 
Interrupted Solitude

Christian Fiction by Darryl Matter

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2019 by Darryl Matter

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Interrupted Solitude

This is a work of fiction. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

* * * * *
CHAPTER 1

The snow that started late last night was continuing into the morning. It was rapidly developing into a major winter storm, intensifying by the hour, and was predicted to last for several days. Matthew "Matt" Davis watched the snow from the window of his cabin as he prepared and ate an unhurried breakfast, watched the snow begin to pile up into drifts that would completely isolate him in his remote cabin. He wistfully welcomed the isolation the storm would bring, insulating him even further from the world of hurt he'd sought to escape by coming here to the high mountains.

He had rebuilt a part of the old cabin that existed on the remote mountain property he'd purchased, rebuilt it last summer into a snug, well-insulated sanctuary against the outside world–a world he wanted absolutely nothing to do with now that Allene was gone. Had it really been all of two years since she'd died. It wasn't a question. Matt knew exactly when she'd died. To the very minute. The tragedy of her death was firmly etched in his mind.

The plain truth was that Matt hadn't much wanted to go on living himself after Allene died. If it hadn't been for his former commanding officer and several friends who'd taken exceptionally compassionate care of him, he well might have taken his own life. So, here it was two years after her death, and he was alive. Even so, his life hadn't been the same since she'd been taken away from him, and he had sought shelter from the hurt in his heart in this remote mountain cabin.

Twice now, Christmas and New Years Day had been especially hard times for Matt, but he'd made it through the holidays both times without Allene or any other companionship, except for his memories. Yes, if he could make it through those times of the year by himself, Matt knew that he could make it through anything. He didn't need or want a thing from anyone. He could make it on his own. He'd take what life had given him and . . . .

DING! DING! DING! . . . DING! DING! DING! . . . DING! DING! DING!

The insistent ringing of Matt's cell phone interrupted the peacefulness of the cabin in the midst of that powerful winter snowstorm. Because of his intense dislike for even having the phone, in a perverse moment he'd adjusted the ring tone to be jarring and very loud. Obnoxious, really! Matt hated that sound.

DING! DING! DING! . . . DING! DING! DING!

Only one person had his telephone number.

Matt really had not wanted a telephone, had not wanted any contact with the world beyond his cabin, but Sheriff Bill Clanin had insisted that he have one. And Bill Clanin was the only one who knew his phone number.

It was while Matt was rebuilding the old cabin that the sheriff had stopped by. "I want you to have a phone," the sheriff had insisted, "because I just might need your help one of these days, and that just might be the only way that I could get in touch with you."

Matt had just looked at him incredulously. "You might need my help?" he questioned.

"I checked you out, Matt," Bill Clanin responded calmly, a wry smile flickering across his rugged face, "because I like knowing who's moving into my neck of the woods. I even talked to your former commanding officer, Colonel Stoeber. Found out that you were one of the best of the Army Rangers he'd ever commanded. Said you'd served in some of the most dangerous trouble spots in today's world and that you wouldn't have any trouble living by yourself in these mountains, not after your experiences in the mountains of Afghanistan. He also said you wouldn't give me any trouble."

Matt sighed and shook his head in disbelief. He'd planned to come out here by himself and remain anonymous. Anonymous and alone, with his few happy memories. Now here was this nosy sheriff . . . .

"I also asked him what you were doing way out here by yourself," the sheriff continued, "and he wouldn't tell me much. Said you'd had a terrible personal hurt just after you left the service, but he said it was your business, that it didn't concern me or anyone else, and that he wasn't about to discuss it with anyone. Said he reckoned that you wanted to be left alone for the time being, and that he could understand that, knowing what you'd been through. Even so, like I said, I'd like to be able to get in touch with you if and when I need you." The sheriff emphasized the last four words, when I need you, as if he knew he would.

Matt hadn't given in very easily, but the sheriff had continued to drop in on him and insist that he have a telephone. So Matt had reluctantly obliged the sheriff by getting a cell phone and that cell phone now was ringing loud and impatiently: "Hello," he hesitantly answered.

The sheriff wasn't given to small talk. "Matt. Bill Clanin here," he began, "I'm . . . I'm hoping you'll . . . you'll do me a favor . . . a big favor."

What was going on? "Big Bill" as people called the usually self-assured and straight-spoken sheriff was almost stammering. "What's up, Bill?"

"Some . . . Some ham operator out west of here got a faint distress signal from a small airplane about twenty minutes ago and called me." The sheriff's voice was stronger now.

"Yeah? What's going on?"

"I've checked things out, Matt. The plane's flight path should have taken it right over your cabin less than ten minutes ago. Have you . . . Have you seen or heard anything of it? Engine noise or . . . or anything?"

"No," Matt replied, after a moment's thought, "but the snow might have muffled the engine noise so that I couldn't hear it."

The sheriff ignored Matt's comment. "I'm looking at my map. If you didn't hear anything, that . . . that means it's . . . it's probably . . . probably down somewhere to the west of you."

"Maybe so, or maybe I just didn't hear it go over," Matt reasoned. "Were there any further distress signals?"

"There was. There was a second distress call, but it . . . it was garbled and weak and . . . and nobody got a proper fix on it."

"I see. And?"

"Matt, I . . . I don't like to ask this, not in this weather, but . . . but is there any way you could . . . could go take a look? See if you could see anything . . . of it? Of the airplane?"

Matt though for a moment before answering, visualizing the mountainous area to the west of his cabin. "There's a whole lot of rugged and uninhabited territory out west of me, Bill," he responded. "Miles and miles and miles. You know that."

"I . . . I know that, Matt, but there's no way . . . no way we could . . . could get a search going on out there, not . . . in . . . not in this weather." The sheriff seemed almost in tears. Something about that missing airplane seemed to be especially concerning him.

Matt didn't ask any more questions. "Okay. I'll try to hike over to the ridge to the west of my cabin. If I can get up there, I'll have a good vantage point to look over the terrain to the west. But Bill, let's be honest, in this weather I can't see all that much and--"

"I . . . I know, I know," the sheriff interrupted, "but . . . but thanks for . . . for whatever you can do. And Matt?"

"Yes?"

"At the rate the snow's coming down, the . . . the plane will soon be . . . will soon be . . . be buried . . . if it's down." Anxiety distorted the urgency in the sheriff's voice as he urged Matt to hurry.

"Okay. I'll do my best, Bill. That's all I can promise."

The sheriff sighed. "Thanks, Matt. Good luck."

"Wait a minute. Who's in the plane?" Matt asked.

"There's two . . . of 'em. The man's name is . . . is Cameron. He's the . . . the pilot. It's his plane. The woman's name is Kimberli."

"Okay. Cameron and Kimberli, right?" Matt repeated the names to be sure he had understood them correctly.

"Right."

"I'll get going and give you a call if I spot anything," Matt promised. He wasn't at all sure he would be able to spot anything given the poor visibility, but he'd give it his best shot.

Getting out into the snowstorm didn't concern Matt. As the sheriff already knew, he'd spent a lot of time in the high mountains of Afghanistan and a couple of other mountainous trouble spots as well. Still, when he was in the service he'd had all the necessary equipment and support he needed to do his job. Here he'd be on his own.

He was, of course, somewhat familiar with the mountains surrounding his cabin. Last summer and fall he'd explored them for some distance in each direction. And he did have a good handheld Global Positioning System unit with the Wide Area Augmentation System. That GPS/WAAS unit and his binoculars were all he had, however, that might help in locating a downed aircraft and getting a rescue team in to pick up any survivors.

At any rate, he'd do his best to find that airplane and do what he could for the people aboard, not only because it seemed to mean so much to Bill Clanin but because those people didn't deserve to die if Matt could help them. And they would die if they were simply abandoned in these mountains. If the crash hadn't killed them, the freezing cold soon would.

Within minutes of his conversation with the sheriff, Matt had pulled on his insulated coveralls, boots, jacket, cap, and gloves, then strapped on his backpack. His backpack contained a first aid kit and some other supplies he might need if he were able to locate that plane and if anyone was still alive. Enough snow had accumulated for Matt to use his snowshoes. He put them on his boots, checked his gear one last time, and he was ready to go.

Matt could just make out the rocky mountain ridge behind his cabin through the falling snow. He checked his GPS unit, pulled his cap down further onto his head, and set out to the west, toward that ridge.

As he began to climb toward that ridge, he could scarcely make out some of his familiar landmarks through the snow. Far to his right was the stream where he panned for gold last summer. It would be frozen over now. Frozen solid, most likely. And there a ways to his left was the clearing where some pioneer's cabin once stood, maybe a hundred years ago or, more likely, more. A few of the stones that once served for the cabin's foundation and walls were still there.

Matt had found a couple of old, well-worn silver dimes in that clearing after a heavy rain had washed away some of the soil and debris. The dates on those dimes were scarcely visible, but he made them out using a magnifying glass. One was dated 1876 and the other 1887. There just might be more coins around there.

Serious coin collectors preferred better, less worn coins, of course, but these "finds" were interesting to Matt, nonetheless. At any rate, he planned to search that area where the cabin once stood with his metal detector for additional coins and artifacts as soon as the weather permitted. Matt loved searching for hidden treasure, and he had found several ancient coins and a little gold over the years. At the very least, the treasure hunting temporarily kept his mind off Allene.

On a normal day, Matt could reach that mountain ridge in half an hour if he really hurried. Today, though, it took him almost an hour. He was in good physical shape, too, having developed an exercise routine of push-ups, pull-ups, and sit-ups that kept him fit, but slogging through the heavy snow took a good deal of effort and tired him more than usual. Finally, however, he reached the ridge and began to search the mountain range from that vantage point with his binoculars.

Over there! Yes! There! To Matt's left. Something, a piece of painted metal, perhaps, looked out of place in the deepening snow. Yes! That might or might not be the airplane, but he'd go take a look. It didn't appear to be over a mile away. Maybe a little farther. There weren't any other likely possibilities that he could see.

As Matt got closer to the shiny object he'd seen from the ridge, the more certain he was that it was a portion of a small airplane's tail sticking upward through the accumulating snow. The rest of the plane was shielded from his view by thick brush as well as the snow.

The small airplane was there, all right. The pilot had somehow managed to set it down in a clearing. Even though the wings, tail section, and landing gear appeared to be badly battered from the impact of the crash, the aircraft's cabin looked to be intact. That was good.

How the pilot managed to reach that clearing in the snowstorm was anybody's guess. He couldn't actually have seen the ground from above. Matt's guess was that crash-landing there had been pure luck. Although the ground around the plane sloped downhill at a fairly good angle, Matt believed that the clearing was suitable for a helicopter to land nearby, assuming that the pilot knew what he was doing. He'd better know what he was doing if he were out in this snowstorm.

Matt made his way through some heavy brush to the pilot's door and brushed away the accumulated snow. The door was jammed, but he managed to yank it open. Bad news. The pilot was slumped forward against the controls–obviously dead. Matt felt for a pulse and found none.

From the looks of things, the crash landing hadn't killed him. Matt guessed that he'd had a heart attack or something like that. There was nothing Matt or anyone else could do for him now. After closing the pilot's door, Matt made his way to the passenger's side.

The woman was slumped back in her seat. Blood oozed down her face from a nasty cut on her forehead and for a moment Matt thought that she, too, was dead.

"Kimberli?" Matt called her name softly. "Kimberli?"

"Ooooooooohhhhhhhhhhh!" The semiconscious woman stirred and moaned softly as Matt called her name. She was alive!

Matt had his cell phone out and quickly dialed Bill Clanin's number. "I'm at the crash site," he informed the sheriff. He then summarized the situation and gave the sheriff the geographical coordinates. "I'll do what I can for the woman. You get an EMT and a helicopter in here as soon as possible," he said.

"I'll get one on the way, and I'll patch you through to the pilot so you can direct him down," the sheriff responded.

Once assured that the helicopter was on the way, Matt turned his attention back to the woman. "Kimberli? Can you hear me?"

"Ye . . . Yes?" Her voice was faint, her teeth chattering.

"Hang on, Kimberli. We're going to get you out of here." Matt hoped he was telling her the truth.

"Co . . . Cold," she whimpered. The woman obviously was shivering.

"I know. We'll try to get you warmed up a little." Of course, the woman was cold and shivering. She was wearing light gloves and a hooded jacket and was rather warmly dressed, but not dressed to survive sitting in the freezing weather out here on the mountainside. There were as yet no obvious signs of serious hypothermia that Matt could detect, but he'd try to add additional clothing around the woman if he could.

There was a hand warmer of the kind hunters carry in Matt's backpack. He took it, shook and crushed it to activate the chemicals, and put the warmer between the woman's hands. Although her hands were shaking, she managed to clutch it tightly with her gloved fingers. That should help warm her hands. He was sorry that he didn't have more of those hand warmers, but then he simply wasn't prepared to attempt rescues such as this.

Matt rummaged through the cabin, found a heavy coat in the storage space behind the seats, and wrapped it over and around the woman, tucking the sleeves around her neck. He then managed to remove the coat the pilot had been wearing and wrapped it around the woman's feet and legs.

A metallic, reflective blanket from Matt's backpack came next. He wrapped it over the woman and tucked it in on each side, leaving only a small part of her face exposed. It was the best he could do.

Frostbite would be a problem if they didn't get that rescue helicopter out here soon. Maybe the additional clothing and the reflective blanket would help ward that off, and he'd cover her face and ears better as soon as he patched the cut on her head.

The cut on the woman's head was still bleeding. It would need several stitches once she got to a hospital. Using bandages from his first-aid kit, Matt dressed the cut on her forehead as best he could to stop or at least slow the bleeding and keep the blood out of her eyes. Once the bandages were in place, he carefully wiped the accumulated blood from her swollen eyes, being as gentle as he could so as not to hurt her more. She'd have plenty of bruises, but they'd heal. Matt wouldn't attempt to move her. The EMTs would have to check her for signs of head and spinal injuries before she was moved.

Once he'd bandaged the woman's cut and cleaned the blood from her eyes, Matt covered her face with a wool scarf he'd found tucked into a sleeve of the heavy coat that was behind the seat, leaving only a little space around her nose for her to breathe. It was the best he could do by her. Now they'd just have to wait for the helicopter he assumed was on its way.

DING! DING! DING!

Matt answered his cell phone on the first ring-tone. The sheriff had patched him through to the helicopter pilot who was asking for confirmation of the crash-site coordinates. Moments later, Matt heard the characteristic WHUMP! WHUMP! WHUMP! of a helicopter overhead.

Matt calmly talked the pilot down to the best landing spot. The helicopter's whirling blades kicked up a tremendous snow cloud, and then the chopper was on the ground and two EMTs were running through the snow toward Matt and the wrecked airplane.

The EMTs sized up the situation and worked quickly and effectively. Matt had to admire their effectiveness. These guys were good. A few minutes later, both the woman and the body of the pilot were loaded into the helicopter. Matt checked the interior of the airplane and located a briefcase, two small suitcases, a camera, and the woman's handbag. These he gave to the EMTs. His work there was finished. It was time for him to go home.

Just as Matt turned to walk away, one of the EMTs grabbed his arm. "Want a ride back to town with us?" he asked, motioning toward the helicopter.

Matt shook his head. "No. Thanks."

"You could wait out the storm in town?"

Again Matt shook his head. "No. You guys need to get going. Get the young woman outta here."

"Well, okay. Are you sure you'll be all right out there in this storm?" The EMT waved his hand at the mountains.

Matt shrugged his shoulders. "Makes no difference," he said, as he walked away from the chopper and into the falling snow. "Makes absolutely no difference," he mumbled aloud to himself over and over again, "absolutely no difference to anyone."
CHAPTER 2

WHUMP! WHUMP! WHUMP!

Matt hunkered down and took what shelter he could find beside the downed airplane as the helicopter's big rotor began to turn and churn up the snow around them. Soon the WHUMP! WHUMP! WHUMP! faded into the distance and then went away altogether as the helicopter disappeared into the swirling snow. Matt once again was alone in the vastness of the frosty mountains.

The GPS unit map would guide him back to his cabin even if he couldn't see his way. Although the blowing, constantly drifting snow would make travel extremely hazardous, he'd be okay, and if he wasn't, well . . . . Matt shrugged his shoulders against the cold and against the hurt in his heart. Who would care? With one last look at the wreckage of the aircraft, he set out back the way he'd come earlier that day.

It would be harder going back to the cabin because he'd have to climb uphill most of the way from the crash site to the ridge. Well, there wasn't any other way to get there than to keep moving.

A little later, Matt reached the shelter of some scrubby trees. They'd break the wind that seemed to be blowing harder and harder as the day progressed. He'd rest a little here. Those trees were his friends. He'd rested here before. After brushing the snow off of the rocks that he knew were there downwind of the trees, he sat down and fished a chocolate energy bar from his backpack. He was going to need that extra energy.

It must be colder than he'd thought. The moment Matt sat down, he sensed the wind begin to drive the cold into him. He was well dressed against the cold, of course, and the trees did block some of the wind, but . . . . Sometimes, it seemed that he could just go to sleep forever out here in the cold–and nobody would know the difference. Or care. Allene wouldn't have wanted him thinking that way, of course, but she wasn't . . . . No, he wouldn't think that way. He had to keep going. Almost reluctantly, Matt got to his feet and began to follow his GPS trail back toward his cabin.

It was beginning to get dark by the time Matt reached his cabin, and he was bone-tired from his trek. Once inside his cabin, Matt first put extra wood in his heating stove. That would warm things up soon. He was too tired to get completely undressed and go to bed so he simply took off his snowshoes and boots and coat, lay down on a thick rug in front of the stove, pulled a blanket around him, and promptly went to sleep.

Sometime during the night the wind came up with gale force. Matt heard it howling around his cabin, but he went right back to sleep until the sky began to get light outside his window. He'd turned his cell phone off so he wouldn't be disturbed that night, even though he knew the sheriff probably would be calling him. Well, he'd done his job. Done what the sheriff wanted him to do. Bill Clanin could leave a message if he felt the need to do so. Matt didn't much care if he did or not. Actually preferred that he didn't.

After Matt roused himself the next morning and had breakfast he checked his phone. The sheriff indeed had left a brief message: "Thanks, Matt. I hope you're all right. I'll call again." Yes, like it or not, Bill Clanin would call again.

Why couldn't Bill get the message that Matt wanted to be left alone? He'd helped get the woman and the pilot out of that airplane, and she was alive. They could get her to a hospital and she'd be all right. What difference did it make to anyone if he was all right or not?

Matt watched the snow, now being whipped into ever-deepening drifts, from his window. This had, as forecast, developed into a powerful storm. In fact, Matt could only faintly make out the nearby garage where he'd parked his Jeep Wrangler and his Ford pickup for the duration of the storm. If visibility had been that poor yesterday, there would have been no way he'd have been able to find that airplane.

Maybe he should just call the sheriff and get it over with. Let him know that he was back in his cabin, and hope that would be the end of it. With a shake of his head and a sigh, Matt dialed Bill Clanin's number.

To Matt's relief, the sheriff's phone was busy. Good. He'd simply leave a message: "I got your message, Bill. I'm okay. Goodbye." What else was there to say, anyway? The woman would be okay. She might have bruises and some frostbite injuries and a cut on her head, but she'd be okay if there wasn't any spinal damage. Actually, she was lucky to have survived at all. There was nothing he or anyone else could have done for the pilot.

There, he'd made the call, done what was expected of him. That seemingly necessary but nevertheless unwelcome task completed, Matt poured another cup of coffee and sat by his window, withdrawing into himself and watching the wind-blown snow continuing to isolate him from a world he wanted nothing to do with.

* * * * *

Two days after it had stopped snowing, the county snowplow cleared the road leading to Matt's cabin and Matt drove into town to shop at the hardware store. There he purchased some electrical supplies so that he could continue to work on the interior of his cabin.

There was a cafe where Matt especially enjoyed eating when he was in town, a relatively small diner named Tyler's Diner. He'd made friends with the manager and owner, Tyler Baymont, a man who was always friendly and pleasant to encounter, when he'd first moved into the area. And, when Tyler had been ready to renovate the diner, Matt had helped him with the necessary finances to do so.

Furthermore, Matt liked the fact that Tyler seemed to make it a point to hire students from the local college as waitresses and waiters, and especially those young people from poor families who were working their way through school. Two of the girls working there now, Marjorie and Brenda, were cheerful and energetic--the kind of people Matt hoped would stay in school and do well. Tyler worked their work schedules around their class schedules and exam schedules, and the girls were always there at work when they said they would be. Both Tyler and Matt appreciated their work ethic. For his part, Matt made it a point to leave a generous but anonymous gift for those students with Tyler in addition to a tip for his waiter or waitress during each visit.

Tyler had encouraged Matt to let him introduce him to the students Matt was helping with college expenses, but Matt said no. He preferred to give gifts like those anonymously. People had been kind to him when he was a college student; it was time for him to return the favors. He was pleased that he could do so.

The moment Matt entered the cafe that day, Tyler came over to the booth where he was sitting. "Come over here, Matt," he said. "There's someone new working for me, and I'd like for you to meet her."

"Okay." Matt got up and followed Tyler to his office, where a young woman Matt had never seen before was seated.

"Diane, this is Matt Davis," Tyler began. He turned to Matt. "Diane's just out of the service, and she's going to be my bookkeeper."

Diane stood up. "Hi, Matt," she greeted him, then introduced herself. "I'm Diane Thomas."

Matt smiled. "I'm pleased to meet you, Diane." He turned to Tyler. "I'll ask you both to join me, if you wish, and I'll treat you to lunch."

"Sure."

Moments after the three were seated, Tyler's phone rang. He got up to answer it and walked to his office. Matt turned to Diane. "So, tell me about yourself," he invited.

"Mr. Baymont has been so good to me," Diane responded. "You see . . . well, I was afraid . . . afraid that nobody would hire me . . . not with an artificial hand." She raised her right hand.

"Service injury?" Matt asked.

"Yes."

"We all have service injuries of one sort or another," Matt replied, "and I'd agree, Tyler is a really good man."

"He's told me a little about you," Diane responded. "Said he wanted me to meet you."

"You'll be keeping the books for Tyler's Diner?" Matt asked, changing the direction of the conversation, not wanting to talk about himself just then.

"Yes," Diane responded. "You see I have a two-year degree in business administration, and I'd like to go back to school and finish a four-year program."

"Good for you," Matt responded. "Tyler will help you do that." While he didn't say so, Matt would help her, too.

"Oh, yes!" Diane exclaimed. "He's already helped me a whole lot. You see, I needed--well, everything. Tyler loaned me a car, and he helped me find an apartment not far from the diner here. I'll be moving into it this weekend."

Tyler returned, and the three of them ordered lunch. Once they finished eating and Matt was about to leave, he told Diane that he'd enjoyed meeting her and would look forward to seeing her again.

Diane smiled. "I hope I'll be seeing you again," she said. She meant it, too. Although she couldn't just say so at the moment, Matt was a man she would really like to get acquainted with. He hadn't seemed to mind at all that one of her hands was artificial.

Marjorie and Brenda, the college students Matt thought highly of, had been working that day, Marjorie waiting on the booths and tables, and Brenda waiting the counter customers. Before Matt left the diner, he slipped two envelopes containing cash to Tyler, one for each of the girls. That cash would help with their college expenses.

* * * * *

DING! DING! DING! . . . DING! DING! DING! . . . DING! DING! DING!

It was early one morning about a week after Matt had been called upon to search for the downed airplane that his telephone rang.

With great reluctance, knowing who probably was calling, Matt answered: "Hello?"

"Matt, Bill Clanin here." The sheriff's voice was strong, upbeat, almost cheerful. Something was on his mind. Something that would involve Matt. Interrupt his solitude. Of that, Matt had no doubt. Well, he'd get it over with.

"Um-hmm?"

"I've got a young woman here with me who wants me to bring her out to see you," the sheriff declared. "How are the roads up your way?"

Matt wasn't about to encourage that visit. "The snowplow cleared the roads, including my lane, several days ago."

"So the roads are okay?" The sheriff questioned.

"Yes, the roads are okay, but Bill?"

""What's that, Matt?"

He'd try again to discourage this visit. "If this young woman is Kimberli wanting to thank me, just tell her she's welcome and--"

"Matt," the sheriff interrupted, "there's no way I can do what you're suggesting. You see, she wants to see you, to see you in person, and she's just as headstrong as I am. Maybe that's because she's my daughter."

"Kimberli is your daughter?"

"That's right, Matt," Bill Clanin replied. "Kimberli is my daughter. Now, how about if we come out early this afternoon?"

Matt knew when he was licked. "Okay, I guess."

"We'll see you then." The sheriff hung up before Matt could protest again. Not that it would have done any good to protest. Bill Clanin did pretty much what he wanted to do.

So, anyway, Matt now knew that Kimberli was Bill Clanin's daughter. That's why the sheriff had been so upset when he called Matt about the downed plane. And the pilot? He must have been Kimberli's husband. Well, it had been bad enough for him to lose Allene, and it must have been equally horrible for Kimberli to lose her husband that way.

* * * * *

Matt watched from his window while Bill Clanin's big white, four-wheel-drive, crew-cab Chevy pickup with OMAHA COUNTY SHERIFF lettered prominently on the side in bold black letters pulled into his lane and stopped in front of his cabin. When Bill helped Kimberli climb down out of the pickup, Matt noticed that she still had bandages on her left hand. He could just make out where the stitches had been on her forehead. And her face still was a motley black and blue with bruises. Furthermore, she walked with a slight limp, favoring her left foot. Frostbite damage to her foot, he guessed. Moments later, he opened the door to them.

Kimberli looked up at Matt as she stood framed in the open doorway, and her whole face brightened with a warm, radiant smile. Before he could so much as say a word of greeting, she threw her arms around him and hugged him just as tight as she could. Matt hugged her awkwardly in return. It was the first time that anyone had hugged hm since Allene died.

When Kimberli looked up into Matt's face moments later, there were tears of happiness in her big brown eyes. "Dad was right," she breathed. "You are a big guy. How tall are you, anyway?"

"Six-four."

"Wow! Dad's six-two, and I thought he was a big man!"

Kimberli clung tightly to Matt for a few moments, then gave him a final tight squeeze before she backed away slightly. Right then she couldn't bring herself to tell him that he was the most wonderful and handsome man she'd ever seen. Behind them, Sheriff Bill Clanin grinned as he shut the door.

"I never thought I'd have company here, so I only have two chairs." Matt apologized for his lack of chairs as he motioned to his recliner and then to the straight-backed chair at the small table that served both as his desk and dining area. "Let me have your coats, and you grab the chairs. I'll sit over here on the window ledge."

Bill helped Kimberli out of her coat, then slipped out of his and handed the coats to Matt. He put them on his bed. That done, he put another piece of firewood in his heating stove. His guests settled comfortably into the chairs.

"First off," Kimberli said, her brown eyes glistening with liquid warmth, "I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for what you did for me."

"And a big 'thank you' from me, too," Bill added. "I told you some time ago that I might have need of you out here in the mountains–and I sure did. You got my little girl out of that wrecked airplane, and we're both mighty grateful."

"You're both welcome. Glad I could help." Matt sat down on the window ledge, then turned to Kimberli. "I see you're still wearing some bandages. How are you doing, anyway?"

"All things considered, I'm doing great, thanks to you, big guy. Oh, I lost part of my little finger, just the tip, really." She held up her bandaged left hand, grinned impishly, and made an attempt to wiggle her fingers.

"Frostbite?"

"Yes. I had some frostbite on my left foot, too, and the cut on my head is going to leave a slight scar. You can see where the stitches were. But hey, all these things are minor! The good news is, I'm alive–thanks to you!"

"Severe frostbite really hurts. I'm sorry we weren't able to get to you earlier," Matt responded. He was well acquainted with frostbite injuries from his years in the service.

"Yes, it did hurt really bad, but there at the hospital they got me on pain killers as well as antibiotics to ward off any infection. All in all, it certainly was a horrible experience, but despite everything, I'm just awfully glad to be alive."

Matt nodded his agreement. "I'm glad you're alive, too, but I am real sorry about your husband."

"My . . . My husband?" Kimberli questioned, but I . . . I don't . . . Oh, you're thinking that Cameron, the pilot, was my husband. I'm sorry about him, too, but he wasn't my husband."

"Your boyfriend or fiancé then?"

"No. No. No. No. Nothing like that. Cameron was a classmate of mine when I went to graduate school. We're both social workers. Well, were. The difference between us is that Cameron elected to go into private practice with a psychiatrist. He made a fortune working with the social elite of the community. Me, I work with the destitute and homeless in a little rescue mission.

"Cameron never understood why I should spend my time working at that rescue mission when I could be working with wealthy clients and making lots and lots of money like he did," Kimberli continued. "Well, I'm probably telling you more than you want to know, but we were on our way back east to a convention for social workers. Cameron was a pilot and owned his own plane, so he offered to fly me to the meeting with him. It was a generous offer because otherwise I couldn't have afforded to go. Obviously, we never made it."

"I see. What happened up there before the crash?"

"Cameron had a heart attack," Kimberli said. "The autopsy confirmed it. I knew something was going wrong, but there wasn't anything I could do about it--and I had no idea of how to fly the airplane. We were fortunate that he managed to get the airplane down without crashing head first into the mountain."

Matt nodded his understanding. "A heart attack? I see. Yes, the clearing where you crash-landed was about the best place for you for miles around. There aren't many places in those mountains where a helicopter could land so easily to pick you up."

"Boy, that's the truth," Bill interjected.

"Matt?" Kimberli's voice was serious, her eyes focused on his.

"Um-hmm?"

"Is it okay if I call you 'Matt?' And you'll call me 'Kimberli?' Will that be okay?"

"Um-hmm."

"Okay, Matt. There's something you and me need to talk about, close-up and personal."

Matt had not really looked closely at Kimberli before. Now he saw the intensity in her eyes. Kimberli was very, very serious. "Okay."

Kimberli quickly got to her feet and pushed her chair over to where Matt was sitting on the window ledge, then sat down and faced him. "You may hate me forever more, Matt, but I've got to say something to you."

The flicker of a smile crossed Matt's face. "No, Kimberli, I won't hate you forever more. I promise. What's on your mind?"

"I hope you won't hate me," Kimberli began, "because I really, really do like you. Just the other day, I . . . I thought I was as good as dead and I was praying for God's mercy, but when you arrived and called my name, I . . . I somehow just knew everything was going to be all right." Kimberli reached out and grabbed Matt's big, rough hand with both of hers. "You didn't know I could see you, but I could just a little 'cause my eye wasn't swollen completely shut, and . . . and when I . . . when I saw your wonderful face, I . . . I just trusted you completely." Kimberli paused a moment and wiped a tear from her eye. "You gave me that hand warmer and wrapped those coats and that blanket around me and . . . and I felt so much . . . so much better. You . . . You didn't think I knew what was going on, but I did." Her beautiful brown eyes, now focused on Matt's, were as warm and loving as Kimberli's voice was serious.

"Well, I'm certainly glad we were able to make you more comfortable and then get you out of there." It wasn't a great response and Matt knew it, but he couldn't think of a better one. Why couldn't people just leave him alone?

"But then after you'd helped me so much . . . then you said something that just . . . just cut me like a knife." Tears welled up in Kimberli's eyes as she hurriedly continued, ignoring Matt's response. "After you guys got me into the helicopter, one of the EMTs asked if you'd like to go into town with them, with us, to wait out the storm, and you said 'no.' Okay. I can understand that. But then he asked if you were going to be all right out there in the storm–and you . . . you said . . . you said it didn't make any difference to anyone." Kimberli retrieved a tissue from her purse and wiped big tears away from her eyes. "What . . . What you said just . . . just cut through me like somebody had stabbed me with a knife. I mean, here you just risked your life out in that storm to save mine and then you turn around and say your life doesn't make any difference to anyone."

"Sorry, I didn't--"

"Matt?" Kimberli interrupted. "You're . . . You're sure it's okay if I call you Matt?"

"Sure. It's okay."

"I don't want you to feel sorry for what you said, but there are so many things I want to say to you," Kimberli continued. "You see, I know that you had a terrible personal heartbreak that brought you out to these mountains to get away from people, but don't you see how God worked to get you here so you could be near me when I desperately needed you to . . . to save my life?

"If . . . If you hadn't moved out here when you did, I'd . . . I'd be dead." Kimberli's words tumbled out. "Matt, I'm a social worker," she continued, brushing tears from her eyes as she spoke. "I work with people with all kinds of serious hurts and problems every day, so I'm well acquainted with every kind of heartache there is. And I'm also a Christian. I believe God puts us where he wants us to serve Him, to help people in need–like you helped me. He wasn't ready to take me to Heaven, so He put you right here to rescue me, and I'm . . . I'm so glad He did." She squeezed Matt's hand tightly, not wanting to offend him, but hoping with all her heart that he'd listen to what she had to say.

For the first time in the months since Allene died, a tear crept into Matt's eyes. He brushed it away with his sleeve before anyone could notice–he thought.

"Matt, I don't want you to go through life thinking your life doesn't make any difference to anyone because it does," Kimberli continued. "Because of the fact that you are here, I'm here. I've been praying for you every day since we met, and I'll help you overcome the hurt in your heart and those terrible feelings about yourself if you'll let me."

"Kimberli, you're very kind--"

"I won't take 'no' for an answer, either. Dad told you I was stubborn, and he's absolutely right. I got it from him, and my Dad's the most stubborn guy in the world." Kimberli hesitated and tried to smile at the reference to her father. "I . . . I'm kind of teasing about Dad," she added, "but Matt, I want you to know that God didn't intend for us to live with terrible hurt in our lives, and believe me, I know all about hurt."

"You do? You know all about hurt?" How could this pretty girl with the beautiful brown eyes know anything about hurt? Not like his hurt.

"Matt, look at me." Kimberli's voice was a husky whisper. "I'm tall for a girl, and I'm skinny, and okay, I'm ugly. Always have been. Always will be. When I was a kid, the other kids called me a 'beanpole' or a 'fence post' or something worse. Nobody wanted me for a friend. They called me a 'bookworm' and an 'egghead' because I liked to read and study. But I had two great things going for me–Jesus and Dad. Jesus was my spiritual friend, and Dad took me camping in these very same mountains and taught me how to pitch a tent and build a fire and do all the other things you do when you camp out in the wilderness. We fished in the streams, too, and Dad taught me how to cook the fish we caught." Kimberli smiled as she hesitated. "Maybe . . . Maybe you'll let me cook you a fresh fish dinner sometime."

Matt had to smile at her in response. "Sure. I'd like that."

"Anyway," Kimberli continued, her voice now serious again, "I want to be your friend, and I hope you'll be mine. If you'll let me, I'll be the best friend this ugly ol' beanpole can be."

"Kimberli, thank you, and believe me, I don't think you're ugly." Matt looked at her for a long moment, not sure if he should say what he was thinking, then decided to go ahead. "As a matter of fact, Kimberli, I think you're beautiful, but I'm not worth wasting your time on because my scars are just too deep. There must be other people who--"

"Nonsense! I don't believe it! I won't hear it!" Kimberli's eyes flashed as she interrupted Matt, and then her voice softened. "Um, Matt?"

"Um-hmm?"

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

Matt sighed. This girl was stubborn, just like her father! He'd only met her a few days ago under most unusual and difficult circumstances, and here he was about to share his most terrible hurts with her. "Well, okay, if you insist, but I suppose it's an old, old story and you've heard it many times before. You see, I had a girlfriend once." Matt paused and Kimberli wasn't sure he was going to continue, but she waited patiently and he did. "You remind me of her in one way, well maybe in several ways, but one way in particular."

"How's that?"

"She was a Christian, like you. At least, I think you're a Christian from the things you said. Am I right?"

"Yes, I am a Christian, and I'm really glad your girlfriend was a Christian, too. But something terrible happened, didn't it?"

"Her name was Allene. We both were in the service and we planned to be married as soon as our tours of duty were over."

Kimberli leaned toward Matt, her intense eyes now focused on his face. "What happened, Matt?"

"She was a helicopter door-gunner. Five days before she was due to leave the Middle East, her helicopter was shot down. I was just out of the service when I learned about her being injured, and I made it to the hospital where she was as fast as I could. But I never got to see her alive, because I got to her room about ten minutes after she died."

"I'm sorry. I really am."

Matt wiped tears from his eyes with his sleeve. "So that was that and now you know," he continued, "and to tell you the truth, I didn't much even want to go on living. Some of my buddies found out what happened to Allene and they came around and took care of me. They watched me every minute, or I probably wouldn't be here today. Anyway, I sold the house and furnishings we'd just purchased and came out here to forget everything, and I guess you know the rest of the story."

Kimberli's eyes were wet with tears. "Oh, Matt?"

"Um-hmm?"

"I'm so sorry. You really must have loved Allene."

"I sure did, and her death really knocked the props out from under me."

"You said Allene was a Christian, and I'm so glad she was because she's now in Heaven. Are you a Christian?"

"Well, er, ah," Matt stammered.

Kimberli had her answer, but she wouldn't press the issue. Not just now. "Matt?"

"Um-hmm?"

"Jesus loves you and He wants you for His very own. That's what being a Christian means."

"Allene used to say that, too, but after she died, well, I guess I didn't much care about Jesus or God or anything else religious. All I wanted was to be left alone"

"Believe me, Matt, I can understand that feeling very well."

"You can?"

"Yep, Matt, I sure can. You see, Dad and I know all about hurt. Dad lost his wife and I lost my wonderful mom when I was just six years old."

"I didn't know that," Matt mumbled. "I'm sorry."

"I was just six years old. It was absolutely horrible for me," Kimberli continued. "Well, it was absolutely horrible for both of us. I just couldn't understand why she didn't come home. You see, Mom just disappeared, and--"

Bill cleared his throat, interrupting Kimberli. "Rose, my wife and Kimberli's mother, 'Rosie,' we called her, was abducted and murdered," the sheriff whispered, his husky voice tight with emotion.

"She was abducted and murdered?" Matt asked.

"Yep. Right here in these mountains, not all that far to the west of you here. Oh, I can't prove she was murdered, but I'm absolutely sure of it. And I know who killed her, too, but I can't prove that part either. The worst part of it is we never did find her body, so we couldn't even have a funeral or give her a proper burial, or even be absolutely certain she was dead."

Matt sat thinking. If Kimberli was six when her mother disappeared that meant her mother, Rose, was killed about 30 or 35 years ago.

"You say she was killed somewhere in these mountains?" Matt asked.

"Yep, most likely somewhere not too far to the west of here," Bill repeated. "And I can tell you why she was killed."

"Why?"

"He or they did it to intimidate me, to make me back off of a particular criminal investigation. They threatened to get Kimberli, too. It wasn't an overt threat, of course, but it was obvious they'd try to get her too, beat her up or maybe kill her, and she was just a little child. I worried every day that she might disappear like Rosie did."

"But I'll bet you didn't back off from the investigation."

"Nope. The two of 'em I know were involved with Rosie's disappearance went to prison on various charges. One of 'em died a few years ago, but the other one, a guy named Richard Aramas, is still locked up. He's gonna be gettin' out soon, though, and I'll still stick him on a murder charge and send him back to prison if I can."

"Is this guy, this Richard Aramas, who'll soon be out of prison, going to cause problems for you or for Kimberli?" Matt asked.

"It's hard to tell. He made threats to the effect that he was going to get both Kimberli and me when he got out, but then half of the thugs I've put away threatened that. And a couple of thugs did beat up Kimberli a few years ago, trying to send me a message. It's something a cop and his family has to live with. Anyway, I told Aramas that he'd have to get in line to get me, 'cause there were a whole bunch of guys ahead of him who wanted me dead and some of 'em were tougher and meaner than he was.

"The worst part of it was how Aramas taunted me," the sheriff continued. "'Where's your wife?' He'd sneer. 'Where's Rosie?' It was as if he knew exactly where her body was but he wouldn't let me know. He knew that not being able to give my wife a proper burial really bothered me. Oh, she was a Christian so I knew that her soul was in Heaven, but I still wanted to bury her earthly remains, and Aramas knew that. Of course, he denied knowing anything about her disappearance, but I know that he was involved and that he knows where she is."

"Richard Aramas?" Matt repeated the man's name. "Have you got a current picture of this guy?"

"Yep." The sheriff withdrew a photograph from his wallet and handed it to Matt. "I got updated photos of Aramas once a year while he was in prison. This one's about a year old. They'll send me a new one when he's released."

"He knows these mountains, then?"

"Yep. He knows these mountains very well. Be wary, Matt," the sheriff cautioned. "You just might see him around out here some time."

Matt studied the photograph, memorizing the man's major features, then handed it back to Bill. "So Rose disappeared in the mountains to the west of here, am I right?" he asked..

"Right. The three of us were camping. Rosie stayed at our camp while Kimberli and I went fishing. When we came back, Rosie was nowhere to be found. We searched for her for a long time, but we never found her–or her body."

"You think her killer kidnaped her at your camp, then took her somewhere and killed her and hid her body?" Matt asked.

"Yep. There's no way he could have got her out of the area alive without us finding some trace. He would have had to hike out with her through the thick brush because you can't get a vehicle of any kind in there where we were. And we had some of the best trackers in the area helping us look for her. We couldn't find a thing."

"So you think he buried her or hid her body somewhere in those mountains, probably not all that far from where you were camping?"

"Yep."

