Sequoia Trail a Bo Jon Little horse P.I. series.
A Bo Jon Little horse p.i. full-length novel. A fire is to erupt up in the mountain range of Northwest territory. All season long the firefighters who were to jump into fire-zones were waiting and training. 6 men were to be chuted in to curtail the flames. It all went as explained. But while in the midst of' it, one of their own becomes a culprit for mass-murder. A f'ormer G5 Officer fighting in the Macon as an pyrotechnic force comes home and is set-up as his experience. W'hat has happened to what was a stark act of transgression. Bo joins the case after one is on the run. Read"Sequoia Trail" a Bo Jon Little horse p.i. novel.
[Sample:]
A Bo Jon Littlehorse, P.I. Novel
Sequoia Trail
Second edition
By
Danny E. Allen
Copyright Danny Allen 2010
KDP publishing editiion
Table of Content
The second of a 7 series story. Private investigator Bo Jon Littlehorse is now depicted in a full length book for the first time. The story is both dramatic, absolving and the sorted story of a Navyman and the murders he committed due to his experience. Find out if Bo can capture him on the run and a classed government agent...
One
Trees on fire…
…The water-held helicopter let-loose of hundred of gallons of water onto the forest-flames... Which plumed high-above the pines... The radio-signals, from the ground-crew called a ‘thanks’ and yelled-for more. The emblazoned-woodland had gotten eaten-up over 40 square-miles and was burning trees like toothpicks. Albert Simmons, had never known such vegetation to ash-in 240-hours. He and five Oregon-based Elitists fire-fighting-forces brought-in as main-counter insurgent. He and his comrades; Joe Sinkle, David Garr, Sam Thetis and the two-brothers; borne-on as the cubs of the group'...Tom and Gene Mc Thenis, and the rest, fought-together around-the-clock for three-days. Sam had an anniversary coming-up soon. ‘Divide the line, men... We need to stake-and-run.' Joe, was Albert’s second-hand man he knew all Albert(Al), knew… As the ten-day-old burning hit in the upstate peninsula.
It was late-Fall, when the air was ‘rigid’. And everything was still-moist, flashed and sparked… Joe was tiring, as his-Commander moved with speed. Al glanced-at Joe, then at the rest of the crew, who-were black, with soot. He yelled-orders, while his men reacted-in sequence… He ran-up ahead of them, as they carried-out fire-fighting, against-the-odds. The copters, were conveying-back and forth. Al was out, ahead of the flames. His-crew were struggling-behind, but still following their-Chief. He sat on a ridge-awaiting his-men decided-it was time to do something, out-of-the-ordinary…
'Sam!' Yelled David. With Joe not far-behind, trying to breathe through the smoke...
'Where is Al?' Sam did not know where Al was. But he knew, he wouldn’t leave them.
David, was an experienced-fighter, he was taught what to do, and what not to do… The fire, kept-up the invisible honor-line, each pitching and plowing dirt putting-up break-lines and moving-on. The group were well-skilled; the best, coming from the countryside of Washington and taught every aspect of every-contention… Gene, was the ‘tooler’ of the group. Of the rest of the crowd, he was the least-liked. He had a drinking-habit, a broken family life, occasional-bouts of anger and periods of depression. He lived-up in the mountains, where he stayed-in solitude. With long-times alone and at peace, he was getting back-on his-feet…
…None of his struggles put him out of doing his-duties… He was both, given the job and proven-worthy. For that reason, for his rural-lifestyle; had given him wilderness-‘smarts’... Though he had to work as a team, he proved himself, fully-competent under all circumstances... …He at 27, was still considered, a ‘cub’. His brother, who was 8-years younger, joined the crew after he did… He enjoyed-adventure, and was preparing to join the Marines. But he had unsettled-business with his-brother, whom he cared-for, and wanted him to retake hold of his-life… Tom was more of a ‘buck’ but he had taken himself very-serious. Which was one of the reasons his brother and the rest of the crew thought it was a well-worthy occupation for him… He was now-inhaling smoke as he had taken the ‘lit’ cigarette-end of the job...as they called-it. His youthful-energies and simple ‘wild’-instincts often gave him the ‘brunt’, followed-by his older-brother. Gene could see the shadow-of-flames behind him, and the spray-of sunlight ahead, where safety lay.
