. Some one put that bag here, it could have been Smith.”

“Ok, the way Jana would do this is to go another fifty feet or so up this side of the road, turn around, scent JJ and then start walking back down the side of the road. If JJ even turned her head to the side Jana would check that place out for a trail. I’m going to try that with Blaze. You guys all stay behind us so she is not distracted.”

They did just that. Blaze stopped and checked out the trash then continued on. She turned her head to the side about five feet past the trash then continued on sniffing back and forth in a zigzag pattern along the side of the road.

“You think the wind overnight might have dispersed the scent?” Charlie asked. “This gravel road is hard as rock and so dry I can’t see it holding anything. The scent could have blown down or up or across it. Plus the smoke would have covered this area earlier in the day.”

“Maybe,” Cristi said and turned around to walk back up the road. Blaze kept sniffing the area, back and forth. Near the trash she circled to her right, around Cristi. Cristi stood her ground and let Blaze circle, let her hunt for and find the scent on her own. It wouldn’t be until she committed fully to a trail that she could actually say she thought Blaze had the scent.

It took three circles, each bigger than the last until Blaze stopped in the trees to the north of the bag of trash and started a zigzag pattern, nose to ground further into the trees. She didn’t have a good trail yet because she hadn’t committed her body to running it.

Once she was committed to a trail she would straighten out like an arrow, her body in a tight, every molecule alert, straight line from her nose to her tail. However, Cristi thought they had the right area because Blaze was finding bits of scent. If she hadn’t had anything that smelled like the girl, she would have just moved on down the road.

Blaze kept up the zigzag pattern through the trees, rocks and low-lying juniper shrubs. At one shrub she appeared to have lost the tiny bit of scent she had been following. She circled the juniper then went to another and circled it and then to another and circled it.

“The scent must have pooled in these bushes,” she said for the guys’ benefit. “She hasn’t got a good, straight trail but that would be expected, I guess. A six-year-old running for her life isn’t going to make a straight trail. Plus, the wind has blown the scent around and mixed the smoke in with it.”

Blaze kept searching. She held her nose to the ground when she was hunting for the scent. When she seemed to have found it she raised her nose to its normal, most comfortable level and moved out faster pulling on the line in Cristi’s hands. They crossed a downed log, then entered a depression that Blaze circled a couple of times, then moved up into some big rocks.

The rocks must have protected the ground from the wind, somewhat, because the minute Blaze hit the rocky area she picked up speed and turned down a slope towards the water. As they turned Cristi realized the wind had picked up and was now at her back.

She heard static on all four radios then the IC’s voice called out Mike’s SAR number. “Rescue 38, IC, the wind has picked up and turned, the fire has shifted directions. It’s crowning and heading back your way. Do you copy? You need to leave the area, get back to the camp and out of there.”

“Roger that,” Mike replied, “but we’ve got the girl’s trail. If the fire’s turned it will get her if we don’t find her first.”

Oh God, Cristi thought, Oh God, the fire’s coming our way. Oh Blaze, I’ve done it, I put you in front of a fire.


CHAPTER SEVEN:

Cristi didn’t dare say a word to distract her little dog but she prayed, run Blaze, run fast. Find her fast baby. They were headed for an area of huge rocks bordering the lake. The area was solid granite, a good six hundred feet up into the air from the lake level and a good mile long in terms of the lake shore covered from one end to the other. The rocks were huge, depressingly so because Cristi had to climb them, fast! They were also covered in scattered pine trees and littered with pine needles.

“We get up in there and we’re going to be trapped,” Mike said.

“Yeah, but it’s where she is,” Charlie said. “Call it in Mike and ask if they have any way to get us off those rocks or to pick us out of the water if we can get down to it.”

Blaze was moving towards the rock at a steady trot. She had the trail now. This was her normal working speed. Cristi jogged behind her, totally willing to run full out if only her little dog would pick up speed. She could feel the wind, hot on her back. Embers had begun to fall around them. It sounded like a huge train was behind them but she had a feeling that was just the sound of the fire. As she ran she could hear dry trees explode as the sap in them ignited and the wind roared above her head, up and over the rocks.

“Why is it moving so fast?” she asked Charlie as they both ran behind the dog. “We’re going up hill again,” he said, “and the wind has picked up, plus it’s really hot right now. I think the fire is producing its own wind right now. The trees are so dry, they’re igniting from the heat.”

Suddenly the helicopter rose into the air behind the rocks ahead of them. It must have dropped down into Bismark Lake to fill its bucket. It hovered just above the trees, a dangerous place to be when there was a fire with downdrafts and cross winds. One he spotted them, the pilot flew just over the top of the trees to drop his water on the ground they had just covered. Then he veered off to return to the lake for another load.

Cristi felt tears come to her eyes as she ran. Nothing had ever been that beautiful or that dramatic a picture as the helicopter roaring up over the rocks to find them. Even if the fire was closing on them from behind she felt like they could do this.

