Sweetness in the Dark (52 page)

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Authors: W.B. Martin

BOOK: Sweetness in the Dark
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“They were all duly tried and convicted under a military tribunal. The nation was under martial law at that time, fighting for its survival,” the President answered.

“I would like to quote a member of the new UAS House of Representatives. Congresswoman Rebecca Richards said yesterday on the floor of the House, and I quote, ‘Never in our nation’s long history has such a miscarriage of justice ever taken place,’ unquote. How do you respond?”

Paul noticed Ed’s anger rise. The initial census that Congress had ordered was just finishing its rough count. It appeared that approximately 160 million people had died from the aftereffects of ‘the Pulse’. Close to half the old United States had fallen victim; better than the 90% death rate predicted by the original Congressional Report, but still devastating.

That anyone was even now questioning the justice in incarcerating the criminals that had been responsible for many of those deaths was incredible
, Paul thought. Paul just sat amazed at it all.

The President was more confident of the nation’s mood however. “Yes, and after Ms. Richards had offered those words of wisdom, Congressman Horace Wilder, formerly Sergeant Wilder of our own Idaho 3rd Scouts, stood up in rebuttal. I’ll remind everyone that Sergeant Wilder was the man responsible for bringing the notorious Chairman Z and his henchwoman, ‘the chairwoman’, to justice. The good folks of Idaho rewarded his diligence with a seat in the House. His response was, and I quote, ‘May them all burn in hell’, unquote.”

The other members of the press all stood and clapped at the President’s remarks. The Times reporter sat down in frustration. He was finding out that the Union of American States was a very different place than the old country had been.

“Mr. President,” a woman’s voice yelled above the others. Everyone turned to look at a large woman standing at the rear of the room holding her flip notebook. The President acknowledged this new antagonist. She continued, “Margaret Streeter, Christian Press of Charleston, South Carolina. On a different subject, my readers want to know what moral standard you have in your administration.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Streeter. What are you referring to as a ‘moral standard’?”

“Mrs. Streeter, Mr. President,” the reporter corrected. “You have recently signed legislation that the Christian Caucus in Congress was instrumental in helping you pass. Since the Libertarian Caucus seems to be allied with the Christian Caucus, my readers demand to know just what moral requirements you have for your administration,” Mrs. Streeter demanded.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Streeter. I can assure you that my administration has the highest ethical and moral standards. I will remind your readers that under our new system, I do not pick my Cabinet. The members of the Cabinet are appointed by their respective bodies of Congress,” the President explained. “Consequently, they do not serve at my pleasure and can only be removed by the respective bodies that appointed them.”

“But you are responsible for the personal advisors you choose. Am I correct that they serve at your pleasure?”

“Of course. Each Cabinet member personally chooses their advisors,” the President answered. Paul stood wondering where this was leading. He quickly found out.

“Then you condone people working for you living in sin. Allowing unmarried fornicators in your administration is a serious concern and would raise questions on your judgment,” Mrs. Streeter said. “My readership encompasses much of the South and the Midwest. They would take a dim view of their representatives aligning themselves with such types.”

Paul was stunned. He looked right at Amanda who was near tears.
Was it me this woman was talking about
? he thought. Paul was afraid of the answer.

“Mrs. Streeter. My staff and advisors’ personal life is private. I haven’t taken the time nor do I intend to inquire of people’s sleeping arrangements,” the President answered. Paul could feel the tension this assertion caused him.

“Well, for your political future, maybe you need to be asking the question.”

“If that’s what our country is coming to, then my political career will be over. I will not spy on my staff. And I believe the American people will not go there either,” the President barked. He turned and left the stage.

The press all yelled questions at the departing President, to no avail. Paul realized that he was in the crosshairs now.

“Dr. Kendall, what’s the truth about this reporter’s charge? Are there fornicators in this administration?” one yelled.

It was too much for Amanda. She broke for the side door before Paul could reach her. He was stopped by the charging crush of the press who were demanding answers. John rushed over and helped rescue his brother. They both exited the side door that the President had used. The Secret Service blocked any antagonist from following.

