Three           The intruder did not return that night.           The three SWAT officers took turns standing guard, but as the first glow of the advancing sun lightened the eastern sky, there had been no sign of him and Luca, the last one to stand guard duty, began to breathe easier.  Midge stood guard with him, her alert ears and eyes carefully scrutinizing every sound and her nose twitching attentively to catch odors that the humans could not detect.  She took her new responsibilities seriously, occasionally even getting up to patrol the camp�s perimeter.           As the sun finally peeked over the horizon, Luca arranged the wood in the pit and stoked it into a blaze.  Next, he measured coffee into the tin coffee pot and set it on the grill to heat.  Then, while the coffee brewed, he sat down on a fallen log that they had dragged into the camp for seating purposes, and allowed his eyes to travel over the peaceful landscape around them, wondering about their midnight visitor.  Who was he?  What did he want?  And why was he out here in the wilderness area of Bob Carver�s property?  Was he lingering in the area, or had he decided to move on?           With the approaching daylight, the crickets and frogs finally became silent, but with the quiet came a new sense of uncertainty.  Luca wondered if they would need to stand guard every night to prevent a recurrence, or should they simply decide to pack up and go home?  The incident had certainly put a damper on their fishing trip.           Hearing a movement on the picket line, he watched as Chief climbed to his feet and shook the dust and grass from his coat.  Daisy and Prince were lying on their bellies, their legs folded under them, while Buttercup was still lying flat, enjoying her nap.  Dropping his muzzle to the ground, Chief nibbled on the grass that had been cropped short the evening before, swatting his tail back and forth.  Typical of the classic Appaloosa breed, Chief�s tail was short, barely reaching his hocks, and sparsely haired, while the other three horses had long luxurious tails.  Luca wondered if Chief envied them as he envied people with straight hair.           Returning from her patrol, Midge came wandering back to him and nudged her head under his hand, wanting to be petted.  He paused briefly to stroke her smooth head.  With a contented sigh, she sat down against him and rested her head on his thigh.           Within minutes, responding to the tantalizing aroma of the morning brew, Jim crawled out of his tent, inhaling deeply.  �That smells good!� he said.           �What a gorgeous day!� T. J. exclaimed at almost the same time as he threw back the flap of his tent.  �Is that coffee about ready?�           With her master up now, Midge abandoned Luca and sidled up to T. J., panting happily and wagging her tail.  He paused to pat her on the sides and stroke her head as he joined Luca on the log.           Jim fetched their three cups from the supplies and filled them, one at a time.  Then they sat back to enjoy the warmth of the hot liquid.  No one offered to start breakfast, and their eyes shifted from one to the other, waiting for someone to volunteer.           Finally, Luca set his cup aside and stood up to stretch.  �I�ll take the horses down to the stream for water while someone rustles up some breakfast.�           �You�ll need some help,� T. J. said, quickly, rising quickly.  �Jim, I guess that means you get to fix breakfast this morning.�           �You�re too kind,� Jim replied with mock annoyance.  �Any suggestions?�           �Surprise us!� Luca said as he walked to the picket lines, whistling softly.           The horses were all on their feet now, waiting with ears pricked, and they nickered greetings to him and T. J. as they approached, eager for a morning feed.  They had grazed down all the grass within reach on the picket lines, leaving closely cropped circles around them.           �Later, eh?� Luca said as he stroked the speckled neck of the horse he had been given to ride.  �First, you�ll get a drink of water, and then we�ll move the picket line.�           �Tell you what,� T. J. said.  �While you take the first pair of horses down to the stream, I�ll move their picket lines, then while I take the other two, you can move theirs.�           �Good idea,� Luca agreed.           Unfastening the lead ropes, the young SWAT officer took Chief and Prince down to the stream and waited while they dropped their heads to the water and drank their fill.  When their thirst was quenched, he led them back to the camp, where T. J. had just finished moving the rope to a new location, just down from the previous location.  It was lush with tall meadow grass, so the horses would be kept busy cropping grass for hours.  When night fell, if they decided to stay, they would be moved closer to camp.           