David was forestry-commissioned, he was under direct-command by the department of U.S.F.S… A strategic-tactician, he was the one given the ‘order’ to be parachuted-in. David, was responsible for his party and to keep abreast of his sector of the fire-zone. Although he was not a demanding-officer, giving others the operational-lead as he saw fit, and qualified as one of the abilities in his-position. He was keeping-watch, as the next water-copter way-layed its load. He was planting himself near the heat-zone but he knew exactly, the risks…
He was planning to join forces with Tom and Gene then signed Sam and Joe to converge at a stretch-point; then head to the next-rise to regroup. Joe was smelling of methane and soot, he’d watched the flames curl in the lower-valley which meant it was turning, into the wind. Joe ran toward the natural-path where the men were moving quickly, up the valley he could hear a radio receiver meaning the coordinator was sending calls. Even though it was cool and moist, the trees’ natural-burning effect to sow seeds of burning pine-combs, was getting-louder.
Which meant the fire wasn’t too hot and smoke was getting-thicker. He yelled-for the four-men down the shunt and ran on to set his-company. The trees burned steadily, as the fierce-view from atop became the plumes of furnacing-fodder. Time-was running-out, the team was now heading to their boss’s beckon. David had regrouped his men, they then headed-up the brush-trail, as he looked on further he saw the pitch-point where the trees were beginning to catch. He heard Joe’s voice he could hear the McThenis boys deeply-breathing trying to keep up, he knew they were the last-action taken, before bugging-out.
He looked-back to see just where they were and arm-fetched them as he headed out onto the preclearing site of the next stop. With a typical forest-fire the flames were acres in its-path that meant a 2,600 acre flash; to a million-acre disaster. They were at its ‘heart’ that was their-job; the ‘flash-pan‘; and responsible-for not getting into the fire. So every instance was critical and an exact-act. David, knew this, as the rest-of the crew...
~~~
It was warm that summer, as each in the last three-years. The Northern-western states were experiencing a dry season with storms coming, sporadically. In their course there were fires springing-up like dandelions. The Oregon state Elite-Brigade had seen fires come every seven-days. Running from site to-site from Oregon to Minnesota. Joe had ran the Unit, as an instructor; for incoming enlistees. David-had done an exemplary job, earlier that season he’d enjoyed being a spearhead in each fire-fight...
He was an effective-coordinator. Gene and Tom were involved in the timberline-business; cutting lumber up-stream and sending it in large numbers down to the mill-works. That’s were Tom honed his treeing-skills; while Gene handled the bartering-side to lumbering and lucidity as a wise-ruralist… He had taken to caring for his brother, like the child he never had before. They were enlisted as optional volunteer-Elitists. Which they proved early that Spring. Tom was proud, as he was more reserving, and competent. They both had been passed-over every-other fire-event; as they were working and sought only under ‘under-siege’ circumstances, his basic job was simple, he did like the excitement almost as much as his younger brother…
Sam was a conservationist, animalogist and environmental-researcher, who’d spent the summers in the same areas-of work… He was 16, when he worked through-out Helena State Park when seven-days later while his-parents were shuttling him home from his outing the mountain-exploded. He remembered how dark the sky became almost pitch-dark. He had never seen such disaster in his-life… The summer, for him was absorbed in planting tracking-scanners of animal-populations, and charting their-habits. He was also on an ever-involvement in the projects of ‘hit-and-miss’ forest-burning long a controversial idea… He gave in on that side of his-belief that was presented in Conservation-classes. Dave was in-and-out of the fighters’ brigade-barracks being on-call with the crew; that he marked his-helmet with scratched etchings of trees.
