DANCES WITH RATTLESNAKES

By: Kenda

 

      Author's Note: This story contains some violence and the occasional use of strong language; therefore 'Dances' is considered an intense drama. Doctor Marybeth Lambe assisted with many medical questions for which I'm eternally grateful. Any mistakes made in the final translation of facts from Marybeth are solely the author's.

 

     Extensive research brought me to the conclusion that to accurately and respectfully portray the language and customs of any particular Indian tribe is quite an undertaking. Therefore, any references to Johnny's heritage are purely fictional.

Prologue

March, 1978

        The man stared out the driver's side window of his Oldsmobile, watching as the first wave of children poured out of the schoolyard gates. The kids that made up the initial three-thirty flee to freedom didn't interest him. But then they never had. To begin with, the majority of them were boys. Boys didn't ignite the fire that burned out of control somewhere deep in his soul. After all, it wasn't like he was some kind of faggot. The few girls that were interspersed amongst the boys didn't make his groin twitch either. He could tell just by looking at them they were tomboys. Little girls who were rushing home to grab baseball mitts before joining their male counterparts in a sandlot game. He'd learned the hard way that tomboys were nothing but trouble. Too feisty, too sure of themselves, too apt to fight, kick, bite, and scream. They weren't worth the effort when there were so many sweet, mild mannered dainty little girls available for the taking.

        The man shifted in his seat. His six and a half foot, three hundred pound frame made the car too small to be comfortable. But comfort wasn't an option when being inconspicuous was a must. The Oldsmobile was a popular car right now, brown its top selling color. He blended right in with all the other parents waiting outside the Sun Grove Elementary School.

        It was late March in Arizona, but already felt like mid-July to this drifter who had been born and raised in the flatlands of Illinois. He reached over and turned the car's air conditioner up another notch. His eyes followed a group of little girls who passed by on the sidewalk right outside the passenger door.

        Too young. The oldest one in the bunch can't be more than six. They're no fun when they're that little. They don't understand what's going on. What's ultimately going to happen to them. No matter how badly they're hurting, they still think I'm going to return them to their mamas.

        The two girls who passed by next were estimated to be thirteen.

        Too old.

        He didn't like them a day over twelve. If he wanted pubic hair and breasts he could pay a prostitute for a night of fun. Many years ago he'd come to the conclusion that the age range between eight and eleven was perfect. Prepubescent as it was called. Prepubescent. He liked that word. It described what he was looking for to a T. Still young enough to have a little girl's body, but old enough to understand what he was doing to them. Old enough to sense what he planned for them, but not old enough to know why. Old enough to try to escape, but young enough to be caught time and time again until eventually, like a cat with a tortured and terrified mouse, he lost interest in his play toy and killed it.

        He felt himself harden as he caught a glimpse of the little blond girl in the review mirror. She was walking by herself, carrying a Bionic Woman lunch box in one hand and a library book in another.

        Perfect. Oh, God, she's beautiful. Like an angel. A sweet little angel and not more than nine years old I'll bet. So tiny. So petite. Oh, Lord, but she'll make sitting in the hot sun half the afternoon pay off.

        He put his car in gear and slowly followed the girl as she turned a corner. He was in no hurry. He'd done this so many times over the past thirteen years that he never made a mistake. It was a lot like fishing. You just had to be patient and toss out your bait when the time was right.

        Evan Crammer looked down at the seat. The Hershey Bar was there, along with a Three Musketeers. She was bound to like one or the other. The chloroform, ropes, blind fold, and duct tape were hidden in the glove compartment, the knife was under the driver's seat. After all, there was no need to scare her. At least not yet. There'd be plenty of time for that later.

        As Evan pulled the car over to the sidewalk he reached for the candy bars. He put the vehicle in park and climbed out. He'd never thought of it before, but today was his anniversary. Thirteen years ago on this date he'd killed his first victim. Her name had been Kathy Swanson. She was eight years old. A beautiful little girl with blond hair and blue eyes. An angel. His first angel.

        Evan finger combed his sandy brown bangs then straightened the tie on his navy blue uniform shirt. He reached into the back seat for the policeman's cap and billy club. He slid the club into the leather loop attached to his belt before setting the cap on his head with military precision. He walked away from the car, willing his voice not to crack with excitement as he stepped on the sidewalk and called, "Little girl! Sweetheart, wait up there a minute, please. I need to talk to you!"

        Heather Gaines smiled when she saw the policeman walking towards her with a candy bar in his hand. He must be one of the patrol officers she'd learned about in school whom the teachers referred to as Officer Friendly. One of the Officer Friendly's had even visited her second grade classroom the previous year. He'd passed candy out to the children that day, too. Heather liked candy. Especially Hershey Bars. She willingly followed the man to his car, never realizing the error of her ways until a chloroform soaked rag was pressed against her small face.
        
        

Chapter 1

        Roy DeSoto plopped his weary body down on the bench in front of his locker. Station 51's A-shift was coming off a straight three day tour of duty. Roy didn't think he and Johnny had quit running to the squad that entire time. The only benefit Roy could see as he slipped his shoes from his aching feet was that it was four o'clock on Thursday afternoon and none of the A-shift had to report back to the station until eight on Tuesday morning.

        Johnny trudged into the locker room, pulling his uniform shirt from beneath the waistband of his pants. He was the only man Roy knew of who was thin enough to do that so effortlessly without unbuckling his belt first.

        "Man, these three day shifts are killers," Johnny groaned as he opened his locker and pulled out a pair of jeans and a short sleeved polo shirt.

        "I thought you said you were going to like these new rotations the department was trying. You said three days on in exchange for four days off sounded better than sex."

        John blinked and placed a hand on his chest. "I said that?"

        "You sure did."

        "I actually used the phrase, 'better than sex?' "

        "Uh huh."

        "I must have been delirious from lack of sleep."

        Roy stood as he pulled on his Levis. "I thought so at the time."

        "What's better than sex?" Chet asked as he entered the room.

        "Nothing," came Johnny's quick reply. The last thing John needed was Chet being told he'd actually said something like that. He'd be sure to hear about it for the next month.

        The three men talked shop while they changed from their uniforms into their civvies. As the conversation about the last run of the afternoon wore down Roy turned to Johnny.

        "You're still picking the kids up from school tomorrow?"

        "Yep."

        "Okay. Joanne will send their gear with them in the morning then. You sure you want to do this? You don't have to, you know. We don't want to inconvenience you."

        "Roy, you're not inconveniencing me. Besides, I volunteered. I've had the kids every year on your anniversary since Jennifer was three."

        Roy nodded. That was true, but never before had Johnny taken the kids to his place for two and half days with a camping trip thrown in to boot. That first year John had watched Chris and Jennifer he and Roy had been partners just four months. The night consisted of no more than Roy and Joanne going out to a swanky restaurant and a play afterwards. They'd been home by one in the morning, thus relieving Johnny of his babysitting duties. The next year Johnny had convinced Roy to take Joanne away for their anniversary. By then Joanne knew Johnny better and had grown to love him like a brother, while at the same time trusting him with her husband's life. She had no qualms about leaving him alone for the weekend with her children. If anyone had qualms it was Roy, who knew his partner had a penchant for trouble without really looking for it. But the weekend had been wonderful. The house was still standing when Roy and Joanne returned from Carmel, and when it came time for John to go home Chris and Jen clung to his hands while begging him to stay longer. Ever since then Roy's children had celebrated their parent's wedding anniversary with the man they affectionately called Uncle Johnny. Now that Johnny owned a small ranch in the foothills of the San Gabriel mountains that included a barn, corral, four horses, a dog, a cat and five kittens, the kids couldn't spend enough time with him as far as they were concerned.

        "It's a tradition, Roy," John said now as he tucked his maroon shirt into his Wranglers. "The kids and I have been doing this for six years. Chris will be twelve in October. It won't be long before he starts thinking Uncle Johnny's just another washed up old fireman. When that day comes he'll turn his nose up at the thought of spending time with me."

        "Like the rest of us do?" Chet quipped from behind his locker door.

        Johnny didn't waste his breath by tossing his foe a well deserved, "Shut-up, Chet," but Roy could read the words on his face.

        "Chris will never think of you as washed up," Roy told his partner. "Uncle Johnny is 'the coolest' as far as Christopher is concerned."

        Chet didn't allow John to bask in the glow of that remark for long. He shut his locker and tossed his tennis shoes on the bench. He bent and slipped the right one on his foot, then did the same with his left. While he tied the laces he teased, "Hey, Roy, I'd think twice about leaving the kids with Johnny if I was you. You know how accident-prone he is. The guy's a rescue squad call waiting to happen. The last thing you want is Gage's klutziness rubbing off on Chris and Jen."
        
        "I'll have you know I haven't suffered from so much as a splinter in the last year," Johnny tossed back at Chet. "No broken bones. No concussions. No bumps, bruises, or burns. Didn't even catch that head cold you guys were passing around in February."

        "He's right, Chet," Roy smiled. "I don't know what gods Johnny's been making shrines to, but evidently he's getting favorable results. As a matter of fact it's getting rather boring being his partner."

        "Yeah, Gage, now that Roy mentions it, you haven't gotten us out of any shifts to make an unscheduled trip to Rampart. Geez, if you were a true friend a guy would think you'd make the effort to come through for us at least once every couple of months like you used to."

        "Sorry, gentleman, but what you have before you is an older, wiser, John Gage who now looks both ways before he crosses the street."

         Chet cocked an eyebrow. "Wiser?"

        Before the man could say anymore John shut his locker door and headed for the exit. "I'll have the kids call you tomorrow night to wish you a happy anniversary. What time are you leaving?"

        "We're not."

        "You're not?"

        "No. We talked about going out of town for the weekend, but then decided a couple of days at home without the kids would be just as relaxing as a couple of days away."

        "Whatever suits your fancy," Johnny shrugged. "I'll bring them home around six on Sunday night."

        "That's fine. Plan to stay for dinner. I'll throw some steaks and burgers on the grill."

        "Sounds good to me. See you Sunday."

        "Yeah. See ya'. And thanks again."

        Johnny's "No problem," was barely heard as he exited the locker room.

        "So Johnny's a good babysitter, huh?" Chet asked after the dark headed man had left.

        "You bet. Always has been, even in his younger and wilder days. The kids love him."

        "I'll have to remember that."
        "Why?"

        Chet put an arm around Roy as they, too, headed out the locker room door.

        "Roy, old buddy, the Phantom doesn't plan to be a bachelor forever. One of these days he's gonna settle down and marry himself a nice, Irish-Catholic girl. And you know what Irish-Catholic girls do best, don't you?"

        Thinking of the Kennedy family Roy guessed, "Produce lots of Irish-Catholic babies?"

        "That's right. And after the little woman and I get to about...oh, say number six, I think Gage will make the perfect nanny, don't you?"

        Roy laughed. "Chet, under normal circumstances Johnny's an outstanding babysitter. However; I have a feeling the Phantom's children just might do the poor guy in."

        "Yep," Chet nodded with an evil grin. "And that's the beauty of it."

        Roy shook his head at his co-worker as they climbed in their respective vehicles. Rush hour traffic didn't bother the blond headed paramedic that evening as much as it usually did. Each time his car came to a standstill his mind drifted to Chet's words, causing him to laugh as he pictured Johnny getting hit by half a dozen water balloons, cream pies, and flour bombs all in rapid succession.

Chapter 2

        Evan sat at the battered desk in his downtown motel room. He studied the map spread out before him. Gold stars, the kind teachers used to mark an outstanding paper, sparkled up at him from points all across America. Kankakee, Illinois. That's where it had all started when he was nineteen years old. That's where he'd abducted and murdered Kathy Swanson. Two other little girls had died in Kankakee before he'd wised up and realized a man with his desires couldn't stay in one area too long. It was right around that time the local press had dubbed him the Kankakee Killer. It was a dumb name, not one worthy of a master like Evan Joseph Crammer, but then he never had met a newspaper reporter with more than half a brain. They sensationalized and fictionalized whatever was necessary just to sell a story. Well, Evan's deeds didn't need to be sensationalized, and they certainly weren't a work of fiction. The newspaper people, and the cops, were so stupid they didn't even realize that the Kankakee Killer had now spread his work far and wide. The gold stars on Evan's map were proof of that. From Michigan to Maine, New Jersey to Florida, Montana to Texas, Alabama to Ohio, there was hardly a state he'd missed. That was his goal. To leave behind at least one victim in all 50 states. No other serial killer before him had accomplished such a deed. But he would. He knew he would, because he was a classic over achiever. Or so his teachers had always told his parents.

        "Evan is so quiet and studious. And he works so hard. Every paper has to be perfect before he'll turn it in."

        Yes, even as far back as the first grade Evan had taken pride in gold stars. He knew that caused his mother some worry as he grew older. He sat back in the rickety wooden chair and recalled conversations he'd overheard her having with his father when he was in high school.

        "I worry about him, Frank. He doesn't have any friends. At least none that he speaks of or ever brings to the house. And he's never been interested in any outside activities. Not sports, not the Boy Scouts, not the youth group at church. All he wants to do is sit up in his room with the door closed and study."

        Evan smiled when he thought of his father's reply.

        "And studying is a bad thing? Come on, Margaret, the boy's a loner because he's an only child. It's normal for only children to entertain themselves, and to excel in school. By nature they're goal oriented individuals. Mark my words Evan will go far in this world. Why it wouldn't surprise me if our son is someday a Nobel Prize recipient."

        Evan looked down at his map, the stars representing so many miles traveled.

        "Yes, Dad, you were right. I did go far."

        Evan's father had been a psychologist long before the profession was popular. Evan knew it was from his father that he inherited his analytical mind, and his ability to emotionally detach himself from his victims. Not that his father hadn't been a good man, or a good provider, but Evan never felt a connection to him. Never felt even the most remote bond. Maybe that was because his father was a workaholic who had very little time for his only child. All Evan knew as a child was that the best way to please his father was by being a good boy who did well in school and caused little grief while at home. He was probably twelve or thirteen when the first urge to hurt a child surfaced. As he matured that urge grew into sexual fantasies until it became the only way he could be satisfied in a sexual manner. Maybe if he'd had a better relationship with his father he could have talked to the man about these unsettling feelings when they first started. But, then again, maybe not. It made little difference now. His father had died eight years ago. Fittingly enough, Evan's mother found her husband slumped over his desk in his study, his face buried in a textbook. Margaret Crammer sold the house in Champaign, Illinois shortly after her husband's death. She'd moved north, to a swanky Chicago suburb in order to live near her sister. Evan hadn't seen his mother in over a year. He supposed he would soon have to make an effort to visit, but that would have to wait a few more months. He wanted to make his way to Oregon and Washington, two states that held no gold stars. But he was getting ahead of himself because California didn't have any stars yet either.

        Evan smiled as he studied the long state. California covered a lot of territory. There would be a lot of little girls between here and the Oregon border. He could add a lot of gold stars to his map.

        The man gave a satisfied sigh as he stood and walked over to his fourth story window. He looked out the grimy glass at the street below.

        How appropriate. I'm in the City Of Angels, seeking an angel.

        What few little girls Evan saw passing on the sidewalk were dark headed and looked to be of Hispanic descent. At one time the hair color of his victims didn't matter to Evan, but he'd become more fickle in recent years.

        No, no. These will never do. An angel has blond hair. Only blond hair. And blue eyes, though green or hazel do well in a pinch. But as the expression goes, gentlemen prefer blonds.

        Evan knew what he was looking for, and also knew he'd never find it in this section of town. But that was okay. He took a room in this seedy hotel where prostitutes brought their clients because he knew he'd barely be noticed by the perpetually hung over clerk who managed the front desk. Nowadays angels weren't found in the downtown section of any city. Angels were found in the suburbs. And that's exactly where Evan was headed on this Friday afternoon.

         But first he had to return to his map. He had to add a star in Arizona. As he licked it and stuck it atop the town of Sun Grove he muttered, "This one is for you, Heather Gaines. You were a good girl. A sweet girl. And now you're one of Evan's angels."
        

Chapter 3

        Tracy Nichols skipped down the sidewalk. She'd stayed after school at Park Lawn Elementary to help her fourth grade teacher, Miss Hendricks, feed the classroom hamsters, bunnies, and guinea pigs and clean their cages. Tracy adored Miss Hendricks and would miss her when the school year ended. It was April twelfth. School would be out for the year in six short weeks.

        The little girl twirled, dancing in the California sunshine. Her long, pale hair splayed out behind her. There was nothing like a Friday afternoon with no homework. Usually she walked to and from school with her best friends, Patty and Sara, but today they'd gone on without her because it was her turn to help Miss Hendricks with the classroom menagerie.

        Tracy left the sidewalk for the soft grass of the neighborhood park. There were swings, a slide, and a merry-go-round at the far end, but right now they were devoid of any occupants. She crossed the desolate baseball diamond where her brother Jeff played his Little League games on Saturday afternoons.

