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Mountain of Peril Faith in the Parks Book 1

By J. Carol Nemeth

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Chapter One

With a whistle on his lips, Jake Stuart rounded the corner of the ranger station. He pulled his keys from his pants pocket, prepared to flip the Closed sign by the door to Open as he did every morning. As he approached the front stoop, he froze. The whistle hung in his throat. He jerked back, a gasp slipping out. The decapitated head of a black bear perched on the floor of the porch stoop, a pair of severed paws positioned on either side of the head. Blood seeped from beneath the black fur of the head and ran across the cement stoop dripping into the grass. Jake tasted bile as his gut knotted. He clenched his fists and shook his head. Who would do such an awful thing? And why? The glazed eyes of the bear were haunting. This bear had died needlessly.
Avoiding the horrible mess, Jake stepped onto the stoop from the side and unlocked the station office. Grabbing the phone, he called his supervisor, Cal Bishop. He’d come out and assist in the processing of the crime scene. Because that’s exactly what it was. He pulled his digital camera from the desk drawer. Photo-documenting the evidence was an important part of any investigation. After searching carefully, no vehicle tire tracks or footprints could be found. Too much grass and gravel and not enough dirt to hold a print.
By the time Cal arrived, the spring morning had warmed considerably and flies had found the bear head.
“Now that’s not a pretty sight to greet you in the morning.” Cal climbed out of his National Park SUV. “We’re getting more and more reports of poaching lately, and out of season too. They took the carcass and left the head. Pretty disgusting.”
“Yeah, well, this is different.” Jake squatted down, pulled out his pocketknife and probed the fur for possible gunshot wounds. “This is more than just poaching. Someone’s left us a strong message.” But for what? A warning, maybe? Or a threat?
~
“What’d she say, Burt?” The elderly man turned to his companion where they sat on a bench in front of the old service station.
“I dunno, George. Can’t understand her.” Burt cupped his ear with his hand and leaned forward. “What’d ya say, young woman?”
Molly Walker stepped closer and raised her voice. “Sir, I asked for directions to Deep Creek Ranger Station.” This was the first business she’d found open on this road and somehow she thought she’d gotten turned around. The two elderly gentlemen sitting on the bench in front of the station were why she’d stopped, but she wasn’t getting very far with them.
“Sounds like gibberish to me, George. Can’t make out a word.” He turned his head toward the screen door beside him. “Hey, Bertha!” he called, hand cupped around his mouth like a megaphone. “Come out here a minute, would ya!”
Molly sighed as a large lady in a bright print blouse, orange-red curly hair and large dangly earrings propped open the screen door. “What ya bellowin’ about, Burt? Oh, hello there,” she added with a congenial smile upon spotting Molly.
“This here young woman wants something, and I can’t understand her.” Burt and George both shook their heads.
The woman rolled her eyes, “What can I do for ya, sweetie? You need help with the gas pump? It’s not one of those newfangled ones, but it works. Some of the young folks can’t figure it out.”
Molly smiled wide. “No, thanks. I just need directions out to Deep Creek Ranger Station. I seem to have gotten turned around somehow.”
“Oh, sure. Take this road into town then turn right at the courthouse. It’s the big building with the gold dome.” A touch of pride edged her words. She gave Molly detailed directions all the way to Deep Creek.
“Thanks! You’ve been a big help.” Molly waved at Burt and George. “Thanks, fellows!”
“Who’s Hank Bellows, Bertha?” George raised his bushy eyebrows.
“Never mind, George.” Bertha huffed as the screen door banged shut behind her.
Molly followed Bertha’s directions, liking the laid-back quaintness of the little town. It had that certain “Mayberry” feel to it. She half expected an old black and white to cruise past with Andy or Barney at the wheel. Turning right at the courthouse, she spotted two more elderly men sitting on a park bench, a checkerboard between them. Remembering Burt and George, she grinned. Laid back, indeed!
