The Forest Ranger's Rescue. Leigh Bale

the situation to get out of hand, but neither would he let down his guard until he had evidence to convict Frank.

      Brent had already contacted the US Attorney’s office on Alan’s behalf. They were now working together to set up a sting operation to catch the guilty party. Unfortunately, Brent couldn’t tell Jill all of that. And neither could Alan. If he talked with anyone about the case, including his family, the deal with the US Attorney’s office was void. They couldn’t take the risk of letting others in on the plan as it might jeopardize them snagging Frank and his band of thieves. It was that simple and that serious. So they must wait on the LEI’s investigation.

      And it was unfortunate for him that he’d lost Jill’s trust by denying her any more information. He’d wanted to put her at ease and keep her as a friend. Brent had been thinking of tracking her down and asking if she might help him with Evie. All he knew was that Jill was trained in special education and Evie had responded to her like no one else.

      Under the circumstances, that plan seemed futile now. No doubt Jill wouldn’t take kindly to him asking her to work with his little girl. After all, he was the evil forest ranger. For most loggers, being the ranger was a similitude for being the Big Bad Wolf.

      The enemy. Someone they could never trust.

      Heaving a disgruntled sigh, Brent stood and walked down the dingy hallway to the watercooler. The modest offices of this forest district weren’t fancy, but it was Brent’s first ranger assignment. There were fewer than four hundred rangers nationwide, so it was an honor to get this job. Previously, he’d been a fire specialist at another national forest in Montana. He loved it here in Idaho and wanted so much to succeed. And he didn’t want to alienate the pretty sawmill owner in the process.

      The spout gurgled as he filled a plastic cup with clear liquid and downed it in three quick gulps. The cup made a low popping sound as he crumpled it in his hand and tossed it into the garbage can. Two points.

      He didn’t dare ask for Jill’s assistance, but he had to help Evie somehow. He couldn’t lose her to the silent world she’d built around herself. She had a right to lead a normal, happy life like other kids her age. To grow up feeling secure. He’d tried everything he could think of and it hadn’t been enough. But he’d never quit on his child. Never give up hope.

      Sauntering back to his office, he closed his door, wanting no interruptions while he considered what he should do. Sitting in his high-backed faux-leather chair, he ignored the creaking hinges as he leaned back and crossed his legs. He picked up a file of pictures his timber assistant had taken of the area where hundreds of ponderosa pine had been cut illegally.

      The thieves had to be removing the timber at night, when no one would see their crime. Big trucks like that would be noticed coming down off the mountain during the daytime. But at night, the darkness would help conceal the theft. The work would require accomplices. Several people working together to cut, load and drive the stolen logs down to the mill for processing. Alan claimed he didn’t know who Frank’s conspirators were. That he hadn’t participated in the actual theft and he was never at the sawmill when Frank was processing the stolen timber.

      For Jill and her mother’s sake, Brent hoped that was true.

      Closing the file, he thought about the LEI investigator coming into town next week. Jill wouldn’t like it, but Brent had to consider the possibility that Alan Russell had been in on the crime from the beginning, but had gotten cold feet and reported the theft. Brent had seen this happen before. It was the most logical explanation. Frank Casewell would have too much trouble processing raw timber without working with someone on the inside. He needed the use of a mill. And who was more likely to have access and motive than one of the owners of Russell Sawmill?

      Brent’s gaze swerved to the picture of Evie and her mom. He’d considered asking Jill out. On a real date. The first since before he’d married his wife. But that was no longer a possibility. Not after his jarring conversation with her this morning. Not as long as he posed any kind of threat to her brother.

      Earlier that day, Brent had felt an inkling of hope for Evie. The first in over a year. Like God had finally answered his prayers and sent him someone to help his child. But now, that hope was dashed and all Brent felt was frustrated despair.

       Chapter Three

      “Ida, can you get me the rest of the receivables, please?” Jill called to the front-office manager as she closed yet another file of invoices.

      Sitting inside the shabby office at Russell Sawmill, Jill glanced up at the rustic accommodations. A main reception room with a front counter built by her father over twenty years earlier partitioned several old, metal flight desks where the clerical staff performed their daily work. Ida and another clerk occupied this domain, with Jill sitting in the far back corner. Alan had moved into Dad’s office. Frank Casewell, the new mill manager Alan had hired shortly after Dad’s death, inhabited the second office. The building also included a large conference room with a long, scarred table for meetings.

      Sunlight fought its way through the coating of grime and sawdust on the windows. Jill made a mental note to clean them tomorrow morning. The threadbare carpet needed to be replaced, too. It was a pity Alan hadn’t renovated the office when he’d decided to spend two million dollars buying new technology for the mill.

      And that was another problem. Alan had over-extended them in debt.

      Ida handed Jill several files of invoices, her brows furrowed with concern. At the age of forty-seven, Ida was a proficient worker who had been at the mill for over fifteen years. She knew the accounts receivable like the back of her hand. The payables, too. And the latest OSHA regulations from the US Department of Labor.

      “We’re too far in debt, aren’t we?” the matronly woman whispered low, for Jill’s ears alone. She cast a surreptitious glance over her plump shoulder at Karen, the pretty part-time clerk, who was busy answering phones.

      “I’m afraid so.” It did no good to pretend. Not with Ida. She was smart and capable and had long ago proven she could keep a confidence.

      Jill released a pensive sigh and pasted a smile on her face. “But we’ve been through rougher times than this.”

      At least, Jill thought they had.

      “I don’t know when,” Ida said.

      Jill’s heart plunged. That wasn’t what she wanted to hear right now. Especially from someone she trusted. Having her fears voiced out loud made her entire body quake.

      Ida patted Jill’s shoulder with reassurance. “Don’t worry. We’ll get through this.”

      That helped a teensy bit, but Jill hoped Ida was right. Until he’d died of a heart attack, Dad had always shielded his family from the careworn worries of the mill. Jill didn’t want to alarm her mother or the mill employees, for fear more gossip might spread. In this rotten economy, everyone naturally assumed the mill was struggling, but Jill didn’t want to confirm their doubts.

      Jill rifled through a packet of overdue invoices. New flexible band saws, conveyors, scanners, lasers and even a bar-coding system to track inventory. Great for output, but very expensive. The mill was bringing in just enough to meet both the payroll and their monthly bills. They sure didn’t need a timber theft accusation to top everything off.

      Two huge logging trucks lumbered past the windows. Jill whipped her head around to look. From her vantage point, she saw Alan pop up from his desk and saunter out to the front reception area.

      “It’s sure good to have you back, sis.” He leaned against the doorjamb and smiled, a jagged thatch of hair falling across his high forehead.

      Jill’s heart squeezed. No matter how old or tall he got, Alan was still her kid brother and she loved him so much. “It’s good to be home.”

      And she meant it. It felt good to help in some small way.

      “A new load just came