Green Valley: A Thunder Mountain Novel: Thunder Mountain

By Dean Wesley Smith

Sage Green accidently finds in a satellite photo the ruins of an old log cabin and a stable in a high mountain valley in the Central Idaho wilderness. Nothing unusual except no entrance exists into that valley.

Mike Hawthorne, on some of his many trips into the past, used to camp and prospect right below that valley without knowing it was there.

With Mike Hawthorne, Sage Green must travel back to find out how to get into that valley, why that cabin and stable exist, and who built them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WMG Publishing
• Release date: Mar 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201762421

Dean Wesley Smith

Considered one of the most prolific writers working in modern fiction, USA TODAY bestselling writer, Dean Wesley Smith published far over a hundred novels in forty years, and hundreds of short stories across many genres. He currently produces novels in four major series, including the time travel Thunder Mountain novels set in the old west, the galaxy-spanning Seeders Universe series, the urban fantasy Ghost of a Chance series, and the superhero series staring Poker Boy. During his career he also wrote a couple dozen Star Trek novels, the only two original Men in Black novels, Spider-Man and X-Men novels, plus novels set in gaming and television worlds.

Book preview

INTRODUCTION

Sage Green accidently finds in a satellite photo the ruins of an old log cabin and a stable in a high mountain valley in the Central Idaho wilderness. Nothing unusual except no entrance exists into that valley.

Mike Hawthorne, on some of his many trips into the past, used to camp and prospect right below that valley without knowing it was there.

With Mike Hawthorne, Sage Green must travel back to find out how to get into that valley, why that cabin and stable exist, and who built them.

PART I

A HIDDEN WORLD

1

August 10 th, 2019

Boise, Idaho

Sage Green paused and tried not to hold her breath outside of Director Parks’ dark mahogany office door on the second floor of the main Historical Institute building. The old polished oak floor squeaked under her feet with no real threat, just a subtle reminder of the age of the light tan walls and old Victorian home that surrounded her.

More than anything she loved the dark oak trim and wainscoting that was so typical of a home from the Victorian era.

That had been an awe-inspiring age.

She forced herself to breathe, simple normal breaths, because holding her breath always made her face red and with her bright red hair, when her face got red she looked like a walking cherry with clothes. Or as one former boyfriend put it, a pimple that needed popping.

He wondered why he was suddenly an ex-boyfriend. Go figure.

Breathe, she said softly to herself.

The hallway was narrow like an old mining tunnel, the ceiling high, which made the hall seem even narrower. The crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling every ten paces were stark reminders of a glory time Sage only studied. And even more frightening, they looked like they were made of real crystals. She didn’t want to think about the money for those babies.

She loved the fact that a historical institute used a Victorian mansion as its main building, maintaining the entire grounds and interiors in exacting detail so perfect that she felt like she had stepped back in time once she walked through the front metal gate.

Just coming to this building excited her. Seeing Director Parks on the other hand scared her into holding her breath.

Breathe, she said again softly.

She hadn’t really dressed up for this meeting, staying in her jeans and white cotton blouse with her sleeves rolled up. She had managed to at least comb her short red hair, but that was it. She just hoped she wouldn’t regret not at least trying to dress up some, but it just wasn’t her style. She loved being alone, working on her projects, being comfortable. Not meetings.

Calm the fuck down, she said softly. Breathe.

After a few long, slow breaths, she could feel the flush leaving her face.

Director Parks’ office had been a large bedroom of the old Victorian building and even the director’s decorative dark maple desk fit the time period when the home was built. But Sage had no doubt the desk had been modified to hold all sorts of modern equipment.

She had only been in the office once before, when she was accepted as a research fellow here a year ago. She had been so nervous, she hadn’t looked around much at all, but that wide expanse of beautiful wood of his desk had caught her attention, since her file was the only thing on it, sitting there looking like a lost baby duckling on a calm lake.

