Tracking Trisha

Prologue

Prologue

The large buck moved cautiously through the dense forest. It paused, looking around. A shiver passed over its tan coat, and its ears twitched back and forth trying to detect the slightest sound that was not natural to its habitat. Its large, dark brown eyes searched the nearby brush, looking for the danger it could sense but not see. Taking a tentative step forward, it suddenly whirled and jumped quickly over a log, disappearing into the surrounding forest.

A muttered curse exploded from the lips of the figure lying silently on the ground. The man slowly rose out of his hiding place, a large hunting knife in his hand. He hadn’t eaten in three days. As he stood up, brushing the leaves and branches off his shoulders and legs, a sharp impact to the center of his back threw him forward, and he lay still, knowing he had just been killed.

“Last target down,” Trisha said softly into her mic.

She calmly tucked the bow back into the harness clipped to her side and began working her way down the large tree she was in. Even as she moved, it was almost impossible to see her small form as she stayed in the shadows and covering of the branches. She jumped down the last couple of feet and moved to the man who lay prone on the damp, forest floor. Walking over to him with her pistol held tightly against her, she looked at the red stain spreading over his back.

A clean kill, she thought. Severed spine, arrow straight through the heart, no sound.

“Good job, baby girl,” a deep voice replied with pride. “That makes ten for ten. Tag target and come on in.”

Trisha grinned as she bent down and touched the target. “Tag, you’re it,” she said.

The man groaned as he turned over and looked up into the shining dark brown eyes of the girl standing over him. His only consolation was he had been the last one tagged. The bad thing was he’d been tagged by a twelve-year-old little girl. He was never going to live down the ribbing from the other guys in his squadron.

“Daddy says we can come in now,” Trisha said as she reached out a hand to help the soldier who was going through an intensive wilderness survival training program with Trisha’s dad.

“What gave me away?” the man grumbled as he slowly got to his feet again.

“Your stomach,” Trisha replied with a grin. “You should have eaten those bugs two days ago or some of the fish left over from the grizzly yesterday. They weren’t too bad.”

The man just grunted as he rotated his shoulders, trying to ease the pain where Trisha shot him with the arrow. The tips were designed with an ink pack on them so when they hit the target, it was noticeable to the instructors. The problem was it still hurt like hell. He would be sporting a softball-sized bruise for at least a week.

“How did you know about the bugs and the fish?” the man asked as he tried to look over his shoulder to see what kind of shape he would have been in if she’d shot him with a real arrow.

“Oh, about an hour after you left I found your trail. You left some really good tracks, and it wasn’t too hard to follow you. Anyway, I watched you as you tried to decide if you were going to eat them,” Trisha replied as she stepped over a log. “By the way, I severed your spinal column and the arrow would have gone into your heart, killing you instantly.”

The man shook his head in wonder. What kind of father would teach his little girl how to track, hunt, and kill for fun? He heard of the father/daughter team from some of the other Navy SEALs who had gone through the training. None of them ever made it through the first time without getting killed. Very few, if any, ever made it through the second or third time. Once they made it through, the father would send them in again, only this time he would send his daughter in after them. None ever survived.

“Why didn’t you kill me earlier?” the man asked. He followed the small figure in front of him without questioning her whether she knew where they were at, much less where they were going.

“Oh, I like studying my prey to see how it thinks. Daddy says you can learn a lot about a person by studying the way they react to things that are going on around them. You did a good job once you realized I was tracking you. I liked how you used the river to try to cover your tracks,” Trisha said, turning toward a narrow animal trail.

“Thanks,” the man grumbled again.

Dante Rodriguez listened as Trisha explained all the things she noticed him doing right and pointed out some things he did wrong. He shook his head thinking it was hard to believe he was listening to a twelve-year-old. She seemed much older. She moved with an easy grace and confidence which told of her knowledge, experience, and comfort at being in her present environment.

He remembered laughing with the other nine guys in his squadron when his commanding officer told them they were going to participate in a wilderness survival camp held by Grove Wilderness Guides, a private company that worked out of Wyoming. The guys all joked that if they could survive basic training and Camp Coronado, they could survive anything. Obviously, the U. S. Navy SEALs never expected they would be up against the skills of a very talented twelve-year-old girl.

“Daddy!” Trisha squealed suddenly and took off at a run. Dante watched as her slim shape was engulfed in a hug by a huge bear of a man.

Later that night, Trisha lay on the roof outside her bedroom window. Her dad was saying good-bye to the last of their clients, and she was waiting for him in their favorite spot. Her eyes lit up as the big, muscular frame of her father crawled through the narrow opening without a sound. A moment later, he lowered his huge frame down next to her, and they both stared silently up at the night sky.

“You did real good, baby girl,” her dad said in a gruff voice. “Your mom and I are real proud of you.”

Trisha smiled as she stared up at the twinkling stars. “Which one is she on tonight?” Trisha asked softly.

Her dad pointed to a bright spot. “That one,” he replied just as quietly. “Your mom’s on that star tonight looking down on you. Can you hear her? She’s telling me what a beautiful young lady you are turning out to be and how proud she is of you.”

Trisha smiled up at the star her dad pointed out. “I’m glad. One day I’m going to fly up there and find her,” Trisha said before she turned her head to look at her dad. “And when I do, I’m going to take you with me.”

Trisha’s dad, Paul, kept his eyes focused on the star he had chosen tonight. He didn’t say anything, he couldn’t. His throat was tight from holding in the tears at the innocence in his only daughter’s promise. Since his wife died from a brain aneurysm when Trisha was a year old, it was just him and her. Every night they would lie out under the stars and pick a different one. He reached over and gently cupped Trisha’s small hand in his larger one.

“You do that, baby girl. You do that and I’ll be happy to go with you,” he finally said.