The footprints disappeared abruptly. Montelongo had left the trail. Tempe paused, alert for any sound. The night birds and crickets were still, he wasn't far ahead. Had he stopped to listen just like she had?
     Moving the beam of her flashlight slowly to the side of the trail, she grass flattened to the size of the prints she'd been following. A few rocks looked as though they'd been disturbed. Certain this was the direction her quarry had gone, she set off after him.
      The tracks through the grass were not as easily followed as the clear depressions Montelongo's boots made in the damp earth of the path. Tempe moved slowly, watching for anything that looked different or out of place.
      It was surprisingly easy until she reached the river. Because she could see no evidence of his progress along the bank in either direction, he must have crossed to the other side. Picking up the trail on the opposite bank would not be simple.
      There was no way of knowing if he had waded a few steps before coming ashore.  Shining the flashlight up and down stream, Tempe eliminated the possibility that he was still in the water.
      Because it rained only once after a summer of a few brief, random thunder showers, the river was still moderately low and slow moving. Tempe crossed on a natural rock bridge--guessing that Montelongo had done the same.
      When she reached the bank, she shined the beam along the edge checking for footprints in the mud. The faster she pushed him the less careful he'd be.
      It didn't take long to find a slight depression made by a boot several yards down stream, and a freshly broken twig on a manzanita bush. She smiled. She hadn't lost Montelongo.
      Following the only break in the thick undergrowth, Tempe hurried, depending on her flashlight beam to locate signs that Montelongo had passed that way.
      A feeling of harmony with the surroundings settled upon her. It was the first time she'd ever tracked a person in the wilderness, and the ease with which she was able to do it made her briefly wonder if it had anything to do with her Yanduchi genes.
      A scruffy coyote, tail between its legs, appeared in front of her. Illuminated by the beam of her flashlight, the animal stared at her momentarily, before skulking off into the underbrush.
      Tempe remembered something a Yanduchi friend had told her. A coyote crossing one's path was a sign something bad was about to happen. Bad for Montelongo, she trusted, not her.
      Once again an owl swooped down in front of her, not even pausing as it snatched a mouse from the ground and lifted on wing beats to disappear into the trees.
      The memory of Nick Two John's answer when she asked him what the sudden appearance of an owl meant, caused her to shudder. Death.
      In this case it surely meant the death of the mouse -- hopefully the only significance.
      The owl's departure brought back the memory of swirling blue feathers of the gown worn by the shaman on that turning-point night during the summer.
      The scent of smoke from a faraway chimney reminded her of the ceremonial fire.  The rhythmic thump of her own heart was like the drum from that night.
      A silvery mist rising from the damp earth swirled around her. The mist changed shape, taking on substance -- becoming a giant bird. Tempe wasn't sure if it were real or conjured by her imagination. The wing span, large as a condor's, blocked her view of the evening sky.  But no, despite the size, the blue of the
feathers was that of a heron.
      Tempe heard the voice of the shaman. "Open yourself ... allow the Creator to guide you."
      The heron immediately faded from view, and she remembered how resolution for Hutch's problem began when he turned to the Lord. Convinced that the Creator of the ancient Indian religion and the God her husband worshiped were one and the same, Tempe lifted her eyes toward the heavens and prayed. "Dear Lord, Creator of all things, lead me in the correct path. Help me to discover the truth."
      Thunder rumbled higher in the mountains. Tempe hoped it wouldn't rain until after she caught up with Montelongo.  
      Keeping up a good pace, she continued after him. Tracks in the grass and mud headed away from the river then looped around until they headed back toward the house. Tempe guessed he would return there.
      At the sound of branches rustling, she broke into a trot. Bursting through the bushes, she expected to see Lorenzo. Instead, her flashlight outlined the bulky shape of a black bear, squatting on his haunches, eating an apple from the untended orchard.
      Tempe automatically reached for her revolver, and felt her heart pound. Sweat turned cold on her forehead, and an involuntary shiver ripped through her.
      The apple fell from the bear's mouth and bounced on the thick mat of leaves and weeds at the base of the tree trunk. The beast appeared no more interested than she in having a confrontation. He dropped onto all fours and lumbered away.
      She followed the bear's departure with the beam of her light, listening as it crashed through the undergrowth.
      A similar sound came from the left. Was it another bear -- or Lorenzo using the bear's noisy departure to cover his own escape?
      Turning to go after him, she was attracted by a furtive movement to her right.  Had the bear changed his direction? Was it coming back to attack her?
      A dark shadow melded into the thick trunk of a cedar.
      Moving swiftly, Tempe circled the tree and pointed her gun directly at Lorenzo Montelongo. "Spread your legs and put both hands against that tree."
      Though his face was in shadow, Tempe heard fear in his voice.
      "What's this all about, Deputy?"
      "Once you do as I say, Montelongo, you can tell me what this is about."
      With a raspy exhalation, he complied. While she patted him down, he asked, "Are you arresting me or what?"
      "Yes, sir, that's exactly what I'm doing. You are under arrest for the murder of your wife." She recited his rights while handcuffing his wrists behind his back.
      Before she could finish, he gasped, "Is that what this is all about? I can't believe it. I didn't kill my wife!"