        The little girl saw the man sitting on the bleachers in the distance. She immediately noticed his policeman's uniform. She kept walking without giving him a second thought. As she got close to where he was sitting he smiled and waved. She smiled back and said politely, "Hello, Officer," like her mother had taught her to do.

        Tracy wondered if the man knew her dad. He was a police officer, too. She thought about asking the stranger that, but she was too shy to start up a conversation with an adult she didn't know. Besides, Tracy was hungry and knew her mother would have a snack waiting for her when she reached home.

        The ten year old gave a cry of startled surprise when she was swooped up from behind. At first she thought the big man was teasing her like some of her father's friends on the police force did whenever they stopped by the house.

        He must know my dad and he's goofing around.

        Tracy felt herself being twirled round and round, her feet flying off to the side. She laughed until she felt the man's right hand clamp over her mouth real tight, while his left elbow encircled her arms and pinned them to her sides. His left hand then nestled in the crotch of her blue jeans.

        Tracy didn't like the feeling she was getting in the pit of her stomach. She wasn't sure what the man was doing or why, but she knew it was wrong. You never touched someone like he was touching her. That wasn't right. Her mother had told her so. It didn't matter if the person was your sister, brother, or uncle. They should never touch you where this man was touching her.

        The man began running for a brown car. Tracy felt herself being bumped up and down in time with his frantic steps. His pace caused his grip on her mouth to loosen. Despite the terror that caused her heart to race, Tracy was clear headed enough to take the only advantage she had. She bit the man's palm as hard as she could. She bit him like she was biting into a meaty piece of Kentucky Fried Chicken and then held on for all she was worth. At the same time she flailed her legs back and forth. Without realizing it the heel of her tennis shoe connected solidly with his groin.

        "Ouch! You little bitch! You'll pay for that!"

        Tracy released the man's hand. She screamed the words her daddy had taught her and Jeff to say if they ever found themselves in a situation like this.

        "Help! Help me! Somebody help me! He's a stranger! He's a stranger! He's not my daddy! Help me!"

        Bill Seitz entered the park by the swing set. He was pulling a red wagon that held his sons, five year old Matthew and three year old Casey. At first he thought the struggling girl he saw in the distance was simply an unruly child being dragged home by her father. But then he heard her terror filled screams, and heard his oldest son say, "Daddy, that's Tracy. How come that man is carrying her?"

        Bill worked the night shift at an automobile factory and lived three doors down from the Nichols family. He didn't know Jeff and Tracy well since they were older than his own two boys, but now that Matthew pointed it out to him he realized the struggling little girl was his neighbor. He also realized the man carrying her wasn't her father.

        "Matt, Casey, stay in the wagon! I'll be right back!"

        Bill took off running. "Hey! Hey, you there! Put her down! I said put that child down!"

        Evan looked up. The man racing toward him commanding him to drop Tracy was slim and fast. Evan knew he could never outrun him. His size gave him an advantage in many situations, but a foot race wasn't one of them. His eyes quickly scanned the area as Tracy continued to struggle in his arms. A car was slowing down, its driver evidently curious as to what was going on. And across the street a woman was watching him while hurrying into her house.

        Oh, shit. She's gonna call the cops. I just know she is.

        "Hey, you there! Put her down!"

        Evan gave one last look at the surrounding area before making a final decision. He tossed Tracy aside like one would discard a rag doll and ran the rest of the way to his car. He'd never taken the key out of the ignition. He turned the key and gunned the engine. The tires squealed and the rear end of the Olds fishtailed as he tore into the street. The car careened around a corner before Bill was able to get the license plate number.

        A woman ran from the car that Evan had noticed, while another came from the house across the street. By this time Bill had the hysterical Tracy in his arms.

        "I've called the police," the homeowner said. "Is she all right?"

        Bill held the little girl against his chest and rocked her while keeping one eye on the boys he'd left in the wagon. "I think so. She's scared more than anything."

        "I don't blame her," the driver of the car stated. "That man was trying to kidnap her."

        "I know."

        Before the adults could say anything else a police cruiser roared to the curb. Tracy's father climbed out from behind the wheel. He'd had no idea what to expect when he arrived at the scene, but seeing his daughter crying into the chest of his neighbor had been the farthest thing from his mind.

        As soon as Tracy recognized the policeman she broke free from Bill. She ran to her father with arms spread wide. She felt herself being lifted into the air. She wrapped her arms around her father's neck and cried, "Oh, Daddy, I was so scared. That man was going to hurt me. I know he was. Oh, Daddy, that man was going to hurt me."

        "Shhh, baby, shhh," Jim Nichols comforted as he rocked his child from side to side. "Shhh. He can't hurt you now. You're safe. He can't hurt you now."

No, he couldn't hurt Tracy now. But as Jim Nichols carried his daughter to the unmarked detective's sedan that had just arrived on the scene, his stomach rolled at the thought of whose little girl the man might hurt before he was caught.

Chapter 4

        At the same time Evan Crammer was attempting to abduct Tracy Nichols, John Gage parked the Land Rover to the immediate right of the main gate of Spring Meadows Elementary School. Chris and Jennifer knew to look for him here. Ten minutes later he heard the bell ring that signaled the end of the school day. He wasn't surprised to see that Chris and Jen were amongst the first pupils out of the building.

        Jennifer's standard greeting never failed to bring that familiar Gage grin to John's face.

        "Uncle Johnny! Uncle Johnny!"

        Johnny bent down and hugged the child who was laden with backpack, lunch box and school books. The hug he gave Chris was no less affectionate, but more of a one-armed manly type exchange that befit a boy of eleven when his friends were nearby.

        "Hi, Uncle Johnny."

        "Hey, Chris. How goes it?"

        "Fine. Except for homework. How come teachers always give homework over the weekends?"

        "To keep kids out of trouble I guess."

        Johnny opened the back of the Land Rover and began loading it with the backpacks he'd given the kids this past Christmas, their school books and lunch boxes.

        "Did homework keep you out of trouble when you were a kid, Uncle Johnny?"

        John looked down into the light blue eyes both Jennifer and her brother had inherited from Roy. He winked at his 'best girl.' "Whatta ya' think?"

        "No, probably not," Jen laughed. "Besides, Daddy says you get in more trouble now than me and Chris put together."

        "Oh, he does, does he?"

        "Yep."

        "Well, it looks like I'm gonna have to duke it out with your old man, huh?"

        Chris and Jen laughed at the thought of their father and Uncle Johnny getting into a fist fight. They'd heard their father say many times that Uncle Johnny was the brother he'd never had, and Uncle Johnny had told them the same thing once. That their father was the brother he'd never had. Though they knew the two men had an occasional spat, just like Chris and Jennifer had occasional spats, they also knew their father and Uncle Johnny were best friends.

        Chris sat in the passenger seat next to John while Jen climbed in on the driver's side behind him. When everyone had buckled their seat belts Johnny pulled away from the curb. It would take a little over an hour to reach the ranch with traffic.

        "How about if we drive for a while and then stop for an early supper, guys?"

        Chris's stomach was like that of most eleven year old boys, a bottomless pit. "Great. How about pizza?"

        "Pizza's fine with me." John looked into the rearview mirror. "What about you, Jenny Bean? Is pizza okay?"

        Jennifer smiled at the nickname Johnny had called her from almost the very first day he met her. "Pizza's okay as long as you guys keep the mushrooms on your own side."

        "We can do that," Johnny acknowledged.

        As he pulled onto the freeway Jennifer rolled her window down. She laid her head sideways so strands of her long, honey blond hair could fly out the window as the Land Rover made its way toward Johnny's ranch.

_____________________________

        By eight o'clock that night Johnny and his guests were settled in his house.
After the Land Rover had been unloaded Chris and Jennifer had changed into their 'chore clothes' as they referred to them. They'd helped Johnny feed and water all the animals, then Jennifer climbed into the hay mow to play with the kittens while Chris dug for worms so he and John could fish the next day. When darkness started to fall John announced it was time to go into house. The trio was leaving by horseback right after sunrise in the morning. The trip up the mountain to their favorite camping spot would take three hours. They'd stay through lunchtime on Sunday, then head back down.
        
        Johnny and his guests entered the side door that opened into the utility room. There a dirty rancher, or fireman, could shed his clothes and make use of the sink that sat next to the washer. Or he could enter the hallway, take a sharp left, and be in a small bathroom that included a shower stall. John directed Chris to that shower stall now. Once the bathroom door closed he led Jennifer the opposite way down the hall. They entered the big, homey kitchen that curved into a dining area and great room. John had owned the ranch for three years now, and put any extra money he had into making improvements. The interior of the house had been transformed by Johnny's own hands. Oak hard wood floors had replaced old, worn carpeting. Knotty pine paneling had gone up on the walls in the great room, kitchen and dining area giving a person the feeling he'd walked into a home on a vast Montana spread. Sliding patio doors opened from the dining room onto a deck that faced the back yard and barn. Windows banked the south and west walls of the great room, running from the floor to the ceiling. A stone fireplace made up the east wall. A tan couch, two brown La-z-y Boy recliners, two end tables that held lamps, a TV set and a stereo rounded out the room's decor along with the big multi-colored braided rug that lay in the middle of the floor and a few works of Indian art on the walls.

        Jen walked through the great room with Johnny behind her carrying her backpack. They entered another hallway that contained two big bedrooms and a full bathroom. Johnny would sleep in his bedroom while Jen slept in the one across the hall. Chris would bunk on the floor in Johnny's room. As with the rest of the house, the wood paneled bedrooms had a decidedly western feel to them in both their decor and earth color schemes.

        Like her brother had been, Jennifer was instructed to take a shower and put on her pajamas. She shut the bathroom door and was soon busy doing what Uncle Johnny requested of her. John could hear the water running as he put a pillow and two blankets on the floor for Chris. He returned to the kitchen where the kids had left their schoolbooks on the table. He took a plate from one of the cabinets and placed half a dozen Oreo cookie on it. Chris appeared soon after that with neatly combed wet hair and wearing a pair of pajama bottoms and a blue Los Angeles Dodgers T-shirt just like the one Johnny had on. The blond boy sat down to a snack of cookies and milk. While he ate John said, "You start on that homework when you're done eating. We're not leaving in the morning unless you have it finished."

        "Aw, Uncle Johnny, come on. It's Friday night."

        "Sorry, Sport, but that's the breaks. By the time I get you home on Sunday it'll be six or after. You're not gonna feel like doing homework then, so you
better get it done now."

        "Does Jen have to do hers, too?"

        "Yep. As soon as she's out of the shower I'll get her started on it."

        Even though the idea of doing homework on a Friday night didn't appeal to Christopher DeSoto, at least he had the assurance that his sister would be suffering right along with him.

        Jen padded barefooted through the great room five minutes later dressed in white pajamas adorned with big yellow sunflowers. She handed a brush to the dark haired paramedic.

        "Uncle Johnny, can you get the tangles out of my hair?"

        "Sure, Peanut. Come here."

        John pulled a chair away from the table. Jennifer turned her back to him and leaned against his thigh.

        Peanut was another nickname Johnny had given Jennifer not long after meeting her. But because of that she had a nickname for him in return she faithfully used whenever he referred to her as such.

        "Be careful, Walnut. If you pull on those tangles it'll hurt my head."

With mock indignantly Johnny asked, "In all the years I've done this for you have I ever hurt your head?"

        "No. But there's always a first time."

        The man laughed as he carefully brushed Jennifer's hair until it lay smooth and flat against her back. When he was finished he set the brush on the counter, poured both Jennifer and himself a glass of milk, added more cookies to the plate, and sat at the table with the kids. He supervised homework for the next half hour. In-between that project he reached behind himself and picked up the phone. He dialed Roy's number. His partner answered on the second ring. When Roy heard Johnny's voice he yelled for Joanne to pick up the extension in the master bedroom.

        "So, how goes it?" Roy asked.

        "Fine. Your kids are fed, clean, and doing their homework as we speak."

        "Homework? On a Friday night?"

        "Yep. No homework, no camping trip."

        Joanne's voice came across the line. "Uncle Johnny, you're a miracle worker. I've never been able to get either of those children to crack a book on a Friday night."

        "Guess you just gotta know the secret, Joanne."

        "I guess so. Or own horses and promise a weekend camping trip."
        "That works, too."

        Roy smiled when he heard Chris ask Johnny a question about a math problem, and in return heard Johnny give the boy a few pointers in resolving it.

        "Sorry," John apologized for his attention diversion. "Here, let me have the kids talk to you."

        Johnny handed the phone to Jennifer. She told her parents about her day in school, then replied, "I will," "Okay," and "Huh uh," to a series of instructions that Johnny assumed told her to be good, be careful, and to behave herself.

        Chris got on the phone next. He didn't talk nearly as long about his school day as Jennifer had, but then Johnny didn't expect that he would. He was so much like Roy. You wouldn't exactly call either one of the DeSoto men reserved, but neither you call them outgoing or accuse them of being chatterboxes. Chris, too, gave an, "I will," "Okay," and, "Huh uh," before handing the phone back to Johnny.

        "Anything else?" Johnny questioned both Roy and Joanne.

        "Nope," Roy replied. "Except thanks again for taking them."

        "Yes, thank you, Johnny. Thank you, thank you, thank you. As much as I love my children, each and every year you give Roy and me the best anniversary present a couple could receive."

        "My pleasure. Besides, the great thing about this anniversary gift is that it doesn't cost me any money."

        Joanne laughed, while Johnny pictured Roy rolling his eyes. The paramedic held the phone receiver towards the kids.

        "Okay, guys, one the count of three say goodnight to your folks and wish them a happy anniversary. One, two, three!"

        In perfect unison Roy and Joanne heard Chris, Jennifer and Johnny yell, "Good night, Mom and Dad! Happy Anniversary! Don't do anything Uncle Johnny wouldn't do!"

        Joanne was still laughing when Roy appeared from the living room. He was shaking his head and smiling. "I can only hope our children have no idea what that last statement means."

        "I doubt they do, Mr. DeSoto. I'll tell you, that partner of yours is something else."

        "Don't I know it."

        Roy threw himself belly down onto the king size bed. Joanne rolled onto her side, propped herself up on one elbow, and using her other hand began to massage her husband's back through his shirt.

        "It's hard to believe Johnny's been your partner for over six years now. I don't know where the time has gone. Jennifer was so little when you two started working together she doesn't remember when Uncle Johnny wasn't a part of the family."

        "No, I don't suppose she does," Roy agreed, as his wife began to undress him. "You're right, it is hard to believe that many years have passed."

        "I'll never forget the first time you invited him to dinner. He was so quiet. I thought he was the shyest man I'd ever met."

        "Johnny?" Roy laughed. "Shy?"

        "I know, I know. It didn't take me long to realize the words 'shy' and 'John Gage' don't go together in the same sentence. I suppose he was just trying to get a feel for me before unleashing his true personality."

        "I suppose. God knows that's a personality that should be unleashed slowly and over the course of several weeks."

        Joanne gave her husband's shoulder blade a gentle slap. "Roy Walker DeSoto, hush. You wouldn't know what to do without that crazy partner of yours. He brings out the best in you, and you bring out the best in him."

        "So I've been told before."

        "By whom?"

        "Dixie for one. Kelly Brackett for another."

        "Well, they're right. You two are like brothers. Exchanging sharp words one minute over some silly thing, then going off fishing together the next. I don't know what I'd do without either one of you. My husband and his partner, my third child."

        Roy rolled onto his back. He lifted Joanne from the bed and settled her on top of him. He raised his head, his lips making contacting with hers.

        "That's enough talk about my partner and your third child. Though I'm starting our celebration two days early, allow me to say happy anniversary, Mrs. DeSoto."

        As Roy slipped his hands inside Joanne's shirt she ground her hips against his and moaned, "Two days early is nice. Very nice. And happy anniversary to you, too, Mr. DeSoto. Happy anniver,....."

        Joanne wasn't able to utter any more words as her husband began to make love to her. Without the kids in the house she knew this was going to be one, long passionate weekend like she and Roy hadn't seen since their last anniversary. Right at this very moment, more than ever, she was thankful her husband had a partner as thoughtful as John Gage.

Chapter 5

        God, that little girl had made him furious. Geez, but the bitch pissed him off!

        Evan threw clothes and supplies into a backpack. He had to get away from this god-forsaken city. He had to lie low for a while. Who knew how good of a description the cops got from both the girl and the guy who had come running to her rescue.

Evan tossed a roll of bills on the desk as he flew by the glassy eyed clerk. His brown Oldsmobile was gone. He'd traded it off two hours after his botched kidnapping attempt. Now he was driving a 1971 white Chevy pickup.

It was early on Saturday morning and the streets in this section of the city were deserted. Evan didn't care. Although his groin ached at the thought of the little girl who had gotten away, there'd be more. Yes, there would most certainly be more. Someone was going to pay for what that bitch had done to him. The next little girl was going to know that he, Evan Joseph Crammer, was not a man to be messed with.

        He threw the truck into gear and headed for the distant mountains. He'd camp for a few days, then maybe head up to San Francisco. There were so many weirdoes living there now that it might take days, even weeks, for anyone to notice a missing child.

