Page 22 of Capture the Moment

“Tim, hon, I wish you wouldn’t question my decisions.”

“How about if you hold off on that decision until I find out what’s going on at Willow Flats?”

“How about ifyou,” she said, her high voice curt and uncharacteristically tense, “do what I say and stop second-guessing me?” On that note, she hung up.

Not a good start to the day.

The coordinates provided by the informant led Tim deep into the wilderness, the trail meandering through thick foliage. As he navigated the terrain, his mind couldn’t help but circle back to his conversation with Sally. There was an edge in her voice that unsettled him.

The ringing alarm in Tim’s head grew louder. Going alone to confront a potential poacher was a deviation from established safety protocols. Sally knew this well; she had emphasized the importance of teamwork in a recent talk to the seasonal rangers. Her decision left Tim with a nagging sense of unease. What early morning meeting could have been so important?

Added to that was Sally’s urgent insistence that she be the first to know when Grizzly 399 was spotted. She wanted a direct call on her cell, avoiding radio communication to prevent eavesdropping.

If something was bothering Sally, why hadn’t she confided in him? He thought they were friends. More than friends.

After his wife had died, Tim never thought he’d feel the stirrings of romance for another woman. He’d had a great love, and memories of Mary were enough to live on for the rest of his life.

But then he met Sally Janus. She was nothing like his wife, not in looks or personality or demeanor, yet he found himself rather ... smitten. Perhaps it was their mutual love of thegreat outdoors, something Mary had never fully embraced. Or maybe it was just sharing this mid-century time of life that ignited the spark. Something clicked between them last summer, and the spark caught fire.

All winter, things had been progressing rather nicely. They ate dinner together nearly every night. They spent their days off together, snowmobiling, skiing at all three nearby ski resorts—Snow King, Jackson Hole, and Grand Targhee—or just relaxing in front of the fireplace. They talked about everything—their love of the national parks, their plans to visit every single one of them in their retirement years. A month or so ago, he had noticed a shift in their discussions of the future. They spoke as a couple, in plural.“We’ve never been to Banff in Canada. That should top the list.”Or“First summer after retirement, we’re heading to Alaska to see all eight national parks.”

Then, two weeks ago, Sally returned from an annual meeting of NPS chief rangers, directors, and superintendents in Yellowstone and now seemed distant, a little cool toward him. He’d asked her if anything was wrong, but she insisted she was just preoccupied with the opening of the park. He wondered if he’d done something or said something. Had he pushed too far when he brought up combining a Christmas trip to Florida to see the Everglades with a visit to his eighty-five-year-old mother? Had that freaked her out? He wondered. He planned to bring it up at dinner one evening this week, until Maisie, his all-consuming darling of a granddaughter, had entered the picture. Quiet, romantic dinners with Sally were off the calendar for the duration.

He shook off his frustration. Approaching the given coordinates, Tim took a moment, taking in the breathtaking scenery around him before shifting into ranger mode. Personal musings were pushed aside as he focused on the task at hand. Duty, in the form of investigating potential poaching, demanded his attention now.

As the sun rose in the sky, he searched the area for telltale signs that someone had been there. He saw no footprints or tire tracks in remote areas, no illegal camping, no sign of traps or snares or firearms. No evidence of recent kills or carcasses. No blood stains. Poachers were in a hurry and usually left behind valuable clues. Traces of bait or attractants used to lure animals, disturbances in wildlife habitats, or even litter. A few years ago, he had tracked down the identity of a poacher from fingerprints left on a candy wrapper.

Two hours later, after thoroughly combing Willow Flats, Tim found no signs of the reported poacher. Nothing. Frustration weighed on him as he retraced his steps. Before heading to his car, he radioed Sally.

“Ranger Janus here,” her voice crackled through the radio.

“Hey, Sally. It’s Tim. I’ve been out searching the area, but no sign of any poacher.”

“You were supposed to call me on my cell.”

“That would require cell reception,” he said, sounding a little testy himself. He was cold and hungry, and had spent hours chasing a bad lead. “And where I am, I’m lucky that the radio is working.”

She sighed. “No sign of her?”

“Who? The poacher?” A female? That would be unusual.

“399.”

“No.” His brow furrowed. “Sally, is that why you sent me out here? To look for 399?” The frustration was evident in his voice.

“You were sent to investigate a poacher tip,” she said, her words clipped and businesslike. “That’s why I need direct communication, off the radio. We can’t risk information leaks.”

“There’s no leak because there’s no poacher in this vicinity, Ranger Janus.”

A heavy pause lingered before Sally spoke again. “Thank you for checking, Tim,” she said, a little softer. Then back cameher no-nonsense voice. “Head over to Gros Ventre River and inform Coop that he will be giving the ranger talk tonight.”

“Coop? He’ll balk at that.”

“It’s your job to make him want to do it. Tell him he can pick any topic he wants. Over and out.” She ended the call abruptly.

Tim sighed, stowing his radio away. As he started toward the valley, he wondered if there was more to Sally’s prickliness than met the eye. He wondered if she might be giving him the elbow.

Maisie slept late that morning. When she read Pops’s note, she ate breakfast and thought about her day. She had hours and hours with nothing to do, so she put on her yellow puffy down jacket and decided to go for a bicycle ride, borrowing Pops’s bike again. She didn’t think he’d mind, though the bike was too big for her. The seat was awkward. The handlebars were too wide apart. It took her a while to get the hang of it. Once she could get moving along, she was okay. Starting and stopping were the tricky parts. Worth it, though. She loved exploring the park on two wheels, feeling the rush of wind against her face as she passed by towering trees and stunning vistas. The faster she went, the easier the bike was to manage.

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