In her year here at the Institute in Boise, Idaho, doing research, she had discovered there were many hidden things about the Institute, including how the Institute was funded. No one seemed to have a clue.

And after a couple of questions with no answers, she decided it was just better to keep her head down and do what she was here to do, and that was research family life in old mining communities of the Pacific Northwest.

For the year she had lived in a beautiful modern condo right on the Boise River that the Institute owned and had given to her to use for free. She had a large office in a stunning state-of-the-art glass-walled library, and all her expenses were paid.

On top of that, she was paid money every month just for expenses she didn’t have since the Institute also paid for all food and supplies. She banked it all.

She wanted to ask What the hell is going on? But had quickly learned once again to not question, just enjoy and get work done.

And wow had she.

A year’s worth of wonderful work on her next book about the living and family situation of miners in the West.

It had been a treasured year of deep research. And they had just left her alone, which she had loved more than she could say. Her ideal was a nice place to stay, lots of books and research, and no one bothering her. She had all of that this last year.

She hoped to do another year, actually, and had filed for it and no one had complained in the slightest, just approved it. And the Institute didn’t even want to be mentioned in her book or thanked and wanted nothing to do with the copyright of her book.

This fairy-tale world was a lot better than teaching at Stanford, that was for sure. Granted she loved teaching and the Stanford campus, but she had come to love Boise even more and was going to miss it when she had to go back to California.

And miss the fact that no one bothered her.

Actually she would miss having all day to work on her own stuff instead of having to hold the hands of far too many students with far too few brains.

She stood staring at Director Parks’ closed office door, forcing herself to just breathe normally. She was winning that battle. She bet her face was only slightly pink.

She had asked for this meeting with Director Parks because of something she had found on an aerial survey done of some mountains in the Frank Church Primitive Area in central Idaho Part of last year she had studied family life of miners in Yellow Pine, Edwardsburg, and Roosevelt, Idaho, all now mostly ghost towns in or on the edge of a protected primitive area.

She knew Director Parks and a number of the board members of the Institute were experts in that area of the country, so she was hoping he could help here with some answers. Maybe give her a direction to go in.

As she knocked on the big door and was told to enter, she was surprised to see a man in a long brown duster and cowboy hat standing near the tall office window and a beautiful woman with long brown hair and a wide smile sitting across from Director Parks.

Parks had a smile on his face as well. He had the chiseled look of a romance model and shoulders to match. His eyes, she was sure, could see through anything.

Dr. Sage Green, Director Parks said, I would like you to meet Bonnie and Duster Kendal. Two of our directors and experts in the central Idaho area you mentioned to me.

Page smiled at the two legends, saying she was honored to meet them.

Actually, she was a nervous as a kid in the principle’s office and she had no doubt her face was turning red. In a year here she had only heard whispered rumors of these two. She did know they were both fantastically famous mathematicians, with dozens of high-level degrees each, and they were fantastically wealthy. Maybe that answered part of the funding questions.

Bonnie and Duster’s presence seemed to command the room. She had never met any two people like them before. Duster just seemed to dominate the room with his height and long coat and hat. Like Parks, at a glance she could tell he didn’t miss much.

She normally liked powerful men and were drawn to them like a bad cliché, but these two were too powerful. She would have to think about that later.

Bonnie was amazingly beautiful and composed with a classic-beauty face and a comfort in her skin Sage admired of anyone. But Sage had no doubt you wouldn’t want to cross her. Just being in this office with these three powerful forces of nature made Sage feel even smaller, and that wasn’t like her at all. She was short in height, sure. But she never felt small.

Not ever.

Until this moment, that is.

She would have to think about that later as well.

So what do you have for us, Dr. Green? Parks asked.

She put a folder on Director Parks’s highly polished desk and opened it to a photo of a small, high-mountain valley. The photo was taken about two months ago, in late June, so the valley was bright green and lush just after snowmelt.

The photo didn’t show much more than the valley itself, something about the length of two football fields and only about a hundred paces wide before rock walls shot up into the sky around it on three sides and another cliff