        Camping. He'd always loved to camp. That was another thing his father never did with him. There had been woods behind the house he'd grown up in, but his father never joined him on his sojourns there. Oh well, he supposed that was all for the best. By the time he was fourteen that's where he was keeping the magazines filled with child pornography. That's where he'd raped his first victim. And then his second, and then his third. He didn't kill those girls though. He'd still been in high school.

        Yes, camping was nice. It brought back a lot of fond memories. It helped him relax. Helped him think. And most of all, it helped him plan.

Chapter 6

        
        At seven o'clock on Saturday morning Johnny, Chris, and Jennifer were headed up a rugged mountain trail behind John's ranch. Johnny's Alaskan Malamute, Chief Joseph, walked along beside his master's horse. Joe, as he was more commonly called, was a majestic dog with white and black fur that people often mistook for a wolf. Johnny laughed at that thought. His gentle Joe wouldn't hurt a fly, let alone a person. He'd received the dog as a birthday gift from Roy, Joanne, and the kids a few months after he'd purchased the ranch. He knew a dog like Joe didn't come cheap. When he'd tried to tell Roy that Roy had waved a hand and gave a brusque, "Don't ask me why, but Joanne and the kids think you're worth it, Junior." Some months later Johnny accidentally found out who really thought he was worth a dog that cost somewhere in the neighborhood of three hundred dollars. He overheard Chet talking to Roy in the fire station locker room.

        "I was out at Gage's this weekend and saw the puppy you and Joanne gave him. Geez, is that a beautiful dog. He must have cost you a fortune, Roy."

        "He didn't come cheap," Roy admitted. "But Johnny mentioned one time that his family always had Malamutes when he was growing up. And you know how isolated it is out where he lives. I just thought he should have a dog. If nothing else someone will think twice about nosing around the place, or trying to break in the house, with Joe there."

        "I suppose. But why didn't you just get a mutt from the pound? Wouldn't have cost you nearly as much, and woulda' given Gage the same results."

        "Probably. But Johnny's always doing things for me. He takes the kids whenever Joanne and I are in a bind and need a babysitter, he's always coming over to help me with some project around the house, and last year when I got hurt in that factory fire Joanne told me he was a God-send. She said she doesn't know how she would have gotten through those first few days when I was in Intensive Care without Johnny at her side. So, since I don't really have the words to tell Johnny how much he means to my family, I figured Joe was the next best way."

        John almost fainted that day when he heard Chet's reply.

        "Yeah, Gage is a good friend. The kinda guy you want by your side when life hands you shit. But if you ever tell him I said that the Phantom will start visiting your locker on a regular basis."

        Roy laughed. "Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me."

        Whatever other words were exchanged between the two Johnny didn't hear. He walked away after that, going to the kitchen and drinking a glass of milk in an effort to get rid of the lump in his throat.

        Johnny and Joe brought up the rear of the procession as he and Roy's children traveled up the mountain. Chris was first, riding atop a big bay gelding named Cheyenne. Jennifer rode in-between her brother and uncle on a small, gentle mare with soulful eyes Johnny had named Niabi, which in the Waupun language meant fawn. Johnny himself rode a deep chestnut gelding with four black socks. He'd named the horse Odakota, meaning friend. Odakota had long ago had his name shortened to Cody by Jennifer, which seemed to suit both the horse and his master just fine.

        "Yuma looked sad when we left him behind this morning," Jennifer commented about the other gelding Johnny owned. "I wish he could have come, too."

        "So do I," Johnny said. He'd originally been planning to use Yuma as a pack animal, but the horse had turned up lame the other day from a stone bruise. John knew the only way for Yuma to heal was to allow him to rest, which meant no long trips carrying bedrolls and saddle bags on his back. "But Yuma's leg is still hurting him so he has to stay behind."

        "I hope Mrs. Gage and her kittens keep him company."

        Johnny rolled his eyes at the name Chet Kelly had given the pregnant cat striped in shades of gray and black who had turned up in the barn one morning this past January.

        "I'm sure Mrs. Gage and her little family will do just that."

        "Uncle Johnny, can I name the kittens before Chris and I leave?"

        "Sure. You can even take one home with you."

        Before Jennifer could voice her excitement over that prospect Chris turned around in the saddle. "Dad will never let her keep it. He doesn't like animals in the house. Besides, they leave hair everywhere and make messes, too."

        "Chris, have I ever told you you're getting to be more and more like your father everyday?"

        "Huh?"

        Johnny smiled at the boy but didn't answer. He spun his right index finger in a circle. "Turn around and keep your eyes on the trail. Remember what I told you about looking behind you when you're on a horse."

        Chris nodded and did as Johnny said. You could be hit in the head by a tree branch if you weren't paying attention to where you were going, or your horse could stumble in a hole and send you tumbling head over heels.

        Other than occasional comments from Jennifer, nothing much was said for the next hour as the trio traveled in a single file line. Johnny knew Chris loved the outdoors. He smiled as he watched the boy take in every leaf, rock and blade of grass, and crane his head to look for every bird he heard chirp. When they'd been riding for an hour and a half they came to a flat spot in the trail. Johnny told the kids to bring their horses to a halt. He climbed off Cody then walked to Jennifer's side. He lifted her from the saddle and set her firmly on the ground.

        "Hey, what's with the cowboy boots, Peanut?" he teased. "My little Indian Princess should be in nothing but moccasins."

        Jen pointed to Johnny's own cowboy boots. "What about you, Walnut? My Wise Old Indian Uncle should be in nothing but moccasins, too."

        Johnny gently tugged on a strand of Jennifer's hair. "Your Wise Old Indian Uncle doesn't want to risk stepping on a snake while wearing nothing but a flimsy piece of deer hide."

        Chris smiled as he looped Cheyenne's reins around a low tree branch. He did the same thing with Niabi's reins, while Johnny secured Cody and Joe snooped around the nearby trees.

        "Chet says you're afraid of snakes, Uncle Johnny."

        "Well, Christopher Roy, like most things where Chet Kelly is concerned, he's full of hot air."

        "I remember when you were bit by that rattler," Chris said. "You didn't look too good the day Dad brought me to see you in the hospital."

        "I suppose I didn't. I wasn't feeling too good, either."

        "So I guess something like that could make anyone afraid of snakes."

        John sat down on a nearby log, though not without checking the surrounding area first. All this talk of snakes was making him a bit more cautious than normal. He held out a canteen of water to Jennifer as she sat down next him. Chris settled in on John's other side.

        "You know, Chris, everyone is afraid of something. Admitting fear doesn't make you less of a man."

        "It doesn't?"

        "No. If being afraid of something simply makes you cautious there's nothing wrong with that, provided you don't let that fear rule your life."

        "You mean like the way you were cautious about looking around for snakes just now before we sat down, but even so that didn't keep you from wanting to go camping?"

        "Yep. Just like that."

        Chris smiled the same teasing smile Roy possessed when he'd trapped John into admitting something he didn't want to. "So I guess Chet's right, huh? You are afraid of snakes."

        Johnny pulled Chris to his side and gently roughhoused with him a long moment. "Chet might be right, but if I ever find out you repeated this conversation to him you will be one sorry kid."

        Chris laughed, then gave Johnny a quick hug under the guise of wrestling hold before pulling away. When he was younger he was as free with his affection as Jennifer, but now that he was almost twelve he knew boys didn't go around hugging people at the drop of a hat. That was okay for girls to do, but not boys. Especially not boys who were in the sixth grade.

        Jennifer passed the canteen to Johnny who handed it to Chris.
        "Uncle Johnny, how come Chet likes to tease you so much?"

        "I don't know. He just does."

        "Daddy says it's 'cause Chet is your friend, but he doesn't know how else to show it."

        "Your dad says that, huh?"

        "Yep. He told me that when I got mad at Chet. It was that time when all of you were at our house and Chet wouldn't leave you alone, and then the other guys from the station started teasing you, too."

        Johnny remembered the incident. It had happened two summers ago. What Chet was teasing him about specifically Johnny could no longer recall, just typical Chet Kelly stuff. The other guys were joining in, having a good laugh at Johnny's expense. But right in the middle of one of Chet's barbs Jennifer stomped over to the man and yelled, "Leave Uncle Johnny alone! You're always mean to him! Now I've had enough of it and I want it to stop!"

        John didn't know who was more shocked at the seven year old's outburst; himself, Roy, Joanne, or Chet. Just as Roy yelled, "Jennifer Lynn!," followed by Joanne's, "Jennifer, I will not tolerate that type of behavior!" the little girl burst into tears and ran for her room. Of course Roy and Joanne were mortified by what she'd done and couldn't apologize enough to the red faced Chet. The other guys thought the whole incident was funny and ribbed Chet to death over it. And even though Johnny had the perfect opportunity to join in the teasing, he didn't. He was too touched by what Jennifer had done.

        While Roy and Joanne attempted to salvage their backyard cookout Johnny slipped off to Jennifer's room unnoticed. There he found the girl lying face down on her bed, crying. He sat beside her, rubbing a hand over her back.

        "Jen, don't cry. Come on, Jenny Bean, it's not that bad."

        The sobbing child turned on her side. She drew her knees up to her stomach. "He made me so mad. I'm never gonna call him 'uncle' again. None of those guys, I don't care what Mommy and Daddy say about it. I'm never gonna call any of them uncle 'cause they're not my uncles. Only you are, Uncle Johnny. Only you."

        "Jennifer, Chet was just teasing me. He does it all the time. Just like Chris teases you."

        "Maybe so. But Chet doesn't know when to stop. He just keeps going, and going, and going."

        Johnny laughed. "Tell me about it, Peanut."

        Jennifer had wiped an arm across her tear streaked face as she rolled to her back. She did her best to sound brave. "Daddy will spank me for what I did, but it doesn't matter."

        "Well, it matters to me. I don't want you to get a spanking for defending my honor. But you know what you did was wrong, don't you?"

        "I...I...yes, I know," Jennifer had whispered in a tiny voice.

        "It's okay to tell someone when they've made you angry, but you can't yell at an adult, Jen. I know your mom and dad have taught you better than that, haven't they?"

        Jennifer gave a reluctant nod.

        "I've got an idea though."

        "You do?"

        "Yep. How about if I take you outside and you apologize to Chet and the rest of the guys. Once that's done I think your mom and dad will calm down. If they're still upset with you after that I'll talk to them."

        "That might work. But I don't really want to go out there. I...I know I shouldn't have done what I did."

        Now that her anger was passing, Johnny knew the girl was embarrassed by her actions.

        "That's the price you pay when you say things you shouldn't, Jenny Bean. But there's only one way to make it right, and that's by apologizing." John picked the girl up off the bed. "Now come on. Let's wash your face, get you a Kleenex, then go outside and get the hard stuff over with. Once all that's done you'll feel better."

        "I'll only feel better if you can promise me Daddy won't spank me."

        Johnny had looked to the open door that day where Roy and Joanne were standing out of Jennifer's line of vision. He raised an inquiring eyebrow at his partner. Roy was still angry with his daughter, but he nodded his head.

        John smiled at the seven year old. "I promise."

        "Wow, Uncle Johnny, are you a wizard or something? Do you really know for certain I won't get a spanking?"

        "Yes, I really know for certain. And yes, it's because I'm a wizard."

        John thought he could hear Joanne stifle her laughter, but he wasn't certain. By the time he stepped into the hallway with Jennifer there was no sign of Roy or his wife.

        Johnny was brought back to the present by Chris nudging his side.

        "Here, Uncle Johnny. Here's the canteen."

        "Oh. Oh, thanks."

        John took a long swallow, then stood. He recapped the canteen and hung it over Cody's saddle horn.

        "Come on, kids, let's go for a short hike to stretch our legs."

        Jennifer walked over to Niabi and took a cloth sack from one of her saddle bags. "Will you help me collect some more leaves and rocks for my science project, Uncle Johnny?"

        "You bet." Johnny held out his hand to the girl while he whistled for Joe. When the dog appeared he said to his charges, "Come on. Let's see what we can find."

_____________________________

        Thirty minutes later the trio were back in their saddles. Jennifer had found some rocks and leaves for her project that were now securely tucked away in her saddlebags. Chris had to complete the same project the year he was in the third grade. Uncle Johnny had helped him, too, and had even come to the school and talked to Chris's class about Native American ways and traditions. Chris's teacher had been so impressed that when she got Jennifer for a student this year one of the first things she asked the little girl was, "Is Mr. Gage still your daddy's partner?"

        When Jennifer said yes Mrs. Byron told her they'd have to be sure to have Mr. Gage come talk to the class like he'd done when Chris was her student.
That event was to take place next Friday, and Jennifer couldn't be more excited.
The boys would be impressed by Uncle Johnny's stories, and the girls would think Uncle Johnny was cute. Jennifer already knew this last part was a given because her father and Uncle Johnny had talked to the class in November about what it was like to be a paramedic.

        Jennifer's hair blew in the gentle breeze as her horse climbed the now steep trail. She knew exactly where they were going. She'd camped here before with her brother, father, and Johnny. There was a flat clearing surrounded by trees on three sides. A fast running wide mountain stream would be to the north of their campsite. They'd put the soda and juice Uncle Johnny had brought along in the stream to keep it cold. Chris and Uncle Johnny would fish there, while Jennifer waded and romped with Joe. The little girl thought of all the fun that was to come as they traveled, and then before she knew it they were making camp.
        While Chris gathered rocks and firewood Johnny and Jennifer unloaded bedrolls and saddlebags. John removed the saddles from the horses next, then led the animals to the stream. He tied them to the same low bushes he always made use of when they camped here. The horses were able to reach the water, while at the same time were afforded shade from the canopy of trees overhead.

        The kids carried juice bottles and six-pack cans of pop to the creek next. They'd camped enough with Uncle Johnny to have the routine memorized. Once their little camp was set up they made quick work of eating some of the sandwiches John had made at six o'clock that morning. After their Oreo cookies were washed down with cans of soda, Johnny and Chris grabbed their fishing poles and the Blue Bonnet container of worms Chris had brought along. Jennifer and Joe trotted along behind the pair. As they settled down to fish Jen sat on a rock and removed her boots and socks. She rolled the legs of her jeans up to her knees, then waded into the cool water. Johnny's dog soon joined her. Jennifer splashed Chief Joseph as he rolled and played. He splashed her back, or so it seemed to the nine year old every time the dog brought his front paws down hard in the water while giving her a joyous bark.

        Johnny kept one eye on Jen and one eye on his bobber. Two hours later Chris and Johnny had a nice collection of fish in Styrofoam bucket filled with water from the stream. John called Jennifer back to dry ground.

        "Look, Jenny Bean. Supper."

        "Mmmm. Fried fish," Jennifer closed her eyes and rubbed her stomach.
"I love it."

        Johnny laughed. "I know you do. And since your brother and I are A-number one fishermen, we won't have to eat peanut butter sandwiches for supper."

        "We'll even have enough fish for breakfast," Chris said. "Did you bring potatoes?"

        "I sure did. We'll bake a few tonight over the fire, and fry a few in the morning. How's that sound, Christopher Roy?"

        "Like my favorite thing to eat in the whole wide world."

        Johnny tousled the boy's hair. "You're nothing but an old mountain man, aren't you."

        "Yep. I'd love to live up here. This is great. It sure beats having neighbors on either side of you. And across the street."

        "You're right. It sure does."

        Chris walked beside Johnny as they headed back to their campsite. Jennifer skipped along a few feet ahead of them, carrying her boots and socks in one hand.

        "Is that why you bought your ranch, Uncle Johnny? So you didn't have to put up with neighbors?"

        "Not really. Or at least I never gave it much thought at the time. I bought the ranch because it reminded me a little bit of the ranch I grew up on in Montana. Only that one is a lot bigger than mine. And besides having horses, my father raises beef cattle, too."

        The kids started asking Johnny questions then about what it was like growing up on a two thousand acre ranch, something they, as children of the Los Angeles suburbs, couldn't begin to imagine. The trio was so engrossed in conversation none of them noticed the man silently watching from the thick cover of the woods. Joe picked up the unfamiliar scent and headed toward the trees, but Johnny called him back. The dog hesitated a brief second, then obeyed when his master called his name a second time.

        The observer's eyes never left the child who was now holding onto John Gage's left hand.

        A blond angel. Oh, Lord, a little blond angel. Maybe Los Angeles really will be my City Of Angels after all.
        

Chapter 7

        About the time John Gage and the Desoto children were making camp was just about when Roy and Joanne were getting out of bed. Joanne didn't know when the last time was she'd slept until noon. She hadn't even done that when she and Roy had gone to Carmel the previous year.

        Joanne kissed her husband's tousled head. He let out a low groan, but didn't move. Not that she could blame him. They'd been quite...active during the night. They'd been married for fourteen years but still acted like honeymooners when given the opportunity. She hoped the passion they felt for each other in every sense that word encompassed never faded with time.

