Morning Light (21 page)

“I didn't mean it that way at all.”

“How did you mean it, then?”

“They worked. The words, I mean. They just fixed my hurt feelings.”

He gave her a wary look. “Are you having me on?”

Loni smiled. She couldn't help herself. “No. I feel better. It
did
hurt my feelings when you said people like me are against your religion. It bothered me even more when I realized your religion is
my
religion. It's something of a sore spot.”

His mouth quirked at the edges, a telltale sign he was trying not to grin. “I imagine it is. But we'll take care of that.”

“How?”

“We'll sit down with Father Mike. He'll set you straight.”

Loni shuddered. “No, thanks. I've come to a place where I feel good about who and what I am, but I don't discuss it with priests—or nuns, for that matter. It's one of those things I've decided is a matter of conscience.”

“Well, from where I'm standing you haven't worked your way through it enough to take charge of your life.” At her resentful glare, he held up a hand. “Hear me out. Instead of controlling your gift, you're allowing it to control you. Do you think God meant for you to be miserable your entire life? Tell me I'm wrong. Are you or are you not miserable a lot of the time?”

“You have no idea what this is like for me.”

“No, probably not. But judging by the little I've seen, you're definitely miserable. There has to be a way to block some of the stuff that comes to you. You're picking up things from the past, things from the future, and things from right now. Do you think God meant for it to be a big muddle? Do you think He meant for you to be pelted with visions and be unable to help anyone with the information He sends you? Hell, no. He gave you a powerful gift, something most people can't even imagine. You're a walking miracle of creation,
His
creation. How can you think He doesn't want you to make the most of it
and
have a wonderful life in the process?”

Loni rubbed her temple. “Can we drop it for now? I'm getting a headache.”

“Sure. Just think about it. Okay?”

Loni fell back to the end of the line and did little else
but
think about it. It was true that she'd never tried to control her visions. In a way Clint was right. She'd always been afraid to do so because her gift was so powerful and multifaceted. What if she attempted to focus, really focus, and gained control of it? Wouldn't she be running a terrible risk of only
thinking
she was in control? There were dark, evil forces in the world. She'd looked into the eyes of a serial killer and seen true evil. People who didn't believe in the dark side were living in a bubble. She was terrified of opening up a channel of communication and receiving signals from the wrong sources.

But was that having true trust in God? If her gift was heaven-sent, which she knew it was, and if she attempted to control it only through heartfelt prayer and meditation, why should she be afraid? God wouldn't answer her prayers if she'd be opening herself up to evil forces. He'd just say no.

Hands shaking, Loni drew Boo back out of the saddlebag. Clutching the stuffed bear to her breast, directly over her heart, she prayed for the first time in her life to gain control over her visions.
Please, God. Not just for my sake, but also for Trevor's, help me, please help me. Holy Mother, in all your goodness, please pray for me and also for Trevor.

Clint had just checked the time and decided they had approximately three good hours of daylight left when he heard Loni shout his name. Pulling Malachi to a halt, he shifted on the saddle to look back. She had urged Uriah into a trot to reach the front of the line, and she bounced on the saddle with the horse's every step. Just watching her made Clint wince. He'd be rubbing her down again tonight with Hooter's miracle cure. That was a given.

“Right here!” she said breathlessly as she brought the horse to a sudden halt, sending up a cloud of dust. “This is where they left the water.”

Clint glanced around. There was some white water a way upstream, and the current was swift, but he'd seen a dozen likelier places over the course of the day where two adults might have drowned.

“Did you just have a vision or something?”

Her eyes glowed with inner light. “No, not a vision. I just know. This is where Trevor and Nana left the water.” She flung her arm to indicate a rocky draw between two tree-studded hills. “They went that way, right up through there.”

Clint had been keeping an eye peeled for tracks. All he'd seen were footprints left by searchers. But he'd been around Loni long enough to know she wouldn't be telling him this without good reason.

“All right.” He loosened the packhorse line from his saddle and looped it over her saddle horn. “Stick tight with the horses. I'll ride up and have a look. If I can pick up their tracks, we'll start in here.”

