They kept climbing. The terrain grew increasingly rocky and rugged as they ascended the mountain slope. The slope increased, slowing their progress.
“If we can get to the top of this hill, we can move along the ridge up there and then try to come back down circle around Hauer,” Cole said. “I’d like to get back to that valley if we can. If we can find that trail out of there, we can hoof it back to the lodge. With any luck, Hauer won’t be any the wiser and he’ll set up here, looking for us.”
“We ought to see if we can make it look like we reached the top and went down the other side,” Danny said. “He’ll go that way, looking for us.”
Cole nodded. “I always knew you were a Cole, through and through,” he said. “I should have thought of that myself.”
With their goal in mind, they pushed harder toward the summit. The trees thinned out and Cole worried about being exposed, but Danny’s plan to make it look as if they had gone down the other side of the ridge was a good one. He just hoped that Hauer would fall for it — so far, the German had proved himself to be a good tracker.
The ground became more treacherous because fallen leaves covered the rocks and small boulders, making their footing slippery and hiding good footing. They hadn’t gone more than another fifty feet when Danny suddenly cried out and fell. He lost his grip on the rifle, which clattered to the rocks.
“It’s my ankle!” he said.
Cole went to help him. Sure enough, his grandson’s foot had caught between two rocks that held it securely as a vise. With his left hand, he helped to work Danny’s boot free.
“Can you put any weight on it?”
Danny stood and hobbled for a few feet, his face wincing in pain. “Wow, that hurts. Is it broken?”
“Let me see it a minute.” Cole felt the ankle, which was already beginning to swell. As best he could, Cole tugged the boot laces tight.
“Ow! What are you doing? Shouldn’t we take that boot off?”
“No, leave it on. Your ankle is sprained, most likely.” Cole thought the ankle might be broken, but he didn’t say that to Danny. Anyhow, a bad sprain was just as serious as a broken ankle. “The boot will give it some support. Sit down a minute and catch your breath.”
Picking his way carefully over the rocks, he made his way to where the rifle had fallen. Thankfully, the costly Leica scope wasn’t cracked. He checked to make sure that the muzzle was free of debris. The beautiful stock was now marred by a big scratch, but otherwise, the rifle seemed fine. This was a fancy customized version, but at its heart the Springfield was a tough nut to crack.
Next, he sat down next to Danny and used the hunting knife to cut some strips of cloth from the tail of his shirt. Some he used to bind up Danny’s ankle. He handed the rest of the cloth strips to Danny and told him to bandage Cole’s wounded arm. They both had a long drink of water from the canteen, and then Cole announced it was time to keep moving.
“I don’t think I can walk on that ankle.”
“You ain’t got any choice,” Cole said. “Here, grab hold of my shoulder.”
The two of them hobbled up the hill, struggling for each step, with Danny keeping weight off his ankle and Cole nursing his arm.
“We’re a fine pair,” Cole said.
“Now what?”
“Let’s get to the top of this ridge and see if we can put Hauer off the trail, then hoof it out of here as best we can.” After that, Cole hated to admit it to Danny, but they were out of options. All that they could do was run and hide.
They made their play to put Hauer on a false trail. By the time the sun was starting to sink below the hills, they had made it back down the mountain, making a wide loop to dodge Hauer.
“Almost there,” Cole said, encouraging Danny.
“Downhill isn’t any easier.” Danny grimaced. “Boy, this ankle hurts. Are you sure it’s not broken? I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”
Cole cast about for some way to keep Danny distracted. Their predicament brought to mind the story of Cole’s cousin, Deacon Cole. Like Cole, he had served in the war, but in the Pacific, fighting the Japanese.
“Did I ever tell you about Cousin Deacon?” Cole asked.
“Didn’t I meet him?”
“Sure, once or twice when you were a young ‘un. I’m surprised you remember.”
“I remember him a little.”
“Well now, Cousin Deacon was mauled by a bear when he was just a boy. He was trying to protect his sister and that bear chewed him up good. He had the scars to prove it. It’s a wonder that bear didn’t kill him. It took him months just to get around again.”
“I remember the scars,” Danny said. “They were hard to look at. I remember being scared of him.”
“Cousin Deacon used to say that during the war he went through some hard times, all that fighting in the islands, but he kept going. He said that he figured if the bear hadn’t killed him, then he sure as hell wasn’t going to let the Japanese do it.”
“That’s a good story, Pa Cole, but I twisted my ankle. I didn’t get attacked by a bear.”
“The point is that Deacon Cole was tough. That bear made him that way. Who’s to say this ordeal ain’t your version of the bear?”
Danny fell silent, thinking it over. He didn’t complain again about the pain in his ankle.
Cole thought it was too much to hope that Hauer had taken the bait and followed the false trail down the other side of the mountain. Under different circumstances, the majestic surroundings of the Vosges Mountains and the European forest in autumn would have been stunning in and of themselves. However, Cole and Danny were injured, hungry and cold, and hunted by a deadly opponent. By the time they reached the valley below, they felt exhausted.
For now, they were sheltering at the edge of the forest, keeping to the cover of the trees with the open valley visible. He hadn’t wanted to spend another night in these hills, but here they were. They had not eaten anything in more than twenty-four hours, and with their injuries and the cool autumn weather, it was starting to take its toll.
“How much longer do you think we’ll be out here?” Danny asked. “I’m starving.”
“Me too,” Cole said. “One way or another, I promise you that we won’t be out here another night.”
“What about Herr Hauer?”
“It’s me that he’s after,” Cole said. While coming down the mountain, he had begun to slowly put a plan together that might mean at least one of them would survive this mess. The time had come to share his plan with Danny. “I’ve been thinking that I’ll lead him off into the woods, and he and I will finish this, one way or another. While we’re doing that, you can head down toward the neck of the valley and find the trail out of here. If we cut you a crutch, you should be fine.”
Danny shook his head. “No way! With your arm and shoulder like that, there’s no way you can shoot back at him.”
“I can still shoot,” Cole lied.
His grandson shook his head emphatically. “We are in this together, Pa Cole. There’s no way I’m leaving you here by yourself.”
If Danny was going to be stubborn, then so was Cole. Stubbornness was a family trait. “Boy, I’ve got to be honest with you. I don’t know that I can beat Hauer at this game. At my age, I’ve lost a step or two. Hell, maybe I’ve lost three or four steps. The best that I can hope to do is buy you some time to get to safety. One of us needs to survive this.”
Danny didn’t say anything for a while, and Cole felt relieved. He was sure that Danny was going to agree to the plan. Considering the shape he was in — cold, hungry, and in pain — who wouldn’t opt for a way out?
But Danny surprised him. The light was fading fast, but Cole could see that his grandson’s eyes, which were normally a soft brown, had turned dark and hard. Those eyes reminded Cole of Norma Jean’s when she was feeling determined.