Caridad Pineiro - The Coltons - Fisher, Ryder & Quinn - Soldier's Secret Child

“What size shoe does T.J. wear?” he asked.

“A thirteen,” she responded and stood by him as he kneeled to examine the footprints.

“That’s about the size of this shoe which confirms that T.J. probably went up this trail.”

He rose and adjusted the straps on the knapsack, making sure they were tight so that the pack would not shift as they headed up the trail. From the trunk, he removed a rifle, eased the strap over his head and settled the weapon securely beside the pack on his back. Then he faced Macy, reached for her straps, but paused by the bindings on her knapsack.

“May I?” he asked.

She nodded and he quickly adjusted her pack to keep it from shifting and then gestured to the trail. “I’ll lead the way. If I’m going too fast—”

“Believe me I’ll let you know.”

He smiled, ripped out a baseball cap from his back pocket and plopped it on her head. “Put this on. There’ll be glare on the footpath and once it starts raining, it’ll keep you dry.”

“Thanks.”

He grabbed his cowboy hat from the backseat of the Jeep and also put on a pair of polarized sunglasses which would help cut down on the glare. Taking the point, he focused on the sneaker tread pattern and followed it up the trail.

T.J. had not tried to hide his tracks. The footprints were clearly visible along the path. He had been in a hurry, however, judging from the wide distance between his steps. If he recalled T.J.’s height correctly, the space between the footprints indicated that he had been almost jogging up the trail.

If Macy hadn’t been with him, he would have done the same, eager as he was to find the teens and put to right what was happening so Macy could have some peace of mind. But she was with him and so he kept his pace reasonable, his mind focused on tracking T.J., but also aware of how she was doing as she followed behind him.

About a mile up the path, T.J.’s stride began to shorten and about a quarter of a mile after that, they became the length of a normal walking step. He paused then and perused the path ahead of them as well as the open country all around.

Pines and oaks dotted the rolling hillsides. In between the stands of the trees were patches of grass and larger meadows which in the springtime would be awash with the colors of Texas wildflowers. Even now there were spots of bright color from some of the later blooming plants and stretches of prickly pear cactus. Up ahead of them, the trail wound through stands of trees before a limestone rock face rose up to the left, leading to the overlook Macy had identified on the map.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked as she stood beside him.

“It is,” he said and pointed to a herd of fallow deer feeding on grass in one distant meadow, their almost white coats bright against the dull brown of the parched grasses.

Macy leaned against him and took hold of his hand as she witnessed the sight. “I wish that one day…”

He didn’t need her to finish. He knew what she wished and inside of him, something had been slowly taking root since last night. Something that said maybe what they both wished wasn’t so far apart.

Looking up the trail, he said, “You mentioned a cave?”

She nodded. “There’s quite a few of them up ahead, but I think the biggest one is quite a ways up. Probably past the overlook and closer to the bridge.”

Once again concern rose in him as he cast his gaze upward at the thickening clouds above. Inhaling deeply, he could smell the coming rain and hoped the forecasters were wrong about the force of the storm.

“Let’s get going. The rain will be here soon,” he said and they once again set off, following T.J.’s sneaker prints in the dust of the trail.

They had been on the winding path for another half an hour when the first fat raindrop plopped on the brim of his cowboy hat. He quickly removed two large rain ponchos from one of the pouches on his pack and helped Macy ease hers on over the backpack. Then he slipped on his own as the drops grew more frequent and quite heavy in a matter of seconds.

There was little shelter on the trail as they continued upward, just an occasional stand of oaks here and there, but they couldn’t pause for any delayed shelter under the trees. The impressions of T.J.’s sneakers vanished quickly beneath the onslaught of the rain. The trail in front of them became a difficult morass of mud.

As they struggled ever onward, he kept his eyes trained on the areas around the trail to make sure T.J. had not detoured off the path. There wasn’t any sign that he had deviated from continuing up the trail. If anything, up ahead he found an impression protected by a thick oak beside the trail. Bending down, he examined the footprint more closely just to make sure. It was T.J.’s.

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