Rose Clanin . . . "RC." Matt closed his eyes and sat thinking for several moments. "Hmm. Do you remember what Rose was wearing when she disappeared?"

"What she was wearing?" The sheriff repeated Matt's question. "I remember exactly what she was wearing."

"Okay. Tell me what she was wearing."

"Rose Kimberli was a genuine cowgirl who grew up on a ranch and learned to ride horses when she was just a kid. Kimberli here was named for her." Bill motioned toward Kimberli, then continued, describing how Rose was dressed that day. "She mostly wore Western-style blue jeans, a denim shirt, and a yellow scarf. We were camping when she disappeared so she was wearing hiking boots instead of her usual cowgirl boots." Bill paused, withdrew his wallet from his hip pocket, and removed a small color photograph. "Here, I'll show you what she looked like back then." He handed the slightly faded photo to Matt.

Matt studied the photograph of the pretty young woman, Bill's wife. She was holding a string of fish, but he could see that she indeed was dressed in jeans, a denim shirt, and scarf, exactly as her husband had described her. A quick glance at Kimberli assured Matt of the family resemblance. Rose, in this picture, and her daughter today were almost identical in size and facial features. Both, Matt thought, were simply beautiful. Tall, slender--beautiful.

"This was taken less than two weeks before Rosie was kidnapped and murdered." Bill interjected. "We were on one of our camping trips, in the same general area where she disappeared. She loved to fish, and she'd just caught those fish."

Because the string of fish actually obscured the part of Rosie's attire that especially interested Matt, there was one question he had yet to ask: "Was she wearing a belt?"

"Yes. You can't see it very well on that photograph, but it was a Western-style leather belt with a big buckle."

"What kind of a buckle?"

Kimberli's eyes flickered between her dad's and Matt's as she wondered exactly what Matt was getting at with his pointed questions.

"What kind of a buckle was she wearing on her belt?" Bill thoughtfully repeated Matt's question and thought for a moment before he answered. "It was a big, silver, Western-style buckle."

"What kind of a decoration was on that buckle?"

Bill studied Matt's face. He, too, was wondering exactly where this conversation was going. "A galloping horse," he replied. "Rosie liked horses," the sheriff added, by way of explanation.

Matt got up. "I've got something I want to show you."

As Matt walked to a cabinet in the far corner of his cabin and began to search through it, Kimberli glanced inquisitively about the cabin interior, admiring the interior paneling and evident master workmanship. Matt certainly had done an exceptional construction job, and he obviously took excellent care of his living quarters. She'd have to ask him where he learned to do such good construction work, a quality of construction that she wasn't used to seeing in the part of town where she worked at the rescue mission. In fact, most of the housing in that area looked as if it had been thrown together and might fall apart in the first high wind. In fact, one of the houses near the rescue mission had partially collapsed in a hail storm a few years ago.

A large bookshelf filled with books occupied a corner of Matt's cabin. Maybe he was a bookworm, too, she reasoned. Kimberli would ask him about his interests. There was a computer on the table he used for a desk. And then she spotted the guitar standing behind Matt's bed. Oh, my! "Do you suppose Matt plays that guitar?" she asked herself. "Does he sing, too?" There were so many things Kimberli wanted to ask Matt!

Several things that were lacking in Matt's cabin also favorably impressed Kimberli. There were no liquor bottles sitting around, nor were there any tobacco products or ashtrays within her view. Many if not most of the people she worked with had problems with alcohol or drugs, and while many people turned to drinking to forget their problems, she certainly hoped that Matt didn't use either alcohol or drugs or tobacco. Yes, there were so many, many things she wanted to talk about with him.

Moments later, Matt returned to where his guests were seated. He was holding an object in his hand, an object which he immediately handed to the sheriff. "Recognize this, Bill?" he asked.
CHAPTER 3

Sheriff Bill Clanin almost leapt from his chair when he saw the silver belt buckle in Matt's hand. "Do I recognize this?" he breathed, his eyes wild with excitement. "You can bet I do!" He turned the buckle over and over in his hand, examining it closely as he did so. "See here! Right here!" He pointed to a tiny, five-pointed star surrounding the initials "RC" that had been worked into a corner of the design. "Those initials stand for 'Rose Clanin' and the star was a trademark of the man who made that buckle."

The initials "RC" on that buckle had been the giveaway to Matt that it probably once belonged to Rose Clanin, those initials and the galloping horse motif, and he'd been absolutely right. What else of hers might remain as clues to her disappearance he could only guess.

Kimberli quickly came to look over her dad's shoulder at the silver buckle. "Oh, Dad! Are . . . Are you sure that's--"

"It's Rosie's, all right," Bill interrupted. "I'd recognize it anywhere. Those letters have to be her initials." He turned to Matt. "Where on earth did you find this?"

"There's a stream over west of here where I did some panning for gold last summer," Matt replied. "I found the buckle in the stream bed."

"I want you to take me there just as soon as the snow melts, okay?" Bill said as he turned the buckle over and over again in his hands. "I want you to show me exactly where you found this." He had a faraway look in his eyes as if he were recalling that last camping trip with Rosie and Kimberli.

"And I'm going with you!" Kimberli broke in excitedly before Matt had a chance to respond.

"I'll be happy to take both of you to where I found the buckle," Matt replied, "but I've been thinking about something you said earlier. It would be hard to dig even a shallow grave around that part of the mountain because it's mostly hard rock and there's not a lot of soil. You know where I'd hide a body around where I found that buckle if I killed somebody and wanted to make the body disappear--at least for a time?"

"Where?" Both Bill and Kimberli asked at the same time, eyes focused intently on Matt.

"The stream where I pan for gold has a very steep bank to either side," Matt replied. "In fact, there's a nearly sheer cliff, maybe 200 feet high or more, above the spot where I found the buckle. Now, about half way up that bank, maybe more, there are some small caves. They aren't very noticeable except when the sun is in the right position because they've got quite a bit of brush around them, but I've seen them. I don't know how deep they are or anything else about them, but I'd sure check them out if I wanted to get rid of something like a human body."

Bill frowned. "I've never known about any caves along that stream," the sheriff stated, his voice flat.

"No, probably very few people do know about them. They appear to be shallow and aren't at all noticeable unless you've been in that stream bed when the sun was at exactly the right angle," Matt explained. "Like I said, they've got a lot of brush around them. And, Bill, I have no idea if anyone actually would have hidden anything in them, but I'm just enough of a treasure hunter to want to find out."

Bill squinted. "You said those caves are half way up a steep bank. How hard would it be to get to them?"

"It wouldn't be hard, not with the right equipment," Matt responded. "We could get the right gear together and climb down to them from above the bank."

"Hmmm! Kimberli and I did a little mountain climbing when she was a kid," the sheriff mused, "and I'll bet we can still climb down a rope or a rope ladder."

"I know we can, Dad," Kimberli agreed, "and I'll bet Matt will help us explore those caves, won't you Matt?"

"Sure, I'll help you, but let's not get our hopes up," Matt cautioned. "I doubt that wild animals could get in there, but if somebody hid a body in one of those caves 30 or 35 years ago, there may not be anything of it remaining there now."

"I know that," Bill whispered excitedly, "but this buckle is the only lead we've ever had as to Rosie's whereabouts, and now we've got to check out those caves. Umm, Matt?"

"Um-hmm?"

"Bill held up the buckle. "This buckle was Rosie's, and it means a lot to me. Can I . . . er . . . May I take it with me? I'll pay you for it."

Matt nodded. "Sure, take it with you, and you don't have to pay me anything. Consider it yours."

"Thanks. Oh, by the way?" Bill cocked his head as he looked at Matt.

"Um-hmm?

"You said you found the buckle while you were panning for gold."

"Right."

"Did you actually find any gold in that stream?"

Matt smiled faintly. The guy was nosy. "A little," he said.

"Enough so you'll want to go back to that same spot this spring once the weather clears?"

The sheriff didn't need to know exactly how much gold Matt had found there or how much he thought might still be there. Nobody needed to know. "Yep."

"Matt?" Kimberli spoke up, her tone now insistent.

"Um-hmm?"

"Come with me." Kimberli reached out, took Matt's arm, and led him back to his seat on the window ledge while she sat down close by and facing him in her chair. "We're going to have to be going soon, Matt, and I've still got some things I want to say to you."

"Okay." He did like looking at her. Take away those bruises and she was a pretty girl. And some kids had actually called her ugly! What nonsense! They probably were simply jealous of her good looks and smarts, jealous as all get out. Maybe some day he'd feel comfortable enough with her to tell her so. Then again, he might never see her again. So be it.

"Let me say once again," Kimberli began, "just how truly thankful I am that you found me and helped me out of that wrecked airplane, and how I so much have enjoyed meeting you today."

Matt nodded his understanding. "I'm glad. I've enjoyed meeting you, too." He was beginning to mean that, too, but he knew she'd be leaving soon and he'd never see her again, so he wasn't about to get too enthusiastic.

"And I really do like you, Matt," Kimberli continued, "and I will pray for you, and I want you to be happy, and I want you to know Jesus as your Savior." Tears crept into Kimberli's warm brown eyes as the words tumbled out. "I don't want to sound pushy or forward, but is it okay if I . . . well, may I . . . may I call you on the phone sometime, just . . . just to talk with you?"

"Sure. You're welcome to call any time if you want to." Matt wasn't sure he really meant that, but he had to say it. But then, he doubted that she would call. After all was said and done, why would she?

"Thank you. I . . . I honestly didn't know. Dad says you don't like to be bothered with telephone calls."

"I guess that's right, but it's okay if you call, if you really want to. You and your dad are the only people who know my phone number." Matt hoped he could keep it that way.

"Oh, Matt, I sure do want to keep in touch with you. When I saw your face out there with me in that airplane, you had the most wonderful glow about you. At first, I thought you were an angel. I just knew God had sent you to help me. And . . . And . . . And . . . ." Kimberli's words trailed off as she wiped at her eyes and whispered to herself what she couldn't bring herself to say aloud to Matt just then: And I already love you, and I want you to love me, too!

"You'll be going back home soon, back home to work, won't you, Kimberli?" Matt asked.

"Yes, I'll be going home and back to work tomorrow, but I'll still find time to pray for you and to call you, and when I'm back out here, I'll really want to see you again," Kimberli replied. "Telephones are nice, but I really want to talk to you again in . . . in person."

Matt didn't want the time with Kimberli to end on a tearful note. "And maybe you'll cook up some fish for all of us?" he asked.

Kimberli's face brightened immediately. "You bet I will. We'll go fishing next spring, and I'll help you catch 'em. I'd really like that. Once we've caught 'em, I'll cook 'em."

While Kimberli and Matt finished talking, Bill quietly retrieved his and Kimberli's coats. "We gotta be going, honey," he told her, while helping her on with her coat.

The moment Matt stood up, Kimberli grabbed him in a tight, lingering bear hug, her face pressed tight against his chest. He hugged her in return. And then she and her dad were gone.

* * * * *

Kimberli and her dad rode in silence for part of the way back to town. Finally, it was Kimberli who broke the silence, expressing what she'd been thinking the entire time since she'd first laid eyes on Matt Davis. "He's a wonderful man." What she didn't dare add to her dad just then, she said to herself: I wish he were mine.

Bill looked over at her and smiled. "I told you I'd found a real man for my little girl. Now, what you do with him is up to you."

* * * * *

Matt sat at his cabin window for a long time after Bill and Kimberli had departed, gazing down the lane that led from his cabin to the main road. "Well," he finally whispered aloud to himself, "I might wish it weren't, but I guess that's all over."

For all of Kimberli's promises to keep in touch with him, he understood that she probably wouldn't. And why should she, anyway? She'd be back at work in the big city, several hours away from here, within a day or so, and the routines and pressures of her job would take over her time and her interests. Regardless of how she felt now, her interest in him would quickly fade away. She'd have a tremendous story to tell her coworkers about being rescued from that plane crash, of course, but that would be the end of it.

Still, he could hope. He had found Kimberli especially attractive. She'd said some people had called her ugly, but it absolutely wasn't so. She was, in fact, gorgeous, what with her silky brunette hair that reminded him of Allene's hair before she cut it short in the service, and big, expressive brown eyes, big, expressive, beautiful brown eyes. The ugly bruises would heal and as for the scar on her forehead, well, he had a few physical scars of his own as well as the emotional ones. Beyond being physically attractive, she obviously was smart and well educated, and so unpretentious and honest. If ever he would consider another girl as a special friend, it would be someone just like her. Of course, under other circumstances, she probably wouldn't want anything to do with an ol' backwoods character like him. Still, he could hope. Maybe she really would call him. Maybe he really would see her again. Ha! Ha! Ha! Yeah, right! Maybe tomorrow the sun would come up in the West! Ha! Ha!

At least, he'd see her again when the snow melted next spring and Bill wanted to go out to explore those caves. She'd said she wanted to go along, and his guess was that nobody could keep her away. Matt wasn't sure they'd find anything in those caves, but they could look. Who could know what things someone might have hidden there.

It was unlikely that any wild animals could reach those caves. If somebody hid a body in one of them years ago, it still might be there. Decomposed, perhaps, but there.

Matt closed his eyes and sat there in his recliner, alone with his thoughts, for some time. When he next looked at his watch, it was after six o'clock. It was almost dark outside, and he was starting to get hungry. He chuckled to himself as he thought about that fish dinner Kimberli had promised to fix for him, then went about fixing dinner for himself. She'd forget about that fish dinner soon enough.

But wait. And what was he thinking, anyway, daydreaming about this girl? Even though–or, perhaps, because!--she worked in an inner-city rescue mission, Kimberli no doubt had a whole line of well-to-do suitors back in the city where she lived. After all, a wealthy pilot who owned his own airplane had offered to take her with him to a convention back east and she had accepted his invitation. No. No. No! Don't even think about her anymore, Matt. There simply was no way a beautiful, educated girl like her would want a reclusive ol' guy like him.

"Just let me live here in peace until I can forget the good times I had with Allene," Matt whispered to himself as he climbed into bed that night. "Just let me live out my life here in peace."

Before he turned in for the night, Matt checked the monitors for the surveillance cameras he'd set up around his cabin--a make-shift perimeter alarm system he'd set up when he first moved there. He'd keep a closer eye on those monitors now that there was the possibility that this Aramas character might be around.

He'd also placed motion detectors a little further out around his cabin and garage. They'd alert him if someone or a large animal was around. Little green lights flickered on the motion detector monitors. They'd flash orange if they detected anything, and "beep!" to alert him if they detected major motion.

Maybe he'd strengthen his security system even more next spring. Keep an eye on his property. Be alert to trouble.

Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary on the monitors. After checking to reassure himself that his pistol was fully loaded and placed under his pillow where he kept it at night, Matt quickly drifted off to sleep.

* * * * *

"You said you checked out Matt's background when he moved out here. What all do you know about him?" Kimberli asked her dad.

Bill smiled. "I know a lot about him. What would you like to know?"

"You said he actually rebuilt that cabin himself. Most of the guys I know in the city couldn't do something like that. It looks to me like Matt did a superb job on the part I saw."

"Yes, actually he's only rebuilt two or three rooms, depending on how you count 'em, and the garage so far. He likely will work on the other rooms next summer. Those are his plans, anyway. Of course, he had to rework the pump and the well and the plumbing and all the electrical wiring so he could live there in the winter. But I agree, he does exceptional work. He takes care of the place, too. I've only been inside there a few times, but that cabin has never been dirty or a mess when I've been in it."

"Isn't that something! Where did he learn to do such good construction work? Do you know?"

"Yep. Matt's dad was a carpenter. He built houses and did some fine cabinetmaking, too. From what I could gather, Matt worked with him from the time he was in the sixth grade until he went to college. Summers, too, while he was in college.

"Matt has his own power tools, too. He keeps them in his garage. I've seen him use them, and he's good with them."

"Matt did go to college, then?"

"Yes, he's a civil engineer. I checked that out, too. He graduated in the top ten percent of his class. And then he did some graduate studies, maybe in geology. I'm not sure about that. Some of those books you saw in his cabin are on engineering topics. In fact, I've suggested that he consider going to work for that consulting engineering firm that designs bridges and roads in the mountains around here. They're always advertising for engineers."

"Did he go for that idea?"

"Not really. He said he might consider it in the future, maybe on a part-time basis. To tell you the truth, I don't think Matt has to worry much about money."

"How so?"

"I'm doing a little guessing now, but I think Matt made some very good investments a few years ago. And he is a treasure hunter, how successful he is or has been, I really don't know. He's smart enough not to talk about his treasure hunting finds, but my guess is he's found some."

"Oh, my!" Kimberli exclaimed. "He is a multi-talented man. And where did Matt learn to pan for gold?"

"That I don't know. He's well educated and seems to know a lot of things, but where he learned to pan for gold I don't know." Bill chuckled. "Did you see how he answered me when I asked if he found enough gold in that stream to make it worth his while to go back?"

Kimberli giggled. "He said, 'Yep.'"

"Right. He didn't add anything to that, so my guess is he's found some gold. Certainly enough gold to make him want to go back and pan for more. Like I say, though, he's smart enough to keep what he's found to himself."

There were any number of things Kimberli wished she'd had the opportunity to ask Matt in person. She'd meant to ask about the guitar that was standing against the wall behind his bed. Did he play the guitar? Did he sing? Well, she was just going to have to call him and ask. Besides knowing all about this handsome, interesting man she'd met, she wanted to lead him to Jesus. That was uppermost in her mind. And she meant it when she told Matt that she would be his best friend if he'd let her.

Kimberli had to admit to herself that she didn't have very much experience with men as close friends. None of the boys in high school wanted to date an 'ugly ol' beanpole' as they'd called her when they weren't calling her worse things. She'd been so wrapped up in her studies at college that she hadn't had many dates there, either. And when she'd worked on her Master's Degree in Social Work, well, she'd been too busy with her studies and working part time to enjoy much of a social life. Oh, a few men had asked her out since college, but most of them were not the kind of men she wanted for a permanent relationship. They were guys she could watch a movie or a ball game with, but that was where the common interests usually ended.

Maybe having grown up with her dad's wonderful love and companionship had spoiled her, but Kimberli found herself comparing her men-friends to her dad, and most of them simply didn't measure up. Her dad had loved her, treated her with respect, taught her a whole host of skills, and took her with him to Sunday School and church every Sunday. No way was she going to settle for a lesser man than her dad, and she had a warm feeling that her dad was absolutely right when he told her he'd found a "real man" for his little girl. The big question in her mind was, would Matt want anything to do with her?

Well, Matt had said he didn't think she was ugly and he'd seen her at her worst, what with the terrible bruises on her face and the bandages on her forehead and hand. How she hoped Matt would want her as much as she wanted him. And she'd pray for him and talk to him about becoming a Christian. Yes! Yes, she would! Regardless of how her personal relationship with Matt developed, his becoming a Christian was extremely important to her. For Kimberli, Matt's becoming a Christian was rapidly becoming the most important thing in the whole world. In addition to Matt's accepting Jesus, of course, Kimberli hoped with all her heart that he'd accept her! If there was such a thing as love at first sight, she knew this was it!
CHAPTER 4

DING! DING! DING! . . . DING! DING! DING! . . . DING! DING! DING!

Matt wasn't fully awake the following morning when his cell phone rang. A glance at his watch indicated that it already was almost nine o'clock. He'd slept much later than usual and was just finishing his first cup of coffee--coffee he'd made the night before and reheated that morning.

"Hello."

"Matt?"

"Yep." The coffee was beginning to take hold now.

"Bill Clanin here."

"Good morning, Bill. What's going on?"

As usual, Bill got right to the reason for his call. "I've got a couple of fellows sitting in my office here. We're going to have some coffee and chat a bit. Then we're going to take a drive and we'll probably end up at your house in about an hour or so. You'll be home and expecting company around ten or ten-thirty, won't you?"

"Would it do any good if I said 'no?'"

The sheriff laughed. "Nope."

"Okay, Bill," Matt replied. "Thanks for cluing me in. I'll be here, but you'll have to remember one thing."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"As you well know, I have only two chairs. That means two of us will have to sit on the window ledge."

The sheriff chuckled again. "These guys don't care about things like that. We'll see you after while, probably closer to ten-thirty."

Somehow, Matt wished he'd never met Sheriff Bill Clanin, but then he would never have met Kimberli. For some reasons he didn't quite understand, Kimberli was becoming very important to him. Still, he hoped the sheriff wouldn't get into the habit of dropping in on him or bringing people out to his cabin. He'd moved out here because he wanted the solitude, and now that was being denied him. Important as Kimberli seemed to be to him, he had to realize that it was more likely than not that he would never hear from her or see her again. Maybe it would have been better if he'd never even met her.

Bill's white Chevy pickup pulled into Matt's lane at precisely ten-thirty. Matt watched from his window as the three men alighted from the truck and walked up the path toward his door. One of them was a stocky man of medium height with close-cut blonde hair. The other man was taller and thinner with red hair and a decidedly ruddy complexion.

Matt immediately recognized the stocky man with blonde hair, more by the way he walked than by his build or hair color. It was one of the EMTs who'd helped him get Kimberli out of that crashed airplane and onto the rescue chopper. Matt didn't know the other man who was with Bill. He didn't look like the other EMT.

"Hello, Matt. Remember me?" The stocky EMT asked, as he extended his hand the moment he stepped inside Matt's cabin.

"I sure do, but I don't know your name."

"Call me 'Dave.'"

The men shook hands. Dave's grasp was firm, as was Matt's.

"This is David Lee," Bill said, by way of a more formal introduction, "and he wears several different hats around the community."

"How so?"

"When you met him a few days ago, he was wearing his Emergency Medical Technician's hat. When he's not responding to some sort of accident or medical emergency, he wears a pastor's hat."

"A pastor's hat, eh?"

"Yes, he's the pastor at my church," Bill replied, proudly. "We call him 'Pastor Dave.' He was a chaplain in the service for a number of years before we called him to be our pastor, and I'm here to tell you that we got ourselves a tremendous pastor when we got Dave." Bill turned to the second man who'd come with them and introduced him to Matt: "This is Phillip Scott."

"Call me 'Phil,' okay?"

"Okay. I'm Matt."

Matt and Phillip Scott shook hands. Matt usually was quite reserved when he met people, but he found himself liking both of these men.

"Phil and Dave and another EMT, a guy named Robert Henderson, who couldn't come out with us today, all work together as a team," Bill continued. "Phil's the man who piloted the chopper that picked up Kimberli at that crash site. Of course, he wears several hats, too."

Matt took the men's coats and placed them on his bed, then directed the men to the two chairs and the window ledge. Once they were seated, he turned back to Phil. "Bill said you wear several hats. What do you do besides pilot the big chopper?"

"I'm a fireman, and I also direct the music at our church." Phil smiled warmly. "Dave's the pastor and I'm the music director, so we see quite a bit of each other."

"So you all attend the same church?"

"Right. Robert Henderson attends a different church, but he's a good guy, too, just the same." Phil chuckled at his joke. "In fact," he continued, his grin widening, "people sometimes refer to our rescue team as the 'God Squad' because we're all closely associated with a church in some way or another."

"Um-hmm. I see."

Bill turned to Matt. "I wanted you to meet these guys, Matt, because they're very important people in my life. We've worked together for a long time and in some hairy situations, and I trust 'em. They're great guys to know, and I'd trust 'em with my life."

Dave spoke up. "We're all very fond of Kimberli and we sure do thank you for going after her the other day. We know these mountains and we know that hiking through that snow wasn't easy, so we really appreciate what you did."

Phil nodded his agreement. "That's absolutely right. We've been out in some of the worst weather ourselves, so we really admired your willingness and ability to get out into the snow and help Kimberli." He hesitated a moment, then continued. "Bill said you had experience in the mountains of Afghanistan."

"Yes, there and in a couple of other mountainous trouble spots, too." Matt would be honest about his experiences, but he didn't want to get into telling war stories. "Where did you learn to fly choppers?" he asked Phil, redirecting the conversation.

"In the service. I was a Marine pilot. Actually, I've been flying airplanes since I was 14, but I never got my hands on a chopper until I joined the Marines. Once I did, though, I was hooked. I love flying 'em. Big ones or little ones, good weather or bad, I just love flying 'em."

"So the snow storm didn't keep you grounded?"

Phil chuckled. "No. Whenever there's bad weather and they need a chopper pilot and EMTs they call for me and Dave and Robert. I guess it's our own fault. We used to volunteer for the toughest assignments and now they call us first. Of course, being Christians, we do our best to help people, and let's face it, we like to challenge ourselves. We figure that's the way to get better at what we do."

"Well, you certainly handled the big bird like you knew what you were doing," Matt responded. "It was a pleasure to watch you set it down on that slope in that snow storm. Very professional."

"Thanks. You've probably seen a few choppers land in the snow before."

Matt grinned. "Yes. And I've been in 'em when they landed in snow storms about like that one, too. Some of 'em didn't land so nicely, either."

Before Phil could respond, Dave spoke up. "Matt?"

Matt turned toward Dave. "Um-hmm?"

"I'm pretty much a straight shooter, Matt," Dave began. "Some people don't like that about me, but that's the way I am. Bill tells me that you came out here into the mountains because you wanted to get away from some bad things that happened to you. We're interrupting your solitude, and we know it. The thing is, the reason we're here is, we love you, we know that God loves you, and we'd sure like to be your friends.

"Of course, being a pastor," Dave continued, "I'm going to invite you to attend our church. We're not a formal, high-powered church, because I'm more like a chaplain than a traditional preacher. I pray for these guys every day," Dave's blue eyes sparkled as he nodded in the direction of Bill and Phil, "and I'll pray for you, too."

As he spoke, Dave took out a business card and wrote something on the back. "Our church has a Sunday morning radio program," he continued. "I've written the station frequency and the time on my card." He handed the card to Matt. "Tune us in come next Sunday morning. There'll be some good music and I'll preach a short sermon. Whenever Kimberli is here on a Sunday we ask her to sing a solo for us, so you may hear her sing some Sunday morning. Other times, Phil or someone else sings. He directs our choir and every now and then they do some special music for us. I'm telling you this so you'll know that we have a variety of activities that we broadcast on our program, and we'd sure appreciate your tuning in. Tell us what you think of our program, too. We're always trying to make our services better."

Matt studied Dave's business card for a moment, then nodded. "Thank you. I'll tune in next Sunday morning." He took the card to where his radio was sitting on a small table near his bed and placed the card in front of it. Matt hadn't listened to much besides the weather reports and news on his radio for some time, but he'd give the Sunday morning program a listen. Knowing the guys who were involved would make it much more interesting.

While Dave had been talking with Matt, Phil had looked around the cabin and spotted Matt's guitar standing against the wall behind his bed. "Do you play that guitar, Matt?" he asked.

"Umm. Sometimes. . . . I used to play it a lot, but I . . . I guess I haven't played for some time, though, now." Although Matt wasn't going to get into whey he didn't play much these days, the truth was that it simply hadn't been much fun to play his guitar since Allene's death.

Phil ignored Matt's hesitation. "What kind of music do you like to play?"

"Hmmm. Let me see if I can find something," Matt said, as he got to his feet.

Matt went directly to a large wooden trunk that sat at the foot of his bed, opened it, and began to look through the contents. Moments later, he handed an audio cassette tape to Phil.

"What's this, Matt?"

"When I was in the service," Matt explained, "I got together a little band. There were four of us in the band, all Army Rangers. I played the guitar. The other guys played other instruments. All of us sang. We played and sang for the guys in my outfit every chance we got. Helped relieve the stress.

"Now about this particular tape: One time my girlfriend, Allene, was visiting us. She had a beautiful voice and the five of us put on a real show for the guys. It lasted about three hours. We played. She sang. That is, some of us guys sang a song or two as well, but mostly Allene sang." Matt paused, thinking of the good time they'd had that day. "That was a really happy time," he continued, just a hint of sadness creeping into his voice as he spoke, "and one of our buddies recorded us. We're on this tape."

Phil hesitated. "You must have another copy, don't you?"

Matt sighed. "No, this one's all I've got left."

"Man, this tape is special to you. I . . . I don't want to take your only copy. Something might happen to it and--"

"It's okay," Matt interrupted Phil. "I really can't listen to it anymore. You see, Allene's dead and . . . ." Matt shrugged as his voice trailed off.

"When did you learn to play the guitar, Matt?" Phil wanted to change the direction of this conversation.

Matt smiled. "I more or less taught myself when I was in high school," he replied, "and then when I was in college, I played with a group that mostly played for student organizations."

"Will you play something for us at church some time?" Dave asked.

"Oh, I really don't know any church songs," Matt protested. He'd wanted to be left alone, and now . . . .

"How about patriotic songs?" Phill broke into Matt's thoughts. "We use those all the time."

"Yes, I do know some patriotic songs," Matt replied. "Wait, well, I do know a church song or two that Allene taught me. They're . . . They're on that tape. She was a Christian, and . . . . Well, okay. Bill probably told you, but the reason I came out here to get away from everything is because Allene was killed just before we were going to be married. I hadn't ever wanted to tell anyone, but Kimberli insisted . . . and . . . well, now you all know. But as far as playing something for you, I'm afraid I'm way out of practice. Sometimes I strum the guitar just for me, because it makes me feel better, but . . . ."

"Tell you what," Dave broke into Matt's rambling thoughts. "We have what we call a 'Talent Night' every once in a while at our church. We've got some very talented people in our congregation who like to sing or play musical instruments or do a reading or something, and that's a fine time to showcase their talents. Why don't you practice up a bit and do a musical number for us one of these days? Oh, and by the way, we always have a fellowship time with food after the singing. It's a great time to meet people, visit, and eat. You'd want to stay for that."

Matt chuckled. "Oh, my! You're tempting me. Well, you'd better let Phil listen to that tape first before you ask something like that of me. Our group may sound like some terribly amateurish group to a real musician like him."

Bill was looking at his watch. "We've gotta go, guys," he said.

Dave and Phil stood up. The men shook hands all around. Suddenly, Dave threw his arms around Matt. "I'm real proud to have met you, Matt," he said, "and I'm gonna be praying for you every single day."

Matt hugged Dave back. "Thank you. I . . . I'm pleased to have met you, too. And . . . And thanks for . . . for your concern."

Phil, too, said that he was happy to have met Matt. "I'll be praying for you, too," he said.

"We'll be in touch, Matt," Bill said as they left. Matt was absolutely sure that would be the case.

Whether or not he wanted anyone to keep in touch with him, these guys would be in touch. He had a feeling that he could count on that, like it or not. It wasn't that he didn't like them or appreciate their concern, it just seemed like them being there stirred up a lot of old memories and feelings he'd just as soon forget.

Matt watched from his open door as the men hurried to the sheriff's pickup and climbed in. Although he knew they couldn't see him through the glass, Matt waved to them from his window as they pulled away.

Once the truck was out of sight, Matt sat back in his recliner and let the quietness settle into him while he thought over what his visitors had said. They'd been awfully nice to him. He wished he could have enjoyed their visit more. He also wished that Allene's death didn't hurt quite so much.

Much later that evening, Matt picked up his guitar. "I haven't played you for a long time, ol' friend," Matt whispered aloud to the guitar as he tuned it, "but maybe we can still make music."

With that, Matt began to strum the guitar. After a few moments, he began to sing softly, letting the music sooth him as he did so. Allene always used to say that appropriate music was soothing to a person's very soul. She'd been absolutely right about that.

DING! DING! DING! . . . DING! DING! DING! . . . DING! DING! DING!

The strident ringing of Matt's cell phone soon interrupted his playing of the guitar.

He'd had enough intrusion upon his solitude already that day, so it was with some hesitation that he picked up the phone. "Hello."
CHAPTER 5

"Oh, Matt! I'm so glad you're home!" Matt recognized Kimberli's exuberant voice. She was so enthusiastic! Rather like a ray of sunshine beaming through the dark clouds of his life. What a surprise. He'd never expected to hear from her, and here she was on the telephone!

"Hi, Kimberli. How are you?" He wanted to say, 'How are you, pretty girl?' But he just couldn't. Not just yet, anyway. He didn't know how she'd take his saying something like that. Or how he'd feel about having said it–later.

Kimberli wanted so much to say, 'I'm missing you already, Matt, that's how I am.' Instead, she said, "I'm fine, Matt. How are you?"

Matt told her about his three visitors.

"Oh, Matt, I'm so glad they came to see you!" Kimberli exclaimed. "They're such wonderful people. I've known them for a long, long time. With your help and guidance, they saved my life, you know."

"They're very fond of you, Kimberli."

"Thank you for saying that," Kimberli responded, then hesitated. "Um, Matt?"

Something was on Kimberli's mind. "Um-hmm?"

"This is a huge request, but tell me about yourself."

"Ummm, tell you what let's do." Matt responded.

"Okay, tell me what we should do."

Matt grinned. "I'll make a deal with you, Kimberli. It's not so easy for me to talk about myself, but maybe we can make a trade. I'll tell you something about me, if you'll tell me something about you."

"Kimberli laughed. "Okay, big guy. I'm not the greatest at talking about myself, either, but it's a deal."

For the next half hour, Matt and Kimberli shared things about themselves. It was the most Matt could remember having ever talked to anyone about himself since he and Allene used to talk, but Kimberli made it easy for him and he told her so.

For Matt's part, he thoroughly enjoyed getting acquainted with Kimberli. He could go for a girl like her who had grown up in these mountains and shared many interests with him. Still not quite certain as to how she'd respond to him, he let her know he'd enjoyed visiting with her.

"I really enjoyed talking with you, too, Matt, and we'll talk again," Kimberli promised Matt as they were saying goodbyes, "and I'm going to be praying for you each and every day. Ummm, Matt?"

"Um-hmm?"

"Would . . . Would you pray for me, too? I'd sure appreciate it if you would."

"Oh, Kimberli, I'm afraid I don't know much about prayer," Matt confided. "You probably find this kind of silly, but I really don't know how to pray."

"It's easy, Matt," Kimberli responded. "Prayer is just talking to God. If you can talk with me, and I know you can, you can talk to God."

"Don't I have to bow my head and close my eyes?"

"Not really. Yes, it shows reverence when you do, but you can talk to God anytime, like even when you're driving, and you sure don't want to close your eyes then, now do you?" Kimberli giggled.

Matt grinned. "No, that wouldn't be a good idea. So, how do I go about praying?"

Thank you, Jesus. Kimberli breathed a prayer of thanks that Matt had asked how to pray. "Just imagine that God, or Jesus if it's easier for you to think of Him as a person, is right there in the room with you. Maybe He's seated in your second chair. You're in your recliner and He's in your second chair or maybe He's seated on your window ledge. Just talk to Him, and tell Him what you're thinking. Ask Him to help you with your tasks and ask Him to bless your friends. Most of all, though, tell Him about me! Ask Him to give me a good day and to bless me. And ask Him to give you a good day and to bless you, too."

Matt said he'd try. He meant it. He'd try for Kimberli's sake.

* * * * *

Kimberli thoroughly enjoyed her work as a social worker. Working as she did at the church-sponsored rescue mission gave her the opportunity not only to counsel people with all kinds of personal problems but to introduce them to her one true spiritual friend, her special friend who could change their very lives now and for eternity–Jesus.

The mission itself was located in a seemingly forsaken section of town in a violent, impoverished neighborhood. Even the once-beautiful parks were overrun with gangs and thugs. Litter filled the streets and alleys. Gang graffiti covered most of the shabby buildings. Homeless people roamed the streets day and night. Drugs of all types were readily available. Children growing up in that part of town had little hope of escape.

Kimberli's work in that setting was not easy, of course. In fact, sometimes it really hurt to share in the problems of her clients and sometimes it seemed as if she were working around and around the clock and getting absolutely nowhere. Still, knowing that she was doing the best she could for her clients brought her a sense of satisfaction. She'd never be able to reach some of them with even a little bit of help for their problems, let alone be able to introduce them to Jesus. She accepted that. Still, she trusted God to help her do what He wanted her to do.

Ever since she'd met Matt, Kimberli found herself especially looking forward to telephone visits with him. His friendship had come to mean a great deal to her. How she wished she could talk with him every single day–in person! As they began to be more comfortable with each other, she found herself sharing things about herself that she shared with absolutely no one else. When she was talking with Matt, she was not the ugly ol' beanpole she used to imagine herself to be. In fact, when she was talking with Matt, she felt absolutely gorgeous. He was just that wonderful!

Sometimes Kimberli wondered if God actually had chosen Matt to be her life partner. Certainly his being in those mountains and relatively near the site where her plane would crash was no accident. Not in Kimberli's book, anyway. No. It was miraculous how God had brought Matt Davis, the man with the skills necessary to find her in that snowstorm, to that place–to her.

Pastor Dave and Phil were praying for Matt every day, and that pleased Kimberly very much. Her dad had told her about the three of them visiting Matt. "With all of you guys praying for him, Matt doesn't have a chance of not being saved," Bill jokingly told his daughter. She hoped with all of her heart that her dad was right about that. How she hoped that Matt would become a Christian–and soon!

Kimberli had been thrilled when she learned that Matt actually played the guitar she'd seen in his cabin. "Will you play for me sometime?" she'd asked during one of their telephone visits, and Matt assured her he would.

For Matt's part, he had been interested to learn that Kimberli liked to sing, and in fact, did so regularly at the rescue mission services as well as at her home church when she visited there. He wished he could hear her sing. "Send me a recording of you singing something," he'd requested, and she'd said she would. It wouldn't be like hearing her in person, but it would be the next best thing.

* * * * *

Although Matt had sought solitude in those mountains, he now found himself actually anticipating the telephone conversations with Kimberli. Almost anticipating the conversations, anyway. She'd never replace Allene in his heart. Or . . . or could she? When he and Kimberli talked and shared their experiences, Matt found himself drawn closer and closer to her.

Kimberli, too, had experienced hurts in her life, hurts that were similar to the hurts in his. Knowing this, and seeing the ways in which Kimberli had overcome her hurts such that she could actually help others who were hurting gave Matt the courage to confront his own hurts. He could feel himself growing emotionally stronger as his relationship with Kimberly grew stronger.

She'd said she could help him overcome his sorrow. Indeed, her friendship was helping him and, she freely admitted, his friendship was helping her feel accepted and secure. Sometimes Matt found himself wishing Kimberli lived closer so that he could see her. Talk to her face-to-face. Maybe have dinner with her sometimes.

Whereas Matt at first thought he'd never see Kimberli again once she went back to work in Silver City, he now looked forward to seeing her the next time she was back to visit her dad. And she'd told Matt that seeing him was the first thing she wanted to do the next time she was "home." Matt found himself looking forward to that visit.

* * * * *

On the following Sunday morning, Matt tuned in the radio station at the time when Pastor Dave's church would have the program. It had been a long time since Matt actually had been in a church, so he wasn't quite sure what to expect. Allene had taken him to church with her, of course, and he'd attended his chaplain's services when he could, but he still felt a bit awkward about attending a church—a real church. How he wished Allene was still alive so they could go together. She'd wanted him to accept Jesus and become a Christian, but she'd died before she'd actually helped him do that. If she was still alive, he might now be a genuine Christian. He might be going to church with her every Sunday.

And then it hit him very, very hard: If Allene was still alive, he wouldn't be there in those mountains–and Kimberli would be dead! Matt simply could not stand the thought of Kimberli being dead. That thought really did hurt. Tears welled up in his eyes as the image of Kimberli in that wrecked airplane crossed his mind. For the first time in a long time, Matt bowed his head and closed his eyes. "Help me to understand these things, please, Jesus," he prayed.

Having met Dave and Phil and knowing that Bill attended the same church made it a little more inviting to tune in their radio program. And what a lively program it turned out to be! It was nothing like a church Matt had attended a few times when he was a kid. This was different! These people were alive!

Phil led the singing of several traditional hymns and then launched the congregation into singing a variety of spirited contemporary Christian music. In fact, Matt actually recognized one of the songs as one Allene had taught him, and he sang along softly. And did Phil ever have a great voice! Matt thoroughly enjoyed hearing him sing. He'd listen to that program again.

Pastor Dave then welcomed his radio audience and invited them to turn in their Bibles with him to John 10. Although Matt did not have a Bible and could not, therefore, follow along, he listened intently as Dave read about Jesus as He declared Himself to be the Good Shepherd who lays down His life for the sheep. "In John 10:10, Jesus gave his followers a beautiful promise," Pastor Dave continued. "He said, 'I came that they might have life, and might have it abundantly' (NASV)."

Following the scripture reading, Dave spoke on what Jesus meant by an abundant life. "Jesus is not talking about having a large bank account or fancy cars or outlandish houses or the latest electronic gadgets," the pastor began, "nor is He talking about having a busy social schedule. No. The abundant life Jesus has for us is one filled with spiritual blessings, and you can't buy those at the mall."

Pastor Dave went on to discuss the evidences of an abundant life, the peace of God that we can have even in the midst of personal disasters, and the joy that can be ours through knowing Jesus as our personal savior. "Our life can be full of meaning and purpose," the pastor declared. "It can be genuine, and it can be eternal."

The pastor went on to discuss how the abundant life Jesus promises can be obtained only by accepting Him and then staying close to Him. In closing, he assured the congregation that he would be presenting a series of sermons discussing the abundant life available to the true believer, and then asked if there were any in the congregation who wished to receive Jesus as Savior.

"If you are a part of our radio audience and wish to receive Jesus as your Savior and Lord, you can do so this very morning," Pastor Dave declared, as he continued his invitation.