Luca fastened the geldings to the picket line, then T. J. removed the mares from their tethers and led them down to the stream.  When both geldings were secure, Luca moved the mares� picket line close to the other one, and it was ready when T. J. returned.  All four horses immediately dipped their heads into the tall grass and began to graze.           By the time they returned to the camp together, they were greeted by the smell of frying ham and potatoes.           �Hey, that smells good!� T. J. said.           �Almost done,� Jim said.  �Grab your plates.  I wasn�t sure about this canned ham we brought, but it smells pretty good and looks like it might be an adequate substitute for the fresh product.�           �With a little luck, we�ll have fried bass for lunch and supper,� T. J. said, casting a longing glance toward the pond that shimmered beckoningly in the early morning sunlight.  �I was sure hoping we�d have some time to fish before dark last night, but we didn�t count on that trail being blocked like that.�           �I wonder what happened there,� Luca said as he helped himself to fried ham and potatoes.  �You think that guy who came into the camp last night set off the avalanche that blocked the trail?�  With his plate filled, he settled back on the ground to eat.           �Possibly,� T. J. agreed, taking his turn at the skillets.  �The question is, why?�           �Maybe he�s some escaped convict or something that�s staked out this area for his own, and doesn�t want any intruders,� Luca said.           �If that�s the case, he will probably be keeping an eye on us.  He could be watching us right now.�           The hair prickled on the back of Luca�s neck, and he looked over his shoulder to verify that no one was there.  He saw only the clusters of trees and shrubs at the edge of the woods.  �I bet he was the guy I heard behind me yesterday.�           �Yeah,� T. J. agreed.  �I thought it was probably just an animal or something, but it could be the guy.  Maybe he followed us in.�           �I think we�re jumping to conclusions here and getting ourselves spooked,� Jim said, the calm voice of reason.  �We have no evidence whatsoever that anyone deliberately blocked that trail.  There are a lot of rocky bluffs around these parts, and there are loose rocks and debris on all of them.  Could have simply been caused by something natural; a rock slide, a lightning strike, an underground tremor from a fault line.  Anything.  And the man who came into the camp could simply be a vagrant passing through the area and saw an opportunity for a quick meal at our expense.  He�s probably long gone by now.�           Luca and T. J. exchanged glances, unconvinced.           �What if he isn�t?� T. J. asked.  �What if he�s hanging around here waiting for us to be distracted so he can steal the horses or take the rest of our supplies?�           Streets eyes wandered to the horses, which grazed on the picket lines.  �Well, you�ve moved the horses closer to the pond.  We�ll stay alert and keep our eyes on them and the camp while we�re fishing.  Tonight, we�ll move them closer to camp.  In the meantime, I�m here to do some fishing, and I don�t intend to let this dampen my vacation.�           Luca sighed.  �I suppose you�re probably right.�           �Midge will notice anything suspicious,� T. J. said.  �She�s on the alert now, so I agree.  Let�s do some fishing!�           As soon as the breakfast dishes were cleaned and put away, T. J. took up his fishing pole and selected several of his favorite lures, then passed out lures to the other two men.  With their poles propped against their shoulders, they walked through the tall meadow grass toward the large pond.           It was a perfect day for fishing.  There was only a mild breeze which stirred the grass and rippled slightly on the surface of the water.           Midge, trotting ahead, suddenly froze as still as a statue, her attention riveted upon a clump of shrubs.  T. J. moved quietly up behind her, then flushed out the pair of quail that was hiding there.  They took flight, never knowing that had he been hunting they would have been brought down with a quick shot.           �Good girl!� the sharpshooter praised, patting her side.           She waved her tail, happy that she had pleased him.           �That�s fascinating the way those hunting dogs will do that,� Street said.  �My uncle used to have a pointer, and it always intrigued me how well they work with humans to find game.�           Bounding ahead, Midge led the way to the pond, and the young officers spread out and cast their lines into the water, anticipating a good day of fishing.                                                           -()-           With a gesture of disgust, Luca yanked his line out of the water and scrutinized the dangling lure.  Water dripped from the spinner and a ray of sunlight flashed on the thin metal disks in a way that seemed to mock his unproductive day of fishing.  