Once a military-man, a Naval-man during the Vietnam-conflict...running defense and reconnaissance along the Macon-Delta with Naval gun-ships, and occasionally, assaulting Vietcong-reinsurgents. He was hand-picked to be an technical-ordinate to a unit; to take-charge of and be the leader of a crew... Although, he knew what he had to work with; an indigenous un-adept number-of men. He didn’t waste time. Although that summer, he went-over plans to make sure, the Elite-group had the performance-background, and a sense of the job. He’d been jumping with a number of groups, from Iowa to Minnesota... All the factors, issues and intricacies that he had to followed-through upon…
He posted a regiments for what the profile his men would work under. Most of the men he encountered were good-firefighters. But he needed more basis for application and ability to focus on the strategy of ‘urgency’ and ‘reliability’. To deem men ‘worthy’ had taken a lot of proficient-research. With the coming of summer’s end he had 80-men, willing to join and 20-who were good-candidates. He made the last-decision by super-imposing them in each of the unique-circumstances. Of the 20, he narrowed-down to 8. Into Fall, he trained these-8, intensely. Finally, six were chosen… Patrick Wilcox was a helicopter-flyer for fires, vacationers, and wild-animal research; he loved his job.
But one warm-summer day he was heading-up into the mountain-range with explorers; when his chopper crashed killing all men on-board. The bodies were found 75-miles into wilderness country. Patrick was buried as David Garr had just-approved the orders… It was down to five. The high-mountains were growing snow-capped and the Elk were working their way down valley. Early storms were not present until the air had cooled down valley, which acted like a trough keeping the trees dark and the Sun from being blocked. Fires, still-simmered as fighters exhaustively, accomplished their task. The last-fire to the many-corridors were being dousted. Although the air was still-dry the breeze up in the mountains blew in scarce-moisture. As the Sun-headed high-over forest-country.
The animals were enjoying the late-constitution. The fighters knew this stalled-atmosphere could mean a chancy-potential that was very-hazardous. David was calling-in for all sites being-assessed...if any possible signs, of could be ‘initials’…to be turned-in contingently, to representative-statistics and agency data of the State Forestry Department.
He’d become mildly, wealthy doing a job, highly-needed and feeling a chance to relax after putting-in his time. He was efficient at all his occupations; strong, intelligent and ‘well-seasoned’. He’d just been assigned as a direct-leader under a man from the U.S.F.S... He and David, were quite respectful of each-other they’d gotten along well and both corroborated on all aspects of hitch-firefighting. ...Sam was in advance of David in his ‘know-how’ of tenet-points and functionalities... So with a very-knowledgeable bestowal, he was made David’s right-hand 'go-to' man, directly under Al.
...Along a long-stretch of territory of remote-forest land; about 75-miles from what was now the burning fighting-point. The warm-sun had given way to southerly, menacing-storms that were approaching. Within two-hours, the call went out to the fighter-elite, there had been alerted several-units of regulars. Fighting-in differing-areas, they had caught-it early, but the flames went canopy-fast toward the thicker-woods. So they needed a ‘thrust-group' to fight. Until a fresh-installing of men could get ahead of it. Within an hour, five-men were activated into-flight over the area.
‘Okay, men we’ve been chosen for this mission: twofold…’ ‘…That is, to slow the fire and make a strategy for all future-fighters…’ ‘We are going-in at map-point 44o, 42o... Where the fire is expected to hit up-slope.’ ‘We’ll observe the area looking for weak-points, and to take significant-action’… ‘Okay, men drop at the near-ridge, and we will gather on the downward facing-hill, everyone synchronize watches and prepare for descent.’ Said Sam. Everyone concentrated-on the objective. The objective was all-important.
Many-times, they’d been through the idea-of-objectives: ‘jump, join, justify and jam’... Alone, as they-were on the ground, they-had those intents, in-mind. The gathered-men had began their last-stage as they had Joe Sinkle the ‘Subordinate-spearhead’ had taken up the rear. All was accounted for, as Sam sent up the flare. David seemed quiet. There had been a stowaway-item in his-duffle-bag… The pick-up copter roamed a now-burnt woods looking for the six-men. There was no sign of them a search-trek, revealed four dead-bodies. And eventually, a fifth.