Mike caught them from behind and told the whole group as they jogged behind Blaze. “There’s a mine access road just on the other side of the lake. We’re near the north end, I guess. I stopped just long enough to give them our GPS coordinates. They’re bringing in ATVs and are carrying an inflatable dingy and the ice rescue boat.”

Denny laughed at the idea of the team bringing in the ice rescue boat to paddle across the lake toward them. “Well I guess it does float,” he said. “I’ve been in icy cold Stockade Lake when a fisherman fell through soft ice and I had to use that boat to get him out. It does float.”

“Don’t knock it,” Mike threw back at him. “Whatever it takes, whatever they have, we’ll welcome it! They’re three miles out from the lake right now. They can’t get ATV’s all the way in but they’re going to run like hell down to the lake shore and put the boats in. We need to get to the water for them to pick us up. The helicopter will keep dropping water on us to try and hold the fire off.”

Blaze was now at the bottom of the long climb up into the rocks. Cristi has started coughing. She could hear the guys coughing behind her. As she slowed to begin the climb Denny reached around her head from behind and tied a wet handkerchief over her mouth and nose. She raised her hand in thanks and wished she could put the handkerchief back over Blaze’s nose. The little dog was determined to keep following the trail, no matter what was happening around them. Cristi felt more tears fill her eyes and it wasn’t because the smoke was bothering them, although it was.

They followed cracks up into the rocks, climbing as fast as they had jogged through the trees. Cristi bent double at the waist and scrambled up behind Blaze, grabbing trees or rocks whenever she could. The helicopter passed overhead and dropped another load of water. This one was close enough that the spray caught and wet her completely as she ran.

Blaze climbed and climbed and twisted and turned finding ways through the huge rocks. The guys had started calling out Janie’s name as they ran. “Janie, Janie, they called. Holler out to us, Janie. We’re here to help.” Cristi didn’t have enough air left in her lungs to say anything let alone to yell for the girl. All she could do was follow Blaze and hope they found her soon.

They were at the very top of the climb when Blaze finally stopped and disappeared from sight. Following right on her heels, Cristi saw the little cave in the rocks. Right on her heels, Charlie pushed her to one side, pushed through the tight squeeze between two mammoth boulders, got down on his belly, reached into the cave and pulled the little girl out. Mike and Denny were looking around them for an escape route.

For the first time in this long run Cristi looked behind her. The entire forest was on fire. Embers rained around them and flames were torching the trees sprouting form the base of the rocks they’d just climbed. It would only be a minute, maybe two or three before the fire was upon them.

Panicked she started winding up the long leash attached to Blaze’s harness. She unclipped it and put it on the little dog’s collar and then picked her up in her arms. If necessary she was going to jump with her into the water. She knew that was dangerous. Everyone knew you never dove into the water in any of these lakes since the rocks were even bigger below the surface. But, she’d do it anyway if the alternative was burning and allowing Blaze to burn.

Charlie had the limp body of the little girl in his arms and had started to pick his way down the rocks towards the water. Mike grabbed her arm and pushed her ahead of him. “We can climb down part way,” he said into her ear. “Getting down below this fire is good any way you look at it. Fire goes up. If we can get down far enough, it might save us. Give Blaze to me, I’m stronger. Run Cristi. Get going.”

Another load of water exploded right behind them. It helped get Cristi’s feet moving. She slid and jumped and ran and fell down the rocks. She would later think no one had made a more inelegant or dangerous decent off a rock cliff than they did that day.

It took two minutes to reach a ledge that was not going to allow them to go any further. Mike put Blaze down. Cristi held her close. Denny dug a climbing rope out of his pack, while Mike got another out of his. “This is going to be rough,” one of them said, “ we don’t’ have time to set a proper anchor, but we’ll do what we can and hope for the best."

As she watched, both men put their ropes around a spire of rock, tied them off and threw the excess over the ledge. Mike threw Charlie a harness. He stepped into it while Denny and Mike attached rappelling descenders to each rope. “Give her to me,” Charlie told Cristi. She handed Blaze to him.

He tied Blaze to his chest with her lead, quickly forming an ‘X’ passing the rope first over one shoulder, down over her body, around his waist and back up over the other shoulder. He did this several times until it was impossible for Blaze to move. She was whimpering. Mike tied Janie to his chest in the same manner.

“Cristi, climb on my back and hang on tight.” Charlie said, “We don’t have time to do this one at a time.” She did as he said and he walked backwards over the ledge and then they were in what felt to her like free fall as he worked his way down the rope and into the water. Mike was flying down the other rope, the comatose body of the little girl tied to his chest while Denny came sliding down the rope as soon as Mike hit the lake.

Once they were in the water, Cristi and Charlie both held to their rope while Charlie held Blaze’s head above water. Denny and Mike were clinging to the other rope. Mike had pushed Janie up so her head was near his neck. “We should be safe here until they get to us,” Charlie told her. “Just hang on and stay cool. I’ve got you both.”

