Reunion in the Rockies

By Duane Ramsey

Author Daniel Decker is secluded in a cabin nestled in the Rocky Mountains to write his next novel. Rescuing the victim of a skiing accident, he discovers the woman is Karen Archer, whom he knew from college. This reunion in the Rockies rekindles the flame of love in his heart for her and inspires him to write a book about the rescue and ensuing relationships. He also hopes to capture the love of his life with it. An interesting twist develops as things that happened to the characters in his book begin to occur in reality.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 22, 2002
• ISBN: 9781465329264

Duane Ramsey

Duane Ramsey has written a sequel to Reunion In The Rockies and begun a third in the series about the same characters. Cover Design by Ronda Raymond Cover Photography by Mary Jane Shand

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

The Fateful Encounter

The sun was beginning to rise above the towering peaks of the Rocky Mountains to the east. An icy wind whipped through the small village nestled in the valley below. Ominous clusters of clouds approached from the northwest. Mother Nature was preparing to pull another winter blanket across western Wyoming.

The village of Pinedale was cradled in a secluded valley just south of Gannett Peak, the highest point in the state at 13,804 feet. A single two-lane highway connected Pinedale with the rest of civilization. Fremont Lake stretched from the outskirts of the village north to the White Pines winter sports and recreation area.

It was part of the Shoshone National Forest along the great Continental Divide extending south from Yellowstone and Grand Teton National Parks. A large winter recreation region ran from Teton Village and Jackson Hole along the Snake River south to Pinedale.

The village seemed deserted on this crisp Sunday morning. The silence of a new day was broken by the sound of a small engine. A snowmobile proceeded down a mountain trail and across the snow-covered mesa toward the sleeping village.

The man riding the snowmobile was a stranger to most of the inhabitants of Pinedale. He had arrived recently from the Midwest following the Christmas and New Year holidays. Although only one person had met him, people knew his name, occupation, and a few other facts about him.

Old Bud Peterson, owner of a small store and restaurant in the village, talked to the stranger upon his arrival in Pinedale. Being a friendly old pioneer, Bud learned some general facts about the man during their initial conversation. A few days later, the visitor, a writer, was the talk of the town.

Bud was sorry he had told anyone about the man. One morning, the mayor of Pinedale paid Bud a visit at his business. It was uncommon for the mayor to come to his quaint cafe. He usually dined in the cafe at the hotel up on the highway.

The mayor questioned him about this writer fellow who had recently come to town. Old Bud poured the mayor a cup of coffee and invited him to sit down. Pinedale’s oldest living inhabitant put all of the rumors to rest, slowly sharing his entire knowledge about the stranger.

Lemme straighten ya out about this city fella, he began. I guess I must have started all the talk about this here writer who came to Pinedale.

Some famous author, exclaimed the mayor. I never heard of Daniel Decker and no one else around here ever has either.

Don’t blame me, mayor. I never said he was a famous writer. Folks in these parts don’t hear much about people in his line of work. How would we know if he is famous? The man told me he had three books published. Maybe they were best sellers, who knows?

The mayor had visions of putting Pinedale on the map with a famous author living in their midst. He was very disappointed that Dan was not likely to be the celebrity to make Pinedale as well known as Aspen or Vail in Colorado. The mayor abruptly left the restaurant without even offering to pay for the cup of coffee.

The snowmobile presently churned down the road leading to the old stone church on the edge of the village. A large Irish Setter followed on foot in the vehicle’s path. Several local citizens were walking up the steps to the entrance as it approached. They turned to stare at the man driving toward them.

These people surmised that he must be Dan Decker, that writer they had heard about. One woman wanted to approach him and ask for his autograph, just in case he was famous. Her husband grabbed her by the arm and quickly ushered her into the church.

The stranger parked the snowmobile near the entrance to the church. His faithful dog waited patiently next to the vehicle after his master went inside. The red setter didn’t move or make a sound as several more people cautiously filed past the animal into the place of worship.

Dan Decker sat in a pew by himself near the front. Many residents who had heard about him through the town grapevine noticed an unusual serenity about this stranger. Dan was unaware that he was being observed so closely. He reverently participated in the Sunday services.