To avoid missing anything, Clint headed up the draw in a zigzag pattern, leaning forward over Malachi's neck to scan the ground ahead of them. At first he saw nothing. He was about halfway up and starting to think Loni had to be mistaken when there, right in front of him, shielded from the wind by a boulder, was one large paw print. Only one, but it was enough to set Clint's heart racing. A few feet farther up he saw a small shoe print. He drew Malachi to a halt, dismounted, and covered the next fifty yards on foot, leading the horse behind him. Though wind had obliterated most of the tracks, he saw enough to convince him.

“Damn, she's good.”

Shoving his hat back, he took the measure of the terrain he'd have to take the horses through. It was rocky, but passable. He smiled grimly. There wasn't a chance in hell that they'd find Trevor before dark. The rafting accident had occurred last Friday, and it was now late Monday afternoon, putting the kid three full days ahead of them. But if they busted ass, pushing the horses and not stopping to rest as long as there was enough light for the equines to see by, they might close the distance within two days. Maybe less if Trevor's strength was flagging and making him stop more often.

Eager to share the news with Loni, Clint mounted up and turned Malachi back toward the river.

A
n hour later they had crested the ridge. Eager to begin the descent down the opposite side of the mountain while there was still enough sunlight for safe travel, Clint was mildly irritated when Loni hollered from the back of the line for him to wait. He turned in the saddle to watch her ride toward him.

“What's up?” he asked when she drew her mount to a stop near him.

“That's the wrong way.” Flinging out an arm, she pointed toward the setting sun. “He's in that direction.”

Over the course of the last two days Clint had come to trust in Loni's instincts as he'd never believed possible, but the footprints, not yet obliterated by the wind, didn't lie. “Honey, I've seen a few of Trevor and Nana's tracks, and they aren't heading west.”

She frowned in bewilderment. “I don't know how that can be. I feel it here, Clint.” She pressed a fist to her sternum. “He's over there.” She pointed again. “I'm certain of it.”

Problem: Clint's experience in tracking told him to follow the boy's trail. If they went haring off in another direction, he might play hell finding the kid's tracks again.

“Will you bear with me on this?” He indicated the faint tracks he was following. “All my experience tells me to stay on his trail, honey. Maybe your signals are crossed. You can't deny the evidence of your own eyes. Right?”

“I have two pairs,” she reminded him. “And my second set never steers me wrong.” She studied the ground again. “I can't understand it. But okay. Maybe I'm misinterpreting my signals.”

“Did you have a vision?”

She shook her head. “I can't explain. Maybe it's because I've been praying. I just
know.
”

Clint didn't want to make light of her feelings. “Has it ever happened like this before?”

“No. It's new. I've only ever seen things in visions until now.”

He thought it over. “Since it's new, I think we need to stick with the tried-and-true methods. If you have a vision of him, and your feelings prove to be correct, we can always alter our course.”

She nodded in agreement, but her crestfallen expression told him she wasn't happy about it. When she'd resumed her position at the back of the line, Clint dropped off the ridge, grateful that the steep terrain seemed to be a lot less rocky on the north slope. Protection from the south wind had also preserved Trevor's and Nana's tracks, leaving him a trail that was easier to follow.

The late-afternoon sunlight was starting to wane when Clint noticed the tracks had suddenly veered northwest. A few minutes later he was cursing under his breath. The boy and dog clearly had altered their course and were now headed due west, precisely where Loni had tried to direct Clint in the first place. It wasn't long before he heard the sound of rushing water. Soon he came upon a creek.

After dismounting, he waited for Loni to ride the length of the line to join him at the stream's edge. Offering her a shamefaced grin, he said, “I should have listened to you. I wasted a good hour following his trail.”

She swung off the horse. He was surprised to note that her legs didn't appear to wobble, though she did walk stiffly. Most people took three or four days to break in to the saddle. “So I was right?” She looked around and beamed a smile. “At least he found water. That's great. Isn't it?”

Clint was relieved that she seemed to bear him no animosity for making such a bad judgment call. A lot of people would have been unable to resist rubbing it in. “It's definitely a good sign. If he follows the creek as long as he can, he won't get dehydrated.”