Allene would have loved that church service. Matt wished that he could attend church with her--just one more time.
CHAPTER 6

Monday morning. Matt watched the dark clouds gathering in the west from the window of his cabin. The weatherman on the radio was forecasting more snow and lots of it, and it looked like the clouds were moving in right on schedule. High winds would be moving in just a little later. Blizzard conditions, including white-outs limiting visibility to only short distances, would soon follow. Many area businesses would be closing early that day. People were being advised to stay inside until the storm passed.

It began to snow mid-morning. Matt watched from his recliner as the snow began to pile up and then to drift across his lane as the wind picked up. This storm certainly would isolate him against the outside world. The sheriff wouldn't be out to see him today--maybe not for several days. Good!

Matt was well prepared for the isolation that winter in those mountains surely would bring. He'd stocked enough food to see him completely through the worst of the winter if necessary. His pile of firewood was more than adequate. There would be no mail delivered, probably until the spring thaw, figuratively speaking, but that didn't concern him. He'd set up payment of his few regularly recurring bills so that the bank would automatically pay them from his account. He had no living relatives, and he didn't correspond with anyone. He'd be okay and most thankful for whatever isolation the storm would bring.

From his window, Matt could see the row of trees to the north and west of his cabin that an earlier inhabitant had planted as a wind-break. Next summer he planned to trim some of them and plant new trees to replace some of the older ones that were dead or dying. It had been a good wind-break once, and it would be again once he'd had the time to work with the trees. For now, though, he'd simply relax and accept the isolation.

Yes, even though he enjoyed and looked forward to his telephone visits with Kimberli, Matt appreciated the isolation the storm would provide--insulation from the world that had not treated him kindly. Sometimes he wished that Kimberli were there with him, but those thoughts were tempered by the knowledge that Allene would never be with him again. Maybe he'd talk over those feelings with Kimberli sometime. She would understand. Sometimes he thought he missed Kimberli as much as he missed Allene.

As Matt was straightening up his cabin, he noticed the little plastic jar where he'd stashed some of the tiny flecks of gold and the small nuggets he'd found while panning for gold last summer. Then he remembered that he'd left it out when he retrieved the silver belt buckle for Bill, the very buckle the sheriff believed to have been worn by his long-missing wife when she disappeared. Maybe one of these days he could help bring closure to that terrible event in the lives of Bill and Kimberli.

The gold in Matt's jar glittered in the light. He'd certainly found enough gold in that stream to make his work there worthwhile. Next summer he'd build a sluice that would capture a great deal more gold than he could work with a pan. He looked forward to that venture.

Fortunately, Matt didn't have to worry about money to live on. His dad had taught him to be frugal and invest wisely, and Matt had saved quite a bit toward his anticipated marriage with Allene, the hoped for marriage that hadn't come to pass. Furthermore, he always had lived simply. The things he enjoyed didn't cost all that much. The gold dust and nuggets in Matt's jar were worth perhaps $2,000, or maybe a little more. That was only his best estimate, of course, because he didn't have a scale to actually weigh the gold.

The small gold nuggets he'd found were quite rare, and he was pleased with having found them. In fact, Matt figured they'd fetch as much as two times the spot price of gold. Maybe he'd be lucky and locate even larger nuggets next summer. That was the dream of all gold prospectors, of course, and Matt knew that large gold nuggets were extremely rare.

There were two other little gold-filled jars in Matt's cabinet similar to that one. Next summer he'd find even more gold. He knew it was there in that stream bed, just waiting for him to take it. No! Matt had little need of the outside world. He had everything he needed right there. Everything, that is, except Allene. How he wished she were with him.

By early afternoon, the snow was falling fast. The wind was picking up, too, howling around Matt's cabin walls as it blew across the mountain ridge over to the west. He now could see only a few feet beyond his windows through the swirling white. He hoped that everyone in the area had the good sense to stay home and not venture out in this storm. Good as those EMTs he'd met might be, they had no need to be called out in this kind of weather.

Late that afternoon, Matt tuned his radio to a station that played older popular music, 'golden oldies' they called them, and retrieved his guitar from where it stood behind his bed. Kimberli had encouraged him to play the guitar. He'd just play along with some of the 'golden oldies' he was familiar with. He'd sing along with them, too. Maybe Kimberli would sing with him sometime if he got back into practice. He could dream, although his dreams hadn't had a very good track record of coming true.

* * * * *

DING! DING! DING! . . . DING! DING! DING! . . . DING! DING! DING!

With some reluctance, Matt put down his guitar and answered his jangling cell phone.

"Hello."

"Hi, Matt."

Matt recognized Kimberli's voice, exuberant as always. Much as he disliked hearing his telephone jangle, he was beginning to really enjoy hearing from her. "Hi, Kimberli."

"Is it snowing there, Matt?"

"Yes. It's snowing heavily, and the wind is blowing hard. There's a major winter storm in progress. Visibility is very limited. Area businesses are closed, and people are being advised to stay home." Matt grinned, knowing he was sounding like the announcer on the radio as he summarized the weather situation outside his cabin.

"That's what the weatherman on my radio was saying," Kimberli responded. "Are . . . Are you all right, Matt?" Matt caught the concern in her voice.

"Sure. I'm fine."

"Matt?"

Kimberli was anxious or concerned about something or someone. Matt could sense that from the way she was talking, rather as if she were looking at her watch or over her shoulder as she spoke. "Um-hmm?"

"I . . . I can't talk very long right now, but I wanted to check in with you. Make sure you're all right. Right now, though, I'm . . . I'm so excited!" Kimberli sounded so bubbly and enthusiastic. Something wonderful must be happening.

"Wow! I can tell that you're excited," Matt responded. "What's going on?"

"Oh, Matt. It's just wonderful. As of today, we've got a new director for the rescue mission where I work. His name is Stanley Shirron. We call him 'Stan.' He's about our age, and he's really, really good. Good looking, too! Blonde hair. Blue eyes. We're having a dinner to welcome him this evening, and . . . and he's going to pick me up to go to the dinner with him any minute now. I'm . . . I'm watching for his car and . . . and there it is. He's . . . He's just turning into the parking lot. Oh, and he's got this really sleek sports car, a Porsche, I believe. I can't wait to ride in it! Sorry I can't talk longer, Matt, but right now I've got to run. Talk to you later. Bye."

"Bye."

Well! Well! Well! So Kimberli had a new boyfriend, Stan Shirron. A 'good looking' guy with a 'sleek sports car.' And he's taking her to dinner. Wonderful. Matt sat back in his recliner and picked up his guitar, but he didn't feel like playing any more so he put the guitar back behind his bed. He should have known that she'd . . . .

DING! DING! DING! . . . DING! DING! DING! . . . DING! DING! DING!

Matt was beginning to hate that phone and almost didn't answer, but then he did. Only one other person would be calling him.

"Hello."

"Matt, Bill Clanin here."

"Hello, Bill."

"Have you got lots of wind and snow out there?" the sheriff asked.

"Sure do. There's a real blizzard in progress," Matt informed him. "The wind is howling and the snow's going to be drifting really deep before the storm's over. It's a good evening to stay inside."

Why he should have to tell the sheriff about the storm, Matt wasn't sure. It would be every bit as wintry where he was, and he had the latest weather information on his smart-phone. Matt hoped the annoyance he felt about having to report on the storm didn't show in his voice.

"It sure is," the sheriff responded. "Are you going to be okay?"

Matt was getting just a little tired of that question. What could anyone do about it if he said he wasn't okay? "Yes, Bill. I'm going to be okay," he replied, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice but not managing to do so very well.

Bill sensed that he'd annoyed Matt with that question. "Matt, I just wanted to let you know that I'm going to be away for a few days to visit Kimberli. I'll probably leave here when the worst of this storm blows over. They're not having much if any snow where she lives. Silver City has a lot milder climate than we do here in the mountains."

"Um-hmm."

"If you need anything, I want you to feel free to call either Dave or Phil. You have their phone numbers, don't you?"

It was pointless to tell the sheriff that he wasn't going to need anything and that he wasn't going to call either of them for anything--even if he did. "I think so."

"If you don't, I'll give them to you. Got 'em right here."

Matt wanted to say that he didn't have them and he didn't need them and he didn't want them. Instead, he said, "That's all right, Bill. I've got them. Thanks, anyway."

"Like I said," Bill continued, "I'm going to be visiting Kimberli for a few days. I'll be sure to tell her 'hi!' for you. Let her know you're doing okay."

He'd better clue Bill into the facts. "That's not a good idea, Bill. It's probably better if you don't mention me to her."

"It's not a good idea to tell her 'hi!" for you?" Bill was incredulous. "Why not, Matt? Is something wrong between you two?"

"You probably don't know this little item yet, but Kimberli has a new boyfriend." Matt tried not to let his hurt show in his voice.

"Whoa, Matt! I don't think so."

"Well, it's so. His name is Stan, er Stanley, Shirron. He's 'good looking' and he drives a 'sleek sports car.' Probably a Porsche. He's got blonde hair and blue eyes. That's how she describes him, anyway. She can tell you about him and introduce you to him when you're visiting her. I'm sure I won't be hearing from her again. Anyway, you have a good trip. Soak up some of the warmer weather. Maybe bring some of it back with you." Matt tried to keep his feelings of disappointment out of his voice, but that was impossible because he was disappointed.

Bill was puzzled, but he wasn't about to dispute what Matt said before he talked to Kimberli. "Matt?"

Why doesn't this guy get off the phone and leave me alone? "Um-hmm?"

"I hope you realize that there are people around here who care about you."

"Thank you," Matt replied. "Have a good trip, Bill. See you when you're back home." What else could he say?

ENOUGH WAS ENOUGH WAS ENOUGH! As soon as the sheriff hung up, Matt angrily turned off his cell phone. He'd had enough calls on that phone that very day to last an entire lifetime. If anyone really needed to speak with him, and he truthfully didn't know anybody who did, they could leave a message on his voice-mail. Or text him. Whatever. Maybe he'd call them back, and then again, maybe he wouldn't.

* * * * *

Kimberli tried again and again to call Matt over the next two days. She repeatedly got the recorded message that his phone was not turned on, so she left brief messages of concern every other time she called, all of which ended with the request that Matt call her–and those requests came straight from her heart.

Not only did she call Matt, but she called her dad. He, too, tried to call Matt, but like Kimberli, found that Matt's phone was turned off.

"What's going on with Matt?" Kimberli asked her dad, when he arrived at her apartment.

Bill sighed. "I'd guess he doesn't want to talk with anyone."

"Why not?" Kimberli asked. "He seemed to enjoy talking to me, and . . . and I sure did enjoy talking to him."

"Well, I'll hazard a guess about what's going on with Matt," her dad replied. "He tells me that you have a new boyfriend."

"A new boyfriend? He says I have a new boyfriend?" Kimberli was incredulous.

"That's what he said, and--"

"Oh, Dad! I know where he got that idea," Kimberli interrupted. "I was talking to him the other night when the new director of the rescue mission, Stan Shirron, came by to pick me up. Stan was taking me with him to a dinner where we were welcoming him, and . . . and . . . I can see where Matt might have got the idea that he was my new boyfriend because I did describe him as 'good looking' and I said he had a really 'sleek sports car.'"

"Well, is he your new boyfriend?"

"No. No way! Stan's an energetic man and I think he'll really perk up the rescue mission, but he's not the kind of guy I'd want for my boyfriend." Kimberli wasn't about to tell her dad everything she knew about Stanley Shirron, but she'd emphasize the fact that he wasn't her boyfriend and never would be. "In fact," she continued, "we didn't get along all that well when he drove me to the dinner that the rescue mission staff put on to welcome him. I guess I'm not very experienced with guys so I didn't know that Matt would be so quick to assume things."

Bill Clanin smiled. "Kimberli, you've got to realize just how sensitive guys like Matt are. They're rough and tough on the surface, but they're keenly aware of relationships and they're not about to interfere if you've got a relationship with another guy. You remember that Matt thought Cameron was your husband. If Matt thinks you've got a boyfriend, he's not going to call you or even answer your calls. It's kind of a code that some guys follow, not to try to take another guy's girl."

Kimberli sighed, sank into a chair, and put her head in her hands. "Can . . . Can you tell him how it is with me? Tell him that I really don't have a boyfriend? That Stan isn't my boyfriend? That I really miss not talking to him?"

"Maybe, but Matt doesn't like for me to call him either," her father replied. "You see, Matt likes to take care of himself, and he took a pretty good hit when his girlfriend was killed. He moved up into those mountains because he wanted to be alone with his thoughts and memories, and yes, his grief. Right now, I suspect he's enjoying the isolation the snow storm provides. And if he did consider you as someone special, which I'm sure he did, he probably thinks you've deserted him for another man."

"But if I could just talk to him, I could explain."

"Maybe so." Bill didn't sound very hopeful.

"I could writer him a letter."

"No. He might not get it until next spring," her father cautioned. "You see, the Post Office holds his mail when the roads are such that the carrier can't get through, and that'll probably be quite some time now, what with the blizzard and all. Frankly, I don't think Matt gets much mail or really cares much about getting mail."

"Well, I'm going to keep trying to call him and maybe I'll get through to him."

Kimberli's dad was not encouraging. "Maybe so. I . . . I hope so."

"We had such good times talking, Dad," Kimberli whimpered. "He's the only guy other than you who I've really been able to share my thoughts with. He doesn't laugh at me when I question something or say something silly. I just hope I haven't ruined our relationship."

"You really like him, huh?"

Kimberli nodded her agreement. "I sure do, and you know I do. I'd so much like for Matt to become a Christian, too. He's close, but he's not there just yet."

* * * * *

Although Kimberli would not admit it to her dad, she did have an attraction to Stanley Shirron. He was handsome and suave, and he lavished far more attention on her more than any other man she'd ever dated. Not that she'd consider him a boyfriend, and yet . . . .

* * * * *

What began as gently falling snow rapidly turned into the predicted ferocious blizzard and continued throughout the night. When Matt awoke the following morning, the snow had drifted to the eaves of his cabin on the west side and was only slightly less deep around the other three sides. Still, the electricity was on so Matt had lights, and his electric coffee maker worked just fine. He had brought in plenty of firewood for his heating stove so he'd be warm, and he had plenty of food on hand. Hey, guy, he asked himself, what more could a man want?

The answer came quickly enough to Matt: Allene . . . or . . . or . . . Kimberli.

But then, as he daydreamed momentarily about Kimberli and how pretty she was with her silky hair and big brown eyes, he remembered with a start that she had a boyfriend, 'good looking' Stanley Shirron, the new director of the rescue mission where she worked. 'Good looking' and with a 'sleek sports car.' Well, Matt reasoned, Stan would be more Kimberli's kind of guy. He wished them well.

The weather forecaster on the radio predicted that the storm would blow itself out during the day. Matt listened to the news and then tuned the radio to the station that played popular music, the 'golden oldies station.' The music on that station helped him forget a lot of things, especially when they played music he could sing along with.

To his surprise, there was nothing there.

That station must have gone off the air. Perhaps the storm had damaged the transmitting tower or something? Never mind. Matt could make his own popular music on his guitar, and he did so, strumming the guitar and singing softly to himself while he watched the fierce wind blow the snow around and around in swirls outside his window.

He'd get that wind break to the north and west of his cabin repaired before next winter. Once the new trees had grown a bit, they'd at least slow the wind that accompanied these kind of storms.

Toward evening, Matt checked his cell phone. He now had twelve messages waiting for him, two from Bill Clanin, one from Pastor Dave, and nine from Kimberli. Why she needed to call him, Matt did not know. After all, she now had a boyfriend who suited her much better than he ever could. He was the 'good looking' new director of the rescue mission where she worked, and they'd be well suited for each other. Besides, he and Kimberli lived in the same city so they could see each other regularly after work and on weekends as well as at the rescue mission.

Well, Matt promised himself, one of these days he'd get around to listening to the messages on his voice-mail. Maybe he'd even answer some of them. For now, though, the silence in his life was simply beautiful. He understood clearly how much some of the earliest pioneers and mountain men enjoyed the self-reliant life style. They took care of themselves, and if disaster happened such that they died, nobody was around to know or care. That's the way Matt wanted it, too.

* * * * *

On the following day, Matt studied several of his geology textbooks and worked with his topographical maps of the region, pinpointing again the place along that stream where he'd found the most gold. He'd found two good-sized nuggets upstream from there as well, and he planned to search all along that stream for more.

After he pinpointed the sites where he wanted to set up his sluice, he marked the location of those caves of interest to Bill Clanin and did some thinking of the best way for him or Bill or somebody to climb down to them. What Bill could possibly hope to find in them related to his wife's disappearance after all these years, Matt couldn't be sure. Maybe they'd be lucky, but Matt really didn't think they'd find anything of interest. Still, when you're a cop, you have to check every lead. Matt knew that.

Matt then turned his attention to the design of the sluice he wanted to make for the next summer's use. He'd have to carry materials for it, along with a couple of buckets and a shovel, some distance and over extremely rough terrain, so the sluice would have to be relatively small. Small and as light-weight as possible. Maybe he'd be able to secure some aluminum for the frame and riffles. Once he had the design worked out, he'd get busy procuring the materials and then constructing it.

One thing Matt liked about a sluice was that they could be almost totally silent in operation. Matt liked silence. Peace and quiet.

Well, he'd put it off as long as he could. Matt reluctantly retrieved his cell phone and activated the recorded messages. Pastor Dave's message was predictable. He simply told Matt that he had enjoyed meeting him, asked if he was okay, and said he'd be praying for him. Matt could go with that. The guy was okay. He'd enjoyed hearing Dave's Sunday sermon on the radio. Bill Clanin's messages asked how he was getting along and asked Matt to keep in touch with him. How he was getting along? Well and good. Keep in touch? No.

Now for Kimberli's messages. He'd saved them for the last because he knew they would be hard for him to listen to. "Matt," her latest, the ninth of her messages, began, "Please believe me. I don't have a new boyfriend and I miss talking to you very much. Dad says that you're right in the middle of a terrible winter blizzard. We both hope and pray that you're okay. Please call me and let me know you're all right. And no, no, no! Again, Matt, I don't have a boyfriend and I sure do hope you're still my special friend." Although Matt couldn't know this, she had wanted to say much more about how she felt about him, but she didn't quite dare. Not just yet.

Matt did not like calling people on his cell phone. Still, he guessed he owed it to Kimberli and her dad to let them know he was okay, so he hesitantly dialed her number.

Kimberli answered on the first ring. "Matt!" she gasped. "Oh, Matt! It's so good to hear from you. How are you?" Her voice was warm, exuberant! Maybe she had wanted to hear from him, after all.

"I'm okay."

"Are you snowed in?"

"Oh, yes. The drifts are up to the eaves and the lane is drifted full. There won't be anybody out and about around here for several days. There's nothing outside my windows except white snow."

"I remember how it sometimes snows in the mountains," Kimberli responded. "Sometimes it's so heavy that you can't even see through the falling snow. I do hope you're okay."

Matt sighed at hearing that statement. "I'm okay."

"Matt," Kimberli breathed, "I miss you dreadfully, and I really do worry about you."

"Don't ever do that," Matt insisted. "Don't ever worry about me. I've got almost everything I need right here."

Kimberli tried not to but she giggled in spite of herself. "Almost everything? What's missing besides me?" She hadn't intended to be so forward, but the intent of her heart just slipped out.

Matt chuckled. Before he could respond to Kimberli's question, though, she quickly changed the subject: "Did you listen to Pastor Dave on the radio last Sunday?"

"Yes. Yes, I did."

"It was a good sermon, didn't you think?"

"Yes. Yes, it was, and I did enjoy the music, too. Dave gave me a lot of things to think about. You must have listened, too. Are you able to receive that station out where you live?"

"No. I don't get it here," Kimberli responded, "and I'm usually working at the mission on Sunday mornings when the program is on. Instead, I have the church send me a tape or a cd of the radio program every week so I get to keep up with Dave and Phil and the other members. I do miss hearing Dave speak in person, and I really miss the music. Phil is just an excellent musician."

"I agree. What do you do at the mission on Sundays, anyway?" Matt asked.

"Sometimes I attend the church service we have, but mostly I work in the kitchen," Kimberli replied. "We feed at least a hundred homeless people every day of the week, so I help out in the kitchen on Sundays. Give some of the regular workers a little break. By the time I get home, I'm usually so tired I just go to sleep because I know that Monday morning is coming and I'll have a full calendar of appointments. Sometimes I help in the kitchen on Saturdays, too, and that really makes for a hard weekend."

Kimberli and Matt talked for a while longer. Before they ended the conversation, Kimberli implored Matt to answer his phone in the future, "because I really miss talking with you."

Matt assured her that he would answer the phone. Still, he wondered if Kimberli meant it when she said she didn't have a new boyfriend. She'd said she didn't, but he'd heard her describe the man, and it sounded like she really liked him. Some women were fickle. He knew that. Matt wasn't about to play second-fiddle to another man.

"I know you don't like to have anyone intrude on your world, Matt, but I hope I'm not just anyone," Kimberli added, before they said goodbye. "You may not know it, but I'm really trying to be the best friend you've ever had." Maybe, she said, but only to herself, I'll end up being even more to you than a best friend!

Then again, Matt said, but only to himself, you'll likely end up being the best friend Stanley Shirron ever had.
CHAPTER 7

DING! DING! DING! . . . DING! DING! DING! . . . DING! DING! DING!

A few days later, Matt reluctantly answered his phone: "Hello."

"Matt. Bill Clanin here."

"Yes?"

"Matt, I've got a man in my office asking about you. His name's Tim Audrey. Says he knew you in the service."

"Yes," Matt replied, "I know Tim. He was a chaplain when I knew him."

"He was passing through town, and said he'd like to see you," the sheriff continued. "He said he knew you lived around here, but he didn't know where. How about if I bring him out to your place? He says he can't stay long, but he'd like to see you, just to say hello."

"Sure. That would be okay. Bring him on out."

"Okay. We'll see you in about an hour."

Tim Audrey was a good man in Matt's book. It would be interesting to see him. See what he was doing since he retired from the service. Still, Matt hoped he wasn't about to add another person to the list of those who had his phone number. And he hoped the sheriff wouldn't get in the habit of bringing people out to see him. Why couldn't Bill Clanin just leave him alone?

* * * * *

Bill Clanin and Tim Audrey arrived about one hour after the sheriff called. After a quick exchange of greetings, Matt asked Tim where he was now living.

"My wife and I are living in Silver City," Tim replied, "and I'm really enjoying myself."

"How so?" Matt asked.

"When I retired from the service, my home church there in Silver City asked if I'd help develop a prison ministry," Tim replied. "I said I would, and I've been ministering to the inmates at the State Penitentiary ever since."

"A prison ministry, eh? That's interesting. What do you have going there?"

"I'll tell you about the ministry. First of all, I hold a church worship service each Sunday morning for the inmates who are interested," Tim explained. "We started out with about ten or fifteen men attending regularly. Then some of the guys who played musical instruments or liked to sing got involved, and things really took off. Last Sunday I had sixty five men at the Sunday morning service."

"That's great!" Matt exclaimed.

"Yes," Tim replied. "Actually, I think we'll have to start having two worship services each Sunday because our meeting room is about full. Actually, it's over-full. We're working on that, and I've been in touch with another chaplain who's about to retire from the service about helping me with the services. He's a younger man, and I think he'll go over really well with many of the inmates."

"Have you got some good musicians?" Matt asked.

"Yep!" Tim exclaimed. "In fact, I'm trying to interest several of the guys in pursuing music as a career. We recorded some of their work a few days ago, and I sent it off to a music producer. We haven't heard back yet, but I'm thinking we just might have some fellows who could make a career of their music. Give them a positive interest in life. Whether that works out or not, they really add enthusiasm to our worship services.

"And then, in addition to the Sunday morning worship services," Tim continued, "I have two Bible study groups. One's a little more advanced than the other one. We meet on Tuesday and Thursday nights, and average about ten to fifteen or sometimes twenty men in each group."

"All that is in addition to the counseling you told me about," Bill interjected.

"Yes. I work with the men who are getting ready to get out of prison and rejoin society, trying to get them ready to return to their families and get a job. Get involved in their communities. Things like that."

"And you're living in Silver City if I heard correctly?" Matt asked.

"Yes."

"That's where Bill's daughter, Kimberli, lives and works," Matt replied.

Tim turned to Bill. "What does she do there?" he asked.

Bill explained that Kimberli was a social worker who worked with an inner city rescue mission in Silver City.

"I know of that rescue mission," Tim replied, after a moment's thought, "but I don't know any of the staff there. Well," Tim hesitated, "except . . . for . . . their . . . new . . . director. I did meet him once."

"Oh!" Matt exclaimed. "So you know Stanley Shirron?"

"Yeah, I know him." Tim suppressed a laugh. "Hate to admit it, but I do."

"Oh? What do you know about him?" Bill asked.

"When I was getting the prison ministry going, I started looking for people who might be interested in helping me. Also, we wanted to start a ministry in the woman's prison and we were looking for help with that venture. Well, Stan Shirron was right there at the front of the line with his resume, so I checked out his references. And then I checked out several people who knew him."

"Didn't like what you found out, I gather?" Bill asked.

"I'm not going to talk ill about him," Tim replied, "except to say that he's not the kind of guy I'd want working with prison inmates. Or working with me anywhere."

Talk quickly turned to what Matt had been doing. Time passed rapidly. All too quickly, Tim indicated that he had to be going, get back to town and on his way. With promises to keep in touch, Tim and Bill departed.

Matt had thought about exchanging telephone numbers with Tim Audrey but then decided against it. Tim could get in touch with the sheriff if he really needed or wanted to get in touch with Matt. Bill Clanin having his number had caused enough distress in Matt's life. But then, Matt remembered something; if the sheriff hadn't had his phone number, Kimberli likely would be dead.

* * * * *

Matt hadn't been into town for several days and he needed a few supplies, so he drove into town, did some shopping at the grocery store, and then stopped at Tyler's Diner.

The moment he entered the diner, Diane came out of the office to greet him. "Hello, Matt," she called, "Remember me?"

"Sure. How are you, Diane?" Matt asked.

"I'm good," Diane responded. "Um . . . Matt?"

"Yes?"

"May I talk to you for a few minutes?"

"Sure. Would you like something to eat?"

Diane smiled. "Sure, if I may join you."

It was Matt's turn to smile. "You sure may. My treat."

Diane obviously had something on her mind. Once they'd ordered their meal, she turned to Matt. "Tyler said you might be able to answer a question for me," she began.

"Okay. I'll try."

"Matt, I'm a Christian, and I'm wondering if you know anything about the churches in this area. That is, can you recommend one of them to me?"

"I'll tell you about some experiences I had over the past few weeks," Matt began. He then told her about his locating the downed airplane and about the two men he'd met just a few days ago, Pastor David Lee and Phillip Scott, the music director and helicopter pilot. Matt also told her about the radio program sponsored by the church, gave her the information about it, and suggested she listen to it if she were interested.

Diane thanked Matt, and then asked the question that was uppermost on her mind. "Will they think I'm a freak, what with my artificial hand?"

Matt shook his head. "No. David Lee was a chaplain in the service, and he's an EMT. Phil was a marine. So, no, they won't think you're a freak." He looked at her for a long moment. "Why would anyone think you're a freak?" he asked.

"Oh, Matt." Diane hesitated. When Matt looked at her, he saw a tear in her eye. "Okay. I guess I'd better tell you."

"Only if you want to," Matt replied.

"I want to, because I trust you, okay?"

"Sure."

"Okay," Diane continued. "I was in the hospital after I lost my hand. That's when my boyfriend came to see me. He . . . He took one look at my arm, said something about my joining the carnival side-show, turned on his heel, and walked out. I . . . I knew I'd never see him again."

"I'm very sorry," Matt responded, "but I'm absolutely certain that neither David Lee nor Phillip Scott will think you're a freak. In fact, I was just thinking, if you'd like for me to, I'll call David and introduce the two of you. He lives fairly close to here, and he could come over here to the diner and meet you."

"Yes!" Diane exclaimed, "I'd like that."

"Okay. I'll call him later this afternoon, give him your name, and tell him where you're working. My guess is, he'll get right with you. Now, let me ask you something else?"

"Okay?"

"Do you like to sing? I'm asking, because if you do, Phillip Scott will be after you to join the choir."

Diane smiled. "Yes, Matt, I do like to sing, and I would enjoy getting involved in a church."

"I don't know what all they've got going at the church," Matt said, "but I'd guess they've got some groups going for people of different ages and interests. From their radio program, it sounds like a very active church. You'll have to talk to David and Phillip about what all they've got going on. See if there are some things you'd enjoy being a part of."

* * * * *

Richard Aramas sat quietly in cell number 351 and contemplated his revenge on that sheriff who'd got him sent to prison years ago. It would be only a few days now until he was free, and he'd carefully planned for his first few days of freedom. Revenge was uppermost on his mind.

One of the first things he had to do was to dispose of the body of the sheriff's wife. It had been one of his strokes of genius, he told himself, to take a body bag with him when he went into those mountains to kill her. There'd been no time to completely destroy her body then, not in the way he wanted to, not with all the cops who were out in those mountains looking for her. He'd placed her body in that body bag and quickly hidden it in a shallow cave. And he'd laughed at the many attempts made to find her body, because he'd known those mountains better than any of the searchers. Knew where they wouldn't likely look for the woman's body. Knew they wouldn't even know that cave existed.

And he'd taunted the sheriff, asking him where his wife was, knowing the sheriff didn't know where she was. Knowing the sheriff was a religious man and wanted to give his wife a proper burial. Well, now he'd deny the sheriff that opportunity--forever. He'd get that body bag and what was left of the woman's body--and he'd burn it. Burn it out there in the mountains and let the wind and the rain take care of the ashes. Yes! Thoughts of what he'd do with that body made him feel good.

He needed to burn that body for another reason, too. In his haste to avoid the sheriff when he'd abducted and murdered his wife that day, he was certain that he'd left his fingerprints or his DNA on the body. Maybe on the body bag as well. He'd get rid of the evidence. Burn it all. That woman would never get a proper burial.

Nobody knew those mountains like he did. For sure not that sheriff. He'd get in there, burn that body and body bag, destroy all the evidence, and get away before most people even knew he was out of prison.

Knowing that he'd make that trek into the mountains to burn that body and body bag gave Aramas all the motivation he needed to work out regularly in the prison gym. Kept himself strong and agile. Did a little boxing, too. Most of the punks who liked to fight on the prison grounds kept their distance after they saw him throw a few punches in the ring. Left him alone. He'd get the few who tormented him once they were out. Kill them all. Beat 'em to death.

He'd keep his vow to kill that sheriff, too. In fact, he'd planned that event ever since he'd been sent to prison, planned it with the help of an old friend, Leonard Wright, on the outside. Leonard would help him get away, too, get completely away from the area once he'd finished his revenge. In fact, his friend had purchased a home for them both in Mexico with money they'd stolen a few months before he'd killed the sheriff's wife. The moment the sheriff was dead and his wife's body burned, he and Leonard would be on their way to Mexico--to freedom.

Aramas had planned these two acts of revenge early on in his time in prison. He knew the authorities would be keeping an eye on his visitors and his phone calls as his time to leave the prison drew near, so he wouldn't give them the opportunity to overhear his plans. No. The authorities might call him a psychopath, but that didn't mean he wasn't a genius. He'd outwitted Sheriff Bill Clanin and other law enforcement officers many times over the years, and he'd do so again. Outwit 'em and kill 'em.

There was a third act of revenge that Aramas was considering as well. The sheriff had a daughter. He'd seen her when she was out there in the mountains with her mom and dad. Even though she'd grown up and moved to Silver City, his friend knew where she was working. She'd be an easy mark.

In addition to locating the sheriff's daughter, his friend had been shadowing Bill Clanin for the past several months. Watching for his behavior patterns. And the sheriff was fairly predictable in his behavior. Now to catch him off guard. BAM! BAM! BAM! The sheriff wouldn't have to wonder where his wife was. Not any more. "Ha! Ha! Ha!" Aramas laughed aloud. Let everyone think he was crazy.

Just you watch me, Aramas had told himself many times over the last few years. I'll get that sheriff. His daughter, too. Revenge will be sweet.

* * * * *

DING! DING! DING! . . . DING! DING! DING! . . . DING! DING! DING!

Kimberli's name showed on Matt's Caller ID that evening. Matt still wasn't especially happy about hearing from her, but he'd said he'd answer his phone.

"Hello."

"Hi, Matt. How are you?"

Kimberli sounded delighted to be talking with him. Matt could hope she wasn't simply passing the time until Stan Shirron came calling in his sports car. "Hi, Kimberli," he responded, "My day was very interesting. How was your day?"

It had been a rough day for Kimberli. The neighborhood in which her agency was located had experienced a great deal of violence over the past few days, and some of her clients had been involved in a shoot-out with a rival gang. Still, she wasn't about to unload the tragedies of her day on Matt. Instead, she'd find out about Matt's interesting day. "So, tell me about your day?" she invited.

Matt told her about his visit with Tim Audrey, and especially about his work with a prison ministry in Silver City. "Tim is somebody you might like to get acquainted with," Matt suggested, "since you're both doing a kind of ministry in Silver City."

"I'll do that," Kimberli agreed. Indeed, it would be nice to know another Christian who was working with people who'd had problems. Helping them get their lives back together.

Some of her clients had served time in prison. Kimberli knew some of the difficulties associated with working with them as they tried to readjust to society after they'd served their time.

Matt did not mention Tim Audrey's assessment of Stanley Shirron. There wasn't anything Kimberly could do about him if Tim's assessment was true, and she might just end up with Stan as her boyfriend. That was a decision she'd have to make.

Nor did Matt mention his visit with Diane Thomas. Although visiting with her had contributed to his interesting day, it just didn't seem right to tell Kimberli about her..

It was as they were ending their conversation for the evening that Kimberli told Matt that she would be coming home one of these weekends before long. "I'd like to see you," she told him, and he agreed that they'd get together. They'd work out the details when she was home.

* * * * *

Bill Clanin's mention that the man he suspected of kidnapping and killing his wife somewhat to the west of Matt's cabin would soon be getting out of prison prompted Matt to re-think his security system. He already had security cameras and motion detectors around his cabin and garage, and he had plans to install cameras around the stream where he planned to set up his sluice.

Knowing that Richard Aramas would soon be out of prison would prompt Matt to be even more cautious. He had no way of knowing if Aramas knew of the sheriff's visits to his cabin, but he had to assume that Aramas had friends who might be interested in the sheriff's activities and whereabouts. They'd know about his visits from the sheriff.

The sheriff had told Matt that Aramas was very familiar with these mountains. That he was experienced in hiking and climbing--as well as theft and murder. Now to determine the most likely paths such a man might take from the highway to those caves where he suspected Rosie Clanin's body might be hidden.

Matt studied his topographical maps. If he were hiking from the highway to those caves, how would he proceed? There were several likely possibilities. Now to find out exactly when Aramas would be released from prison. Matt would be especially vigilant then.

* * * * *

As Matt listened to Pastor Dave's sermon on the radio, he thought about Diane Thomas and wondered if she was attending church that morning. He knew Dave had invited her.

In fact, Dave had called him after he'd met Diane to thank him for putting her in touch with him. Dave said that she was planning on attending church the following Sunday. Matt could almost sense Dave smile as he mentioned that he'd recommend Phil invite her to join the choir. They'd get Diane involved in church activities. Of that, Matt was certain.

Matt thought about calling her, but decided against it. After all, it wasn't any of his business. He'd enjoyed meeting Diane, and she was an attractive girl. He could go for a girl like her--if he could let go of Allene's memory. Maybe tomorrow he'd just drive over to Tyler's Diner and pay Diane a visit. Find out her impression of Pastor David and Phillip and anybody else she'd met there at church.

Monday morning. It was about lunch-time when Matt pulled into the diner's parking lot, hoping to see Diane. Then, as he was walking up the sidewalk toward the diner, Matt saw her. She was seated in a booth, her back to the window--and there was a young man seated beside her.

No way was Matt going inside now. Diane obviously had a boyfriend, perhaps someone she'd met at the church. She wouldn't be interested in talking with Matt, not then, anyway, and he knew it. Without so much as another glance at the couple, Matt walked back to his truck, got in, and drove away.

* * * * *

Leonard Wright picked up Richard Aramas when he was released from prison and took him directly to his apartment. There he gave Aramas the automatic rifle and ammunition he'd obtained for him to use, and the two men plotted to avenge Sheriff Bill Clanin's role in sending Aramas to prison.

"I can tell you exactly where he'll be tomorrow evening," Wright told Aramas.

"Yeah?"

Aramas listened carefully as Wright explained what the sheriff likely would be doing the following evening, then asked, "You got a car we can use for the job?"

"Yeah. It's a big SUV with tinted windows," Wright replied. "I stole it out of the mall parking lot two days ago and hid it in a garage I own over on Tyler Street. I also made arrangements for us to get rid of it once we're through. Get rid of it so nobody'll ever find it or connect us to it."

"All right! Let's do it!" Aramas laughed then as he slapped his knee. He'd known he could count on Leonard to do things right. Revenge would be sweet.
CHAPTER 8

The snow was melting under the warm chinook winds as they swept down the mountain passes. Matt watched the snow melt and disappear, and anticipated that he'd soon be able to get out into the wilderness again for a few days. Later, once the weather warmed still more, he planned to work on his cabin, rebuilding the part he hadn't had time to do last summer and adding some electrical wiring. What he really looked forward to, however, was the chance to explore the mountains and search for gold in the stream where he'd found nuggets the previous summer.

It was when he was outside his cabin splitting wood that would keep him warm through the rest of the winter and into the spring that he saw Bill Clanin's white pickup coming up his lane.

"I was just out looking over the territory and thought I'd stop by," the sheriff explained, when Matt walked over to talk with him.

Matt knew better. Bill was here with something on his mind, and it wasn't long in coming. "Kimberli's going to be here this weekend," he informed Matt, "and I'm here to invite you to hear her sing at the church on Sunday evening."

"She hasn't told me about that," Matt countered. "I didn't know that she'd be here, or that she'd be singing."

"No, I reckon not." Bill looked a bit chagrined. "Actually, I think she wanted me to get you to church on some pretense or another so it would be a surprise for you to see her and hear her sing. Well, I blew the surprise part of the invitation. Maybe that's because I'm not very good at cooking up pretenses." Bill chuckled. "Can you make it to church on Sunday evening?"

Matt hesitated. "I . . . I guess so."

"Kimberli would be proud to have you hear her sing, Matt," the sheriff encouraged him. "You know that."

"I know, and I'd like to see her, too," Matt responded. "It's just that it's been a long, long time since I've been in a church, and it's sure to bring back a lot of awful memories. It seems like I have enough of those without adding to them."

Bill wasn't about to take no for an answer. "Pastor Dave and Phil will be there. They'll be pleased to see you, too, Matt. So will Kimberli."

"I know she will. You have to realize something, though, Bill. I don't have any dressy clothes, so I'll look out of place."

"Negative." Bill wasn't about to let Matt off that easily. "You don't need fancy clothes at our church, Matt. We don't focus much on what people wear. It's what's in their hearts and how they act that counts. Some of the worst criminals in the world wear fancy clothes. It doesn't make 'em good people. You know that."

"Well, if you're sure you won't be embarrassed sitting beside me."

"Not a chance. Matt, this isn't your old-fashioned, stuffy church where everybody tries to out-dress everyone else. It's a friendly place. Kimberli and I found that out when Rosie disappeared. The people there were awfully good to both of us when we were hurting. To put it bluntly, they really helped us cope. I don't know what we'd have done without 'em."

Matt signed, more inwardly than outwardly. He knew when he'd been licked, so to speak, and in a way, he did want to be there to hear Kimberli sing. "So, what time is the Sunday evening service?"

"The service starts at seven o'clock," Bill replied. "If you'll meet us in the parking lot, say maybe ten minutes before seven, Kimberli and I will walk in with you. Will that work for you?"

That would be better than his walking in by himself. "Sure. I'll be there. Thanks, Bill."

The sheriff started his pickup. "Kimberli will be real pleased to see you there, Matt. So will I. Oh, and you'll act really surprised to see her, right, like as if I hadn't told you she'd be there?"

Matt smiled. He'd go along with that. "Sure."

He'd been right. Bill Clanin had come out to see him with a purpose. Well, he had to admit that the man and his friends at the church had done their best to be friendly, and meeting Kimberli had been one of the few good things to happen to him since Allene died.

Still, Matt knew that stepping inside a church would be hard for him. The last time he'd been in a church was to attend Allene's funeral. That was one of the hardest things he'd ever done.

Of course, Matt wasn't about to tell Bill that he wouldn't be surprised to find that Kimberli had her new boyfriend with her. She'd told him that she didn't have a new boyfriend, but he'd seen women play one man against another before. Matt would get there early. If Kimberli showed up with her boyfriend, he'd just leave. Fast. And he wouldn't be back, either. Forget that!

* * * * *

On Sunday morning Matt tuned in the church radio program. Once again, he was pleased with the singing directed by Phillip Scott. He was beginning to learn the songs they often sang, both the traditional and the contemporary, and occasionally sang along with the group.

And once again, Pastor David Lee preached a sermon that spoke to Matt. Taking his message from some of the Apostle Paul's writing, the pastor assured his congregation that God is right there in the midst of difficulties; that He often advances the gospel and matures Christians through challenges.