A picture of the church in his hometown appeared clearly in his mind and he mentally compared the two. This mountain church was much older than the more modern structure he remembered from his youth at home. This church was simple and unadorned, yet comforting to his troubled spirit. Beauty was not necessary for worship, he decided.

Dan felt a warm glow inside his body as he later left the old church. The loyal Irish Setter was excited to see his master again. Dan stooped to give his canine companion an affectionate hug. He reached into a compartment on the snowmobile producing a king-size dog biscuit. The dog showed its appreciation by licking his hand before taking the bone.

That’s a good boy, St. Pat, he said.

What an appropriate name for an Irish Setter, came a voice from above.

Dan turned to see the pastor standing at the top of the church steps. He came down to talk to the visitor. Of course, the priest was just as curious about the newcomer as everyone else. St. Pat lay down next to the vehicle and began devouring the treat, as his master turned to the pastor.

You must be Dan Decker, the writer everyone in Pinedale is talking about, the pastor said.

I am Dan Decker, but didn’t realize I was the talk of the town, he replied with a chuckle.

The clergyman warned Dan that he had become the latest subject of the town’s grapevine. The pastor introduced himself to the writer and told him that his door was always open if he wanted to talk to someone. Dan briefly explained his situation to Father Kelly who appreciated his openness but also respected his privacy.

Dan thanked him for his kindness and headed toward the store and restaurant with St. Pat at his side. The silver-haired proprietor warmly greeted this early customer. Dan strolled over to the corner booth and sat down. Old Bud promptly came to take his order.

Where’s that pretty young lady who usually takes my order? asked Dan with a chuckle.

Well, I imagine that granddaughter of mine is jist gittin’ up fer church, came his reply from beneath the bed of gray whiskers. What brings you into town so early?

I heard we’re in for some rough weather and I didn’t want to get caught in a blizzard without enough supplies.

You heard what . . . are you goin’ loco already . . . hearin’ things up in them hills? exclaimed the old gentleman.

No, I have a portable radio and I can pick up a station in Salt Lake City at night, Dan replied with a hearty laugh. That reminds me, I need some batteries for my radio.

We’ll get your batteries and other supplies after you’ve had your breakfast, replied Old Bud, who wrote down his order and hurried back into the kitchen.

He brought Dan’s coffee and breakfast to him in short order. At the author’s invitation, Bud joined him for a cup of coffee. After exchanging pleasantries, Bud informed Dan of the mayor’s visit and his inquiries about him. He apologized to the writer for revealing his identity.

When that man was elected, he promised to put Pinedale on the map, the old timer said with a chortle. He never misses an angle or opportunity to attempt to fulfill that promise.

Bud was sure that he was responsible for the leak. He had mentioned a word about Dan only to a few folks since the author had arrived in Pinedale. All of a sudden, half the town was pumping him for more information about the writer. The grapevine and gossips in the small town were responsible for the rest.

I’m sorry to disappoint your mayor, Bud, he remarked.

Dan was not really disturbed upon discovering the leak about his identity. Nobody knew him there. He wasn’t the famous author they thought him to be. He was sure that no one in Pinedale had ever heard of or read anything written by him. He had just come to the mountain village to work on another book.

Dan ate his breakfast while Old Bud served some of his other customers. After finishing his meal, he selected the supplies he needed for the upcoming week, including batteries for his portable radio. He wanted to get back to his mountain hideaway before the snowstorm predicted blew into western Wyoming.

Bud helped him pack his supplies on the snowmobile. Dan thanked him, waved good-bye, and mounted the vehicle to depart. Old Bud watched the snowmobile glide down the road with St. Pat sitting behind his master. He was as curious about this visitor as everyone else, but refused to pry into the man’s privacy.

It had been two years since the publication of Dan Decker’s previous book. His publisher had been pressuring him to develop an idea for another successful story before the readers who had made him a success forgot him. Dan had struggled with many concepts for his next novel, but nothing seemed to satisfy his high standards.

His concerned publisher and good friend, Frank Fisher, had finally convinced Dan to escape to the secluded wilderness of Wyoming. Dan still wondered, however, what he was doing there in the middle of winter. Frank hoped that the locale would help inspire another literary creation. To Dan, it was just cold.

