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From Ashes - A Deep Canyon Tale

by Ida Mae Ireland

278 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #02-0499; ISBN 1-55369-686-7; US$27.00, C$36.20, EUR23.60, £16.40

Suffering from an early childhood trauma, Casey Garrett, wilderness guide, loses everything she treasures. She finds her sanity, her true identitity and the man of her dreams.

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about the book      about the author      sample excerpts      catalogue info

About the Book FROM ASHES - A Deep Canyon Tale, a romantic novel of the West, revolves on the theme that life restores after tragedy. This theme touches every reader's experience either directly or vicariously. In FROM ASHES - A Deep Canyon Tale, the heroine, Casey Garrett, suffers from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and gradually succumbs to the horrors of a seemingly forgotten trauma. Her spine-tingling story showcases the healing power of family love. FROM ASHES - A Deep Canyon Tale unfolds in pristine Montana wilderness during elk season. Casey, world-renown guide, experiences puzzling flashbacks and frightening nightmares while she contends with a rogue hunter and survives an employee's treachery, a grizzly attack and a fierce mountain blizzard. Casey's loving family, both in this life and beyond it, nourishes her ability to expunge stress disorder demons. Wilderness adventures and the heroine's unique story set FROM ASHES - A Deep Canyon Tale apart from other western novels. Multilevel plot development captures readers' imaginations through human encounters and wilderness descriptions and scenes. Readers gain insight into the mysterious horrors of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and the inexorable progress of the illness. Most importantly, readers applaud Casey's recovery through the power of family love abetted by professional assistance. Your comments about FROM ASHES - A DEEP CANYON TALE are welcome ENJOY! You can reach Ida Mae Ireland by e-mail at: idaireland@aol.com

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About the Author Born in Michigan years ago, I called Colorado home for twenty-five years before retiring to my home state. I am married, have two married daughters and four granddaughters. I've worn many "hats" in my lifetime in the following order: Sibling, student, wife, mother, friend, Welcome Wagon Hostess, college student, English teacher, author of a writing manual, manager of writing instructors in industry, and currently, author/publisher. I entered Denver's Red Rocks Community College then completed a Master's degree at the University of Denver in my forties. I taught basic writing skills in industry and college in my fifties, but my glorious sixties found me writing FROM ASHES A DEEP CANYON TALE, the story of my heart. Do share this odyssey with me and visit my web page for more information. http://www.askidamae.com

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Sample Excerpts

from Chapter 12

(The last elk hunt of the season in Montana's Bob Marshal wilderness...)

The firewood burned to a fine ash, but an occasional flame flashed before fading into night. A few sparks flew, crackled, and flickered before flaring out. Casey rubbed the small white spot on her left wrist, remembering. What? She rubbed the spot again.
The moon, rising over eastern peaks, cast long shadows from tall trees whispering secrets to the night breezes. Casey and Joe slouched, staring into the fire, hands dangling between knees. After sitting for several quiet minutes, Casey rose, patted Joe's bent head. "I like ending the season with a successful hunt like this. We've had a good year, and we found elk every time."
"Too short for me," Joe replied, glancing skyward at the brilliant stars taking over the heavens now that the moon was under cloud cover. A bank of heavy clouds had crept over western peaks, but Joe's mind did not register the warning. Casey, lost in her thoughts, had not seen the change-in-weather threat.
Joe's heart ached. The season is over, he thought. She'll move in with Ralph and Dora. I can't wait to see how much work the contractors finished. Casey will be surprised. I'll bet the basement's dug and concrete poured. She'll love the logs with 12-inch diameters. His face creased into a smile. "We'd best turn in," he said.
Casey nodded, absent-mindedly scattering coals before dumping the ever-ready bucket of water into the fire pit. He doesn't seem concerned that this trip may be my last, she thought. "What did you say?"
"I said, I don't know how I could've managed this season if you hadn't been head guide. I really appreciate you putting your life on hold to help me."
Her heart raced, her breathing became difficult. "Guiding has been my life. I've tried to adjust to not being an outfitter anymore." Casey's eyes glowed.
"Did you succeed?"
"Not really."
Joe turned, preventing Casey from seeing hope revealed in his eyes. They entered the sleeping tent. During the night, tent flaps rattled ominously. Casey stirred then turned over before settling back into her bedroll.
Sleepless, Joe listened to the rising wind. A shiver traced along his spine before he turned to his stomach and slept. Much later he checked his watch. 4:30. Won't be daylight for a while, he thought. We should hit the trail at first light. He dressed and quietly left the tent.