        The petite brunette belted her robe around her naked body, closed the door quietly behind her, and headed down the stairs. Sun streamed in through the windows as Joanne opened the living room draperies, then lifted the shades in the kitchen and breakfast nook. She turned on the thirteen inch television that was tucked beneath a kitchen cabinet. She flipped the channel until she found an old black and white Katharine Hepburn/Spencer Tracy film.

        Ah, perfect for a Saturday afternoon.

        Joanne only half watched the TV as she went about making breakfast. Eggs were scrambled in a bowl, then shredded cheese and diced ham left over from Thursday night's supper were added. By the time Roy appeared in his bathrobe the coffee was finished, the table set, the toast buttered, and the ham and cheese omelet ready to come out of the Teflon frying pan.

        Roy kissed his wife's temple as he reached for the coffee mugs. He filled two with the steaming hot liquid then walked to the table. He helped Joanne finish bringing the food over, then turned the TV around so she could see it as she ate.

        The woman smiled at her husband's consideration. She really didn't care about the movie. She'd seen it a dozen times, if not more. But sometimes having the small things acknowledged by your mate was better than all the diamonds money could buy.

        Like any couple who were a day shy of being married fourteen years and the parents of two children, the conversation soon traveled to Chris and Jennifer.

        "I hope the kids are behaving for Johnny."

        Roy cut into his omelet while taking a sip of coffee. "When have you ever known our kids not to behave for their Uncle Johnny?"

        "Never. But do you think he'd tell us if they didn't?"

        Roy smiled. "Probably not. He'd just handle the problem himself. If there's one thing John Gage hates, it's a tattle tale."

        Joanne thought about her husband's partner for a long minute. As though Roy wasn't fully aware of it, she announced, "Johnny will be thirty-two at the end of August."

        "Yeah. So?"

        "Do you think he'll ever get married?"

        "I don't know. Kinda hard for me to picture, that's for sure. Johnny's not exactly the type to make a long-term commitment."

        "Oh, I think you're wrong about that. Dead wrong."

        Roy raised an eyebrow as he took a bite of toast.

        "John Gage is no stranger to commitment. He might lead you to believe that, he might even want you to believe that, but look at how dedicated he is to his job. And to us. And to our kids. And to any other friend he has. If Johnny says he's going to be somewhere, or do something, then he makes good on those promises. And look how committed he is to his ranch and his animals."

        "Well...yeah, he has matured quite a bit in the last few years. I mean, in some ways he still had a lot of kid in him when I first met him."

        "He still does have a lot of kid in him. And I hope he never loses that quality. That's part of what makes him John Gage. But still...look at how he loves to be with Chris and Jen. He's so good with them. So patient. And he seems to understand what each one of them needs from him as an individual. He doesn't try to lump them together and expect the same reactions from them to any given situation. Usually only a parent attains that kind of skill level with their kids. It makes sense that Johnny and Jennifer get along as well as they do. They're kindred spirits, as my Grandmother Mason would have said. Jen's outgoing and happy-go-lucky just like Johnny."

        "And like my wife," Roy added with a smile.

        "That, too," Joanne acknowledged. "But Chris is far more reserved. Like his father," Joanne gave her husband an affectionate look, "he's a deep thinker who doesn't always reveal how he's feeling. Yet Johnny never pushes him, or expects Chris to be the life of the party like Jen is. Whatever activities he's doing with the kids he makes certain that somehow, they both have their needs met."

        "So where are you going with this conversation?"

        Joanne shrugged as she began to eat her own breakfast. "No where, I guess. Other than to say I think Johnny will make some woman a great husband some day and some little boy or girl a wonderful father. I just hope he doesn't allow that opportunity to pass him by."

        "Jo, whatever Johnny wants out of life Johnny will go after. Believe me, if he wants to get married then someday that will happen. Just don't hold your breath, because I'm not sure John Gage is the marrying kind. The charming, flirtatious bachelor kind, yes. But the marrying kind...well, I have my doubts."

        "Maybe he's afraid."

        "Afraid of what? Women?" Roy laughed. "If there's one thing John Roderick Gage isn't afraid of it's women."

        "No, not women. But...something." Joanne stabbed her fork in the air for emphasis. "I don't know what. I can't put my finger on it. But something. Sometimes...when he looks at us, and sees how happy we are, there's sorrow in his eyes, Roy. A sorrow that says he wants to have what we have, but he's afraid to go out and get it for fear it will be taken away from him."

        "Oh, Joanne, for crying out loud, I think you've been watching too much Donahue. That sounds exactly like the kind of psycho babble Johnny would laugh at."

        "Well, he can laugh all he wants. And so can you. But I think it's true."

        Roy just shook his head at his wife as he finished his breakfast. He started rinsing the dishes and putting them in the dishwasher while Joanne ate. Five minutes later Roy cleared his wife's empty plate from the table. While she drank the rest of her coffee he started the dishwasher cycling, then wiped off the countertops, stove, and table. He was hanging the dishrag and dishtowel back on their rack when he felt his wife's arms wrap around his waist. He turned and kissed her.

        "How about a hot shower?" Joanne offered.

        "Together?"

        "Yes," the woman chuckled. "Together. It's not exactly something we can do when the kids are here."

        "No, not exactly." Roy ran his hands through his wife's hair as he nuzzled her neck. "So what gave you this idea? Hepburn and Tracy?"

        "Well, they are a hot couple, you know."

        "Not as hot as us."

        Joanne took her husband by the hand. She shut the TV off without either her or Roy noticing that a news bulletin had just interrupted the Saturday Afternoon Movie Classic. The story featured another Tracy. Tracy Nichols. The reporter told about her near abduction and showed a police artist's sketch of the man who tried to kidnap her from Hollendale Park. Though Roy and Joanne lived seven miles from the park, they would be familiar with the neighborhood because Chris occasionally played Little League games there.

        "Police are cautioning all parents to keep a close eye on their children. The man was last seen driving away from the park in a brown four door Oldsmobile. At this point the suspect is at large and could be anywhere in the Los Angeles area."

         Perhaps if Roy and Joanne had seen the news flash Roy would have headed up to where Johnny and the kids were camping. But then again, perhaps not. It was not; however, a question that could be pondered since Roy DeSoto and his wife were making love in the shower while the Channel 7 newswoman was cautioning parents to know where their children were on this bright, sunny, Saturday afternoon in the City Of Angels.

 

Chapter 8

        The fish were swimming in their bucket of cold water when Chris, Jennifer and Johnny started out on an afternoon hike. Joe bounded ahead of the campers, already knowing where they were headed.

        The moss covered cave was almost impossible to spot unless you had camped up here as much as John Gage had. He'd discovered it the previous summer when Roy and the kids were with him. Though it wasn't more than five feet high, twenty feet wide, and thirty feet long, the kids were enthralled by it.

        Johnny had held a Pow Wow in it the first day they'd found it. Or at least that's what Chris and Jennifer had called the 'meeting' they had with their dad and Uncle Johnny in the cave that day of discovery. Since then they returned to what Chris and Jen had christened, The Pow Wow Cave, each time they came up here camping.

        Jennifer gathered leaves, roots, and berries as they traveled, but not with the intention of using them for her school project. Chris picked up a large, flat rock along the way and a sturdy stick, knowing exactly what his sister had in mind.

        When they reached the cave Johnny pushed the hanging moss aside. He swept the cavern with his flashlight, then walked all the way through while the kids and Joe waited outside. Jennifer and Chris knew their uncle was making certain no animals or reptiles had taken up residence in the cave since the last time they'd visited. When John was satisfied their haven was unoccupied he allowed children and dog to enter.

        Johnny smiled as he watched the kids sit together on the cave's cool floor and make different colors of paint from the items Jennifer had collected. The first time they'd done this the children had referred to it as war paint. Johnny had corrected them with a shake of his head. "No. Not necessarily."

        "Why?" Chris had asked. "I thought all paint Indians used was called war paint."

        "Only if it's red and black, Chris. And then only amongst certain tribes. Kind of like your school colors."

        Chris nodded his understanding.

        "Now, amongst the Waupun green paint signifies earth. Blue the sky and the waters. Orange friendship. Purple means brothers."

        The kids helped Johnny mix the right colors that day. Even Roy had been fascinated by how his partner could get the brilliant colors he described out of nothing more than a few handfuls of berries, leaves, and roots.

        Chris and Jennifer had enjoyed painting their father's and uncle's faces, then their own. As they sat in a circle in the cave Johnny told them more about the Waupun traditions he'd been taught by his paternal grandfather throughout his childhood. Later, after they'd made their way back to camp, John and Roy bent to wash their faces off in the stream while the kids gathered wood for their supper fire.

        As the two men stood John put a hand on Roy's arm in order to stop his progress toward their campsite.


        "If you don't want me to tell the kids about my heritage, about the things my grandfather taught me when I was growing up, I won't."

        Puzzlement had been plain to hear in Roy's tone. "Why would I not want you to tell them?"

        "Well...I know some people think Indians are nothing more than believers in the supernatural and spirit world. I don't want you or Joanne to think I'm trying to influence the kids to go against what they're being taught at home."

        "You mean Christianity?"

        "Yeah. Exactly."

        "Johnny, I believe there's room in this world for many beliefs, cultures, and opinions. I want my kids to grow up believing that, too. I also want them to grow up knowing that white Protestants aren't the only people who exist, or have the right to exist. I know you'd never tell the kids anything Joanne and I would disapprove of. I also know you'd never try to influence their beliefs in a way we wouldn't approve of. You have too much respect for us to do that."

        "You're right," Johnny nodded. "I do. Which is why I asked the question I did."

        "Well, you didn't have to. You teach the kids all you want to about Native Americans. Their lives will only be richer for having this opportunity."

        John smiled, grateful that he could share some of what he'd been taught with two children who were genuinely interested in the life he'd lived growing up on and around an Indian Reservation. "Thanks." As he walked with Roy to their camping area that afternoon he added, "And just so you know, I can sing a pretty mean rendition of Jesus Loves Me and can probably still recite a multitude of Bible verses."


        At Roy's startled look Johnny laughed.

        "Yes, my paternal grandfather was an Indian. But my maternal grandmother was most definitely not. She was Baptist. A very white, very Southern Baptist. I loved her as much as I loved my grandfather, but for different reasons of course. If nothing else they both were a big part of helping me learn to live within two very opposite cultures."

        Even after all their years working twenty-four hour shifts together John Gage never ceased to surprise Roy. John chuckled now as he thought back to that day the previous July. Jennifer stopped the movement of her fingers on his sharp cheekbones.

        "Uncle Johnny, don't laugh. You'll ruin my lines."

        "Sorry, Peanut."

        "It's okay, Walnut, just don't let it happen again."

        Jennifer mumbled to herself as she worked. "Green is for Mother Earth. We thank her for the gifts she gives us. Blue is for Father Sky. We praise him for the sunshine and the rain. Orange is for friendship. Our friends are our family and will always be welcome in our lodge. Purple is for brothers. Brothers have a bond that can't be broken. Purple is for uncles, too."

        "Uncles?" John questioned. He'd never taught her that.

        "Yep," Jen nodded. "Since purple is for brothers, and you and Daddy are like brothers, and me and Chris call you Uncle Johnny, then purple must be for uncles, too."

        John smiled at the child's logic. "I guess you're right. I'll have to tell my grandfather that."

        "Your grandfather's still alive, Uncle Johnny?" Chris asked while his sister painted his face. Jen put on every color but purple. Today purple was only for Uncle Johnny.

        "Yes. Mingon is still alive. He was seventy five years old on his last birthday."

        "Mingon means Gray Wolf, right, Uncle Johnny?" Jennifer inquired as her brother now painted her cheekbones.

        "It does."

        "But he has an English name, too, right?"

        "Yep. Roderick Charles Gage. The government made his parents give him an English name, just like they made my grandfather give my father an English name, and then made my father give me one as well."

        "What's your father's name?" Chris asked as he sat down and crossed his legs.

        "English or Indian?"

        "Both."
        
        "His English name is Charles Phillip Gage. He goes by Chad. His Indian name is Chayton, which in the Waupun language means Falcon."

        "Chayton and Charles," Jennifer pondered. "They sound kind of alike."

        "Yes, they do. Which might be why my grandparents chose them, though I really don't know that for a fact."

        "What about you, Uncle Johnny? I know your English name is John Roderick Gage. Do you have an Indian name, too?"

        At that question Johnny's face turned red beneath his war paint. Chris and Jennifer immediately sensed his embarrassment over Chris's question.

        "Come on, Uncle Johnny, tell us," Chris pleaded.

        "Yeah, Uncle Johnny, tell us."

        Johnny looked from one expectant face to the other. It's not that he was ashamed of his Indian name, or that it sounded particularly odd or peculiar. It's just that as soon as he said it he had no doubt the kids would ask him what it meant.

        "Please, Uncle Johnny," Jennifer begged again. "Please tell us. We won't tell anyone else if you don't want us to. We promise."

        "Yeah, we promise," Chris agreed."

        "All right," John reluctantly conceded. "But that's a promise I'm holding both of you to."

        "So what is it?" Chris asked.

        "It's Katori."

        "Katori," the boy said, liking how the name rolled off his tongue. "Katori. I like that. It sounds cool."

        "Yeah," Jennifer nodded. "Ka...tor...i. Katori. Uncle Katori. That's a good name for you."

        "No, no," Johnny laughed. "Uncle Johnny will do just fine."

        "What's Katori mean?"

        John rolled his eyes. "Somehow, Chris, I knew that was going to be your next question." The paramedic took a deep breath. "It's what is known as a myth name, meaning it was derived from an old legend."

        The kids nodded their understanding of the word legend.
        "So what's it mean?" Chris asked again.

        John felt his cheeks burn scarlet as he mumbled, "He Who Dances With Rattlesnakes."

        Chris and Jennifer looked at one another with shock, then laughed until tears rolled down their cheeks and they toppled over sideways.

        The first thing they heard when their laughter died was their uncle's voice giving them a playful, yet stern warning.

        "If either of you so much as breathes a word of this to Chet Kelly I'll have both your scalps."

        The kids started laughing again at this idle threat, but both managed a firm nod of their heads indicating Johnny's secret was safe with them.

        When the Pow Wow broke up an hour later both Chris and Jen were referring to Johnny as He Who Dances With Rattlesnakes. The paramedic wondered how smart it had been to tell them the meaning behind his Indian name. With a sigh of resignation, he also wondered how long they'd manage to keep it to themselves.
        

        

 

Chapter 9

        
        The Kankakee Killer backed farther into the woods when the campers returned. The sun was beginning to set, and he had a strong suspicion they were getting ready to settle in for the night. It would probably be several hours before they went to sleep, but no matter, he could wait. Once the children's uncle was sleeping it would be easy to grab the little girl from her bedroll and dash off into the night. Even if she managed to get off a few screams he'd be long gone with her before the man was able to give chase. The dog. Now he might be a problem. But there wasn't much Evan could do about him. Hopefully the mutt would be a sound sleeper. He seemed gentle enough. But then one never knew about dogs. If nothing else once Evan made it into the thick woods with the girl the dog would have a hard time tracking him. He'd immediately cross the stream and head for the other side. The going would be rough for a few miles, but then he'd come to the old fire lane where his truck was parked. He'd chloroform the kid and take off. He wouldn't worry about tying her up until he got to the main highway.

        Evan's thoughts turned back to Jennifer as he watched her bounce around the campsite. He knew her name now. He'd heard the man the kids called, Uncle Johnny, refer to her as such. The boy, who was no doubt her brother, was Chris. Or Christopher Roy as his uncle sometimes hailed him. But Evan wasn't interested in the man named Johnny or the boy named Christopher Roy. No, he was only interested in the girl. The delicate little girl.

        Soon you'll be my angel, sweetie. One of Evan's angels. I already love you. I love you so much, Jennifer. You are a doll. Just a living doll.
   

     Evan didn't allow himself to think ahead to later that evening when Jennifer would no longer be living. It would get him too excited, and he couldn't afford to get all hot and bothered with those kinds of thoughts now. He had to keep his head in the game. He had to have that little girl.

_____________________________

        Jen looked the other way as Johnny and Chris chopped the heads of seven fish, then gutted and scaled them. This was the only part about camping she didn't like. She felt sorry for the fish, but they sure did taste good after Uncle Johnny fried them with chopped onions and a little bit of garlic salt. The potatoes were already baking over a low flame atop the grill Uncle Johnny had welded a couple years ago from some scrap iron he'd bought. When she knew supper was almost finished Jennifer ran to the stream and pulled out two cold Cokes, one apiece for her uncle and her brother, and an Orange Crush for herself. She ran back to the campsite, handed the guys their drinks, then wrapped her arms around John's waist.

        The paramedic looked down at the girl and smiled. "What's that for, Jenny Bean?"

        Jennifer held up her soda. "You always remember to bring my favorite even though no one else likes it."

        Johnny gave the nine year old's nose a gentle pinch, then swiped at the face paint Jennifer hadn't bothered to remove. But then he and Chris still wore theirs as well.

        "Nothing's too good for my best girl."

