Author’s Note: It has never been suggested that any members of the SWAT team knew how to ride horses, but for the purpose of this story, we’re going to pretend that they did. Also, no mention has ever been made of T. J. having a hunting dog, but since he mentioned in the pilot that he used to hunt with his father, I’ve added a dog just for the heck of it. Since the series never revealed exactly what the “WC” stood for on their uniforms or precisely where “WC” is located in proximity with Los Angeles, I decided not to pinpoint the location of their outing. Just know that it is a wilderness area somewhere in California.
Deadly Trespass
One
Dominic Luca adjusted the reins of his mount and leaned forward in the saddle, giving the horse its head and allowing its hind legs to power its way up the steeply sloping trail at a strong canter. Leafy twigs and fronds, still damp with morning dew, slapped gently at his face and arms as he passed, and a few moments later he and the horse reached the top of the incline and emerged from the wooded area into the open. On level ground again, Luca settled back in his saddle and shook the dew drops from his hair, silently cursing his unruly hair that tended to curl when it became wet.
A short distance behind him, the horses ridden by T. J. McCabe and Jim Street cantered up the same slope, their iron-shod hoof beats ringing on the hard ground. When all of them were on level ground again, they slowed their mounts to a comfortable walk. The borrowed horses moved willingly, their heads bobbing up and down in rhythm to their easy gait. Bringing up the rear was the packhorse, which carried their supplies.
Riding single file at a leisurely pace, they had been traveling since dawn that morning on horses belonging to Bob Carver, a retired police officer and old friend of Lieutenant Harrelson. The property, formerly a large working cattle ranch, had belonged to Carver’s late grandfather, passed down to him through the generations, and after leaving the force six years earlier, he and his wife had decided to retire there. The cattle were long gone, deemed too much trouble for the aging police veteran, and much of the property was unfenced rugged wilderness, but he retained the entire tract of land simply because he liked the hunting and fishing opportunities it presented.
When Harrelson had casually mentioned that several of his young subordinates were planning a fishing trip, Carver had been more than happy to offer some advice on the best fishing holes, particularly a large pond on undeveloped land at the far end of his property. “It’s been years since I’ve fished there,” he told them, “but it was brimming with largemouth bass then, so it should be a fisherman’s paradise by now.” The only drawback was that because there were no roads leading to the pond, it was only accessible on horseback, a rough full-day trip through the forests, hills and valleys. To his surprise, the young men were willing if not eager to pack into the wilderness, so he had generously offered the loan of his horses and gear.
Originally, it had been T. J. and Jim who had planned the trip. Fishing was a sport that both had enjoyed as youths, but it had taken some arm-twisting to convince the youngest member of the team to make it a threesome. Luca had initially resisted. Although he had occasionally fished as a youth with his father, brothers, and uncles and cousins, his idea of a vacation was a bit different than that of his partners, but after some good natured prodding he had finally agreed.
All of them had ridden horses owned by friends or relatives during their teen years, and all were reasonably comfortable on horseback, but none of them had ever spent more than an hour or so at one time in the saddle, and never in country as rugged as this. At first, the going was easy, crossing flat grassy meadows in which the cattle had grazed years earlier. But the deeper they progressed into the back country, the more rugged it became. There were many hills, bluffs, and wooded areas to maneuver, and by ten thirty, they began to feel the effects of their hours in the saddle. They were facing many more hours before they reached their destination, but all three were still eager and in high spirits as they pushed deeper and deeper into the open range.
As they rode along the top of the sloping ground, they were offered a lovely view of another meadow which stretched out below them on their left. Tall prairie grass waved gently in the mild breeze, dotted with spring wild flowers. Beyond that, the clear blue sky rose above the treetops and the sunshine fell warmly upon their shoulders.
Turning in the saddle, Luca placed his hand on the haunch of his mount and grinned at T. J., who followed directly behind. “Bob’s a lucky man!” he exclaimed with boyish enthusiasm. “I can’t even imagine what it would be like to own a spread like this.” He gestured toward the valley with a broad sweep of his hand, in his typical Italian style. “The scenery is gorgeous! I’d love to build a cabin or something back in these hills away from all the traffic and car horns.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” T. J. agreed. “I used to hunt with my dad, and we saw some incredible scenery, but nothing like this. Imagine waking up to a scene like this every morning!”
Bringing up the rear with the packhorse in tow, Jim teased, “I thought you didn’t want to come on this trip, Flash. I seem to recall you saying something about not wanting to spend your vacation fighting 50 pound mosquitoes.”
“Okay, I’ll admit, I’m pleasantly surprised,” Luca cheerfully admitted. “And I haven’t even seen a single mosquito, so far. I guess I should thank the Powers that Be for causing that water-main break in the E.C. room and giving us the opportunity for an unscheduled vacation. Unpaid, though it is,” he added. “I have enough trouble getting from one paycheck to the next without having to go a full week without pay.”
“You could have subbed over at Sunset Station,” Street reminded him. “They have a man out on vacation this week.”
“Yeah, I know, but Deke beat me to it. Can you believe it’s going to take a full week to get everything dried out and cleaned up?”
“Lucky for us,” T. J. quipped, happily. “Pay or no pay, it’s good to be out in the fresh air for a few days. I just can’t believe they’re going to have to replace all of our rifles and equipment. That must have been some flood!”
“I guess that’s what happens when you’re in the basement,” Street added.
As Luca turned around in the saddle to face the front again, a tawny object caught his eye, a young doe grazing in the meadow grass. Drawing back the reins, he stopped his horse to watch and the others stopped behind him. The doe’s head came up when one of the horses snorted, and on long slender legs she bounded down the slope and across the meadow before disappearing into the safety of the foliage on the other side.
He sighed, happily. “I’m glad Deke volunteered first,” he concluded. “I would have missed all of this. I just wish I’d thought to bring a camera.”
“Yeah, me too,” T. J. agreed. “I was careful to make sure we had all this fishing tackle, and then I forgot the camera!”
“Of course, without that paycheck, I probably wouldn’t have been able to afford to put any film in it!” His eye fell on T. J. again. “On our salaries, I can’t believe you can afford those house payments you’re making!”
“It’s called ‘budgeting’,” T. J. replied, feeling a sense of pride at the small house he had recently purchased. “I was tired of apartment life.”
“Think of it this way, Dom,” Street said. “Out here in the wilderness, you’re not spending all your money to impress your dates.”
“Your women are what’s keeping you broke all the time, Flash,” T. J. pointed out. “Why do you keep trying so hard to impress them? A nice quiet evening at home is just as enjoyable as an expensive dinner and movie.”
Luca could not deny that he spent a great deal of money on the women he dated, so he merely shrugged and nudged his horse into motion again. Behind him, T.J.’s horse immediately followed, and Street tugged on the lead rope of the pack horse, which had dropped its head to nibble on the meadow grass.
For a while, they traveled in silence, passing through wooded areas, ascending and descending hills and following winding trails around the bluffs, watching the wildlife and listening to the sounds of nature: Birds sang in the treetops, squirrels chirped at them from branches as they passed, and once they caught a fleeting glimpse of a mule deer buck as it leaped a clump of brush and disappeared into the woods. T. J.’s English Setter, Midge, trotted just off the trail, making frequent excursions into the brush to look for game birds, but she seemed to realize that her master was not hunting this trip and always emerged quickly.
The horses’ hooves made a dull clopping noise on the hard ground as they traversed the diverse landscape. Tall grass covered the open meadows, moss and lichen grew in abundance in the shaded areas inside the forest, and varieties of summer wildflowers grew everywhere, nodding their colorful heads with the gentle breeze. It was a perfect day for a horseback ride, and promised to be an enjoyable vacation.
-()-
By noon, the three young officers were feeling the effects of the long hours in the saddle, and when they reached a lovely stream that trickled soothingly over the pebbles in the streambed, Luca pulled his mount to a halt. The others stopped behind him. Midge splashed into the stream, lapping the water eagerly with her pink tongue.
“This looks like a good place for lunch, eh?” he suggested. Without waiting for a response, he stepped down from the horse and stretched the knotted muscles in his tired legs.
T. J. immediately dismounted as well, stretching his legs and rubbing his hands up and down the seat of his jeans.
Street dismounted gracefully, looking like he had been doing it every day of his life. “A little sore there, T. J.?” he teased, refusing to admit that he, too, was starting to feel the stress of the long hours in the saddle.
“I’m glad Bob gave us a refresher course on horseback riding,” T. J. replied, “but I guess I should have factored in all those years it’s been since the last time I had ridden. It’s like riding a bike; you never forget how, but the muscles get soft.”
Luca was walking slowly to get the kinks out of his legs, leading the horse behind him, but his eyes fell upon the handsome Street. “How come you’re not as sore as the rest of us?” he inquired.
“Well, I’ve been dating this young lady who owns some horses. We go riding sometimes, so I guess I’ve gotten a little more accustomed to it than you guys.” He slipped off his mount’s bridle and tied the animal to a tree limb using the lead rope. The crown of the bridle was draped over the saddle horn, then he began loosening the cinch to allow the horse to breathe easier.
Luca and T. J. replicated Street’s actions, then they removed some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches from the pack horse’s sack of provisions. Bob’s wife had graciously provided the sandwiches to make their noon meal more convenient for them, so they sat down on the cool ground and opened the wrappers.
For a while, they rested and ate in silence while the horses dozed on their tethers, swishing their tails lazily across their flanks, one rear hoof cocked in a resting position. Overhead, birds were nesting in the treetops, and a squirrel watched them from its perch, sampling the odor of the peanut butter with interest, but not bold enough to come out of the tree with the dog lying beside her master. Midge was more interested in the sandwiches than the wildlife, and she watched every bite with pricked ears.
Finally, Luca broke the silence. “So, who’s this new girl you’ve been dating, Jim?”
Street smiled his slightly evasive smile. “No one you know, Dom.”
“Where did you meet her?”
Again, Street gave a knowing little smile. “At a friend’s party,” he replied, a vague answer that did not satisfy Luca’s curiosity.
“Well tell us about her,” he urged, always on the lookout for a new pretty face. “Maybe she has a sister or something.”
“She’s an only child. Very pretty, but also very down to earth. Very private, like me.” There was a message in that response that Luca failed to pick up on.
“So, she has horses? Does she live on a ranch or something?”
“Nope.”
T. J. was grinning. “Dom, I think he’s politely saying that it’s none of your business.”
Luca shrugged, and finally conceded. “Oh, okay. Didn’t mean to pry.”
“No problem,” Street said, amiably. He observed his half-eaten sandwich. “You know, I don’t think I’ve eaten peanut butter since I was a kid. I’d forgotten how much I liked it back then.”
“Me too,” T. J. agreed, then tossed the last bite of his sandwich to the drooling dog, and looked over at the horses. “Think they’ve cooled down enough to give them some water?”
Jim nodded. “Yeah, I think so. We’ll give them some water, then let them rest a while before we head out again.”
The three young men stood up, cringing as the tired muscles in their thighs constricted with the effort. The horses were untied and led to the stream. The thirsty animals immediately dropped their muzzles into the cool water, and after they had satisfied their thirst, they were tethered to the trees again to rest a while. All three horses began nibbling at the leaves and twigs.
Luca passed T. J. the map, for when they started riding again, the sharpshooter would take over the lead. T. J. spread the map open against his thigh and reviewed the sketch that Bob had provided.
“Looks like we’re about halfway there,” he announced. “And it looks like the country gets more rugged the farther out we get. Look at all these hills and bluffs. Good thing he marked the best passage for us to get there.” He folded up the map again and tucked it into his pocket. “I wonder how he found that pond, anyway.”
“He said he grew up here, so he probably spent days riding and backpacking,” Street said. “Sounds like an idyllic sort of childhood,” he added, wistfully. “I grew up in an apartment playing basketball on the sidewalk with my friends.”
“Yeah,” Luca agreed. “We had a house, though. There were too many kids in our family for an apartment, but we never had anything like this. Just a small backyard.”
“Several generations of Bob’s family have lived here,” T. J. pointed out. “That’s a lot of time to scope out the property.”
They rested a while longer, then Jim suggested that they move out again. The saddles were tightened again, and the bridles slipped back over the horses’ heads, then they mounted. This time, T. J. moved up to the lead with the map, Street took the middle, and Luca moved to the rear for his turn with the pack horse.
T. J.’s horse, a handsome blaze-faced palomino called Buttercup, flicked its ears tentatively at the water as they rode down the gently sloping bank. Drinking it was one thing, getting one’s hooves wet was quite another. When it balked, T. J. nudged its flanks with his heels, and the horse launched itself over the trickling water. With a gasp of surprise, T. J. grabbed the saddle horn to help minimize the amount of space that had suddenly appeared between his backside and the saddle. He sprawled across the mare’s neck as they landed on the other side, and quickly righted himself.
Street, observing how Buttercup had reacted to the water, prepared himself for a similar reaction, but the bay gelding, Prince, splashed right through without hesitation.
Luca’s Appaloosa, Chief, followed boldly, but the pack horse, Daisy, a sturdy chestnut mare, hung back until finally forced to submit to the pull on her lead rope. Like Buttercup, she leaped over the stream, nearly getting ahead of Chief.
“I should have taken jumping lessons!” T. J. laughed, shakily. “Obviously, Buttercup doesn’t like getting her feet wet!”
“Well, now you know to watch out for that,” Street said.
“For a moment there, I thought you were going to get ahead of your horse!” Luca teased.
“Only when we landed,” T. J. replied as they moved off again through the forest. “When we took off, I nearly got left behind!”
Laughing good naturedly, the three young men proceeded deeper into the property. For the next few hours, everything was quiet and peaceful as they pushed deeper into the wilderness.
The light was subdued inside the shaded areas of the woods through which they were now traveling, where the canopy of trees prevented the sun’s rays from penetrating the leaves.
Briefly, T. J. stood up in the stirrups to relieve the ache on the insides of his thighs from sitting in the same position for such an extended period. Behind him, he heard Jim yawn into his hand, and farther back Luca uttered some inaudible oath at the pack horse, which was lagging. Even Midge, a seemingly unending bundle of energy, was starting to slow down and had taken a position beside T. J.’s horse. Her mouth was open wide, her tongue lolling out, and he could hear her panting.
“Aww-wah!” Street yawned again.
T. J. settled back in the saddle again and grinned over his shoulder. “Don’t fall asleep at the wheel, Jim!” he advised. “You might fall off!”
“This is getting a tad monotonous,” Jim replied. “I know I risk sounding like a six year old, but how much farther is it?”