"God is never unaware of what His people are going through," Pastor Dave assured everyone. "Rather, God is always working everything for the furtherance of His will and purpose."

"Paul was unjustly imprisoned," the pastor noted, "and Paul expressed his understanding (Philippians 1:12-20.) that his imprisonment was 'in the cause of Christ'."

"Paul was imprisoned for two years, waiting for his case to be considered, but God did not abandon him," Pastor Dave noted. "Nor did Paul abandon God," he added. "In the same way, believers are never alone. Like Paul, we should look for the opportunities to exalt God with our lives and pray for all of those involved in difficulties.

"I want you to know my friends," Paul related (Philippians l:12-14 Good News Translation), "that the things that have happened to me have really helped the progress of the gospel. As a result, the whole palace guard and all the others here know that I am in prison because I am a servant of Christ. And my being in prison has given most of the believers more confidence in the Lord, so that they grow bolder all the time to preach the message fearlessly."

"Christians may experience many trials," the pastor continued. "For example, a promotion at work may be deserved, but not received. Perhaps credit should be given to someone, but it is not. There are all sorts of things that happen that are unfair. We must, like Paul, not complain regarding unfair or unjust situations, but live for the glory of God. Even when life is not fair or just," he added, "God is always sovereignly at work accomplishing His will."

In conclusion, Pastor Dave, challenged the congregation: "Do not complain regarding unfair and unjust situations, but live for the glory of God. Through God's grace, Christians can overcome the challenges of life, and demonstrate God's goodness and grace to those around us."

"Does Jesus care what happens to us?" the pastor asked. "Yes," Pastor Dave answered his own question. "He cares about every creature He has created. He knows when you're hurting--and He is there to see you through your trials."

That was, to Matt, hard teaching. He knew he would have to think seriously about what Pastor Dave said. Life hadn't, from his viewpoint, been fair to him. Maybe there was purpose in what had happened to him. He'd focused so much on the hurt in his own life, even to the extent of thinking that God didn't care about him. Maybe he had been placed there in that mountainous region, as Kimberli implied, so that he could rescue her from that crashed airplane.

Matt also realized that much of Dave's sermon had been directed at Christians. If he were a Christian, Matt reasoned, he could better understand Dave's message.

Having heard Dave's message and Phil's choir singing, Matt found himself wondering if Diane had attended church that morning. Maybe she'd even been a part of the choir he'd heard singing. Well, it would be good if she had found a church she enjoyed--and a boyfriend who wouldn't think she was a freak. Maybe he was in church with her.

* * * * *

Matt arrived at the church parking lot about fifteen minutes before seven that evening and found a parking place near the street where he could watch for Bill and Kimberli but wouldn't be too noticeable. Maybe the other people who knew him wouldn't spot him right away.

There was one possibility that Matt braced himself for. He wouldn't be at all surprised if Kimberli brought Stanley Shirron with her. Well, if she did, he'd feel like walking away, but no--he'd go in, but it would be the last time he'd have anything to do with Kimberli. Maybe her dad would leave him alone, too.

The church building itself seemed warm and inviting. What impressed Matt most about the church were the stained glass windows. He and his dad had installed similar stained glass windows in a church once when Matt was just a kid. He'd been quite impressed with the beauty of those windows. They'd seemed so warm and inviting, just as these did.

As Matt watched people go into the church, he saw Diane Thomas walk in--by herself. Well, good! She'd apparently found the church to her liking. Maybe she'd even found herself a new boyfriend. She certainly deserved another boyfriend after the one she'd described to him walked away from her.

It was starting to get dark outside, but the lights inside the church illuminated those beautiful windows such that they seemed to beckon him inside. Those were the same feelings he'd experienced as a kid. Maybe going inside the church wouldn't be as hard as Matt first thought, at least not if he could walk in with Bill and Kimberli.

A few minutes later, Matt saw Bill Clanin's white Chevy pickup approaching. Although it was fairly dark and he couldn't be absolutely certain, he didn't think there was anyone in the passenger seat.

And then he saw the sports car following the sheriff's pickup. The man Matt assumed to be Stanley Shirron was driving and Kimberli was in the passenger seat. They parked near the sheriff's truck. It was time for Matt to leave, to get out of there--and he knew it. Give them a moment to get inside the church without him, and he would be out of there.

Then, just as Bill Clanin pulled into the parking lot, unusual movement down the street caught Matt's eye. A SUV that had been parked there when Matt arrived had slowly pulled away from the curb and now was coming down the street in the direction of the church parking lot. What seemed most odd was the slowness with which the SUV was moving, as if someone inside the vehicle were looking or waiting for something or someone. If Matt were still in Afghanistan, he'd be mighty suspicious, because . . . .

Matt turned his attention back to Bill's white pickup. He climbed out of his Jeep when he saw Bill step out of his truck and walk around the front of it toward the sports car. Then, just as Bill opened that door and Kimberli started to step out from the car, the SUV down the street suddenly speeded up. It was what Matt had suspected, the reason Matt hadn't simply driven away.

From the corner of his eye, Matt now saw a gun barrel protruding from the rear side window of the SUV–and sensed the murderous intent. "Bill! Get down! Kimberli! Get down! Get down! GET DOWN!" Matt shouted as he sprinted across the parking lot toward Bill and Kimberli.

Matt shoved Bill toward the pavement and grabbed for Kimberli just as the SUV pulled opposite Bill's pickup. As Matt got his arms around Kimberli and thrust her sideways and to the pavement, the rifleman in the back seat opened fire.

BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!

The first bullet smacked into Matt's back with a sickening THUD! The second bullet creased Matt's head just above his right ear.

BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!

The noise was deafening as a hail of bullets tore into the sheriff's truck and into the sports car, shattering glass and sending metal shards flying. Then the SUV raced off down the street, engine roaring, tires squealing on the pavement. Before anyone had a chance to see what was happening, the SUV was out of sight.

Matt hugged Kimberli as they lay on the pavement beside Bill's truck, shielding her with his body as best he could against any further shooting. He vaguely sensed people shouting and scrambling around in the parking lot and then Sheriff Bill Clanin was getting to his feet behind them and talking rapidly into his police radio. And then someone was kneeling beside him and Kimberli.

Sounds quickly quieted. Matt wasn't aware of anything for a moment. Through the shadows of his mind, he sensed Kimberli hugging him and sobbing. Things were jumbled. He'd done his best to protect her and he hoped she hadn't been hurt. From somewhere out there, someone called his name: "Matt? Can you hear me, Matt?"

He could hear them calling his name all right, at least part of the time, but for some strange reason he couldn't seem to answer. "Hang on, Matt, it's Dave here." Someone, he assumed it was the one calling himself Dave, although he couldn't quite remember who Dave was at the moment, was pressing hard against the bullet wound on his back, no doubt trying to contain the bleeding. Someone else was trying to stop the bleeding from his head. And the staggering pain from both wounds was coming on strong.

The first bullet had shattered some of his ribs, of that Matt was certain. Where the bullets went from there, he couldn't really tell. From the corner of his eye he saw blood dripping from his head onto the sidewalk. If either bullet had been another inch to the left, he'd be dead. If he hadn't knocked Bill and Kimberli out of the way, they'd both be dead. Maybe Stanley Shirron would be dead, too.

"Hang on, Matt. I've got an ambulance on the way," the one calling himself Dave was saying, his calm voice reassuring in the darkness that rapidly was engulfing Matt.

Through his blurry semi-consciousness, Matt soon sensed white and blue lights flashing nearby and the siren of an ambulance rapidly approaching in the distance, then pulling close to him. Soon the EMTs were lifting him into the ambulance and closing the door, and then the complete blackness of unconsciousness engulfed him.

* * * * *

"Are you ready for company, big guy?" The nurse asked, when she sensed that Matt was awake.

He was lying on his left side in the hospital bed and tried his best to turn his head to look up at her face when she spoke, but his head didn't seem to move very well just then. "I'm right here beside you, but I bet it's hard for you to see much of me, right?" The nurse asked.

"T . . . Th . . . That's r . . . right."

"There are some people here to see you, Matt. Do you think you're ready to see them?"

"S . . . Sure, but . . . tell 'em . . . I . . . I don't . . . talk . . . very . . . well," Matt mumbled.

"I'll tell 'em that they'll have to do most of the talking. You'll do the listening, okay?"

This nurse was tops in Matt's book. She knew he wasn't thinking or talking clearly yet. "O . . . Okay."

"All right," Matt heard the nurse say to someone well out of his line of vision, "You can come in one at a time, for five minutes each. Matt says he can't talk very well yet, so he'll mostly listen. You talk and he'll listen."

Matt grinned, more to himself than outwardly. That nurse really was good at taking charge of things. He trusted her and somehow felt good knowing that she was doing her best to take care of him.

Kimberli came into Matt's room first. She sat down on a chair beside Matt's bed, then lowered her head to where she could look directly into his face. "Hi, Matt," she whispered. She was doing her best not to cry, at least not right away.

"You . . . okay . . . girl?"

Despite what he'd been through, Matt was concerned about her! Oh, how she loved that man. "I'm okay, thanks . . . thanks to . . . to . . . to you!" Tears welled up in Kimberli's eyes and then streamed down her cheeks faster than she could wipe them away. "You . . . You're . . . You're wonderful, Matt! I . . . I'm . . . I'm so sorry you . . . so sorry you got hurt."

"I'm . . . glad . . . you're . . . okay." The words sounded hollow and disconnected as he spoke them and Matt hoped she could understand. He managed with some effort to shift his right hand so his fingers were visible outside the sheets.

Kimberli immediately grabbed his big fingers in her hand and squeezed them tight. "I'm . . . I'm so . . . so glad . . . so glad you're . . . you're going to . . . to . . . be okay." It suddenly was hard for her to speak because she was sobbing as she clutched Matt's hand.

"I'm sorry, honey, but you'll have to leave for now," the nurse told Kimberli, then affectionately placed her hand on Kimberli's shoulder.

"Okay, but Matt, I . . . I want you . . . I want you to know, I'm . . . I'm praying for you every day, and . . . and I'll be back." Kimberli squeezed Matt's hand one more time as she got up from her seat by his bed.

Bill Clanin followed Kimberli. He, too, sat beside Matt. "I gotta hand it to you, Matt. You saw that killer out there before I did. He had an automatic rifle, and he fired at least a dozen rounds. They hit right where Kimberli and I would have been standing if you hadn't come along. You saved both my life and Kimberli's, and maybe Stan's too, and we sure do thank you."

"W . . . Who . . . did . . . ?"

"We don't know for sure who did it. Nobody saw the tag number of the shooter's SUV, but we got a fair description of it, so we've got bulletins out for the vehicle. Trouble with drive-by shootings like that is that the SUV probably was stolen and likely has been abandoned by now, abandoned or dismantled in a chop shop. We're looking for it."

"Rich . . . Richard . . . Ar . . . Aramas?"

"Richard Aramas is a prime suspect, all right. He got out of prison a few days ago, and we're looking for him. It's not that we've got anything on him except the threats he's been making all these years, but we want to talk to him. I didn't tell you this before, but he's a certified psychopath. The guy kills without remorse, and he finds ways to degrade and destroy his victims. He's smart, too. Never leaves any evidence. We've got to be on our guard, because if he is our man, he'll probably strike out at us again."

"I'm sorry, sir, but you'll have to leave now," the nurse told Bill.

The sheriff got to his feet. "Okay. You hang in there, Matt, and I'll be back."

The nurse sat down beside Matt and took his hand. "You doing all right, big guy?" she asked.

"Y . . . Yes."

"You're sure? I can tell the other guys to come back later."

"I . . . I'm okay."

"Okay, Matt. You've got two more guys here to see you if you're up to it."

"Y . . . Yes."

David Lee followed Bill into the room. "Hi, Matt. I'm not going to stay and talk until you're stronger, but I want you to know we're all praying for you and we sure do appreciate what you did."

"Da . . . Dave?" Matt's voice was getting weaker.

Pastor Dave leaned closer. "Yes?"

"Th . . . Thanks . . . for . . . helping . . . helping me! Kept . . . Kept me . . . alive! Got . . . Got me here."

"Oh, you're welcome, and Matt, I'll be back. We'll talk more then." Dave squeezed Matt's hand as he got up to leave the room."

Phillip Scott came in and immediately grabbed Matt's hand. "Good to see you, Matt. I'll be back to talk later, too, but I want you to know that Dave and I listened to that tape of your band, and we think you guys were awfully good, better than some of the professional groups we've heard, for that matter. We're sure going to get you involved with the music at our church, just as soon as you're out of here. Tune up your guitar and get ready." Phil chuckled. "We've already got you listed on the program for the next time we have 'Talent Night!'"

Matt tried to grin, but couldn't very well. "O . . . Okay. Th . . . Thanks for . . . for . . . coming," he managed to say.

Moments later, the four visitors were gone. The nurse checked Matt over and told him that he was doing fine. "I'm going to give you some medicine that'll make you sleepy," she told him. "Get some sleep if you can. I'll be keeping an eye on you."

Somehow, Matt truly trusted that nurse. She'd really been good to him. Within minutes, Matt drifted off to sleep.

On the following day, Matt was surprised with still more visitors: Tyler Baymont and Diane Thomas. Matt wondered for a moment how they knew he was in the hospital, and then he remembered that Diane had been at the church the night when he'd been shot in the parking lot. Or maybe Pastor Dave had called her? He couldn't be sure how they knew he was there, but he was pleased that they both were there.

Both Tyler and Diane expressed their concern for Matt, asked him if there was anything they could do for him, and told him they'd be back to see him. Then, as they were leaving, Diane grabbed his hand. "Matt," she whispered, "I'll be praying for you, and I'll want to talk to you when you're out of the hospital."

"Okay." Exactly why she wanted to talk with him, Matt couldn't quite understand.

"You were so very good to me," Diane continued, "and I thank you for recommending that church. I've met some really nice people--thanks to you."

Matt smiled to himself. She'd met some nice people, all right, including a new boyfriend.

* * * * *

Kimberli had so wanted to talk with Matt and introduce him to Stan that weekend. She'd planned to surprise him by being there and singing in church, although her dad had reluctantly told her that her being there would not have been a complete surprise for Matt.

So her dad had blown the surprise factor. That would have been okay with her. Matt had been there, and that was what counted. In fact, she'd worn one of her few good dresses because she wanted Matt to see her looking especially nice. And then that awful gunman had attempted to kill her and her dad. It was only because of Matt's quick wittedness and agility that they both were alive.

How she had both worried and cried when she learned the extent of Matt's injuries. Kimberli knew it was only because of God's grace that any of them were alive. If God hadn't placed Matt there in that parking lot that night, she'd be dead and so would her dad. God had certainly placed Matt where he could use him to help both her and her dad.

She'd have to go back home to work, and soon, of course. People needed her there and she recognized her obligation to the rescue mission. Still, Kimberli was torn between her obligation to her clients and her desire to be with Matt. Stan had been okay with that when she told him how much Matt had done for her.

Kimberli knew that the doctors and nurses were doing all that anyone could for him, of course, that he was getting good care at the hospital, that he was going to be all right, but still she wished she could be with him, with him not just for the day, but always. Not that she could admit that to anyone but herself right now, but she knew it was true.

Once Kimberli was over the shock of hearing the gunfire and having bullets smashing around and above her, there were all sorts of little mysteries that remained. For one thing, she still hadn't quite figured out how Matt had managed to grab her and throw them both to the pavement yet at the same time turn so that she landed on him while he hit the pavement first. She knew he'd done it so that she wouldn't be hurt, at least not so much, what with them both hitting the pavement so hard, but then the next thing she remembered was that he somehow was over her, cradling her head on his arm and shielding her with his own body from any more bullets that might follow. How had Matt ever managed that? She was rather athletic herself, but she couldn't duplicate that kind of a maneuver. Even in her wildest dreams she'd never imagined a man like Matt who would put her safety and well-being ahead of his own.

There were other things that puzzled her, too, but those things were affairs of her own heart and faith, and her feelings for Matt--intermingled with her feelings for Stan.

For one thing, she so desperately wanted Matt to become a Christian. She was thankful that Matt was receptive to hearing about Jesus, thankful that he listened to Pastor Dave on the radio, thankful that he was at the church that night because he wanted to hear her sing. And then the devil had to send that gunman to shoot at them, interrupting the beautiful evening she had planned for herself and Matt.

Kimberli knew that the devil was very devious and dangerous. He wouldn't want Matt to be in church or become a Christian. He'd do everything within his power to insure that Matt did not become a Christian. She and the others would have to pray extra hard that God would thwart the devil's evil intentions with regard to Matt.

Over and over, a most horrible thought crossed Kimberli's mind: What if Matt would have been killed that night? If one of those bullets had been just an inch to the left, he might not be in Heaven. She might never see him again, and that thought really tore at her heart. She absolutely must ask the faithful Christians around her to pray extra hard for Matt, just as she was going to do.

Later the following day, Kimberli and her dad went to the hospital to see Matt just before she had to leave with Stan to go back home. This time the nurse allowed them a little more time with Matt, and she was able to pray with him there in his room.

"I'm going to keep in touch with you, one way or another, and I'll pray for you every day," Kimberli assured Matt as she bid him a tearful farewell. Then, although his face was partially covered in bandages, Kimberli kissed him firmly on the forehead before she left.

* * * * *

Fortunately for Matt, he was in top physical condition when he was shot. He came through the emergency surgery that was performed within hours of his arrival at the hospital in good shape and continued to gain strength each day. Still, the bullets had taken their toll. It would be some time before Matt would be able to explore those mountains around his cabin like he had last summer and wanted to again.

Bill Clanin had taken Matt's Jeep from the church parking lot and kept it at his house until Matt was ready to leave the hospital. Although Bill didn't much like the idea of Matt living by himself out there in the mountains until he was stronger, he could not talk Matt into staying in town a little longer.

When it was time for Matt to leave the hospital, Bill drove him up to his cabin in his Jeep while Dave followed along in the sheriff's truck. "Keep your cell phone turned on and near by," Bill told Matt, "because I'm gonna be checking up on you." Then, as the two men were about to leave, Bill added, "Just as soon as you're up to it, I want to go out and take a look at those caves. You know the ones I mean."

Matt nodded his understanding. "Okay, Bill. We'll do that."

The truth was, for Matt, it was good to be back home–to be alone again. To enjoy his sanctuary from the outside world.

Matt had ventured out here into the mountains because he wanted to be alone, to grieve for Allene. If people wouldn't leave him alone with his grief, maybe he'd have to leave here and move still further away from people. He'd think about that later. Tonight, though, it just felt good to be home. And Matt had to admit that people here had been awfully good to him. Maybe it was better if people didn't leave him alone. Could that be so? Better if people didn't leave him alone? No. No. No. What was he thinking? Matt immediately pushed that thought out of his mind.

Reflecting back on the sermon Dave had preached the previous Sunday morning, Matt asked himself if God had really placed him there in those mountains. If he hadn't been there, Kimberli would likely be dead, as would her dad.

* * * * *

Leonard Wright drove Richard Aramas directly to his apartment and then took the stolen SUV directly to a chop shop he'd dealt with a number of times. One of the men at the chop shop drove him back to his apartment in another vehicle. Nobody would find that SUV now.

They'd not been able to complete the evening's mission of killing Bill Clanin, but they'd plan for another attack. Let things settle down a little first, though. In the meantime, Aramas would get into those mountains and destroy that body. Wright would drive him in his car to the place where he wanted to go into the mountains, the place from where he could hike in to that cave, and he'd pick him up once he'd finished that task. Let him spend a few days in the mountains, and pick him up when he was ready.

"We'll lay low for a few days, let the weather warm a little, before I go to work in the mountains," Aramas said. "If the cops come around here, neither of us knows a thing about that shooting."

"Yeah," Wright agreed, "We don't know anything about that shooting. Lot's of guys would like to take out that sheriff. Isn't that right?"

"Right."

"I'll take you over there to the mountains whenever you're ready," Wright told his friend. "Just let me know. Okay?"

"Okay. Now, what about the sheriff's daughter?" Aramas asked.

"I've already set plans into motion to get revenge on her--and soon," Wright replied, then outlined his plans.

"Good work!" Aramas exclaimed.
CHAPTER 9

Kimberli was true to her word, as was her dad; at least one of them called Matt every single day. On some days, Matt heard from both Kimberli and her dad. Somehow it was comforting to him to know that they cared enough about him to call, yet he found himself almost resenting the constant intrusions into his solitude. Still, as he became more comfortable with their care and concern for him, his need for isolation from the world became less. Not that he could yet admit that to anyone except himself, but it was so.

Kimberli had said she'd help him with his hurt. Somehow, she'd managed to do just that. The pain of losing Allene was still with Matt, of course, but Kimberli's concern for him had helped ease that pain. Conversations with her were beginning to be something he seriously looked forward to, yet nagging at the back of his mind was the mental image of that 'good looking' man in Kimberli's life--Stanley Shirron.

It was a week after Matt was able to return to his cabin from his hospital stay that Dave called. They chatted briefly and then Dave got right to the point of his call: "Darlene and I would like for you to come to our house for dinner some evening real soon. When's a good day for you to do that?"

Matt thought for a moment. "I'd like that, but are you sure you can stand having me around? I'm not much to look at, what with the bandages and stitch-marks and all. Maybe you'd rather wait a while until I'm looking better?"

Dave chuckled. "We won't let the bandages and stitches bother us, Matt. Not one bit. After all, we both know how you got 'em. Okay? What's a good evening for you?"

Well, if you're sure. I've got to go in to the hospital tomorrow afternoon so they can check on me and maybe change the bandages or take 'em off, whatever they think is proper. It would be easy for me to come to your house then, if that would work for you."

"Tomorrow night, then!" Dave was always enthusiastic. "That'll be just great, and we're looking forward to seeing you. Let's say at six o'clock. And Matt?"

"Um-hmm?"

"Just so you know, I think Bill will be here, too. Of course, sometimes he gets a call and has to be the sheriff."

"I understand that, and I surely like Bill. I hope he can be there. Thank you for the invitation." He was about to say 'goodbye' when something crossed his mind. "Wait, Dave! Wait a minute!"

"What's up?"

Matt chuckled, a bit embarrassed. "I'm afraid I'm not used to dinner invitations from nice people. May I bring something?"

"Oh, my no," Dave replied, warmly. "Just bring yourself, Matt. Darlene will have something good fixed for us to eat, and we're looking forward to getting better acquainted with you."

* * * * *

Darlene Lee greeted Matt at the door when he arrived. She was an attractive woman and her brown curls that now were flecked with grey and her big brown eyes immediately reminded him of Allene. He'd loved Allene's beautiful brown hair. What impressed Matt most, however, was Darlene's radiant glow. She was vivacious and joyous, radiating warmth and unabashed friendship, and Matt instantly liked her.

Bill was already there and after the men had shaken hands, Darlene announced that dinner was ready and invited them to the table. "Will you ask the blessing, Dave?" she asked.

"Sure. Let's join hands."

Matt reached for the hands of Dave and Darlene who were on either side of him and they both clasped his hands warmly. Somehow that gesture of friendship and the pastor's prayer made Matt feel at home. Allene had always insisted on saying a prayer of thanksgiving before they ate meals together. Even though the thoughts of Allene hurt, Matt had to admit to himself that these people were simply wonderful. He wished that Allene could have known them.

It was as they were finishing the meal that Matt got up the courage to ask something of Darlene. "I've been wanting to ask you something all evening," he began, just a little hesitantly, "and if I'm out of line, you just tell me."

Darlene smiled warmly, her twinkling brown eyes expressing her amusement at Matt's statement. "Okay. I'll tell you if you're out of line."

"I've been admiring your beautiful necklace and the matching earrings all evening, and I'm curious about something," Matt said. "Did you make those pieces yourself?"

Darlene's eyes flashed warmth and her whole face brightened. "Why yes, Matt. Yes, I made them, but . . . but how could you possibly have known that?"

Matt was glad that he'd asked. "When I was in college," he replied, "I worked part time for a jeweler who made exquisite gold jewelry as a very profitable sideline. He had a number of wealthy people who could afford one-of-a-kind items as his regular customers.

"Anyway," Matt continued, "he had a process that he used to make what he called 'hammered gold jewelry' and he taught me just a little about how to work with gold as well as precious stones. The gold work he and I did involved using very small hammers or sometimes a small punch to produce a delicate design on the gold such that when it caught the light just right it appeared to flicker. Your necklace has a similar pattern and you seem to me to have a great deal of artistic ability, so I wondered.

"Oh, and he also taught me some about how to work with precious stones," Matt continued, "and I could tell that the settings in your earrings had been produced by a skilled craftsman, or I should say 'craftswoman.' It's just not the kind of mass-produced jewelry you can buy commercially."

Darlene smiled. "You're very kind, Matt. Yes, I made the necklace, and by a process something like what you described. And I did make the earrings, too." She hesitated a moment, then added, "Not to brag, but making jewelry is actually a little more than a hobby with me."

"More than a hobby? Then you produce such jewelry for sale?"

Darlene's eyes danced. "Yes, I do."

"Then you must have a workplace where you can work with gold and silver and precious stones?"

Darlene nodded, a bright smile now on her face. "Yes. If you'd like, I'll show you my little jewelry shop."

"I sure would like to see it," Matt responded. "You do beautiful work, and I'd also be interested in seeing any other pieces of jewelry you've made."

"I can show you some pictures," Darlene replied. "The pieces I'm wearing are the only ones I've kept for myself, except for our wedding rings." Both Darlene and Dave held up their hands to show Matt the rings.

Matt studied the rings on Darlene's and Dave's fingers. "Oh, my! Oh, my! You do beautiful work!" he breathed, then turned to Dave. "Not very many people have the ability to do such beautiful work like that with gold and precious stones. Like my old friend used to say, it's an art and science combined. You can be awfully proud of Darlene," he said.

Dave grinned. "Thanks, Matt. I sure am proud of her. She's a gem!"

"Indeed she is." Matt turned back to Darlene. "I would like to see the pictures of the jewelry you've made."

"I'll be happy to show them to you as soon as I clear the table." Darlene giggled as her eyes met Matt's. "Now, Matt," she said, "I'm going to turn the tables on you, okay."

"Um-hmm."

"You said the jeweler you worked for taught you how to work with gold and precious stones. Have you made any pieces of jewelry?"

"Nothing as beautiful as your necklace or earrings or rings, but yes, I did try my hand at a few pieces. I still have them, and I'll show them to you sometime." Matt hesitated. He wasn't about to spoil the evening by saying that the girl he made them for never got to wear them. Turning the questions back to Darlene, he asked, "Do you have someone locally who markets your jewelry for you?"

Darlene nodded. "Yes. There's a local jeweler who has contacts in New York and London. He markets my jewelry, and he's always been fair with me."

"He really likes her work," Dave interjected, proudly. "He's always asking her for more."

"Yes, he says he can sell everything that I make. He keeps telling me to get busy."

"That's wonderful!" Matt exclaimed.

"Yes, he's been good to me," Darlene continued, "and with the money I've received, I've been able to do quite a bit for our church and for the community."

Dave turned to Matt. "That's true. Darlene has done very well financially with her jewelry, and she's contributed a great deal of her profits to various church and community projects. Not many people know that because she doesn't seek out the credit, but it's true."

Matt nodded his understanding. "That's the Christian way, isn't it?"

"It's the Christian way as I see it, anyway," Darlene responded. "You see, I figure that God gave me the ability to make jewelry that other people find attractive, so I owe Him a goodly portion of the profits."

Bill had been following the conversation. Just as he was about to describe for Matt one of the church projects Darlene supported with income from the sale of her jewelry, however, his cell phone rang. He talked with the caller briefly for a moment, then got up from his seat at the table. "Official business. I've got to go," he announced. Dave and Matt started to get up. "Keep your seats, guys," Bill said. "I can find my way out. Thanks, Darlene and Dave. See you, Matt. I'll talk to you all later."

Still later that evening, Darlene showed Matt the corner work-area in the house where she kept the equipment she used in making jewelry. She also showed him a notebook with color photographs of the jewelry she'd made and sold. To Matt, Darlene's work was absolutely superb.

And then Darlene told Matt about some of the people she'd been able to help with the profits from her "hobby." As Matt listened to her stories, he couldn't help but think of something Allene used to say: "Life isn't easy," she'd said, "but God put each of us here on earth to help one another." Darlene had become, in Matt's eyes, Christian love personified. How he wished Allene might have met her.

* * * * *

Once he was home that night, Matt rummaged through the trunk at the foot of his bed, his "treasure trunk," as he called it. Packed away in a little cardboard box were the diamond earrings he'd made for Allene. In another box he found the gold ring set with diamonds that he'd made for her.

Wave after wave of sadness swept over him and he brushed back a tear from his eye as he examined the jewelry. He'd done good work on those pieces. He'd shown them to the man in the jewelry shop who had mentored him, and the man had liked them, too. Said the work was "excellent." It was just a shame that Allene never had the chance to wear them. Now, however, Matt had found someone who would appreciate them. He'd just give them to her.

It was simply amazing how things worked together, as Allene used to say. If he'd never worked for that jeweler and made some jewelry of his own, Matt never would have recognized the craftsmanship involved in Darlene's jewelry. He'd never have guessed that she'd made the beautiful necklace and earrings she was wearing that night. He'd never have learned about the projects and people she'd helped with the proceeds from her jewelry. Matt really liked Darlene.

After examining for one last time the earrings and ring he'd made, Matt retrieved one of the small jars of gold dust and nuggets from his cabinet. There were some nice nuggets in this one. Now, where was that little wooden gift-box that he'd saved?

Three days later, when Matt went back into town to check in with the hospital about his wounds, he took the little wooden box with him. He'd carefully packed the jewelry he'd made for Allene and the small jar of gold inside that box. Having finished at the hospital, where the nurse determined that his wounds were healing nicely and cautioned him once again about getting too active too soon, Matt drove over to the church where Dave was the pastor.

Dave's blue Chevrolet was parked near the side door that led to his office at the church. Instead of going directly to that door and potentially interrupting the pastor during a counseling session or important meeting, however, Matt parked and called the office number on his cell phone. "I've got something I'd like for you to take to Darlene for me," he said. When assured that Pastor Dave was there by himself and would be pleased to see him, Matt parked alongside the pastor's car and went inside.

Matt gave the little box to Dave, assuring him that the contents were for Darlene and that she would know what they were. He did note that Pastor Dave was busy preparing next Sunday's message, so after a brief exchange of pleasantries, Matt drove back home. He'd done what he wanted to do.

* * * * *

DING! DING! DING! . . . DING! DING! DING! . . . DING! DING! DING!

It was the following evening when Matt's telephone rang.

"Hello."

"Matt?"

He recognized Darlene's voice. "Hi, Darlene."

"I'm not interrupting something, am I?"

Matt chuckled. He'd happily talk to Darlene anytime. "No, you're not interrupting anything. It's always nice to hear from you."

"I want to thank you for showing me the jewelry you made," she began, "and I want you to know that I think it's positively beautiful."

"Thank you," Matt replied. "I . . . I want you to have those things, and the gold, too."

"It's really hard for me to accept those things, Matt, because--"

"I know, but I want you to have them," Matt interrupted. "I . . . I . . . I don't have any use for them now." That had been hard for Matt to say, but it was true.

Darlene sensed the sadness in Matt's voice. "You know what I did with the earrings and the ring?"

"No."

"I took the jewelry with me when I went to see the jeweler who helps me sell my stuff. He looked them over for the longest time, used his magnifying lens and all, and then said he'd be absolutely delighted to sell them for me. Of course, he thought I'd made them and he said they were some of the best work he'd seen. He said that the diamonds were absolutely top quality, too. Oh, and he was ready to price the earrings at $28,000 and the ring at $24,000." Darlene was silent for a long moment. For a moment, Matt thought she was about to cry. "Okay, Matt," she finally continued, "The other night you said you had a question for me and that I should tell you to mind your own business if I wanted to, remember?"

"Um-hmm. I remember."

"Well, I'm going to turn the tables on you again this evening," Darlene told him. "I've got a question for you, and if it's none of my business, you'll tell me so, okay?"

Matt had a fairly good idea of what Darlene was about to ask, but it was okay. At least, he'd pretend it was. "Ask away, Darlene. I trust you." He meant that part, too.

"Okay, Matt. Here goes: You made those earrings and the ring for a very special girl, didn't you?"

Matt was silent for a moment, then whispered, "Yes. Yes, I did." He suddenly felt very, very sad.

"You never got a chance to give them to her, did you?"

Darlene's question brought back the tears to Matt's eyes. He was glad that she couldn't see them. "No. No, I didn't," he replied sadly. "She never got the chance to wear them. I feel very, very bad about that."

"I'm sorry, Matt, and I didn't mean to stir up bad memories. I . . . I hope you know I mean that."

"Yes, I . . . I know you didn't, and I . . . I appreciate that." Matt through for a moment, then continued. "Now, to change the subject, there is a way you can pay me back for the gold and jewelry."

"How's that?"

"First of all," Matt replied, "the ring and earrings I made are yours to keep or sell. Having them around makes me feel real sad, so you do whatever you want with them. If you sell them, any payment you get is yours to keep. I mean that. Second, use the gold in the little container to help make a nice piece of jewelry to keep for yourself. Wear it and enjoy it. That'll be thanks enough for me."

* * * * *

Matt sat in his recliner long into the night, reflecting on the activities and events of the past few days. He'd come close to saying the words 'I love you' to several people recently–Kimberli and Darlene and that nurse, to name three of them. And maybe what he felt toward Bill and Dave and Phil also was akin to love. When he'd moved to that cabin, he was certain that his feelings of love for another person or theirs for him would never surface again. He'd tried to keep feelings of love out of his life after Allene died because love hurt so bad when it was lost. That night he was just a little fearful that love might once again come into his life–and might just as quickly be lost again.

Better to not say 'I love you' to anyone, Matt whispered to himself over and over again. He'd loved Allene, loved her dearly, and she'd been taken away from him. So might anyone else he loved.

* * * * *

Diane had told Matt that she wanted to talk with him when he was out of the hospital. He wasn't likely to be eating at Tyler's Diner, at least for a few days, so maybe he'd best call her. If she didn't want to talk with him, he'd understand--and he wouldn't bother her again. It was with some hesitation that he dialed the diner's telephone number.

Tyler himself answered the phone. "Matt!" he exclaimed, "we've been wondering how you were getting along."

Matt assured him that he was getting along just fine, and that he appreciated their hospital visit.

"I'll bet that you want to talk to Diane," Tyler said.

"Yes."

"Well, just so you know," Tyler continued, "she's been anxious and worried about you ever since the night you got shot. Said she wished she could see you, up close and personal." He chuckled. "Those were her words." He chuckled again. "She sounds like a woman in love," he concluded, "so you'd better be on the high alert for romance."

Matt chuckled in spite of what he was thinking. Tyler was a romantic kind of guy. Matt knew that. No way was he going to tell Tyler that Diane already had a boyfriend. If he'd look around the diner, he'd probably see her having lunch with him.

"I'm going to call Diane to the phone now," Tyler was saying with a smile in his voice, "and I'll let her work her magic on you."

Moments later, Diane was on the phone. "Oh, Matt!" she exclaimed. "I'm so glad you're out of the hospital. When am I going to get to see you again?"

Matt was startled. He'd assumed that she had a boyfriend, so why was she wanting to see him again? Before he had a chance to respond to Diane's question, she asked if he was able to drive himself around now without any difficulty. When he said that he was, that he'd been out to have dinner with Dave and Darlene Lee, Diane asked the question she'd wanted to ask him ever since she'd met him: "I'd like to invite you over to my apartment for dinner," she said, "the sooner, the better. How about tomorrow night?"

"I'd like that very much, Diane," Matt responded. "Will you let me bring something?"

"Just yourself."

* * * * *

Although she'd just moved into the small apartment and had very little furniture of her own, Diane had managed to make it into a warm, inviting place. Or maybe, Matt would determine later, it was because Diane was herself the warm and inviting influence. Regardless, Matt thoroughly enjoyed himself as they shared experiences that evening.

Diane assured Matt that she'd thoroughly enjoyed meeting Pastor Dave and the others at the church he'd told her about, that she was already singing in the choir, and that she looked forward to getting involved in the church.

Mostly, though, Diane let Matt know in a number of ways just how fortunate she felt to have met him. "It's just wonderful how I came to be employed with Tyler, a man you know, and how you and I met," she told him. As Matt prepared to leave, she told him that she'd like to go hiking in the mountains with him some day, and that she hoped she could see him again--soon.

Matt assured her that he'd like that, too.

Diane wasn't ready to let him leave, not just yet. "Matt?"

"Yes?"

"Tell me if I'm out of line with my question, okay?"

"Okay." Matt smiled. He had been hearing that line several times recently.

"Tyler told me that you're very protective of your phone number, that very few people have your number," Diane began, "but if you don't mind, I'd like to be able to call you sometimes, and I promise I won't make a pest of myself."

Matt looked down, directly into Diane's warm eyes. How could he say no? "Okay, I'll give you my number, and you're welcome to call me any time. You have to realize, though, that my cell phone doesn't always work very well when I'm in the mountains."

"I understand. You're sure it's okay if I call you?"

"Yes, I'm sure." Matt wrote his phone number on a small notepad Diane gave him.

Diane wrote her telephone number on a second slip of paper and gave it to Matt. "You call me anytime," she said, her eyes expressing her pleasure.

"Okay." Matt smiled. "We'll keep in touch."

Somehow, Matt liked the idea of calling Diane--and of her calling him.

"Tyler told me that you moved out to the mountains to get away from some terrible memories, that you wanted solitude," Diane broke into his thoughts.. "He said you hadn't given out your phone number to anyone, that you hadn't even wanted a phone, but that the sheriff insisted you get one."

Matt nodded. "That's true."

"I've got some terrible memories, too. For me, though, it's best that I be around people, well, people who care about me."

Matt nodded again. "Yes, I understand that."

"Matt?" Diane whispered.

"Yes?"

"I want to be your friend," Diane whispered, "and I want you to be my friend. Please, Matt?"

"Yes, I'll be your friend."

"Could we do something together, real soon?" Diane asked.

"Yes, let's do something together."

"Oh, Matt?"

"Yes?"

"I meant to tell you. Tyler tells me that you love being in those mountains around where you live, that you've hiked and explored all over, that that's how you were able to locate that airplane with the sheriff's daughter when it crashed in a terrible snowstorm."

"Yes, I love the mountains."

"Matt?"

"Yes?"

"Would you take me hiking with you sometime?" Diane asked. "I'd really like that."

"Yes, I will. As soon as it's a little warmer, we'll go hiking," Matt assured her.

Then, as he was leaving her apartment, Diane threw her good left arm around him and held him close to her for a long moment. She didn't quite dare whisper "I love you, Matt," not just yet. That would come later, if she had her way. Of that, Diane was absolutely certain.

She'd not push him, but she'd get Matt interested in going to church with her, too. He had so much he could contribute to the Christian community. Of that, she also was certain.

* * * * *

Richard Aramas cursed aloud as he and Leonard Wright watched the news regarding the attack on Sheriff Clanin on television. They'd been thwarted by this guy named Matt Davis, a man neither of them had ever heard of before. They were especially interested in the requests to the general public for information leading to the arrest of the men who'd attempted to kill the sheriff--which meant nobody knew who'd done so.

"Ha! Ha! Ha!" Aramas laughed. "They don't have any clues as to who shot at the sheriff. Not even one stinkin' clue!" Even in the failed attempt on the sheriff's life, he'd outsmarted them all. "Ha! Ha! Ha!"

And they wouldn't find the stolen SUV Wright drove that evening either. It had been driven directly to a chop shop and was by now disassembled. Both Aramas and Wright laughed at the various descriptions of that SUV given by the people who'd witnessed the attack. They couldn't even agree on its color. Or how many people were inside.

"We're going to lay low for a few days," Aramas declaired, "and then I'm going to go for a little hike in the mountains." Both men knew what he planned to do there.

"What about the sheriff's daughter? The one who lives in Silver City?" Wright asked.

"You made the arrangements we talked about, didn't you?" Aramas questioned.

"Yeah."

"You think he's reliable?" Aramas questioned.

"He'd better be. If he ain't, well . . . ."

Aramas nodded. "If he ain't, he won't live to tell anybody who arranged things with him, right?"

"Right. We'll drive over there in a few days, whenever you're ready," Wright replied, "and we'll pay off the guy. Let him know when we want the job done. Give him instructions so he won't get caught."
CHAPTER 10

The good weather couldn't hold for long. Not at that time of the year. Matt knew that. He also knew that getting some serious exercise would be good for him, and that it would aid the healing process. As soon as he could, he wanted to get back into his routine of sit-ups, push-ups, and pull-ups, but for now he'd settle for a long hike in the mountains. The next morning, Matt dressed warmly and hiked over to the site where the early pioneer's cabin once stood.

The hike tired him more than he remembered it having done so before, and he sat down to rest on one of the stones that probably had been a part of the settler's cabin. A part of the foundation, maybe. And then he looked around at the ground around his feet, and saw something metallic reflecting dully in the bright sunlight. What was that, anyway? Moments later, Matt had the old three-cent nickel in his hand.

Last summer, Matt had found two silver dimes about twenty feet away to his right. Now he had found an old three-cent nickel. Matt brushed the dirt from the coin and polished it with his handkerchief. Like the dimes, it was well worn, but he could read the date: 1875.