A lot had happened to Dan in those two years that seriously had affected his life. Following the publication of his third novel, he was touring the country to promote it through personal appearances in bookstores. He enjoyed traveling to different cities across the country and didn’t mind signing copies of his book for the people responsible for his comfortable lifestyle.

Dan had always been extremely close to his family, so it was difficult for him not to see them as much as he would have liked. His writing career took him away from his family and his hometown of Dayton, Ohio. He had learned to value every opportunity to spend time with his parents and relatives.

Unfortunately, one of his worst fears became reality during his trip that spring. The fateful phone call came in the middle of the night. Dan knew the instant he heard the serious tone of his brother’s voice that something was terribly wrong. Their father had suffered a fatal heart attack. Dan was shocked by the tragic news and realized he would never see his dad alive again.

Dan had immediately thought of the last time that he had seen his father. He was relieved to recall that their last encounter had been a pleasant one. He had been unable to spend much time with his family due to the lengthy work on his third book that fall.

He had talked his parents into going to Arizona with him during the previous Christmas holidays. They spent an enjoyable holiday with his father’s sister and her family in the Phoenix area. His Aunt Margaret, who was also his godmother, was very special to him. Of course, Dan had no way of knowing that would be his last time together with his parents before his father’s death.

This painful personal loss just didn’t seem possible. It was a bitter reality that he refused to accept. He kept denying its occurrence as he rushed home for the funeral. Other than his grandparents, he had never lost anyone so close to him. Dan was devastated by the realization that he would never see his dad alive again. He had mourned silently throughout the agonizing flight home.

It was extremely difficult for the entire Decker family . . . his mother, sister, brother, their spouses and the four grandchildren. His father had a history of heart problems, having survived two previous attacks. He had been looking forward to his retirement, but never lived long enough to enjoy it.

Dan spent several weeks at home following his dad’s death, helping his mother cope with the loss and handle his father’s estate. As the eldest of the Decker children, he had been named executor of the will. It was not an easy task for him.

Dan’s parents still lived in the two-story frame house in Dayton where they had raised their three children. His sister, Linda, was two years younger and his brother, Mike, four years younger. All of the children had left the nest, leaving their mother Paula home alone after Ralph’s sudden death. Mom was pleased to have her eldest son at home with her, even if she knew it was only temporary.

Linda was married to a veterinarian, Jeff Robinson, whom she had met in college at Ohio State. They got married immediately following their graduation. Jeff completed veterinary school there and joined a practice in a small town north of Columbus.

Linda and Jeff had three children. Steven was now six years old; Rachel was four, and Amy almost two. They lived in a large house in the country with a menagerie of various animals ranging from exotic birds to horses. It was typical for the country vet with a soft spot for any abandoned or injured creature.

Dan and Linda always had a close sibling relationship. She followed her older brother through the same elementary and high schools, then to college at Ohio State. He never had to protect his sister. She was always able to take care of herself. She had confided in Dan many times during their childhood and adolescence. He cherished his sister and her family.

Mike had married his high school sweetheart, Sandy, who was a nurse. They had a three-year old son named David and she was expecting their second child in June. As a former jock in high school and college, Mike now taught school and coached football at Kettering High outside Dayton where they lived.

Dan was blessed with his talent for creative writing, while Mike was the athlete of the family. Mike was not talented enough to get an athletic scholarship at Ohio State, so he opted to play football and run track for the University of Dayton.

Mike was always better than his older brother at every sport except golf. With his perseverance and putting skills, Dan usually prevailed over Mike’s athletic ability and raw power on the golf course. They had a competitive, yet close relationship.

It would be two years in March since he had lost his father, yet he still longed to talk to him one more time. They had become close friends, as well as father and son, since Dan had graduated from college. They attended athletic events, went golfing, and shared many other experiences whenever Dan was in town.

Ralph Decker had been so proud of his son, who had dreamed of becoming a published author. His parents were thrilled for their son when his first book was published. Dan was the subject of a feature article in the Dayton Daily News, interviewed on local radio and television talk shows, and treated like a hometown hero.

The young author had been determined to maintain his humility despite the fanfare he had received. His sports novels were fictional but based on actual experiences with coaches and athletes during his life. The stories were dramatic and poignant accounts of the struggles of many college competitors whom he had known when he was a sportswriter and columnist at Ohio State.