“According to the map, it looks like we have another hour or so before we reach the pond. We should have enough daylight to do a little fishing before turning in.” T. J. glanced at his watch: 3:17. “If the fish are biting, then we should have just enough time to catch our supper before dark.”
“I’m looking forward to that! Maybe we can catch our supper for tonight. There is nothing quite as good as largemouth bass fried over an open fire!”
“Come on, you old nag!” Luca exclaimed from the rear, tugging on Daisy’s lead rope. The stubborn mare had stopped at a shrub to pull a mouthful of leaves and twigs, and finally yielded reluctantly to the tug on the lead rope.
T. J. chuckled with amusement and started to make a comment about Luca’s inability to communicate with the obstinate animal, but instead he suddenly pulled his horse to a stop. “What the hell?”
With a puzzled frown, Jim stopped his horse on T. J.’s left side, and Luca stopped on the other side.
All three stared in silence at the mound of rocks and dirt that blocked the narrow gap through which they must pass to reach their destination. Even the horses were standing quietly, looking at the obstacle that blocked their path as if realizing that it wasn’t supposed to be there. At the top of the high bluff, they could see the ragged edges where the debris had broken loose and fallen. Midge rushed ahead and climbed partway up the debris, then stopped and looked over her shoulder at her human friends as if wondering why they were not following.
Pulling the map from his pocket again, T. J. opened it up against the saddle horn and pinpointed their location, observing that Bob’s directions indicated they must go through the pass to get to the pond. He shook his curly blond head, slowly. “This map shows the pass is open and traversable.”
“Well, it isn’t now,” Luca said, stating the obvious.
Jim leaned over to look, and pointed with his finger. “You’re right. The map doesn’t show anything about a rockslide.” He looked up and scrutinized the mound of unearthed rocks and boulders, noticing the tufts of grass that clung to life in the dirt that had come down with it. “I wonder how long it’s been since Bob rode this trail?”
“I don’t think he said, but if he had known about this I’m sure he would have warned us about it.” He paused, his eyes traveling up the rocky slope with visible disappointment. “Well, the bluff is too high and too rugged to climb with horses, so what do we do now? Turn back?”
“We’ve come so far, and we’re almost there,” Luca reminded them. “Can’t we find a way around it? Surely there’s another way to the pond.”
Jim cocked his head for a better view of the map and traced a path with his finger. “Yeah, we can track down to our left and circle this bluff and then come through this wooded area here. It’ll probably add at least another hour onto our trip, maybe even two, but it’s either that or a long haul back to civilization empty-handed.”
“I vote we go on,” T. J. said.
“Me too,” Dom agreed.
“Then it’s unanimous,” Street said.
T. J. turned Buttercup to the left, and Midge, who had been waiting on top of the pile of rocks for them to proceed, scrambled down to catch up. They slowly worked their way around the landslide. It was a lengthy stretch of rough, rocky ground, and when they emerged on the other side of the bluff, they found themselves inside a densely wooded area where the trees and undergrowth grew so close together that the horses had difficulty pushing through it
Because he was the last rider in the line and they were a long way from civilization, there should have been no one behind Luca. So when a twig snapped in the brush behind the packhorse, startling the animal and causing it to crowd close against the rump of his saddle horse, he jerked Chief to a halt and twisted his upper body in the saddle to look for the source.
His dark eyes darted from tree to tree, but saw nothing in the perpetual shade of the dense forest except the leaves and branches nodding gently in the mild breeze. Whatever he had heard had apparently stopped as well. An uneasy sensation crept into Luca’s stomach, and he felt the hair prickle on the back of his neck. Whatever it was, he knew it was watching him. The horses knew it too. Their heads were turned toward the direction of the sound, their ears pricked sharply forward, and both animals were tensed as if prepared to flee if danger presented itself. Daisy snorted nervously.
“Who’s there?” Luca asked as his eyes continued to dart anxiously from one clump of particularly thick vegetation to another. Where was it? What was it?
There was no answer, but he could feel its eyes watching him.
Turning forward again, Luca looked for the dog. Midge was trotting far ahead of T. J. and the lead horse, and had apparently not heard the noise that had attracted his attention. Luca decided it was time to leave. There was safety in numbers, and it was not a good idea to lag behind without knowing what it was that was hiding. He nudged the horse into a jog and caught up with his friends. “Hey, Jim. Did Bob mention whether or not there are any bears or cougars up here?”
“No, I don’t think so. There could be some, though, I suppose. Why?”
“Well, I thought I heard something behind us just now.” He looked over his shoulder, half expecting to see a bear lumbering toward them or a cougar stalking them, and felt relieved to verify that there was nothing there. “It sounded like a twig snapping under a heavy foot.”
“If it was a bear, the horses would be hard to handle,” Street pointed out, addressing the fact that the horses were plodding along quietly.
“Chief and Daisy both heard it too, and looked pretty nervous,” he told them.
“If it was a bear, Midge would be going crazy,” T. J. added, taking note of the fact that his dog had stopped to investigate a clump of brush, looking for quail. “You probably just heard a squirrel drop a walnut or something from a tree. Horses are easily startled by things they can’t see.”
“Maybe,” Luca said, grudgingly. It had not sounded to him like an object dropping from a tree. Glancing one more time over his shoulder to verify that they were not being followed, he nudged his horse a little closer behind Street’s mount, wishing they had decided to bring their service revolvers along.
He heard no more noises during the rest of the day, and eventually put the matter out of his mind. Whatever it was had apparently intended them no harm, and had most likely been an animal browsing for food.
| Two The detour took much longer than anticipated, for the area was extremely rugged and the travel was slow, making it apparent why Bob Carver had never developed this area of the property. It was pure wilderness, and for a while they had wondered if they would be forced to stop for the night without reaching their destination. Finally, shortly after six o’clock, they started seeing flashes of sunlight on water through the forest foliage, and they knew that they were finally nearing the pond. The horses seemed to realize this, for their step became more brisk as they picked their way through the woodlands. A few minutes later, they left the tree line and emerged in the open, a large grassy meadow with gently sloping ground and a large pond, fed by a runoff stream that trickled down from the higher elevations, stretched out before them, reflecting the clouds and hills. On their right, much of the ground was low and marshy from the overflow caused by the runoff. It and the stream would dry up as the summer progressed, but now it was its own unique eco-system with long-legged water birds wading contentedly in the shallow water. The hills and trees rose up behind the pond in a beautiful backdrop. Riding side by side instead of nose to tail, they rode right up to the edge of the pond near the stream and stopped the horses. A frog, disturbed by Midge, leaped into the water with a “plop”, but the tired and thirsty dog was less interested in the frog than she was the water, and she rushed into the stream, lapping the cold water with her tongue. “It’s even better than Bob described it,” Street said, quietly, breaking the brief silence that had settled over them as they observed the beauty and tranquility of the location. “I bet its brimming with fish,” T. J. added, eagerly. Chief pricked his ears toward the stream and took a step forward, eager for a drink of water, but Luca knew not to water it until it was cooled off from the long ride, so he drew back on the reins, stopping it. The gelding snorted in protest and pawed a striped hoof at the soft earth. “That stream will be a good source of fresh water for the horses,” Luca said. “Look how clear it is.” “Yeah,” T. J. agreed. “Nature does a good job filtering the water. Too bad humans have polluted everything to the point where it isn’t safe for us to drink.” Luca looked over his shoulder toward the western sky, where the sun was slowly sinking behind the trees. “Guess we’d better set up camp before we lose the light. Where’s a good place?” Jim had already been scanning the area for the best location, and he pointed to an area to their left. It was a level spot up from the bank just inside the tree line where they would be out of the sun. “I think we should set up camp over there, and then have a quick supper and go to bed. We can get an early start in the morning.” T. J. looked at the area that Jim had suggested, and nodded his approval. “Sounds good to me. It’ll be good to be out of the saddle for a few days! I don’t know about you guys, but I’m sore!” “Amen to that!” Luca agreed. They turned the horses around and rode to the spot in which they would set up camp. There, the trees were spaced well apart, allowing the meadow grass to grow tall and lush between them, a good spot for the horses. They dismounted, and stretched their legs to work the soreness out. Then they removed the bridles and tied the horses to a tree while they removed the saddles. The pack harness was removed from the packhorse and placed on the ground near the spot where they would set up their tents. Then, the three men attended to the business of setting up the high picket lines for the horses, as Bob had instructed them to do. Before leaving the stable, the former cop had schooled them thoroughly on the proper method for securing the horses. The high picket line was a length of sturdy but lightweight rope which was securely tied between two trees about seven or eight feet off the ground, high enough for the horse to move comfortably beneath it. To that, a shorter lead was attached with just enough length to allow the horse to lie down or move about to crop grass, but was short enough to prevent it from becoming tangled in it. They set up two separate picket lines, with two horses on each line and positioned far enough apart to prevent nipping or kicking but near enough for companionship. (See picture below) The two mares occupied one line; the two geldings were tethered on the other. Grateful for the rest, the tired horses stood quietly in the shade on their picket lines and dozed or nibbled the grass while the humans set up camp. First, they removed all the gear from the pack harness and spread them out on the ground to select the items they would need first. “They look content,” Luca commented as he removed a small camp shovel from the supplies and selected a spot away from the trees for a fire pit. He cleared away the dead leaves and debris, and began digging a shallow pit. Seeing what he was doing, T. J. began gathering dead wood and twigs while Jim looked for suitable stones to form the fire ring. “We’ll have to feed and water them after they’ve rested for a while.” “You said that you hunted with your father,” Jim said as he dumped an armload of stones near the pit. “Did you ever hunt with horses?” “Sometimes, when Dad was younger. One of his hunting buddies had some horses, and he’d go with us to the mountains to hunt. How ‘bout you?” “Nah. I went quail hunting with my uncle a few times, but we just went on land belonging to acquaintances. I’m afraid I was never much of a hunter. I always preferred fishing. How ‘bout you, Dom? Did you ever go hunting or camping with your dad?” “Naw. Our family was too big for that sort of thing,” Dom replied as he leveled the pit. “There was never any time for going hunting and camping. Pop worked six days a week with few vacations, which were usually spent visiting relatives back in Jersey. There, that should do it.” He set the shovel aside, satisfied with the size and depth of the fire pit. Together, he and Jim arranged the stones around the rim of the pit, and then T. J. placed the wood and kindling inside the pit. Then they lit the fire with the long wooden matches they had brought for that purpose. A comforting blaze crackled and popped in the dry wood as T. J. placed a long metal grill over the pit to hold their pots and pans. While the fire settled, they unpacked the three small, lightweight A-frame tents and erected them in a circular pattern around the campfire, with the openings facing the pit. Then they blew up the air mattresses on which they would place their sleeping bags. “All the comforts of home,” Luca said as he placed his mattress inside the open flaps of his tent. “Well, almost, anyway. Better than rolling over on sharp rocks in the middle of the night.” T. J. smiled, amused. “When I was a kid, we just slept out in the open on the hard ground. We’ve come a long way since those days!” With the tents in place, they unfastened the horses from the picket lines and took the thirsty animals to the stream for a drink, then returned them to the picket lines and placed a portion of grain in the feed bags that were hung on the picket lines. The horses immediately slipped their muzzles into the bags to eat. The chores had taken longer than anticipated, and since they were late arriving due to the landslide at the pass, there was no time to get in any fishing before the sun slipped over the western horizon and darkness settled over the camp. In the light of the campfire, T. J. withdrew a large can of pork and beans from the rations they had packed, and emptied it into the cook pot and placed it on the grill over the fire. Within minutes, the smell of beans drifted over the meadow, a tantalizing aroma. “I don’t know why things like this always smell better in the wilderness over an open fire than it does in an apartment,” T. J. commented as he stirred them with a spoon. “I hardly ever eat pork and beans at home.” “Same here,” Luca said. “I usually eat out or at Mama’s house. I’m tellin’ ya, Pop knew what he was doing when he asked her to marry him! That woman can cook!” “That’s a fact,” T. J. agreed. “When are you going to invite me over for spaghetti again?” Luca smiled, pleased. He often grew weary of his mother’s attempts to get him married, but he was fiercely proud of her. She was a fine woman, a wonderful mother, and an excellent cook. “I’ll mention it to Mama when we get back. She’d love to have you over for dinner. You’re welcome too, Jim,” he added. “Mama’s used to cooking for lots of people. One more won’t even be noticed.” Jim, who was known as a bit of a loner, had never accepted an invitation to Mrs. Luca’s house for dinner, but he had heard T. J.’s high praise about her good Italian cooking. “I may take you up on that,” he replied, noncommittally as he knelt beside the supply sack and rummaged around. “I love a good bowl of spaghetti. Anybody else want some Vienna sausage with your pork and beans?” “I’ll take some,” Luca said. “Me too,” T. J. agreed as he removed a small bit of fatty pork from the pot of pork and beans and tossed it into the grass nearby. Midge pounced on it, eagerly. “Its funny how little pork is actually in a can of pork and beans. Just that little chunk of fat that I always throw out.” “I always wondered about that,” Luca said with a smile. “I guess it’s just enough to put it in the name, or something.” He accepted the small can of Vienna sausage that Street tossed to him. He opened it, drained the juice, and emptied the can onto his lightweight stainless steel plate. Beside him, he heard Midge lick her muzzle in eager anticipation, and he moved his plate away, protectively. “Eh-eh! Don’t get any ideas there, little lady!” She thumped her tail a couple of times on the ground and tried to look innocent. “Don’t look at me with those sad brown eyes,” Luca told her, his resolve weakening. “What is it about a pair of big brown eyes that makes it so hard to resist?” “I’ll feed her while we’re eating,” T. J. promised. “I don’t like for her to beg, but I think Mom’s been slipping her some table scraps when she comes to visit.” Taking up the spoon that Street had stirred the pot with, he gave it another stir, watching as the steam rose from the beans. “I think these are heated enough. If you guys want to start, I’ll go ahead and get Midge’s supper ready.” While Luca and Street helped themselves to generous portions of steaming hot pork and beans, Vienna sausage, and a few slices of bread from the bag they had brought with them, T. J. dumped a can of dog food into Midge’s bowl and added a scoop of kibble. At the sound of the can being opened, she leaped to her feet expectantly, tail waving happily. “There ya go, girl,” he said, placing the bowl on the ground near his tent. Then he returned to the fire and served himself. The three young men ate their simple meal with gusto. It was the kind of meal that a bachelor might occasionally make at home, but for some reason it never tasted quite as good as it did over an open fire in the wilderness. All three went back for seconds, then, while T. J. and Street settled back on their elbows to relax, Luca wandered down to the pond, drawn by the sounds of the crickets and frogs. It was a calm, peaceful evening. The moon had thrown a silvery sheen on the surface of the water, and the hills and trees were silhouetted against the starry sky. As he approached the edge, he heard a “plop” as a frog jumped into the shallows, apparently thinking him a predator. Luca smiled, contentedly. Nearby, he could hear the gentle trickling sounds of the stream as it meandered over the rocks before emptying into the pond. On the far side of the still body of water, he could see the tranquil glimmer of moonlight on the marshy overflow. Squatting down, he picked up a pebble and cast it onto the water, watching as it skipped and bounced on the surface before sinking into the quiet depths. Bats flitted to and fro in the moonlight, chasing insects over the pond, and on impulse, Luca tossed a small pebble high into the air. A bat instantly dove at it, and he quickly realized that he hadn’t tossed it high enough. Following the downward plunge of the pebble, the bat fluttered right at Luca’s face in a flurry of beating wings. Ducking quickly, he backed up a few steps until the bat abandoned the pebble as inedible and flapped its leathery wings to gain altitude again, apparently as startled by the encounter as the human had been. Grinning to himself, Luca watched the bat soar away, grateful that neither of the guys had seen that. In the distance, he heard the screech of an owl, but was unable to locate it. A few minutes later, he heard a snuffing sound at his feet, drawing his attention to the dog that was inspecting the ground for interesting smells. This was probably a watering hole for many different species of wildlife, and Midge was taking it all in. He knew that T. J. would not be far behind. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw his friend walking toward him. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” T. J. asked as he stopped beside him. “You don’t see stars like that back in the City,” he replied. “I’ve never in my entire life been to a place as remote and peaceful as this.” “You’ve never been camping at all?” T. J. asked with surprise. “Not even as a boy scout? No summer camp or anything?” “Nope. Well, once Dad took us to Yosemite on vacation, but we stayed in cabins at the campground. There were always cars coming in and out of the area, kids playing, people shouting. You know; the typical noises you hear all the time back in the city. This is so perfect. This would be an incredibly romantic place to bring a favorite girl.” T. J. grinned, amused. “Do you think about anything else besides girls, Dom?” “I think about other things,” Luca said in his own defense. “But you gotta admit, this is really a romantic setting.” Jim came up behind and smiled at the topic of conversation. “I don’t know too many girls who would be turned on by riding a horse all day long and then spending the night in the wilderness with no luxuries. No bathrooms, no hairdryers, no soft warm beds; but plenty of things on which to break fingernails.” “I’ve met a few who might enjoy this sort of thing,” T. J. said. “But you’re right; most of the girls I know are city girls who wouldn’t enjoy this.” He tipped his head back to look up at the sky just as a shooting star streaked across the heavens. “I think all of them would enjoy a view like this, though.” All three of the young men watched the shooting star until it burned itself out, then they turned and walked back to the camp. Each one picked his spot and sat down on the cool ground, but they spoke little, preferring to listen to the sounds of nature. Occasionally, they heard the stamping of a hoof from one of the horses. In the distance, they heard the yammering call of a coyote. Midge lifted her head, ears alert, as they listened to the lonely sound until it faded away. Finally, Luca stretched out on his back and laced his fingers together behind his head. “This is the life.” “I’ll say,” T. J. agreed as he stretched out on his back as Luca was. Midge lay down next to him and placed her head on his chest, and he began stroking her floppy ears. “I love being away from civilization, where there are no other human beings around for miles.” Sitting across the campfire from him, Jim was rinsing out their supper plates. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been camping. I’d forgotten how relaxing it is.” They fell silent, listening to the peaceful sounds of the wilderness night, until finally they began to yawn. T. J. was the first to succumb. “I’m going to bed,” he announced. With a low groan as his sore muscles protested the movement, he stood up. “I want to get an early start in the morning.” “Sounds good to me,” Jim agreed. He inserted the plates into a sack to keep them clean, then crawled into his tent and pulled down the flaps for privacy. T. J. moved toward his tent, then turned back to his younger friend. “You turning in, Dom?” “I’m so comfortable, I think I’ll just lie here until the fire goes out,” Luca replied. “See you in the morning.” “Okay.” T. J. slipped into his tent and pulled the flaps down. With her nose, Midge pushed aside the flap and slipped inside with him. After T. J. had gone inside his tent, Dom lay quietly listening to the peaceful sounds of nature. The fire crackled and popped as it struggled to find enough fuel in the embers to survive, and he felt himself growing drowsy. With a contented sigh, he closed his eyes, allowing the drowsy warmth to embrace him. On the picket line, he heard one of the horses give a low moan as it folded its legs beneath it and sank wearily to the ground to sleep. -()- Luca was uncertain how long he had been asleep or what is was that had awakened him, but his first impression of awareness was the strange sensation of an unwelcome presence nearby, and for a moment he wondered if it was simply the after-effects of a dream. There seemed to be a slight, barely perceptible sense of movement near the tent, the quiet whisper of someone’s clothes as he moved among the supplies, but before the sounds could register in his mind, he was jolted fully awake by an abrupt bark from Midge inside T. J.’s tent, and the bark was followed by the alarming clatter of a cook pot being dropped to the ground by a startled hand. Luca’s eyes popped open just as Midge burst from between the closed flaps of T. J.’s tent, and he heard the disturbing sound of footsteps beating a hasty retreat from the camp. Snarling and barking, the dog tried to leap over Dom just as he was sitting up, and she collided with him forcefully, sending them both to the ground in a tangled heap. Disengaging herself from the startled human, Midge scrambled to her feet again and gave chase, but then seemed to think better of it, for she stopped just beyond the edge of the camp, her frenzied barking and baying ringing in the stillness. On the picket lines, disturbed by the commotion, the horses clambered to their feet and shifted nervously on their tethers. At the same time, Dom also jumped to his feet, and looking past the dog he saw a dark figure just before it disappeared into the trees. Inside his tent, T. J. was thrashing frantically to free himself from the confines of his sleeping bag, and when he finally managed to get most of his body out of the restraining bedding, he literally fell out of the tent, dragging the sleeping bag with him by his ankle. A moment later, Jim parted his own tent flaps and stepped outside, still looking perfectly groomed, almost as if he had stopped to comb his hair on the way out. Luca heaved a sigh of envy as he tried to smooth down his hair. “What’s going on?” Jim asked. T. J. struggled to his feet and kicked the sleeping bag aside. “Someone was in the camp,” Luca replied. He pointed toward the darkest part of the wooded area. “He went into the woods over there.” For several moments, the three men stood still, gazing in the direction that Luca had indicated. Midge was still trotting back and forth with excited, springy strides, uttering an occasional bark as if to remind the intruder that she was still there, patrolling the edge of the campsite. All three men were Vietnam veterans and skilled police officers, but this midnight disturbance had left all of them with hearts thudding and their stomachs clenched with concern. In the moonlight, they could see the horses all looking in the same direction, the direction in which the dog had been barking and where Dom had seen the figure disappear into the forest. Their ears were pricked up, and even in the darkness, they could tell by the rigid postures that the horses were tensed to flee if danger presented itself. Whoever it was, Dom suspected that he had stopped inside the tree line to see if they would pursue, and was probably watching them at that very moment. Finally, Jim asked, “Did anyone see what it was?” “I caught a glimpse of him just before he reached the tree line over there,” Dom said. “He was rummaging around in the food,” Jim observed, noticing the dropped pot and the open canvas bag in which they had stored their rations. “Could it have been a bear or something?” “Not unless bears wear trousers and can run on their hind legs,” Dom retorted rather sarcastically. “I saw him well enough to see that he was on two legs, and I heard his pants rubbing together just before Midge started barking. When she barked, he dropped what he was doing and lit out of here like a scalded cat.” Jim ducked back into his tent, and emerged a moment later with a flashlight. “We’d better check the supplies and see if he took anything.” With the flashlight to illuminate the supply sack, they emptied everything onto the ground and took an inventory of their provisions. “Both loaves of bread are missing,” Dom noticed immediately. “And two cans of Vienna sausage,” T.J. added. “Everything else seems to be here,” Jim said, solemnly. “Looks like Midge chased him off before he could take anything else.” As if on cue, Midge returned to the camp and stood protectively beside T. J., who patted her affectionately. The hackles were standing up all along her back and she kept her eyes and ears alert to the direction in which the stranger had fled. “You chased him off, didn’t you?” he praised, patting his hand against her side. “Good girl.” Knowing that she had pleased him, she waved her tail happily, her ears still vigilant. Luca’s eyes fell approvingly on the dog. “Good thing you brought her with us,” he said, reaching out to pat her on the head. “We might have lost a lot more than a few food items.” “Yeah,” Jim agreed. “I didn’t dream we’d need a guard dog up here.” He looked around, as if trying to determine what to do next. It was too dark and too dangerous to go after the intruder. “Well, he knows we have a dog now, so maybe he won’t come back.” T. J. was looking past him, observing the horses which were finally starting to settle down again. Their ears flicked back and forth, still nervous, but no longer tensed. “I’m worried that he might come back for the horses,” he said. “I’d hate to have to hike out of here on foot.” “I was thinking the same thing,” Luca agreed. “I think I’ll sit up for a spell, just in case,” the sharpshooter volunteered. “Tomorrow night, I would suggest we move the horses closer to the camp.” “Good idea,” Jim said. “Wake me in a few hours and I’ll relieve you. Dom, I’ll wake you a few hours after that.”” Giving his friend a pat on the shoulder, Jim pushed aside the flap on his tent and slipped inside again. Yawning, Luca went inside his own tent, and with T. J. keeping watch, the other two attempted to get some sleep. |
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Below are two examples of the "high" picket line used by most horsemen on camping trips. It allows horses room to lie down, move around, eat, and graze while keeping them safely restrained.
| Three The intruder did not return that night. The three SWAT officers took turns standing guard, but as the first glow of the advancing sun lightened the eastern sky, there had been no sign of him and Luca, the last one to stand guard duty, began to breathe easier. Midge stood guard with him, her alert ears and eyes carefully scrutinizing every sound and her nose twitching attentively to catch odors that the humans could not detect. She took her new responsibilities seriously, occasionally even getting up to patrol the camp’s perimeter. As the sun finally peeked over the horizon, Luca arranged the wood in the pit and stoked it into a blaze. Next, he measured coffee into the tin coffee pot and set it on the grill to heat. Then, while the coffee brewed, he sat down on a fallen log that they had dragged into the camp for seating purposes, and allowed his eyes to travel over the peaceful landscape around them, wondering about their midnight visitor. Who was he? What did he want? And why was he out here in the wilderness area of Bob Carver’s property? Was he lingering in the area, or had he decided to move on? With the approaching daylight, the crickets and frogs finally became silent, but with the quiet came a new sense of uncertainty. Luca wondered if they would need to stand guard every night to prevent a recurrence, or should they simply decide to pack up and go home? The incident had certainly put a damper on their fishing trip. Hearing a movement on the picket line, he watched as Chief climbed to his feet and shook the dust and grass from his coat. Daisy and Prince were lying on their bellies, their legs folded under them, while Buttercup was still lying flat, enjoying her nap. Dropping his muzzle to the ground, Chief nibbled on the grass that had been cropped short the evening before, swatting his tail back and forth. Typical of the classic Appaloosa breed, Chief’s tail was short, barely reaching his hocks, and sparsely haired, while the other three horses had long luxurious tails. Luca wondered if Chief envied them as he envied people with straight hair. Returning from her patrol, Midge came wandering back to him and nudged her head under his hand, wanting to be petted. He paused briefly to stroke her smooth head. With a contented sigh, she sat down against him and rested her head on his thigh. Within minutes, responding to the tantalizing aroma of the morning brew, Jim crawled out of his tent, inhaling deeply. “That smells good!” he said. “What a gorgeous day!” T. J. exclaimed at almost the same time as he threw back the flap of his tent. “Is that coffee about ready?” With her master up now, Midge abandoned Luca and sidled up to T. J., panting happily and wagging her tail. He paused to pat her on the sides and stroke her head as he joined Luca on the log. Jim fetched their three cups from the supplies and filled them, one at a time. Then they sat back to enjoy the warmth of the hot liquid. No one offered to start breakfast, and their eyes shifted from one to the other, waiting for someone to volunteer. Finally, Luca set his cup aside and stood up to stretch. “I’ll take the horses down to the stream for water while someone rustles up some breakfast.” “You’ll need some help,” T. J. said, quickly, rising quickly. “Jim, I guess that means you get to fix breakfast this morning.” “You’re too kind,” Jim replied with mock annoyance. “Any suggestions?” “Surprise us!” Luca said as he walked to the picket lines, whistling softly. The horses were all on their feet now, waiting with ears pricked, and they nickered greetings to him and T. J. as they approached, eager for a morning feed. They had grazed down all the grass within reach on the picket lines, leaving closely cropped circles around them. “Later, eh?” Luca said as he stroked the speckled neck of the horse he had been given to ride. “First, you’ll get a drink of water, and then we’ll move the picket line.” “Tell you what,” T. J. said. “While you take the first pair of horses down to the stream, I’ll move their picket lines, then while I take the other two, you can move theirs.” “Good idea,” Luca agreed. Unfastening the lead ropes, the young SWAT officer took Chief and Prince down to the stream and waited while they dropped their heads to the water and drank their fill. When their thirst was quenched, he led them back to the camp, where T. J. had just finished moving the rope to a new location, just down from the previous location. It was lush with tall meadow grass, so the horses would be kept busy cropping grass for hours. When night fell, if they decided to stay, they would be moved closer to camp. Luca fastened the geldings to the picket line, then T. J. removed the mares from their tethers and led them down to the stream. When both geldings were secure, Luca moved the mares’ picket line close to the other one, and it was ready when T. J. returned. All four horses immediately dipped their heads into the tall grass and began to graze. By the time they returned to the camp together, they were greeted by the smell of frying ham and potatoes. “Hey, that smells good!” T. J. said. “Almost done,” Jim said. “Grab your plates. I wasn’t sure about this canned ham we brought, but it smells pretty good and looks like it might be an adequate substitute for the fresh product.” “With a little luck, we’ll have fried bass for lunch and supper,” T. J. said, casting a longing glance toward the pond that shimmered beckoningly in the early morning sunlight. “I was sure hoping we’d have some time to fish before dark last night, but we didn’t count on that trail being blocked like that.” “I wonder what happened there,” Luca said as he helped himself to fried ham and potatoes. “You think that guy who came into the camp last night set off the avalanche that blocked the trail?” With his plate filled, he settled back on the ground to eat. “Possibly,” T. J. agreed, taking his turn at the skillets. “The question is, why?” “Maybe he’s some escaped convict or something that’s staked out this area for his own, and doesn’t want any intruders,” Luca said. “If that’s the case, he will probably be keeping an eye on us. He could be watching us right now.” The hair prickled on the back of Luca’s neck, and he looked over his shoulder to verify that no one was there. He saw only the clusters of trees and shrubs