It seemed to be functioning properly, certainly enough to attract a hungry bass, but for some reason he had not pulled in a single fish all day.           By lunchtime, no one had caught any fish, so the three young officers had returned to camp for lunch.  Without bread, they were unable to make sandwiches out of the leftover canned ham, so they fried it in the skillet and prepared another can of pork and beans before returning to the pond.  And now, it looked like they would be having pork and beans again for supper instead of the fish fry they had planned on.           A little farther down the bank, Street watched as Luca scrutinized his dangling lure.  �Catching anything?� he called.           �Not even a nibble.�           �Same here.  I don�t think there are any fish in this pond.  I remember seeing another pond nearby on that map, so I think we should saddle the horses and ride on over there and see if that one has any fish in it.  Maybe Bob forgot which pond he was talking about.�           �Sounds good to me,� Luca agreed.           �Count me in,� T. J. added from his position farther down from Street.            Reeling in his line, he joined Jim and Dom as they trudged back to the camp.  Midge loped eagerly ahead of them.           �What about the pack horse,� T. J. said.  �I don�t think we should leave her behind, just in case that prowler is still hanging around.�           �We�ll let her carry the fishing gear and our provisions,� Jim suggested.  �It might not be prudent to leave the rest of our food here, just in case.  We�ll need to take the picket lines with us, too.�           �Who knows?� Luca added.  �It might even be a better campsite than where we are now.�           When they reached the camp, they opened up the map and pinpointed the other pond.  Both ponds were clearly marked, and the one that had so far failed to provide a single fish was indicated in Bob�s handwriting as the best fishing hole.  It had been years since he had fished in this area, so it was worth a try to see if the other pond provided better results.           They saddled the horses and placed the pack saddle on the pack horse, loaded it with the gear they would need for a day of fishing plus the picket lines for the horses, then they mounted and road toward the other pond.           It was another pleasant day for an outing, and the three young men had great hopes that Bob had simply been mistaken about which pond contained the best fishing.  The morning sun was still high in the sky with plenty of time for enjoying the fishing and the scenery around them.  They traveled for nearly an hour, moving in and out of the woods.           As they rode single file along the edge of the woods, following the curve of the rocky bluff, T. J. approached one of the many shallow streams that cross-crossed the landscape.  Recalling the palomino�s aversion to water, the young sharpshooter took a firm hold on the saddle horn with one hand as he guided the horse down the slope with the other.  Buttercup flicked her ears nervously toward the running water, hesitated briefly, then leaped over the stream.  T. J. managed to hold on � just barely.           Chief followed Buttercup down the slope and then splashed through it.  Luca leaned forward as the animal picked its way up the slope on the other side.  Behind him, Street�s mount crossed the stream with little objection, but the pack horse was less happy about getting its feet wet and after pulling back briefly, it finally elected to jump across as she had done the day before.           When they were all on level ground again, they emerged into an open meadow and the pond sparkled in the sunlight ahead of them.           �There it is, gentlemen!� T. J. enthusiastically.           �It�s even prettier here than at the other pond!� Luca exclaimed.  �I vote we move our camp here!�           Street laughed.  �Let�s see what the fishing is like here before we make a decision.  We don�t even know for sure that Bob made a mistake regarding which pond was which.�  He pointed to his right.  �There are some trees over there where we can set up the picket lines.�           They rode in that direction, and when they reached it they dismounted, set up the picket line, and removed the tack from the horses� backs before securing them to the lines.  Then they took their fishing rods to the water�s edge.            T. J. immediately cast his line in the water, designating the prime spot for his own.  Jim and Luca began walking toward their right, circling the pond to seek another good spot across the water from him.           Luca looked over his shoulder as he trudged through the high reeds and bulrushes.  Jim was following a short distance behind.  �I sure hope we catch something over here, or we�ll be eating all our meals out of a can!  Bob assured us that the fi---  Ugh!