Despite fulfilling a lifelong dream of becoming a successful author, something still seemed to be missing from his life. Since losing his father, Dan felt yet another void in his heart. Any passion for a member of the opposite sex had been absent from his life for quite some time.

His last relationship with a woman eventually became a casualty of his extended absence following his father’s funeral. There was little time to develop any meaningful relationships with all of the time he spent traveling to research, write and promote his books. Dan was single and he saw no realistic prospects for romance during the middle of winter in the wilderness of Wyoming.

Dan followed the snow-covered road through the valley heading into the mountains. It ran along the south shore of Fremont Lake, frozen for the winter. He saw the main lodge of the White Pine ski resort set up on the mountainside to the north. There were many skiers gliding down the slopes and returning to the top on the lifts. They seemed to ignore the snow and dark clouds blowing in from the west.

He turned off the road below the ski lodge and down the trail heading east toward the mountain pass. As he entered the valley, a group of skiers came into view on the north slope.

Dan could hear their loud laughter over the whistling of the wind. The noise carried a greater distance in the thin mountain air. From the tone of their laughter and voices, it sounded like a group of women. He was surprised to see these skiers heading away from the lodge with the winter storm warning for heavy snow, high winds and blizzard-like conditions. He only hoped they had enough sense to get back to the lodge before the storm got worse.

The four female skiers were frolicking at the top of one slope as the snowmobile crossed about a hundred yards below them. One of the women, wearing a bright red ski jacket and a stocking hat that hung down below her waist, stood out above the others. Dan shook his head in dismay as they disappeared from his view.

The four young ladies were enjoying a short ski trip before school resumed for the second semester. They were teachers at Catholic Central High School in South Bend, Indiana. After grading first semester exams for three days, they had embarked on a four-day ski trip, which they had been planning since the school year began.

The teachers had flown out to Wyoming with reservations at the White Pine resort near Pinedale. As a winter recreation and ski resort, it had one unique feature. Visitors could enjoy skiing and other winter activities on the snow-covered mountains, yet later enjoy a relaxing swim. The luxurious pool was enclosed under a heated glass dome. When it was below freezing outdoors, people would be swimming in a comfortable 70 degrees inside.

These teachers had already enjoyed two-and-a-half days of skiing and swimming at the lodge. They wanted to enjoy one last fling on the slopes before they returned to their jobs in Indiana. They had disregarded the weather warnings when they left the lodge. It was blowing and snowing wildly as the winter storm intensified, but the fearless foursome ignored it all.

Brenda Jordan, 28 and single, was the most out-going of the four women. She had been engaged several times but the flashy redhead had never found Mr. Right. She was a vivacious, fun-loving woman who never hesitated to flirt with a handsome man.

Of all subjects, she taught English and literature. Her students always seemed to enjoy her classes, as she had a unique manner of handling teenagers that astonished her peers. Brenda was raised in Battle Creek, Michigan, and graduated from Western Michigan University in Kalamazoo.

Connie Snyder, the oldest of the group at 32, was a quiet, intellectual brunette who was known as the brain of the bunch. She taught several business courses and was always talking about her successful investments.

She was married to a lawyer named Bill. Having no children, they had plenty of money to invest. Connie was a native of Fort Wayne, Indiana; who graduated from Purdue University, magna cum laude and later earned an MBA there.

Shirley Horton, the youngest of the group at 25, was in her second year of teaching social studies. She was an exquisite-looking blonde with a great figure who always attracted the most attention from the men.

Shirley was a California girl who had graduated from UCLA. She was single, but engaged to be married in June to Mr. All America, a former athlete at UCLA who was now working as an assistant football coach at Notre Dame.

Her roommate, Karen Archer, was the final member of the foursome. Single and 29, she almost married once, but knew it would have been the mistake of her life. She was a bright, charming woman whose best attribute was probably her pleasant personality.

Karen taught journalism and also served as advisor to the student newspaper and yearbook. She was a native of Toledo, Ohio, and a graduate of Ohio State University.

Brenda seemed to have built-in radar for men and was always teased for being the biggest flirt of the foursome. She was the one who first spotted the man on the snowmobile on the trail below them. She was ready to take-off down the slope to get a closer look at this male specimen before she was reprimanded.

