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Note to reader: EnDeavours Publishing (David C. Deavours) originally published Kootenai Moon under the title "Saving Eden,"© 2009. Saving Eden has been re-edited and retitled to provide commerical separation from similar titles as well as receiving edits to become a collective Dark Forests Novel. 

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Kootenai Moon - Sneak Peek

 

Prologue

Northwest Montana - Kootenai River Country 1833

 

The great river meandered in the valley like a giant green snake slithering through tall brown grass. Its currents were swift and cold, able to take any man off his feet, but that didn’t prevent Stares at the Moon from wading in and fishing his favorite reach of the river—a set of modest rapids calming to a slow glide. Standing tall and partially shading this stretch of the river like a sentinel, stood an ancient cottonwood tree, ghostly in appearance with large branches that could seemingly snatch a person up from the earth.

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Stares at the Moon’s long fishing spear helped maintain his balance as he placed each foot on the slippery rocked river bottom. It was a beautiful fall morning, and he hoped to catch enough fish to feed his small family and perhaps some for the elders who were not able to hunt or fish without difficulty.The leaves of the cottonwoods and birch had turned brilliant orange and yellow with the shorter days of the season. A number of leaves were falling gently down to the river surface only to be carried downstream like carefree thoughts. Stares at the Moon could feel the warmth of the fall sun on his face, even though the day had started with a light frost. He wasn’t fishing alone. Across the river and toward the north stood a great blue heron, waiting patiently atop a rock, watching dutifully for any movement of life in the clear waters below. In the distance the familiar gull-like call of a bald eagle, looking for its mate.

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He thought, soon there will be many eagles roosting along the river, for winter is fast approaching.

Relaxed in the warm morning sun, he had become complacent while fishing and allowed his brother to sneak up on him.

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“Marriage and fatherhood have dulled your senses,” whispered Marked by the Bear, as he slipped beside his brother and approached without making a sound. “I could have been a great bear and had you for breakfast if I wanted.”

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“Perhaps,” replied Stares at the Moon without turning and acknowledging his brother. “You do know more about being eaten by a bear, my brother. If a bear did decide to eat me for breakfast, I hope he would appreciate this place by the river as much as I do.”

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Annoyed, he continued, “Why are you disturbing me this morning; what is it that you want?”

 “Cannot a brother just visit another without wanting something?” asked Marked by the Bear.

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“Not when the brother is you.”

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And just as Stares at the Moon turned to look at his brother, Marked by the Bear secretly reached for his knife …

 

 

Chapter 1 - Present Day

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The constant hum of tires rolling on pavement was slowly lulling him to sleep. He had awoken at 5 a.m. to get an early start out of Buffalo, Wyoming and would soon be entering the state in which he would spend his summer working as a student employee. It was the third of July, and the sun rose early and set late during that time of year in the Intermountain West. By the time he crossed the Montana state line, the sun had brilliantly peaked over the eastern horizon. He pulled over his truck to watch the sunrise and stretch his restless legs. Even though sleep still had a grip on him, he believed he would witness more beautiful Montana sunrises in years to come. Still, this one was special: it was his first in the state he had always dreamed of visiting. Today Nate Stone was casting his first shadow in the Treasure State.

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The shrub-steppe landscape, covered with sagebrush and littered with small juniper trees, was nothing like the scenic road corridors back home in Tennessee, often limited by smoky-hazed mountains blanketed in Southern hardwoods and rhododendron. Never in his life had he seen such vast, open, country already beginning to brown in the hot July sun. Nate wondered if he had ever seen Tennessee this brown, even during autumn.

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While stretching his legs, he checked under the vehicle for leaks out of instinct, chalking it up to good practice during long road trips. He glanced over the pale blue paint of the body and the pitted chrome of the bumper. He checked the front license plate, which read in fading orange letters: “Speedwell Volunteer Fire Department.” The plate was reminder of his Grandpa Jake Stone, and he began to reflect on that dreadful fall day.

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Nate had returned to college for his junior year. Grandpa Jake, out working the farm as typical, was found dead from a heart attack. Propped against a bale of hay, he looked as if he had sat down for a picnic. His favorite smoking pipe still burning when the ambulance arrived. The smell of Sir Walter Raleigh cherry tobacco filled the air. Straw cowboy hat sat firmly on his head; hands still protected by working gloves. Abby, his little Australian shepherd, sat tight against him, sensing something was wrong. The scene was so surreal the ambulance crew hesitated disturbing him. Grandpa Jake was certainly at a peaceful place, there in his hayfield.

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Nate was still haunted by Grandpa Jake’s death. He had been Nate’s hero, his mentor, who raised him after he lost his parents in a car accident when he was still a boy. Because of his age, Grandpa Jake had made every minute count and had ensured that Nate received a sound education and learned everything from the tree species of East Tennessee to basic auto mechanics.

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 “Why do I need to learn all this stuff?” he recalled asking his Grandpa Jake while hauling hay out to the cows. “I really don’t care what kind of tree that is, and I don’t care what kind of bird is flying over there either.”

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“You may not today,” Grandpa Jake had answered sternly. “But someday you will grow to understand why it is important to know these things and what you have in common with that tree, that little brown bird sitting on the fence, and Old Scar the catfish that keeps breaking our fishin’ poles. When that day comes you will appreciate what I have just said and hopefully, you will take this information and make a difference in the world.”

 

The rush of passing vehicle snapped his thoughts back to Montana. His Grandma Nita had not been keen on the idea of him venturing so far from home into a state he knew nothing about.

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Why does the thought of me working and exploring in Montana bother Grandma Nita? he wondered. Where is the danger?

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He knew she didn’t fear him roaming around in the forest because his Grandpa Jake had taught him how to survive out in the wild. Yet the thought of what Grandma Nita had against Montana kept nagging at him.

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“Why don’t you go work in Colorado, Nate?” Grandma Nita had said. “I hear it is a beautiful state with high mountain lakes, large groves of aspen trees, and no grizzly bears. Colorado sounds like a wonderful place where all things live in harmony; John Denver wouldn’t steer you wrong, sonny boy.”

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“No thanks. I am tired of hearing about Colorado,” Nate had respectfully replied. “And nowhere do all things live in harmony. That’s a false notion. Besides, I have already accepted a position in Montana, and I look forward to seeing my first grizzly bear in the wild. Montana is exactly where I want to be this summer … before it too is lost to ‘progress’.”

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“I am disappointed in your attitude, and your grandfather would be too!” she had replied, her brow furrowed with frustration. “There is a lot a person can do to help better the world.”

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“As much as I want to believe that I believe you have just been on this farm too long. We both have. All you have to do is listen to the news.”

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“Don’t believe everything you hear, sonny boy,” Grandma Nita had replied insistently. “I still say you should go to Colorado.”

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