at the edge of the woods. “I bet he was the guy I heard behind me yesterday.” “Yeah,” T. J. agreed. “I thought it was probably just an animal or something, but it could be the guy. Maybe he followed us in.” “I think we’re jumping to conclusions here and getting ourselves spooked,” Jim said, the calm voice of reason. “We have no evidence whatsoever that anyone deliberately blocked that trail. There are a lot of rocky bluffs around these parts, and there are loose rocks and debris on all of them. Could have simply been caused by something natural; a rock slide, a lightning strike, an underground tremor from a fault line. Anything. And the man who came into the camp could simply be a vagrant passing through the area and saw an opportunity for a quick meal at our expense. He’s probably long gone by now.” Luca and T. J. exchanged glances, unconvinced. “What if he isn’t?” T. J. asked. “What if he’s hanging around here waiting for us to be distracted so he can steal the horses or take the rest of our supplies?” Streets eyes wandered to the horses, which grazed on the picket lines. “Well, you’ve moved the horses closer to the pond. We’ll stay alert and keep our eyes on them and the camp while we’re fishing. Tonight, we’ll move them closer to camp. In the meantime, I’m here to do some fishing, and I don’t intend to let this dampen my vacation.” Luca sighed. “I suppose you’re probably right.” “Midge will notice anything suspicious,” T. J. said. “She’s on the alert now, so I agree. Let’s do some fishing!” As soon as the breakfast dishes were cleaned and put away, T. J. took up his fishing pole and selected several of his favorite lures, then passed out lures to the other two men. With their poles propped against their shoulders, they walked through the tall meadow grass toward the large pond. It was a perfect day for fishing. There was only a mild breeze which stirred the grass and rippled slightly on the surface of the water. Midge, trotting ahead, suddenly froze as still as a statue, her attention riveted upon a clump of shrubs. T. J. moved quietly up behind her, then flushed out the pair of quail that was hiding there. They took flight, never knowing that had he been hunting they would have been brought down with a quick shot. “Good girl!” the sharpshooter praised, patting her side. She waved her tail, happy that she had pleased him. “That’s fascinating the way those hunting dogs will do that,” Street said. “My uncle used to have a pointer, and it always intrigued me how well they work with humans to find game.” Bounding ahead, Midge led the way to the pond, and the young officers spread out and cast their lines into the water, anticipating a good day of fishing. -()- With a gesture of disgust, Luca yanked his line out of the water and scrutinized the dangling lure. Water dripped from the spinner and a ray of sunlight flashed on the thin metal disks in a way that seemed to mock his unproductive day of fishing. It seemed to be functioning properly, certainly enough to attract a hungry bass, but for some reason he had not pulled in a single fish all day. By lunchtime, no one had caught any fish, so the three young officers had returned to camp for lunch. Without bread, they were unable to make sandwiches out of the leftover canned ham, so they fried it in the skillet and prepared another can of pork and beans before returning to the pond. And now, it looked like they would be having pork and beans again for supper instead of the fish fry they had planned on. A little farther down the bank, Street watched as Luca scrutinized his dangling lure. “Catching anything?” he called. “Not even a nibble.” “Same here. I don’t think there are any fish in this pond. I remember seeing another pond nearby on that map, so I think we should saddle the horses and ride on over there and see if that one has any fish in it. Maybe Bob forgot which pond he was talking about.” “Sounds good to me,” Luca agreed. “Count me in,” T. J. added from his position farther down from Street. Reeling in his line, he joined Jim and Dom as they trudged back to the camp. Midge loped eagerly ahead of them. “What about the pack horse,” T. J. said. “I don’t think we should leave her behind, just in case that prowler is still hanging around.” “We’ll let her carry the fishing gear and our provisions,” Jim suggested. “It might not be prudent to leave the rest of our food here, just in case. We’ll need to take the picket lines with us, too.” “Who knows?” Luca added. “It might even be a better campsite than where we are now.” When they reached the camp, they opened up the map and pinpointed the other pond. Both ponds were clearly marked, and the one that had so far failed to provide a single fish was indicated in Bob’s handwriting as the best fishing hole. It had been years since he had fished in this area, so it was worth a try to see if the other pond provided better results. They saddled the horses and placed the pack saddle on the pack horse, loaded it with the gear they would need for a day of fishing plus the picket lines for the horses, then they mounted and road toward the other pond. It was another pleasant day for an outing, and the three young men had great hopes that Bob had simply been mistaken about which pond contained the best fishing. The morning sun was still high in the sky with plenty of time for enjoying the fishing and the scenery around them. They traveled for nearly an hour, moving in and out of the woods. As they rode single file along the edge of the woods, following the curve of the rocky bluff, T. J. approached one of the many shallow streams that cross-crossed the landscape. Recalling the palomino’s aversion to water, the young sharpshooter took a firm hold on the saddle horn with one hand as he guided the horse down the slope with the other. Buttercup flicked her ears nervously toward the running water, hesitated briefly, then leaped over the stream. T. J. managed to hold on – just barely. Chief followed Buttercup down the slope and then splashed through it. Luca leaned forward as the animal picked its way up the slope on the other side. Behind him, Street’s mount crossed the stream with little objection, but the pack horse was less happy about getting its feet wet and after pulling back briefly, it finally elected to jump across as she had done the day before. When they were all on level ground again, they emerged into an open meadow and the pond sparkled in the sunlight ahead of them. “There it is, gentlemen!” T. J. enthusiastically. “It’s even prettier here than at the other pond!” Luca exclaimed. “I vote we move our camp here!” Street laughed. “Let’s see what the fishing is like here before we make a decision. We don’t even know for sure that Bob made a mistake regarding which pond was which.” He pointed to his right. “There are some trees over there where we can set up the picket lines.” They rode in that direction, and when they reached it they dismounted, set up the picket line, and removed the tack from the horses’ backs before securing them to the lines. Then they took their fishing rods to the water’s edge. T. J. immediately cast his line in the water, designating the prime spot for his own. Jim and Luca began walking toward their right, circling the pond to seek another good spot across the water from him. Luca looked over his shoulder as he trudged through the high reeds and bulrushes. Jim was following a short distance behind. “I sure hope we catch something over here, or we’ll be eating all our meals out of a can! Bob assured us that the fi--- Ugh!“ Not watching where he was placing his steps, his foot struck a solid object, and he felt himself falling. He twisted his body as he fell so that as he landed on the other side of the object, he was facing upward with his legs draped over it, and could only stare at it for several moments as his brain caught up with what his eyes were telling him was there. “Damn!” he exclaimed as he rolled away from the object and scrambled to his feet. “You okay?” Street asked, laughing softly as he approached, then the smile dropped from his face as he stared at the object that Luca had just fallen over. “What the hell?” A dead body lay on the ground, almost completely obscured by the tall reeds that had grown up around it. The legs were partly in the water and the fact that the water level was down indicated that the body had been completely submerged during the spring rains. Time had reduced it to almost skeletal with bits of skin still clinging to the bones. It was dressed in a shirt, jacket, trousers and boots. “He’s been here a while,” Dom said, solemnly. “I wonder who he is.” Jim shook his head, slowly. “No idea, but I bet someone back home is missing him.” Across the pond from them, T. J.’s brow creased in a frown, wondering what his friends were doing. They were looking intently at something on the ground, and obviously were discussing it. “Hey!” he called. “What’re you two looking at?” “Get over here!” Jim shouted back in a voice that left no room for argument. Realizing that they had found something important, he pulled in his line and began jogging around the bank of the pond toward them. Midge bounded ahead, thinking it was playtime. Suddenly, the dog came to alert attention and rushed forward to investigate the object that Luca and Street were still observing with grim expressions, her ears lifted anxiously, but he called her back. “Midge! No!” he commanded. She stopped in her tracks, but her curious eyes were riveted on the unfamiliar sight on the ground between Luca and Street. “Stay,” T. J. commanded when he caught up to her. His frown deepened on his broad forehead as he stopped beside Jim and observed the body. “He’s wearing a uniform of some kind. Maybe local police or county sheriff’s department.” “He bled to death,” Street said. He indicated the huge amber colored stain on the shirt and trousers. The water and elements had bleached the stain as well as the fabric, but there was no doubt what it was, especially with the three frayed round holes in the abdomen area of the shirt. “Looks like he was shot, and then thrown into the pond to hide the body.” He looked up, and his eyes met those of his partners. “Are you guys thinking what I’m thinking?” Luca asked, tensely. “If you’re thinking that the killer might be the guy who came into our camp last night, then yeah, I’m thinking the same thing,” Street answered. “He’s no vagrant, like I originally thought. Obviously, he’s someone who is up here to escape the law.” At the suggestion, all three men immediately looked at the terrain that surrounded them, searching for any evidence that the killer had lingered in the area. They saw only the gently waving meadow grass, the placid ripples on the pond, and the woods. Farther up the bank, the horses were grazing in the tall grass on their picket lines, swishing their tails back and forth across their flanks. “He’s probably been living up here in the wilderness fishing in the pond, which would explain why we haven’t caught anything,” T. J. said. “He’s emptied the ponds of fish and was looking in our packs for food.” “And he’s probably the one who brought down the debris in that pass, hoping to discourage others from coming up here and finding him,” Luca added. “This poor fellow here was probably either looking for him or investigating why that pass was cut off.” “I wonder if he has any identification,” Street mused. Glancing at the others to see if either would volunteer to conduct a hands-on investigation of the body, he found that both were nodding in agreement, but neither made a move toward it. With a sigh, he squatted down beside it. Trying not to look at the grinning skull and being careful to disturb as little as possible of the crime scene, he searched the shirt pockets first, but turned up nothing useful. Next, he shoved his hands into the jacket pockets, but turned up only a pair of leather gloves, dry and cracked from the effects of the weather. “See if he has a wallet,” Luca suggested. Jim gave the younger officer a sharp glance as if to remind him that he would get to it. Grimacing, he slipped his hand under the stiff skeletal remains and felt for the pocket. Nothing in that one. He stepped over the body and felt for the other pocket. Ah-ha! His fingers felt the hardness of a folded leather wallet, so he slipped his hands into the pocket and withdrew it. Like the gloves, it had faired badly in the weather, but it was still intact, so he flipped it open. Inside the protective plastic pocket was a driver’s license: Everett Walters. Like the license, the credit cards were still encased in their plastic sheath. With a heavy heart, he flipped through the pictures that Everett Walters had held dear, pictures of a woman and two young boys, all badly damaged by the water yet still identifiable. “He had a family,” he announced, indicating the pictures. “They’ve probably wondered all this time what had happened to him.” Luca looked around, again. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’ve lost interest in fishing.” “I agree,” Jim said. “I think we should head back to camp.” His eyes fell sympathetically on the victim again. “There’s nothing we can do for him right now except report this to the authorities when we get back. They can send out a chopper and an investigative team.” T. J.’s eyes were following the progression of the sun. “There won’t be time to get back before dark, and it’s too dangerous to travel on horseback after dark, so I guess we’ll have to stay there again overnight.” “Lovely,” Luca groaned. Leaving the murdered man where they had found him, they returned to the horses and saddled them up again. As they mounted, Jim glanced across the valley at the lush green meadow in the distance. “He certainly died in a lovely spot. Look how green it is over there.” From the saddle, Luca turned his head to look in the direction Jim had indicated, and observed the brilliant green patch that could be seen between the gaps in a nearby grove of trees. His brow furrowed as he suddenly felt a stab of apprehension. It was definitely green. Perhaps a bit too uniformly green. Noticing his troubled expression, T. J. asked, “Dom? What’s wrong?” “I’m not sure. But I want to have a closer look at that meadow.” Without waiting for the others, he nudged his gelding’s side, urging it into a canter as he approached the green field. The others loped behind as he guided the horse through the gap in the trees and the field opened up before him, a huge sea of dark green plants. Luca abruptly jerked back on the reins. Startled, his horse locked its hind legs and came to a skidding stop. “That isn’t meadow grass,” he said when they had stopped beside him. “That’s marijuana.” “You’re kidding,” Jim said. “I kid you not.” “It grows wild out here?” T. J. asked. “In those nice, neat, cultivated rows?” Luca retorted. “I don’t think so! It’s all starting to make sense now. This is a major drug operation! And I do mean major! Look at the size of that field!” All three of them looked, and for several moments they were speechless as they observed the enormous expanse of marijuana plants that nodded and stirred in the gentle breeze. “Is this part of Bob’s property?” Luca asked, breaking the silence. “According to the map, yes,” T. J. replied. “But I’d be willing to bet he doesn’t know about this, or he wouldn’t have sent us into this area.” “Then that poor guy back there stumbled on it –“ Luca began. “Like we did!” Jim finished. “Let’s get the hell outta here!” Wheeling the horses around, they galloped headlong for the trees, slowing down only when they were safely inside the treeline. Midge bounded along behind, trying to keep up with the longer strides of the horses. They wasted no time crossing the stream and making their way back through the woods toward their campsite. They were more than halfway there when they heard the sound of gunfire coming from their campsite. It was muffled and distant, but there was no question that the sharp, popping sounds were from automatic weapons. It was a sound they were well familiar with, in their line of work. They pulled their horses to a stop, listening as the sounds went on and on for nearly two minutes before finally fading away. “Talk about overkill,” Luca said. “Especially since the camp was empty.” “Obviously, they’re making a not-so-subtle statement: Like ‘get the hell out’,” T. J. said. “Without delay. I suddenly wish I had brought my rifle,” he added, wistfully. “Or at least my service revolver.” “Yeah, me too,” Luca agreed. “When we get close to camp, I would suggest tying the horses out of sight and walking in on foot,” Jim suggested Moving more slowly and keeping well back in the trees, the three SWAT officers made their way back to their camp, wondering what they would find when they got there. |
