The Idaho Search and Rescue chopper lowered Stacey to the ground. Standing in the small clearing the unfortunate pilot picked, she quickly unfastened the harness and signaled she was safely on the ground. They sent down her backpack then the chopper departed.

The others in the search party would arrive soon. She wanted to check the area before more prints cluttered up the ground. Staring at the wreckage, the furrows in the ground, and the broken tree branches, Stacey realized the pilot did his best to save his passengers. He clipped several treetops to land in the small clearing then the plane slid into a huge Douglas fir. The cockpit and front section of the cabin were destroyed, but the rear section remained intact. It was probably the only chance for any survivors. Thankfully it had not burst into flames.

Shaking her head, Stacey propped her pack against the rear fuselage and worked outward in widening circles. Fresh tracks from the Search and Rescue team ended not far from the edges of the small clearing. She finally located what she sought in the trees west of the clearing. A carefully concealed trail led away from the wreckage. Hearing another chopper coming in, Stacey walked back toward the mangled plane to join the rest of the search party.

Cord unhooked his cable harness and saw the backpack leaning against the almost undamaged rear area of the plane. The tracker must already be here. Good, they could get started right away.

Even though there was no noise, he felt someone step from the woods. Whirling quickly, he wasn’t prepared for the sight of a young woman with a wild mane of strawberry blond curls, long legs encased in soft faded denim, and more than decent curves. Surely the tracker had more sense than to bring his girlfriend on a job like this.

“What are you doing here?” Cord snapped loudly as the cable rose toward the chopper above him.

“My name is Stacey Parker,” she yelled in a slightly breathy voice. “I was hired to help find the three missing men. And you are?” She arched one finely shaped brow.

“Cord McConnell. Who hired you?” he demanded as he unclipped his pack from the descending cable and waved to the chopper, then signaled for it to circle above.

“Morris Haley arranged it through a friend in Washington. Where’s the search party?” she asked when no one else descended from the bird overhead.

“I am the search party, along with the tracker who is supposed to be here. You can leave with the chopper.” McConnell moved to pick up her pack and bring it to her in the center of the clearing. Startled by the weight of it, he was certain she wouldn’t have made it far packing that load.

“I’m afraid not—Mr. McConnell is it? I’m the tracker who was hired. Unless you’ve made some other arrangements no one else is coming.” Stacey folded her arms and waited for his reaction.

“Then I’ll find the trail myself. Signal the chopper to lift you out,” he ordered brusquely as he shrugged into his pack.

“You won’t find the trail. They don’t want to be found.” She stepped nearer and spoke in a soft casual voice, “Unless you’re an expert, in which case you wouldn’t have needed a tracker, your chances are—oh, I’d say nonexistent.”

She definitely had his attention as he swung back toward her and got right in her face. “And you know this how?” Cord was more than mildly surprised when she didn’t take a step back. The top of her head came even with his chin and he made two of her in mass. He normally quelled men his own size with his attitude. But she defiantly stood her ground and stared up into his face.

“I located the trail. Or should I say I located where the trail had been before it was erased. One of them is very good at it, but I’m better.” Stacey didn’t flinch as he gritted his teeth and the two-inch scar on his left cheekbone and the smaller one over his right eyebrow whitened. The planes and angles of his face spoke of a North American Indian heritage and his dark hair and eyes confirmed it. McConnell was definitely fierce looking as he frowned threateningly down at her. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of even blinking as she stared up into the face right at the end of her upturned nose.

“I won’t wait on you if you fall behind and I don’t like whiners. I’m in charge and you do exactly as I say, regardless. Understand?” Cord poked her chest for emphasis then stepped away.

“I won’t wait on you if you fall behind either, and whining is for dogs. You’re welcome to be in charge and I’ll follow orders when I agree with them,” she responded as she lifted her own pack and slid her arms into the straps. She began walking from the clearing without waiting to see what he would do.

“That went well, McConnell,” he said under his breath. He finally gave the signal to the chopper allowing it to leave and followed her. As he watched her strides he could tell her backpack seemed well balanced and carried comfortably, her footwear far from new. The battered hiking boots were a good brand, and she moved with the ease of someone familiar with the woods.

Up ahead, Stacey was thinking about the man following her. Just wait until I tell Cathy about this jerk. He must have been a drill sergeant and thought somebody died and made him the Great Leader. Well, he would find out that wasn’t going to work this trip. Evidently he scared people off with his super macho act, but he never ran into Stacey Parker before.