Soldier's Promise

The man slowly raised his hands and turned to present his back. Jake moved from behind the rock and checked the man’s pockets and waistband. No gun. He relaxed a little and lowered his weapon, though he kept it in his hand. “You can turn around now.”

The man did so. Up close, he looked even older—close to sixty. “What are you doing out here?” Jake asked.

“I am on vacation.”

“From where?”

“From Germany. Munich. I come to the United States every year.”

Jake looked around at the austere landscape. Not the kind of thing he would expect a city guy from Munich to be attracted to. “Why?”

“I embrace the wild beauty of this land.” The German spread his arms wide. “I find it endlessly fascinating.”

“Really?”

He dropped his hands. “Also, I have a great interest in the flora and fauna of the American wilderness.”

“Are you a botanist or something?”

“I am a hobbyist. My name is Werner Altbusser.” He extended his hand, but Jake didn’t take it. He didn’t for a minute believe this guy was as innocent as he pretended to be.

“Where are you camped?” Jake asked.

If he had been on the receiving end of these questions, Jake would have told the guy his campsite was none of his business, but Werner had no such qualms. “I am staying in a motel in Montrose,” he said. “I do not enjoy camping. And I realized when I was out here that I had not brought enough water with me, hence I was doubly glad to see your camp.”

Werner hadn’t just “seen” Jake’s camp. Jake had made sure it wasn’t visible from the road, and there were no nearby trails. “So you figured you’d wander over and take a look,” Jake said.

“I hoped someone would be home, and I could ask for a drink.”

Jake opened the cooler and took out a bottle of water. “Here you go.”

If the German was disappointed not to receive a beer, he didn’t show it. He twisted the lid off the water bottle and half drained it in one gulp. So maybe he was thirsty. Jake took out a bottle of water for himself.

Thirst slaked, Werner looked around the camp. “This is a remote location,” he said. “What brings you here? Are you, like me, a lover of nature?”

“I have business in the area.”

Werner’s eyebrows arched in unspoken question, but Jake didn’t elaborate.

“I met some other people camped in the area,” Werner said. “A group of young people, who said they are part of a large family who live here.”

Jake stiffened. Was he talking about Metwater’s bunch? “Where did you meet them?” he asked.

“Oh, while I was out walking.” He waved his hand vaguely. “Very nice young people.” He grinned, showing white teeth. “Very pretty women. Do you know them?”

“No,” Jake lied.

Werner drained the rest of the bottle, then crumpled it and set it on top of the cooler. “Thank you for the water. I will be going now.”

Jake couldn’t think of a good reason to detain the man. “Next time you come across an unoccupied camp, don’t wander in and help yourself,” he said. “The next person you meet might not be as understanding as me,” he said.

“I will remember that.” He gave a small bow, then turned and walked unhurriedly to the Jeep. After a few moments, the engine roared to life and trundled back to the road.

Jake waited until the vehicle was out of sight, then retrieved his pack and carried it into his tent. Out of habit, he checked the contents, searching through the spare shirt and socks, extra ammo, energy bars, sunscreen and water. But the item he was looking for wasn’t there.

He upended the pack on his sleeping bag, and emptied out the side pockets as well, the sinking feeling in his stomach growing to Grand Canyon proportions. The folder with his credentials and badge were gone. Whoever had taken them now knew he was a Fish and Wildlife officer. His cover was blown before the sting had even begun.

Chapter Five (#u6b33b1d0-f18c-5247-ae0e-d119b689371b)

Starfall cornered Carmen after breakfast the next day. “Heard from Soldier Boy?” she asked, smirking.

Carmen started to pretend she didn’t know who Starfall was talking about, but why play dumb? “I haven’t heard from him,” she said.

“Hmm.” Starfall twirled one long curl around her index finger. “I was hoping he’d stop by today to visit.”

“You know the Prophet told him he wasn’t welcome here.” Metwater had made a point after dinner last night of announcing that he wanted everyone to be more vigilant about keeping out uninvited visitors. He passed it off as a concern for the safety of the group, though he had specifically mentioned Jake as an example of someone who could disrupt the harmony of the group.