Listen, Brenda, this is our last afternoon here. It‘s too late to hustle another man, scolded Connie.

Don‘t be such a square, retorted Brenda in fun.

Connie started down the trail, followed by Karen and Shirley.

However, Brenda bolted down the slope toward the stranger in the snowmobile. St. Pat heard the skier and barked a warning signal. As Dan looked over his shoulder, the skier nearly ran into the side of the vehicle. He brought it to an abrupt stop to avoid hitting her.

I‘m sorry, I didn‘t see you coming, miss, Dan apologized.

No, it was my fault. I just lost control on these things, the woman fibbed as she stopped on her skis and stared at him.

Pardon me for staring, but I noticed your bundles and realized you weren‘t riding this thing for fun. I was just curious.

Dan was unconsciously observing this forward young lady as he listened to her story. Many writers have a casual manner of evaluating people and their character in ordinary conversation. He was effectively using this unique talent to detect the woman who was attempting to check him out without his realizing her scheme.

Excuse me. My name is Brenda Jordan and I always admire a man of adventure. Do you live out here?

You could say that, he replied, but just temporarily.

Are you a camper, hunter or ski enthusiast? she asked.

Not really any of those, he said reluctantly, realizing he had left himself open for more questions.

I hope you don‘t think I‘m too nosy. It‘s just that I find adventurous men so exciting, Brenda said with a smile.

I hope that you and your friends watch this weather closely so you won‘t get caught in the snowstorm, he warned.

Oh, don‘t worry about us. We can take care of ourselves, she shot back at him as she pushed off on her skis.

Boy, some hustler he turned out to be, thought Brenda as she rejoined her three friends on the trail. And he was nice looking too, she admitted. Oh, well, they were leaving for South Bend in a few hours anyway and she would never see him again.

When are you going out with him, Brenda? asked Shirley, teasing her flirtatious friend.

Some swinger he was. I didn‘t even get his name. I usually manage to squeeze that out of my victims, she said with a laugh. He was one of the most disinterested males I‘ve ever encountered. Too bad he‘s such a square because he was a good looking guy.

Her companions laughed at Brenda‘s response to the rejection. The ladies skied further along the slope as the snowmobile headed down the trail toward the other side of the mountain. The women were determined to enjoy the winter paradise as much as possible before returning to the flat land of Indiana.

Dan was satisfied to keep his identity a secret, not that he was a famous writer whose name she might have recognized. He had come to the secluded cabin in the Rocky Mountains to escape the city life and people. He needed to work on his next book, not pick-up women. He was content to be alone with his faithful dog and concentrate on writing another successful novel. It hadn‘t been easy to resist a flirtatious redhead like Brenda, however.

His first three novels had been written while he worked as a syndicated columnist for several sports publications. They were published several months after their completion with no deadlines. He recently had given up his column to write something more significant, yet different from his previous sports books.

For the first time in his career, Dan was under pressure from the publisher to finish a novel in a specified length of time. He had written sports articles and columns under deadline, but he‘d never faced this kind of literary challenge.

At the moment, the beauty and majesty of the Rockies entranced him. He had covered sports events across the country, but this was his first trip to the continental divide. He realized that he would never stop admiring the imaginative design and molding of these wonders by the forces of nature.

The snow and wind began to blow fiercely as the snowmobile sputtered down the slope toward the pass. The cabin was located in a clearing on the other side of it. Dan was thankful that they were close to their destination, as the storm intensified making their travel more arduous.

As they wound through the woods on the trail, St. Pat became restless and shifted nervously. Dan tried to calm him, totally unaware that his companion sensed something strange other than the weather around them. St. Pat carefully watched the wooded landscape to their right.

The dog suddenly leaped from the snowmobile, dashed through the snow and disappeared into a clump of pine trees. Dan stopped the vehicle and called his dog. He could not see St. Pat but could hear him barking. Dan followed the noise, figuring his friend had probably chased some furry creature into the woods.

The setter made himself visible, barked demandingly and then darted behind some trees. Dan followed him, wondering just what St. Pat had discovered. He found the dog standing next to a body lying motionless in the snow.

It was bundled in a bright ski jacket like one of the women in the foursome he had seen. He carefully rolled the victim over, and brushed the snow from her face. The writer gasped in shock as he revealed her identity.