        Ten minutes later the campers sat down to a hearty supper. Jennifer ate one piece of fish and one potato, while Chris and Johnny ate two pieces of fish and two potatoes. Joe was fed the remaining potato and fish. By the time supper was over and the campsite put back in order it was growing dark. Johnny added two more logs to the fire as the kids got their jackets from their saddle bags. Although the daytime temperature had reached eighty-three degrees, it was now down to sixty-five. Jen brought Johnny the long sleeved blue chambray work shirt she knew he liked to wear over his short sleeve shirts in place of a jacket when it wasn't too cold out.

        "Thanks, Peanut."

        "You're welcome, He Who Dances With Rattlesnakes."

        John grabbed the child and flipped her upside down, dangling her by her ankles. "What was that? What did you call me?"

        Jennifer squealed as Johnny ran a hand over her ribs. "Johnny. I called you Uncle Johnny. Uncle John Roderick Gage! That's what I called you."

        "That's what I thought," Johnny said as he gently placed the girl back on her feet.

        John slipped the shirt on but left it unbuttoned while the kids put on the denim jackets Joanne had sent along. The three campers settled themselves around the fire, John in the middle with a child on either side of him. Joe plopped down on his belly next to Chris. Jennifer turned her head and asked Johnny to put her hair in two Indian braids. She fished rubber bands out of her jacket pocket and sat perfectly still while he fumbled at braiding her hair with a lack of skill that said he'd never done such a task before. When he was finished Jennifer's braids were lopsided, and strands of hair hung loose from them, but she didn't seem to mind. She turned toward the fire with a smile on her face.

        No one said anything for a long time, each camper lost in their own thoughts as they stared into the fire. Once the sun had completely set and darkness surrounded them, Chris smiled and rubbed his hands together.

        "Time for ghost stories. I go first."

        Neither Johnny or Jennifer protested that. Chris loved ghost stories. It had grown to be a tradition on their camping trips that he was the one who decided when it was time to start them, and he was the one who got the honor of going first.

        As story tellers went, Chris was good. This had come as a surprise to Johnny considering how quiet Chris could be. But like most people, Chris DeSoto had many facets to his personality. He had the ability to scare the living daylights out of his fellow campers with nothing more than the tone of his voice and the intense facial expressions he created to go along with it.

        By the time the boy was finished Jennifer was snuggled as tightly into Johnny's side as she could get. She had her head buried in his shirt and her eyes squeezed shut. When she realized Chris wasn't going to say anything else her face appeared and she heaved a relieved sigh.

        "That was great. I loved it and I hated it."

        John looked down at the girl. "How could you love it and hate it both?"

        "I loved it 'cause it scared me. And I hated it 'cause it scared me, too."

        Johnny smiled. He couldn't blame Jennifer for being scared. Chris's story had been about a man called The Stone Ridge Killer, who snatched nine year old girls out of their beds in the middle of the night. He'd thought of putting a stop to that plot, but he knew Chris was only having fun at his sister's expense like all brothers do on occasion, so as long as Jennifer didn't protest he allowed the boy to continue.

        "Okay, now it's my turn," Jennifer said.

        The blond girl's story was short, and not all that scary, but Johnny listened politely and didn't allow Chris to voice any complaints even though he made a couple of faces at his sister's attempt.

        When Jen was finished Johnny said, "Good job, Jenny Bean."

        "Were you scared?"

        "You bet. So scared that I'm sorry I left my teddy bear back at the ranch."

        "You have a teddy bear, Uncle Johnny?"

        Chris rolled his eyes. "Of course he doesn't have a teddy bear. He was only kidding you." Chris looked at his father's partner. "Now it's your turn, Uncle Johnny. But don't tell us a scary story. Your scary stories are almost as lame as Jennifer's."

        "Hey!" Johnny protested.

        "Hey!" Jennifer echoed.

        "It's true. Me and Dad both say that. But your legends, they're the coolest. Can you tell us one of those?"

        "Yeah, Uncle Johnny. Tell us the story about He Who Dances With Rattlesnakes."

        "All right," Johnny agreed. "Considering our conversation in the Pow Wow Cave today I guess that's an appropriate one."

        As Johnny began to tell the story he almost seemed to transform into an Indian Warrior right before Jennifer's eyes. He still wore his face paint, as did she and Chris. None of them had remembered to wash it off, but Jennifer didn't mind. She wanted to go to sleep wearing it. She could tell Chris was watching Uncle Johnny, too. She wondered if he noticed how dark Uncle Johnny's eyes got when he was concentrating, and how the flames from the fire cast shadows on the sharp planes of his face. It was almost like he wasn't with them anymore. Almost like his mind was somewhere far back in time with his Indian ancestors.

        "When He Who Dances With Rattlesnakes was a boy he had a different name. The name his parents gave him on his name day which was Awanta, or Turtle, in the White Man's language. Awanta was neither a brave boy, nor a boy who was not brave. He was not tall, he was not short. He was not fat, nor was he skinny. He wasn't the smartest boy, nor the dumbest. He was not handsome, nor was he ugly. Awanta had fourteen brothers and sisters. He was the middle child. Number seven. Like everything else about Awanta, he did not stand out even in his own family. Sometimes he felt very lost and alone, even while living in the crowded lodge of his parents. All Awanta really wanted was for someone to notice him. For the people of his tribe to point at him and say, There goes Awanta, the bravest of the brave. The swiftest of the swift. The strongest of the strong. The warrior all boys want to be when they reach manhood.

        "While he was doing his chores, or learning how to hunt, or track, or catch wild stallions, Awanta would often daydream about the great deeds he would someday do. He would dream about how he would stand out amongst his people. About how his name would be spoken of with nothing less than reverence, and whispered in legends long after he'd gone home to The Great Father.

        "One person who did notice Awanta was his little brother Nascha, or Owl, in the tongue of the White Man. Nascha was five summers younger than Awanta, and like most little brothers knew how to make Awanta's blood boil. Nascha often teased Awanta about all the things Awanta hated. He reminded Awanta that he was the middle child. That he was neither brave, nor unbrave. That he was neither fat nor skinny. That he was not tall or short. That he was neither handsome nor ugly. That he was neither smart nor dumb. He just was. He was Awanta, the Indian boy twelve summers old who was rarely missed when he was absent from the cooking fires.

        "Awanta cursed Nascha then, and wished upon him the most horrible thing he could think of. To die by the bite of a shuman, or rattlesnake as you call it today.

        "Awanta walked away from his brother after placing the curse on him. The boy did not regret his words. After all, Nascha would deserve it if he did die from a rattlesnake bite. He was spoiled and selfish, their father's favorite son for reasons Awanta couldn't figure out. But Awanta wasn't a Spirit Man or the son of one. Only the tribe's Spirit Man could put curses on people. Or at least curses that actually worked. So when Nascha first started screaming "Shuman! Shuman! Help me, Awanta! Shuman!," Awanta paid him no notice. He thought his brother was teasing him again. But the screams continued, and as Awanta listened he could hear the terror behind them. He turned around to see a rattlesnake the size of a small tree wrapped around Nascha's leg.

        "Awanta raced to his brother, dust churning under his bare heels. Without thinking of his own safety, he grasped the snake behind its hinged jaws with one hand, and by its powerful tail with another. He pulled, and he tugged, and he yanked until he somehow got it uncoiled from Nascha's leg. The rest of the tribe had been summoned from their lodges and cooking fires by Nascha's screams. By the time they arrived they saw Awanta dancing in circles with the shuman held high above his head. The snake was flailing its tail and trying to buck its head from Awanta's grasp but he never let go. The dancing went on for many long minutes until the snake could fight Awanta no more. The boy gave a whooping cry louder and more powerful than any cry even the strongest warrior in the tribe had ever yelled in the heat of battle. He spun around three more times, then flung the snake so far no one could see where it landed.

        "Awanta collapsed with exhaustion. He thought it only fitting that the tribe would first rush to Nascha to make certain he was unharmed. And he was. Thanks to Awanta the snake hadn't bitten Nascha. Before Awanta knew what was happening the tribes elders were surrounding him. They lifted him to his feet and bowed as though he was The Great Father come to Mother Earth. Then the Spirit Man stepped forward, placed a firm hand on Awanta's head, and announced, "You are Awanta no more. You are now Katori. He Who Dances With Rattlesnakes. You shall be a great man. A Spirit Man and a powerful chief. You shall lead your people for all the rest of your days on Mother Earth."

        Chris and Jennifer never took their eyes off Johnny as his story drew to a close. Nothing was heard but the pop and hiss of the logs in the fire until Jennifer whispered, "What happened, Uncle Johnny? What happened to He Who Dances With Rattlesnakes?"

        "Later, when he grew to be a man, he did as the Spirit Man said he would. He became chief of his tribe and led them with wisdom until he died when he was many summers old. And throughout all those years Katori had Nascha to thank for that wisdom."

        "Nascha?" Chris said. "But he was the pain-in-the-butt little brother."

        "Yes, Chris, he was. But it was from Nascha and his near-brush with death that Katori learned an important lesson he'd carry with him for the rest of his life."

        "What lesson was that?"

        "That you don't have to be the bravest, or the strongest, or the fastest, or the smartest, or the most handsome, to stand out in your tribe. All you have to be is good, and honorable, and decent, and help those who can't help themselves."

        "Like Nascha couldn't help himself when the snake was wrapped around his leg?" Jennifer asked.

        "Yes, Jenny Bean, just like that."

        "But wasn't Katori afraid, Uncle Johnny? Wasn't he afraid the rattlesnake might bite him, or did he somehow know it wouldn't?"

        "He was afraid. Very afraid. And no, he didn't know the snake wouldn't bite him. As a matter of fact he thought it would. After all, he wasn't the bravest, or the fastest, or the smartest. He just was. But he learned that day that he loved his brother with all the love his heart had to hold as it should be with brothers. And he did the most honorable thing a boy, or man, can do."

        "What's that?" Jennifer asked.

        "He put his life at risk in order to save someone else. He was scared, and he knew he might die, but at that moment it didn't matter. All that mattered was saving Nascha. All that mattered was that he was willing to sacrifice his own life so that the life of his brother would not come to an end. And that's the lesson Katori learned at the young age of twelve summers that made him a great leader when he grew to be a man."

        "He Who Dances With Rattlesnakes was very special, wasn't he, Uncle Johnny?"

        "Yes, Jen, I guess he was."

        "You shouldn't be embarrassed to have been named for him. You should be proud."

        Johnny grinned. "You think so, huh? Even though I'm scared to death of rattlesnakes?"

        "Yeah, even so. 'Cause I think when you have to be brave, Katori, you always are. No matter how scared you might be."

        Johnny simply shook his head in amazement at the never-ending devotion of his one-woman fan club. If nothing else he could always count on Jennifer for a little hero worship. He ran a hand over her braids as she snuggled into his side. He swallowed hard as he looked down at her and recalled another little girl who had stolen his heart so long ago now. He briefly thought of what might have been, but chased that thought away. He knew from past experience looking back never produced favorable results. He never looked too far into the future either. Ever since he was twenty years old John Gage pretty much lived for the moment, but the reasons why were his and his alone.

        The paramedic rose on stiff knees. He groaned as he bent and encouraged the tired children to stand, too.

        "Come on, guys, lets get our beds ready and hit the sack. Tomorrow's another day."

        It didn't take long for the campers to unroll the blankets and pillows they'd be sleeping on and under. Johnny directed the children to lay out their beds far enough away from the fire so no one accidentally rolled into it during the night, while still being close enough to feel its warmth. John set up his bed nearest to the fire for safety sake. Jennifer was next to him, with Chris on the outside. Joe was satisfied to remain where he'd been during the story telling sessions. Johnny knew at some point during the night the dog would join them and end up lying next to him.

        The paramedic made certain his charges were well covered. He asked them if they were warm enough and got affirmative responses.

        "If you need anything in the middle of the night just wake me up."

        "We will," the kids promised.

        "And don't get up to use the bathroom without waking me either."
        Jennifer smirked. "Uncle Johnny, there isn't a bathroom up here if you haven't noticed."

        "Okay, then the woods. Don't get up to use the woods without waking me."

        "We know, we know," Chris assured with a yawn. "Dad told us about a hundred times. And Mom told us two hundred." The boy mimicked his mother's voice. "Behave yourselves and do exactly what Uncle Johnny tells you to. Don't go wandering into the woods without him, and if you have to go potty in the middle of the night make sure you wake him up."

        "Sounds like all the important stuff's been covered then." John bent and tousled Chris's hair. "Night, buddy."

        "Good night, He Who Dances With Rattlesnakes."

        John tossed the Chris's blanket over the boy's head. "That's enough out of you, smart mouth." He then turned to say his good night's to Jennifer. She sat up and wrapped her arms around his neck.

        "Good night, Uncle Katori."

        "I shouldn't have told you guys anything about that name."

        "Why? I like it. And the story that goes with it. I'm glad you told us, Uncle Johnny. Really I am."

        "I just hope I don't regret it at some point in the future."

        Jennifer made no reply to Johnny's words because she wasn't exactly certain what he meant. She released him and allowed him to tuck her under her covers. He climbed in-between his own covers next.

        "Hey, guys?" Johnny said as got settled.

        "Yeah?" Two voices responded.

        "Remind me when we brush our teeth in the morning that we've also gotta wash off our face paint."

        "I was hoping you'd forget," Chris said.

        "Me, too," Jennifer echoed.

        "Nope, I won't forget. We'll look pretty silly if we show up at your parent's house with this stuff streaked across our faces."

        Jennifer propped herself up on one elbow and looked into Johnny's brown eyes. "Uncle Johnny, do you really think after all these years that Mom and Dad are surprised by anything you do?"

        Johnny couldn't help but laugh at the girl. He didn't know who she sounded more like right now, Roy or Joanne.

        "No, Jenny Bean, I don't suppose they are."

        "Take it from me, Uncle Johnny, you're right about that one."

        The girl scooted back down under her covers without saying another word. Five minutes later both Jennifer and Chris were sound asleep. Five minutes after that Johnny joined them in dreamland.

        And from the woods Evan Crammer watched and waited.
        

Chapter 10

        
        It was ten minutes after midnight. The campers had been asleep for two hours, and the fire was just now beginning to burn low. Evan rose from his hiding place behind a clump of trees. No one had moved for the past forty-five minutes, indicating to him the man and children were now at their most unaware. There were two things about this situation Evan didn't like. Number one, the dog. Number two, the fact that Jennifer was sleeping in-between her uncle and her brother. His plan would work better if she was lying where Chris was, but there wasn't anything he could do to change that so he'd have to make the best of things.

        Without making a sound Evan reached into his backpack. He took out what he needed, then hoisted the small pack into a nearby tree. No doubt the cops would eventually find it, but that was of little consequence. What was left in it, a couple sandwiches and a can of pop purchased at a gas station vending machine, wouldn't garner them any clues as to his identity. Evan never worried about leaving fingerprints behind because he'd never had his fingerprints taken for any reason. Cops tended to bully people into believing everyone's fingerprints were somehow magically on file. Well, Evan knew better. And because he'd never had his fingerprints taken for any reason, not a single print he left behind would match any identified prints the cops had in their records.

        Evan held two naked hot dogs in one hand, and an eight inch bowie knife in the other. The hot dogs had been a brilliant thought on his part. He'd toss them into the woods on the far side of the campsite, and if he were lucky the dog would go sniff them out. The knife he'd retrieved from his truck once he decided Jennifer had to be his. A gun would have been better. With a gun he could kill the girl's uncle for sure. But if the guy got in his way the knife would work, too. It was sharp as a lean blade of grass, and had a curved end. It could inflict a lot of damage when plunged into the human body by a man as large as Evan.

        Evan scanned the ground until he spotted a small rock. He picked it up, tested its weight in his had for a moment, eyed the campers one last time, then tossed it into the woods opposite of where he was standing and where Johnny and the kids were sleeping.

        Joe's eyes popped open and he lifted his head. Just like Evan had hoped it would be, the dog's attention was drawn to the woods where the rock landed.
When a hot dog landed near the rock the Malamute got up to investigate.

        John Gage wasn't sure what woke him at first. His eyes were still closed as he took in the soft hiss of splitting logs and heard Cody whinny from the vicinity of the stream. He opened his eyes and turned his head to the left. Jennifer and Chris were snuggled under their blankets and sleeping soundly. When Johnny turned his head to the right he noticed Joe was missing.

        It musta have been Joe I heard. I suppose he's taking a little nighttime stroll into the woods.

        Without giving it conscious thought John rested his left arm over his eyes. For years now Roy had wondered how someone could sleep on his back throughout ninety percent of the night, and with this arm thrown over his eyes, yet not end up with two things - a hell of a backache and an arm that was asleep come morning. But Johnny never suffered from either of those afflictions, and for as long as he could remember this had been his favorite position in which to sleep.

        The paramedic fell into a light doze that enabled him to keep an ear out for Joe while still getting some rest. He heard something fall somewhere in the woods, but didn't open his eyes.

        A coon probably knocked a branch out of a tree, John thought as he slipped toward a deeper state of sleep.

