Page 8 of Summer Storm (Seasons In Montana: Summer #9)
Forest for the trees
Brielle
The buckle of Rudy’s fluorescent orange ‘work’ harness snapping into place beneath her belly is all the signal Rudy needs to change from a fun-loving family pet to a highly trained operative ready to get the job done.
I give her a quick pat. She sits at attention her head slightly tilted, as if she understands every word the campground’s assistant ranger and the police officer manning the base of operations are saying as they fill Aaron and I in on the search efforts already underway.
Several groups of volunteers including the boys grandfather and rescue personnel have already been dispatched to search the trail where the two youths were last seen by a group of teenage boys.
I’m slightly irritated they didn’t wait, with so many human scents out there it will muddy the trail and possible slow us down, but I also know time is of the essence and the boys’ safety and well-being come first. In the long run it won’t really matter how many scents are out there Rudy is rockstar when it comes to search and rescue.
The assistant ranger introduces me to the boy’s grandmother, who’s stayed at the campground in case the boys return on their own, and a small group of people, mostly teenagers.
These are the witnesses who last saw the boys.
With Rudy sitting at his feet, Aaron discusses ideas, areas, and trail split-offs the boys might have taken, with the officer.
“Brenda, do you have any clothing the boys may have worn recently? Preferably without insect repellent on it? If it does that’s okay, but Rudy will work faster without the chemical interference.”
“Why yes, of course. I’ll be right back.” She looks determined as she trots toward the area assigned to RVs and not tents. I’ve seen it a hundred times before; how the family members of the missing are so grateful to have something, anything, to do to help.
While she’s gone, I walk back to Aaron’s truck and dig into the front pocket of my survival gear and rucksack.
I pull out two orange vests and two whistles.
After slipping into a vest I attach one of the whistles to an O-ring on the vest. When Aaron notices what I’m doing he and Rudy follow me.
I hand him the other vest and whistle. When I see Brenda hurrying back toward us, I remove a vinyl resealable storage bag from the same pocket and open it up.
“Will these pajama pants be okay?” Her bottom lip trembles as she anxiously meets my gaze.
“It’s perfect. Put them in here, please.” Holding open the vinyl bag, I wait until she’s shoved them inside and then zip the seal together. I reach for my pack, but Aaron beats me to it. As he lifts it, he gives me a considering look but doesn’t say anything as he helps me slip it on.
“It’s okay, it’ll get lighter the longer we’re out there.
Half the weight is water.” I’m carrying three gallons, but with all of us drinking, it’ll go down quickly.
I eye the larger pack he lifts out of the back of his truck.
I’m not sure why he’s worried about how much weight I’m carrying.
For crying out loud, it only took him a few minutes to prepare.
What does he have stuffed in it? “You got the kitchen sink in there?” I tease.
“Scout’s motto, baby. Be prepared.” He grins as he swings the pack onto his back with ease.
“Humph. I doubt you were ever a Boy Scout.” I admire the contour of his muscles in his arms as he settles the pack into a more comfortable position.
“Yeah, you’ve got me there, but I do have friends. Even though I haven’t gotten out this year with the filming of the show cutting into our free time, we like to take off at a moment’s notice to do some rough country hiking and treasure hunting.
“Treasure hunting? Like diamonds or gold?”
“Gold, yes, but also sapphires, agates, quartz, and some fossils too. How’d you move to Montana and not know we’re called ‘the treasure state’?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug, as he snaps the sternum strap into place. “Ready?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Alright, let’s go. We set off at a steady pace.
Roughly a half a mile up the main trail we reach the small clearing where the trail splits off into three more, although one of them looks little used as underbrush and new grown seem to be taking it over.
The group of teenagers keep pace with us.
They have no supplies with them and I’m reluctant to let them follow us much further.
Despite the urgency of two missing boys, the aroma of pine and earth is soothing to my senses. I let Rudy off his lead and open the vinyl bag I’ve been carrying.
“Rudy, scent.” Rudy sticks his muzzle into the bag of clothing and begins sniffing. This part always makes me smile. I call it the vacuum he makes so much nose sniffing up all that information.
“What’s that going to do?” One of the teens asks.
“Dogs have about three hundred million olfactory receptors in their noses. Part of Rudy’s brain is devoted to analyzing smells.
He’s gathering information through his nose that’s at least forty times greater than any human ever could and he loves doing it.
It’s like a puzzle for him. He’ll lock onto the scent he’s been commanded to find and then he’ll follow it. ”
We watch as he pulls his head out of the bag and then begins casting around the area. As he nears the group, one of the boys reaches out to pet him.
“Hey, man. Stop. Read the vest, he’s working,” Aaron orders before I can.
“Whatever,” the kid argues. “Looks like your dog is defective. He’s going in the wrong eff’ing direction.”
“Let’s go man, this is stupid. One old dog ain’t gonna find shit.” Another announces, sullenly. The others grumble their assent, turning back toward the campground. I disagree but I keep my mouth closed.
Aaron and I watch the boys disappear down the trail. “What do you think?”
“I think Rudy has been all over the world and found people buried beneath the rubble of earthquakes and stuck in mudslides caused by monsoons. I trust his instincts and nose a hell of a lot more than those teenage turds; he hasn’t let me down yet.”
“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking too. Get the lead out pretty lady.” He points to a lesser-used path where Rudy is waiting for his next command. It doesn’t escape my notice that the trail the Rudy has chosen, isn’t heading in the one they pointed everyone else to.
Catching up with my dog, I hold the vinyl bag out to him again and give him the go ahead.
“Rudy, search.”