| Four The moods of the three SWAT officers were greatly subdued as they rode back to their camp, wondering what they would find when they arrived. After the cessation of the gunfire, there had been no additional shots, but that was no guarantee that the perpetrators were not lying in ambush for them. They would have to approach with caution. By unspoken consent, no words were passed between them as they neared the camp, preferring not to advertise their presence with conversation or any undue noise. Working as a team on the job had given them silent communication skills that they now applied. In addition, they kept the horses in the thinner parts of the forest where they would not rustle leaves and twigs as they passed, but there was nothing they could do about the dull clopping sounds of hooves on the hard ground. They were nearing the camp location when T. J. suddenly reined in his horse and raised a cautionary hand to prevent any verbal questions about why they had halted. The others stopped behind him, and all three listened intently to the sounds of a vehicle making its way through the brush. He glanced over his shoulder at the grim faces of his friends, then they turned in the direction of the sound. The horses turned their heads toward it, ears flicking forward, and Midge, stopped in the brush behind them at alert attention. Moments later, a flash of color drove past, visible through the foliage, and they recognized it as a jeep. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that the person or persons in the jeep had been responsible for the gunfire they had heard. Slowly, the rugged vehicle cut its way through the brush, heading in the direction of the marijuana field. The occupants did not seem to be aware of the three horsemen watching from the denser part of the forest, so the officers waited quietly until the sound of the jeep had faded away before nudging the horses into a walk again. As they neared the campsite, T. J. reined his horse to a stop and dismounted, deciding that it would be prudent to tether the animals well back in the trees. Street and Luca did the same, and they tied the horses securely. Panting wearily from the long jog from the other pond, Midge stayed close to her master’s side, but as they started walking cautiously toward their camp, the dog suddenly came to alert attention. With ears lifted and nose twitching to detect scents that the humans could not, she looked apprehensively around the wooded area. A low growl rumbled deep in her throat. “Quiet, Midge,” T. J. commanded, keeping his voice low. She looked at him anxiously, but after a pleading whine she promptly obeyed. She continued to look anxiously around, searching for the presence that she knew was there but could not see. The horses felt it too, and shifted uneasily on their tethers. Well concealed atop the rocky bluff, the Watcher smiled, satisfied. The men were too preoccupied to consider the fact that the dog’s senses were better than theirs, and that she knew someone was there. He did not move a muscle, observing the dog and her companions with interest. For several moments, Midge continued to survey their surroundings, then, turning abruptly, she bounded after her master, who had proceeded with the other men toward the camp. Without speaking, the officers cautiously approached the open area where they had erected their tents, placing their steps carefully to avoid snapping twigs or rustling leaves. As a precaution, T. J. put Midge at “heel” and again gave her the command to be quiet. When they reached the edge of the tree line, they paused cautiously to observe the clearing where they had placed their camping gear, searching for any sign that danger might be present. Midge’s ears were still up, sensing that something was very wrong. When they were satisfied that it was safe, they stepped into the open to survey the damage. Everything was destroyed. The tents, riddled with bullet holes, had collapsed under the firepower of the automatic rifles and now lay in tattered heaps of shredded canvas. The cooking pots and pans had suffered extensive damage, dents in the heavier skillets and holes in the lighter pots. The sleeping bags were shredded and the air mattresses deflated. The grill had been tossed from the fire pit and the ashes and logs strewn about haphazardly. With her tail carried low and the hackles standing up along her back, Midge tiptoed among the debris, sniffing anxiously as she detected the strange scent of the men who had done this. The odor of gunpowder lingered in the air. No one spoke as they walked grimly among the debris that had been their camp, examining the destruction. Nothing was salvageable, but the message was clear: Get out! Suddenly, one of the horses whinnied, a loud shrill call that seemed to reverberate through the still air, and all three officers stopped and turned toward it. Out of sight of the humans, the horse had apparently become anxious and called out a reminder that it was still there. Grimly, they exchanged glances, certain that the whinny would be heard by the shooters. The Watcher was certain of that too, and quickly decided that he had to do something about it. Rising to his feet, he followed the path back down the sloping ground and approached the horses. The nervous animals turned toward him, ears alert, and sidestepped away from him. One horse snorted in protest and shied away from the hand that reached for the reins. One quick jerk, and the knot was open. One by one, each horse was similarly freed, and the man took off his cap and waved it at the skittish horses. All four horses wheeled away from him, and burst into a panicked gallop, crashing through the trees toward the campsite. Street, Luca, and McCabe whirled toward the sound of thundering hooves as the horses burst into the clearing. All three men stepped in front of the stampede, waving their arms in an attempt to stop the horses, but the panicked animals merely swerved around them. Helplessly, they watched as their means of transportation thundered past them, galloped across the clearing and vanished into the trees on the other end of the meadow. Instinctively, all three of the young officers started to give chase, knowing that the horses were their only ride back to civilization, but they had only gone a few dozen yards when they pulled up and stopped, realizing the futility of their actions. Midge bounded excitedly ahead of them, then stopped and turned around, as if wondering why they had stopped. No words were spoken between the men, but the same thought had occurred to all of them: There was no possible way that they could catch the horses. For several moments, they stood gazing at the tree line where the horses had entered, listening to the clattering of their shod hooves on the rocks, until the sounds became too distant and faded away. All three were breathing heavily, more from anxiety and frustration than from exhaustion. What do we do now? expressions were tossed between them as they considered the dilemma they were now in, then they looked apprehensively around them, at the trees and shadows which seemed to close in on them, menacingly. Finally, Luca sighed heavily and spoke the words they had all been thinking. “Okay, what are we supposed to do now? A bunch of drug dealers have murdered someone, possibly a law officer, shot up our camp and it was probably them that scared off our horses, and we don’t have a weapon between us except a filleting knife.” “Which is in the pack on Daisy’s harness,” Street sighed, then added, “Along with the map.” “I stand corrected: we don’t a weapon at all between us,” Luca amended his statement. “Well, we certainly can’t go back to the camp,” T. J. said, turning around to face the destruction in their campsite. So far, there was still no sign of the armed men, but he knew that would probably change within minutes. “It’s almost certain that those guys heard the horse whinny as well as the commotion of them running through the camp. They will probably turn back, realizing that we’ve returned. They could even be there in the trees waiting for us right now. I think we have no choice but to walk out of here on foot.” “We’ll have to stay under cover as much as possible,” Street added. “Out here, we’re easy targets.” His eyes studied their campsite, but like T. J. he saw no indication of the shooters. “Let’s get out of the open and talk about this.” Quickly, they sprinted into the trees at the nearest entry point. The horses were long gone, and would likely make their way back to Bob’s stable. They were mildly reassured that Bob would realize that something was wrong and would send help, but in the meantime they were on their own, outnumbered and outgunned, against a dangerous enemy. The high bluff that had flanked their camp could be seen farther back in the trees, and T. J.’s training and the execution of his job dictated that the best place to be was the high ground. Tilting his head back, he looked up at the bluff, and realized that the summit would give them a good view of the camp. He gestured toward it. “Let’s get up on that bluff. We should be able to see the camp, and if these guys come back, we can safely observe them and see what we’re dealing with. Then we can decide what we need to do.” Luca nodded. “Sounds reasonable.” Street nodded. “I agree.” As quietly as possible, they picked their way through the undergrowth, seeking a suitable place to climb the bluff. At last, they found a narrow path that led up the sloping ground among the rocks, twisting and turning as it snaked upward toward the summit. Without speaking, they automatically followed it. Realizing where they were headed, Midge brushed past their legs, determined to take the lead, and she reached the top well ahead of them. The climb was fairly easy for them, having kept in excellent condition for their jobs, and when they reached the top they turned to look back down the path they had ascended. “Is it me, or does that look suspiciously like a trail?” Luca asked. “I was thinking the same thing, but I was hoping it was just me,” T. J. responded. “I’d say it’s definitely a trail,” Street confirmed. “But we’ll have to worry about it later. T. J., since you’re used to finding the best spots, you lead the way.” T. J. took the lead, with Midge still trotting ahead of him. He snapped his fingers to attract the dog’s attention, then patted his left leg, a silent command to heel. With a soft sigh, Midge lowered her head with disappointment and obediently moved beside him. The trees grew thick on the summit of the bluff and the slopes, and as they picked their way cautiously toward the edge nearest their camp, they stepped as quietly as possible in an attempt to avoid giving away their location. Finally, T. J. crouched down and gave the “down” signal to Midge, pushing his hand, palm down, toward the ground. The dog dropped onto her belly and watched anxiously as the three humans crept toward the rocky edge. There were plenty of trees between the bluff and the clearing and much of the camp was obscured by the limbs and leaves, but there were gaps that offered a suitable place for viewing the campsite. Lying down on their bellies, propped up on their elbows, they settled down to watch, and discovered that the camp was no longer empty. Four men were walking slowly among the tattered tents and packs, kicking aside the fabric with their boots to see if anyone was hiding under them. All four were dressed casually in denims and work shirts, but the weapons they carried at the ready were anything but casual. T. J. exhaled in a way that under normal circumstances would have been a whistle, but this time was simply an exhale of air through pursed lips. “Thompson submachine guns,” he whispered. “These guys mean business!” The three SWAT officers glanced at each other, grimly, understanding that these were the men assigned the task of guarding the marijuana, and were the likely killers of the man who was lying near the other pond. They heard the electronic crackle of a walkie-talkie, and one of the men raised it to his lips. “Yeah,” he said. His voice was faint, but just detectable to the officers who watched. The electronic voice came back over the instrument, its message chilling, “We found hoof prints near the field. Looks like they found the body and the merchandise. You’re going to have to find them and kill them. Do not let them get away!” T. J. briefly lowered his forehead onto his wrist in reaction to the death order, then raised his head again and glanced at his friends. Street shook his head, grimly. “You heard him,” the man with the walkie-talkie said. “We find them and eliminate them.” They spread out, looking at the ground for clues to the whereabouts of their prey. Finally, one of them gestured with his rifle in the direction that the horses had gone, and they started walking across the meadow. “They’re following the horses,” Luca said, quietly, realizing that they themselves had almost gone after them. “Yeah,” T. J. agreed, solemnly. “Damn, I wish I had my rifle! I could probably take two of them down before they realized what hit them. That would level the playing field somewhat.” No one answered. There was no need to. They totally agreed. Partway across the meadow, the four men stopped and appeared to be discussing their course of action against the campers who had unintentionally stumbled onto their illegal operation. They were calm and unhurried, as if confident that they would find and eliminate their prey. “I wish I could hear what they were saying,” Street remarked, quietly. After several moments, two of the men continued toward the trees where the horses had gone, while the other two turned back toward the campsite. “They’re splitting up,” T. J. said, then asked the question they were all wondering, “Do you think they’ll kill the horses if they find them?” “Probably,” Luca answered. “They know the horses will head for home. Hopefully, they will stay far enough ahead of them that they can’t catch up.” He fell silent for a moment, pondering an unanswered question. “I don’t get it,” he said at last. “They’re obviously looking for us; two following the horses like they expect us to be with them and two coming back just in case we’re not with them. If they knew we had returned to the camp, wouldn’t they have sneaked up on us? I mean, what’s the point of freeing the horses and driving them through the camp like that?” All three men were silent for a moment, thinking about that. “Unless they aren’t the ones who released them,” T. J. suggested at last. “That means there’s someone else out here,” Luca said. “I bet he’s the one who sneaked into the camp last night. If he was one of them, they would have dealt with us long before now.” “Yeah,” Street agreed. “You’re probably right. So, who is this other guy, and what’s he doing out here? And why did he release the horses?” They looked at each other again and shook their heads, unable to come up with an answer. Turning back toward the camp, their eyes continued to follow the two men who returned to their camp and seemed to be looking at the ground, as if searching for tracks to follow. Luca folded his arms on the ground in front of him and rested his chin on the back of his hand, watching as the two men perused the trampled grass and soil in the camp. He would never have been able to pick out one footprint from another, but he knew that an experienced tracker would be able to do just that. “Do you think they’re skilled at tracking?” he whispered. “Probably not,” T. J. answered, promptly. Luca and Street turned their heads to look at him. “Why’s that?” Luca asked. “Because if they were, they would have realized that we left the camp chasing the horses and then never returned to the camp before we went into the trees.” The other two men nodded in agreement. “Makes sense,” Luca said. In the camp, the two men finally gave up their study of the ground, and one of them raised a walkie-talkie to his mouth and spoke into it. They could hear the electronic sound of the voice from the other end of the conversation, and they cocked their heads and listened intently, trying to make out the words. This time, the man was farther away, and their voices were muffled. “Did you catch any of that?” Street whispered when the communication ended. “Not a word,” T. J. replied. “Same here,” Luca agreed. Finally, the two armed men apparently decided that there was nothing to be learned from examining the items in the camp, and they slowly moved off to their right. Their posture was alert and attentive, their eyes sweeping the area around them as they continued to search for clues to tell them whether their prey were on the horses or if they had used the horses as decoys. All three of the SWAT officers felt suddenly uneasy, but it was Street who spoke the words: “They’ve got us between them, now. I think we should find a place to lay low until dark. Then we can travel with less risk of being seen.” Carefully to avoid knocking any rocks down the face of the bluff, they scooted backward away from the edge before standing up. Placing their feet cautiously on the loose rocks and twigs, they crept back into the brush for cover. T. J. signaled Midge, and even though she did not understand the desperate situation they were in, she sensed their nervousness and seemed to understand that she must be quiet and obedient, for she promptly obeyed his hand signals and remained at his side as they pushed deeper into the undergrowth traveling down the gently curving back slope of the bluff. The forest was denser in this area. Vines, snaking along the forest floor, snared their ankles, rotting limbs that had dropped from the treetops provided unstable footing beneath last years accumulation of leaves, and small saplings were shooting upward, searching for light, so they were forced to keep their eyes low, watching for tripping hazards as they picked their way through the woods. There were no sounds of gunfire, so the men had not yet found the horses, and the SWAT officers could only hope and pray that the animals would make it safely back to Bob’s stable. The sun continued its trek across the sky at an agonizingly slow pace as Street, Luca, and T. J. proceeded deeper into the forested slopes and valleys of Bob Carver’s enormous expanse of undeveloped land. For a long time, the only sound was the rustling of dry leaves on the forest floor as they walked through it and the monotonous whirring of cicadas in the tree tops. Curiously, they saw no rabbits or squirrels, yet the area seemed to be a perfect place for populations of small wildlife. After a long time, they stopped to rest, leaning against trees rather than sitting down. While the rested, they listened intently, trying to catch the sound of a human foot passing nearby. They heard nothing except the ever present sound of the cicadas and the trickling sounds of a nearby creek. “There’s a stream up ahead,” Luca said, keeping his voice low. “I wonder if the water is safe for us to drink?” T. J. shook