...The corpses, were shot through the neck twice as if struggling, the last had bleed-perfusedly. There lay beside one of them a number of pine-cones shaped in an ‘S’… This was strange. …The state-troopers, were brought-in. In Carson City, Nevada the morning-paper was read over a breakfast of hot-biscuits and fresh-butter. The dark, thick-hair that was pulled back into a pony-tail, dark-eyes that were guise on the page. Which fanned-across the text like a dear running-through the woods, leaping without losing a leap or-bound. ...He-sipped his coffee then ate a bite of soft-bread, savoring the tender baked-loaf moisture... And then continued-reading; as to not let ‘flavor’ nor the essence of odor or printed-ardor-‘escape’.
He was native-American, in his regular-stint at the ‘EAT’ Café... Many of the patrons knew him as a quiet, yet studious-individual. Calm and silent, yet never unwelcoming, nor imposing in his-integrity. He was masculine and compassionately-gentle in spirit, and easy-going. Many of the regulars knew of his-warm and insightful-nature. ...‘Mr. Jon’. ‘…The new-market is showing-signs of decline, and its not being-helped by an incoming-President.’ ...Bo finished his four-biscuits, by wiping his plate of gravy with the last of his bread, and then eating. Bo was noticing the man across the street, while the bustle of uncaring traffic went-on.
He continued to listen, while not-missing a beat. He folded the paper and put four-dollars underneath, placing it on his-plate. ‘It’s a bull-market, Mr. Lacing…’, whom he had known since the ‘84 Recession. ‘...Money-makers will soon sink-in; the ‘money-track’ should then be Utilities, then consumers; and then, as the government should be ready to provide-shelters...as profiteers, who will be leading into the money-market.’ ‘So I suggest to have a heavy-service-sector, with a part-in manufacture…' Bo said, stoically, and with conciseness...
He waited for an expression on the man’s face, who began to ‘glow’ with alluding. ...‘Thank you, Mr. Littlehorse.’ ‘...I see your point…’ He stood-up, excused himself, then left. He was contemplating the Oregon-incident then, how the now dead fire-fighters, were murdered-in a situation of intensely, crucial roles... It said that their-mission was perilous, yet murder wasn’t out of the question.
…The bodies had to be identified; yet a ‘underhandedness‘ was thought to be increasingly, possible. Bo had seen the man across-the-street. He was seemingly, divorced from his mind. ...By something he-minded, deeply. Bo walked to him, quietly, he asked him several-questions of a helpful-nature. A Caucasian-man, tall perhaps a stranger, perhaps looking for trouble he didn’t need. ...Interesting enough, he seemed ‘lost’. Bo asked him several-questions about what he was looking for; perhaps, he could assist him. The man avoided eye-contact.
He had agitation in his-voice, and seemed not to be listening. Bo noticed, his dress, he didn’t seem to be from the area. It was cool-out, so Bo Jon asked if he would like to have a cup-of-coffee. He was dressed-in a light-plaid tan-shirt, denim jeans and timber-boots. After several discreet inquiries, he learned that he was from California… He was there for his birthday. Bo eventually, talked him into going with him to the bureau of records. He agreed. On the drive over, he explained that his-car and fifty dollars, was all he had in the world. He hoped to find someone, in-town.
Carson City was a large-town. His brother had probably registered with license or housing, where he might be able to find-him. His name was Chris Garr. He’d called ahead but could not reach him. Driving from L.A. he’d hoped to meet him. ..His brother was a federal-officer, working under some federal rural-system. Bo then asked him some questions about him; and a few polite-inquiries about his-concerns. Bo was very cordial, about his brother’s history. He was honest, and open… They arrived at the Bureau office was up-town, Bo helped him follow-up; and he learned he-lived in a large-apartment in a suburban neighborhood.
