Nick watched Ellen's auburn ponytail sway from side to side as she moved farther and farther away.  It had been a long hike, and he really didn't care to keep up with her anymore.  He knew that, after a while, her shapely legs would tire and she would park that heavenly butt of hers on a rock or a log, maybe snap a picture or two, and then wait for him to catch up.  He would grab her by the wrists and pull her upright as she protested - while flashing a smile that could melt a glacier - that she was too exhausted to go on.  Then she'd be off again, almost trotting down the trail, leaving him to stumble after her.

He'd known her for seven years now, five as her husband, and it was always that way.  Ellen loved to hike through the dense forests with an addict's devotion.  It was almost as if she couldn't consume the trails fast enough.  Nick enjoyed hiking himself but preferred to savor the experience.  He humored her, though, put up with her pell-mell pace without protest, because it cleared her head so marvelously.  All her worries and confusion evaporated in the cool woods, and she became that other Ellen, the one he'd fallen for seven years ago - the sweet, childlike woman who could weep over a dead bird.

"Come on, Nick!"  she said, glancing over her shoulder.  "Come on, pokey!"

They had met by accident in the law office where he worked.  She had come to photograph the firm's partners for a new brochure and was introduced to him only as "the photographer."  "Ellen," she'd added in a breathy voice while shaking his hand.  "You must call me Ellen.  Please."  She had one of those rare faces that was both beautiful and intriguing.  There was a hint of pain behind her smile, some story waiting to be told.  Immediately, he had wanted to know all about her.

"Hey - hey!"  Ellen called.  She was almost invisible behind the foliage ahead.  "Come here, Nick.  Quick.  I found something kind of strange and wonderful."  Probably some wild flowers or an odd tree fungus, he thought, as he trotted after her - she was fascinated by the small wonders of nature.  But as he drew closer he saw that this really was something unusual.  There was a tall, pointed structure made of what looked like burlap nestled in a clearing ahead.  She took his sweaty hand in hers and giggled.  "It's a tepee," she said.

Nick was inclined keep moving down the trail, but he knew that Ellen would want him to investigate - she loved it when he played the intrepid hero.  She had seen too many movies, but it amused him that she could see him in those terms, and he loved being "brave" for her.  From their first meeting, Ellen had brought out the protector in him - some primeval male imperative to defend the weak.

They shoved some branches aside and moved closer.  The tent had been painted with random, zigzag patterns - not by Native Americans, obviously, but by someone playing Indian.  He found an opening, a rough doorway cut in the fabric.  It was dark inside.  "Shall I look in there?"  Nick said, more to himself than to Ellen.  "Maybe not," she whispered.  "I'm getting a little scared here."

"Probably just some boy scouts."  He thrust his head through the opening.  The tepee was empty, except for a charred spot in the center where there had been a tiny camp fire.  "Nothing," he said, pulling his head out.  "Nothing to be afraid of."

But then a cough - an adult, male cough - came from the other side of the tent.  Ellen gasped and grabbed his arm.

"Who's there?"  Nick said.  The only response was an "Uh," from the other side to the tepee.  He couldn't tell if it was a moan of pain or just a grunt of uncertainty.  He pried Ellen loose and stepped around.

"What the hell . . . "  Nick began.  The man on the other side was tied to a pine tree with several thick ropes.  He was tall, thin, dark-haired - not unlike Nick - and dressed only in jeans and sneakers.  The word SCALPED had been scrawled on his naked chest with red paint or lipstick.  He appeared to be in his early 30's, a little younger than Nick, and he wore an expression of embarrassment mixed with fear.

"Its okay, Ellen," Nick said.  "Come over here."  She peered around the side of the tepee, then moved quickly over to him.  He put his arm around her.  "It's okay," he said.  "I think.  Who are you?"

The stranger stared at him for a few seconds.  Then he said:  "I'm from Toronto."

There was an awkward silence, filled only by the sound of wind rushing through the trees.  "And?"  Nick said.

The man explained that he and several of his friends had been camping in the park, "playing cowboys and Indians."  He had been "captured," which involved being tied to the tree, and he was now waiting for his friends to come back and untie him.  When Ellen asked him his name, he replied, "Injun Joe."  Nick rolled his eyes.

"How long have you been tied here?"  Ellen said.

"Joe" gazed at her and smiled slightly.  "About half an hour, I think."

"Do you want us to untie you?"  she said.

"No!  Uh, no.  They're going to be back here any minute now."

"Well, do you want some water or some food?"  Ellen said.  "We've got plenty of both."

The man looked longingly at their backpacks.  "No, I'm fine.  Really.  They'll be back to untie me soon.  It's part of the game."

"I see," Nick said.  He was reminded of games he'd played with his brothers as a kid, back in Brooklyn - stickball, king of the hill, sometimes pirates or cowboys and Indians.  He couldn't remember playing any of those games past the age of 10 or 11.  His family had been nearly destitute, and he and his brothers had grown up fast.  They all had part-time jobs by the time they were teenagers, and they were grown men, out on their own, by 18.  Adults playing cowboys and Indians - he couldn't quite fathom it.

"Well, I guess there's not much else to say then," Nick said.  "We'll be on our way.  Good luck with your . . . game."

The man nodded.

"Are you sure you're alright?"  Ellen said.  "Those ropes - they look so tight."

"I'm OK.  It's just a game."

They found their way back to the trail, with Ellen looking back a few times before the tepee was out of sight.  "My God," she said.  "How weird.  I hope he's OK."

"Crazy," Nick said.