She could hear the fire roaring overhead. It had reached the top of the rocks. Embers rained down around them sizzling as they hit the water. Every now and then a flaming tree or branch would come tumbling down. The ledge deflected each and everything, keeping any flaming debris from hitting them. She did worry something might float over and burn them right while they were in the water but their movements seemed to be creating small waves that sent debris moving away from them.

“They’re here,” Denny finally said. “They’ve reached the other side of the lake. They’re putting the boats in the water. The lake’s not very wide at this point. Shouldn’t take them long to get here.”

Cristi was never so happy to see anyone, as she was to see her teammates coming towards her across the water. The ice rescue boat was not designed to be rowed across a lake. It was just a plastic foam board mounted to two air filled pontoons. It was meant to be pushed across the ice and be maneuvered into the water if necessary to drag someone aboard, but two of her fellow search and rescue members were paddling madly, perched on the plastic deck between the pontoons.

The inflatable reached them first. Charlie pushed and the man and woman inside the boat pulled her up and inside. Next they pulled in Charlie and Blaze. He landed on top of Blaze but she didn’t say a thing. Poor little girl was traumatized and trusting them to not kill her. “Where’s Janie,” she asked as Charlie unwound the rope holding Blaze to him and pushed the shivering wet dog into her arms. Just then Mike pushed the little girl over the side of the boat and into Charlie’s lap, then he turned in the water and made his way to the ice rescue craft.

One of the people manning the inflatable draped a blanket around Cristi’s shoulders and then put another around Charlie and Janie. Her fellow volunteers had already started paddling for the opposite shore. She looked behind her to see Mike and Denny scrambling onto the platform of the Ice Rescue Boat while their two rescuers hung onto pontoons and swam, pushing the boat ahead of them while Mike and Denny paddled.

“They’re going to get tired,” she said. Charlie looked at the other craft and said, “They didn’t just run over a mile with a fire chasing them. They can handle it.”

He wrapped one arm around Cristi’s shoulders and whispered into her ear, “You were a sight to behold back there, running with Blaze the wonder dog. You and she are heroes. You know that don’t you?”

Tears steamed down Cristi’s face as she said, “Oh Charlie, we still have to run for the ATV’s when we reach the other side. Save your breath for the next run of our lives. This thing will probably hit the end of the lake and come after us on the other side. As she said that the helicopter was already dropping water at the end of the lake hoping to turn the fire so it would not do that. She could also hear fire engines roaring in on the access road, coming as far as they could to start digging a fire line. They were wetting down the trees around the way out.


CHAPTER EIGHT:


Friday night, Cristi pulled on a pair of new, tight black jeans and a form-fitting pink cotton sweater and drove to the Hitchrail Bar and Restaurant in Pringle. She had a date to meet her best friends for drinks and dinner.

Everyone was there. Dave and Jana had returned from Pine Ridge full of stories of their adventures. Mike had brought his wife, Mattie. She listened to all the talk about fires and running for their lives and said she was glad to be working in the hospital taking care of everyone her husband and his teammates had sent to her.

“We should ask Denny and his wife to come next time,” Mike suggested and they all agreed to do that.

There was a tiny dance floor in one corner of the bar area, between the pool table and the jukebox. Charlie fed a bunch of quarters into the machine and asked Cristi to dance. He held her tight. They swayed to Conway Twitty crooning Slow Hands, and she thought of his hands moving slowly over her body. She shivered.

“You cold?” he asked.

“Nah,” she said, “just thinking.” She thought they made a pretty good pair. Her with her ash blonde hair and blue eyes. Him with his light brown hair and grey eyes. Both of them slim and toned, dressed in jeans that hugged their butts, relaxed and having fun. They were ass kicking, hotter than hell search and rescue volunteers. They had saved three little kids, all of who were in the hospital recovering from their ordeals.

Mattie had told them the doctors thought Janie had hit her head somewhere in the rocks. She had a big goose egg on her temple and had probably suffered a concussion but she’d recover. “It might have been a blessing for the little girl,” she said. “Unlike the other two children, nothing too traumatic or abusive happened to her. She remembers a big bad man, running through the woods away from the fire and waking up in the hospital.”

The other two were not so lucky. Both had been sexually abused. Both would be in treatment for a long time. The feds were still trying to locate their parents.

Charlie picked up the energy and rocking rhythm of Blue Bayou by Linda Ronstadt. Turning her round and round he held her tight and whispered in her ear. “You know I would have picked you up in Hot Springs. You didn’t have to drive.”

“I know but I thought maybe I should have my own ride in case you were called in to work.”

“I’ve got the pager turned off,” he replied and kissed her neck behind her ear. “Everyone needs a night off now and then. So I get to follow you back to Hot Springs tonight, right?”

“Right,” she said and blushed as she pressed her face against his collarbone and grinned. Tonight she’d get to share the bed with some one other than Gus and Blaze.

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 06.01.2012

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For the search dogs who put their lives on the line each time they work to find and bring home the lost.