Small storefronts, a hardware store and an old drugstore lined the street. Taking another right at the old train depot, Molly left the town behind, passing small mountain homes along the green hillsides, a country store and the occasional mobile home. The North Carolina Smoky Mountains rose up from the valley she drove through, their smoky blue color beautiful against the brilliant blue sky. Spring had arrived in the Smokies, and the vibrant pink and white Laurel bushes were in full bloom. Redbuds and dogwoods peeked between the new green leaves sprouting on the poplar, maple and oak trees.
Molly spotted the sign for Deep Creek Campground and a surge of exhilaration knotted her stomach. She’d waited a long time for this. It was her first position with the National Park Service, and she was certain great-grandpa Murphy would’ve been pleased. Having trained for this very day, she was ready to begin her new career. Gratitude for how circumstances had worked out swelled in her heart. Thank you, Lord.
Turning right, she crossed a bridge that spanned a swiftly flowing creek then entered a large clearing in the woods. A small brown building sat near the center with a sign beside it that read Office. The early afternoon breeze stirred an American flag at the top of a flagpole.
Molly parked across from the office and exited her SUV, stretching stiff muscles and glancing around the quiet clearing. Strolling over to the little office, she opened the squeaky screen door, hoping Cal Bishop was in. As head ranger over the campground and this part of the park district, he was meeting her here to explain her duties.
The small front office was split by a wooden counter along the front, a desk holding a base station radio and a file cabinet positioned behind it. Mountain scenes and maps graced the walls while a tattered and torn backpack hung by the front door. An old coffee pot and tin can, both punctured and bent, hung from the backpack. Beneath, a sign read, Campers: Please Store Food Properly. A partition to the left of the counter indicated more office space.
A young auburn-haired man dressed in a National Park Service uniform leaned on the counter, grinning as Molly glanced around. His hair was short and freckles spattered across his nose. His name badge read “Craig Wilson.”
“Can I help you?” A bright smile crossed his lips.
“I hope so.” Molly returned his smile. “I’m looking for Cal Bishop. Is he in?”
“No, he’s out in the campground somewhere. I can call him if you’d like.”
“I’d appreciate that. My name’s Molly Walker. I believe he’s expecting me.”
“Molly Walker!” He extended his hand to Molly. “You bet he is. He’ll be glad to know you’re here. I’m Craig Wilson. It’s nice to meet you.”
“I’m happy to meet you, Craig.” Molly shook his outstretched hand.
“Hang on a minute. I’ll call Cal.” Craig reached for the base radio microphone on the desk, depressed the button and called out some numbers followed by Cal’s name. “Guess who’s here? Yeah, she made it. Come back?”
A deep male voice responded he was on his way.
“He’ll be here shortly. I just made some coffee a little while ago. Would you like a cup?”
“I’d love some.” Molly glanced around the office. The coffee maker sat on a small table near the desk. “May I help myself?”
“Sure. May as well. You’ll be working here so make yourself at home.”
“Thanks.” Molly chuckled, filling an insulated cup. “Where are you from, Craig?”
“Montana.”
“Wow! You’re a long way from home. Been in the park service long?”
“This is my first season.” He perched on the barstool behind the counter. “You’re coming in a little late, I suppose.”
Molly settled onto the rolling chair at the desk, sipping the hot brew. “I understand I’m replacing someone that didn’t work out.”
“Yeah, that was Howard, Cal’s assistant ranger for the past two seasons. He took seriously ill. Don’t know the whole story, but I don’t think he’s returning to the park service. Early retirement, I think.” He shrugged his shoulders.
“So what do you do?”
“I’m a summer seasonal park aide. I’m still in college and working my way through, but I’ll graduate next spring. The experience here will be good.”
The screen door opened and a man of stocky build strolled in. He wore the gray shirt and dark green pants of the National Park Service uniform, and when he removed a dark green NPS ball cap and sunglasses, Molly noticed his sandy colored crew cut and bright blue eyes surrounded by laugh lines. Determining he was in his mid-forties, she stood as he approached with outstretched hand.
“I’m Cal Bishop,” his voice deep and gravely. “Welcome to Deep Creek, Miss Walker.”
“Please, call me Molly.”
“Certainly, but you have to call me Cal. We don’t stand on formalities around here. Come on back and have a seat. I have some things to go over with you.” He led Molly behind the partition where another desk and file cabinet made up Cal’s office. Through an open door to the left, Molly spotted what passed for a bathroom. It would be a tight fit, but certainly better than nothing.