        Seeing no signs of the Malamute, Evan crept out of the woods behind the campers' heads. He knew his size offered advantages and disadvantages. At this point the disadvantage was the inability to move silently at a swift pace. He couldn't afford to progress toward Jennifer too quickly. He had to keep his eyes on his size fifteen tennis shoes. A man of his weight could easily announce his presence just by stepping on a twig.

        Evan clutched the wooden handle of the knife in his left fist. If Lady Luck stayed with him he'd scoop up Jennifer with his right arm and take off running without ever having to use the knife.

        Just like Joe's movements had disturbed Johnny's sleep, they'd disturbed Jennifer's, too. At first she didn't know where she was. She felt the hard ground beneath her and thought she heard a horse whinny.

        Uncle Johnny has horses. I must be dreaming I'm at Uncle Johnny's.

The smell of the burning wood from the fire is finally what oriented Jennifer to her surroundings. She opened her eyes and stared up at the stars. The sky was so black and beautiful. It was Uncle Johnny who had taught to her to love the darkness and all the treasures it could reveal, rather than to be afraid of it.

        Jen rolled over on her left side. She could see Uncle Johnny sleeping with his arm resting atop his eyes. Without disturbing the warm cocoon of blankets she was nestled in she squirmed a little closer to him, completely unaware that just five feet away a strange man stood watching her.

        Evan held his breath as Jennifer changed positions. When she didn't lift her head, or call out to her uncle, he assumed she was still asleep and unaware of his presence. Even so, he waited a few seconds to see if she'd settle down. He knew he didn't have time to spare, the dog was bound to return soon. Nonetheless, neither could Evan afford to make a costly mistake due to haste.

        Jen closed her eyes, comforted by the nearness of her father's partner. Even though she wasn't really afraid of the dark, she wouldn't want to camp out alone in the woods like Uncle Johnny sometimes did. Her mind flicked to Chris's ghost story, but she didn't allow herself to dwell on it.

        It was just a stupid old story. Just a story Chris told me on purpose to scare me. Besides, Uncle Johnny's here. He won't let anything happen to me.

        Mere seconds passed between that thought and when Jennifer felt herself being swooped up out of her bedroll. At first she thought she was dreaming, but as she looked into the man's wild eyes she knew he was all too real.

        Before Evan managed to clamp his hand over Jennifer's mouth she got off one loud, healthy, "Uncle Johnny! Uncle Johnny! It's the Stone Ridge Killer! Help me, Uncle Johnny! Help me!"

        Thanks a lot, Chris, was Johnny's thought as his eyes snapped open. He rolled to his left, all set to comfort Jennifer, only to see an empty bedroll.

        "Uncle Johnny! Uncle Joh...!"

        John looked up in time to see a man clamp a beefy hand over Jennifer's mouth. Like Jennifer, Johnny would have thought he was dreaming had he woken from a sound sleep. Fortunately the doze he had fallen into after Joe left the campsite caused his brain to at least be partially alert.

        None of the campers had removed their cowboy boots that night which would turn out to be to everyone's advantage. Johnny jumped to his feet as Jennifer's heels repeatedly connected with her assailant's thighs. Her kicks weren't sharp enough to cause him to release her, but at least they slowed his progress towards the woods.

        "Hey, put her down!" John shouted as he raced after the fleeing man. "Put her down!"

        Not again. Another hero asshole isn't gonna keep me from what I want. From
what I need.

        Evan spun his huge body around to face Johnny. In that split second all Johnny saw was Jennifer's eyes, pale blue orbs wide with terror and begging him to save her. The man had Jennifer crushed against his chest, but she kept on kicking for all she was worth. Johnny never even noticed the man's left hand as he rushed the stranger. All he could think of was getting Jennifer out of his grasp.

        I can't let him get into the woods with her. I'll never find him if he does.

        Chris DeSoto had been the only camper who was sleeping soundly when Jennifer was snatched from her bed. It wasn't until he heard Johnny's second, "Put her down!" that he came fully awake. He sat up, his eyes as wide as Jennifer's as he watched Johnny launch himself at the big man's knees.

        The force of John's weight knocking into him sent Evan sprawling. It was only by a miracle of God that Jennifer wasn't cut with the knife he still carried. Even flat on his back the man still clutched the girl to his chest as though his life depended on getting away with his blond headed prize.

        Johnny grabbed Jennifer's forearms and tugged. Evan's hand had fallen away from her mouth and she was letting out a series of long, loud screams. Johnny was grateful for that. He didn't know if there were any other campers in the area, but if so the child's cries were bound to attract their attention.

        Evan yanked Jennifer back, he and Johnny now engaged in an absurd game of tug of war. It was then that John realized the man had to outweigh him by close to one hundred and fifty pounds. Using all the strength he possessed, he pulled on Jennifer's forearms again, but she still remained in the stranger's grasp. John straddled the big man's chest and gave another yank. He saw the knife being raised and did the only thing he could, put his body between it and Jennifer.

        The paramedic felt the knife slice deep into the biceps muscle of his right arm.

        "You bastard!" he screamed, as the first round of pain hit his brain. "You goddamn bastard! Let her go! Dammit, let her go!"

        It was the blood soaking the blue sleeve of Johnny's that brought Chris out of his horrified trance. He scrambled from his bedroll, ran to Jennifer's side, and joined Johnny in trying to pull her free.

        Chris thought Johnny might have been stabbed again because he heard an agonized cry, but when he looked at John's face all he saw was the fierce determination of a Waupun warrior. Curse words filled the night as Uncle Johnny swore at the man. Chris hadn't ever heard Johnny use language like that before. He bet even his father hadn't heard Johnny cuss like he was cussing now.

        "Let her go, you son of a bitch! Let her go!"

        As the knife was buried in Johnny's right calf he bent down and grabbed Evan's hair. He ignored his own pain to instead begin beating the man's head into the ground. It wasn't easy. Even though Evan Crammer was essentially fighting off three people his size made him a formidable opponent. He rolled and kicked and flailed, trying to return to his feet.

        One of the blows to Crammer's head finally landed hard enough to make him momentarily see stars. His grip on Jennifer loosened slightly. Slightly was all Johnny and Chris needed. Johnny freed the girl and thrust her toward her brother.

        "Run, Chris! Run! Take her and go to the Pow Wow! Go to the Pow Wow!"

        Johnny didn't have to add the word cave for Chris to know what he meant. Later he would realize John left that word out of his sentence on purpose so Jennifer's assailant had no way of tracking them down.

        Chris grabbed Jennifer's hand and fled into the dark woods. Branches scratched his face and tangled in his hair but he never stopped. He pulled his sister along with him, despite the fact her gasping sobs made him want to do nothing more than take her in his arms and comfort her.

        Chris threw the moss back on the Pow Wow Cave and pushed Jennifer inside. He quickly drew the moss back down, knowing the man would never find them if he didn't know the cave existed.

        Please, God, please, Chris prayed. Please don't let him know the Pow Wow Cave is here. Please.

        Chris took Jennifer by the hand again and led her to the very back of the cave. It was pitch black, but he didn't care. He couldn't risk them sitting close to the cave's entrance for fear the man would hear Jennifer's sobs if he passed by.

        The boy sat down and pulled his sister to his chest. He placed one hand on the back of her head. "Sssh. Sssh, Jen. Don't cry. Don't cry. It'll be okay. Everything's okay now. We're safe. We're in the Pow Wow Cave and we're safe. He'll never find us here. He'll never find us."

        Chris didn't think his sister's sobs would ever stop that night. There wasn't much he could do but rock her back and forth while assuring her she was all right. When she finally began to calm down she pulled away from her brother.
She used the sleeve of her denim jacket to wipe at her eyes and nose.

        "I was so scared, Chris. More scared than I've ever been in my whole life. That man...he...."

        Chris embraced his sister again. He didn't know if he'd ever hugged her like this before. Usually he fought with her or ignored her. But tonight he had to be a man. Uncle Johnny was depending on him to keep Jennifer safe.

        "I know, I know," Chris said, shuddering inside at the thought of what that man would have done to Jennifer had he been able to flee without Uncle Johnny catching him. "Just don't think about it. Uncle Johnny will come for us soon. He'll come real soon."

        Jennifer nodded her head. Chris did a good job of keeping his worry from her as he said again in a firm voice, "Uncle Johnny will be here soon."

        Jennifer didn't know that Uncle Johnny had been stabbed. But Chris knew it. He could still see the knife plunging into Uncle Johnny's leg, and still see the blood staining Johnny's shirt. By now the man might have killed Uncle Johnny. But Chris had no way of knowing what was going on, and short of leaving the cave know way of finding out.

        But Uncle Johnny wouldn't want me and Jen to leave the cave. This is where he always told us to come if we were lost or if there was some kind of trouble. He always told us to wait here and he'd come get us. I gotta wait here for him now. I can't take Jen back out in the dark. If that man's walking around he could get her. He could take her and I'd never be able to stop him.
        

Chapter 11

        
        Blood loss and pain were taking their toll on John Gage. Whatever adrenaline rush had aided him in freeing Jennifer left him when he saw the DeSoto children make it safely to the cover of the woods. He lifted Evan's head two more times in an effort to beat the man into unconscious but to no avail.

        Christ! This guy has got the strength of a bull.

        Evan Crammer grabbed John's left wrist and twisted it until he heard the bone snap. The paramedic cried out and released his hold on Crammer's hair.
The big man was furious. More furious than he could ever remember being. For the second time in two days a child had been taken from him.

        Crammer let out a guttural roar as he jumped to his feet. John was bent at the waist, cradling his wrist and seeing nothing but black stars in front of his eyes. He wasn't sure if his hazy vision was due to the pain of the snapped bone or the blood loss, but at that moment he didn't care. He actually prayed he'd pass out. If he were lucky the man would think he was dead and run off into the night.

        But Evan Crammer wasn't about to run off into the night without extracting much needed revenge. He lifted the bowie knife and plunged it into Johnny's back. The paramedic screamed as the knife went in and then came back out. That action was repeated again, causing Johnny to fall to his knees.

        The knife was raised a third time, but John swiveled out of the way. Despite the pain of his broken wrist he clasped his hands together and swung his forearms up as hard as he could. The force of his blow on Evan's wrists caused the knife blade to turn away from Johnny. Jennifer's assailant threw himself on the paramedic. The two men rolled over and over in the dirt, both trying to gain the advantage controlling the knife would give them.

        As they fought Johnny somehow managed to possess the knife for a few brief seconds. He thought he slashed the man's right forearm pretty good a couple times, but he wasn't sure. He did hear the man cry out, but whether that was from pain or anger John didn't know. He was rolled over three more times until he was almost on top of the burning campfire. His chest heaved in an effort to get some much needed air. When he found himself on his back, looking up into slate blue eyes that held no emotions, John Gage knew his life would soon be over.

        Evan straddled Johnny's waist. The paramedic saw the knife raised high in the air, then saw the smile that touched his assailant's lips.

        "That's the last time you'll mess with me, Uncle Johnny," Evan promised.

        The knife was headed straight for John's heart. The paramedic never quit fighting even though he knew he was about to die. He kicked his legs, trying to dislodge Evan from his stomach, but to no avail. Just when Johnny was sure the knife was going to find its mark the big man flew forward with a loud "Ooof!"

        Joe was on Evan in a split second. He grabbed whatever skin he could find and bit the man who had been hurting his master. Like enraged dogs do, Joe shook his head back and forth, tearing the skin open on Evan's back and arms.

        "Damn, dog! Get off me! Get off!"

        Joe didn't give up the fight. Each time Evan tried to rise the ninety pound Malamute would knock him back to the ground. Evan threw his forearms over his face and surveyed the area as best he could. He realized then that Jennifer and Chris were long gone. As much as he wanted that little girl, he couldn't take the time now to look for her. He had to get out of here before the damn dog killed him.

        Joe kept growling and biting even as Evan got to his feet. The bowie knife was lying six feet from Johnny's head. Evan wanted it back, but each time he tried to reach for it Joe would lunge at him.

        The faithful Malamute placed himself between his master and Evan Crammer. Joe shadowed Crammer until the man finally turned and ran. The Malamute gave chase, but only long enough to make sure the stranger was gone. He ran back to Johnny's side and sat down, confused as to why his master didn't sit up and praise him for a job well done.

        Johnny heard Joe growling, but what transpired after that he didn't know. He tried to crane his head and view the action going on behind him, but any movement at all hurt too much. He thought he saw the man run by him with Joe giving chase, but he wasn't sure. He could feel the blood seeping from his wounds. He'd been stabbed at least four times that he could remember. In the right arm, in the right calf, and twice in the back. He knew his wrist was broken, and his collar bone hurt like hell, too. For a moment he thought it was odd that he was so cold. After all, how could a person be cold after the physical exertion he'd just expended? And besides, he was lying right next to the fire. But then John remembered that blood loss and shock causes a patient to complain of being cold.

        But I haven't lost that much blood. I can't. There's no way I can. I've got to get to Chris and Jen. I've got to make sure they're okay and get them home safely. Roy will never forgive me if I don't. Hell, I'll never forgive myself. I've got to get to my feet and head for the cave.

        Johnny wasn't able to stifle a cry as he rolled to his hands and knees. His broken wrist wouldn't support his weight, and he immediately collapsed to his elbows. He took three rapid, shallow breaths, and tried to push himself to his feet. The whole time his mind was repeating, Gotta get to...kids. Gotta get...to Chris and Jen. Gotta keep 'em safe.

        Johnny found he couldn't stand beyond a crouch. He took two shaky steps toward the Pow Wow Cave, then fell to the ground that seemed to spinning in wild circles beneath him. He silently berated himself for his failure to reach Roy's
children as he slowly lost consciousness.

        Had John Gage seen the pool of blood forming next to his injured body he wouldn't have been so hard on himself.

Chapter 12

        Jennifer had fallen into a fitful sleep in her big brother's arms. The minutes crawled by for Chris DeSoto. He managed to lift his arm without disturbing his sister and clicked on the tiny knob that shed a faint green light on the face of his watch. It was now twenty after two in the morning. Chris had been checking his watch every ten minutes since he and Jen had entered the cave. Two hours had passed. If Uncle Johnny were able to come for them he'd have been here by now.

        Chris chewed on his lower lip, unsure of what to do. He hated the thought of going back out into the dark woods, yet what if Johnny needed help? Chris had often heard his dad say that the most important time in any accident victim's life was immediately after the injury occurred. That's when you had to offer first aid. Chris had learned that last year in Boy Scouts, too, when he'd earned his First Aid Badge.

        The boy finally reached a decision.

        I gotta find out if Uncle Johnny needs help. If he's hurt how will I ever tell Dad that I was too scared to come out of a stupid cave?

        Chris gave his sister a gentle shake. "Jennifer? Jen, wake up."

        Though it was impossible to see in the dark cave, Chris could tell his sister
had opened her eyes. He could feel her lashes fluttering against his neck. The little girl whispered a groggy question.

        "Is Uncle Johnny here?"

        "No, he's not. We're going to have to go back to the campsite and look for him."

        "No!" Jennifer's hands clamped on her brother's arms. "No, Chris! We can't! That man! He might still be there! Please, Chris! No!"

        Now it was Chris's turn to clamp his hands onto someone. He grabbed Jennifer by the shoulders and have her a firm shake. "Jen, stop it! Calm down! You've got to listen to me."

        "O...okay."

        Chris could hear the tremor in his sister's voice that indicated she was about to start crying again, but he ignored it.

        "We've been in this cave two hours and Uncle Johnny hasn't come for us yet."

        "Maybe...maybe he went to get help. Maybe he went to call Daddy and the police."

        "No. There's no way he'd leave us here by ourselves. If that's what he was going to do he'd come for us first and take us with him."

        "But..."

        "Jen, you gotta listen to me and you gotta be brave. You can't start crying because I need you to be a big girl."

        "I am a big girl!"

        "I know, I know. But what I mean is, crying isn't gonna do us any good. Or Uncle Johnny either."

        "Uncle Johnny?"

        Though Chris could barely see his sister's face through the darkness, he looked into her eyes as he spoke. "He was hurt, Jen. That man stabbed him with a knife at least twice. His shirt sleeve was covered with blood."

        "Blood," Jennifer swallowed hard so she wouldn't start crying again. That would only make Chris mad. "Lots of it?"

        "Yeah...lots of it. So that's why I think he hasn't come for us. I think he might be hurt real bad."

        "Chris, if that man stabbed Uncle Johnny then Uncle Johnny could be dea...dea..."
        "Don't say it. Don't even think it."

        "But it's true."

        Silence filled the cave for a long moment. When Chris finally spoke again he gave a whispered, "I know."

        The boy was surprised when his sister clambered to her feet. He felt her tug on his hand.

        "Come on. Let's go!"

        "Jen...wait. Not so fast."

        "Come on, Chris, we gotta hurry! Uncle Johnny's hurt. You said so yourself. We gotta help him."

        "I know, but slow down. That man...he might still be out there somewhere."