There must be more old coins in the area just waiting to be found. Maybe he'd be so fortunate as to locate a settler's hoard. Locating a long-lost hoard of coins was every treasure hunter's dream, of course, and few ever managed to do so. Still, it certainly would be worth his time to bring his metal detector over here and search around. The exercise would be good for him, too. He'd do that just as soon as he got his strength back and the weather cleared for good.

After resting for a few more minutes, Matt got to his feet and began to scan the ground for any additional coins that might have surfaced. The combination of wind and rain and snow just might have removed the surface-soil and dead leaves to uncover still more treasures.

There! What was that? Something rusty-metallic was barely visible in the soil about ten feet to his left. Matt got a stick and pushed aside the dirt and brush around the object, to discover a rusty horseshoe partially buried in the ground.

Sometimes a horseshoe is just a horseshoe, but Matt knew that sometimes a horseshoe would have been buried in a particular location and positioned in a certain direction as part of a guide to denote where something of value was buried. After all, at the time when someone lived in the cabin that once stood here, many people did not have ready access to banks, and some didn't trust banks at all, often with good cause.

Before removing the horseshoe, Matt took the notebook from his pocket and drew a sketch showing where he had found the coins and the horseshoe, carefully stepping off the distances between the location of the items he'd found and various stones and trees that would serve as reference points. These precise locations just might factor into his next treasure hunt.

It was time to return to his cabin. Matt realized that he simply did not have the strength that he had before he'd been shot, and he resolved to push himself with exercise every chance he got.

Last summer, Matt had hiked over to the site of the old cabin several times in the evenings just to watch the stars come out. On a clear night in those mountains, with no extraneous light as there is in the cities to dilute their brightness, the stars were absolutely beautiful. Allene had once said that the stars in the heavens reflected the glory of God Himself. Matt could believe that. As soon as he regained his strength, he'd be back once again to witness the beauty of those stars. How he wished he could have shared the wonderful sights with Allene. She would have loved hiking in these mountains.

Back at his cabin, Matt sat down to rest on a sturdy wooden bench he'd built and placed on his front porch. Just then he spotted the scruffy little white dog trotting happily up the lane toward his cabin.

Matt couldn't help but grin as he watched the little dog come up to him, stubby tail wagging as it came. It looked to be well cared for, but it wasn't wearing a collar. Where was its owner, anyway? Matt rather expected that someone would be out looking for it. Maybe they'd be coming his way before long?

The little dog looked up at Matt for a moment, then stood on its back legs, put its front paws on the bench beside him, and looked up expectantly at his face, tail wagging happily all the while. "Come on up here, little guy," Matt invited, patting the bench as he spoke.

Sure enough. The little mutt jumped up onto the bench, settled down on its stomach, put its head on Matt's leg, and wistfully looked up into his eyes. Matt reached down and petted the furry mutt. In response, the dog snuggled even closer to Matt and licked his hand.

"I'll bet that somebody wants you back real bad, little guy," Matt said, half aloud. He'd noticed a veterinary clinic on the outskirts of town. In fact, he went past it every time he drove to the hospital. They'd know how to locate a lost dog's owner.

The little dog followed Matt eagerly and jumped up on the passenger seat of Matt's Jeep when he opened the door. A short while later, Matt carried the little dog into the clinic and told them how he'd found the dog, or rather, how it had found him.

"We'll keep the dog and advertise him as 'found' on a couple of radio stations and in the local newspaper," the veterinarian's assistant told Matt, "but there's a good chance no one will claim him. To be honest with you, a lot of people decide they don't want their pet and just dump it out somewhere. If that's the case and we can't locate his owner, do you want him?"

Matt didn't hesitate. "Sure. Before I take him home, though, I'll want you to check him over for me, make sure he's in good health, had the right shots, all the things like that. Give me a call."

* * * * *

Kimberli usually slept soundly throughout the night. That night, however, she awakened at three o'clock in the morning. Somehow it seemed to her that God had placed Matt on her mind and on her heart in a very special way. She had prayed for him regularly, of course, and now it seemed as if God was saying that it was time for her to do even more.

In fact, it had been harder and harder each and every day for Kimberli to concentrate on her work. She kept her appointments regularly and did what she could for her clients, of course, but she had spent a great deal of her time just thinking about Matt.

First of all, she thought about his needing Jesus. And then, there were her feelings toward him. Finally, Kimberli admitted to herself that she loved Matt, yet having admitted that, she also admitted that it would be unwise for her to express her love for him unless he became a Christian. After all, God's Word recommended that a believer not marry an unbeliever, and Kimberli had seen the many problems that frequently went with unions such as that.

While God was speaking to Kimberli that night, it became clear to her what she had to do. She would be going home for Easter in a few weeks. That would be an ideal time to talk seriously to Matt.

Of course, there were her feelings toward Stan to consider. He'd certainly proved to be a great companion and a lot of fun to be with. He certainly seemed interested in her. Seemed to enjoy doing things with her. Would he . . . Could he be the man God had chosen for her? She'd have to pray about her relationship with him as well as with Matt.

Kimberli worked out her plans, talked them over with God, and then satisfied that she knew what God would have her do, went back to a peaceful sleep for the rest of the night.

* * * * *

It was with some trepidation that Kimberli dialed Matt's telephone number that following evening. She knew that she was doing what she believed God would have her to do, but still she was just a little afraid that Matt just might say 'no' to either Jesus or to her. That thought brought feelings of terror to her heart. She prayed that those feelings would not keep her from doing what she must do.

"Hello." Matt's familiar voice.

"Hi, Matt."

He immediately recognized her voice. "Hi, Kimberli. What's new?"

Kimberli chatted for a few moments and then got to the point of her call: "Matt, I'm going to be home with my dad on Easter weekend. That's only two weeks away, and I'd really like to see you." The words she'd planned to say just tumbled out. Oh, my! Was she being too forward? Well, too forward or not, she'd forge ahead.

"That's great," Matt replied. "I'd like to see you, too."

So far, so good! Now for the hard part. "Matt, could we . . . could we do something together, something really nice?"

"Something really nice? Sure. What do you have in mind?" Matt asked.

Wasn't it his place to ask her for a date? Well, the worst he could do would be to say 'no.' "I . . . I don't quite know. Could we, just you and me, go to . . . to a nice quiet restaurant, where we could talk?"

"Sure, we can go to a nice restaurant if you'd like to do that," Matt agreed. "I'm afraid I'm not much of an expert on fine dining, though."

"Oh, Matt, I don't mean a fancy or expensive place," Kimberli responded. "I'm not like that. I mean a nice quiet place where we could sit and talk and eat, and . . . and, well, just enjoy one another's company. Actually, there are some things I'd like to talk over with you, and beyond that, I'd sure enjoy being with you."

"Sure, let's plan to do that," Matt said, obviously pleased with the thought of spending some time with Kimberli. "The only trouble is, I don't know much about the local restaurants. Would you mind picking the place?"

Kimberli breathed a sigh of relief. Matt was receptive to her idea. "Sure, I'll do that. Dad knows the area restaurants pretty well. I'll talk with him about them."

"That sounds good. What night would you like to go?"

Kimberli resisted the urge to tell him exactly what night she'd like to be with him, which was every night. Instead, she asked, "Would Friday night work for you?"

She knew she had to be careful not to offend Stan by spending time with Matt. But Easter would be an ideal time for her to see Matt because Stan would be going away for the long weekend--back "home" to New York to spend the Easter weekend with some relatives.

"Friday night before Easter?" Matt was saying. "Sure. I'll mark that on my calendar and look forward to seeing you."

"Wonderful. I'll be getting home sometime the Friday afternoon before Easter Sunday, and Matt," Kimberli replied. "I'm really looking forward to seeing you, too."

Kimberli breathed a prayer of thanks. Her–and God's–plans were working out. Oh, how she hoped and prayed that Matt would accept Jesus–and her.

And accepting her might not be so simple for Matt. She knew that he considered Stan to be her boyfriend. Well, she had to admit that she enjoyed being with Stan, enjoyed the way he took such good care of her when she was with him. She'd have to make some decisions soon about Stan, because she had the feeling that he had marriage on his mind. Still, this weekend, she'd spend time with Matt.

* * * * *

Easter weekend was an ideal time for Matt to agree to have dinner with Kimberli because Diane was going to be out of town for the weekend. And he did owe Kimberli some time because she'd been so very good to him. Still, Matt was torn between Kimberli and Diane. Both women seemed interested in him, but there was no doubt in his mind that Kimberli was attracted to Stan--and Stan was obviously attracted to her. Furthermore, if Diane did have a boyfriend, she certainly hadn't let him stand in the way of her getting acquainted with Matt.

* * * * *

"When ya wantta take that drive over to Silver City?" Leonard Wright asked.

"Let's do it tomorrow. We'll finalize arrangements with that kid you talked to," Richard Aramas replied. "We'll talk to that other guy, too. Get him lined up to do his thing. Bill Clanin will think twice before he messes with either of us again."

"Okay. Tomorrow it is."

"Then I've got to get out and take that hike in the mountains," Aramas continued. "I'm going to head out there when we get back."

"Have you got the supplies you'll need?" Wright asked.

"Yeah," Aramas said. "I've got some rope and the gasoline, along with a little food and water. That should be all I'll need. I haven't been in the mountains for a long time, but I bet they haven't changed much, and I'm looking forward to spending a little time there before we split for Mexico."

After that brief exchange, the two men turned their attention back to the television news--where they learned that, to date, apparently nobody had a clue as to who had attempted to murder the sheriff. Or, if they did have a clue, they weren't sharing the information with the television station. Aramas would bet that they didn't have a clue.

"Next time," Aramas told his friend, "we'll get the job done. They won't have a clue then, either."

"Right." Leonard Wright nodded his agreement.

"Ha! Ha! Ha!" Aramas laughed uproariously.
CHAPTER 11

Three days later, the veterinary clinic called Matt. "Scruffy," as they had taken to calling the little white dog, had not been claimed. No one had even inquired about him. He'd been examined by the clinic staff, given the appropriate shots, and proclaimed remarkably robust and healthy. Matt could pick him up any time.

The following afternoon, Matt picked up Scruffy. They went together to the grocery store and Matt bought several large bags of dog food and two bowls, one for Scruffy's water and one for his food. Before he took the little dog home, he also bought a bag of dog treats, a new leather collar, and a grooming brush.

When Matt was a youngster, he'd had a little white dog about like Scruffy. Called him "Scamp." Got him from what then was called the "dog pound" when he was just a puppy. Using dog treats for rewards, he'd taught the little dog several tricks. In addition to teaching Scamp how to "sit" and "stay," he'd taught him to "roll over" and how to catch a Frisbee in flight. They'd had a lot of fun together.

He'd bet he could teach Scruffy some tricks, too. Once Matt started working with the little dog, it quickly became apparent that someone already had taught him how to "sit" and "stay" and "fetch." Matt would teach him how to "roll over" and "play dead." Maybe he could teach him to catch a Frisbee, too.

Now that he was certain that Scruffy would be living with him, Matt planned to fence an area to the back and side of his cabin. He'd also install a small door in the back of his cabin so Scruffy could come and go whenever he wanted to. Matt would get started on those projects just as soon as he could.

Scruffy seemed to be absolutely delighted with his new home and master. Matt had prepared a special place for his food and water bowls, and he kept them filled. After they played each day, Matt sat down on the floor and held and stroked the little dog. For his part, Scruffy snuggled close to Matt, wagged his stubby tail, and licked Matt's hand, seemingly happy and content. Each night, when Matt went to bed, the little dog curled up right inside the front door of Matt's cabin and went to sleep.

* * * * *

DING! DING! DING! . . . DING! DING! DING! . . . DING! DING! DING!

By now, Matt was getting used to the ringing of his telephone, not that he really liked the intrusions, but he wasn't minding the calls as much as he once did.

"Hello."

"Matt, Bill Clanin here."

"Good morning, Bill."

As usual, the sheriff got right to the reason for his call: "Now that the weather's warmed up some, I want to go out and take a look at those caves we've talked about. Can we do that tomorrow, Matt?"

"I suppose so," Matt responded. "We'll need some gear that I don't have here with me, though."

"Tell me what we'll need, and I'll bring it out with me."

"Ummm, Bill?"

"Yeah?"

The sheriff wasn't going to like what Matt was about to say, but it had to be said. "I don't think that you going into those caves is a good idea, at least not first."

That idea obviously did not set well with Sheriff Bill Clanin. "Not a good idea for me to go into those caves?" he growled. "Why not?"

"Calm down, Bill," Matt replied. "You're an experienced lawman, right? We don't know for sure that Rosie is in one of those caves, but we have to go on that assumption. Do you think it's a good idea for a man, lawman or not, to be first on the scene to discover his wife's body?"

There was a long silence. "Okay, Matt," Bill sighed. "I hear you."

"We don't know what's in those caves," Matt repeated his argument for emphasis, thankful that he hadn't had to wrangle over the point with Bill. "There may be nothing at all. Then again, well . . . ."

"Okay, Matt. I know what you're saying, and I agree with you," Bill replied. "Don't like to admit it, but I agree with you. There's an experienced deputy who works with me. He is well skilled in mountain work. Learned his skills as a kid and then honed them in the service. What if we take him with us and let him take a first look in those caves?"

"I think that would be much better," Matt replied. "Depending on what he finds, you can go in later if you want to. Besides, just because I said that's where I'd hide a body doesn't mean anyone else thought of those caves as a hiding place. Let's not get our hopes up."

"Yeah, I hear you," the sheriff responded, "but you found Rosie's belt buckle near there, and we're going to check out those caves, just in case. Now, Matt, this deputy's name is Brian Olsen. I'll have him– Hold on. He just came into the office. I'm going to put him on the phone. You tell him what we're looking at and what you think you'll need by way of gear. He can get things ready for us."

"Okay. Now, Bill, there's one other thing you need to think about before we go out there."

"What's that?"

Kimberli said she wanted to go along when you went to check out those caves."

Bill Clanin thought for a moment, then replied. "Yeah, she would want to go along, but I don't think it's a good idea for her to go, so I didn't tell her we're going. I don't plan to tell her either. Not 'till after we're back."

"Somebody will have to tell her we went without her," Matt countered. "She isn't going to be happy about us not including her. You know that."

"I'll tell her what we did, but I'm gonna wait 'till after we get back," Bill reiterated. "She won't like it, but she'll understand."

Matt was not sure that Kimberli would understand, but it wasn't his call. "Okay, Bill. Put Brian on the line."

* * * * *

DING! DING! DING! . . . DING! DING! DING!

Moments after he finished talking with Brian Olsen, Matt's telephone jangled again.

"Hello."

"Matt?"

He recognized Darlene's voice. "Hi, Darlene."

"Hi, Matt. Yes, it's Darlene. Is this an okay time to talk to you for a few minutes?"

"Sure."

"First of all, Matt, are you doing okay?"

"Yes. Thank you for asking," Matt replied. "The wounds are healing up satisfactorily. At least, the nurses say so. I've been doing some hiking to get exercise and I'm looking forward to getting back into my exercise program, so I'm doing all right. Are you and Dave doing okay?"

"We sure are. Matt?"

Darlene hadn't simply called to find out how he was doing, although he was sure she was concerned. There was something else on her mind. "Um-hmm?"

"I've been admiring those earrings and the ring you made. Your technique seems to be a little different than mine, and I'm wondering if you'd show me how you worked the gold to get the effect you did?"

Matt hesitated. He wasn't about to go visit a married woman at her house by himself for any reason, but then he need not have worried.

"Matt?" It was Darlene's serious voice.

"Um-hmm?"

"I think I know why you're hesitating, and I want to assure you that Dave will be here. Actually, I'm teaching him how to work with gold, and--"

It would be okay to go to their house if both Dave and Darlene were there. "Darlene, I'll be happy to come by and show you what I know," Matt broke in, "although your work is just superb and I'm just an amateur. It ought to be the other way around. You should be the one teaching me."

"Don't run yourself down that way, Matt," Darlene countered. "You can't fool me. Remember, the jeweler who handles my jewelry praised your work, but I knew it was excellent even before he confirmed my judgment."

"You're very kind, Darlene," Matt said. "I can't come over tomorrow because Bill Clanin wants me to help him, but other than that, any time is just fine. When would you like for me to come over?"

"If you're busy tomorrow, how about the day after tomorrow? Say, one o'clock?"

"Agreed. Now, Darlene, if you've got a minute, let me ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Where did you learn to make such beautiful jewelry?"

"Fair question," Darlene replied. "When I was in college, I took a class in making jewelry. It was very basic, of course, but I learned a lot. The instructor thought I did good work and showed some of my jewelry to a jeweler who specialized in handcrafted jewelry. He said I had natural artistic talents, took me under his wing for a couple of years, and mentored me."

"Well, he surely did a good mentoring job," Matt replied. "I was just amazed when I saw your necklace and earrings the other night, and when I realized that you made them–WOW! There's no way that commercial, mass-market jewelry can compare with yours. You're a genius."

"Thanks, Matt. You're just very kind." Darlene seemed truly pleased. "I'm looking forward to learning even more, from you."

"Darlene?"

"Yes?"

"May I ask you something else, kind of personal?"

"Yes."

"And you'll tell me to mind my own business if I'm out of line?"

"Matt, I will, but that's unlikely."

"Okay, then," Matt began. "Maybe this sounds crazy, but you and Dave have a kind of radiance about you that I don't see in many people. It's as if you have an inner glow, maybe it's a genuine love for other people that shines through you. I don't know exactly how to describe it. Whatever it is, I can really feel that warmth and radiance when I'm around either of you. It's sort of like the feelings Allene and I had for each other, and I didn't quite understand those feelings either. It's like, well, like you and Dave are super-people."

"Matt." Darlene's voice was soft and beautiful, almost musical, as she spoke his name.

"Um-hmm?"

"It isn't us," she replied. "It isn't Dave or me. We're just ordinary people, no better or worse than anyone else. It's only as we let God's love radiate through us that we can most effectively minister to people. Christians who live close to God, and from what you've said, Allene must have been a tremendous Christian, radiate God's love for others. Otherwise, there's no way we could do God's work. Not effectively, anyway." Darlene paused. "Does what I'm saying make any sense, Matt?"

Matt thought for a few moments. "Yes. Yes it does. I . . . I wish . . . ." His voice trailed off. "Anyway, day after tomorrow afternoon at one o'clock, right?"

"Right."

That night as Matt strummed his guitar, he contemplated what Darlene had said, and wondered just how he might have that kind of relationship with God. Would he ever be able to love people as Darlene and Dave obviously did? To accept their love for him? Even when he hurt something awful?

* * * * *

Sheriff Bill Clanin and Deputy Brian Olsen arrived at Matt's cabin about one o'clock the following afternoon. Matt watched them alight from the sheriff's new pickup. It, too, was a white, Chevrolet crew-cab, four-wheel-drive truck, quite similar to the one that had been badly shot up a few nights ago. The truck still had that new-truck shine. Bill hadn't even had it long enough to get it dirty.

Brian was a lanky redhead with a crew cut, a good six-feet tall, and muscular. Bill had said he'd been climbing mountains most of his life. If the sheriff said he was a good man, that was good enough for Matt. At least, Matt would accept him that way until experience proved otherwise.

Matt introduced Scruffy to the men, and the little white dog enthusiastically trotted to each man in turn to be petted and made over. Once they'd gathered the gear and portioned it so that each one would carry a share of it, Matt and Scruffy led the way back into the mountains, the little dog sticking close to Matt all the way.

It took the group just over an hour to reach the bank of the stream where the caves were located. Matt pointed them out, and Brian and Bill studied their location.

Brian and Matt discussed various possibilities for reaching the caves and decided that Brian would climb down to them from above. A little later, they had ropes rigged up. Scruffy sat on his haunches and watched the work with interest, his bright eyes taking in everything that was going on, seemingly happy to be with the men.

Once the ropes were securely anchored to trees above the caves and in place, Brian climbed down the bank to the first cave and beamed his large flashlight into the opening. Matt had watched him climb, studying his every move. From the way he worked, Matt knew that this man really did know what he was doing. It was important to Matt that he have confidence in this man's ability, especially if they were to work together in such a way that his life might depend on Brian. Yes, Brian was okay.

Shifting to the left and climbing slightly farther down the ropes, Brian looked into the second cave, and then climbed on down to beam his light into the third cave before climbing up to rejoin Matt and Bill.

"I'm going to take a camera and some evidence bags with me when I climb back down there in a few minutes," Brian told them, as he gathered several items together from his duffle bag. "I'll go into each of the caves this time, that is, I'll go as far into them as I can go, but Bill, I think we're too late."

"We're too late? What do you mean, we're too late?" Bill growled the question, tension evident in his voice.

Brian sighed. "Yeah. I think we're too late."

"What do you mean, we're too late?" Bill growled again, exasperation in his voice. Had Richard Aramas thwarted him again?

"To judge from the way the dust on the floor of the top cave has been disturbed, and that's the most likely cave to have been used to hide something as large as a human body, I think something has recently been dragged out from the back of the cave," Brian explained.

"Recently, you think?" Matt questioned the deputy.

"Yeah, I'd say the marks in the dust are recent. Within the past week, anyway--and it could have been yesterday. Also, there are some marks on one of the trees above the caves that could have been made by a rope, maybe put there so somebody could climb down just like I did."

"Then it looks like somebody, probably Richard Aramas, beat us here," Bill growled.

"Yeah."

"What about the other caves? Anything in either of them?" Matt asked.

"The top one would have been our best bet. It's the only one a person could easily stash a body in. The others are smaller and shallow. Oh, I'll take a closer look in all three of the caves, but if I were going to get rid of a body, I'd definitely pick the top one. The cavern goes back quite a ways, maybe 20 feet or so, and there are enough rocks in the cave to cover or hide a body so that the casual observer looking into the entrance would never see it."

Bill sighed. "And somebody's been in there recently."

"That's the way I read things."

"Go get your pictures and any evidence you can. Once you're out of there with whatever evidence you can get, I'm going to have a look." The sheriff turned to Matt. "Are you going to climb down there? Look in the caves?"

Matt shook his head. "I don't think I will today. Maybe sometime later, after my back gets stronger." Matt certainly would go into those caves, but not today. He'd be looking for hidden treasure, or whatever else he could find in them. But he'd let Brian gather anything he could find first. After all, it was the sheriff's mission today, and not Matt's.

Brian stashed the camera, evidence bags, and other items into his backpack and climbed back down to the top cave. Moments later, he scrambled into the narrow opening.

While Brian was searching the caves and gathering whatever evidence he could find, Matt raised a question with Bill: "If somebody packed a body bag out of here, where would he go with it?"

Bill thought a few moments. "The shortest way to a highway would be to go north maybe five miles or so and then east several miles. That would get him to the road that runs up past your cabin."

Matt could and would study the area on his topographical map for possible routes someone like Aramas might take, but he wanted to get the sheriff's opinion. "Other possibilities, Bill?"

"If somebody wanted to pack the body somewhere and dump it or bury it, well, it's hard to say. Any other direction from south to north-west would take him deep into the mountains. Going east would bring him out near your cabin. Of course, if he continued north, he'd be into an old gold and silver mining area. There are abandoned mines there where he could dump Rosie's body and be reasonably sure it never would be found. It wouldn't be found without a massive search, anyway, and even then . . . ." The sheriff's voice trailed off as he shrugged his shoulders.

Matt studied his GPS unit, then turned back to Bill. "There's an old trail going north beyond the stream," he commented. "I ran across it last summer. It intersects the stream about a mile to the west of here."

"Yeah. It leads up to the mining area. Like I said, there was a little mining activity to the north of here, maybe a hundred years ago, and they came to the stream for water. Up north there is where the abandoned mines are located."

"Bill?"

"Yeah?"

"You suspect that this Richard Aramas character was involved in your wife's disappearance. Would he be physically able to climb down there, get into one of those caves, and carry off a body?" Matt asked the question he'd been wondering about.

"Sure he would," Bill responded. "He's a big guy and he's tough, and he's spent a lot of time in these mountains, and . . . ." Before the sheriff could respond further to Matt's question, Brian appeared.

"Whatcha got, Brian?" Bill asked.

"Why don't you let me get this stuff to the lab. Let the lab technicians take a look at it. Then we'll see what I have." It was obvious that Brian didn't want to say what he had. Matt could only guess that he had clothing fragments or something that possibly could be identified as the remains of Rosie Clanin. Could he have something that would identify her abductor as well? Matt doubted that, but then these days modern science helped cops a great deal with evidence.

* * * * *

Darlene answered the door and invited Matt inside. She had been working at her jewelry corner and was wearing a smock to protect her clothing. To Matt, this petite woman with the beautiful brown curls and intense eyes looked absolutely radiant. Dave stood behind her, a rugged man with a welcoming smile of his own.

Both Darlene and Dave greeted Matt warmly, took his coat, and chatted briefly. Then they led him to the workbench where Darlene had placed several tools in anticipation of Matt's visit.

"Here's a ring that Dave's working on," Darlene said proudly, as she handed the small golden circle to Matt for his inspection.

Matt studied the ring under a magnifying glass. "You're doing a good job," he encouraged Dave.

"Thanks. Let me show you what I'm not quite sure about." Dave took the ring from Matt and placed it in a jeweler's vise, then picked up the ring Matt had made several years ago and held it beside his. "The ring you made has this triangular pattern. I'd like to do that on mine."

"Okay. I'll show you how, but not on the ring you've been working on, because I might damage it. Let me have a scrap piece of gold to work with instead."

Darlene put a practice ring in the jeweler's vise. Matt picked up the tools and demonstrated how he'd worked the ring he'd made some time ago, just a little surprised that he actually remembered how, and that the skills came back to him so easily. "Now you try it, Dave," he suggested.

Dave tried, and with Matt's coaching, was soon well on his way to mastering the technique. "You're doing fine," Matt reassured him, as he carefully examined Dave's work under a magnifying glass. "You just need to practice."

"It takes a lot of practice, doesn't it." Dave reflected. "Just like anything worth doing," he added.

"Yes, lots and lots of practice and a good supply of patience, but Dave, you've already got the best factor going for you."

"What's that?" Dave asked.

"A great teacher–in Darlene."

"I'd agree." Dave grinned. "I really got a winner when I married her."

Darlene giggled and smiled warmly at the compliment. She had been intently watching Matt's demonstration. "Let me see if I can do that," she said. Dave handed her the tools.

It was obvious that Darlene had a great deal of training and experience in working with gold. She quickly mastered Matt's technique, her nimble fingers rapidly moving the tool over the gold to produce the desired textured surface. Both Dave and Matt encouraged her.

Both Dave and Darlene practiced Matt's technique for a while as Matt watched and coached. Darlene was obviously a suburb professional when it came to constructing jewelry, and it was obvious to Matt that Dave was developing skills that one day would match hers. Both Dave and Darlene were very talented people. They obviously had their lives together, too.

Watching them work brought back many memories of his own days spent working in the jewelry store and his instruction in making jewelry. "Keep up your skills, Matt," his mentor had told him, "and you'll never have to worry about an income." Well, Matt went off to the military instead, having never had the chance to seek employment as a civil engineer after graduating in that field, or the chance to work at designing and constructing jewelry–except for those earrings and the ring. And the girl he'd made them for was dead now, and he'd given the pieces away. Thinking those thoughts made him very sad.

When he'd met Darlene and Dave, he'd met the most wonderful couple he'd ever known. Both of them simply radiated love and care and Darlene had been so humble as to say that it wasn't them, but that it was God's love shining through them. Allene used to say something about Christians being the 'salt of the earth.' Well, if anybody he'd ever met was the 'salt of the earth,' it was Darlene and Dave.

"Matt?"

Darlene's saying his name brought him back to the present. "Sorry, I guess I was daydreaming," he said, sheepishly.

She smiled. "That's okay. What do you say we take a break. I baked some little cakes and I'll made some fresh coffee."

"Sounds great."

Darlene removed her smock and led the three of them into the kitchen. "You guys will want to wash your hands while I get the goodies out," she said. Dave showed Matt where to wash.

Once the three were seated at the table, Darlene asked Dave to pray over the food. The three joined hands just as they had a few nights ago, and Dave gave thanks for the food and for the friendship. "We've all got so much to be thankful for," Dave prayed, "and right now we're especially thankful for Matt's friendship and the blessings he brings to us."

Wow! Matt had never heard anyone except Allene pray like that before. This kind of friendship was something Matt really liked–the kind of friendship he wanted. Well, now was a great opportunity to find out how it all worked.

"So tell me about how you became a Christian," Matt questioned Dave as they ate the delicious cakes that Darlene had prepared.

"I got here by a very roundabout way," Dave began. He told Matt how he'd grown up in a terrible family setting, his dad being an alcoholic who abandoned the family when Dave was only six years old. "Mom had to work day and night at whatever jobs she could find to keep us alive and together," he explained. "As soon as I could, I started working at odd jobs, and then I got in with the wrong crowd and my life started to go downhill. I only had one thing going for me–my Christian mom.

"My mom prayed for me day and night, and God answered her prayers for me by sending a youth pastor from her church to befriend me. He got me involved in a church league basketball team, where I had the first real successes of my young life, and then he led me to Jesus. I wanted to share what happened to me with others. That's when I decided to become a preacher.

"It wasn't easy, of course. I didn't have much money for college, but the church helped me with finances. After college I went to seminary and became a chaplain. When I left the service, this church called me to be the pastor, and here we are.

"But," Dave continued, before Matt could respond, "you didn't ask for my life story. You asked how I became a Christian, and I'll try to tell you. I mentioned the youth pastor who befriended me. One day, he got me aside and laid some heavy stuff on me. He told me that I had to make a choice, that I could continue down the path I was taking, end up in jail and likely waste my life, or I could elect to follow Jesus's teachings, change the direction I was going, and make something of myself. I told him I didn't know how, and he said he'd help me, that the first thing I needed to do was to give my heart and my life to Jesus. He helped me, and I did that, right then and there. Then he got me into what essentially was a twelve-step recovery program for teens.

"One day they took me and some other teens for a tour of the county jail and I got to see first-hand the place where I could easily have ended up. Some of the inmates talked to us and told us to do whatever it took to stay out of there. So, Matt, I'm here to tell you that whatever good there is in me now is a direct result of God's taking a hand in my life."

All the time Dave was talking, Darlene was silently yet fervently praying that Matt would understand his own need for salvation. He was so close to doing so.

Allene already had established the groundwork for Matt's eventual acceptance of Jesus. She'd witnessed to him and prayed for him, and she'd lived in such a way that he could see God's influence in her activities. More recently, Kimberli and Darlene and Dave and a host of others had not only prayed for him but also had shown him their compassion and their love for Jesus and for each other. Now, it was time for those years of prayer and teaching to come to fruition in Matt's life.

Matt sat quietly for a few moments, thinking before he spoke. "A few days ago," he began, "I told Darlene that you both have the most wonderful warmth and radiance about you that I've ever experienced, and she told me that it was because God's love radiated through you. So, Dave, how can I have that same kind of relationship with God?"

As Dave began to explain God's wonderful plan of salvation, Darlene quietly slipped away and went to her bedroom. There, she dropped to her knees, closed her eyes, and clasped her hands in an attitude of prayer. "Thank you, Jesus," Darlene breathed aloud. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"
CHAPTER 12

The following morning, Matt studied his topographical map and checked several points on his GPS unit while he ate breakfast and drank several cups of coffee. If somebody actually took a corpse or a body bag out of one of those caves recently and then hiked out of that area with it, he just might be able to pick up the trail. The possibility of tracking the man responsible for the hurt he'd caused Bill and Kimberli and actually finding him excited Matt.

Bill had speculated on the direction the person might take when he left the caves. Matt could go with that, but he'd circle about as well, just in case the person went another way. With another late-winter storm possibly moving in later in the week, he'd better gather up some gear and get started. "Let's go, Scruffy," he called, a little later. The little white dog wagged his stubby tail. He was ready to go.

Matt wondered for a moment if he should start his search at the source, if he should climb down and take a look into those caves for himself. His back was healing and getting stronger, yet he wasn't quite ready to put any extra strain on it. Besides, he could assume that Brian Olsen had done a thorough job. Matt would look into those caves a little later in the spring. In fact, he'd wanted to explore them ever since he'd spotted them. What treasure hunter wouldn't? There just hadn't been enough time last summer.

Scruffy seemed happy to stay by Matt's side as they hiked. It wasn't long before they reached the site where the old cabin once stood. Matt sat on one of the ancient foundation stones and rested for a few minutes, judiciously scanning the ground around him for any collectible objects as he did so. No old coins or artifacts had surfaced since he'd been there. He just had to get over here with his metal detector.

Scruffy sat quietly beside Matt, alert to anything that moved. He sensed that Matt was looking for something important that morning and he'd seen Matt slip his gun into his jacket pocket, so the little dog had a sense of possible danger.

After a brief rest, both Matt and Scruffy got to their feet. Their next stop was the stream near the caves. Matt couldn't be exactly sure how someone who retrieved a body from one of those caves might have left the area. He hadn't spotted any unusual signs of previous human activity above the caves where they'd been two days ago, so he'd first search the stream bed directly below the caves.

Once again, Matt stopped to study his topographical maps. If you were hiking out of here with a body, he asked himself, how would you do it? What path would you follow? The answer seemed clear. He'd follow the stream to where it intersected that ancient trail leading north and east, then follow it to . . . .

To? To where? What would be his intent in moving the body, anyway? Would he try to bury the body somewhere along the trail where the soil actually was deep enough to accommodate a body, or would he try to dispose of it in an abandoned mine shaft, or would he hike to the highway with the body and haul it away in a vehicle? Or would there have been enough of a body left to bury? Matt had raised the questions. Now it was up to him to answer them, but that wouldn't be easy. His best approach, he knew, would be to think like the man who had moved or was even now moving that body. It wasn't easy to think like a psychopath.

Matt walked the bank near the stream bed, looking for any evidence that another person had been there recently. It was the stream where he'd successfully panned for gold last summer, so he was familiar with it, at least to a point. Next summer, he'd set up a sluice there.

The stream itself was mostly frozen over. The ground along the banks was semi-frozen as well, so it was doubtful that he would find any foot prints. Wait! There! There it was! Matt's first clue that anyone had been by here recently, a crushed cigarette butt, was lying on the frozen ground.

Bill had said that Richard Aramas was familiar with these mountains. He'd also said he was a psychopath. There was, Matt knew, the good possibility that Aramas was still nearby, maybe getting his kicks by watching people search for the body he'd hidden years ago. With that thought in mind, Matt turned off his cell phone so that it wouldn't ring and alert anyone, Aramas in particular, to his presence.

Aramas might even have been watching two days ago when the men investigated those caves. He'd have known exactly what they were looking for. He most likely was armed, and he just might set up an ambush. He'd apparently tried to kill the sheriff once. He might try again. And if not the sheriff, he might try to kill anyone he recognized as being with the sheriff yesterday.

* * * * *

Kimberli could hardly contain her joy at Darlene's news that Matt had become a Christian. Dave had led him to Jesus. Oh, how that thrilled her. She knew now that she wanted that wonderful, handsome man for her very own life partner. Or did she? What about Stan? Stan had been so very nice to her, taking her out to dinner, and to several movies. He certainly was a lot of fun to be with. By contrast, Matt seemed to be serious most of the time.

Still, the tremendous sense of joy at Matt's becoming a Christian overshadowed any apprehension she might feel. After all, didn't the very angels in Heaven rejoice when a person became a Christian? She just had to rejoice with Matt. Her Matt! That's how she'd think of him from now on. Her fingers trembled with happiness as Kimberli dialed Matt's telephone number.

* * * * *

Scruffy sniffed the cigarette butt. "We're looking for the guy who smoked this," Matt whispered to the dog as he picked up the butt with a handkerchief, placed it in a clear plastic bag, marked the bag, and then placed the bag into his backpack. That done, Matt took out his notebook and marked on his hand-drawn map where he'd found the remains of the cigarette. Maybe a lab could get a DNA sample from that cigarette. That might help identify the person who'd been here recently.

Something about this setting made Matt extremely uneasy. He was moving into what would be an ideal spot for an ambush. His hope was that the man who'd dropped that cigarette butt was anxious to get out of there and would keep moving, but he couldn't count on that. He might be somewhere up ahead in the mountains. He also might know that he was being pursued. He probably had a rifle, maybe the automatic rifle he'd used to shoot at Bill and Kimberli. With those thoughts in mind, Matt instinctively loosed the flap on the jacket pocket containing his pistol and checked it to be certain it was fully loaded. He checked again to be absolutely sure he'd turned off his cell phone. He had.

Matt continued to follow the stream, becoming ever more cautious, keeping to the trees or whatever cover he could find. He'd followed trails much like this one in Afghanistan, but there he'd usually had someone watching his back and maybe a point man on either side. He'd also worn bullet-proof body armor, armor that had taken the hits and saved his life on several occasions.

Up ahead was the ancient trail that led north into the long-abandoned mining camps and then east to the highway. There would be abandoned mines aplenty several miles to the north where a man might dispose of a body. If the guy's aim was to keep Bill Clanin from ever claiming his wife's body, the vast number of old mine shafts certainly would provide an infinite number of hiding places.

At one time there had been a bridge across the stream at the point where it intersected the trail. While the main trail went north, the trail actually continued just a little ways to the south of the stream and then ended. The rotted remains of the bridge timbers still were visible, the bridge having fallen into disrepair after the miners worked out the mines and left the territory many years ago.

Matt paused and worked his way around the entire area when he reached the remains of the bridge. The sheriff had assumed that the person they were seeking would follow the trail to the north. What if he had turned south instead? Or kept going west? He'd known about those caves, and he just might know of another nearby, out-of-the-way, hiding place.

Keeping to the trees so as not to be highly visible, Matt and Scruffy circled the bridge site in ever widening circles looking for trampled brush, cigarette butts, or anything else that might provide a clue as to which direction the man had taken.

There! The heavy underbrush was trampled to the west of the bridge. The man Matt was tracking had not turned north or south, at least not yet. Instead, he'd continued west along the stream. This guy was no dummy. He knew what people would assume he'd do, and he did something else.

Scruffy soon found the next clue, a broken match off to the right. Maybe the man had lit another cigarette. Sure enough, a few hundred yards down the stream was another crushed cigarette butt. Matt noted where he'd found each item and then added the cigarette butt and the broken match to numbered plastic bags which he placed in his backpack.

The man's trail was leading into a region where Matt had not been before. Maybe he'd better call Bill and let him know where he was and what was happening. Maybe Phillip Scott could bring the chopper out here. But then he hadn't really found anything of interest to them yet. He'd wait to place that call until he actually had something to report, if he ever did.

Scruffy now had his nose in the air and was sniffing the air, his stubby tail rigid. He'd sensed something up ahead. Matt knelt down beside the little white dog and stroked his head as he studied the surrounding landscape. "What is it, Scruffy?" he whispered.

In response, the dog started off to the west, moving slowly, sniffing the air, taking one cautious step at a time, glancing back over his shoulder with each step to see if Matt was following. He was, and the Colt now was out of his jacket pocket and in his hand.

Scruffy stopped abruptly at the edge of a small clearing and stood there, his ears alert, looking straight ahead. Matt saw then what the dog has sensed earlier, a pile of fresh ashes in the middle of that clearing.

A faint smell of burned human remains reached Matt's nose. He'd smelled that terrible odor before. His guess was that they'd found Rosie's remains–burned to ashes. It would only take a rainstorm or a good wind to erase what must be Richard Aramas's handiwork, his final act of revenge against the sheriff that would prevent Bill from ever being able to give Rosie the proper burial he desired.

There was no sign of Aramas anywhere. That didn't mean that he wasn't nearby, of course, but Matt doubted that he'd hang around after he burned the remains.

Matt cautioned Scruffy to stay with him, then viewed the ashes through his binoculars. There appeared to be a shred of what once was blue denim, and there were obvious bone fragments that probably could be identified if they could get those ashes out of there before it stormed. There also were a few fragments of a grey material, perhaps from a grey vinyl body bag?

Before he called the sheriff, however, Matt cautiously circled the clearing, gun in his hand, keeping to the brush for as much concealment as possible. There were no signs of nearby human activity. Those might or might not be Rosie's ashes, but it was time to call Bill.

Wait! What was that splash of red under some brush to his left? Matt circled the place where he'd seen the object, then went directly to the red gasoline can that was partially hidden there. Aramas, or someone, had apparently come into those mountains prepared to burn that body.

Matt and Scruffy left the gasoline can where it was and climbed to the top of a nearby rise. There, Matt cautiously looked around, first close by and then through his binoculars. To the best of his knowledge, he was alone. Still, he'd seen someone try to kill Bill and Kimberli just a few days ago, and there would be any number of places a sniper could hide here in the wilderness.

Bill Clanin answered the phone. "Where are you, Matt?" He immediately asked. Before Matt could answer, the sheriff quickly added, "You've got Kimberli worried sick 'cause you won't answer your phone. She's been trying to reach you all afternoon."

Matt ignored the sheriff's reference to his daughter and quickly summarized the situation, then gave Bill his location. "Matt!" Bill's voice was gruff. "You sit tight right there and keep an eye on things until I get Phil and me in the air. Don't risk tangling with Aramas. That's an order. We'll put the chopper down in the nearest clearing and I'll hike over there with you. I want those ashes and I want that gas can. Oh, and by the way, Matt, Rosie was in that cave. I recognized a little fragment of a ball-point pen as part of one she used to carry in her shirt pocket. It was in the stuff Brian pulled out of that cave."