Ellen stayed close to him for a change as they resumed the hike.  She didn't speak much, and she didn't stop to take any pictures.  Nick assumed she was thinking about "Injun Joe," worrying about him the way she fretted over starving cats and wilting flowers.  He felt he should say something to comfort her - but what?  What could he say to this 32-year-old that would ease her anxious mind?  It was a question he had asked himself too many times in the last seven years.  He began to feel exhausted again.

They reached a one-lane road that cut through the park and decided to follow it for a while.  After a few minutes, they came to a log hut with a sign out front that read RANGER STATION.  There was a pick-up truck in the driveway alongside the hut, and through its open window they could see a ranger sitting behind the wheel.  He was smoking a cigarette.

"Maybe we should tell him about . . . Injun Joe," Nick said.  Ellen nodded eagerly.

"Excuse me . . . "  he began, walking over to the truck.  The ranger was young, blond and chubby.  He glanced at Nick, took the cigarette out of his mouth, blew some smoke, and then gave Ellen a long look.  "Yes?"  he said.

"There's a guy back there in the woods . . . ."  He suddenly realized how ridiculous what he was about to say would sound.  "He might be in some kind of trouble."

"Really?  What kind of trouble?"  The ranger kept looking at Ellen.

"He's tied to a tree," Nick said.  "He says his friends did it, and that they're coming back to untie him.  But maybe you should check it out."

"Where in the woods?"

"Back along the nearest hiking trail, about a mile.  He's next to a tent, uh, a tepee."

"A tepee?"  The ranger gave Nick a skeptical look.

"Yeah.  Apparently, they're playing some kind of game.  Cowboys and Indians."

"Cowboys and Indians."

"That's what he said."

"Yeah.  OK, we'll check it out.  I gotta go over to Blue Lake first, though.  But we'll get up there sometime this afternoon."

"Oh, please, can't you go _now_?"  Ellen said.  "I've got this funny feeling that something is wrong."

"Don't worry, lady," the ranger said.  "People play all kinds of games in these woods.  Paintball, mostly.  We have to chase them out of here several times a month.  You wouldn't believe some of the crazy . . . garbage that goes on."  He dropped his cigarette onto the driveway and started the truck.  "I got to go over to Blue Lake.  Illegal campfire.  I'll check out your tied-up man later, but I can tell you right now he'll probably be long gone by the time I get there."  The truck pulled out onto the road and roared away.

"We have to go back and help him," Ellen said.

"Oh, come on . . . ."

"Yes, we have to.  Please, let's go back now."

Nick looked at his watch.  "We've got to get home soon.  I've got briefs to go over tonight."

"He could be in trouble.  What if . . . What if an animal came, and . . . ."

"Ugh, honey.  The rangers will take care of it."

"That'll be hours from now.  You heard him, that . . . idiot.  Don't - stop patronizing me."

"It's not our problem."

"That's a callous thing to say."  She looked like she was about to weep.  "You never care about anybody but yourself."

"That's ludicrous."

"I'm . . . I'll go back myself."  She turned and started to jog back down the road.  Nick sighed and began to follow, not bothering to hurry.

Ellen was already far ahead of him when he reached the trail.  He decided to continue walking at his own pace.  The whole thing was silly - Injun Joe, the ranger, all this absurd tramping though the forest.

Seven years!  Seven years of being Ellen's "rock," as she sometimes called him, her shelter from all emotional storms, and she was still the same . . . girl.  A girl who lost half her freelance assignments because she couldn't keep to a schedule, who had left him twice because she felt "suffocated," who talked as much to her psychiatrist as she did to him.  In the long run, was he helping her?  Someday she'll mature, he had always told himself.  She just needs somebody to care about her, to shore her up on the bad days.

That's what he told himself, except when his inner bastard spoke up, the part of himself he hated but couldn't always suppress.  The inner bastard whispered that he was a classic sucker - being bled by an emotional vampire.  "It's you or her," the devil would say.  "Sink or swim."

"Shut up, shut up, shut up, cruel fucker," Nick would silently chant to himself.

He used to think that motherhood would help.  But three miscarriages in the early years of their marriage had quashed that idea.  "I don't really want to be a mom anyway," Ellen had said after the third try.  "Not after the so-called mother I had."

The wives of his friends were different.  They were women, self-possessed adults, often both professionals and mothers who juggled their awesome responsibilities with aplomb.  Ellen could never make friends with them.  "They talk down to me," she said.  Being married to someone like that - it must be so different, so much less . . . lonely.

When he arrived at the clearing, he was surprised to see that Joe was still there, still tied to the tree.  Ellen was trying to undo a complicated knot in one of the ropes.  Joe looked pale and exhausted, and he seemed to be trembling.  Ellen looked up at Nick; her eyes were red.  "Finally," she said.  Then she resumed tugging at the knot.

Nick stood still, taking in the peculiar tableau.  Ellen managed to get the rope untied, and it fell to the ground.  "Are you just going to stand there?"  she said.  "Aren't you going to help me?"  Joe gave him a pleading look.  Nick stepped forward and began to work on one of the other ropes, thinking about all the stray dogs and broken-winged birds Ellen had tried to rescue since they'd met.  Not for the first time, it occurred to him that he loved that perplexing aspect of his wife - the invincible compassion she always managed to show in the midst of a brutal world.

It was, he realized as he untied the knot, exactly what he would miss most about her.

Author Bio

Asked what he'd be if he could be any animal, he says, "I often think of myself as an intellectual chimpanzee.  Sort of like Cornelius in Planet of the Apes."