        Those words were enough to freeze Jennifer in her tracks. The last thing she wanted was to see that man ever again in her whole life. But no matter how scared she was, she couldn't sit in a cave and wait to be rescued if that meant not getting help for Uncle Johnny.

        "Chris, Uncle Johnny was like He Who Dances With Rattlesnakes tonight, so now we have to be like that, too."

        "Huh?"

        "Uncle Johnny wasn't as big as that man, and he wasn't as strong as that man, and he didn't have a knife like that man did, and he musta' been as scared as I was, but he saved me. He saved me, and then he told you to run here and hide, so he saved you, too. He saved both of us. Now we gotta be like our Uncle Katori. We gotta be like He Who Dances With Rattlesnakes, Chris."

        Chris nodded at the truth behind Jennifer's words. He took her by the hand and gave the only instructions he could think of.

        "Don't let go of my hand. Absolutely no talking. Watch where you're walking so you don't trip over anything. Move as quiet as an Indian Scout just like Uncle Johnny taught us. If we see any sign of that man, or hear anything, we turn and run right back here. Got it?"

        Chris almost didn't hear his sister's, "Got it." He knew she was scared. But then so was he. But Jennifer was right. They had to be like He Who Dances With Rattlesnakes. They had to be as brave as Uncle Johnny.

        The blond headed boy made his sister stop when they came to the mouth of the cave. As unobtrusively as he could, he parted two strands of moss. He peered straight ahead, then left, then right. He didn't see anyone, or hear anything, so he crept outside bringing Jennifer with him.

        Chris breathed a sigh of relief when they'd scurried the thirty feet it took them to get to the thick cover of the woods. He knew the path by heart that led them to the Pow Wow Cave. When he'd been running with Jennifer to reach the cave his terror had caused him to veer off the path which explained the cuts and scratches on their arms and faces. But this time Chris planned to travel the path the entire way back to the campsite if possible. It would be a lot faster than zig zagging through the overgrowth of the woods, and a lot quieter, too.

        The children stopped twice during their one mile journey. The first time was because Chris heard a noise that caused him to pull Jennifer into a clump of bushes. They crouched there, barely breathing and with their hearts hammering in their chests, until Chris finally determined he'd heard nothing more than the activity of some nocturnal animal. The second time they stopped was when a hoot owl called above their heads. This time they didn't hide, but both Chris and Jennifer needed a moment to collect their wits after that unexpected scare.

        Joe's ears stood straight up and he gave a low growl when he heard someone approach. When he picked up the scents that were familiar to him the growl turned into a frantic bark.

        "That's Joe!" Jennifer whispered.

        Chris nodded. When they were within twenty feet of the campsite Chris forced his sister off the path. The children crept the rest of the way forward using the overgrown brush as cover. Chris's instincts caused him to clamp a hand over Jennifer's mouth when they got their first glimpse of their father's partner and best friend.

        Even though Chris's hand prevented her from saying anything, Jennifer's mind cried an anguished, Uncle Johnny! when she saw the paramedic lying curled on his side by the low burning fire. She tried to squirm from Chris's grasp.

        "No! Wait!" Chris ordered in a strangled whisper. "Just wait a minute. We
gotta make sure that man isn't around."

        The children watched for signs of Evan Crammer. Joe sat beside his master looking into the woods with a puzzled expression. Jennifer knew the young dog was wondering why they didn't come out and help Uncle Johnny.

        Chris hated himself for doing it, but he allowed five minutes to pass before slowly rising. Jennifer stood with him. She broke free from his grasp and ran for the fallen man.

        "Uncle Johnny! Uncle Johnny!"

        By the time Chris reached the paramedic Jennifer was kneeling beside him. She looked up at her brother with tears in her eyes. "He's all bloody. I don't know what to do. How do we help him?"

        Chris thought that was a good question. Jennifer was right. There was so much blood. The entire right side of John's shirt was soaked red. So was the back of the shirt. His face was splattered with blood as was his neck. Because the jeans Johnny was wearing were faded from many washings Chris could see blood staining the lower portion of his right pant leg as well.

        When John let out a low moan Chris used it to his advantage. "Uncle Johnny? Uncle Johnny?" The boy hated to touch John for fear of inflicting further pain, but he had no choice. He placed a hand right in the center of Johnny's chest, on one of the few spots that didn't contain any blood. He gave the man a gentle shake.

        "Uncle Johnny? Uncle Johnny! Johnny, please, you have to wake up! Me and Jen are here, but you've gotta tell us how to help you!"

        John was so cold. And he hurt so much. He felt his pulse racing and had to bite back a bout of nausea that was urging him to throw up the fish he'd had for dinner. John wasn't sure how many times he'd come to consciousness since the man fled. He wasn't sure how many times he'd tried to get up so he could go to Chris and Jennifer, he just knew that each time he tried to move he ended up passing out.

        "Uncle Johnny! Uncle Johnny, come on! Talk to me! You gotta tell me how to help you!"

        Johnny turned his head enough so he could look straight up. He'd learned from previous experience that lying on his back caused pain so severe it brought tears to his eyes, and also made it nearly impossible for him to breathe.

        John's voice was no more than a dry croak. "Chris?"

        "Yeah, Uncle Johnny, it's me. Jennifer's here, too."

        Johnny's eyes searched for the girl. Chris could see what he was doing so motioned Jennifer to scoot closer. She laid a hand on Johnny's head.

        "I'm here, Uncle Johnny. I'm right here."

        Johnny took in both children. "You guys...o...kay?"

        "We're fine," Chris assured. "Now you gotta tell me how to help you."

        Johnny found it remarkable that he was as lucid as he was considering all he'd been through. Oh, by no means did he want to be a contestant on Jeopardy, but if nothing else he knew what had happened to him. He swallowed what little saliva he had left and focused on Chris. The boy was right. He had to tell Roy's kids how to help him if he was going to live another hour.

        "Get...get the towels...we brought, Chris. An...the sheets. Sheets that are in...bedrolls. Scissors from...First Aid kit in my...saddle bags."

        The children ran off to do as Johnny instructed. Chris rifled through all three sets of saddlebags knowing he'd find the towels his mother had sent for him and Jennifer to use when washing up in the stream, and the towels Uncle Johnny had brought for himself for the same purpose. He also removed the white First Aid kit with the red cross on the front from one of John's saddle bags. He ran back to his uncle carrying the items.

        While Chris was doing that Jennifer had torn apart their beds and pulled out the sheets. She dropped to her knees beside Chris.

        "Okay, Uncle Johnny. We got everything." Chris peered into John's face. The man's eyes were open, but they looked funny. Glazed and glassy like Chris knew a person's eyes look when they have a fever.

        Or when they're in shock, Chris thought, as he recalled his First Aid courses.

        "Uncle Johnny?"

        John's head rolled toward the voice. "Huh?"

        "Me and Jen are back with the stuff you told us to get. The towels and the sheets and the scissors. Now tell me what to do."

        John thought a moment. It was funny, but just a few minutes ago he was so certain of what he needed to tell the kids. Now, for some reason, almost seven years of medical knowledge thanks to his paramedic training seemed to leave him.

        "The towels, Uncle Johnny," Chris prompted. "Did you want me to try to stop the bleeding with them?"

        "Uh...yeah. Good...boy. Fold 'em...fold 'em in fourths."

        Chris quickly did as Johnny instructed.

        "Okay, done."

        "All right." John paused as he reassessed his injuries. He wasn't too concerned about the knife wound to his collarbone. He couldn't feel it bleeding any longer, which at this point was the top priority. But blood was still seeping from the other stab wounds.

        "Take the...scissors, Chris, and cut,...cut the sleeve of my shirt."

        John didn't seem to be able to focus on Chris, so the boy made sure to respond verbally.

        "Okay."

        Jennifer already the First Aid kit open. She handed her brother the scissors.

        John was still lying on his left side, making it easy for Chris to slit the sleeve of his shirt. The boy gasped at the long streak of blood smeared on the bare skin of John's right arm. He moved his body a little, trying to block Jennifer's view.

        "Don't...don't touch my...T-shirt."

        "Shouldn't I cut it away from the wounds?"

        "No. You might...tear a clot."

        Chris wasn't sure what Johnny meant by that, but he bowed to his uncle's wisdom.

        "What next?"

        "Just press...one of the towels...against the wound. Then take scissors...cut sheets into strips...and tie..."

        "Tie the towels in place. Okay, I know what to do now."

        "But..." Johnny's eyes roamed the star-filled sky. "not too tight...Roy. Can't tie...too tight. Don't wanna cut off...circulation complete...completely."

        Having Johnny call him by his father's name scared Chris. He knew that wasn't a good sign, but for now he didn't have the time to worry about it.

        Jennifer had made enough bandages for her dolls out of old sheets to know exactly what Johnny's instructions meant. While her brother held the folded towel against Uncle Johnny's arm she cut strips of cloth wide enough and long enough for Chris to use to secure the towel in place.

        The children continued to work together to save Johnny's life while Joe stood by keeping attentive watch on the surrounding area. Chris cut John's right pant leg from ankle to knee. Just above Johnny's cowboy boot was a deep stab wound like the one he had on his arm. Chris held a towel against it while Jen cut more cloth strips.

        It was when the children came to the two wounds on Johnny's back that Chris was uncertain of what to do. He cut right up the center of John's work shirt, but remembered the paramedics words of caution and didn't try to remove his gray Los Angeles County Fire Department T-shirt. The entire back of the shirt was now red with Johnny's blood. Chris could see blood seeping down John's side and soaking into the ground.

        "Uncle Johnny," Chris hailed. His tone grew louder and more frantic when the paramedic didn't respond. "Uncle Johnny!"

        John's eyes were only half open. They traveled back and forth in lazy rhythm at the sound of Chris's voice.

        "Mmmm? Chris? You...okay? Jen...Jenny!" John lifted his head. He seemed to look right through Jennifer as he called frantically. "Jen! Where are you! Jenny!"

        "I'm right here, Uncle Johnny!" The little girl placed her hands on Johnny's shoulders and urged him back to the ground. "I'm right here. I'm okay."

        "Uncle Johnny, I got the towels ready for your back, but you're gonna have to help me. You're gonna have to sit up so I can tie 'em there."

        John was barely lucid, but managed to nod his head. Though what he was agreeing to he wasn't sure.

        Chris took the four long strips of cloth Jennifer handed him. He figured they'd only have one chance at this and he wanted to get it right the first time.

        "Jen, you go around to Uncle Johnny's left side. When he sits up, I'm gonna scoot these strips over to you. Pull 'em out half way, then leave 'em alone. Once we got them under him I can tie them against his chest."

        "Okay."

        Jennifer scurried around Johnny's feet and dropped to her knees on his left side.

     "Uncle Johnny, we're ready," Chris said. "Can you sit up?"

        Johnny wasn't sure what Chris wanted him to do or why, but when he felt the eleven year old circle his shoulders from behind he remembered something about sitting up.

        John cried out as he raised himself from the ground with Chris's help. He rested his weight on his left elbow and hip as best he could, but knew he was leaning heavily onto the boy.

        Chris hurried to push the cloth strips to Jennifer. The girl dropped on her stomach and pulled them across the ground, doing like her brother said and stopping when she got them to the half-way point. The entire ordeal didn't take more than ten seconds, but it was ten seconds longer than John Gage's body could stand. Chris toppled backwards when all of Johnny's weight slumped against him. For just a second the boy thought John had died and was sure it was all his fault for making Johnny sit up, but then he saw the uneven rise and fall of the paramedic's chest and heaved a sigh of relief.

        With Jennifer's help Chris got Johnny positioned once again like they'd found him, lying on his left side in a semi-fetal position. Jennifer held the towels against the unseen wounds on John's back while Chris tied them in place. He didn't like the way Johnny seemed to be struggling for breath so didn't tie his knots too tight.

        The eleven year old stood and looked around. He knew someone going into shock had to be kept warm and needed to have their feet elevated.

        "Jen, get the blankets from our bedrolls and cover Uncle Johnny with 'em. But be careful. Don't bump into him and be real gentle when you lay the blankets over him."

        "I will be."

        Chris hurried over to the stack of firewood he'd collected earlier in the day. He put two more logs on the fire, and used a stick to prod the flames into action.

        Jennifer was covering Johnny with all the skills of a Rampart nurse when Chris came to help her. They put three blankets on the man. Chris set a smaller one aside for him and Jen to wrap up in together. He ran to where the horses were tied and got two canteens. He looped their straps over his neck, then grabbed one of the saddles from the ground. He hoisted the heavy saddle against his stomach. Chris's gait had an uneven limp to it because of the weight he struggled to haul back to the campfire.

        Jennifer watched with confusion when Chris eased the saddled to the
ground by Johnny's feet.

        "Come on. Help me."

        "What are we doing?"

        "First we're gonna take his boots off, then we're gonna lift his legs and lay his ankles on the seat of the saddle."

        "Why?"

        " 'Cause he's in shock."

        "What's that mean?"

        "It means we gotta help his body do things it's hurt too badly to do by itself right now, like keep him warm and help his blood get to his brain and heart. That's why we have to elevate his feet."

        Jennifer was impressed with her brother's knowledge. She never learned interesting stuff like this in Brownies.

        The girl copied her brother's movements as he bent over. The children tried to be gentle as they tugged Johnny's boots off. Having Jennifer remove the left one didn't seem to disturb him, but when Chris pulled the right one off Johnny moaned in pain.

        I'm sorry, Uncle Johnny. I'm sorry.

Chris ignored his internal distress as he continued to issue instructions to his sister.

        "Now we'll lift his ankles together on the count of three, then I'll slide the saddle underneath them."

        "Okay."

        "Ready?"

        "Yeah."

        "One, two, three."

Johnny let out another quiet moan as his legs were lifted three feet from the ground. He was too out of it to understand why he was being jostled around, or to feel his ankles come to nestle in the curve of a saddle seat.

        Chris tucked the blankets around Johnny's feet. It was as Chris stood to remove the canteens from around his neck that John regained consciousness again.

        "Uncle Johnny, do you want some water?"

        "Juz...a little. Shouldn't...have...much."

        "Why?"

        "In case...sur...gery."

        "Oh."

        Chris uncapped one of the canteens and held it to Johnny's lips. More water dribbled down the paramedic's chin than got in his mouth, but if nothing else it offered the man some relief.

        "Chris?"

        "Yeah?"

        "I'm...I'm having a little trouble...breathing. Can you get...couple pillows?"

Before Chris could answer Jennifer jumped to her feet. She got the pillows she and Chris had brought from home. The same pillows Uncle Johnny had teased them about that night when they'd unrolled their beds.

        "People who camp out under the stars don't sleep on pillows," he'd teased with a big grin.

        "I bet you're happy we brought these pillows now, huh, Uncle Johnny?" Jennifer said as she returned to the paramedic's side.

        John did his best to smile. "Yeah...sweetie. I sure...am." His eyes traveled to Chris. "You put the...pillows...one on top...the other. Then lay them...long ways. I'm gonna sit up...again. When I do...slip 'em...under...my left shoulder."

        "You mean your head?"

        "No. My shoulder. They'll prop me up...some. Maybe...maybe make it easier to breathe. 'Kay?"


        With what little strength he had left Johnny gritted his teeth and raised his body off the ground. He was thankful it took Chris a mere second to get the pillows in place. He practically fell on them when the boy had his hand out of the way.

        Johnny's left shoulder and the side of his face now rested on the pillows. Though they didn't bring remarkable results, he did think he could breathe a little easier now.

        "Uncle Johnny, is there anything else we can do?" Chris asked.

        John pried his eyes open and gazed into two pale faces that shouldn't look nearly this worried or frightened. He gave the kids the best grin he could muster.

"No. Nothing. You did good...Christopher Roy. And you, too,...Jenny Bean. Your dad...your dad will be...so proud of you. Both you."

        "Daddy will be proud of you, too, Uncle Johnny, 'cause you saved my life."

        John's eyes slid closed. The kids could barely understand the words he slurred as he slowly returned to the world of unawareness.

        "Couldn't let anything...happen...to my best girl. Roy...Roy would be... so mad at me. I'd never...forgive...myself."

        Jennifer started to cry quiet tears then. Chris pulled her close and wrapped the remaining blanket around the two of them.

        "Sssh, Jen. Don't cry. Uncle Johnny's tough as they come. I've heard Dad say that a million times. He'll be okay. He'll be fine."

        Jennifer cried herself to sleep during those early morning hours that preceded dawn. Joe stayed on alert, intent on guarding his master and the children he so often played with. Somewhere around four o'clock Chris finally fell into a fitful sleep, allowing his body to sink down to the ground beside his sister's.

        Johnny regained consciousness on and off throughout those long hours. Sometimes he was aware of where he was and what had happened, and sometimes he wasn't. Sometimes he was so hot he thought he was on fire, while other times he was so cold he was certain he must have passed out in a snow bank. Sometimes he was aware of the blood soaking into the towels on his back, and sometimes he just thought it was rainwater that had somehow gotten between his shirt and his skin.