�  Not watching where he was placing his steps, his foot struck a solid object, and he felt himself falling.  He twisted his body as he fell so that as he landed on the other side of the object, he was facing upward with his legs draped over it, and could only stare at it for several moments as his brain caught up with what his eyes were telling him was there.  �Damn!� he exclaimed as he rolled away from the object and scrambled to his feet.           �You okay?� Street asked, laughing softly as he approached, then the smile dropped from his face as he stared at the object that Luca had just fallen over.  �What the hell?�           A dead body lay on the ground, almost completely obscured by the tall reeds that had grown up around it.  The legs were partly in the water and the fact that the water level was down indicated that the body had been completely submerged during the spring rains.  Time had reduced it to almost skeletal with bits of skin still clinging to the bones.  It was dressed in a shirt, jacket, trousers and boots.           �He�s been here a while,� Dom said, solemnly.  �I wonder who he is.�           Jim shook his head, slowly.  �No idea, but I bet someone back home is missing him.�             Across the pond from them, T. J.�s brow creased in a frown, wondering what his friends were doing.  They were looking intently at something on the ground, and obviously were discussing it.  �Hey!� he called.  �What�re you two looking at?�           �Get over here!� Jim shouted back in a voice that left no room for argument.           Realizing that they had found something important, he pulled in his line and began jogging around the bank of the pond toward them.  Midge bounded ahead, thinking it was playtime.  Suddenly, the dog came to alert attention and rushed forward to investigate the object that Luca and Street were still observing with grim expressions, her ears lifted anxiously, but he called her back.  �Midge!  No!� he commanded.           She stopped in her tracks, but her curious eyes were riveted on the unfamiliar sight on the ground between Luca and Street.           �Stay,� T. J. commanded when he caught up to her.  His frown deepened on his broad forehead as he stopped beside Jim and observed the body.  �He�s wearing a uniform of some kind.  Maybe local police or county sheriff�s department.�           �He bled to death,� Street said.  He indicated the huge amber colored stain on the shirt and trousers.   The water and elements had bleached the stain as well as the fabric, but there was no doubt what it was, especially with the three frayed round holes in the abdomen area of the shirt.  �Looks like he was shot, and then thrown into the pond to hide the body.�  He looked up, and his eyes met those of his partners.           �Are you guys thinking what I�m thinking?� Luca asked, tensely.           �If you�re thinking that the killer might be the guy who came into our camp last night, then yeah, I�m thinking the same thing,� Street answered.  �He�s no vagrant, like I originally thought.  Obviously, he�s someone who is up here to escape the law.�           At the suggestion, all three men immediately looked at the terrain that surrounded them, searching for any evidence that the killer had lingered in the area.  They saw only the gently waving meadow grass, the placid ripples on the pond, and the woods.  Farther up the bank, the horses were grazing in the tall grass on their picket lines, swishing their tails back and forth across their flanks.           �He�s probably been living up here in the wilderness fishing in the pond, which would explain why we haven�t caught anything,� T. J. said.  �He�s emptied the ponds of fish and was looking in our packs for food.�           �And he�s probably the one who brought down the debris in that pass, hoping to discourage others from coming up here and finding him,� Luca added.  �This poor fellow here was probably either looking for him or investigating why that pass was cut off.�           �I wonder if he has any identification,� Street mused.           Glancing at the others to see if either would volunteer to conduct a hands-on investigation of the body, he found that both were nodding in agreement, but neither made a move toward it.  With a sigh, he squatted down beside it.  Trying not to look at the grinning skull and being careful to disturb as little as possible of the crime scene, he searched the shirt pockets first, but turned up nothing useful.  Next, he shoved his hands into the jacket pockets, but turned up only a pair of leather gloves, dry and cracked from the effects of the weather.           �See if he has a wallet,� Luca suggested.           Jim gave the younger officer a sharp glance as if to remind him that he would get to it.  Grimacing, he slipped his hand under the stiff skeletal remains and felt for the pocket.  Nothing in that one.  He stepped over the body and felt for the other pocket.  