I think I can manage. These horses are massive. I’ve never seen horses this big before.”
“Brenik is seventeen point three hands. Zephyr is sixteen hands, and Hera over there is sixteen and a half. RCMP horses used to be primarily Thoroughbred, but now have Hanoverian in the bloodline for temperament.”
“Did you train these horses yourself?”
He couldn’t help but smile at the wonder on her face. She looked as innocent as a child, staring at these massively powerful but gentle giants. “No, the farm is located in Pakenham, Ontario, in the Ottawa Valley. At three years old, they’re transferred to a training facility at Rockcliffe Park Equestrian Center in Ottawa. Their handlers are total pros and do a fantastic job. Most horses are raised for a career in the Musical Ride. It’s an incredible spectacle, if you ever get a chance to see it. Aaron participated for a few years before coming to Fort Mason.”
“That’s the only time the RCMP wears those red uniforms anymore, eh?”
“It’s iconic, but yes—the red is really only ceremonial these days.” He waited until she’d settled herself in the saddle before getting situated, then led the way out and onto the road. The town felt unnaturally still and quiet after the intensity of the night before, and he couldn’t help but keep a constant watch on their surroundings. While he felt mostly certain that Kara’s attacker wouldn’t dare try anything while she rode with him, letting his guard down would be a mistake.
At the edge of town, Sam waved to his brother who sat in an RCMP patrol car, lights flashing. Bright orange pylons blocked the road, and one look down the main stretch out of Fort Mason showed exactly why. Leo hadn’t been exaggerating about the amount of debris on the road—Sam noted several fallen trees and multiple downed wires. Some of the power line posts leaned dangerously toward the road and would need to be righted before the route could be opened again. Anyone who needed to leave town would have to take the eastern road and add a solid forty-five minutes to their journey. That was both a benefit and a disadvantage of living in the mostly uninhabited wilds of northern British Columbia—it provided peaceful isolation from the frantic pace of urban life, but also meant an occasionally frustrating lack of accessibility to the rest of the province.
He steered Brenik toward a blue-and-white provincial parks sign that denoted the start of a maintained trail just outside town. “This should bring us fairly close to the dig site,” he said, looking back at Kara. “I assume you brought something to take photos with?”
She nodded. “I used a portable battery to charge my phone at your parents’ place. The resolution of the images won’t be nearly as high as with my camera—my cell phone is a few generations old—but it should do as proof for Gaida Industries.”
Sam’s shoulders tightened at the reminder of Ed Tigh’s attitude the day before. “Do you deal with a lot of pushback in your line of work? His hostility seemed uncalled for.”
Kara’s nostrils flared as she drew Zephyr up alongside him. “I wish I could say it’s unusual, but it’s not. I’m a woman working on contracts with industries that are male-dominated. Like any line of work, I run into people who respect my expertise and those who resent it, though I suspect I might encounter more resentment because government-regulated survey work, by its very nature, causes delays for companies looking to conduct large-scale digging and building operations. They often see my purpose as a waste of time and money, regardless of the necessary historical value in local archaeology.”
“So I shouldn’t be concerned about the way he spoke to you?”
Kara stared straight ahead at the path. “I can fight my own battles when it comes to my job, Sam. I appreciate your intervention in the physical ones, but I’ve handled these types before. I’ll just get the photos I need as proof, and then he’ll have to back down and let me work. If the survey isn’t complete, the government can swoop in and shut Gaida Industries down, so regardless of whether he thinks I’m making it all up or not, he needs me here to do this work.”
Sam ground his teeth, thinking about what her attacker had said last night at the motel. Gaida Industries might need the survey done, but someone didn’t want her here at all, and they’d gone out of their way to make sure she didn’t start digging. But if they successfully ran her out of town, wouldn’t another archaeologist just come along instead? Where was the sense in trying to scare her away?
After another kilometer or so, he pulled them off the trail and into the forest. The ground was damp, but not nearly as wet as the exposed ground that hadn’t received the benefit of cover from trees overhead. Kara had remained silent, and he didn’t know what to say—how did he talk to her about anything other than work and the attacks without dredging up old hurts and angry emotions on both sides?
Still, he didn’t mind the silence all that much. It gave him a chance to think over what had happened the day before. Even if Kara didn’t think anything of Ed Tigh’s hostility, something about the man’s attitude and the attacks didn’t sit right with Sam.
“It’s right up here, I think,” he said as they broke through a dense line of trees. “You can see the forest starting to thin here. Must be why they chose this area. You’re going to have quite the stretch of earth to survey, aren’t you?”
She nodded as the disturbed ground of the site came into view. “Yes, my team and I have several weeks of work at minimum, but the good news is that there are stretches along the proposed pipeline route that have already been surveyed over the years. The University of British Columbia runs northern field schools during the summer, which is to everyone’s advantage. It means less ground disturbance all around, if Gaida Industries can go ahead and lay the pipe through those areas.”
Kara dismounted and pulled out her cell phone, then crouched at the edge of the site. Sam joined her, but kept watch as she snapped pictures of the ground. He couldn’t see anything of note—it just looked like a large patch of tossed soil to him—but the expressions that flitted across her face were fascinating. One moment her brows furrowed in concentration, and the next her lips parted in surprise. Then she’d purse her lips and stare at the earth, then sigh, then smirk. It was as if she was having a conversation with herself, and to his bewilderment, he felt a sudden tug in his gut.
He wanted to be a part of that conversation. But no, that was ridiculous. She’s doing her job, the way I should be doing mine. Stop letting the past creep in and focus on the present.
He wrenched his eyes away from her and began studying the ground at the edge of the clearing, searching for any remaining hints or clues left behind by the previous day’s attackers. A footprint, fibers from clothing, a piece of dropped paper...anything at all.
He’d just finished a preliminary search of the perimeter when the horses began to shift their weight back and forth, shaking their heads. Brenik snorted and stamped his feet.
“What’s up, buddy?” He took the reins and stroked the animal’s neck. “Hold tight, we’ll be done soon—”
The crunch of movement across the forest floor froze Sam’s hand midstroke. Who else could possibly be out here? There were no cars allowed on the road, and he didn’t figure grizzlies would be awake and wandering around at this time of day—plus, it wasn’t as if he’d been quiet while trampling around the site and searching for clues.
The crunching noise was joined by a low, rumbling hum that quickly grew louder. An engine? Was someone riding a dirt bike on the trails at seven in the morning? He glanced at Kara, who stood and looked at him, perplexed—and then as suddenly as the sound began it stopped. Sam touched the Taser on his belt, but his shoulders dropped with