* * *

"Casey? Casey?"
She stirred, opened her eyes. Joe stood with his back toward her. Snow covered his shoulders. Immediately awake, she threw her sleeping bag off then shivered in intense cold. "What time is it?"
"Five thirty. I've got breakfast ready. Teresa and Bob are getting their tent dismantled."
"What's wrong? Why didn't you wake me sooner?" She smoothed her bedroll, quickly rolled and tied it, pulled her warmest clothes from her duffel bag, then retied it.
"Snow's fallen, deep snow. You needed sleep." "How bad? You should've called me." "Worst I've seen this early in the season, blowing around in a fierce wind, already drifted in places. I've got the horses saddled and the pack string ready to go except for the tents. We need to hurry, now." The wind pushed the tent wall against Casey's shoulder with painful force. She dressed quickly, pulling on thermal underwear over the silk long johns she had worn for sleeping, covered that with heavy wool riding pants, added another silk camisole before shrugging into her cotton/wool blend turtleneck sweater. She reached for two pairs of wool socks and silk liners and grabbed her insulated boots. She put on a heavy wool shirt then covered it with a down vest.
Joe entered the tent then removed his parka and rummaged in his duffel bag for another wool shirt and his down vest. They both tucked Balaclavas and extra pairs of wool gloves into their hooded-parka pockets. Casey wrapped two wool scarves around her neck, reached for a wool stocking cap. "I can't move, and I don't have my parka on."
Her joking upset Joe. "It'll be real cold riding today."
Casey sobered immediately, turned sparkling eyes toward Joe, and grabbed the opportunity to tease. "Been a long time since you faced a Montana blizzard eh?"
"Where did this storm come from? All the predictions called for a dry week."
"Since when could we depend on predictions? Dad could tell when a storm was coming when his left big toe hurt."
Joe pursed his lips, "I, I..."
"What?"
"I saw the storm clouds last night. I should've told you."
Casey shrugged. "So we lost some time. I don't like night riding with guests."
He stuck his head outside but couldn't tell if snow was falling or drifting in the wind. Worry filled his mind and ambushed his heart. Will we reach the ranch today? He thought. It's several hours in the best of weather. So much snow. More falling. He shivered. I dread the trail on stormy nights.
They tied their duffels, grabbed their gear, and stepped outside. The wind blasted their faces, turned their breath into tiny icicles. Struggling against repeated gusts, they dismantled their tent then waded twelve inches of new snow to the corral.
Teresa and Bob waited in the cook tent. Bob's eyes darted restlessly, but Teresa's danced. "Now, I'll have two stories to tell: My trophy elk and a real blizzard adventure. Lighten up, Bob. The horses will get us home."
"I'm glad you think so."
Joe dropped his gear, poured coffee into mugs, dished up a breakfast of fried potatoes, thick slices of bacon, and scrambled eggs.
"Eat hearty," Casey said. "Our next meal will be cold jerky and high protein bars." Holding out a nearly full box of protein bars, she continued.
"Put several of these in your saddle bags. Fill your canteens with water. We have a few apples left, put them in your pants pockets so they won't freeze."
Joe began filling a soft pack with dirty cooking utensils. He had already set the cook stove outside to cool. Within thirty minutes, the tent was down. They were packed and ready to leave.
Before starting out, Casey made sure the guests were properly dressed, had Balaclavas over their faces, extra socks in their shoes, heavy gloves on their hands, and extra mittens in their pockets. She could hardly see them huddled on their horses.
Joe tied shovels to his and Casey's saddles, knowing they would be shoveling before Route Creek Pass. He gave the best trail ride directions he could under blizzard conditions. "Stay close, follow the trail we break for you. Please don't leave the line for any reason. Give your horse his head. He knows these trails, even under snow. I've put bells on all the horses and mules. If you can't hear a bell, holler. Loud." He signaled Casey to start. Billy Bob pushed through the deepening snow.