“Roscoe said he spotted a bunch of berry bushes south of here,” Starfall said. Roscoe was the Family’s mechanic. He made extra money by collecting rusting metal and the remains of cars that had been dumped in the wilderness, and selling them to scrap dealers in town. “Want to come pick with us this morning? If we get enough fruit, we can make jam.”

Carmen actually liked picking berries. The weather was pleasant, the scenery beautiful and it was one of her best opportunities to mingle with all of the women and many of the children in the group. She was learning about their backgrounds and getting a good picture of their relationships to the Prophet and to each other. Though some of them looked a little more ragged and dirty than others, she hadn’t found any real signs of neglect. A little more attention to schooling and health care would have been warranted, but she couldn’t see that Metwater and his followers were breaking any laws. Another day or two, and she would have to wrap up her investigation and get back to more pressing matters, so she might as well make the most of the time she had left. “Sure, I’ll come.”

When the women assembled with their buckets and baskets, Carmen was surprised to see Sophie and Phoenix. “Are you sure you’re well enough to be going out?” she asked Phoenix.

“I told her she should stay home and rest,” Sophie said.

“I’m fine.” Phoenix smiled. She looked pale but, then, she always looked pale. “And I like berry picking. I wouldn’t want to stay behind and miss it.”

“Come on, let’s go,” Starfall called. “I don’t want to wait around all morning.”

They set out, a motley collection of half a dozen women and an equal number of children. Some women had chosen to remain behind, including Asteria. But most enjoyed the opportunity to be away from camp, enjoying the nice weather. They found the raspberry bushes Roscoe had told them about, the thorny, fruit-laden canes clustered along the edge of a small canyon. Carmen began filling a plastic ice-cream bucket with the sweet, red fruit, careful to avoid the sharp thorns which continually caught and tugged on her clothes. She had worn jeans for the work and a billowing blouse that hid the gun tucked into her waistband.

Except for the gun, she was reminded of other berry-picking expeditions when she was a girl, with her relatives on the Southern Ute Reservation south of here. Aunt Veronica would try to scare them with stories about bears that would try to steal the fruit, and her mother would promise a reward for the child who picked the most berries. Smiling at the memory, Carmen paused to stretch her back and sample some of the juicy berries. She was sucking juice from her fingers when she noticed Starfall had moved away from the others and was searching the ground some distance away.

While most of the women had welcomed Carmen to the Family, Starfall had kept her distance. Carmen was still trying to figure out where the slight, curly-haired woman fit into the group dynamic. She wasn’t one of Metwater’s favorites—women who hovered around him at every meal and ceremony, like groupies around a rock star. She shared a tent with Asteria next to Metwater’s motor home and had a little boy whose father had accompanied her to the Family, but who had left after less than a month. All this Carmen had learned from other women, not Starfall herself. There was something sly and grasping about the young woman that made Carmen always on edge around her—and curious to know what she was hiding.

She moved away from the berry pickers and toward Starfall. The other woman straightened at her approach. “What are you looking for?” Carmen asked.

Starfall swept her mass of curly, brown hair back from her forehead. “Do you know anything about cactus?” she asked.

“Not much.” Her grandmother had taught her how to cook the green pads of prickly pear—removing the thorns and cutting the flesh into thin strips to sauté as a vegetable—but it wasn’t one of Carmen’s favorite dishes, and she doubted Starfall was interested in the recipe.

“I’m looking for this.” Starfall thrust a piece of paper toward her. Carmen took the paper and studied it. Obviously printed from the internet, it showed a squat, barrel-shaped cactus with wicked-looking spines and a soft pink flower.

“Where did you get this?” Carmen asked, returning the paper.

Starfall folded the copy and tucked it in the pocket of her skirt. “I met a guy in town who said he’d pay me twenty bucks for every one of these I found and brought to him.” She studied the ground again. “He said they grew around here, but they wouldn’t have flowers this time of year.”

“Isn’t it against the law to take plants from public land?” Carmen asked. She knew it was, though enforcement was lax, considering the other crimes the Rangers had to worry about.