“Did you have a good trip?” Cal motioned her to sit in a chair beside the desk while he took the rolling chair behind it. “Where’d you drive from?”
“From Charlottesville, Virginia. Except for a couple really bad storms that kept me alert, it was uneventful.”
“They’re predicting storms this evening. We need it. It’s been a dry spring so far.” As he chatted he drew a file folder from the desk drawer, removing several pages. “Here’s a list of required uniform items and you’ll get a uniform allowance, so that’ll help you out.”
He removed a small plastic bag stapled to the list then handed the list to her. “You can order by mail or online, but it takes a week or so to get your items. However, if you don’t mind taking a drive, there’s a store in Maryville, Tennessee that carries the NPS uniform shirts, pants and leather belt. You can also pick up the ball cap.”
Cal pointed to his on the side of the desk.
Molly glanced at it. “What about the “Smoky-Bear” hat?”
He tapped the list in her hand. “It has to be ordered. Pick up some good hiking boots too. You’ll need ‘em.”
Dumping the contents of the little plastic bag onto the desk, he picked up a little brass bar. “I took the liberty of ordering your name tag so you’d have it when you arrived.” He handed her the name tag and a metal, shield-shaped badge. “This gives you your authority.”
“When do I start?” Eagerness threatened to overwhelm Molly. Had he noticed her wiping her palms on her pant legs? It was hard to tone down her beaming smile.
Cal glanced at his wristwatch, a broad grin on his lips. Yeah, he’d noticed. “If you want to drive over to Maryville for your uniforms, go today. Then you can start in the morning. On your way, if you don’t mind, you can deliver something to the remote Twentymile Ranger Station for me. I have some paperwork for Ranger Jake Stuart.”
“I don’t mind. Is it on the way?”
“Yep. You drive right past it to get to Maryville. Before you go, I’ll take you up to the duplex where you’ll lodge temporarily until you find a place.” Grabbing a notepad, Cal drew a rudimentary map and handed it to Molly along with a manila envelope. “Here are directions to Maryville with Twentymile marked on it. This is the packet for Jake.” Unlocking a drawer in his desk, he opened it and pulled out a Glock 19 9mm and a brown leather holster.
“This is your sidearm.” He peered closely at Molly. “From your weapon scores, I see you know how to handle one of these.”
“I didn’t do too badly.” Pleasure warmed Molly at his compliment. “Besides, my father made sure my brothers and I knew how to protect ourselves.”
Cal nodded and handed her another form. “That’s what I like to hear. Sign on the dotted line. This says you were issued the weapon. Just make sure the serial number matches the paper before you sign.”
Comparing the numbers, Molly signed the form and returned it to Cal.
“Follow me and I’ll show you to your quarters.” Clapping his cap on his head, he led the way out the door.
~
After Molly and Cal dropped off her suitcases, bags and boxes at the little duplex up the hill from the office, Molly grabbed lunch at the drugstore in town then headed west toward Twentymile Ranger Station. The drive was pleasant with the road winding past the edge of a huge lake and around hairpin curves. According to Cal’s map, the lake was Fontana Lake. The scenery was gorgeous. Molly’s family had visited the Great Smoky Mountains in her childhood, and she’d always loved the gentle yet mysterious smoky-blue mountains. Not nearly as tall as the Rockies or some of the other western mountain ranges, the Smokies had a quiet, peaceful beauty all their own.
Molly spotted a sign for Fontana Dam and another for Fontana Village. Having read up on the area before coming, she knew the dam, one of many in the area, was built by the Tennessee Valley Authority during WWII. The village was a summer resort with a lodge, swimming pools and hiking. It was located south of Fontana Lake, while the boundary to Great Smoky Mountains National Park lay along the northern shore.
With no time to explore the area today, Molly vowed to return on a day off to investigate further. Passing the entrance to the village, she descended a winding, wooded mountain road to the bottom where a bridge crossed a wide river. To her right, the sheer wall of Fontana Dam rose far above. A power generating station sat to one side. On the left of the bridge, the river flowed into another lake. Here in the valley below the dam, the road wound along the lake’s edge on the left while on the right the wooded foot of the mountains rose up into the park.