“How long do you think it'll take us to catch up with him?”

“He headed in on Friday, so he's got a full three-day jump on us. It all depends on how fast we can cover ground.” Clint moved around the horses to see the lay of the land along the downhill course of the stream. The descent was peppered with huge ponderosa pines and a good deal of deadfall. “If he stops to rest a lot, maybe a day and a half. Two if he's traveling at a steady pace.”

“I kind of doubt he'll travel very fast,” she replied. “My nephews, Kirk and Kinnon, always fall behind when Deirdre and I go walking in her neighborhood.”

“They do?” Clint hadn't been around youngsters very much. Judging from what he'd seen, the ones under ten were like farts in a hot skillet, darting every which way at high speed. “I guess I'll have to take your word for it. Kids aren't my specialty.”

She smiled. “For all their seemingly boundless energy, they get sidetracked easily and tire more quickly than we do.”

“Let's hope.”

“Can we ride a little longer today?” she asked. “I'm anxious to catch up to him.”

“Me, too, but it's turning dusk. If you're up to it we can take a break and ride a little farther after it's fully dark, using a flashlight to check for tracks. But my horses are sight-impaired right now. In uneven, steep terrain like this, that's dangerous.”

She looked around, frowning in confusion. “I can still see fine.”

“An equine's eyes are different. They have more rod cells than cone cells in their retinas. At night, when it's fully dark, they have excellent eyesight, better than ours by far, but at this gray time of evening they can't see very well at all, their version of night blindness. I don't want one of my horses to break a leg.”

“How interesting.” She rubbed Malachi's nose. “Poor baby. It's awful trying to walk through stuff like this when you can't see, isn't it?”

The gelding chuffed and whickered, nudging her with his nose. Loni smiled and gave him another scratch. Watching her, Clint recalled his dating checklist and gave her high marks for loving animals. There were a lot of areas where she'd earned high marks, he realized.

With a sigh she zipped up her fleece jacket against the evening chill. “We may as well make camp here then. In full darkness, using a flashlight, wouldn't we run a risk of losing Trevor's trail?”

“The tracks haven't been disturbed by the wind as much on this side of the ridge, but there is that possibility if he stops following the creek. The water will take the easiest downhill course, which may not always be due north. If the boy's using a compass, he might get worried and follow the needle instead of the water. In that case we could lose him.”

“God forbid. I've been praying and trying to strengthen my abilities, which I'm almost certain gave me that gut feeling earlier, but there's no guarantee until I've practiced more that I'll get any gut feelings tomorrow.”

“So you're taking my advice about trying to gain control?” He made no attempt to conceal his pleasure at the news. “That's great, Loni.”

He glimpsed that glow in her eyes again.

“I was a little scared at first,” she confessed. “But then, after thinking about it, I realized that was dumb. God won't help me strengthen my abilities and then leave me to my own devices.”

“No, that isn't how He works. Just always remember to keep Him close, and you'll do fine.”

Clint began tending to his horses. The animals had put in a hard day and deserved some pampering. He was pleased to have Loni assist him. She still had a tendency to move in too close behind an animal, despite his constant warnings, but she'd learned a lot otherwise. When it came time to rub the horses down, he heard her talking to them as if they were human, and she seemed to enjoy handling them now that her fear was abating.

“How come Uriah always raises his head to look down his nose at me when I'm talking to him?”

“He's using his binocular vision.”

“His what?”

“Horses have both monocular and binocular vision. In monocular mode, excluding their blind spots, they have a radius of vision that ranges from three hundred and twenty to three hundred and fifty degrees.” Clint pushed against Bathsheba's flank to turn her slightly as he rubbed her down. “When you're riding Uriah he will mostly be in monocular mode, his eyes working separately. Picture a clock lying flat on the ground, and yourself in the saddle, sitting at twelve o'clock and facing forward with the clock numbers all behind you. In monocular mode Uriah can see from the left side of his nose to an angle of about eight o'clock behind your left shoulder and from the right side of his nose to an angle of about four o'clock behind your right shoulder.”

