Stoner McTavish by Sarah Dreher

Author:Sarah Dreher [Dreher, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Mystery & Detective, Fiction, Women Sleuths, Lesbian, General, Lesbians, Women Detectives, United States, Lesbians in Literature, McTavish; Stoner (Fictitious Character)
ISBN: 9780934678063
Google: T5taAAAAMAAJ
Amazon: 0934678065
Publisher: New Victoria Publishers
Published: 1985-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

Jenny Lake is known as the jewel of the Tetons, but under the rain the jewel is more pearl than sapphire. A shell-like depression at the base of Teewinot and Mt. St. John, its icy waters are freshened by glacial runoff and melting snow from Cascade Creek. Rich, dark earth, left behind by the glacier that gouged the lake and Cascade Canyon to the west, nurtures a dense forest of pine and fir.

Stoner touched a boulder that lay at the side of the trail. Its jagged surface tore at her hand. Immediately beyond the forest towered the mountain walls. Without the distraction of sun and sky, the granite stood out stark and rough, with knife-like edges and points. She walked to the north edge of the lake and looked back at the Cathedrals. They, too, had changed. In the sullen morning air they were ragged, hard, menacing. Single firs stood like guards against implacable rock. Torn and shredded clouds fingered their way between razor-sharp peaks. Tree trunks glistened in the dark overhang of woods. Jenny Lake was hard, and gray as pewter.

Stoner felt herself draw back as if threatened. This was not nice, not nice at all. She was glad she hadn’t gone up into those mountains today. They looked as though they would eat you alive. Hurrying to Jenny Lake junction, she picked up her maps and nearly ran back to Timberüne Lodge.

She built a roaring fire in the fireplace and changed out of her dripping clothes. Stretching out on the rug in front of the fire, she spread the maps and settled down to the task of finding a perfect spot for murder.

It had to be steep, but not impassable by pack train. All of the trails followed streams, but how high above the water were the paths? If they were level with the streambeds, there would be little or no drop-off. She needed a drop steep enough to kill a person, or guarantee the body would never be recovered.

Avalanche Canyon, despite its ominous name, followed Taggart Creek in a fairly gentle rise westward toward Mt. Wister. The creek branched, one arm stretching west to Shoshoko Falls and Lake Taminah. This, according to Petzoldt, was not a difficult climb. But who knew what he considered “difficult”, crusty old masochist that he was? Still and all, she was inclined to reject it.

The South Fork, however, ascended sharply. There was no vegetation marked on the map. It must be above the timberline, or scraped bare for other reasons. She recalled the cruel rock she had touched. It would rip the flesh from your body as surely as a school of starving pirhanas. With a felt-tip pen, she marked the South Fork of Taggart Creek as a possibility.

Bannock was next. For more than a mile the trail overlapped Cascade Canyon Trail, according to the guidebooks a popular and much used attraction. Then it crossed Cascade Creek and cut southwest along a feeder stream, between Owen and Teewinot. The contour lines were tightly bunched here, the timber sparse.

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