        But despite all those groggy and incoherent thoughts, John Gage was fully aware of one thing. There was little girl he had to protect and get home to her father. He had no intention of telling his partner that Jennifer was dead. He didn't want Roy to have to bury his only daughter. He wouldn't wish that heartbreak on any man. Not even his worse enemy. And most certainly not his closest friend.
        
        

Chapter 13

        
        Evan Crammer sagged against the tailgate of his pickup truck. The eastern sky was painted pale pink and blue with the light from early dawn. His forearms ached like hell from where he'd been slashed with his own knife, and his back and legs stung, too, from where that damn dog had bitten him. If it hadn't been for the dog Evan would have stayed and looked for those kids. The boy he could have killed easily enough the second he found him. The girl he would have taken with him like he had originally planned. But instead he'd been forced to run for his life across the stream with that dog right at his heels. The entire night had been a fiasco. That damn Indian was like a mother grizzly when it came to those kids. He'd fought like a caged tiger even though Evan was a good four inches taller and close to one hundred and fifty pounds heavier.

        "Damn redskin. I should of scalped him. I would have if it hadn't been for his dog. No matter though. He'll be dead before anyone finds him."

        Evan wanted nothing more than to stand under a hot shower and forget Los Angeles existed. But for the time being he had to make due with washing his many cuts and abrasions with cold water from the stream.

        When the man had cleaned himself as best he could he reached beneath the driver's seat for his billy club. With a determined purpose to his stride, he started the rugged trek to the campsite. He ran a hand over the smooth, weighted plastic of his weapon.
        

If that Indian is still alive he won't be by the time I'm through with him. And Jennifer...well one way or another Jennifer will be mine.
        
        

Chapter 14

        Chris and Jennifer woke to the sound of Johnny's screams. For a few seconds Chris thought the man who tried to kidnap Jennifer was back, but when he looked around he saw their campsite was devoid of intruders.

        The boy scrambled to his feet. John's eyes were wide open and he was yelling Jennifer's name.

        "Jennifer! Get away from him! Jenny, get back! Stay away from him! No, don't go with him! Jennifer!"

        "I'm here, Uncle Johnny! I'm here!" Jennifer jumped up and ran to Johnny's side. She pushed on his shoulder, trying to get him to lie down. John twisted away from her as his stomach spasmed. Jennifer's eyes grew wide with shock as he vomited blood into the grass.

        The girl looked at her stunned brother. "What...what's wrong with him, Chris?"

        Chris was no more prepared to handle this turn of events than his sister. He watched as Johnny vomited two more times. The paramedic collapsed on the pillows, his limbs trembling from exertion. Chris didn't think anyone could be as pale as his Uncle Johnny was and not be dead. The tiny gasps the man was making for air left the boy feeling stupid and helpless.

        Not knowing what else to do, Chris picked up one of the canteens. He uncapped it and knelt by Johnny's side.

        "Here, Uncle Johnny. I've got some water for you."

        John felt a hand slip underneath his neck and urge his head up. He took two long sips, then spit the liquid onto the grass. Though Johnny wasn't completely cognizant in regards to what had just happened, he knew better than to swallow the liquid and was simply grateful for the opportunity to rinse his mouth out. He ran his tongue over dry, cracked lips. He focused in on the worried face hovering over him.

        "What can we do, Uncle Johnny? How we can help you?"

        "Don't be...so...upset...Chris. When you frown like...that...you look juz...juz like your...dad. You're...you're doin' fine,...son. Both you and,...Jen. I'm sorry...sorry I'm scaring you...like this."

        "You're not scaring us. You just need to tell me what else we can do for you."
        "Not much...right now." Johnny had to pause in order to wait out a wave of pain that was threatening to make him scream.

        Can't lose it. Can't lose it in front of the kids. Gotta keep it together no matter how much it hurts.

        "Do you want something more to drink?"

        "No, I...shouldn't have...it. Can't...have it."

        Chris could tell the man was thirsty just by looking at his parched lips. Though the boy had to respect Johnny's wisdom in this matter, he thought of a way they might be able to make him a bit more comfortable. Chris turned to his sister.

        "Go get one of the washcloths from your saddlebags that Mom sent along."

        Jennifer ran to retrieve the requested item. For the next thirty minutes the children did the best they could to give John some liquid by running a damp wash cloth over his mouth, and to keep his condition stable by making certain he was well-covered with both his feet and shoulders elevated. Chris cringed each time Johnny coughed. Flecks of blood splattered his lips and chin. Even though the boy didn't know what this meant, he knew it wasn't a good sign. Ten minutes into their ministrations Johnny began to shiver so violently the wounds on his back started bleeding again. His eyes took on a far away look, and he started screaming once again for Jennifer to run while struggling to get off the ground.

        It was all Chris and Jennifer could do to keep Johnny in a prone position. They had to yell to be heard over the paramedic's panicked shouts.

        "Uncle Johnny, it's okay! Jennifer's okay! Uncle Johnny, please! You're bleeding again. Please, Uncle Johnny, calm down!"

        "Uncle Johnny, I'm right here! I'm okay! The man didn't get me!"

        Chris and Jennifer repeated their words over and over until Chris thought they made a little progress. It took several minutes, but Johnny finally calmed down and was no longer screaming for Jennifer to flee, but then his entire body went rigid right before he started twitching like he was having violent muscle spasms. The children sat back on their knees, their eyes round with terror. Jennifer was sure when the shaking stopped Uncle Johnny would be dead.

        Chris and Jennifer exhaled heavy sighs when Johnny's body finally relaxed. They watched the rise and fall of his chest, barely able to tear their eyes away from this movement that signified life.

        Jennifer looked at her brother. Her face was almost as pale as Johnny's.

        "What...what happened, Chris? What was wrong with him?"

        "I don't know. I think he might have had a convulsion."

        "What's that?"

        "I...it's like a buncha muscle spasms all at one time. The muscles get really tight and then start twitching."

        "What caused it?"

        "I...I don't know."

        "But what if it happens again? What will we do?"

        Chris jumped to his feet. "Geez, Jennifer, what do I look like to you, a paramedic? I don't know what caused it and I don't know what we'll do if it happens again! Dad would know what to do if he was here! And Uncle Johnny knows what to do only he's too sick to tell us! So I don't know! I just don't know! And quit your crying! Don't look at me like that, you big baby!"

        Chris stomped away from the campsite leaving Jennifer sitting beside Johnny with tears running down her face.

        The boy stopped when he came to where the horses were tied. Like his father, Chris had always found activity the best way to work through his anger. The boy fed the horses with the feed mixture Johnny had brought along. He was so mad at himself. He glanced at his watch and saw it was eight-thirty.

        How could I have slept that long? I knew Uncle Johnny needed me. I mighta been able to keep him from getting worse if I'd stayed awake. And what if that man had come back? He could have taken Jennifer and I'd have slept right through it.

        The boy glanced up when his sister joined him. He wondered if he looked as dirty and tired as she did. Dried tears streaked dusty tracks down her cheeks. The water from her tears had now mixed in with the face paint making her look more like a clown than an Indian. Red scratches from tree branches and prickly brush dotted her face as a result of their wild run through the woods during the night. Wide smears of Johnny's blood was on the front of her jean jacket and the sleeves of both arms. The knees of her jeans were stained with a mixture of grass, dirt, and blood, and her braids were so loose one could hardly call them braids any longer.

        "Chris...I'm sorry."

        "You don't have anything to be sorry about," the boy said as he finished feeding the animals. "I only got mad 'cause you were asking me questions I couldn't answer. I was upset with myself, not you. I...I'm scared, Jen. Uncle Johnny's really sick. He...he needs help bad."

        Jen looked back at the campsite where Johnny lay as still as death.

        "I wish Daddy was here. He'd know what to do."

        "I know. I wish Dad was here, too." Before Chris could give into the urge to cry he took a deep breath and stood up straighter. "Come on. Let's wash our hands and then eat some breakfast. There's granola bars in one of Uncle Johnny's saddlebags. We can eat a couple of those and wash 'em down with some juice."

        The children cleaned their hands in the stream, retrieved two bottles of orange juice, and fished granola bars out of Johnny's saddlebags. Chris also grabbed a peanut butter sandwich from amongst their stock to feed to Joe.

        Unlike the previous morning in Uncle Johnny's kitchen, breakfast was a solemn affair. The children had no more than finished when John had another convulsion. Chris felt tears burn his eyes when Johnny moaned in pain after the muscle spasms ended.

        With determination that went beyond his years Chris began to formulate a plan. Jennifer's words from earlier, I wish Daddy was here, echoed in Chris's head.

        That's what I gotta do. I gotta get Dad.

        Chris marched toward Cody. He tossed a blanket over the horse's back, then struggled to hoist the heavy saddle.

        "Jen, come here! I need your help!"

        Jennifer looked up from where she was wiping a damp cloth over Johnny's face.

        "What?"

        "Just come here!"

        The girl ran to her brother's side. "What are you doing?"

        "Saddling Cody."

        "Why?"

        "I'm gonna ride down to Uncle Johnny's and call Dad."

        "But, Chris, you can't ride Cody. Uncle Johnny won't let you. He's says Cody's too spirited."

        Chris knew that was exactly what Uncle Johnny said, but he also knew Cody was the fastest and most sure footed horse of the bunch.

        "Look, Jen, I've got no choice. I've got to get back to Uncle Johnny's as soon as I can. Now come on, help me."

        Jennifer glanced at Johnny one last time before turning to help Chris. She wouldn't argue with her brother further, or let him know how much it scared her to think of being left alone here in the woods with Uncle Johnny. What if that man came back? Uncle Johnny was hurt too badly to come to her aid this time.

        The children struggled to get the saddle on the tall gelding, but by working together they got the job done. Chris tightened the cinch, then made certain he had a full canteen. He hung the container over the saddle horn. While Jennifer watched he rummaged through the three sets of saddlebags, putting what few supplies he thought he'd need for himself in one bag including the keys to Johnny's house. Jen ran to the cold stream and pulled out two cans of pop for him and a bottle of juice. Chris smiled his thanks at his sister as he put those items in one of the leather bags along with a peanut butter sandwich. The remainder of the sandwiches, snacks, drinks, and canteens Chris left with Jennifer, along with the First Aid kit. The boy then knelt in front of his sister.

        "You know I have no choice but to go for help, right?"

        "I know."

        Even though Jennifer didn't voice her fear Chris could see it in her eyes.

        "I'd take you with me, but someone has to stay here with Uncle Johnny. He needs you, Jen, just like Nascha needed Katori. You gotta take care of him. You gotta give him a little water when he wakes up and wipe his mouth when he gets sick, and make sure he stays covered with the blankets."

        "But what if he dies, Chris?" Tears shimmered in Jennifer's blue eyes. "What if he..."

        The boy gave his sister a stern shake. "Don't say that. He's not gonna die. I just gotta get help to him, and you just gotta take care of him while I do that. We're partners now, Jen. Just like Uncle Johnny and Dad. So we gotta work together like they do in order to help Uncle Johnny. Can you do that? Can you take care of Uncle Johnny while I'm gone?"

        Though Jennifer wasn't feeling very confident about this whole situation, she nodded and tried to sound as brave as she could. "I can do that."

        "Good." Chris pulled his sister against his chest. They shared a long hug. When he released her he said, "I'm leaving Joe here. He'll protect you and Uncle Johnny. There's no need to be scared."

        "But what about you? What if that man..."

        "Cody runs real fast. I've seen Uncle Johnny practically fly while riding him. If that guy shows up I'll just kick Cody into high gear and hang on tight."

        Jennifer knew her brother's riding skills didn't come anywhere near matching Uncle Johnny's. If Chris was forced to kick Cody into 'high gear' as he put it, he'd most likely fall off and break his neck. But just like there were many things Chris was leaving unvoiced for fear of scaring his sister, Jennifer left some things unvoiced for fear of scaring Chris.

        "I guess that will work. Uncle Johnny says Cody can run like the wind."

        "He can," Chris confirmed.

        The eleven year old untied Cody and began leading him toward the trail that would take them down the mountain. Jennifer walked beside her brother, intending to say a final goodbye before he mounted up.

        Words buzzed around Johnny like pesky flies. He couldn't focus on the conversation at first, but as time went on and the speakers got closer to where he laid he was able to make sense of what they were saying.

        It hurt too much for the paramedic to move his body, but he tilted his head back against the pillows and caught sight of Chris with one foot in Cody's stirrup.

        John's voice was weak and hoarse, but he managed to make his words coherent and stern. "Chris, what are you doing?"

        The boy dropped his foot as quick as he'd pull his hand out of his mother's cookie jar.

        "Nothing, Uncle Johnny. Go back to sleep."

        "I wasn't sleeping. I was unconscious. There's a big difference between the two. Now get over here."

        The DeSoto children had always been taught to respect adults. Therefore Chris did has Johnny commanded.

        "Don't stand over me and make me look up at you. Get down here."

        The boy crouched by Johnny's head as Jennifer stood off to one side. She'd never seen Uncle Johnny this mad before. He never got angry with her and Chris.

        John had to fight around the sharp pain coming from what felt like every part of his body in order to keep his voice firm. He had a good idea what Chris was up to and he wasn't about to let the boy carry out his plan.

        "Why is Cody saddled, Chris?"

        "I...well because I'm going to ride down to your ranch and call my dad. You need help, Uncle Johnny. Me and Jen gotta get you off this mountain."

        "Your dad will come, Chris. Just give him time."

        "But it's only nine-thirty in the morning. They're not expecting us until six tonight! Uncle Johnny, we can't wait that long."

        Johnny gave the upset boy a tired grin. "Why? Got a hot date?"

        Chris shot to his feet, his hands balled in fists. "That's not funny, John! It's not funny at all! You need help and I'm gonna get it for you!"

        The boy spun on one heel and stomped toward Cody.

        "Chris! Chris, wait!" Johnny tried to push himself to an upright position but ended up falling back with a cry.

        Chris heard the anguished yell, and heard his sister trying to comfort Johnny, but he never turned around.

        The paramedic barely had the strength to call after the boy, "Chris! Christopher Roy DeSoto, when I get my hands on you I'm gonna tan your hide for disobeying me! Christopher! Chris!"

        Johnny was dimly aware of Jennifer running a cool cloth over his dry lips. His collarbone ached with each ragged breath he inhaled, his wrist was so swollen he couldn't have moved it had he wanted to, the knifed muscles of his injured leg and arm seemed to throb in time with his heart beat, and the jagged wounds in his back were bleeding again. A tear trickled down the side of his face that he hoped Jennifer didn't notice.

        Roy, I'm so sorry. I'm so damn sorry. First Jenny, now Chris. Oh damn. Damn, damn, damn.

        "Uncle Johnny, don't cry," Jennifer begged, her own tears running down her cheeks. "Please don't cry. Chris will be okay. We'll all be okay. I promise. I'll take care of you, and Joe will take care of me, and Cody will take care of Chris. So see, we'll be fine. We'll be just fine."

        John gazed up at the girl. He smiled when she wiped at the tears running into his hair.

        "I'm sorry, Peanut," he rasped around a dry throat. "This camping trip didn't turn out exactly like I had planned."

        "It's not your fault. You didn't know that man was here."

        "But I should have."

        "How?"

        "I...I just should have."

        John closed his eyes, not able to look into Jennifer's trusting gaze any longer.

        Jennifer scooted as close to Johnny as she could without touching him. She wasn't sure how she knew he was sad, she just did. Not knowing how else to help him, she started to sing a song that always made her happy no matter how bad of a day she was having.

        "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy, when skies are gray. You'll never know, dear, how much I love you. So don't take my sunshine away."

        Tears ran more steadily down Johnny's cheeks as Jennifer sang her song over and over. In his mind he sang along with her. He wondered at the course of events of his life. Maybe this was how he was supposed to die, with a little girl by his side singing a song about being someone's sunshine.

        Johnny's right hand worked its way out of the blanket. Without opening his eyes he wrapped his arm around Jennifer's slim waist and pulled her to his chest, not caring that the movement caused him further pain, or made one of his many wounds start to bleed again. He held her close and felt her lay her small hand in his palm. He closed his fingers around her smooth skin.

        Jennifer was crying as she leaned forward and kissed her Uncle Johnny's cheek. Even after all he'd been through his face paint was still in place. Jen ran a finger of her free hand over the purple stripe.

        "Purple is for brother," she whispered through her tears. "And for uncle, too. We thank you, Great Father In The Sky for our brother and our uncle. Please keep him strong until my daddy gets here. He is called Katori. He Who Dances With Rattlesnakes. He's not the tallest, nor the shortest. He's not the fastest, or the slowest. He is not the strongest, or the weakest. But he is the bravest. He's the bravest and he saved me from that man. Now please save him. Please."

        As the morning wore on Jennifer remained wrapped in Johnny's arm, with her hand encased in his. Sometimes she sang, and sometimes she cried, and sometimes she wiped Johnny's face with water, but mostly she prayed, asking God to take care of her uncle, He Who Dances With Rattlesnakes.
        
        

Part 2