Karen Archer, he exclaimed aloud!

He couldn‘t believe his eyes. The victim was a close friend from his college days at Ohio State. Dan had not seen Karen in several years and finding her in such a predicament was a severe shock. She must have been one of the four female skiers he had observed earlier.

Dan checked her pulse and was grateful to find it was still beating. She was unconscious and breathing so shallow it could hardly be detected. Thank God she is still alive, he thought.

He carefully checked for injuries, finding a bad bump on her head. Upon examining her limbs, Dan noticed that the calf of her left leg was swollen. Her leg was probably broken, he surmised from his first aid training in the Boy Scouts years ago.

Dan looked around for any sign of her companions, but saw or heard nothing. He called out several times but received no reply. How had she gotten separated from the others and wound up at the bottom of this steep slope? Dan saw one of her skis nearby.

He realized that he needed to get her back to the snowmobile on the trail immediately, but wasn‘t sure he could carry her that far. He commanded his dog to stay there as he hurried back to the snowmobile with her ski in his hand.

He stuck the ski in the snow next to the trail to mark the spot where he had found her. A rescue party would eventually be searching for her. He was able to drive the vehicle around to the edge of the trees, as close as he could get to the victim. His faithful companion had waited with her as he had commanded.

Being very careful of her left leg, he managed to pick her up and carry her to the snowmobile. He cautiously laid her body on the snowmobile. Dan decided to leave her other ski and poles at the scene of the accident. With her head in his lap, he could still drive the snowmobile as St. Pat followed closely on foot.

The ominous dark clouds hovered over the landscape, making it difficult to distinguish where the mountains stopped and the sky began. Upon maneuvering back to the trail, he noticed that the wind and snow had increased in intensity. The snow was falling so heavily that visibility was reduced to only a few yards. The icy wind was biting at his face as Dan contemplated his next move.

He realized the weather had gotten much worse while he had rescued the victim of the skiing accident. The lodge was only a few miles away, but the cabin was less than a mile down the trail on the other side of the mountain pass. It would be much easier to travel downhill to the cabin with the wind at his back.

Dan headed the vehicle toward the cabin with Karen‘s head lying in his lap. He brushed the snow away from her face again. She was still unconscious and he prayed that she was still alive. Traveling in the snowmobile became more difficult due to the snow that was accumulating quickly.

St. Pat laboriously trudged through the snow following the snowmobile. Dan periodically called out his name to insure the whereabouts of his Irish Setter. The dog answered with a single bark and continued to follow him slowly. After all, his dog had discovered the victim and made this rescue possible.

Dan wondered how Karen had become separated from the other women. He knew that they wouldn‘t have just left her out in the wilderness. She must have gotten lost, fallen down the steep slope and hit a tree. He hoped the others weren‘t still looking for her and had made it back to the lodge safely.

When they finally reached the cabin, he drove the vehicle up to the front porch. How was he going to get her inside without causing further injury, he wondered? He noticed an old sled with runners setting against the cabin near the woodpile.

He got the sled and set it up against the snowmobile. Dan slid the victim from the vehicle and onto the sled. He pulled it up the single step onto the porch and into the cabin. He quickly carried the supplies inside and parked the snowmobile in the shed.

Dan prepared the bed near the fireplace to lay Karen on it. He struggled to lift her from the sled and laid her on the bed. He removed the wet ski jacket, pants, hat and gloves, moving her leg as little as possible. Dan was relieved that her clothes were still dry so he did not have to remove them, too. He covered her with a wool blanket and down-filled bedspread.

He started a fire in the stone hearth to warm the log cabin. Dan examined her head and leg injuries again. He put some snow in a plastic bag and applied the cold compress to the bump and bruise on her forehead.

Dan knew that he should put a splint on the leg he suspected was broken. He removed two flat boards from the railing of the porch, tore some rags into strips and secured the splints to her left leg. It was still very swollen, but there was no external bleeding or any sign of broken bones puncturing the skin.

For a moment, he stood there staring at Karen‘s motionless figure on the bed. Dan had always told himself that he would recognize her anywhere. He now hoped and prayed that she would survive this trauma, not knowing just how serious her head injury was.

His