Turning into a gravel driveway by a sign for Twentymile Ranger Station, she parked in the small lot in front of the building. Climbing out, she stretched, listening to the peace and quiet that enveloped her. A creek flowing merrily alongside the station, a gentle breeze rustling the trees and birds singing were the only sounds. Bright sunshine belied any sign of a predicted storm.
Molly stepped onto the small front porch and found a large wooden clock face with movable hands indicating the ranger would return in an hour. She glanced at her wristwatch. She couldn’t wait that long. Not with an hour drive to Maryville.
Exploring the grounds, she hoped to find Jake Stuart. A long, dark green garage stood fifty feet behind the station. A light green NPS Jeep was parked in front beside a blue Ford Ranger. The gravel and dirt driveway wound past the station, the garage and on up the hill. It curved past a little brown shanty before disappearing around the bend.
Well, now what should she do? A faint sound came from up the hill. Was that a metallic ringing noise? Following it, she stopped at the little shanty only to find it locked. Twenty-five feet further an iron gate blocked the road that meandered into the woods. Ducking beneath the gate, Molly followed the road toward the sound of a faint voice, an occasional metallic ring and a horse nickering. Ahead she spotted a barn surrounded by corrals.
Shoving open one of the barn doors, she glanced around for the owner of the voice. Two horses and a mule stood in their stalls, softly nickering at her appearance. As they stirred, motes of dust danced in the sunbeams that slipped through the cracks above the rafters. The scent of hay and horses filled her nose.
“Hello?” she called in a soft voice. Frightening the horses would be a bad idea. “Anyone here?”
Molly approached one of the horses and stroked its head, crooning softly to it. “Easy, fellow. Where’s the ranger, huh?”
The voice spoke again, louder this time. The owner switched back and forth between talking and humming in a deep baritone. Striding to the double doors leading to a corral, Molly found a man working beside a horse. Bent from the waist, he held the horse’s back hoof between his knees, a hoof pick in his hand. With his back to her, he hadn’t heard her approach. The horse noticed her and nickered, shifting his weight.
“Whoa, Billy!” A deep voice soothed. “Stand still, boy. We’ll be done shortly.”
“Excuse me,” Molly said quietly. “Sorry to interrupt your work, but I’m looking for Jake Stuart.”
Glancing over his shoulder in surprise, the man accidently allowed the weight of the horse’s leg to slip from his grasp. Suddenly off balance, he fell forward, landing on his shoulder and knees.
“Oh, no!” Molly gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Picking himself up, he dusted off his pants and grinned. Molly wasn’t sure if the red in his cheeks was from embarrassment or from leaning over too long. She had a pretty good idea which it was. Her hands still covering her mouth, she tried not to laugh, but found one working its way out.
~
Jake Stuart noted the woman was trying unsuccessfully not to laugh at him. “You know, seeing as how we’ve never met, I don’t think it’s very polite to laugh at me.” His voice and face were stern, but his dark sapphire eyes shone with laughter. “Especially since you’re the one who startled me.”
“I truly am sorry, but if I’d shouted, would I have startled you any less?” The pretty woman chuckled again.
He shook his head. “I suppose you have a point. Did you say you’re looking for Jake Stuart?”
“Yes, I am.”
He surveyed her thoroughly, taking in the long brown braid hanging carelessly over her shoulder. The soft curve of her cheeks, and the dark chocolate eyes. Her lips were a delicate shade of pink, slightly compressed at the moment and compressing more and more as he observed her appearance. She wore a pair of blue jeans and a white button-down shirt with flowers embroidered on the collar.
“Do you know where he is or don’t you?”
Uh-oh. A frown was forming between her delicate eyebrows.
Jake couldn’t take his eyes from her. She blushed, and the pink color delighted him. Was that a Virginian accent he detected? Whatever it was, it sounded great coming from her.
“What do you need him for?”
Eyes narrowing, she lifted her chin defiantly. “That’s none of your concern. I have something for him, and I need to give it directly to him.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Well now, he never mentioned expecting you. I’m sure if he knew you were coming, he would’ve made sure he was here to meet you.”
