A Cache of Trouble: A Cassidy Callahan Novel. Kelly Rysten

When the crying finally eased he still held me close.

      “Okay, that’s better. Now, think of something more positive to talk about. If you can’t think of anything then tell me a story. I love to hear you talk about what you did as a kid.”

      “You do?”

      “Yeah.”

      I thought for a minute. Nothing was coming to mind. I needed a little more calm. I waited for it, afraid the bad memory would show up first. Calm. Cass, think of a story, any silly little story. Finally, I said, “Remember the wood where I pinned down Peccati?”

      “Yeah.”

      “I used to track foxes in that wood. One day I tracked a fox and she led me to a den there. I came back later when the mother wasn’t there and she had three kits in the den. I was laying at the front of the den watching the kits. They would toddle up to the front and see me and fall over themselves trying to get to the back again. They were so cute, I wanted to hold one but I knew better than to try. They got scared and started a racket and the mother fox surprised me. She was afraid of me too, but in one big burst of bravery she rushed forward. I was still on my hands and knees and she rushed in right at my face. I thought I was going to lose my nose.”

      “Did she bite you?”

      “No, but it’s just because I was quick and she was scared. She was a terror! That’s when I learned to stay back from baby animals.”

      He laughed, the sound of it easing the sadness.

      “I wish I could see a baby fox.”

      “If we go the ranch at the right time of year I’ll show you the den. Maybe that fox’s grandkits are using it now.”

      “How old were you when that happened?”

      “Oh, I’m guessing thirteen or fourteen. Foxes are not the easiest animals to track so I had some experience by then.”

      “What age do you think would have given you the experience to find Kelly?”

      “Do you mean, just follow his trail? Or do you mean, complete the track the way it really happened?”

      “Either.”

      “Well, I could have followed his trail by the time I was fifteen. He was hiding his tracks and that part would have given me trouble. As far as doing the whole trail, dealing with the bear and Peccati’s men, I would have died without my Marines training. The bear would have got me. And when Peccati’s men were after me I wouldn’t have shot back and so they would have brought me in.”

      “I’m sorry, Cass, I didn’t mean to bring up those memories again. I was just wondering how young you were when you had learned enough to be a real tracker.”

      “It’s okay. You just proved to me that what you said was right. The memories fade. I don’t even think of that as a bad experience anymore. There are parts of it I laugh at now.”

      “You ready to go home?”

      “No.” I stood reluctantly and offered him a hand up. We walked back to base camp. “What made you come up here?” I asked.

      “Strict called.”

      “What did he tell you?”

      “Not much, then when I got here he was busy so he just handed me your report.”

      “Guess I need to think about who might be reading my reports.”

      “Cass, why did you go on such a dangerous call? Did you know what you were walking into?”

      “Yeah, once I got up here, I knew it wasn’t a lost hiker. Strict sent the normal team, Rosco, Victor and Landon. I wondered about the search at that point. Three EMTs? It seemed excessive. When the four officers joined us I knew. And when Jacobsen introduced himself as my senior partner I knew I could be in for some police work.”

      “And you went anyway.”

      As we were walking back the helicopter took off again. Base camp was buzzing but the tension had eased. Strict noted our presence and walked over. He looked me up and down. He reminded me of a combination between a drill sergeant and my grandfather. He was in uniform so more of the drill sergeant showed through. I had trouble settling on a name for him. To most of the guys he was Strict, short for Strickland and a reflection of the drill sergeant half. With me he leaned more towards the grandfather side and when he did he was Lou. When he was on the job and all business he was Strict.

      Lou asked, “You okay?”

      “Will you remember what I told you?” I replied.

      He nodded.

      “Then I’m okay.”

      That day bothered me for weeks afterward. I relived the incident night after night in my dreams. Sometimes my mind would play tricks on me and I’d find myself involved in a capture gone bad. It hurt to see the worry in Rusty’s eyes as night after night I woke up shaking either with sadness or fear. I wondered if he had called Strict, because I didn’t get a call to go out on a search for over a week. Part of me said that tourist season hadn’t really started yet, that a week was nothing unusual this time of year. The other part of me said Strict was giving me time to heal.

      I spent the time doing happier things. I talked to Rhonda about being in the wedding. She was surprised that I would ask her because we didn’t know each other well. I explained how I really didn’t know any women in the area and I only had one sister. I also pointed out that Kelly was most likely going to be best man so she wouldn’t be sitting with him anyway. She agreed to it, so we pored over a bridal magazine for hours and marked a few pages of dresses that we both agreed would work for her. Then I emailed Jesse and asked her to go buy a magazine and choose one of the dresses that she liked.

      I looked at wedding invitations, but I couldn’t buy any until I had a wedding date. They all looked too stiff and formal. In fact the whole wedding felt stiff and formal. I didn’t want it to feel that way. To me the wedding should feel like a natural extension to the relationship Rusty and I already had. We had grown closer so naturally and comfortably that I wanted our wedding to be the same, but I knew it was also a show of sorts. It had to be what people expected it to be. All the wedding invitations I saw had flowers and diamonds and lots of white. I wanted something more personal.

      One day I sat down with paper and watercolor pencils and just started drawing. It was a simple landscape with pine trees and mist and a trail. I liked the effect so I then used real watercolor paper and tried again, more carefully, drawing pine trees and a few aspens and leaving the background in mist. I widened the trail and drew two sets of footprints that came together. I also used water to soften the lines and fill in open places with a little color. Then I wet down the misty center of the picture, where the words would go, to give it some texture and character and make the words easier to read once I added them on the computer. I left the painting on Rusty’s desk to dry and checked my email. Glancing down my list of messages one in particular caught my eye. Oh yay, I thought, Jesse chose a dress!

      “Hey Cass! Please choose page 75. I went to a bridal shop and tried on page 75. Mom agrees, rule 642 applies. Let me know. Love ya, your sis.”

      Rule 642 was in the Shopper’s Law. It said that, if you found a dress that was perfect for you, and somebody pointed that out, you had to buy it. Mom and Jesse adhered strictly to the Shopper’s Law. I tended to bend the rule a little bit. My version said that you only had to buy the dress if you were intentionally looking for it. If you accidentally stumbled on it you were exempt. I called Rhonda and arranged a shopping day

      After dinner I went upstairs to see what Rusty was working on. He held up the painting I’d completed earlier.

      “Did you do this?” he asked.

      “I was just putting ideas down on paper. All the wedding invitations I find are so general. I was hoping for something that was more personal. I think that’s too simplistic, though. I should ask a real artist to do one for me.”

      “No,