* * *

Three hours later, near the abandoned Wrong Creek Ranger Station, Casey pulled gently on the reins. Billy Bob stopped. She patted his neck, silently thanking him for unerringly following the snow covered winding trail into the valley. Billy Bob lowered his head to nose through the snow looking unsuccessfully for grass. The wind was down, but the snow sifted relentlessly over them, and huge flakes created snow creatures huddled on their horses the way winter pigeons lumped on telephone wires.
Joe rode ahead. "Should I take the lead now, Casey? Let your horse rest a bit?"
"Would you? We better take a pee break here before starting up the mountain." She yelled for Teresa and Bob to dismount. When the hunters started away from the horses, Casey yelled, "Stay close." Turning to Joe, she asked, "I wonder if Ralph's crew got out yesterday? We need to make sure."
Before Joe could answer, a shout pierced the white out. "Ha---loo, Ha---loo." Ralph, looking like a snowman riding a moving white rock emerged into view. Stretched out behind him the way a train straggles on its tracks were four hunters, sixteen mules loaded with gear and elk quarters, the new camp cook, and three wranglers. Most of this caravan was shrouded in swirling snow. The long line moved closer together, finally stopped behind Ralph. Horses and mules snorted and stomped, reaching to grab bites of snow. Their jaws slowly masticated as the melted snow trickled down dry throats.
"What a coincidence," Casey joked. "Are you snow people heading for Route Creek Pass? Are you going to brave the high barren stretches where the snow flies crazily the way bats caught in a net struggle to get free?"
"Dare we go that way in this storm?" Ralph asked, more concerned than he wanted his hunters and wranglers to know.
Casey looked at Ralph, then at Joe before she replied. "What do you suggest,
Joe? That we camp here and sit out the storm?"
"No, from the looks of things, we would be buried."
"What then?" Casey wriggled her toes against the cold.
Joe raised his eyebrows, shrugged. The storm seems to be coming from the south. Even so, Route Creek is the shortest distance to the ranch. We need to get folks there."
Ralph pushed snow off his shoulders. "If snowdrifts close the pass, we could be stranded."
"We've got to try," Joe said. "If we can't make it up Route Creek, we'll turn off and take the Nesbit Pass trail. It's longer, but it follows the creek drainage."
Ralph turned to Casey. "Have you ridden over Nesbit Pass?"
"Not this year."
"I rode it in between October trips when I toured several trails," Joe said.
"Nesbit isn't used much, but it was passable, slightly lower elevation than Route Creek, more trees to prevent heavy drifting. It's our backup choice, plan B if you will."
Casey grinned, thinking, I'm glad Joe is responsible, I'd hate to be working alone right now. She said, "You're the boss. Will our radios work to let Pete know what we're doing?"
"I don't get anything but static," Ralph said.
Joe brushed at the snow collecting on his facemask. "No use trying again until we get to a higher elevation."
Casey looked toward Teresa and Bob. Teresa's broad smile was fading as Bob commented on the severity of their situation. "Bob, please help Teresa with a bit of lunch before we start ahead," Casey said. Her heart knew that everyone would be taxed beyond normal limits before this trip was over. She had to maintain positive attitudes.

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Catalogue Information

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