Matt kept his voice soft. "Bill?"

"Yeah, Matt?" Impatience echoed in the sheriff's voice.

Matt didn't want to say it, but he had to. "I know you want those ashes and I understand that," he replied calmly, "but I think it's best if someone other than you gather them. Same reason why I didn't want you going into those caves a few days ago. Can you bring Brian Olsen out here with you?"

* * * * *

DING! DING! DING! . . . DING! DING! DING!

Bill Clanin was on the phone. He was in the chopper because Matt could hear the engine and rotor noise in the background.

"If Richard Aramas is the man you're tracking like I think he is, he can give you bad trouble," the sheriff cautioned. "He knows those mountains. He's killed before and he'll kill again. Now, you sit tight. Once I've got those ashes, we'll do a little more searching from the chopper before it gets dark."

Matt waited and looked over the mountains, familiarizing himself with the terrain as he listened for the chopper. He'd come quite a ways farther from his cabin than he'd ever been before. With the way things were working out, it would be late before he and Scruffy would be able to get back home that night. He'd brought food and water for himself and Scruffy, but Matt was getting tired. Scruffy was, too.

WHUMP! WHUMP! WHUMP!

In the distance, Matt heard the characteristic sound of a helicopter. The sound grew louder.

WHUMP! WHUMP! WHUMP!

This was not the same chopper they'd flown to pick up Kimberli. The sound was similar, but this chopper was smaller.

The helicopter swooped down right over Matt's head and began to circle. Phil was searching for an appropriate landing site. Minutes later, the chopper was on the ground. Matt admired Phil's skill with the choppers. The man was an excellent pilot.

Brian Olsen climbed down from the chopper, carrying a large duffle bag. Matt stood up and waved to him. Together they climbed down the mountainside to where Matt and Scruffy had found the ashes.

Matt kept an eye on the surroundings for any sign that Aramas was nearby while Brian Olsen studied the ashes. Didn't see any signs of the man.

The deputy went about his business carefully so as not to destroy any evidence. He took photographs from different angles, made notes in his notebook, and finally placed the ashes and bone fragments into several large containers. A little later, they retrieved the gasoline can. Matt guessed that it had been wiped clean of fingerprints, but they might get something from it. "Come on," Brian said to Matt, as he cast a last cautious look around the area, "Let's you and me get out of here."

Matt gave Brian the cigarette butts and match he'd collected on the trail as he walked to the chopper with him. "I'm heading home," he told Bill. "Good luck searching for Aramas."

"You'd better come with us, Matt," the sheriff insisted. "We'll take you back to town when we're finished searching. I'll buy you dinner and then I'll bring you home."

Matt looked at the little chopper. Bill's offer was tempting, but Matt was familiar with helicopters and he knew that this chopper would be at or slightly over it's maximum capacity if he climbed on board. "No. Thanks for the offer, but you'd be overloaded with me and Scruffy aboard. I'm tired, and we're going home," he said. Without giving the sheriff a chance to argue with his decision, Matt turned and walked slowly away, Scruffy at his side.

WHUMP! WHUMP! WHUMP!

Matt turned and watched the little chopper lift off and then begin to fly a low search pattern over the area where they'd found the ashes and the gas can. Matt hoped they didn't draw rifle fire from Aramas. The chopper wasn't armored.

The long hike through the mountains had proved extremely tiring for Matt. When he reached an outcropping of rock, he sat down to rest. Scruffy flopped down beside him. The little dog was tired, too.

Matt had packed some dog food in a bag for Scruffy and the little dog devoured his meal quickly. Matt poured some water from his canteen into a jar-lid dish and Scruffy lapped it.

With Scruffy fed and watered, Matt fished an energy bar from his backpack and ate it slowly, then drank heartily from his canteen. The snacks refreshed them both. They'd make it home now.

Matt studied his GPS unit, trying to determine the best way back to his cabin. He still was a long way from home, and it was going to be dark before long. Well, he'd made the trek after dark before. Of course, he hadn't sensed any danger when he'd been out there before. He sensed danger now. Serious danger. Who knew where Aramas might be hiding.

Bill had said that Kimberli was worried about him. He supposed he should call her, but then her dad could do that. Bill would want to tell her about the discovery of her mother's ashes anyway. Better that he keep moving. Let Bill make that call.

Matt's back was beginning to hurt. His head also was aching. He sat down to rest again, and took two aspirin from the first-aid kit in his backpack.

As the sun set, it began to get cold. Matt had dressed for the afternoon and not the night. He hadn't anticipated being out that late. He'd been cold before, though. He could make it. He could still hear one of his instructors say, "Just keep putting one foot in front of the other and you'll get to where you want to go."

Thoughts of Allene and the wonderful times they'd had together seemed to flood into Matt's mind whenever he got really tired. Tonight was no exception. He'd given away the tape they'd made of her singing with his band and the jewelry he'd made for her, and he didn't have much left to remember her by–except the terrible ache in his heart and those memories of the happy days they'd spent together.

He'd come out here into these mountains to be alone with his memories and his grief. People hadn't let him live that way. Maybe he would have to move farther away, go somewhere where nobody would ever even know his name.

Allene wouldn't want him thinking like that, of course, but it was getting harder and harder for him to put one foot in front of the other. Next time he came out here, he'd bring his sleeping bag. Next time would be tomorrow. Tomorrow his search for Richard Aramas would begin in earnest.

* * * * *

Stanley Shirron was not at all put off by Kimberli's refusal to go to a motel with him following their earlier dinner party. In fact, what he'd been doing was testing her, finding out exactly what kind of woman she was. And, she'd passed his " motel test" with flying colors. He'd let her know that, too.

The truth was, he simply couldn't believe it. He'd romanced countless women in his career, and he'd never been refused like that. That was a plus in Stan's book, and he made sure he let Kimberli know how thrilled he was with her company. Nor would he ever again ask her to spend the night in a motel with him.

In Stan's thinking, Kimberli was the most beautiful woman at the rescue mission, certainly one of the most attractive women he'd ever known. She'd obviously enjoyed his attention, and the ride in his Porsche. Yeah, she was a woman he wanted to get to know better--much better--all right. The visit to a motel could come later. Stan was confident of that.

Kimberli was beautiful, all right, Stan told himself, but she needed a man who'd help her into more fashionable living. She'd look really great in a little black dress, especially if she spent some time in a tanning salon. Christians should look not good--but great, right? And Kimberli did need a new car. There wasn't any reason she shouldn't have a nice sports car like his. Yeah, with a little urging from him, Kimberli could be his ideal doll--smart, sexy, and sophisticated. She'd turn heads anywhere.

To Stan's knowledge, Kimberli didn't have any boyfriends, unless you could call this Matt Davis character a boyfriend. Why a beautiful, sophisticated woman like Kimberli would be interested in a guy like him, a guy living back in the mountains by himself, Stan didn't know. Who'd want to live by himself back in the mountains, anyway? It's was way beyond Stan's way of thinking.

There was, in Stan's opinion, nothing sophisticated about Matt Davis. He'd not come right out and say so, but he'd make sure Kimberli appreciated that fact. No! She deserved a guy like him, someone who could appreciate the finer things in life.

There was one other guy, a client of Kimberli's, who seemed quite interested in her, although Stan didn't think she was interested in him. In fact, Stan had seen the man watching her when she arrived in the mornings. Once he was sure the man followed her in his car when she drove away. Stan wondered if Kimberli knew that someone was, well, stalking her. If she were being stalked, she might consider leaving the mission. He'd put an end to that; he'd have a talk with the man at his first opportunity. Tell him to leave Kimberli alone. She didn't need a guy like him, anyway. Yes, Stan would keep Kimberli for himself.

In the meantime, he'd certainly keep romancing Kimberli. Get her in his Porsche for another long ride with the top down. Take her to church like he'd planned to the night somebody shot at her and her dad. Take her to dinner again, take her to dinner at the finest restaurants in the city, and to the movies, to the latest releases. Just maybe . . . he'd get lucky! He'd make that beautiful woman his wife!
CHAPTER 13

It was well after midnight when Matt finally reached his cabin. Scruffy seemed to suddenly gain a great burst of energy as they got close to home. To Matt's surprise, the little dog ran completely around the cabin and the garage while Matt fumbled at the lock on the door, then darted past Matt and inside the cabin when the door was opened. It was then that Matt realized what the little dog was doing; Scruffy was checking for any signs of unwanted guests. He'd never taught the little dog to do that. Perhaps a previous owner had? Or maybe it was some sort of survival or protective instinct? At any rate, Scruffy was proving to be an excellent companion.

Matt was totally exhausted. His first task was to put some more firewood into his heating stove. Then, after removing his jacket and his boots, he wrapped a heavy blanket around himself and dropped down on the thick rug in front of his heating stove. Scruffy again curled up by the front door. Somehow, with the little white dog nearby, Matt felt well protected as he dropped off to sleep.

* * * * *

DING! DING! DING! . . . DING! DING! DING! . . . DING! DING! DING!"

The harsh jangle of Matt's cell phone woke him from a sound sleep the following morning. Who could be calling him at this hour?

This hour? Whoa! It was light outside! What time was it, anyway? A quick glance at his clock informed Matt that it really wasn't all that early. In fact, it was almost eleven o'clock. He'd slept almost ten hours, testimony to how exhausted he'd been from yesterday's activities in the mountains.

"Hello." he managed.

"Hi, Matt."

Matt recognized Darlene's voice. "Hi, Darlene," he mumbled. "Er, pardon me if I sound sleepy. I got home and to sleep late last night, and I . . . I just woke up. Sorry."

Darlene giggled. "I'm not surprised, and you need not feel sorry. Dave talked to Bill most of last night after he got home, so they're as sleepy as you are. They tell me that you had a long, hard day yesterday."

"I'm not completely over those gunshot wounds yet, I guess," Matt conceded. "Anyway, I had quite a hike and I was tuckered out."

"I can understand that. Matt?"

"Um-hmm?"

"I just wanted to talk to you for a few minutes, okay? Is this a good time?" Darlene asked.

"Sure. I'm still a little sleepy, but if you can make allowances for that, it's a good time."

"I can do that. First of all, I'm so happy that you became a Christian. As Dave was saying to me again this morning, you're now our brother in Jesus. You're not just our wonderful friend, but we're all children of the King, King Jesus. So, you're both our wonderful friend and our brother in Jesus. I'm so very happy!"

"Thank you, Darlene," Matt replied. "I'm happy, too. I know there are a lot of things I have yet to learn about being a Christian, but I'm sure glad to be one, and I do appreciate your friendship."

"Those things you want to learn will come with time, Matt. I know they will, and we'll all be upholding you in prayer as you grow in Christ."

"Thank you." Darlene was so reassuring.

"This next is not as nice a thing to talk about, but Matt, I want you to know just how much having Rosie's remains means to Bill and Kimberli. They were certain she was dead, so that's no surprise to them, but not being able to bury her physical remains really troubled both of them."

"Yes, I know that."

"Bill knew that her spirit was in Heaven," Darlene continued, "but it still means a great deal for him to know where her earthly remains are buried. Kimberli feels the same way. And, Matt, it means a whole lot to all of us that you took the initiative and went out there and found Rosie's remains."

Before this conversation continued, Matt figured they'd better clarify something. "Darlene?"

"Yes?"

"Is Bill absolutely certain that those really are Rosie's ashes?"

"Yes, Bill's quite certain they're Rosie's," Darlene replied. "One of the technicians identified them as hers late last night. I think they used dental records."

"I see. Will there be a church service, Darlene?"

"Yes, that's one of the things Bill and Dave talked about last night. We'll be having a memorial service for Rosie at the church, and then she'll be properly buried in the cemetery. I'm not sure yet of the day, probably right after Easter weekend, but the date hasn't been set yet. I do hope you'll be able to attend the service. It will mean a lot to Bill and to Kimberli to have you there."

"I'll plan to do that."

"Matt?"

"Um-hmm?"

"I guess you know that Bill really likes you. He had nothing but praise for you."

Matt hesitated for a moment. "Sometimes it's hard for me to believe that anyone really likes me now that Allene is gone, but yes, I guess he does like me."

"Of course, he does, Matt, and Kimberli absolutely adores you," Darlene responded. "I hope you know that, too."

"I . . . I don't--"

"And Matt," Darlene interrupted, "Dave and I really love you as our brother in Jesus. If you ever get to feeling that nobody likes you, just remember that a whole bunch of us do love you. Not only do we like you, but we love you."

Matt saw no reason to tell Darlene of his plans to search for Richard Aramas. There was no reason why she or anyone else should worry about him. It was his decision, and no one knew for certain that Aramas was still in the mountains. Matt's search might prove to be useless. In that case, there would be no reason for anyone to know he'd searched for the man.

* * * * *

Matt had not intended to sleep so late that morning, so he was pleased that Darlene had called and woke him up when she did. After a hearty breakfast of eggs, ham, and fried potatoes, he studied his topographical map of the area and then began to assemble the gear he'd need. He'd tracked Richard Aramas from the caves to where he'd left the ashes of Rosie's body. Now, he was determined to find the man himself.

Would Aramas still be in those mountains? Matt had no way of knowing for certain, of course, but the sheriff was watching the highways where he might most logically emerge and there were no reports that anyone had yet seen the man. Matt's guess was that he still was in those mountains. More than likely, Aramas would lay low for a few days, and then, once people stopped looking for him, would call and have someone pick him up at some point along the highway.

It was tempting for Matt to spend the day at his cabin resting, but that would put him well behind in his search. Besides, stormy weather would be moving in within another day or so, and it wouldn't be possible to track Aramas or even to move about easily in the snow.

Matt checked his cell phone for voice messages. He'd had several calls, including some from Kimberli and one late last night from Bill. The late call simply asked Matt if he were all right and said they'd not located Richard Aramas in their helicopter search. "I wouldn't be surprised to find that Aramas is still in those mountains," the sheriff concluded, "but I don't know where to begin looking." Matt knew where he'd begin looking.

By now Bill would have called Kimberli to let her know what they'd been doing. From what Darlene said, she must know about them finding her mother's remains. Matt wanted to check in with her, too. He started to call her at work and then stopped before he completed dialing her number. The last time he'd called her at work she'd been with a client and he'd gotten that 'good looking' Stanley Shirron asking if he could help him. Forget that. Stanley Shirron couldn't help him with anything. He'd make it a point to call Kimberli that evening when she was at home.

Matt and Scruffy set off into those mountains in search of Richard Aramas shortly after one o'clock. He'd taken along his sleeping bag and extra food and water, not only for himself but for Scruffy. He'd strapped his Ka-Bar knife to his belt, too. It might prove invaluable in the wilderness. As a final step in preparation for this mission, Matt slung his rifle over his shoulder.

Many things Matt did seemed to trigger images in his mind, many if not most of which he wished he could forget. When he'd picked up his Ka-Bar knife that morning, he'd been instantly reminded of something that happened when he was visiting Allene a few months before she died.

One of her helicopter crew members had obtained a huge jar of peanut butter, a jar of strawberry jelly, and a fresh loaf of bread. Matt's mental image as he strapped on his Ka-Bar knife that day was of Allene seated cross-legged on the floor, her own Ka-Bar knife in hand. She'd made delicious peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for the crew, including Matt, using that big knife to spread the peanut butter and jelly on the bread. Those had been happy days. Those guys were all dead now.

The extra gear weighed heavily on Matt's back. He'd been used to carrying a 200 pound pack in Afghanistan, but that was before he'd taken that bullet in his back. Well, he'd just have to take things a little easier until he completely regained his strength and stamina. Taking things easy was not Matt's way.

Matt and Scruffy rested when they came to the site of the old cabin. They rested again when they reached the bank above the caves where Rosie's body had been hidden. Now it was time for some serious tracking.

The ashes and empty gas can had been found west of the ruins of the old bridge. Matt circled the clearing where they'd been found, looking for signs that would indicate which way Aramas went from there. He was assuming it was Aramas he was stalking, but of course, he couldn't be absolutely certain. Regardless of who was out there, Matt was determined to find him.

Matt and Scruffy circled the clearing several times, but there was nothing to indicate which direction Aramas had taken. This seemed most unusual to Matt because he'd not done much to cover his trail to that point.

As Matt and Scruffy searched in ever-expanding circles around the site where they'd found the ashes, however, the little dog suddenly darted to one side and into the brush. Matt's hand closed on the pistol in his pocket as he followed Scruffy. There, on the ground behind a clump of brush to the north of the clearing, was the torn wrapper of an energy bar. They'd found their first clue as to the direction Aramas had taken. Aramas was moving north, perhaps north and east.

"Good job, Scruffy." Matt sat, petted the little dog, and studied his GPS unit for a moment. If Aramas continued in that direction, he'd soon intersect the old trail that led north from the bridge.

Matt cautiously moved through the brush in the direction he thought Aramas was taking. Yes! There on the ground was another trampled cigarette butt similar to the ones he'd found the day before, and broken brush indicating that someone had stepped sideways there to avoid an outcropping of jagged rock. To judge from the way the brush was trampled, Aramas now must be traveling hurriedly. He certainly wasn't taking much care to cover his tracks. Maybe he didn't know that anyone was pursuing him, or maybe he was leading his pursuer into an ambush. Matt would be wary.

It was beginning to get dark and Matt had to admit that he was getting tired. That being the case, he soon searched out a sheltered area under an outcropping of rock where he and Scruffy could make camp for the night.

He couldn't build a fire for fear of it being seen by Aramas, but Matt had brought prepared food for himself, and Scruffy happily ate his regular dry dog food. Then Matt unrolled his sleeping bag.

Once he had his sleeping bag and gear ready for the night, Matt gathered brush and piled it up to help conceal his campsite. His rifle was nearby and his pistol would be near his hand as he slept. Scruffy, too, would be keeping watch.

Matt checked his phone to see if he'd missed any calls. Two missed calls caught his eye. One was from Diane; the other from Kimberli. He'd return those calls later.

It was dark enough now that Matt could spot a campfire if Aramas had one. With that in mind, he climbed partway up the side of the mountain above the outcropping where he intended to sleep that night to see if he could see any campfires, but there weren't any. Aramas probably was too smart for that. Wait! There in the distance. It wasn't the glow of a fire, but there was a slight trail of smoke, actually more heated vapor than smoke.

Ah ha! Now Matt had an idea of where Aramas was located. Even without a range-finder, he could judge the distance fairly accurately. He made some notations on his GPS unit and then climbed back down to his campsite. Moments later, he was snug in his sleeping bag with Scruffy settled down beside him.

Diane would be home by now. Matt sent her a text message: "I'm okay, but I'm deep in the mountains searching for someone. Hope all is well. Catch you later."

A glance at his watch told Matt that Kimberli probably was home for the evening. After again checking his cell phone for voice-mail or text messages, finding and ignoring the usual assortment of people asking if he was okay, Matt pulled his jacket partially over his head to help muffle the sounds of his voice and punched in Kimberli's number.

As someone lifted the receiver, however, Matt distinctly heard a male voice call out, "I've got it, Kimmi." Then the same voice was saying, "Hello!" directly in Matt's ear. There was soft music playing in the background, too! There was no way Matt would respond to that voice.

"Hello! . . . Hello! Who's there?" It was the same male voice, this time louder and expressing annoyance, no doubt because Matt wasn't responding.

Click!

Matt immediately switched off the phone. Had he dialed the right number? He knew he had.

There was no doubt in Matt's mind as to who had answered Kimberli's phone. He'd talked briefly to Stanley Shirron, the new director of the rescue mission, a few days ago when he'd called Kimberli at work, so he recognized the man's voice. And the music playing in the background suggested that there was a party of some sort going on. Yeah, Kimberli, Matt whispered sarcastically to himself, you don't even like the 'good looking' blonde guy with the 'sleek sports car,' do you? You may not like him, but he's at your apartment. He hoped Kimberli and Stan were having a good time.

Shirron had called out, "I've got it, Kimmi." No doubt that was his pet name for Kimberli. Kimmi. Matt would have chuckled at Stan's calling her Kimmi if it hadn't indicated a certain closeness between Stan and Kimberli. She no doubt had a pet name for him, as well. Kimmi. Matt never had liked nicknames, had never used them for others, even though his full first name was Matthew and he'd always been called Matt.

One thing that Matt always admired in Allene was that she'd loved him and she'd been true to him. In fact, he'd never known her to even trifle with another guy, and he'd certainly never flirted with another girl even before he and Allene had become an "item," to use Matt's commanding officer's term for couples who were engaged to be married and committed to each other. Forget it. The 'good looking' Stanley Shirron could have Kimberli, er, Kimmi.

But what was he thinking, anyway. He and Kimberli weren't an "item." She had no reason to assume anything about his interest in her. In fact, he'd been reluctant to develop an interest in Kimberli, and it probably showed. Now, he was glad that he hadn't allowed himself to fall in love with her.

Hearing Stanley Shirron's voice and knowing that he was at Kimberli's apartment helped Matt firm up some decisions he'd been considering in the back of his mind for several days. First of all, he'd continue hunting down Richard Aramas. Now that he'd located the man, the rest would be easy. He'd hunted down men in the mountains of Afghanistan and other hell-holes, and he could hunt down one here. After all, the guy had shot and come close to killing him, so he owed the guy. Furthermore, Aramas apparently had threatened Kimberli as well as her dad any number of times, and Matt could remove that threat at the same time.

Once he had Aramas, however, Matt would turn off or simply throw away that unwanted cell phone. He didn't need the calls it brought and he didn't need company at his cabin either. People could let him alone with his few remaining memories of happy times. If they couldn't let him alone, he'd move away.

And he could move away, too. Just a few days ago he'd seen the notice of some land for sale that was even more remote than that land he owned. There had been a cabin on that land as well. Matt just might consider getting further away from civilization.

Could he leave Diane behind if he moved away. Of course, he could--or could he? Well, she no doubt had a boyfriend. She didn't need him.

Matt's first self-imposed assignment, however, was to locate Richard Aramas and turn him over to Bill Clanin. It didn't make much difference to Matt if Aramas was dead or alive. He'd take him alive if he could. If he couldn't, well, he wasn't going to worry about it. Once he'd delivered Aramas to the sheriff, he'd follow through on those other decisions.

For now, though, Matt needed sleep. In fact, he hadn't realized just how tired he was until he crawled into his sleeping bag. His thwarted call to Kimberli, no matter how unsettling it might have been, would not keep him awake. As part of his military training, he'd learned how to push aside anxiety and fear and fatigue.

To push aside any hindrances to sleep that night, Matt created a visual image of an ice cube on a warm saucer. As the ice began to melt, he let his fatigue and annoyance slip away, drip by drip by drip, with the spreading water. By the time the ice cube had fully melted, Matt was sound asleep.

Matt studied his map and his GPS unit the following morning. He was higher on the mountainside than Aramas appeared to be, so he would move parallel to the trail his adversary seemed to be taking.

All went well until mid-morning, when Matt suddenly heard rustling ahead in the brush. Something or someone was moving about up ahead. Scruffy, too, sensed danger and bristled at the sound. Both of them paused and quickly took cover behind the nearby trees, waiting and watching intently to see what was coming. Matt's pistol was in his hand.

There was continuing movement. They could see brush moving up ahead. Something, an animal, most likely, Matt determined, was slinking quietly through the brush. Moments later, Scruffy and Matt saw the big mountain lion glide down the mountain ahead of them, ears alert, apparently stalking something. Matt had seen any number of mountain lions last summer. They usually avoided humans if they could; Matt and Scruffy would give this one plenty of room.

Matt held Scruffy on his knee and talked quietly to him as they watched the mountain lion disappear into the underbrush. "You better stick close to me, little guy," he whispered to the dog, "because those big cats like to eat little dogs that get in their way." Scruffy simply wagged his tail. He felt safe with Matt.

As they waited for the long-tailed cat to pass by, Matt studied his map and then made some calculations on his GPS unit as to Aramas's likely location. If Matt's assumptions about his movements were correct, Aramas would be near the worked-out gold mines by nightfall. Matt would try to pick up the man's trail and then circle around above him.

It wasn't hard to pick up Aramas's trail. Matt soon found a cigarette butt similar to the ones he'd found the day before. An energy bar wrapper came next. Farther on, Matt found still another cigarette butt. Finding it confirmed his thinking about the direction Aramas was taking.

Matt followed Aramas's trail until he was certain in which direction the man was headed. Then he and Scruffy climbed higher on the mountainside and paralleled Aramas. Matt's guess was that Aramas would do exactly what the sheriff had predicted. He'd camp near those abandoned mines tonight and then walk east to the highway tomorrow. Someone would pick him up there. Matt would get him first.

* * * * *

There! There he was–the man in the photo the sheriff had shown him several weeks ago! Matt studied the figure below him through his binoculars until he was absolutely certain that it was Richard Aramas. He could easily have shot the man with his rifle, but Matt didn't want to do that. He preferred to capture him and turn him over to Bill Clanin.

Abandoned mines dotted the terrain, and Aramas was carrying a sleeping bag. As the sun was beginning to set, he appeared to be looking over the mine entrances with an eye to settling into one of them for the night. Matt planned to wait until Aramas was asleep and then take him captive. If he resisted, Matt would kill him.

As Scruffy and Matt watched, Aramas picked his way over several large boulders toward one of the abandoned mines. When he arrived at the entrance, he spent several moments looking into the mine, beaming his flashlight inside the opening. Apparently having decided that he would spend the night there, Aramas slipped off his backpack and started to carry it inside.

"Gr-r-r-r-rrr!" Scruffy growled softly. He'd sensed something that Matt hadn't heard or seen. Matt hunched forward, watching Aramas through his binoculars, intent on what the man was doing and equally intent on discovering what Scruffy had heard.

The answer wasn't long in coming. As Aramas stepped inside the abandoned mine, Matt heard the ferocious snarl of a mountain lion from deep inside that same opening. Aramas turned quickly toward the sound and tried to bring up the rifle in his hand, but he was too late.

"ROAR!"

"Eeeeeeiiiiiiiii!" Aramas leapt back, screaming in terror and agony as the big cat roared and attacked him with full fury, it's sharp claws and teeth ripping and tearing at the man's clothing and flesh.

CRACK!

The rifle in Aramas's hand went off, but the shot was wild, the noise serving only to annoy the big cat even more. Then the rifle flew out of the man's hand and skittered down the slope before coming to rest at the foot of a tree while Aramas flailed ineffectively at the angry mountain lion.

Matt brought up his own rifle, but did not shoot for fear of hitting Aramas. Moments later, however, the terrible fight was over and the mountain lion darted off down the mountainside, only to slink back to the abandoned mine opening moments later. It probably was a female, and it probably had a litter in that mine. Mountain lion litters could be born any month of the year. Getting too near those babies had been a fatal mistake for Aramas.

Richard Aramas sprawled, limbs askew, on the rocks beyond the mine, and did not move again. The mountain lion warily watched him for several minutes from the entrance to the abandoned mine, ready to attack again if the man should move, then went back into the mine and out of Matt's sight.

Sheriff Bill Clanin had wanted to pin a murder rap on Aramas. He wouldn't get that chance. Richard Aramas would now be answering to a higher court.

Matt and Scruffy cautiously approached the man so that Matt could confirm that he was dead. He was. Matt's search for Richard Aramas was over. It was time for him to call Bill Clanin and let him know. Matt checked the location on his GPS unit and then punched the sheriff's number into his cell phone.

"Hello."

"Hello, Bill. This is Matt Davis. I'm--"

"Matt!" Bill almost exploded into the phone. "We've all been worried about you. Where are you, Matt?"

Matt didn't respond to the sheriff's question or his annoyance. Instead, he briefly summarized the situation and gave the sheriff the GPS coordinates. "I'll stay with Aramas's body until you can get someone out here in the morning to pick it up," he concluded, "and then I'm going home." Matt hung up before Bill could get into anything else.

He'd let the rescue crew determine the best way to get in there to pick up Aramas's body. Maybe there was a nearby clearing where a helicopter could land. Maybe they'd have to hike in. They could find a way. Matt really didn't care how they got there. He'd done his job. They could do theirs.

The stars were not as clear that night as they had been the night before. A change in the weather was coming. Matt knew that another winter storm was predicted to come in within a few days. He hoped that he could get back to his cabin before it got here. If he didn't, well, would anyone really care?

Although he was very tired, Matt wasn't going to sleep that night. Instead, he was going to keep an eye on Aramas to make sure that no wild animal carried off his body. Scruffy crept closer and closer to Matt as the night progressed, seeking the warmth and protection that Matt could give. He, too, seemed ready to go home.

* * * * *

WHUMP! WHUMP! WHUMP!

A helicopter came overhead early the following morning, no doubt searching the area for a nearby landing site. It hovered directly over Aramas's body for a moment, so Matt knew they'd spotted it. Matt wondered if Phil was flying the chopper.

Matt was seated a ways up the mountain from the body. He could keep an eye on things, but the crew probably couldn't see him because of the trees and thick brush around him. They didn't need to see him.

The helicopter flew off. Matt thought it was leaving the area, but then he heard it coming back.

WHUMP! WHUMP! WHUMP!

The characteristic sound of the chopper's rotor echoed through the mountains.

whump! whump! whump!

The chopper's rotor was slowing.

The helicopter must be landing a short distance to the north.

Brian Olsen and the sheriff soon came into view. Bill Clanin was carrying a body bag. They studied the scene. A little later, Brian began to take photos of Aramas's remains and the surrounding area.

While Brian was taking photos, Bill stood up and looked around. "You around here, Matt?" he called.

"Yep," Matt answered.

"Come down here a minute."

Matt slowly climbed down the mountain, Scruffy at his heels.

When the sheriff saw Matt coming, he hurried to meet him. "Matt, we've all been worried about you. Kimberli's worried–"

Matt held up his hand. "Enough! Enough!" he interrupted. "You've got your man. I'm tired, and I'm going home."

Bill grimaced. "Would you please call Kimberli?"

"I called her at home two nights ago," Matt replied, trying his best to cover the annoyance and hurt in his voice but not succeeding very well, "and this guy who's the new director of the rescue mission out there, what's his name, Stanley . . . Stanley Shirron, answered. I recognized his voice from having talked with him a day or so before. He was at her apartment. There was music playing in the background. I hope they were having a good time. You can call Kimberli and tell her what's going on. Me? I'm going to throw this phone away." With those words, Matt turned on his heel and began to walk away.

"Wait! Stop a minute and listen to me, Matt," Bill called. He wasn't about to argue with Matt about what was going on with Kimberli, not until he had a chance to check things out for himself. Why it was that Matt couldn't give her a chance to explain things, he didn't know.

Matt turned. "What is it, Bill?"

"Let us take you into town in the chopper. I'll give you a ride out to your cabin."

"No." Matt was emphatic.

"Matt, there's a storm coming in," the sheriff argued. "I don't want you out here in the mountains this far from your cabin with a storm coming in. I want you to be safe at home before it hits."

Matt shook his head. "No, thanks, Bill. Take what's left of Aramas and get on out of here. It really doesn't make any difference if I get home safe or if I don't." With those words said, Matt turned and walked off back the way he'd come two days ago. Scruffy dutifully trotted along behind him.

* * * * *

Home for Matt was miles away over some very rough terrain, but he thought he could make it before the storm hit. He would follow the old trail that led to the stream, then follow the stream a short distance before angling off cross-country toward his cabin. He knew the route he'd take, but the trouble was, Matt was tired. The long hike and the sleepless night had taken more out of him than he realized. Moreover, his back and head were hurting. Well, he'd made his choice and there was no turning back. He'd give it his best shot, but whether he got back home or not didn't make all that much difference, anyway. Not any more. Allene was dead.

Half a mile down the old trail, Matt stopped to rest. There he got the last of Scruffy's food from his backpack and fed the dog. Matt found and ate some beef jerky and his last chocolate bar, took a drink from his canteen, and then gave Scruffy a drink, using an old jar lid for a water bowl. Minutes later, they were on their way again.

A short ways farther down the trail, Matt's eyes were drawn to an outcropping of rock just up the mountain a few hundred feet above the trail. It wasn't really an outcropping, more likely some rocks that recently had been exposed by erosion, but Matt had a good idea of what was in those particular rocks. He had taken three advanced courses in geology when he was in college, and it just might be that his time spent in those classes was about to pay off. Even though he was tired, Matt couldn't resist taking a closer look.

One of his advanced geology instructors was a man who'd worked for years with a gold mining company. He'd taught his students how to identify potential sites for gold or silver or copper mining. Matt, already interested in treasure hunting, had hung onto that instructor's every word and participated in several optional class field trips to working gold and silver mines. Now, as he looked at the exposed rocks, he smiled to himself as he whispered aloud, "Those old-time miners may have found some of it, but they didn't find all of the gold out here."

Matt didn't have a hammer with him. His Ka-Bar knife might be heavy enough, though. With a couple of hard blows, he managed to break off a small portion of the rock. He dug around in the dirt and unearthed another similar rock. After he washed the dirt away with water from his canteen, little flecks in the rock sparkled at him. With another hard blow, he broke off a piece of that rock as well. Two samples would be enough for now.

Those rocks went into his backpack, and he marked the location where they were found on his GPS unit map and also on the topographical map he carried. Unless he missed his guess, those rocks contained gold. Low- to medium-grade gold, perhaps, Matt couldn't be sure, but the gold probably worth mining nonetheless.

Ever since he'd taken those geology classes, Matt had dreamed about discovering a gold or silver mine. This might be the best opportunity he'd ever have. Not that Matt expected to make a lot of money from a gold mine. That simply wasn't realistic, given the slim profit margins on small mines. Still, he'd take those rocks to someone who could assay them. First, though, he and Scruffy had to get back to his cabin before the storm set in.

Grey clouds were moving in, all right, and Matt felt the wind begin to pick up. The temperature soon would be dropping. He and Scruffy had better keep moving.

* * * * *

By the time Matt reached his cabin it was dark–and very, very cold. Snow was falling and the wind was picking up. Both Matt and Scruffy were exhausted, but the little dog again scouted around the cabin for unwanted visitors while Matt unlocked the door.

Inside the cabin, Matt got a good fire going in his wood stove. Once the cabin warmed a little, he slipped off his heavy jacket and boots, then lay down on the rug in front of his stove. Scruffy snuggled up beside him. Both Matt and Scruffy immediately fell asleep.

Sometime during the night, the wind came up even stronger. Scruffy growled a little when he heard the wind howling around the cabin, but Matt cuddled the little dog close to him and they both went right back to sleep.

* * * * *

Both Matt and Scruffy awoke around noon the following day. The snow was still falling and the wind had blown drifts around the cabin, but it was nowhere near the major snow storm they'd had a few weeks ago.

Scruffy's food bowl was empty and Matt refilled it along with the little dog's water bowl. Then Matt prepared himself a hearty meal of pancakes, bacon, and eggs. That done, he sat in his recliner and watched it snow from his window.

Matt was thankful for the snow. It would help isolate him from the world he wanted less and less to do with. Without a moments hesitation, he cleared the accumulated voice-mail messages off his phone without listening to them and left the phone turned off. He hadn't wanted a telephone. He hadn't wanted to talk with anyone. Didn't want to now.

Kimmi. Matt hoped Kimberli liked that endearing name.

It was at times like this when Matt's heart hurt like crazy, wishing that Allene were with him. Since she couldn't be, all he wanted was to be left alone. Sometimes, he thought his heart would never stop hurting.

Of all the people he'd met here, there was one person Matt surely would miss. That was Darlene Lee. She'd been awfully good to him, good and kind and understanding. Still, he'd repaid her kindness, hadn't he? He'd given her the jewelry he'd created for Allene and some of the gold he'd panned, and he'd also showed her and Dave his favorite technique for working gold into fine jewelry. As for the rest of the people around here, if they didn't leave him alone, he could simply move somewhere else, maybe even deeper into the mountains–and he would.

Diane would miss him, maybe, but she'd easily make new friends, especially now that she was attending Dave Lee's church. No, Matt really didn't figure in her life, and he knew that.

Matt listened to the weather forecast on his radio. This storm would be over by tonight, and the temperatures would begin to climb, starting tomorrow. Soon it would be time for Matt to search the old cabin site for hidden treasure and build his sluice. If he decided to stay here, he'd also refurbish another room or two of the cabin during the summer months. Fence the back yard for Scruffy. Maybe enlarge the garage a little. Maybe build a little lab in the garage where he could work with the gold he'd recover with his sluice. Keeping busy helped him forget Allene, even if only for the moment. Then again, maybe it would be best if he just moved on. He could find some new challenges to help him forget.

As soon as it warmed up a little, Matt would go have a talk with his banker, too. Even though he had medical insurance, that hospital stay had taken a serious bite out of his ready cash. Not that the payments for his medical care would cause him serious financial harm, but it might be appropriate for his banker to sell some of his investments to rebuild his account reserves.

As Matt thought about his future, the exhaustion of the past few days caught up with him and he went to sleep in his recliner. When he awoke it was beginning to get dark outside. How he wished Allene was with him.

* * * * *

Stanley Shirron worked well into the evening hours most nights. Almost everyone else was gone by then, and he could get things done without interruption.

That evening he watched the staff leave. Watched them from the window in his corner office. There was nothing unusual about that, except that something troubled Stan.

That car parked just down and across the street had been there last night--and maybe the night before. And the man seated in it had watched people leaving the rescue mission. Hmmm? What was his interest in them? Was this guy stalking someone? Kimberli, maybe?

The mission was located in a rough part of town. Stan knew that. That guy parked across the street was up to no good. Stan would bet on that. He was parked where the security camera on the front of the building wouldn't record his being there.

Stan quietly picked up his smart phone, set it to take a picture, centered the driver on the screen--and got his picture. What good it would be to anyone, Stan didn't know--but he had it.

Kimberli was the last person to leave the building that evening. Stan watched her walk toward her car. What a beauty! They'd have to get together again, soon. Hmm? The man across the street seemed to be paying particular attention to her. Was that a phone in his hands?

Yes! That man was taking a picture of Kimberli.
CHAPTER 14

Now that Richard Aramas was dead, Kimberli could breathe much easier. She'd been so worried that he would come after her with a vengeance when he got out of prison, or pay some thugs to come after her as she and her dad suspected he had done once before. It was terrible to wish that somebody was dead, but she had wished that Richard Aramas was dead many times, and now he was!

That night as she left work at the rescue mission and walked to her car, Kimberli looked around her for the millionth time at the aging rental houses and the row after row of shabby apartments that comprised the neighborhood where the mission was located. Children were playing unsupervised in abandoned cars sitting on concrete blocks. Teens were beginning to gather on the street corners. A middle-aged man dressed in rags was passed out in the doorway of an abandoned building across the street, a half-empty bottle of cheap liquor standing beside him in what once was a brown paper bag. Kimberli knew that the drug dealers would soon be gathering on every corner. Crime was everywhere. Even now, she could hear sirens wailing in the distance.

The rescue mission where Kimberli worked was, to her and her coworkers, a tiny ray of light and hope in the vastness of this violent, crime-ravaged neighborhood. She and the other mission workers knew in their hearts that God never intended for anyone to live in the hopelessness that gripped most of the residents in this part of the city. Because of the mission, many people over the years had experienced God's grace and moved away from lives of crime and alcoholism and drug addiction to become productive citizens. She was proud to have been a part of the mission, to have had a part in changing people's lives for the better.

Still, Kimberli's efforts at the mission had almost exhausted her. Not only had she had to do her best to help those who came to the mission seeking help, but she'd had to worry constantly about what Richard Aramas and the other criminals who'd threatened harm might do to her. Now that she was free of a major part of that worry, she could relax, at least a little. Even so, she couldn't let down her guard, not while working in a neighborhood inhabited with thugs.

Although Kimberli had worked ten hours that day and was nearly exhausted as she left the rescue mission that evening, she still was elated about Matt having become a Christian. She'd shared the good news with her coworkers and they'd all got together and said a prayer of thanksgiving. God indeed was good. Very good! Because of her love for Matt, it had been hard for her to keep her mind on her clients that afternoon, and Kimberli looked forward to talking with Matt that very evening. His phone had been turned off the past few days, but her dad said he was home now. How she enjoyed talking with him! Did she even dare to dream about leaving this place to follow her heart and join Matt in the rugged mountains she'd loved as a child? How she longed to be with him that very moment.

Even though Matt had sought refuge in those mountains, Kimberli knew that God had placed him where he could rescue her from that airplane crash that would have claimed her life. He'd rescued her from the darkest hour of her life; Kimberli hoped that she could be the one to rescue him from the darkness of his past.

Kimberli could imagine doing so many wonderful things with Matt. She loved to sing and he could accompany her on his guitar. Maybe they could sing together. She'd encourage that. She could even imagine being snowed in with Matt in his cabin, their cabin, just the two of them together in their own little world of love.

But wait! She also could imagine a wonderful life with Stanley Shirron. He was smooth, a wonderful manager, and a pleasure to be with. With him, she'd have an active social life, both within and without of the church. Although she'd never felt sexy or sophisticated, with Stan she felt both. Did she ever enjoy the way he looked at her. And he was good looking--one of the most handsome men she'd ever met. Perhaps God had placed him there as the manager of the agency where she worked so that they could be together.

* * * * *

Sheriff Bill Clanin was seated in his office late that afternoon when his cell phone rang.

"Bill Clanin here."