Ah-ha!  His fingers felt the hardness of a folded leather wallet, so he slipped his hands into the pocket and withdrew it.           Like the gloves, it had faired badly in the weather, but it was still intact, so he flipped it open.  Inside the protective plastic pocket was a driver�s license:  Everett Walters.  Like the license, the credit cards were still encased in their plastic sheath.  With a heavy heart, he flipped through the pictures that Everett Walters had held dear, pictures of a woman and two young boys, all badly damaged by the water yet still identifiable.           �He had a family,� he announced, indicating the pictures.  �They�ve probably wondered all this time what had happened to him.�           Luca looked around, again.  �I don�t know about you guys, but I�ve lost interest in fishing.�           �I agree,� Jim said.  �I think we should head back to camp.�  His eyes fell sympathetically on the victim again.  �There�s nothing we can do for him right now except report this to the authorities when we get back.  They can send out a chopper and an investigative team.�           T. J.�s eyes were following the progression of the sun.  �There won�t be time to get back before dark, and it�s too dangerous to travel on horseback after dark, so I guess we�ll have to stay there again overnight.�           �Lovely,� Luca groaned.           Leaving the murdered man where they had found him, they returned to the horses and saddled them up again.           As they mounted, Jim glanced across the valley at the lush green meadow in the distance.  �He certainly died in a lovely spot.  Look how green it is over there.�           From the saddle, Luca turned his head to look in the direction Jim had indicated, and observed the brilliant green patch that could be seen between the gaps in a nearby grove of trees.  His brow furrowed as he suddenly felt a stab of apprehension.  It was definitely green.  Perhaps a bit too uniformly green.           Noticing his troubled expression, T. J. asked, �Dom?  What�s wrong?�           �I�m not sure.  But I want to have a closer look at that meadow.�           Without waiting for the others, he nudged his gelding�s side, urging it into a canter as he approached the green field.  The others loped behind as he guided the horse through the gap in the trees and the field opened up before him, a huge sea of dark green plants.  Luca abruptly jerked back on the reins.  Startled, his horse locked its hind legs and came to a skidding stop.           �That isn�t meadow grass,� he said when they had stopped beside him.  �That�s marijuana.�           �You�re kidding,� Jim said.           �I kid you not.�           �It grows wild out here?� T. J. asked.           �In those nice, neat, cultivated rows?� Luca retorted.  �I don�t think so!  It�s all starting to make sense now.  This is a major drug operation!  And I do mean major!  Look at the size of that field!�           All three of them looked, and for several moments they were speechless as they observed the enormous expanse of marijuana plants that nodded and stirred in the gentle breeze.           �Is this part of Bob�s property?� Luca asked, breaking the silence.           �According to the map, yes,� T. J. replied.  �But I�d be willing to bet he doesn�t know about this, or he wouldn�t have sent us into this area.�           �Then that poor guy back there stumbled on it �� Luca began.           �Like we did!� Jim finished.  �Let�s get the hell outta here!�           Wheeling the horses around, they galloped headlong for the trees, slowing down only when they were safely inside the treeline.  Midge bounded along behind, trying to keep up with the longer strides of the horses.  They wasted no time crossing the stream and making their way back through the woods toward their campsite.           They were more than halfway there when they heard the sound of gunfire coming from their campsite.  It was muffled and distant, but there was no question that the sharp, popping sounds were from automatic weapons.  It was a sound they were well familiar with, in their line of work.           They pulled their horses to a stop, listening as the sounds went on and on for nearly two minutes before finally fading away.           �Talk about overkill,� Luca said.  �Especially since the camp was empty.�           �Obviously, they�re making a not-so-subtle statement:  Like �get the hell out�,� T. J. said.  �Without delay.  I suddenly wish I had brought my rifle,� he added, wistfully.  �Or at least my service revolver.�           �Yeah, me too,� Luca agreed.           �When we get close to camp, I would suggest tying the horses out of sight and walking in on foot,� Jim suggested           Moving more slowly and keeping well back in the trees, the three SWAT officers made their way back to their camp, wondering what they would find when they got there.