his head. “No way of knowing. It could contain any number of contaminants and bacteria. However, if we are out here more than another day, we may not have any choice but to take our chances.” Pushing himself away from the tree, Street instigated the continuation of their journey through the woods, moving toward the happy gurgling sounds of the stream that they could not yet see, until at last they saw the jagged edges of the bank. Reluctant to move into the less dense areas, they approached it with caution and paused at the edge of the tree line. From their position, they could not see the water at the bottom, for it had a high bank carved out of the ground many years earlier by higher, fast moving water, but they could hear it, a soothing sound as it trickled over the rocks. Deeming it safe, they left the cover of the trees and walked to the edge and looked down at the gently running meandering ribbon of water that had carved a long cleft into the earth, some eight feet deep. It had once been a very wide, deep creek, but now it was reduced to a mere trickle at the very bottom of the shallow ravine. A flat bank of pebbles and rocks stretched on either side of the narrow stream, reaching toward the sides of the ravine. The sides were steep, but T. J. pointed to a spot on their right. “I think we can get down over there.” They moved toward it, and T. J. took the lead, picking his way slowly down the steep ground. The soil was loose and the footing unstable, but he managed to make it down without mishap. Midge was not so lucky. In her haste to catch up with her master, she lost her footing and rolled most of the way. She jumped up and shook herself off with an expression that Luca swore was doggie embarrassment. Looking up at T. J., she offered a tentative wag of her tail, and he stroked her head with a smile of amusement. “That first step’s a doozie,” he told her. Luca started down next with Street behind him, and both made it down safely. Crossing the bed of pebbles, they knelt down beside the stream to splash their faces. The water was cold and refreshing, but they did not drink, knowing that the water was probably unsafe for human consumption. Midge splashed blissfully into it, lapping loudly with her tongue. “Let’s walk down here in the streambed,” Street suggested. “Our tracks will be harder to follow in the gravel than in the soft dirt.” No one commented, but as one they turned and started walking along the streambed, the gravel crunching under their shoes. T. J. was careful to look behind them, verifying that they were leaving no discernable trace of their passing. The streambed widened and narrowed in places as it meandered through the countryside. Sometimes, they were forced to step into the water to navigate narrow passages, other times they were able to walk three abreast. After nearly half an hour, they paused to rest for a few moments. Here, the creek bed was around five feet deep, very wide, and heavily eroded. On their left, at the top of the bank, an ancient tree grew right at the edge in the eroding soil, its gnarled, exposed roots, extending outward toward the stream. The wind and water had washed away the soil, forming a small, cave-like cavity which yawned beneath those snarled, twisted roots, yet it seemed large enough to be investigated as a possible hiding place. All three stooped to peer between the two most widely spaced roots. Additional roots snaked throughout the cavity, but there appeared to be just enough room for three men and a dog to hide inside. “What d’you think?” Luca asked. “I think I need to rest a while before going on,” T. J. replied. “And this looks as good a place as any. At least we’re somewhat hidden from those killers.” He shrugged. “Well, better than we would be out in the open, anyway.” They turned to Street for his input, but he merely nodded in agreement. Luca, the smallest, slipped inside first and stepped up onto a small ledge of earth, then sat down, his back pressed against the cool soil. T. J. stooped and slipped inside next, and sat down on the ground just below Luca, his back against one of the many roots that jutted down into the soil, anchoring the tree to the ground. Midge crowded in beside him and snuggled down at his side, her chin resting on his thigh. Street cast a wary glance in all directions before joining his friends and colleagues beneath the root-cavity. It was close and cramped quarters hidden there among the tangle of roots that jutted down out of their natural ceiling, but all three were grateful for the opportunity to sit down and rest in relative safety. T. J. turned over his wrist to glance at his watch, and announced quietly, “It’s almost six thirty. It’ll be dark in a couple of hours.” “With any luck, those guys will settle down for the night,” Street said. “At the very least, we’ll have the darkness to help conceal our movements.” Inside the close quarters of their hiding place, the three officers settled down to rest and wait for nightfall. They could see outside between the thick, ropey roots and knew that anyone walking along the creek bed would likely see them, but they hoped their pursuers would pass right by at the top of the embankment without realizing that they were there. They were uncertain how long they had been there when they were alerted to an unwelcome presence by the sound of pebbles crunching under heavy boots. Rousing themselves to full alertness, they watched as one of the heavily armed men walked along the edge of the water, eyes averted, looking for tracks in the soft soil at the water’s edge. Occasionally, he stopped and squatted down to observe something interesting, then proceeded, still keeping an attentive eye to the ground. As he neared the tangle of roots in which the three officers were hiding, he uttered a soft, “ah-ha!”, and knelt down to closer examine a track he had found at the water’s edge. With a jolt, they realized that Midge had probably left her paw prints in the muddy soil at the stream’s edge. Luca, T. J., and Street watched apprehensively as the gunman rose to his feet and slowly advanced toward them. As luck would have it, he stopped directly in front of the tangle of roots, turning slowly as he scanned the area, searching for his prey. The Tommy gun rested against his hip, muzzle down but ready to bring into firing position. On reflex, the three SWAT officers shrank back into the dusky recesses of their cave-like depression, watching attentively as the drug dealer scanned the area. Desperately, they hoped he would keep his back to them. He was large and muscular, built like a grizzly, and probably weighed well over 200 pounds, a formidable opponent, even for all three of them together. As if aware that he was being watched, the man slowly turned toward them. Seated nearest the opening of the roots, Street launched himself at the man before he could raise the gun into firing position, and the two of them sprawled on the ground. The automatic rifle leaped from the startled man’s hands, and landed in the stream with a loud splash. T. J. and Luca burst from the hideout to assist their friend, but the drug dealer managed to drive Luca back with a well-placed kick to the shin. Luca stumbled back with a painful curse, his hands going to the injury. As the SWAT unit’s long rifleman, T. J.’s first instinct was to go after the rifle, the one object that could level the playing field somewhat, but as he rushed toward it, he saw that Street was getting the worst end of the fight. Skidding to a halt on the loose gravel, he left the weapon where it was and rushed into the fray while Midge stood back barking frantically. Setting aside his pain, Luca also jumped back into the fight. The man was even stronger than they had anticipated, and he managed to throw Street off, sending the SWAT officer reeling backwards to land heavily on his back in the gravel. Grabbing Luca by the front of the shirt, he flung the smaller man to the ground and pinning him to the ground by the neck with one big, beefy hand, he withdrew a hunting knife from a sheath at his belt with the other. “He has a knife!” Street croaked a warning, still trying to draw in enough air to combat the suffocating sensations of having the breath knocked out of him. T. J. grabbed the man’s wrist from behind in an effort to prevent the downward plunge that could end Luca’s life, and it became a tense arm wrestle as each man struggled against the other. Suddenly, the drug dealer yelled with annoyance, and T. J. saw that Midge had jumped into the fight. Realizing that her human friends were fighting for their lives against this stranger, she had latched onto the hem of the man’s pant leg and was tugging on it with enough force to pull him part way off Luca. Distracted, he viciously kicked the dog away, but after a yelp of surprise, she scrambled to her feet and latched onto him again, this time sinking her teeth into his calf. He yelled again and attempted to swipe at the dog with the knife, but Luca had the wrist securely in both hands and forcibly held it at arms length. While Street jumped back into the foray and seized the wrist as well, T. J. knew he had to end it, and he was the only one in a position to do so. Quickly, he wrapped one arm around the man’s neck and twisted his head sharply to one side. There was a sickening crunch, then the attacker went limp, his body completely covering Luca. T. J. helped throw the body off the younger officer, and Luca scrambled to his feet. The three men stood silently for several moments, staring down at the dead drug dealer, all of them gasping for breath. Midge backed up, still barking. “Is everyone okay?” T. J. asked. Street’s hand was on his chest, and nodded, “Just had the wind knocked out of me.” Luca slapped T. J.’s arm with appreciation. “Thanks, man. For a moment there, I thought I was a goner!” The three officers finally allowed their bodies to relax for several moments, and then they became of aware of Midge’s frantic barking. “Midge, quiet!” T. J. commanded. The dog instantly became quiet, but the damage was done. They heard the crackle of the walkie-talkie that was lying nearby. “They’re over by the stream. I can hear their dog barking.” The officers looked at each other in alarm. “We need to get moving!” Street said. T. J. snatched the rifle from the stream, grimacing at the water that poured from the magazine. “Damn it.” “We have to get out of this creek bed,” Street said, drawing their attention away from the rifle. “They’ll be heading this way.” He nodded toward the rifle. “Is it salvageable?” T. J. sighed heavily, and shook his head. “With proper cleaning, yes. Right now? Not a chance.” He pitched it back into the water. There was no point in burdening themselves with a weapon that was useless to them. Luca bent down and retrieved the hunting knife. It had a long sturdy blade, and might come in handy. As they walked past it, Street bent down to retrieve the walkie-talkie. The conversations of their pursuers would be helpful in staying ahead of them. Then, the three men and the dog proceeded downstream and found a good place to climb back out on the other side. They had not gone far when they heard the crackle of activity on the walkie-talkie, and a course voice said, “They killed Warwick. His rifle is in the water, but they took his walkie-talkie. We’re going to have to minimize our use of the talkies, and use alternating frequencies in the pattern laid out by Hart. Does everyone understand?” The remaining two men voiced their understanding, and the radio went silent. “These guys are good,” Street said. “I had hoped they wouldn’t think about the missing walkie-talkie.” He hefted it with disappointment, then tossed it into the brush. It was useless to them now. |
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| Five “I sure wish we had gotten hold of that rifle before it landed in the water,” T. J. lamented as they climbed out of the creek bed using a more gently sloping bank they had found a quarter mile from Warwick’s body. Street patted T. J. on the shoulder, comfortingly. “I know,” he said. “We all do, but none of us could have foreseen what happened. When I lunged at him, it just flew out of his hands.” “Sometimes our luck isn’t the best,” Luca agreed, utilizing a low-hanging branch as a handhold to help pull himself onto the higher ground, “but it isn’t anyone’s fault. They seem to have completely split up to search for us. A foolish thing to do, if you think about it. Still, it gives us a bit of an edge.” “As long as we spot them first,” T. J. reminded him. “Obviously, they figured that they could cover more ground if all four of them separated.” “We’ll have to keep alert,” Street said. His eyes fell upon the dog, which scrambled up the sloping bank behind her master, and shook the dust from her coat. “She can be helpful in warning us when they’re coming close, but she can also give away our position." Realizing that he was talking about her, Midge looked up at with solemn brown eyes and gave an apologetic wag of her tail. “We’d better get going,” Luca suggested. “At least one of those guys will be heading this direction.” Keeping a wary eye turned to the foliage around them, they moved deeper into the forest in the general direction that they believed Bob’s ranch house to be, but the truth was, none of them knew for certain that they were headed in the right direction. No one spoke this grave concern, but it weighed heavily on their minds. Midge, who seemed to understand that they were in danger and was no longer interested in seeking out game, walked at her master’s side, occasionally coming to attention to peer into the forest, nose twitching. Each time, her alert posture brought the humans to an abrupt halt, looking and listening for sounds of leaves crunching or of twigs snapping under a heavy boot or small branches and saplings being pushed aside as someone moved through it. After a few moments, satisfied that there was no danger, the dog would relax and they would proceed. The forest soon became dusky beneath the canopy, and they knew they would soon lose the light. They had moved into curiously rugged terrain, filled with hills, bluffs, small ravines, and rocky precipices. As they climbed the sloping ground, Street said, “Guys, I have a bad feeling we’ve wandered onto the public land behind Bob’s property. I can’t imagine this being part of his ranch.” “I was thinking the same thing,” T. J. agreed. “I just didn’t want to say it.” Luca trudged ahead of the others, having taken the lead through a particularly dense stand of trees and brush, and he listened quietly to the concerns presented by the other two. He was not particularly surprised to discover that they were probably headed in the wrong direction. Without the map and without the ability to see the sun’s progression across the sky due to the thick foliage, it was impossible to determine where they were going. In the perpetual shade beneath the canopy, there was little grass on which to tread. Moss-covered rocks and cool brown earth was dotted here and there by wild orchids and clumps of wispy ferns which nodded gently as they passed. There was no path to follow, and Luca glanced frequently at the ground in front of him to avoid tripping over unexpected tangles of vines or rocks that jutted up through the soil. The ground continued to rise subtly, and he knew they were steadily climbing. One more hill among countless other hills in the territory. He was getting tired, and knew that his friends were tired as well. They had been walking nonstop ever since overpowering Warwick. His feet were aching, and his throat was parched. The jugs of drinking water they had brought with them had been destroyed by the gunfire at the camp – all except the one that was still attached to Daisy’s pack-saddle. I should have spent this vacation in Vegas! he thought, bitterly. But no, I let myself get talked into this wilderness nightmare! He sighed, heavily, feeling a bit guilty by his thoughts. Had he not been there with his friends, they would have been at an even greater disadvantage than they already were. Each man counted, and Street and T. J. would have been at greater risk without his presence. The surface on which he was walking was rough, and Luca stubbed the toe of his shoe against the edge of a half-buried stone, bringing his attention back to the ground in front of him. Recovering from his trip, he discovered with a start that he was advancing toward the edge of a ravine. He stopped abruptly, observing the deep, rocky abyss that yawned in front of him. The ravine was a rocky fissure, too wide to jump across. A few trees gripped a tenacious foothold on the very edge, and young growth had sprung up among the rocks and boulders along the steep sides below. It was beautiful and picturesque, but at the moment, it presented an impenetrable obstacle. “Guess we can’t go this way,” he said. Street and T. J. came up behind him, and they stopped and looked down at the deep ravine that yawned before them. “Which way?” T. J. asked. He pointed to his right. “I guess that way is as good as any.” No one had any better suggestions, so they moved off to the right, following the edge of the ravine. They had not gone far when Midge suddenly stopped in her tracks and uttered a low growl, her attention directed down the trail behind them. Someone was following, footsteps heard only by her. Their first instinct was to melt back against the rocks beside them, hoping that he would pass by in the vanishing light and never see them, but they all knew that if he walked in front of them, he would undoubtedly see them. The situation would be greatly in their favor if they took the upper hand and dealt with the man before he saw them. The area was dense with undergrowth, and T. J.’s eyes fell upon a low clump of shrubs along the path behind them. “I’ll take him down,” he whispered. “When he goes