"Bill, this is Tim Audrey. Do you remember me?"

"Sure do, Tim. What's up?"

Tim got right to the reason for his call. "Earlier today, I had a visit with one of the former inmates here. I thought you should know what he had to tell me."

"Okay."

"Don't know whether you'll make anything of it or not. You'll have to decide what you want to do with it. Okay?"

"Okay. Tell me what you've got."

"My visitor is one of the guys I'm trying to help get back into society. Nice guy, but he made some very bad choices a few years back. Did time, and now says he's willing to work hard at not spending any more time in prison.

"He tells me he was having a drink in a bar last night when this old guy came in. Tall, thin guy with gray hair. Said the old guy was dressed neatly, but pretty much out of it, like he'd already had too much to drink somewhere else, like maybe some bartender had kicked him out of another bar.

"The guy sat down beside him and downed his first beer in one long gulp. Said he was real sad and upset because his good friend had been killed by a mountain lion a few days ago. That's when I got to thinking that you might know who he was and what he was up to in Silver City, because Richard Aramas is the only person I know of who's been killed by a mountain lion recently."

"Right. So he probably was a friend of Richard Aramas."

"Anyway, this guy got to rambling about how he was going to get the guy or the guys responsible for his friend getting killed. My visitor asked him about who these guys were that he was referring to. Well, by now the old guy was so far out of it that he was slurring his words, but he went to rambling on about getting some sheriff and then taking off for Mexico. Talked about putting a bomb on the sheriff's car and blowing him away. I figured you might be the sheriff he was talking about, and that you'd ought to know about the threats.

"Now, Bill," Tim Audrey continued, "my client didn't know for sure who this guy was, but when the bartender called a cab to pick him up because he was too drunk to drive, the bartender asked for his name. He said his name was Wright. He spelled it right out, too: 'W-R-I-G-H-T'. He was drunk, but he made a point of saying it wasn't spelled 'R-I-G-H-T.' "

"I've got a good guess as to who it was," Bill replied. "Richard Aramas had a friend named Leonard Wright. It was Wright who picked up Aramas when he got out of prison a few days ago. Took him to his apartment. And Wright probably drove the SUV when Aramas took some shots at me a few days ago. I don't know that for sure, but that's my best guess.

"So, Tim," the sheriff continued, "I thank you for the tip. I'll keep an eye out for Leonard Wright and any bomb he might like to plant on my truck. Keep me informed if you hear anything else."

With assurances that he would indeed keep the sheriff informed of any additional tips, Tim Audrey visited with Bill Clanin for a few minutes and then said "Goodbye."

Sheriff Bill Clanin sat thinking for some time after terminating his call from Tim. "Well, now," he mused, "We know Leonard Wright was in Silver City. Maybe he still is. What mischief do you suppose he's scheming up now? What's he going to do over there?"

Planting a bomb on the sheriff's truck would be something Leonard Wright might try to do. In fact, the sheriff recalled Aramas having been suspected of planting a bomb on a man's car some years ago. Maybe Wright had helped him build it. At any rate, he'd be alert to that possibility. What concerned the sheriff even more, however, was what Wright might be planning against Kimberli or anyone else in Silver City.

* * * * *

Kimberli had worked late that evening, and was the last one to leave the mission. Even Stan's office was dark. He'd recommended that she shouldn't work late and leave the building by herself because of the crime in the area, but she'd had work that she felt she must do. And she was thinking of Matt as she walked across the parking lot toward her car, thinking of Matt and not paying attention to what was happening around her.

Kimberli didn't see the teenager wearing gang colors throw the heavy glass beer bottle.

SMASH!

With a solid SMACK! it hit her on the back of the head and shattered into a thousand shards around her, deeply slashing her scalp. She lurched forward under the impact, lurched forward and crumpled to the pavement without a sound.

SMACK!

A second beer bottle hit her solidly in the small of her back as she sprawled on the pavement. It, too, splintered into countless shards as the teenager who threw it smirked and ran away. He'd already spent the money he'd been paid to throw those bottles. It had been the easiest money he'd ever made.

Later that night somebody torched the rescue mission building.
CHAPTER 15

"Gr-r-r-rrr!"

Scruffy's low growl roused Matt from a sound sleep.

beep! beep! beep!

In addition to Scruffy's growl, Matt also heard the beep! beep! beep! of his driveway alarm, alerting him that someone was coming up his lane.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

Moments later, someone was pounding hard on the cabin door.

"Gr-r-r-rrr!" . . . "Gr-r-r-rrr!"

Matt glanced at his watch as he sat up in bed, instinctively reaching for his gun as he did so. Who could be knocking on his door at three o'clock in the morning?

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

The pounding on the door was even louder, more insistent. "Matt!" Someone called. "Matt!" The voice sounded familiar all right, but as Matt rubbed the sleep from his eyes, he couldn't be absolutely sure who was there.

"Matt! MATT! It's Bill Clanin here. I need to see you right away."

"Coming!" Matt called. He had been right about the familiar voice. What could Bill Clanin possibly want with him at that hour of the night?

The sheriff looked absolutely ashen, his face drawn. "Kimberli's been hurt," he blurted out, as Matt opened the door. "Maybe real bad."

Once Bill was inside, Matt closed the door and directed him to the recliner. "Sit down, Bill. Tell me what's going on."

"Kimberli's been hurt," Bill repeated, easing himself into Matt's recliner as he spoke. "She's in the hospital in Silver City. I'm going out there to see her, on my way right now, and I'd like for you to come along. I've got some friends who'll keep Scruffy for you. Already made arrangements with them. We'll leave him off on the way."

Matt hesitated. "I don't know, Bill."

"What do you mean, you don't know?"

Matt looked hard at the sheriff. "I told you that Kimberli has a boyfriend out there. It's the new director of the rescue mission where she works, a guy named Stanley Shirron. He likes to be called 'Stan.' Like I told you, when I called her apartment the other night, this guy answered her phone. I heard him call her 'Kimmi.' Sweet name, eh? She's not going to want me around. He won't either."

Bill shook his head, not quite sure why Matt was taking that attitude. "Aren't you going to give Kimberli a chance to explain?" he asked.

"Explain what? She doesn't have to explain anything to me."

"You've jumped the gun with her before, Matt," Bill countered. "First, you figured the pilot of that plane that crashed was her husband. I can see where you might have thought that, them traveling together and all. But then, you assumed that just because some guy was picking her up to take her to a rescue mission staff dinner meant that he was her new boyfriend. She's already told you he isn't. Give her a chance to explain."

"There's nothing for her to explain," Matt countered. "She can have all the boyfriends she wants. All I ever wanted was to be left alone."

Bill couldn't believe what he was hearing. How could a smart guy like Matt be so totally blind to Kimberli's love for him. "Nonsense!" He exclaimed. "Kimberli absolutely adores you, Matt. I can tell that by the way she talks about you. And believe me, she does talk about you whenever I call her, night or day."

Matt sighed, knowing what he had to do whether he liked it or not. "I don't believe it for a minute, but if you want me to go along, all right, I will." What would it take to convince Bill Clanin that his daughter had a boyfriend--a boyfriend named Stanley Shirron? Well, if he were her boyfriend, they'd find him at the hospital with Kimberli, and he likely wouldn't like Matt's being there. Not one bit!

"I do want you to go along," Bill insisted. "Pack up what you'll need for a few days. We'll leave just as soon as you're ready."

Matt scrambled to wash the sleep out of his eyes and get ready. He didn't know how long they'd be gone so he packed a small duffle bag with some essentials. A little later, in the early morning darkness, Matt and Scruffy climbed into Bill's bronze Buick. After dropping off the little dog with a friend of Bill's, they were on their way.

"Tell me what you know about what happened to Kimberli," Matt asked, the moment they were underway.

"As near as I can piece things together," Bill replied, "Kimberli had just left the rescue mission where she works and was walking across the parking lot to her car when somebody threw a couple of glass beer bottles at her. Both of 'em were full. Heavy. The first one hit her in the back of the head. That one knocked her down and out. The bottle shattered and she got a nasty cut on her scalp, and she got drenched with the beer. Then the second bottle hit her low in the back. Slashed her back and gave her a bad bruise. Probably some internal bruising, too. Anyway, this all happened late in the evening, after everybody else at the mission had gone home, but somebody found her and called an ambulance. She's in the hospital."

"Have you talked to anyone at the hospital about her?"

"Yep." Bill glanced at his watch. "About an hour or so ago."

"Is she going to be all right?"

"I don't think anybody knows how badly she's hurt just yet. There isn't too much external bleeding except for the one deep cut on her head, but there may be internal bleeding and some swelling inside her skull. The blow to her head knocked her out and she's since regained consciousness, but she's a little confused. In what way, I'm not sure. And the blow to her back left a bad bruise and maybe hurt her kidneys or something inside her. That's all they could tell me."

"I've never been to Silver City," Matt said. "How long does it take for us to get there, Bill?"

"About four hours if I push it, and I'm gonna push it."

Matt shook his head in disbelief. He really had liked Kimberli and she'd seemed so happy when he'd talked with her earlier in the week. And now this! Still, he clearly remembered the voice of the new rescue mission director on her telephone when he'd called. Kimmi. Well, she was free to choose her own boyfriends. He'd go along with Bill, but he wouldn't push the friendship bit.

There wasn't much Matt could do for Kimberli except pray. Her new boyfriend would most likely be with her even now. He probably was praying for her, too.

"Did you alert Dave and Darlene?" Matt asked.

"Yeah. Pastor Dave said he'd get everybody in the church praying for her. From the sound of things, I think she's gonna need all the prayer she can get."

"She was really looking forward to coming home for a long Easter weekend," Matt reflected, "but I guess you know that. Easter's only a few days away."

"Yeah, I know. One of the reasons she was looking forward to coming home was because you were taking her out to eat. She said she wanted to be with you. Couldn't wait to see you." Bill paused, weighing his words, then continued. "Kimberli just plain loves you, Matt. I can tell by the way she talks about you. She'll want you with her. That's why I wanted you to go with me tonight. Oh, and this is changing the subject, but did I tell you, somebody torched the rescue mission where she works, or maybe worked is the better term?"

Matt ignored the sheriff's comments about Kimberli liking him. Loving him. Frankly, he thought that was old news. The new news was that she had a new boyfriend, a 'good looking' blonde guy with a 'sleek sports car' who called her Kimmi. Instead of responding to Bill's comments about her liking him, Matt inquired about the rescue mission. "Somebody burned the rescue mission where Kimberli worked, you say? When did that happen?"

"Yeah, somebody set it afire, late last night," Bill explained. "Burned it to the ground. They couldn't salvage a thing from it. It wasn't all that much of a building but it was what they had, and now it's gone. To tell you the truth, I wouldn't mind a bit if Kimberli elected to come home for good. That mission was in a terrible part of town. The cops and firemen don't even like to go into that area at night, and none of 'em will go alone. Can't say that I blame 'em. Whenever the firemen go in, they make sure the cops are with 'em, even during the day."

"What all did they do at that rescue mission?" Matt asked.

"Oh, they had quite an operation going," Bill replied. "In addition to Kimberli's and one other worker's social work and counseling, they ran a small homeless shelter and a community kitchen. Those parts of the mission were located several blocks away from the building where Kimberli worked, and I don't think they were burned. Those operations are where she worked on the weekends.

"They had more homeless people than they could handle," Bill continued, "and they just about worked Kimberli to death. When she wasn't counseling, they had her working in the kitchen or trying to find beds for everybody who showed up at the door. I think she worked ten or twelve hours most days, and that includes the weekends."

"Let's try to bring Kimberli home as soon as possible, Bill," Matt suggested, "even if she has to make the trip by ambulance. If she has to be in a hospital, she can be in the hospital near home where some of us can more easily be with her."

"Yeah, let's try to do that," Bill agreed. "Just between the two of us, I hope Kimberli comes home and stays home. In fact, Dave's talked with her several times recently about starting a Christian counseling service and rescue mission through our church. She's interested, too. This would be an ideal time for her to do just that, and just between you and me, they'd be able to pay her a decent wage, a lot better than she's making now."

"Would she have an office in the church, then?" Matt asked.

"They might start with her working from an office in the church," Bill replied, "but they're thinking long-term about finding a building near the church where she could set up something like the rescue mission where she's been working. Actually, the church could use more room for some of its programs, too."

"Is there a building near the church that might serve them for offices?" Matt asked.

Bill smiled. "Yeah. Dave has had his eye on a small office building across the street from the church ever since he heard that the guy who owns it is retiring. Actually, I think Darlene has pledged funds from her jewelry sales to help purchase the building. It's a well-maintained building, and there's good parking around it, too."

But starting something like that here will take her away from Stanley Shirron, the new director of the rescue mission, Matt thought, although he wouldn't bring that up with Bill. After all, if the 'good looking' man with the 'sleek sports car' was on Kimmi's mind, they could find him a job near her. Maybe he could work into the church's outreach program. Or they could find Kimberli another job near him. Whatever. They could work that one out.

"I agree with you about Kimberli's coming home and working with Dave," Matt replied, "and Bill, this is changing the subject again, but Darlene said you were planning a memorial service for Rosie. Let me know when it is because I want to attend." Regardless of how his relationship with Kimberli developed, he owed that much to Bill.

"I sure will Matt. Getting Rosie a Christian burial service will really take a weight off of me. Of course, Kimberli wanted to be home for that, too, and now I don't know when she'll be out of the hospital. Maybe we can put it off until she's able to attend." Matt thought, but didn't say, and she can bring Stanley Shirron to the service with her.

* * * * *

"I've got another question for you, Bill," Matt said. "Totally different subject."

"Yeah? What's that?"

Richard Aramas may be dead, but he didn't act alone. If we assume he's the one who shot at you and Kimberli, somebody helped him. He was in the back seat with a rifle. Somebody got him a rifle. Gave it to him after he got out of prison. And then somebody drove the car. Somebody likely shadowed you ahead of time so that he knew you went to church on Sunday evenings, where you parked, things like that. Right?"

"Yeah."

"Somebody drove him out to the mountains, drove him to where he could hike back in to where he'd left Rosie's body. Had he gotten out of there, made it to the highway, somebody would have picked him up. Right?"

"Yeah."

"It might be that somebody arranged for this guy to harm Kimberli. Maybe paid him to do it. If so, he probably shadowed her leaving the rescue mission in the afternoon or evening, so he'd know where she would be and when. Right?"

"Yeah."

"Who, Bill?" Matt asked, "Who helped Richard Aramas?"
CHAPTER 16

Kimberli was sleeping in her hospital bed when Matt and her dad arrived at the door to her room. Stanley Shirron was seated in a chair at her bedside, holding her hand in his. The nurse who'd also been seated beside her bed while monitoring her vital signs met them at the door with a finger to her lips in the universal symbol for quiet.

"How is she?" Bill asked, his voice a harsh whisper.

"We think she's doing okay, but she took a nasty blow to her head and we've got to be sure there isn't serious internal swelling or bleeding. She also bruised her right arm badly and hit her forehead when she fell. And then that bruise on her back is just awful. That blow bruised her inside as well as outside. She'll be awfully sore for a while." The nurse glanced at her watch. "Come on in. Just be real quiet. She'll be walking up in a few minutes and you can talk to her briefly then."

Bill nodded. "Okay."

"Only briefly, you hear?" The nurse repeated. "Then I'll have to ask you all to leave while I tend to her."

Both men nodded their understanding. "Okay."

Once they were in the room, Matt whispered to the nurse, "Do you mind if we pray for her. I'd like to, and I'll be real quiet."

"That'll be fine."

"Would you join us? Please?" Matt invited. "You, too, Stan?"

"Yes. Yes, of course I will."

"Let's join hands."

The nurse reached out and took Kimberli's hand in her left hand and Matt's hand in her right. Matt and Bill and Stan joined hands and Bill gently placed his free hand on Kimberli's shoulder.

"Dear God," Matt whispered. "One of Your people is hurting real bad today. Please give the doctors and nurses wisdom as they treat Kimberli. Please help Kimberli to heal from her hurts. In Jesus's name we pray these things. Amen."

The nurse smiled at Matt. "Thank you. I'm a Christian, too, and if I was in Kimberli's place, I'd sure want you praying for me. Nurses and doctors appreciate prayer, too."

"Oh, I will pray for you, too," Matt told her. "You can count on that."

Kimberli stirred. Her eyes fluttered open. The nurse nodded at the three men. "You can talk to her now for a few minutes. Just take it easy easy."

Bill stepped close to his daughter and took her small hand in his big, rough one. "Kimberli? Kimberli, honey?" He whispered. "Can you hear me?"

"Dad." Her voice was very weak.

"Yeah, it's me, honey. And I've got somebody with me. Take a look."

Kimberli's eyes fluttered as she tried to focus. "Matt!" She breathed. "Oh, Matt!"

"Hi, Kimberli." Matt took her hand in his and held it tight. Even though her head was swathed in bandages and her face was badly bruised, to Matt she was simply beautiful.

"Oh, Matt! You . . . You cared . . . enough . . . about me . . . to . . . to come with my . . . with my dad."

"I sure did, and we're going to stay right here with you. We've, that's me and your dad and Stan and your nurse, already prayed for you. Lot's of other people back home are praying for you, too. I wanted you to know that."

Tears welled up in Kimberli's eyes. "Thank you for your prayers." She hesitated a moment. "Oh, Matt," she continued, "I . . . I'm . . . I'm afraid I can't . . . keep . . . keep . . . our . . . our . . . ." Her voice choked off as tears welled up in her eyes.

Our date? Matt silently finished her sentence. Why that should be on Kimberli's mind now that she had a new boyfriend and he was in the room with her, Matt didn't know.

Kimberli sensed what Matt was thinking. Tears ran down her cheeks. The nurse wiped them away with a tissue.

This wasn't the time to talk about her new boyfriend. "Hey, we'll make it up," Matt responded, "and a whole lot more." Let Stan think what he wanted.

Kimberli wanted to say 'I love you, Matt,' but she was having trouble speaking. Besides, she had Stan right there beside her and . . . . What might he think, anyway? Somehow her thoughts were all jumbled together right then.

Stan was right there, all right, his hand on Kimberli's shoulder. "Take it easy, Kimmi," he told her. "We'll all be back soon."

"Better that everyone leave for a while now," the nurse whispered.

"Okay. We've got to go for a little while, but we'll see you later, Kimberli," both Matt and Bill promised. Matt wasn't sure what she could sense just then, but he squeezed her hand in reassurance, and she did her best to squeeze his hand in return.

"Come back in about two hours," the nurse said.

Matt looked around for Stan, but he wasn't anywhere to be seen. Matt guessed he'd taken off, but that he'd be back. And he should be back to see Kimberli, Matt reasoned. After all, he was her boyfriend.

* * * * *

"I've been thinking about your question, Matt," Bill Clanin told him, as they sat in the hospital lobby.

"My question about who assisted Richard Aramas?"

"Yes."

"So, any ideas?" Matt asked.

"Maybe."

"Who?"

"Aramas had a friend, a partner in crime a long time ago," the sheriff replied. "The guy was never caught for anything major, although he did spend a little prison time a number of years ago. His name was, well is, Leonard Wright. He used to go visit Aramas while he was in prison."

"You think he might have helped Aramas?"

"Maybe," the sheriff replied, after a moments thought. "He's the one who picked up Aramas when he was released from prison. Wright probably took Aramas to his apartment."

"Have you got a picture of this Leonard Wright?" Matt asked.

"No, but I can get one. It'll be an old one, probably from the time he was in prison."

"See if they can send it directly to your smart phone."

"Okay. I'll see about getting the picture," the sheriff responded. "What do you have in mind?"

"Let's go talk to Stan Shirron," Matt suggested. "We'll show him the guy's picture. See if he might have spotted Wright hanging around the rescue mission."

"Okay, we can talk with Shirron," Bill said, "but you've got to remember that this may have been a random act. The person who threw those bottles may not have had any idea of who he was throwing them at."

"I know," Matt replied, "but let's get Wright's picture and have a visit with Shirron just the same. Check out the possibilities."

"Okay."

One phone call and a few minutes later, Sheriff Bill Clanin had Leonard Wright's picture on his smart phone. Now for a visit with Stan Shirron.

* * * * *

Stanley Shirron had left the hospital before the sheriff had a chance to talk to him. It took only a little time to locate him where he'd managed to set up a temporary office in a building two blocks away from where the old one was. He agreed to meet with Bill and Matt there. Matt wasn't at all certain that he wanted to meet with Shirron, but Bill insisted that he accompany him there.

Bill Clanin got right to the point of their visit after a brief exchange of greetings and Shirron's expressions of concern for Kimberli. "I want you to take a look at this picture," Bill told him, handing him his phone. "See if you've ever this guy around. Maybe looking things over? Maybe watching people?"

Shirron studied the picture for several minutes, then retrieved his own phone. "Here's a photo I took of a guy in a car who was parked across and down the street from the rescue mission several nights in a row," he told Bill, handing him his phone. "Given the fact that you've got an old photo, what do you think?"

Bill Clanin studied the photo on Shirron's phone and compared it with the one he'd obtained of Leonard Wright. There were similarities, but . . . .

Matt studied the photos over Bill's shoulder. "I'd say they're one and the same," he said, "and you can identify the car the man's driving. See if it's registered to Wright."

"Let me send the photo that's on my phone to your phone," Shirron said. "Maybe you can have them both enlarged and enhanced for comparison. A crime lab should be able to do that."

Both Bill and Matt thanked Stanley Shirron for his help.

"I'll keep an eye out for that car," Shirron told Bill as he and Matt were leaving, "and I'll call the cops if you think the guy might have had something to do with hurting Kimberli." Bill Clanin assured him that he'd let him know what he might find out about the car's owner.

* * * * *

On the way back to the hospital where Kimberli was resting, Bill forwarded both photos to a friend of his who worked in the State Police crime lab. He'd do exactly what Shirron had suggested, get them enlarged and enhanced for comparison purposes. He could "age" the earlier photo and compare it with the recent one, and he'd also get the make and model of the car the man was driving.

"Frankly, I don't think it will help us much to prove the same man is in both of these photos," Bill commented. "It's certainly not a crime to sit in a car parked opposite a rescue mission."

* * * * *

Five days later, Kimberli was able to go home with her dad and Matt. They stopped by her apartment and packed her few belongings. Matt drove her car, a small, two-door Volkswagen Beetle. Kimberli actually giggled when she saw Matt struggling to get his lanky frame into her tiny red car. Well, it was cute and it had given her good gas mileage, and it had been easy to park in the limited parking space at the mission, but it just wasn't built for a big guy like Matt.

Kimberli was, of course, very sad when she learned that the rescue mission where she worked for several years had been burned to the ground, yet somehow she was able to accept the fact that her work for God there was finished, at least for the time being. Pastor Dave and her dad had wanted her to come home for several years, and this might be God's way of assuring that she did just that.

Not only had she missed her anticipated date with Matt, but she'd missed Easter services as well. She so much wanted to be able to go to her mother's memorial service, too. Maybe they could put it off for a few more days until she was able to get around.

Her sense of humor was slowly returning. When Matt teased her about going to a lot of effort to stand him up for their first real date, she responded by letting him know that the reason she was alive was that she had such a thick skull. "Are you sure you want to date a girl who has scars and bruises all over her head and her back, too?" she teased.

"Yep!" Matt replied

Stanley Shirron saw them off. He promised to visit Kimberli on the first opportunity, and wished her well. He'd be away for the weekend, but he'd come see her when he returned. Although neither Kimberli nor Stan thought anyone noticed when they hugged and kissed, both Matt and Kimberli's dad did so. Now, Matt thought to himself, he shouldn't have to tell Bill that Stan was Kimberli's boyfriend.

Kimberli was going to be okay. She'd have a few scars, of course, but that was life. In addition to the one on her forehead as a result of injuries she'd received in the plane crash, Kimberli now had stitches along the back of her head where the broken bottle had slashed her scalp. That cut would heal, and if it left a scar, her hair would cover it. She was counting on that. The bruises would heal, too.

Matt had physical scars, too. Of course, they were on his legs and backside where they weren't as visible as Kimberli's would be. Matt's scars were souvenirs of two road-side bombs, both courtesy of terrorists in Afghanistan. Maybe there were similarities in the way they'd each acquired their scars.

* * * * *

Matt hadn't much wanted to continue any involvement with Kimberli, but he found himself visiting her almost every day while she was healing. He took her flowers and little gifts, but mostly he sat, held her hand, and talked to her. One day, he introduced her to Scruffy and the two became instant friends. He'd managed to teach Scruffy a few tricks and the two of them amused Kimberli for a while that afternoon.

He also found time to hike in the mountains beyond his cabin, hike and search for treasure that might be buried around the ancient cabin site. On the clear nights, he sat outside and studied the stars and planets. Scruffy accompanied him everywhere, of course, happy as a dog could be to be with Matt. Soon it would be warm enough that he could pan for gold, and he wondered if Diane might like to go with him.

It had been some time since Matt had talked with Diane. When he called her, however, she seemed excited to learn what he'd been doing. People at the church had told her about Kimberli's hospitalization, and how she would be working to set up a counseling service through the church.

When Matt told Diane about his plans to pan for gold in one of the mountain streams, she immediately asked if he would take her with him. "I'll pack a lunch for both of us," she told him.

Matt would look forward to that time with Diane.

Diane told Matt about how her work at Tyler's Diner was working out for her. Then, after they'd talked for a time, she asked Matt if he ever went out into the mountains in the evening to watch the stars come out.

"Yes," Matt told her, "that's one of the things I like about being out here away from the city lights. The stars and the moon and the planets are much brighter."

"I'd like to come out and watch them with you," Diane responded. "Could we do that?"

"Yes."

"Tomorrow evening?" Diane asked.

"Sure, if that works for you."

"You're sure I won't be interrupting anything?"

"No, you won't be interrupting anything. Do you want me to come in and pick you up at your apartment?"

"Oh, Matt!" Diane exclaimed. "That would be wonderful. I'm already looking forward to being with you."

Matt had to agree. He was looking forward to spending the evening with Diane. They'd hike out to a place where he'd often went to view the stars. There would be no lights to interfere with their viewing the heavenly objects.

* * * * *

Kimberli would be busy once she started working with Pastor Dave on establishing a Christian counseling service through the church. To Matt's thinking, she had all the company she wanted. Stanley Shirron did seem to visit her almost every weekend, and sometimes he managed to take time off from work to spend an afternoon and evening with her.

Stan was busy arranging for another building for the social service agency in Silver City, but he would surely miss Kimberli if he stayed there. In fact, the two of them spent time talking with Pastor Dave about the local counseling service, and Stan seemed to relish the thought of becoming a part of that work in the near future. Matt didn't have to try to convince Bill Clanin that his daughter did indeed have a boyfriend. That was evident. Whether Bill approved of Stan or not, Matt couldn't say.

* * * * *

In the meantime, though, Matt had another project in the works. The rocks he had brought back from the mountains had been assayed. Matt had been absolutely right about the content of those rocks. The chief geologist with a gold mining company had checked over the site, and they'd filed a mining claim in Matt's name with the Bureau of Land Management. He'd staked out the 20 acre claim surrounding the spot where he'd found the rocks. They'd be working to assess the feasibility of mining there, and Matt planned to work with them in developing the mine if it proved economically advisable. Even if it didn't prove out, Matt could enjoy the time he spent working on that project.

As Matt dreamed about owning a producing gold mine, he considered how he might use the unexpected income. His own needs were well taken care of, and his thoughts were drawn to what Darlene had said about her own hobby. That settled it in Matt's mind. If the mine actually paid off, he'd talk to Dave and Darlene about sharing his profits with the church, much like Darlene did the profits from her jewelry sales. Allene would have approved.

Kimberli no doubt would have a large hospital bill facing her, and that worried Matt. The rescue mission where she worked might carry some health insurance for her, but he guessed it wouldn't be much. When he went to talk to his banker, Matt would see to it that Kimberli's medical bills were taken care of, anonymously, of course. She didn't need to know he'd done that. He'd pay those bills even if she preferred Stanley Shirron to him. Matt could accept that probability. He doubted that Shirron would pay her bills.

* * * * *

Despite Bill's constant urging, Matt still had not turned his phone back on. When he went home, he wanted solitude, not the kinds of interruptions his telephone brought him. Not that he minded the occasional call from Diane. Her calls always left him feeling refreshed.

Unfortunately for Matt, when people couldn't reach him by telephone, they simply drove out to his cabin. So it was, one morning just after he'd finished breakfast, that he saw the sheriff's pickup pulling into his lane. Moments later, Bill was opening the passenger door for Kimberli.

Matt sighed as he watched them walk to the door. Why they were there Matt didn't quite understand.

"Look who's out and about," Bill said, as Matt opened the door to them.

"Hi, Kimberli."

Kimberli threw her arms around Matt. "Hi, Matt. I'm so excited. They checked me over at the hospital, and I'm cleared to do whatever I want to do, as long as I take it easy."

"Great! That's good news!" Matt exclaimed.

"It sure is. They want me to take it very easy for a little while, but I wanted to see you and thank you for everything you did for me."

"You're welcome."

"And, Matt, I'm so excited. I want to fill you in on the plans for developing a Christian counseling service as a part of Pastor Dave's church outreach into the community."

"So, how are the plans coming along?"

"We've got the building purchased," Kimberli replied, "and we're working on getting the staff together.

"The building is going to take a little work," she continued. "I'll be working there, of course, probably before the work on the building is finished and Stan has agreed to oversee the entire operation. Also, we're looking to hire another counselor or social worker in the near future, and we'll need some other help as well."

Matt smiled. "You're going to have a large operation."

"Yes," Kimberli continued, "you see, we're going to really expand our outreach in the future. We'll eventually have a shelter for homeless people, a food bank, and a thrift shop in addition to a counseling service. All of those things are in the planning stage right now."

"Good. I'm sure there's a need for all those services."

"Yes, and Matt?"

"Yes?"

"As soon as we're up and operating, I'd like for you to come see our building and see what all is going on. We'll be having an open house later, of course, but you'd be welcome to come see us anytime."

* * * * *

Matt experienced a sense of relief when Kimberli and her dad finally left his cabin. He was relieved that Kimberli seemed pleased with what was happening in her life and the prospects for a new social service agency--along with her friend Stan. He wouldn't be surprised, he told himself, to learn that Kimberli and Stan would be getting married before long.

Kimberli had made her choice. That part of Matt's life was over. He wasn't likely to go look at the building where she'd be working. Regardless, he now felt a decided calmness of his spirit. Yes, he'd not have Kimberli and her dad to contend with in the future. Not so much, anyway.

Maybe Diane would be like Kimberli, Matt reasoned. He'd seen her with a boyfriend once; she might be with him at that very moment. Furthermore, she'd have plenty of opportunities to meet guys in Dave's church.

Well, he'd find out soon enough just how fickle she might be. They'd looked at the stars together, and she seemed to enjoy that. At least she said she did. If she didn't want anything more to do with him, it would just be another sign that he'd best be moving on. He could find plenty of ways to avoid the people he wanted to avoid.

Diane had asked to go hiking into the mountains with him, perhaps pan for gold in the stream. He'd see if that still interested her. If it didn't, he wouldn't have to call her again. With a calmness that he'd not experienced for some time, Matt dialed Diane's number. To his delight, Diane was anxious to see him, and ready to explore the mountains with him.

"Let's go for a long hike together this weekend," Diane suggested. Matt agreed.

Diane reminded him again just how much she'd enjoyed watching the stars come out, and let him know that she most enjoyed being with him. "Can we go look at the stars again soon?" she asked. Matt assured her that they could--and would.

* * * * *

Leonard Wright had waited patiently for a telephone call from his friend, Richard Aramas, who had hiked into the mountains to retrieve and destroy the body of a woman he'd murdered years ago. When Wright watched the evening news on television, however, he learned that a man in those mountains had been attacked and killed by a mountain lion. Although no names were given on that first newscast, he knew it had to have been Richard. Whether he'd managed to dispose of Rosie Clanin's body as he intended before he was killed, Wright had no way of knowing. The newscast didn't even hint at the reason the man was in those mountains. Maybe nobody knew what Richard was doing there.

Aramas had made careful plans for the two of them to go to Mexico as soon as he worked through his plans for revenge on Bill Clanin. Well, those plans hadn't worked out so well for Aramas. He'd had a chance to kill the sheriff and his daughter, but hadn't managed to do so. Now, he would never have another chance. Wright felt sad about that.

And what about the sheriff's daughter? Wright had paid a guy $500 to throw a couple of beer bottles at her, and the guy said he'd done it. Knocked her cold, he'd said. That hadn't made the news, at least not yet.

He'd also paid a man $2,000 to torch that rescue mission building where the sheriff's daughter worked. That fire had made the news, so he knew he'd done it. Burned that building to the ground. Richard would have had a good laugh over that.

Now, however, Wright must think about himself. Would it be possible for the cops to pin any of these deeds on him? What was he going to do, anyway? He'd relied on Aramas to make most of the decisions, but now Aramas was dead.

Did the cops have anything they could pin on him? The question tormented Leonard Wright. He'd driven that SUV when Aramas tried to kill that sheriff, but nobody had seen who was driving it. And the SUV went to a chop shop immediately after they'd driven by that church where the sheriff was going that night. Nobody would ever find it with his fingerprints on it. Not now.

What about the times he'd parked near that rescue mission where the sheriff's daughter worked? Parked there and watched people come and go. Watched the sheriff's daughter come and go. Had anybody spotted him? Would anyone over there in Silver City know him if they had? Would they connect him with those acts of revenge?

Wright knew one thing for certain. He did not want to go to prison because he'd helped Aramas. Maybe he'd better see what he could do about settling Aramas's score with that sheriff--and then get out of the country as quickly as possible. He could go to Mexico. Live out the rest of his years there. But first, he must see what he could do about avenging the death of his friend. After all, that was what friends were for, wasn't it?
CHAPTER 17

Diane watched from her apartment window as Matt pulled his Jeep into the parking lot. She was absolutely delighted to see him, and greeted him with a warm smile and a hug the moment he was inside her apartment. "I'm really glad to see you," she whispered.

"I'm glad to see you, too," Mike responded. He meant it. "Are you ready to go on a hike?" he asked.

"Yes!"

Diane had dressed in blue jeans and a denim shirt, and was wearing hiking boots. To Matt she looked absolutely gorgeous.

She'd also packed lunches for both of them in a small cooler. Matt happily carried the cooler to the Jeep.

Together, they drove out to Matt's cabin. They'd hike from there to the stream where Matt panned for gold last summer. It was a relatively easy hike, not likely to be too tiring for either of them. They'd tackle a longer, more strenuous one at another time.

Matt introduced Diane to Scruffy, and the three of them set off into the mountains behind Matt's cabin. Their first stop was the old cabin site where Matt had found the old coins and the horseshoe.

While they rested, Matt told Diane about the old coins he'd found there, and how he suspected there might be more to be found.

"I'd like to see the coins," Diane told him, "because I've never seen any coins that old." Matt assured her she could once they were back at his cabin.

After a lengthy rest and a snack from Diane's backpack, Matt led her to a ridge where she could look across the landscape and see the spot where the plane with Kimberli on board had crashed. Matt noted that someone had cleared the wreckage. He wasn't sure who had done that.

They rested there a few moments, then made their way down the slope and to the stream where Matt had found a little gold--and Rosie Clanin's belt buckle.

"See those caves?" Matt pointed to the three caves above the stream.

"Yes."

"Do you know Sheriff Bill Clanin?"

"I know who he is," Diane replied, after a moment's thought. "Pastor Dave introduced me to him." She thought a moment. "He's Kimberli's father, isn't he?"

"Yes. So, you do know Kimberli Clanin?"

"Oh, yes," Diane told him. "Several people at church have mentioned her."

"Let me tell you a story."

"Okay."

They sat side by side on a rocky outcropping while Matt told Diane how he'd found a belt buckle along the stream bank, and how the sheriff had identified it as Rosie's--his long-missing and presumed murdered wife. He pointed out the cave where Rosie's body had been hidden, and how he'd discovered where Richard Aramas had attempted to burn the body. "I was tracking Aramas on the night when I text-messaged you that I was deep in these mountains and searching for someone."

"You found him, too, didn't you?"

"Yes. I'd have preferred to take him alive, but then an angry mountain lion found him and killed him."

"I prayed for you that night, after I got your message," Diane responded, "because I thought your search might prove dangerous."

"Thank you," Matt responded. "Yes, the search might have proved very dangerous. Richard Aramas was a psychopath, and a killer."

"He's the one who shot at the sheriff and Kimberli over at the church, isn't he?"

"Yes, as near as we know."

"Matt?" Diane whispered.

"Yes?"

"I'm so glad I found you."

Diane snuggled closer to Matt and put her arm around him. "Would you like something to eat?" she asked.

"Sure. Let's eat."

* * * * *

Much later that afternoon as they were taking a break while making their way back to Matt's cabin, Matt raised a question with Diane. "You said you'd like to go back to college," he began. "Have you thought of where you'd like to go and when?"

"Yes. Tyler recommended that I study business administration at the local branch of the state university. He says the instructors are excellent, and that he'll help me with expenses." She grinned, and then added, "Besides, that'll keep me here, so I can continue bookkeeping for him."

"So, when will you be going back to school?" Matt asked.

"I'm going to be taking an on-line class starting next month," Diane replied, "and if all goes well, I'll enroll part-time next fall. I'll be able to work at the diner while I'm going to school."

"That sounds good to me. I certainly wish you well."

Diane turned to Matt, smiled, and clutched at his arm. "There's another reason I want to go to school here," she told him.

"Oh! What's that?"

"So I can be near you."

* * * * *

Once they reached Matt's cabin and seated inside, Diane spotted Matt's guitar. "You must play the guitar?" she said.

"A little. I used to play it a lot, but not so much anymore. Sometimes I play for myself."

"Would you play something for me sometime, Matt? Not tonight, maybe, but sometime?"

"I'll tell you what," Matt said.

"Okay, what?"

"You're involved with Phillip Scott and his choir, right?" Matt asked.

"Yes."

"Well, back when I was in the service, I had a little band," Matt began. "I had a tape recording from one of our last performances, and I gave it to Phillip the one time when he and Pastor Dave and Bill Clanin were out here. He was inviting me to play at one of the church talent nights. I think that's what he called them. Anyway, I gave him the tape and told him he'd better listen to it before he asked me to play because he might think my little band was junk--and that he wouldn't want me on the stage. Tell him you want to listen to it. He can tell you the story that goes with it." Matt chuckled, then added, "You may not want to hear me play after you hear the tape either."

"Matt?"

"Yes?"

"I will ask Phillip to let me listen to the tape," Diane said, "but my guess is that the story behind it involves a bunch of hurt. Am I right?"

"Yes."

"Okay, I'll listen to the tape, but I still would like to hear you play your guitar. Please? I . . . I won't be critical of you. I hope you know that."

Matt nodded. "Yes, and I'll play for you one of these days. Maybe I'll play the guitar and you can sing."

A big smile brightened Diane's face. "Oh, Matt," she responded, "I'd like that--very, very much."

* * * * *

Much later that evening Matt and Diane ate at a restaurant near her apartment. Diane let Matt know that she'd enjoyed the day, and that she hoped they could go hiking in the mountains together again. Matt assured her that they would, and that he would play his guitar for her the next time she was at his cabin.

* * * * *

Stanley Shirron spent a great deal of time romancing Kimberli. He attended church with her every Sunday, both morning and evening services, and sometimes during the week as well. After the church had established the counseling service and Kimberli was employed there, Stan began to devote time to working with Pastor Dave in developing a homeless shelter and the other social services that the church wished to establish.

Most of all, though, Stan spent time with Kimberli. She was a beautiful woman and he enjoyed being with her when they dined at the better restaurants and attended upscale community events. Now that she had a better income, she could afford nicer clothing and a better car. "Christians ought to be the most successful people on earth," Stan repeated frequently, "and they ought to live life to the fullest."

Not everyone in the church agreed with Stan's philosophy, of course. Darlene continued to support her projects anonymously, and she prayed that Kimberli would not be taken in by Stan's extravagant approach to life. Still, it was no surprise to her when Kimberli and Stan announced that they'd become engaged to be married.

Nor was it a surprise to Matt when Darlene called him to let him know about Kimberli's approaching wedding. Both Matt and Darlene wished them well. That was one wedding Matt would not attend.

For Matt, the news provided the impetus for reflection on the day when the sheriff had called and asked him to search for a downed airplane out to the west of his cabin and the visits he'd shared with Kimberli since that time. It did not surprise him in the least that she'd planned to marry Stan. Matt had sensed Kimberli's interest in Stan from the moment she'd met him and his sports car. At any rate, since Kimberli and Stan had become an item, she was no longer calling him to visit. He certainly didn't miss the phone calls, or the sheriff's visits.

Still, despite losing Kimberli to Stan, if that were the appropriate way to view what happened, Matt did not regret his being there in those mountains when the plane crashed. He'd managed to save Kimberli's life, and he thanked God for that. What she did with her life was up to her. It was time to get on with his own life.

* * * * *

After determining what materials he'd need for various projects that summer, Matt began making regular trips to the lumber yard and the hardware store. One of the things he wanted to do was enclose the back and side yard with a fence for Scruffy. It wasn't that he thought the little dog might run away; rather, a fenced in area would protect Scruffy from some of the wild animals that roamed the mountains. Once the fence was completed, he'd build a small door in the back door of the cabin so that Scruffy could come and go as he pleased.