She rubbed the horse's velvety muzzle. “That's amazing. Talk about having eyes in the back of your head.”

Clint chuckled. “It really is amazing when you think about it. The problem is, in monocular mode Uriah has a blind spot the width of his nose directly in front of him. When you stand in that blind spot to pet him, like you are right now, he has to raise his head and focus binocularly down his nose to see you.”

She combed her fingers through Uriah's black fore-lock. “I'll be darned. When I first met him it frightened me when he threw his head up and rolled his eyes at me like this.”

“It scares most greenhorns. They think the horse is spooked. Not so. He's only focusing. You ever tried to look through a set of binoculars at something close up?”

“No.”

“Try it sometime. Damned near impossible. You have to back off a little to see.”

“It must be horribly confusing to see monocularly with two eyes.”

“For us it would be. The horse sees the left side of the trail separately from the right, two entirely different pictures. Fortunately he possesses interocular transfer, so he recognizes what he's seen with his left eye when he sees it with his right, and the monocular vision gives him a much broader view than ours, protecting him from predators. One of these times you may be riding happily along, and Uriah will suddenly spin around and throw up his head. You'll think something spooked him. But the truth is, he's just seen movement monocularly. He's spinning and throwing up his head to focus binocularly so he can tell what moved and how far away it is.”

“So the monocular vision isn't very clear.”

“No, and because the horse evolved as a prey animal, he uses monocular vision most of the time to keep an eye out for danger.” Clint grabbed the curry-comb to remove the tangles from Bathsheba's tail. “Their perfect vision is twenty/thirty-three on the human scale, so it's not nearly as clear as ours. Their depth perception in monocular mode isn't very good either, thus the spinning and focusing when they see movement.” He looked over Bathsheba's withers to make eye contact with Loni. “That's why your habit of approaching a horse from behind is so very
dumb.
He can't see you until you step into his monocular range. Always talk to the horse so he knows it's you approaching. Otherwise he's liable to spook and kick you clear into next week.”

“Have you ever been kicked?”

Clint chuckled. “Does a bear shit in the woods? Yes, ma'am. Had a horse break my femur once. Trust me when I say you don't want it happening to you.”

When the animals had cooled down enough to drink, Clint and Loni led them in pairs to a flat spot along the stream to consume their fill of water. Then they strung the high line and fed all the equines a ration of alfalfa cubes, working together yet again. Loni had once told Clint that she was a fast learner, and she hadn't lied. Once he showed her how to do something, she remembered every step the next time. Definitely a lady who had potential as a horseman's wife.

The thought gave Clint pause. But then he wondered why. On so many levels he and Loni just seemed to click. He'd gone with his gut on all the other big decisions of his life. Why not on this one?

After setting up camp Loni went searching for firewood. It still wasn't fully dark, so she enjoyed the opportunity to stretch her stiff legs, confident that she wouldn't get lost because she could still see the horses and the tent. She had almost a full armload of nice-size branches when she came across footprints. Trevor's. When she looked more closely, she also spotted Nana's tracks, following behind the boy's.

Setting the wood down, Loni followed their trail for a way. She wasn't entirely certain why. It was just a feeling she had. Moments later she understood. Up ahead was an outcropping of rock, and as she drew closer, she saw an opening. It was the cave where Trevor and Nana had slept the first night. She felt certain of it.

Picking up her pace she covered the remaining distance in only seconds. At the cave opening, the ceiling of which hit her about chin-high, she leaned over and went in. Silence. Light from outside illuminated the interior, creating a shadowy gloom. Loni spied a candy wrapper lying on the ground. When she picked it up, an image of the child and dog sharing a chocolate bar flashed through her mind. Smiling sadly, she sat there for a while, trailing her fingertips over the disturbed earth where Trevor and Nana had lain.

“You had me worried.”

Loni glanced up to see Clint leaning down to peer in at her. “Sorry. This is where he slept the first night. When I saw it I had to come in.”

Clint moved forward, shoulders hunched to keep from hitting his head. “Nice digs. He's a smart kid. Sleeping in here protected him from the wind and probably from the cold as well, to a certain degree.” He sat beside her. “Picking up anything?”