“Mr. President, I’m very sorry about that,” Paul said.

“If they think they can get away with that, they’ve got a lesson to learn. I compromised with them over the gold standard, but if they want to ram their morality down the country’s throat, they’ve got a fight on their hands.” The President spewed to no one in particular. Noticing Paul standing beside him, he added. “You better take care of that woman of yours.”

“We didn’t mean to bring this spotlight on your administration, Sir,” Paul offered.

“Oh that. Pay no attention to the rants of the press.”

Paul looked around for Amanda. A staff member told him she had hit the door running, with tears streaking her face.

 

* * *

 

It took Paul a week of searching before he finally located her, or at least discovered where she had gone. Searching in all her old haunts, Paul finally remembered her brother worked for the Forest Service in Challis.

Driving to Challis, he had to work to get his answer. Amanda had left strict instructions with her brother that she didn’t want to see anyone and it took some male bonding to get Paul an answer. The brother finally admitted he had offered her the use of Butt’s Point Lookout Tower for a respite from any press scrutiny.

Driving north through Salmon, Paul turned left at North Fork and drove down the Salmon River. He returned to the mouth of the Middle Fork of the Salmon River where the adventure that had been the past two years really had begun. Parking at the same Corn Creek Campground where Paul had confirmed that ‘the Pulse’ had taken place, he called Salmon River Lodge on the opposite side of the river.

A small row boat was soon launched and rowed over to pick up Paul.

“Hiking up to Butt’s Point, huh?” the ranch hand asked as he ferried Paul back across.

“Yes, is it far?”

“Depends whether you’re looking at a map or not. On a flat map, don’t look too far. If you look up and see that rocky ridge way up there, it’s a fair climb.”

Paul looked straight up from the boat. “Up there? How much of a climb?”

“Better than four thousand feet. Seventy-seven switchbacks to be exact. I take the horse pack train up into Frank Church Basin each week with the dudes. Not bad, on a horse,” he offered.

Paul looked up at the monster hill in front of him. He then looked down the river canyon at the setting sun. The climb would be mostly in the dark.

“Hope you brought a flashlight, or you’re faster than you look. Not much daylight left,” the ranch hand said. “Hate to be looking for you because you stumbled off the trail up there. As you can tell, it’s a long way down.”

“I’ll be fine. Thanks again for the boat ride.”

“Not to worry. The woman that came through here last week swam over and got the boat herself. Said she couldn’t wait for me to get done with my chores. She was in some hurry. Good looker, though.”

“You saw her then?” Paul asked. He was anxious for confirmation that she was up the hill.

“Sure did. Saw her in the all over, if you know what I mean. Sunbathing, naked as a jaybird. On the walkway around the fire tower. Didn’t even try to cover up as I rode by on my horse. Just waved, sort of friendly like. Took the dudes quite a spell to calm down after that.”

“That sounds like her,” Paul said.
Amanda was definitely up the hill
, he thought.

Paul lifted his day pack and headed in the direction that his new friend indicated. The trail took off up the hill on the other side of the large sandy beach they had landed on.

Paul started counting the switchbacks as he climbed the hill. The sun continued to set as the trail wound back and forth. Sweating from the exercise, Paul stopped for a water break. He had counted twenty switchbacks so far.
Fifty-seven to go
, he thought. In the dimming light, he pulled out his flashlight.

But the trail was obvious, even in the dark. Horses had been using the trail for years and Paul could follow it by smell alone. He put the flashlight away at the next water break. The switchbacks continued in an uneven manner. Some would come in groups and Paul got encouraged.

Then long stretches of trail would wind its way around the ridge until a switchback finally appeared. But the trail climbed steadily. The stars came out and the brilliant Idaho night sky grew as Paul climbed higher. More and more sky became visible the further he climbed toward the ridge top. The night sky glowed with no interruption from any manmade light anywhere to be seen.

Finally, Paul counted out the seventy-seventh switchback and stopped to look around. He was surrounded by trees with no fire tower in sight. He continued walking and figured it must be about eleven o’clock.