Matt set about three major projects for the summer months. First, he began working on the cabin, rebuilding an additional room and upgrading the wiring to that room. The other rooms would have to wait until the following summer.

As a part of this project, Matt planned to build a large porch on the side of the cabin that faced the most beautiful mountain range, build it so that he and any guests might sit there and enjoy the view.

Matt's second major project would be to build a sluice and set it up along the stream where he'd panned for gold over the past summer. Ever since he'd seen a sluice in operation, he'd thought about how interesting it would be to build one, and this was probably the best opportunity he'd ever have.

A third major summer's project would involve Matt and a gold mining company working to start mining on Matt's mining claim. There might not be a great deal of gold there, but they'd find what was there.

There were other projects Matt wanted to work on that summer. The windbreak to the north and west of his cabin was in bad shape. He planned to trim up the healthy trees, and cut out the dead ones. Then he'd replant trees to form a better windbreak for his cabin.

Furthermore, Matt planned to make space for a small workshop in his garage. There would be space for him to work with the gold he hoped to obtain from his sluice, and he just might work a little on some jewelry.

* * * * *

Diane Thomas was working in her office at Tyler's Diner one morning when her telephone rang.

"Good morning, Tyler's Diner, Diane Thomas speaking," she answered--and then she heard the voice of someone she thought she'd never hear from again.

"Diane! Donnie Bond here. How ya doin' babe?"

It was her old boyfriend, Donnie. Donnie Bond.

"Donnie!" she exclaimed, "Where are you?"

"I just got into town. I'm at the airport. How about if I catch a taxi and pick you up for lunch. We'll catch up on old times? Make some plans to get together again this evening?"

"Okay," Diane replied. "I'll arrange to take a long lunch hour. By the way, Donnie, where are you staying while you're in town?"

"Where am I staying?" Donnie laughed. "With you, sweetheart, of course."

Diane had to laugh. That was the Donnie she'd known, all right. He'd always been a lot of fun. She'd look forward to seeing him.

* * * * *

Matt called Tyler's Diner late that afternoon, hoping to speak with Diane. He'd spent time over at the stream where he was building his sluice, and thought she might like to hike over to see it in operation soon.

To Matt's surprise, Tyler himself answered the phone. "Diane's not here," he told Matt. "Seems like an old boyfriend showed up, and she took the afternoon off. My guess is that he's here to stay, or else he's here to take her somewhere with him. Hate to say it, Matt, but I'll probably be looking for a new bookkeeper soon."

Well, that was that. Matt had a good idea that he'd never see Diane again--and the thought made him very sad. He'd really liked her, but then she'd made her choice--and that was that.

* * * * *

Matt turned off his cell phone. He'd never wanted that phone in the first place. There was no one he wanted to hear from, not anymore. He'd moved here to get away from his hurts, to isolate himself from the world. It had been a mistake for him to believe he might find love with another woman. He'd had two chances, and both had ended badly. He would leave that turned-off phone at home from now on; that would mean one less thing for him to carry.

Still, he could enjoy the mountains and he had plenty of projects to keep him occupied throughout the summer and fall. He'd keep working on the cabin, finish setting up his sluice, and work toward developing a gold mine. Yes, Matt reasoned, he had plenty of things to do. It was time for him to forget the past and get on with his own life.

* * * * *

Darlene was very concerned when Diane did not come to church at all the following Sunday. She'd really liked her, and called Tyler Baymont to see if she were ill.

"No, she's not ill," Tyler told Darlene. "An old boyfriend showed up last week, and she quit work here. Took off with him, I guess. I don't know where they went, and I don't much care. Right now, I'm looking for a new bookkeeper--one with a good work-ethic. One that'll stick with the job."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Darlene told Tyler.

"Yeah," Tyler responded, "I thought she was sweet on Matt Davis, that she'd stay around for good because of him, but I guess she liked her old boyfriend better."

Darlene knew that news regarding Diane would be very hard on Matt. She immediately dialed Matt's phone number, only to find that his phone was turned off. That probably meant that he already knew Diane was gone. Maybe she and Dave should pay a visit to Matt. Make sure he was all right. She'd talk with Dave about that.

* * * * *

Leonard Wright sat in his apartment contemplating what he should do next. His good friend, Richard Aramas, had wanted so badly to kill Bill Clanin, and he'd failed. Now Richard was dead. Whether he'd managed to get rid of that body he'd hidden in the mountains, Wright wasn't quite sure.

The cops would no doubt compare the bullets fired at the sheriff with those fired from the rifle Aramas was carrying when the mountain lion attacked him. They'd know then that Aramas was the one who'd fired at the sheriff and his daughter, and almost killed that other guy.

Maybe it was best that he just get out of the country, Wright reasoned. The cops couldn't pin an attempted murder charge on Aramas now that he was dead, but they might get his driver as an accessory to attempted murder. Something like that. Whatever the correct legal term was.

He'd bought that house in Mexico for Aramas and himself some time ago. Bought it under an assumed name and paid cash. He could go there and be relatively safe.

Still, Richard Aramas had been his friend. His good friend. Maybe his only real friend. He owed it to his memory to kill that sheriff--and his daughter.

How might he do that? Aramas had always made the big decisions, made the big plans. He wasn't here now. Leonard Wright could make decisions, too, however. He'd find a way to carry out his friend's revenge.

First, he'd shadow the sheriff like he had earlier. Find out his patterns of behavior. Where he'd likely be, and when. Where he parked his vehicles. He'd also try to find out where the daughter was now that the rescue mission where she worked had burned to the ground. Kill 'em both. That's what he'd do. Do it for his friend. Yes!

Wait! He shouldn't have to shadow that sheriff, not much anyway. He likely still attended church, and he most likely drives out to see that guy in the mountains. What is his name? Davis. Yes. Matt Davis. There's a good stretch of little-traveled highway out that way. Maybe he could get 'em—get all three of 'em. The sheriff, his daughter, and this Davis character. He'd get 'em all.

He'd go for the sheriff first. Forget that other guy for the time being. He'd shadow the sheriff, learn his habits, and see what he could work out. He'd do it for his friend. Yes! Revenge would be sweet.
CHAPTER 18

Sheriff Bill Clanin lost no time in requesting that the police lab compare bullets fired from the rifle Richard Aramas was carrying when he was killed by that mountain lion with the bullets that were fired at him and Kimberli a few days before. He was not surprised to learn that they matched.

Furthermore, that rifle was reported stolen not long ago. Someone had tried to obliterate the serial number, but had not been successful, and the serial number matched that of a gun that had been reported stolen.

The photo the sheriff had of Leonard Wright, when modified to account for his age now as compared to his age at which that photo had been taken, matched the one Stanley Shirron had taken of the man seated across and down the street from the rescue mission where Kimberly worked. Wright would have had no business there except to keep an eye on people coming and going from the rescue mission--no doubt with an eye to mischief.

There was no doubt in the sheriff's mind that Wright was a partner in Aramas's attack on him and on Kimberli. There was no way Wright would ever tell the police anything, however. Bill Clanin knew that. Nevertheless, they'd keep an eye on him. Be alert to what he might do next.

"Be alert," the sheriff cautioned Matt, "because Leonard Wright just might try to kill us both."

* * * * *

Matt continued to work on his cabin throughout the summer. He fenced in the back and side yard as a safe place for Scruffy, and then added a small door in the back of the cabin so that Scruffy could come and go as he pleased.

He also completed building his sluice and spent some time working it. The stream proved to have a variety of gold flecks and nuggets, and Matt collected several small plastic bottles of gold.

Maybe he'd set up a small workshop where he could work the gold into jewelry. Maybe he'd set up a smelter so he could work the gold he'd found in the stream. That would have to be in the future, but he'd keep both projects in the back of his mind. Or maybe he'd share some of the gold with Darlene. She'd been very good to him. Sometimes he wondered if she'd like to hike out into the mountains to see his sluice in operation, but then reasoned against asking her. She was married. Matt wasn't about to have anything to do with another man's wife.

The gold mining company Matt had contacted had built an access road from the highway to his mining claim and moved in some equipment. They'd be able to dig into the mountain by early fall. In the meantime, they'd done enough work to determine that it not only would be profitable to sink a mine on Matt's claim, but to recommend that he should file a claim on either side of it. Matt filed two other claims without delay.

Matt also cut out the dead trees in his windbreak, and then planted new trees. It would be several years before the new trees were tall enough to shelter his cabin, but that was all right. Matt would watch them grow.

At any rate, the summer passed quickly for Matt. Even Bill Clanin seemed to leave him alone. In fact, Matt couldn't remember the last time that the sheriff had paid him a visit, other than to warn him about Leonard Wright. Maybe the sheriff didn't have much to visit him about now that Kimberli was married to Stan Shirron.

Matt continued to listen to Pastor Dave's radio program on Sunday mornings. The choir usually sang several numbers, and Matt could imagine Kimberli singing with them. Maybe Stan would have joined the choir as well.

Darlene had tried to call Matt several times with the hope that he'd turned his phone back on. He hadn't. Dave and Darlene then drove out to Matt's cabin but he wasn't home. Darlene left a note on his door and asked him to call her.

Matt hesitated about calling Darlene. She'd been awfully good to him, and he really owed her--big time. Still, he just wasn't certain how she'd respond to him. Well, he'd call her. See what happened. If it wasn't appropriate, he wouldn't have to call her again.

Darlene answered. To Matt's relief, she seemed pleased to hear from him. He told her what he'd been doing, about his work on the cabin, and about his sluice. "I'll have some gold for you one of these days," he told her, once he found that she still made jewelry. She seemed pleased with that.

To Matt's relief, Darlene didn't tell or question him about Diane or about Kimberli. Matt reasoned that she already knew how things were between him and both women. But then, he reasoned, Darlene had class. He should not have worried; Darlene wouldn't hurt anyone. Her pleasure was to lift people up and not tear them down.

"We'd love to have you in church," Darlene told Matt, as they concluded their conversation, "and we'd love to have you involved in any of the activities we have available." She hesitated a moment, then added, "You know, I've heard you play your guitar on the tape you gave Phill, and we'd love to have you participate in one of our talent nights."

Matt thanked her for her concern. It wouldn't do to tell her how he wouldn't much like being there when Kimberli and Stan were there, but then he'd guess she already knew that. At any rate, it was nice that somebody cared enough about him to invite him. Yes, Darlene had class, a whole lot more than some people he could name.

And, Matt let Darlene know that he still listened to and appreciated the church's radio program. "Tell Dave that I enjoy his messages and tell Phill that I enjoy the choir and the special music," Matt told her as they concluded their visit. He meant that, too.

Then, just as Matt was ready to say "Good bye," Darlene interrupted him. "Matt?" she said, her voice soft and gentle.

"Yes?"

"I know things haven't gone your way sometimes," Darlene said, "but I want you to know that Dave and I do care about you. There are others who do, too."

Matt smiled. He almost told Darlene that he loved her, but that wouldn't have been a good thing to say, and he knew that ."Yes, I know," he whispered.

"So call me again sometime," she added, "please."

Matt promised he would.

* * * * *

Summer turned into Fall. Many of Matt's outside activities would be winding down soon with the approaching winter. His sluice had worked out nicely, and provided him with countless hours of strenuous activity. He planned to move it upstream next spring and continue working it as long as the gold turned up. The gold mining operation was beginning to pay out, and the mining engineer said they'd be exploring the adjoining claims for gold soon. Matt wouldn't be fabulously wealthy, but the gold mine was proving profitable. Scruffy appeared to be enjoying his fenced play-yard as well as his hikes into the mountains with Matt. Yes, the summer had passed quickly for Matt.

It was good that Matt had a number of things going to hold his interest. Keeping busy gave him little time to reflect on his experiences with Kimberli and Diane. Winter might be a little harder in that regard, although Matt had a number of interests to keep him busy during the winter.

And then, early one morning, just as the first snow of the season was beginning to fall, Scruffy growled to let Matt know that someone was coming up his drive. He stared in disbelief as a VW "bug" came toward his cabin. He recognized that car, all right. It was Kimberli's VW, the very same car he'd driven back from Silver City for her when she'd moved back "home" following her hospitalization. What could be going on? He hoped she wasn't bringing Stanley Shirron with her.

As the car came closer, Matt could see that Kimberli herself was driving. There didn't appear to be anyone else in the car with her. What could Kimberli possibly want with him? And why was she driving her old VW? From what he'd heard, Stan had insisted that she get a new car, a "sporty" new car.

* * * * *

Leonard Wright drove slowly around town that afternoon. He followed Bill Clanin as he drove from the sheriff's office building to the church he attended. Saw the sheriff go inside to visit with someone, probably the pastor--someone named David Lee, Wright noted on the sign outside the church. As Wright parked down the street so he could keep an eye on the sheriff's vehicle, a plan was forming in his mind--a plan for revenge.

Years ago, he and Richard Aramas had built a bomb and placed it under a man's vehicle. Aramas had designed the bomb, but Wright had purchased some of the parts, and watched him assemble it. They'd been many miles away when that bomb went off, killing two people, and nobody could connect them to it. They hadn't left a clue. He just might be able to do it again.

Leonard Wright began to make a checklist of the items he'd need to assemble a bomb. He'd make one that was much more powerful than the one they'd made years ago. Make it so it would blow the sheriff and his white pickup sky-high. KA-BOOM! That thought pleased Leonard Wright.

His next step would be to determine exactly where the sheriff parked his truck overnight. And he'd begin right away to gather materials for the bomb. He'd gather them slowly, one item at a time and in different stores so nobody would get suspicious. KA-BOOM! Yes! That was a project he looked forward to.
CHAPTER 19

Matt couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. Kimberli parked her car, got out, and headed directly for the front door of his cabin. Matt quickly opened the door for her.

"Hi, Kimberli," Matt said. Regardless of how he felt toward what she'd done, he still liked seeing her.

"Hi, Matt. May I . . . May I come in?"

"Sure. Come on in." It was a little awkward for Matt, maybe for Kimberli, too, but he'd make the best of the visit. "May I take your coat?"

"Yes, please do." Kimberli let Matt help her out of her coat. He took it and put it where he always put guest's coats--on his bed.

"Have a chair," Matt invited, motioning her toward his chairs.

Kimberli sat down. "I want to talk to you, Matt," she began, her voice serious--and maybe a little stressed.

"Okay. Can I make you a cup of coffee?"

"No, I'm okay. Well, maybe later, okay?"

"Okay." Matt sat down. This was not the Kimberli that Matt knew. Something must be wrong.

Kimberli's eyes searched his. "Matt, I . . . I need to talk to you."

"Okay." He'd try to be reassuring.

"I made a terrible mistake a few months ago," Kimberli began, then hesitated.

"A terrible mistake? How so?"

"Yes, I made a terrible mistake." Kimberli grimaced. "I married Stanley Shirron."

"You aren't getting along?" Matt asked the obvious question.

"He's long gone."

"He's long gone? Gone where?"

"Yep. He's long gone. You see, Stan went to Florida about three weeks ago. He didn't tell me up front what he was going to do there, but I found out later that he went to interview for a job." Kimberli paused, and wiped at her eyes with a tissue, then continued. "Then, about a week ago, he told me he'd taken a job in Florida, that he'd be moving out."

"Just like that?" Matt couldn't quite believe it.

"Yep! Just like that. He moved out the same day he told me he was leaving. Cleared out all of his possessions. But . . . But that's not all he did."

"Oh! What else did Stan do?"

"He filed for divorce before he left."

"He's divorcing you?" Matt was incredulous.

"Yep!" Kimberli was near tears. "I told you I made a terrible mistake a few months ago. Well, I should have investigated Stan a little better. You see, I found out from my attorney that I'm Stan's third wife."

"His third wife, eh? The guy really gets around, doesn't he?"

"Yep!" Kimberli responded. "At first I was very sad, but then I got mad, more at myself than at Stan. I should have known from the way he came on to me that he was . . . well, what he was. He really buttered me up and made me feel like the most wonderful woman in the world. Now, he's apparently got somebody else on the string . . . some woman in Florida."

Matt wasn't surprised at what Kimberli was saying. From some of the things his friend Tim Audrey had said, there were some things about Stanley Shirron that needed, well, clarification, if not explanation. He was sorry that Kimberli had to find these things out the hard way. But, what was done was done. He'd try to help Kimberli all he could. Matt glanced at her left hand; she wasn't wearing any rings.

"So what's next for you?" Matt asked.

Although her eyes were wet with tears, Kimberli smiled. "I'm going to be straight with you, Matt," she said. "What I want most right now is to be your friend. Will you let me be your friend?"

"Sure, you are my friend."

"Are you sure you want me to be your friend?"

"Of course I do."

"Thank you, Matt." What Kimberli wanted to say was that she wanted Matt to be more than a friend, but then she had this little secret--and Matt might not want her when she told him.

"Want that cup of coffee now?" Matt asked, wanting to change the direction of this conversation, at least for the moment.

"Yes, thank you."

Matt brewed two fresh cups of coffee, brought them out, and sat down with Kimberli. He noted that it was mid-morning already. "Aren't you working today?" he asked.

"No. I . . . I took some time off," Kimberli explained. "Pastor Dave encouraged me to do that. You see, I wasn't being very effective at working with people when I was thinking about my own problems. Anyway, we have another counselor who's been working with me, and she's perfectly capable of working with my clients."

Although she hated to admit it, Kimberli was almost burned out from the long hours she'd worked at the social service agency in Silver City. She desperately needed to get away from work for a time to rejuvenate herself. But then Stan had left her, and it was almost too much for her to endure. Even the task of helping her church develop a counseling service seemed overwhelming. She just had to get away from her problems for a little while, and Matt was the one person she could spend time with who wouldn't hassle her. She needed support right then, and Matt was the most supportive person she knew.

"What do you say that we drive over to town and have some lunch?" Matt asked.

"Okay, but Matt?"

"Um-hmm?"

"Are you sure I'm not interrupting your plans for the day?"

"No. It's okay."

"Is . . . Is that girl . . . um, Diane was her name . . . still working at Tyler's Diner?" Kimberli asked.

"I don't think so," Matt replied. "Would you like to go there to eat?"

"Yes. I've always liked Tyler."

"Is it okay if Diane is there?" Matt had to know.

"Um . . . Well, I . . . I guess so," Kimberli replied. She thought a moment. "I'm . . . I'm sorry, Matt. I'm acting like a jealous woman. It's just that I know she likes you, but . . . yes, it's okay if she's there. I . . . I won't make a scene."

Matt wasn't sure whether they'd find Diane there or not. After all, by now she might have decided to go back to work and forget about her old boyfriend. That wasn't likely, but then, you never knew.

Matt drove Kimberli over to Tyler's Diner and they visited with Tyler while they ate lunch. He hadn't heard anything from Diane, and said he didn't expect to. "I'm looking for a new bookkeeper," he told them, "so send any likely candidates over to see me."

Matt and Kimberli assured him that they would. She'd ask Pastor Dave and Phillip Scott if they knew of anyone who might be qualified to keep books for Tyler. They just might know of somebody looking for a job.

As Matt and Kimberli were leaving the diner, Matt once again handed Tyler two envelopes containing cash for Brenda and Marjorie, the waitresses. Tyler thanked him. "You know," Tyler told him, "both girls are awfully grateful for your help. They tell me you've made it much easier for them to stay in college, and they're looking forward to the day when they have an income and can pass along help to deserving students like you've done." That was all the thanks Matt needed.

Kimberli could only marvel at the differences she was observing between Matt and how Stan would have acted. Stan would have insisted that the students know exactly who their benefactor was, and he'd expect a show of thanks.

Back at Matt's cabin, as Kimberli prepared to drive herself back to her apartment, she turned to Matt. "I'd like the chance to go hiking with you soon," she told him, "if . . . if you want me to."

"I'd like that," Matt told her. "We'll have to wait for the weather to clear, and then we'll do just that."

"I've got a lot of decisions to make right now," Kimberli said. "I have to decide if I want to stay in the apartment Stan and I shared, and I have to decide what I want to do about my work. Then, too, Dave wants me involved in helping the church set up more social service outreaches."

"You're going to be a busy girl," Matt said.

"Yes, but I'm not going to forget you," Kimberli responded. "I want you for my friend, and I'll be back out to see you before long."

* * * * *

Although Matt was pleased that Kimberli had sought him out, he also was pleased that she hadn't insisted that he turn his cell phone on. She'd called him regularly after they'd met, yet she hadn't hesitated to abandon him when another guy came along. He wasn't about to start those long telephone conversations again. She'd find another guy soon enough, find another guy and forget about him, of that Matt was absolutely certain. The fact was, Matt didn't bother to carry the phone with him anymore. There wasn't anybody Matt wanted to hear from.

For her part, Kimberli was not about to forget about Matt Davis. How she had been so foolish as to fall for Stanley Shirron was beyond her thinking, and she chastised herself regularly for making what she saw as a terrible mistake. Still, she had to remember that two other women had fallen for Stan, and that he was extremely charismatic. "Stop being so hard on yourself," Darlene kept telling her, "and she slowly began to accept that advice." Time would heal the wounds; at least, that's what Kimberli kept telling herself. She had to get on with her life.

* * * * *

Leonard Wright set about gathering supplies for the bomb he was building. It wasn't as easy as when his friend helped build the earlier one, but he was trying to do it right. He'd purchased the things he'd need from different sources so nobody could get suspicious about what he was doing. He also spent time keeping an eye on the sheriff and where he parked his truck at night.

Sometimes things worked out perfectly, Wright told himself, after learning where the sheriff parked his truck most nights. It was not far from his house, but it was in a poorly illuminated area. It was not in a spot where Wright would have parked had he been the sheriff because of the poor illumination--but that was to Wright's liking. With a little luck, he'd be able to plant that bomb under the sheriff's truck and get completely away from the area without being seen.

There was a minor problem. It wouldn't be possible for him to wire the bomb so that it would explode when the sheriff turned the ignition switch. He'd have to get inside the truck to do that, and it was locked every time he'd checked. That was okay, though. He'd detonate it with his smart phone, just like he'd seen those guys do in a television movie. He knew a man who knew how to build car-bombs. He'd ask him what to do. How to fix the bomb so he could set it off with his smart phone.

Once he had that bomb stuck up under the sheriff's truck, he could wait nearby and watch. When the sheriff got into his truck, he'd press the right buttons on his phone and trigger that bomb. BOOM! That would take care of the man who'd sent his friend Richard to prison. Ha! Ha! Ha! Leonard Wright laughed quietly to himself.
CHAPTER 20

It would be several days before Kimberli worked up the courage to drive to Matt's cabin again. He'd been so nice to her when she went out that first time since Stan left her, and yet--how could she expect him to want anything to do with her after the way she'd treated him. From his point of view, Kimberli reasoned, she'd dropped him cold once Stan came along, and she knew this. Finally, however, with Darlene's encouragement, Kimberli again drove out to visit Matt.

To Kimberli's relief, Matt was home, and he was welcoming. Still, Matt always seemed to be involved in something when she visited him, and Kimberli had the distinct feeling that she was interrupting his activities.

Today, however, Kimberli had a mission. A musical group was presenting a concert at her church the coming Sunday evening, and she was hoping to invite Matt to attend--hopefully with her. It might not be a real "date," but it just might be the start of something between Matt and her. She could hope, right?

"You know what happened the last time I came near your church, don't you?" Matt teased.

Kimberli nodded. She remembered, all right. He'd ended up in the hospital with several gunshot wounds. "I don't think that will happen again," she told him.

Well, what could he say? "Okay." He'd go to church with her and her dad that night.

"Can Dad and I meet you in the parking lot, say about fifteen minutes before the service will start?" Kimberli asked. She wouldn't expect him to pick her up, not this time, anyway. Maybe that would come later. "We can go in together."

Matt assured her that would be fine.

As Matt would reflect on their conversation later that day, he wasn't at all sure that meeting her and her dad and attending church with them was such a great idea. Not that he expected to be shot at again, but Kimberli's marriage to Stanley Shirron had taken away a great deal of any pleasure he might have had in attending church with her. Well, he told himself, he'd go this once, but then he'd see exactly how much he'd enjoyed himself before he made plans to attend again.

* * * * *

Kimberli wanted to look especially nice for Matt when they went to church together. She planned to wear her nicest dress. He'd never seen her in a dress. She'd worn one the night someone shot at her and her dad, of course, but Matt hadn't really seen her dress then because of the fracas.

Selecting a dress to wear wouldn't be a problem, because she simply didn't have many nice clothes. What few clothes she had came straight from the thrift shop. They were just fine, of course, but they were from the thrift shop. Kimberli remembered how Stan had suggested more than once that she get some new and glamorous clothes.

Christians ought to look something special, Stan was fond of saying. He'd encouraged her to buy new and up-to-date fashions, even though he knew she couldn't afford them. "Put it on your credit card," Stan had advised her, as if that bill wouldn't come due. Well, some day, she hoped she'd be able to buy herself a nice dress and matching accessories from a department store–but that would be in the future after she'd saved some money.

Kimberli seldom wore perfume. She simply couldn't afford it any more than she could afford a new dress. That night, however, would be special, and the luxury of perfume would help her feel special, too. She'd wear just a hint of perfume–for Matt.

The truth was, they'd never paid her much to work at the rescue mission, and her pay barely covered her apartment rent and food and gasoline for her car. Her dad had given her the little car, and it had, indeed, been a blessing. Otherwise, she would have had to ride public transportation every day, and that just wasn't safe in that neighborhood.

She'd worked much too hard there, too. Burned herself out. That had, Kimberli reasoned, contributed to her bad judgment in marrying Stan. She should have set some limits on her time, as people had suggested many times, set some limits and taken better care of herself. Well, she'd try her best to do that now. Matt could help her take care of herself--if he still wanted her. She'd do her best to be his companion and friend.

Kimberli had thought a great deal about what life would be like with Matt. She'd certainly not want a full time job if she were married to him; rather, she'd want to spend time with Matt. Perhaps she could help at the church counseling service after she'd had time to rejuvenate herself, but she didn't see herself working the long days she'd put in in Silver City. No! If Matt would have her, she'd spend her time with him.

* * * * *

The concert at Kimberli's church proved to be simply wonderful. The musicians were quite talented and sang many contemporary Christian songs as well as older hymns of the faith. Kimberli thoroughly enjoyed herself, especially with Matt there with her, and Matt seemed to be enjoying himself.

After the concert, the congregation was invited to the fellowship hall for refreshments and a chance to meet the musicians. Pastor Dave and Darlene as well as Kimberli found the opportunity to introduce Matt to a number of people, especially those involved in various activities within the church that might interest him.

The apartment which Kimberli had shared with Stan when they were married was much too expensive for her to maintain by herself, and she had moved back to her dad's home for the time being. It was when Matt took her home after the concert and social hour that she had the opportunity to ask him if she might come out to his cabin the following morning--just to visit. "I really need to talk to you, Matt," she told him.

Matt assured her that would be fine. "I'll need to run a few errands tomorrow," he told her, "so after we talk, you come with me, and we'll stop by Tyler's Diner for lunch."

Kimberli hugged him. "Thank you, Matt," she whispered. Moments later, she added, "I really need you, Matt. I hope you know that."

Matt held her for a moment. He could forgive her for the way she'd treated him. "I know that," he told her, "and I'm here for you.

* * * * *

What Kimberli had said some time ago about wanting to spend time in the mountains with Matt was absolutely true. As a child, she had loved camping and fishing in those same mountains with her dad. Then her job had taken her away from the mountains and into the big city. Her world had seemed so far removed from the mountains she loved that she was afraid she'd never again have the opportunity to spend time there.

She'd never really been at home in the big city. Kimberli had often longed to hike through those mountains again. If Matt would accept her as a wife, she could look forward to camping and hiking and fishing and just enjoying the stars and the mountains as she had with her father when she was a child. If only Matt would accept her as his. If only he would accept her, Kimberli promised herself, she'd do her best to be to him the best and most faithful friend he ever had.

Now, as she planned to talk with Matt the following morning, she knew he might very well reject her. If he did, Kimberli knew she'd have only herself to blame.
CHAPTER 21

Kimberli arrived at Matt's cabin just as he was finishing breakfast. He'd not expected her quite that early, but it was okay with him. He'd enjoyed her company the previous night at church, and was looking forward to spending the day with her. One look at Kimberli, however, suggested to Matt that she hadn't slept much the previous night. Something must be troubling her. He'd find out soon enough what that was.

Something was troubling Kimberli, all right, and she'd not slept much the previous night. In response to Matt's question of "How are you?" Kimberli said what was on her mind: "I'm very troubled, Matt."

"How so?"

Kimberli breathed a sigh. "M-Matt," she began, "I . . . I want you to know right up front that I really, really love you. I've loved you from the moment that I saw your face when you got me out of that airplane, and that I've . . . I've loved you more and more every day since then. I made a terrible mistake in not pursuing you earlier, but I'm trying my best to correct that mistake, and I hope you can forgived me for what I've done. Maybe this sounds too forward, but if . . . if you were to ask me to marry you right now, I'd not hesitate for a single second." Kimberli hung her head as she spoke, and Matt saw the tears well up in her big brown eyes.

Matt smiled but didn't respond.

"If you'll have me, I'll . . . I'll be the best friend you ever had," Kimberli said, her voice a whisper. Kimberli was silent for a long moment. "That was the easy part," she continued. "Now comes the . . . the hard . . . the hard part . . . the really hard part." Kimberli paused as if she were searching for the right words.

Matt put his arm around her shoulder and drew her closer to him. "Kimberli, what is it?" he gently interrupted her. Get on with it. He hated it when she cried.

"I'm . . . I'm sorry. I know you don't like it when I cry," Kimberli mumbled. She was really sobbing now. Tears were streaming down her face faster than she could wipe them away.

Matt softly called her name again: "Kimberli, what's the problem?" He caressed her cheek, gently turning her beautiful but tear-streaked face toward him.

"Matt, I . . . I have to tell you. I just found out--I'm pregnant."

* * * * *

Leonard Wright was having difficulties in assembling the bomb he hoped to place under the sheriff's truck. Richard Aramas wasn't there to help him--and he needed some help. He thought about going on the internet and searching for one of the sites he knew existed on how to make a car-bomb. But then he remembered that a friend of his had done just that--and the cops had showed up on his doorstep two days later. They'd known he'd searched for information on making a bomb, and they wanted to know what he had in mind.

No, Wright would not do an internet search. That would be a sure way to tip off the cops as to what he was doing. After a good deal of thought, he remembered the name of a friend of Aramas who might know how to help him with his project. With that thought in mind, he located and placed a call to Damon Star. "I need to talk with you, Damon," he told Star.

"Yeah? Well, come right on over and we'll talk," Star replied. Wright knew he could count on his friend.

* * * * *

Matt wasn't at all surprised to learn that Kimberli was pregnant. In fact, he'd have been surprised if she weren't. He'd already thought through his response to her.

"So, you're pregnant," he responded to her statement.

"Yes." Kimberli looked at Matt, not at all certain as to how he'd take that news.

"And you still want to marry me?" Matt asked.

"Yes!" Kimberli exclaimed. "More so now than ever before."

Matt smiled.

"I want my child to have a good father," she continued, "and I want you to be that man. I . . . I hope that my being pregnant won't make you turn your back on me." It was the best she could do in expressing her feelings. The next step was up to Matt.

"No, I won't turn my back on you because you're pregnant," Matt told her. "It doesn't make any difference in the way I feel about you." The baby wouldn't be his, of course, but Matt knew that he could love it as if it were.

"Are you . . . Are you sure, Matt? Are you sure it . . . it doesn't make . . . any difference in the way . . . in the way you feel about me?"

"I'm sure."

"Real sure?" Kimberli hoped she could believe what Matt was telling her.

"Yes. Real sure."

Kimberli choked back the tears and breathed a tremendous sigh of relief. "Dad said that my being pregnant wouldn't make any difference to a man who really loved me," she whispered, "and I'm so glad he was right."

Matt hugged her for several moments. He hoped she'd never have to cry like that again. "Your dad was absolutely right about that."

"Matt?"

"Yes?"

"I want you to know that I've thought a great deal about what it means to me to be a mother."

"And?"

"I'm certainly not going to continue working full time," Kimberli replied. "In fact, I'm going to take a good deal of time to be at home, to be a mother and to be your wife--your partner. Maybe I'll go back to work at some time in the future, but for now, I just need you."

Matt nodded his understanding. "Now about this other thing you said?"

Kimberli looked up at him, questioningly. "What . . . What other thing, Matt?"

"About your willingness to marry me. Were you serious?"

"Absolutely."
CHAPTER 22

CHIRP! CHIRP! CHIRP!

It was Darlene who had convinced Matt that he should turn on his cell phone. With her urging, he'd reprogrammed the jaring DING! DING! DING! ringtone into a milder, almost humorous CHIRP! CHIRP! CHIRP! He could do that now. Phone calls didn't trouble him like they had in the past, and he was quick to answer.

"Hello."

"Hi, Matt."

He recognized Darlene's cheerful voice. "Hi, Darlene."

"Matt, I'm so happy to hear that you and Kimberli plan to be married!" Darlene exclaimed. "Congratulations to you two wonderful people."

"Thank you," Matt replied. "I really appreciate just how nice you've been to both of us."

"You're welcome. Oh, Matt?"

"Yes?"

"Dave and I are celebrating something that's rather important, too, not anything super-special like an engagement, but important, nonetheless. We'd like to have you and Kimberli join us tomorrow night for dinner at our house. I've already asked Kimberli and she's agreeable."

"I'll plan on that. Thanks." Matt was certain Kimberli would want to go. Both of them would look forward to seeing Dave and Darlene and celebrating something with them. Perhaps he and Kimberli could have a marriage as wonderful as theirs seemed to be. "Now, you said that you're celebrating something," Matt continued. "May I ask what, or is it a secret?"

"No, it's not a secret," Darlene replied. Matt detected a distinct smile in her voice. "Our jeweler just sold Dave's first pieces of handcrafted jewelry, a decorative gold pin, pendant, and earring set. Dave's been working with that technique you showed us, and the jeweler really liked his work. The pin, pendant, and earring set was a real quick sale, and the jeweler wants us to bring him all we can make. He says there are only three or four people in this part of the country who can make things like those–and we're the best."

"Wonderful! I'm not surprised, though, Darlene. You're both very talented people and I'm happy for you." Matt sighed. He'd tease her just a little. "I wish I had your talents," he said, "but you know how it is. When they passed out the talents--"

"Oh, Matt, don't be silly," Darlene interrupted. "You do have talents. After all, it was you who showed us how to do that particular kind of work, and I won't stand for you saying anything negative about yourself. Never! Never!" Darlene giggled. "Have I chastised you enough?"

Matt grinned. No woman had ever been so free to say what she wanted to say to him as was Darlene. "Enough! I give up! My hands are in the air."

"All right! Don't let me hear you saying nasty things about yourself again." Darlene giggled, and then continued. "Anyway, Dave and I decided that all four of us have something nice to celebrate so we ought to get together and just do it."

"That's a great idea! I assume that Kimberli knows what you're celebrating?"

"Yes. I talked with her just before I called you. She was happy for us, and she was certain that you'd want to join us, too." Darlene was silent for a moment. "You know something, Matt?"

"What's that?"

Darlene giggled. "It'll sure be nice when I have to dial only one number to talk to both you and Kimberli."

* * * * *

"Dave and I have something to show you guys," Darlene announced, her voice just a little secretive, once they'd finished dinner and both Matt and Kimberli had exclaimed over the photographs of Dave's jewelry. "It's really for both of you, but we'll let Matt have first look."

Kimberli grinned. "Okay."

Dave went directly to his desk, removed a small box from a drawer, and brought it to Matt. "Open it, and take a look. Tell us if you like it," Darlene invited.

Matt carefully opened the box while Kimberli looked on over his shoulder. Inside was a set of three beautiful gold rings, including one with a sparkling diamond.

"They're simply beautiful," Kimberli breathed, her eyes sparkling like the diamond. "It's the nicest ring set I've ever seen."

"Yes, it certainly is a beautiful set." Matt studied the rings and then looked from Darlene to Dave. "One or both of you made these, didn't you?"

"We both worked on them. They're our engagement gift to both of you, that is, if you like them," Darlene replied.

"Of course we like them. They're simply beautiful." Matt echoed Kimberli's statement. Wasn't this gift a wonderful expression of love from Dave and Darlene to him and Kimberli! The thought that they'd done this humbled Matt.

"It looks to me like one of those is an engagement ring meant for a very special girl, Matt," Dave said. "Why don't you see if it will fit Kimberli's finger?"

"Okay." Matt grinned as he carefully lifted the diamond engagement ring from the box and Kimberli shyly held out her hand. "It's a perfect fit," Matt said, as he slipped the beautiful ring on her slender finger.

"It's a perfect fit, all right," Kimberli echoed, "and it's simply beautiful. Simply beautiful! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" She jumped from her chair and hugged Darlene and Dave and Matt in turn, fairly dancing from one to the other in her excitement and pleasure. "I love it," she whispered, as she held her hand up and studied the ring, her face radiant. "I just simply love it." Tears of joy quickly filled her eyes as she turned to Dave and Darlene. "You have been so very wonderful to me and to Matt, and I love you both."

Matt quickly drew Kimberli into his arms. For one precious moment they were together in the warmest embrace either of them could imagine. "What do you say," Matt whispered, "that we talk to Dave about setting a date for our wedding?" Kimberli could only nod her head in complete agreement.

* * * * *

Sheriff Bill Clanin watched on the surveillance camera's video monitor as Leonard Wright approached his truck late that night. He'd positioned the camera on a building across the street several years ago in order to keep an eye on his house and vehicles parked out front, and Wright's intentions were obvious.

Ever since Tim Audrey had called, Bill had paid particular attention to that video monitor. He'd set the motion sensor to wake him if anyone approached the pickup or his house.

The motion sensor had detected Wright approaching the sheriff's pickup twice over the past week. Now he was approaching with a small duffle bag. It wasn't hard to guess what he had in that bag.

Bill Clanin immediately alerted Deputy Brian Olsen.

Leonard Wright cautiously approached the sheriff's pickup, looked around to see if he could spot anyone watching him, and then started to crawl under the pickup. Moments later Sheriff Bill Clanin and Deputy Sheriff Brian Olsen were standing on either side of the pickup.

"Come on out from under there," the sheriff ordered, beaming his flashlight on Wright as he spoke, "and be quick about it."

Wright knew when he was caught. "Yes, sir."

"You got a bomb in that duffle bag there?" the sheriff asked.

"I don't have to talk to you," Wright growled. "Don't have to answer any questions."

"Handcuff him and take him on in, Brian," the sheriff said, then turned away, retrieved his phone, and started to call the bomb squad.

Wright grimaced and cursed under his breath. They'd caught him, all right, but they weren't going to take him to prison. No way. Not at his age. He didn't want to die in prison. He'd failed to get the sheriff. Failed to pay off his friend's debt. There was only one way out now.

As Brian reached for the handcuffs, Wright grabbed his smart phone and pressed the code buttons.

He'd not been able to get the bomb attached to the underside of the pickup as he'd intended. He could still cheat the time in prison he was facing. The bomb lay on the concrete beside the pickup, and Wright fell on it as he triggered the explosives. Sheriff Bill Clanin and Deputy Brian Olsen dived for cover when they saw what Wright was going to do.

KER-BOOM!

Leonard Wright didn't move. He'd been killed instantly when the bomb exploded. They'd never send him to prison now.

* * * * *

Kimberli never expected to hear directly from Stanley Shirron again, and she would not. Perhaps that was best. Her attorney was in contact with him, and quickly finalized the divorce papers. The time Kimberli had spent with him was now a thing of the past, and she could get on with her life. Yes, the baby would be arriving, but Stan had informed her through her attorney that he did not wish to have any contact with the baby, that he was busy building a new life for himself in Florida.

* * * * *

With the deaths of Richard Aramas and Leonard Wright, Sheriff Bill Clanin, his daughter Kimberli, and future son-in-law Matt Davis could breath easier--and focus on Kimberli and Matt's wedding.

In many ways, Kimberli was happy to be free from her work at the rescue mission in Silver City. She'd known it was not a safe place for her to work, what with the consistent crime in the area, yet she'd felt it necessary to do the best she could for her clients. Soon she'd be in the care of the one man who'd done so much for her. She'd be safe in his care--as he would be in her care. Life could now move forward for both of them.

Kimberli did not want a large church wedding. In fact, what she wanted was a small, private wedding ceremony held in the mountains both she and Matt loved. Matt was quick to tell her that if that was what she wanted, that's what they'd have. And for a honeymoon, Kimberli said she was going to pray for a major snowstorm, so she and Matt could simply spend time together in their cabin--isolated from the world. After all, it had been a major snowstorm that had brought the two of them together.

It did not, however, snow on their wedding day, and while it was a small wedding in the mountains near Matt's cabin as Kimberli wished for, the church Dave Lee pastored later held a reception for the couple. Both Matt and Kimberli enjoyed that reception and the expressions of love that were spoken by the congregation. Perhaps now Matt would feel welcome at the church and become involved in the various church-related activities with Kimberli.

* * * * *

Indeed, although Matt's remote cabin had been intended as a place of escape from the world, a place of solitude for him, it now had become a place of joy for two people, Kimberli and Matt Davis, a retreat to which both brought enduring love--for each other. Soon there would be a baby to brighten up the cabin even more.

The End

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