They-drove to his villa which was well-cared for. David was always at-work. He was well-competent and excellent at whatever he did, a graduate in bachelors from Harvard. A doctoral-graduate of Princeton, and by the last ten-years, he was asked to become a program-steward with U.S.F.S... He’d grown-up with only he and his brother were the only children of his-parents, who’d taken them on long-treks skiing-up in the high-mountains of Colorado during vacations. His father, had been a military-man…
~~~~
…Naval Officer makes an declarative speech... -...'We brought you here to ask you to become a Guardsman-CO... As to your superior-ability, and excellent-intellect…’ ‘We have learned that you were a honor-student at Princeton before volunteering; and you have been chosen to be a new-assignee by your Commander’... ‘We will give you an exceptional-wage and you will be under the US Guard. Which will be a National-call position, please join-us in this service-to your Country.’ David was 28, a Naval Lieutenant-Commander-declassified; and how, his-trials in his head were ‘full’ of warrior-likening and following-orders; with a personal-mentality still up in-the-air.
David had joined the service while at ROTC in college, his-father became proud of his-decision. After 3-years of Guardsmanship, his parents both died in a house-fire. His father had been smoking while in bed when it broke-out. David never smoked or drank, and tried to convince his father to give it up when his mother stepped-into explain that his father deserved at least one-vice… His younger-brother was 15, when they were orphaned while he was working for the Guard. He promised himself, that he would live a ‘pure’ and full-life. This was one-reason David joined the civil Guard’s CO division... He’d withstood what many could-not; those ‘fires’, that absorbed-all... Then as in a disregard of life, takes-over and banishes the poisoned, the unrighteous, the dirtiness-of life…
He had sent his-brother to college in sun-drenched California, and was promoted to a more desired yet difficult-position, by his Seamanship; he was willing-to take-over under a greater-assignment to U.S.F.S. In a coopt with Albert Simmons; Lower District-quartermaster of Oregon based Forestry-Emergency and Disaster... Within weeks, he was taking major advanced-instructions and intense-regulations and orientation-programs.. He was incredibly astute; listening, following critical-directions and being astutely, careful in every aspect of the orientation.
***
It was three-days, before the jump-down into the fire-fight. All six-men were in the meeting. Sam was the instructor-designate. ...‘Next jump-zone fall-out: Washington upper mountain range. Up around the 1,500 feet range, the incinuary-flames are heading-North by Northwest; ETA at 1,200 feet in the high-mountain range, the regulars are pitted at station 'Lambda'; winds are calm-to ten mph...’ ...‘Meteorologist, expecting cool dry-sunshine.’ ‘...Okay, we have 72-hours to drop-in.’ ‘Our major-purpose is to form a stalwart until regulars can regroup and fortify with a central-bases of coordinately, stopping-flames from reaching the lower-range’... ‘We will carry full-gear and give feedback to HQ, with a 25-minute spread’... ‘Al has given us, 16-hours to form a substanitial-fire-break…’ An established ‘day-break’ is to be to containing the forward-movement of the fire, expectingly, to slowing its cinders; statically, to slow-canopies by creating a wood-stall...' '...This was a highly, efficient-duty...' Five of the six-men having been exacting-concentrating... The rookies, were jotting-notes, doing declaratives and transfixing, existing-entities. They were contingently, being concisely and initially, correspondent.
‘...Are there any, question?’ David, the mind of the team asked of even the minutest-detail. As if in specifics of ground-water; was there any rocky-terrain, what kinds of trees, etc. Everyone paid especial-attention… His inquiry-upon, was with a deep-‘glint’ to his-eyes. As if intensely involved, the others thought-it was his special-mood for putting-in the job… Sam respected that, if it became especially, difficult or troublesome... After-all questions were answered-everyone became readied for the entering the site of their-‘objective’… It was very serious, a slight-error, either in dropping-in or any slight miscalculation-would mean death or being caught-in a-danger. Every man on the team had to depend-on every-other. With all-precautions the job was extremely, delicate at best. The candidates for fire-fight Jump-Elite was speed, accuracy, proficiency and preparation-above all… ...'I will be the terminal-lead.' 'I will be chuting-out along discretionary-lines'…(This meant he’d be the first, and responsible-for finding and engaging, the direction of involvement…)