As he wound his way up the curving trail, the sky suddenly opened up as the trees dropped off. He could make out the outline of a ridge as it headed toward the southwest. And just above him was an outline of a structure, but not what he had been expecting.

There was no tower of any kind; just what looked to be a small two-story house. The roof outline in the dark resembled what he had seen of fire towers, but this one was a pygmy. He walked toward the building, not sure if this was the right place.

In his haste at leaving Boise, he had left without a sleeping bag or tent. So, if this wasn’t the right place, he would be stuck bivouacking against the building’s wall until sunrise. He wasn’t looking forward to that.

Retrieving his flashlight, he saw the gravel path leaving the main trail. As he walked up the gravel path, his boots crunched loudly. A set of stairs leading up to the top floor was in front of him.
Should he climb the steps?
he thought. He didn’t know for sure if this was Amanda’s fire tower.

“Who’s there?” a voice called from above.
A familiar voice
, Paul thought. Before he could answer, the voice added. “I have a 357 Magnum aimed down the stairs and will use it if you take one step up.”

That’s my girl
, Paul thought.

Disguising his voice, Paul said. “Don’t shoot lady. I was hiking in Morrison Park and seem to have gotten lost.” Morrison Park was the park next to Boise State University campus.

“What the… ? How did you end up here?”

Paul couldn’t contain his laughter anymore and burst out laughing. A lantern in the tower came to life and a face popped over the handrail. “Paul, what in the world? How did you find me? Oh, my brother. He’s the only one who knew where I was. Wait ‘til I see him.”

Still chuckling, Paul asked. “Could a stranger find a little shelter here? It’s getting chilly out here and I’m sweaty from that climb.”

“Did you drag Mrs. Streeter and the Anti-Fornication League along with you? I can do without her.”

“Yeah, so I hear. Thrilling the tourists with the Idaho nymph legend. I’m surprised the dudes aren’t all camped at your doorstep waiting for another naked sighting,” Paul teased.

“Watch it, you’re on thin ice around here. How I live my life is my business. If horse packers get a thrill because I’m sun bathing, I’ve got my .357 ready if they think there’s more than that available.”

“Not me, I’m here to see the woman I love. Why did you run out on me last week? We can handle those people. And we can do it better together,” Paul offered.

“I didn’t want to be the one that sullied your position with the President. I know how important that is to you,” Amanda said.

“You need to know something right now. Everything else in my life takes second spot to my feelings for you. I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you, if you’ll have me,” Paul explained.

“Are you asking me to marry you?” Amanda asked. “If you are, you’re not being very romantic about it.”

“Well, it’s hard to be romantic at the bottom of a set of stairs with a .357 Magnum threatening me if I take one step,” Paul said.

They both broke out laughing. Receiving permission to climb the stairs, Paul reached Amanda. Kneeling down, he properly proposed marriage. He then asked if she wanted him to go and ask her father for her hand in matrimony.

“No, that’s not necessary, but asking on your knees is a nice gesture. I won’t have to shoot you now.”

“Spoken like the woman of my dreams,” Paul threw back.

 

* * *

 

Paul awoke the next morning to one of the most spectacular views in Idaho. Butt’s Point Lookout stood on a rocky ridge that overlooked the Salmon Canyon. From the walkway surrounding the second story, one could look straight down and see the Salmon River close to where Paul had crossed.

Looking out, the lookout held a commanding view of northern Idaho. To the east stood the Bitterroot Mountains in Montana. To the west, the Wallowa Mountains in Oregon stood out. In between, Hell’s Canyon fell away.

“I’m not sure I want to leave,” Paul said.

“We’ll run out of food soon, unless we can get the packers to bring some in to us.”

“I have a better idea. Let’s head home to Bruneau, have a quiet wedding and then head to Hawaii for a honeymoon,” Paul said.

Amanda smiled at her memories of Hawaii. She remembered the warm weather and their swims in the sea. She smiled at the thought of the Australian Prime Minister almost catching them skinny dipping. Amanda put her arms around Paul and kissed him. He needed no further answer.

 

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