Boy, this was fun. He checked his grin as she crossed her arms as well and tilted her chin upward.
“Be that as it may, I’m still looking for him.”
~
Molly jumped as the walkie-talkie propped on a nearby stump crackled to life. After the usual call numbers, a deep voice said, “Come in, Jake, this is Cal.”
Whoever this man was, he glanced at the walkie-talkie then back at her. Was the call for him? “Come in, Jake. This is Cal. Do you read me?”
Molly watched with dismay as the man hesitated momentarily before reaching for the instrument and pressing the button, responding. “Cal, this is Jake. What’s up?”
“Just wanted to let you know that Molly Walker will be by sometime this afternoon to drop off those papers you wanted. She’s the new ranger over here. Should be getting there soon, I expect. Was going to call sooner, but got caught up in a situation here.”
Jake’s gaze flicked back to hers. “Thanks Cal but she beat you to it. She’s already here.” He shrugged, never removing his eyes from her face.
“Roger that, Jake. Talk with you later. Cal out.”
“Jake out.”
Molly spun on her heels and headed back through the barn. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Jake yank off the leather apron covering his uniform and nametag. He tossed it on the stump, slipped the walkie-talkie into its belt holster, and hurried after her.
“Hey, wait up,” he called.
She sped toward the station, wanting to put some distance between them.
Jake caught up with her just before the gate. Catching hold of her arm, he gently tugged her around. “You’re quick, you know that?”
Molly turned her best blank expression on him and pulled her arm away. “Thanks.”
“Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have led you on like that, but I guess I was little sore at being caught off guard and having fallen flat on my face. I think they call it male ego or something like that. Anyway, I know you didn’t surprise me on purpose.” One side of his mouth lifted in a crooked grin as his eyebrows rose. “Am I forgiven?”
Molly grinned at the “male ego” comment and knew she couldn’t stay mad. She’d have to work with him some time or other. Best to get things squared and make life a little easier. Besides, she had laughed at him. She held out her hand. “You’re forgiven, if you’ll forgive me for laughing at you.”
His large calloused hand engulfed hers then released it. “Done. Now let’s start over. Hi, I’m Jake Stuart.”
“Molly Walker. I have an envelope for you in my car. The one Cal referred to when he gave you away.”
As Jake strode on long legs back toward the station, Molly tried to keep up.
He shortened his stride. To match hers? “Right. Needless to say, I wasn’t expecting you. I knew someone was replacing Howard, but I didn’t know who. It’s been awhile since I’ve been over to Deep Creek.” As they stopped by her car, Molly retrieved the envelope.
“When did you get to town?”
“Today. I checked in with Cal, dropped my things at my temporary quarters then headed here. He suggested purchasing my uniforms in Maryville so that’s where I’m heading. He asked me to drop this off to save him a trip.”
“You’re heading to Maryville, huh?” Jake’s eyes gleamed with interest. “Could I impose on you to pick up something for me?”
“Sure. What do you need?” Another errand for another ranger? Was she going to be a ranger or a courier?
Jake pulled out his wallet and handed her a few bills then removed a notepad from his shirt pocket. “I’ll jot down what I need.” As he wrote, Molly took the opportunity to observe him unnoticed. His thick black hair was cut short and neat. A very handsome man in spite of the faint scar marring the right side of his chin. When she’d first seen him at the barn she’d noticed his broad shoulders and his dark sapphire eyes beneath black brows.
She suddenly realized those same eyes were gazing at her now. Uh oh. She’d been caught staring. Looking down at the paper he was holding out, she willed herself not to blush.
“R…right,” she stammered. “I’ll pick these up for you and drop them off on my way past. Will you be here?”
Jake’s smile was bright against his tanned face. “I’ll be here. When you live in the backcountry, there aren’t too many places to go. If I’m not here at the station, I’ll be up at the barn. I still have two more horses to shoe.”
As Molly drove away, she was still embarrassed that she’d stared, much less been caught at it. What had come over her? Staring at a man wasn’t her style. She shook her head and concentrated on the winding road.

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