down, you know what to do.” Turning to Midge, he commanded firmly, “Stay. Quiet.” On his belly, the sharpshooter crawled beneath the shrubs and waited. Within minutes, he heard the crunching of leaves and twigs beneath a booted foot, and then soon after the man came into view. Like the first one, he was large and muscular, and carried in his hands was the Tommy gun that T. J. wanted so desperately. He stopped a few yards from the clump of shrubs that T. J. was hiding under, and looked around, clearly searching for his prey. Then his eyes dropped to the ground and he examined the rocky soil for evidence that they had passed that way. Finding a paw print in the dust, he knelt down to examine it. It could be a coyote; they were abundant in that area. But more likely, it was the dog belonging to the intruders he was following. He smiled with satisfaction. “Gotcha!” he muttered. Rising up again, he proceeded up the trail toward the rocky outcropping. Suddenly, something grabbed him around the ankle and pulled, yanking him off his feet. He landed heavily on the hard, rocky ground with a thud and a grunt, and before he could recover, two men leaped from behind the trunks of large trees while a third, the one who had tripped him, snatched the rifle from his startled hands. An instant later, he was looking up the wrong end of the barrel of his own gun, and he instantly froze. “Get your hands where I can see ‘em,” T. J. commanded in a voice that meant business. Slowly, the man raised his hands in surrender, laying them beside his ears on the ground. The other two men backed off, breathing heavily and staring down at him, but he was quick to notice that there was no fear on their faces. He was merely something that needed to be dealt with. He glared back, waiting to see what would happen next. The dog rushed up and sniffed at his boots, but he dared not try to kick her away. The comfort with which the man with the rifle was handling his weapon left no doubt in his mind that he was experienced, and that he might just decide to shoot if he moved. Stepping forward again, Street and Luca roughly flipped him over onto his abdomen and stretched him out full length face down. Street knelt down with his knee pressed forcefully into their captive’s back while he and Luca twisted his wrists together. All the while, T. J, kept the muzzle of the rifle in the man’s face, the only thing that prevented him from struggling against his captors. He glared up at them, lips parted and teeth clenched, revealing gaps where several teeth had been knocked out at some point in his life. The remaining teeth were stained yellow from tobacco. Obviously, he had seen a number of fights, but had rarely seen a dentist. Still holding him firmly by one wrist while Luca held the other, Street fumbled through the man’s pockets, searching for something they could use to tie him up. To his surprise, he found a pair of handcuffs in the front pocket, and he held them up for all to see. “Did these belong to the law officer you and your men murdered back at the pond?” Street asked. They saw surprise flicker briefly in his eyes, silent confirmation, then was replaced by a harsh expression of rage and hate. “We saw the body,” Street continued as he continued searching the man’s pockets. The only weapon was a long hunting knife in a sheath on his belt, which he removed and tossed aside. The walkie-talkie was also removed and tossed aside. “Obviously, you murdered him and threw his body in the pond to hide it. What happened? Did he get too close to your marijuana patch?” Their captive continued to glare at them, but he remained silent. Luca added, “It was you guys who barricaded the gap to try to keep people out, wasn’t it? I don’t know how long you were up here, but it was only a matter of time before you were discovered. Your little enterprise is on private property. You have no right being there.” When their queries failed to bring a response, Luca and Street flipped the man over on to his back and dragged him to the nearest tree, positioned near the edge of the ravine, where they snapped the cuff on one wrist then wove the cuff chain around the trunk and snapped the other cuff closed on the other wrist. Satisfied that he was safely secured, they stood back to look at him, noticing the expression of sheer hate that glared back at them. With the man securely bound, T. J. relaxed the rifle, but remained alert, ready to bring it into firing position again if circumstances warranted such a response. “Who are you?” Luca asked. The man spat at him. Luca watched the foamy saliva arch through the air and land with a splatter on the pebbles at his feet. “Didn’t your mama teach you that spitting is an unacceptable method of expression to use in public?” Luca asked in a taunting fashion. “Go to hell!” the man snarled. “You first!” T. J. responded, raising the rifle into firing positing again and looking down the long barrel at him. For a moment, everyone present thought he would shoot, and they all saw a trace of fear in the harsh gray eyes. Apparently their captive believed he was about to be shot, for he grimaced and looked away, not wanting to see it coming. Finally, he blurted, “All right! Don’t shoot! What do you want to know?” “For starters, you might tell us your name,” Street suggested. “Crowe.” “All right, Crowe. My name is Street; this is Luca and McCabe. Who do you work for?” “You cops?” Crowe asked. Street lifted a curious eyebrow. “Why do you ask that?” “The way you handle yourselves.” He jerked his head toward T. J. “The way he handles my rifle. He’s used one before.” “Very observant. All right; we’re cops. S.W.A.T., to be exact.” “What?” “S.W.A.T. Special Weapons and Tactics. They call us in when they’ve exhausted all other means of apprehending criminals.” “So you were up here looking for us?” “No. We were up here on a fishing trip. We never would have ridden over to the other pond and found the body or your marijuana patch if not for the fact that the one near our camp has been emptied of fish. What happened there, anyway? Some kind of pesticide runoff that you’re using on your crops?” “I don’t know nothin’ about that. We never even been to that other pond until this afternoon.” “So why did you go this afternoon?” “We seen yer campfire last night and knew that someone was too close. We went to investigate, and decided to leave you a warning.” “Your own special calling card, eh?” Luca asked. “You might say that. We wanted to scare you off, but our boss said we was fools, that you might go to the cops and tell about the shootin’, so he sent us back to finish the job.” There was no doubt in their minds what “finish the job” meant. “You’ve got a camp up there or something?” Luca asked. “We live in tents on the far side of the meadow during growing season. Our job is to keep people away from the crop until it’s harvested.” “Was it one of your men who came into our camp last night?” “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about. We came down this afternoon to investigate the campfire. We didn’t get there before then.” “So who was in our camp?” “How should I know?” “You don’t know of anyone else up here?” “If I did, he’d be dead. Our employers don’t tolerate trespassers.” “Have you forgotten that you’re the ones who are trespassing?” T. J. asked. “This land weren’t bein’ used for nothin’!” Crowe protested, as if that justified the illegal use of the land. “It’s good fertile land, just goin’ to waste!” “And it’s in a nice, out of the way location for conducting illegal business, right?” “Who do you work for?” Street asked, repeating his earlier question that had never been answered. Crowe looked nervous, and his eyes darted down the curving trail, searching for his co-workers, but no one was in sight. The three S.W.A.T. officers also glanced apprehensively in that direction, wondering if any of the other men were moving in that direction and might appear on the scene. So far, there was no sign of anyone else. Turning his attention back to their captive, Street asked again, “Who do you work for?” “They’ll kill me if I talk!” he protested. T. J. leaned toward the the drug dealer, bringing the barrel of the rifle threateningly close to the stubbled face. “And we’ll kill you if you don’t?” he threatened. Crowe’s eyes focused on the rifle, its black orifice mere inches from his face, and with surprising speed and accuracy, he lashed out with one foot, kicking the weapon from T. J.’s hands. The rifle catapulted end over end on the rocks and disappeared over the edge of the ravine, clattering and banging all the way to the bottom. For several moments, the three S.W.A.T. officers stared in shocked disbelief at the edge of the ravine where the rifle had disappeared, listening to the sounds it made during its tumble down the ravine and the silence that followed. Midge crept up to the abyss to look over the edge, her ears lifted curiously as she looked down at the rifle, which now lay at the bottom. Enraged at the loss of another rifle with which to defend themselves, T. J. snatched the hunting knife from the ground and pressed its sharp blade against its owner’s fleshy neck. “I should slit your throat!” he threatened. His face was flushed with fury and his typically kind blue eyes were harsh and dangerously narrowed. Crowe looked directly back at him and chuckled, nervously. “But you won’t,” he said, trying to demonstrate more confidence than he actually felt. “You ain’t got it in ya, boy. You ain’t like me. I’d’ve killed all three of ya without batting an eye, but you won’t commit murder. I seen yer kind before. Honorable men,” he spat as if the word was foul. “Honor won’t let you murder a man while he’s bound and helpless.” T. J. was breathing hard as he struggled to control his temper, clearly tempted to plunge the knife into the man’s throat, but he knew that Crowe was right; no matter how infuriated he was, he was no murderer. Angrily, he elbowed his captive in the face, splitting his lip, then stood up and backed away, forcing himself to calm down. Luca gazed at his partner with sympathetic eyes, understanding the immense frustration that the sharpshooter must have been feeling at that moment. “You okay, Teej?” he asked. T. J. rubbed his hand along the back of his neck, as if nursing a headache, and nodded, still too angry to speak. Crowe spat bloody froth from his mouth and laughed at him, mockingly. “See? Ain’t got it in ya. You fancy yerself bettern’n me, don’t’cha?” “I would advise you to shut your mouth,” Street warned, his voice deadly quiet. Apparently Crowe decided it might be prudent to follow directions, for he became silent, waiting to see what they would do with him. Apparently, that was on the minds of the three officers as they looked down at him. “So, what are we going to do with him?” Luca finally asked the question. “We have no choice but to leave him here,” Street answered. Crowe tensed visibly. “Wait, you can’t leave me here!” He glanced apprehensively at the wilderness around him. “There’s wild animals around here! Even bobcats and cougars!” “That’s your problem,” Street said, coldly. “You were right about one thing, Crowe. We’re not murderers. We follow the law that we were sworn to uphold. However, we can’t take you with us, so that means you have to stay here and take your chances with the animals. When we get out of here, we’ll send someone back for you. If we can find it again,” he added. He gestured with a nod of his head, and the three men and the dog started up the trail. “Midge, come,” T. J. commanded. The dog eagerly rejoined her human companions, trotting at her master’s side as they walked away. “Wait!” Crowe shouted in a panic. “You can’t leave me tied up like this!” “We’ll send someone back for you,” Luca called over his shoulder. “And you’d better hope none of your buddies kills us,” T. J. added. “Because if anything happens to us, you have no chance at all of being found. Remember, we’re the only ones who know where you are.” That frightened the drug dealer as nothing else could, but there was nothing he could do except watch the retreating figures until they disappeared from view, and he was left completely alone. In the rear this time, Luca glanced over his shoulder, listening to the drug dealer’s pathetic cries for help. He knew that Crowe would not have thought twice about putting bullets in each other them, yet decency resided in the heart of the young S.W.A.T. officer and his partners. He knew it would be dangerous for the unfortunate man to be tied up overnight, but there was nothing else that could be done with him. It would be risky for them to bring him along, and he would be looking for any opportunity to overpower them or escape. No; there was no choice but to leave him there. Heaving a deep sigh of regret, Luca turned his back and jogged to catch up with his friends. For a while, Crowe continued to shout for help, his frantic calls echoing through the hills and ravines, hoping one of his comrades would hear him, but then he realized that he might be leading the wild animals directly to him, and finally he fell silent. As darkness descended over the landscape, the drug dealer continued to look frantically about, wondering what the coming night would bring. The entire forest seemed quieter than usual, as if nature itself was listening for the sound of the predators that he knew resided in the area. | ||
| Six “I think we’re lost,” Street said, his voice breaking the silence that the trio of SWAT officers had maintained during their hike through the dark, forested slopes. “Damn it, I wish we’d gotten that map out of the saddle bag before losing the horses.” “I wish we hadn’t lost the horses,” Luca responded, glumly. “On horseback, we could have gotten far ahead of those guys. In fact, we’d probably be back at the ranch house by now eating some of Clara’s homemade apple pie.” “Please, don’t remind me of food!” Street told him, his hand automatically going to his empty stomach. “I don’t think we could see the map, even if we had it,” T. J. said rather gloomily, referring to the darkness that pressed down on them from all directions beneath the forest canopy. “If the horses get back, someone should be out looking for us in the morning. We haven’t heard any shots so far, so that must mean they haven’t found them.” Luca hated to point out the obvious, but it was necessary to present every possibility, so that it could be dealt with. “That’s true, but there is also the possibility that they could have been captured without shooting them or that they’re simply out of hearing range by now. We have no idea.” T. J.’s heavy sigh came back to him through the darkness, but the other man made no comment. It was true; they had no idea. “Well,” Street said after a long silence. “We just have to be prepared to make our way out of here by ourselves.” By unspoken consent, they stopped walking and stood grouped together as if for protection. A cloud drifted across the moon, blocking out the light. They had no clue to the direction they should travel to get back to Bob’s ranch house. The silence around them was intense, and they listened intently for the sound of twigs snapping under a booted foot or the rustling of leaves that would indicate that someone was following, but they heard nothing except the monotonous chirping of crickets and the trilling sound of tree frogs. They had been traveling for hours, but without the map to follow, their direction was rather aimless, choosing hard, rocky ground over soft turf to keep from leaving footprints. Tension was high, and they used all their skills and training to evade detection. Slowly, the cloud continued its path across the sky, and the moonlight brightened their path again. “Well, as long as we stay ahead of those guys, we should be okay regardless of where we’re headed,” Luca’s voice finally broke the silence. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m getting tired.” “Yeah, me too,” Street said. He looked up at the sky, observing the silvery moonlight that shown down on them like a spotlight. “Let’s get in that thicket over there,” he added, pointing with his finger toward a dense clump of brush. “The bushes and trees are pretty thick there, so we should be able to see anyone approaching before they see us.” No one acknowledged the suggestion verbally, but it seemed like a good idea, so they moved as quietly as possible through the thick shrubs and into a stand of young trees. Finding a suitable spot well under cover, they sat down to rest on the cool mossy ground amid the tangle of vines and last year’s fallen leaves. Midge crowded close to her master and rested her head on his thigh. Absently, he stroked her soft head and floppy ears. Luca folded his arms on his raised knees and rested his forehead on them, but he was in no danger of falling asleep; he had never felt less like sleeping in his life. Street was restless, shifting position several times in an attempt to find the best vantage point to observe their surroundings, and finally leaned back against the tree behind him. For a long time, no one spoke as they rested from their hike through the back country. Thin ribbons of moonlight penetrated the dense foliage of the thicket. Ground mist was starting to fill the low lying areas, and Luca’s hair responded to the increased humidity by forming ringlets around his face and ears. He hated his curly hair and took great care to straighten it each morning, but for once, he was too preoccupied with other matters to concern himself with it. Finally, after an indeterminable amount of time, Luca lifted his forehead from its resting place on his arms, and broke the silence. “Guys, I’ve been thinking.” Ordinarily, these words would have brought a teasing round of “Uh-oh! We’re in trouble now!” from his friends, but now no one felt like joking. They turned toward his dark shape and waited for him to continue. “We’ve been traveling in the dark to make ourselves less visible, right? What if they have night scopes?” T. J. groaned. As the unit’s sharpshooter, he felt he should have been the one to think of it. “I never considered that, but you’re right; it’s a definite possibility.” “We need to stay under cover as much as possible,” Luca concluded. “But even that won’t guarantee our safety.” “That’s true,” T. J. agreed. “I’ve hunted with a night scope. It’s fairly easy to see deer moving through the brush, so it would be just as easy for those guys to see us.” He sighed, heavily. “I think we need to find a place to spend the night, and then start out early in the morning. We need to rest, and the dark isn’t going to make us safer.” “We don’t know for sure that they have scopes,” Street mused. “Can we take the risk that they don’t?” T. J. asked. “No,” Street admitted. “Damn it, I wish I hadn’t lost that rifle!” T. J. swore, angrily. He had been particularly sullen since losing the second rifle, and the others understood that he was regarding the incident as a blemish on his abilities. “You couldn’t have known he would kick it with that kind of accuracy,” Luca said, soothingly. “I broke one of the fundamental basics of police work!” T. J. shot back. “Keeping our weapons out of reach of the suspects was one of the first things we were taught at the academy. So what do I do? I stick it right in his face, well within reach. Harrelson will never let me hear the end of that!” “It’s done, T. J.,” Street said, calmly. “No use beating yourself up over it. We’ll get the next one.” “And there’s no reason to mention it to Harrelson,” Luca added. “We’ll just consider it a learning experience that we’ll try never to repeat.” T. J. gazed at his friend with gratitude, but it was too dark for them to see his expression. His voice softened as he replied, “I appreciate that, Dom. I guess I’m beating myself up more than Harrelson ever could.” An owl hooted directly overhead, causing them and the dog to jump involuntarily. Looking up, they saw the shape of the large bird sitting on a tree limb turning its head as if looking for prey. “You know,” Luca said, quietly. “The Indians say that the owl is a messenger from the spirit world. They’re thought to bring omens of death.” “Where did you hear that?” Street asked. “From a girl I used to date. She was part Indian.” “I should’ve known.” “No, I’ve heard that too,” T. J. agreed. “I don’t believe it, of course, but that’s what I heard.” The owl spread its wings and launched itself into the air in search of a meal. The three young men watched as it sailed into the sky, silhouetted against the moon, until it disappeared into the forest. Even though none of them actually believed in the superstition, it was still a sobering thought as they sat there in the dark listening for sounds that were not made by nature. A half hour later, Midge suddenly scrambled to her feet, attracting T. J.’s attention. He could see her light coat through the darkness, and knew that her attention was riveted on something that was approaching from the direction they had just come. She did not bark, having been told so many times to be quiet, but he heard a low growl deep in her throat. Quickly, he gave the “quiet” signal. She nudged his hand urgently with her nose, as if imploring him to heed her alarm, but she obeyed his command. Moving slowly down the slope on the other side of the meadow, they saw the powerful beam of a flashlight moving slowly toward them, its shaft of light directed at the ground, as if looking for tracks. The beam was occasionally obscured by foliage as the bearer moved behind trees and shrubs, but the glow of light was always present. It was too far back in the trees to see the person who carried it, giving it the illusion of being suspended in mid air as it slowly advanced. “Don’t those guys ever sleep?” Luca whispered, even though the predator was too far away to hear him. “They’re desperate,” Street whispered back. “They know they have to catch us before we get to the authorities, or their drug operation will be taken down.” They didn’t dare move a muscle for fear of snapping a twig or somehow alerting him their presence. Even Midge stood rigidly beside T. J., her body frozen like a statue as she watched the man coming toward them. Her nose twitched, testing the air for his scent. The flashlight beam continued to sweep slowly back and forth across the ground, then it came up to scan the surrounding area, moving slowly from side to side, stopping once or twice to scrutinize some object with suspicion before moving on. He emerged from the tree line and entered the meadow, a solitary figure that continued to advance toward them. Again, he raised his flashlight beam, sweeping the area where the three officers had concealed themselves. All three shrank down, even though the beam was too distant to reach them. Suddenly, the sound of a helicopter penetrated the silence, and they turned their eyes skyward, watching as the aircraft glided gracefully above the trees. A spotlight was turned on and directed toward the ground, illuminating a huge swath of ground in blinding brightness. Hope surged in the hearts of the SWAT officers as they squinted toward the brilliant light. The horses must have made it safely back to Bob’s ranch, and he had sent out a rescue squad to search for them! Smiling happily, they shoved playfully at one another and rose to their feet to leave the protection of their thicket. Sensing their suddenly lighthearted attitude, Midge’s tail waved happily. The helicopter hovered above the cleaning, and the spotlight came to rest on the man with the flashlight. “They’ve got him!” Street said, pleased with the swiftness with which the drug dealer had been spotted. Then, to their utter astonishment, the criminal raised his arms, not in surrender, but in a signal to the pilot! “Dammit!” Street swore under his breath as they shrank back into a crouched position. The bright spotlight from the helicopter began sweeping the area, penetrating the dense canopy of the forest, and the officers knew that it was only a matter of time before it reached the thicket in which they were hiding. Street nudged his companions. “The chopper is moving this direction, so I suggest we move that way,” he said, pointing to his left with his finger. He had no idea which direction it was, but as long as they were moving away from the helicopter, it was adequate. The other two did not have to be asked twice. Keeping low, they pushed through the dense foliage at a right angle to the direction being taken by the helicopter in the hopes that it would pass behind them. They remained under the cover of the forest foliage, taking detours to avoid going out into the open of the clearings and meadows. And always, they were alert to sounds and movements around them. So alert, in fact, that when they heard a twig snap nearby, all three dropped simultaneously into a squatted position as their eyes searched the darkness for the source. A dark shadow was lumbering through the dense undergrowth. It was a man, moving slowly and quietly. A thin ray of moonlight briefly brightened his face, revealing a long scraggly beard and long unkept hair. He was apparently aware of the helicopter, for he kept glancing nervously toward the sound of it, and hunkered down as if trying to remain hidden in the foliage as he passed through it. He was carrying something in his hands, but it was too dark to identify what it was. The three officers exchanged glances in the darkness, each one thinking the same thing: that this man was probably not involved with the drug dealers who were chasing them. It was too apparent that he was trying to avoid them. When he moved closer to the area where the three SWAT officers were hiding, he paused, as if detecting a presence that he could not see. His eyes caught a reflection from the moon, as bright and frightened as a startled deer as he turned his head quickly from side to side, trying to determine if someone or something was nearby. Suddenly, Street launched himself toward the stranger and took him down quickly, his hand pressed against the man’s mouth to prevent him from shouting. He felt the harsh exhalation of air against his hand as the man uttered a muffled scream. The object he had been carrying dropped to the ground beside him. “Don’t make a sound,” Street commanded. “We won’t hurt you. We just need to talk to you, but if you try to run, we’ll sick our dog on you. Signal that you understand.” With wildly frightened eyes, the man looked at the English setter that stood beside T. J., and he nodded quickly. Street slowly withdrew his hand from his mouth and rose onto his knees. “Are you one of them?” Street asked. Still lying on his back, the bearded stranger seemed too frightened to speak. He stared up at the man who knelt beside him, then shifted his gaze to the other two who stood over him, looking down at him. “Are you one of them?” Street repeated, more forcefully than before. The bearded man apparently decided it would be prudent to make some sort of response, for he shook his head quickly. “N-no,” he whispered. “Wh-what are you going to do with me?” “That depends on who you are and what you’re doing out here,” T. J. told him. There were several moments of silence as they continued to look at the man on the ground, waiting for him to answer. He seemed reluctant to reveal any information about himself to them, but just as Street was about to speak again, they heard the sounds of the helicopter shifting direction. Street and T. J. kept their eyes on the stranger, but Luca chanced a glance over his shoulder. He could not actually see the helicopter, but he could see the glow from its spotlight through the foliage. It was definitely moving slowly toward them. “We can’t stay here,” the bearded man said, nervously. “If they find us, they’ll kill us.” “You know about them?” “Please, we need to get away from here.” “Is there a place we can talk?” Luca asked, turning his attention back to their captive. “Some place safe?” The man hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with the notion of taking them to the only safe place he knew, but more terrified of staying where they could be found by the drug dealers. “I know a place.” “All right. Lead the way, but don’t even think about running off,” Street warned. “Remember, the dog can run faster than you can, and she’ll take you down on our command before you can get more than a few yards away.” T. J. and Luca exchanged amused glances, both thinking the same thing: Midge was not an attack dog. If they told her to “sick’im!”, she would probably just watch him run away, wagging her tail happily. Their partner was clearly bluffing, and it was obvious that the stranger was buying it completely, for he seemed almost eager to comply. Using both hands, Street grasped the man by the front of his shirt and pulled him to his feet. He was shockingly light. The man hesitated again, keeping a wary eye on them, then he bent down to retrieve the object he had dropped. Without a word, he slowly started walking away with the three SWAT officers and the dog close behind. He led them through the forest for nearly twenty minutes, long enough that the officers were starting to wonder if he was lost as well. Bringing up the rear, Luca glanced over his shoulder again, drawn to the sound of the helicopter. In the area where the foliage became less dense, he could see it in the distance now, a dark shape hovering over the treetops, its bright searchlight sweeping the area below. Instinctively, he knew that there were probably several men inside it, peering at the ground on either side, rifles ready to pick off their prey. “It’s still moving toward us.” Street nudged the bearded man with his hand. “Are you sure you know where you’re going? If we find out that you’ve been leading us on a wild goose chase --–“ “We’re almost there,” the man responded. They reached a creek bank with a tall bluff on the other side, and the bearded man made his way across it, stepping carefully on large sandstone rocks that looked like they had been placed in their position by a human hand as stepping stones for easier crossing. The officers followed, with Midge close behind. When he reached the other side, the man made his way along the foot of the bluff. Wondering where he was going, the other three trailed behind, looking cautiously about for any sign that they might be walking into a trap or that they were being followed. Finally, the man slipped behind a large shrub. At the base of the bluff, protected by the shrub, was a narrow black slit in the rocks. “A cave?” Street asked, bending over to scrutinize the waist-high opening. “Watch your heads,” the man said. “The ceiling is low when you first go in.” Kneeling down, he slipped into the hole and disappeared from view. In the moonlight, Luca, T. J., and Street exchanged glances again. None of them were eager to go into that low, narrow hole in the ground, uncertain of what they would find inside. Behind them, they heard the sounds of the helicopter still searching for them, reminding them that their safest option was to go under ground. With a sigh of resignation, Luca made the uncomfortable decision to go first, and stepped closer to the entrance. “You know, he could be waiting inside with a club to pick us off one by one,” he pointed out. “We’ll be listening for a ‘thud’,” T. J. replied with a hint of a smile. “That way, we’ll know whether or not to follow you.” Casting an acknowledging glance over his shoulder that needed no verbal interpretation, Luca crouched down and slipped into the narrow opening. As the stranger had cautioned, the ceiling was very low, and it, the sides, and the floor were solid rock, but his groping hands discovered that the passage was not circular in shape. It was more of a narrow vertical cleft carved into the rock. The darkness was intimidating, and as he progressed beyond the reach of the moonlight, Luca came to a halt in the pitch blackness, fearful of falling over an unseen ledge or walking into a solid obstacle. “It’s really dark in here!” he called, his voice echoing against the stone walls. “I can’t see anything!” “Just feel your way along,” the stranger advised from up ahead. “There’s nothing to trip on or fall into.” Only mildly reassured, the young officer inched forward, using his foot to test the ground before placing his weight on it as, still in a crouched position, he inched slowly along the dark tunnel. Gradually, it began to expand as he felt his way around a bend in the passage, and soon his eyes detected a very faint suggestion of light. The floor seemed to be a gradual downward slope. The ceiling became higher, enough that he was able to stand up straight without banging his head, and he continued to feel his way along the cold walls of the cave. Finally, he emerged cautiously into an open space, expecting to receive a blow to the head, but it never came, so he paused to observe what he quickly deduced was the stranger’s home. A waist high rock formation formed a barrier, and behind it the cave opened up into a fairly large space. A campfire burned in the center of the room, giving off just enough light to provide adequate visibility, and looking up, he could see the soot which stained the ceiling. Curiously, the room was not particularly smoky, suggesting that there must be a vent somewhere. Barely visible in the low light, an underground stream trickled lazily along the edge of the wall, winding its way out of sight in the darkness beyond, and he suspected that this was probably the stranger’s water source. Rock formations jutted up from the floor, with some protruding downward from the ceiling. Try as he might, Luca could not remember which was a stalactite and which was a stalagmite. Other rock formations formed small recesses and alcoves. Rocks of varying sizes were scattered about the floor of the cave. A moment later, he heard a dog whine, and looked down as Midge came up behind him. Her tail was carried low, almost between her legs, and she was moving with halting steps, clearly uncomfortable with the enclosed space of the cave. T. J. emerged from the tunnel, looking around curiously, and Luca turned toward him. “I think he’s the mystery man who sneaked into our camp last night.” “Probably,” T. J. agreed. Keeping her body low to the ground in a defensive posture, Midge moved about the room, sniffing anxiously at the strange scents. One scent in particular caught the hungry dog’s attention, and they heard her licking at the inside of a can. When she had licked off all the remaining juice, she took it into her teeth and brought it back for her master to see. T. J. held up the empty Vienna sausage can. “I guess that answers our question.” Stooped slightly at the waist, the taller Street emerged from the opening, taking it all in with the same curiously as his partners. The bearded man was squatted down by the fire, adding wood to the flames. Beside him was the object he had been carrying. It was a dead rabbit. Apparently, it was intended to be his evening meal, for when he was satisfied with the blaze in the fire pit, he picked up his knife and began to skin the animal. Street, T. J., and Luca hung back in the shadows at the edge of the darkness, reluctant to join the man at the fire, but all three watched in fascination at his skill with the knife. “Who are you?” Luca asked, curiously, breaking the silence. His voice echoed slightly on the stone walls. When he did not answer, Street asked, “Are you the one who released our horses?” The man nodded, affirmatively. All three officers spoke at the same time, their voices colliding so that it was impossible to determine which words belonged to whom: “Why did you do that?” “Why would you do such a thing?” “We needed them to ride out of here!” “Because of them drug dealers. I figured they’d go after the horses, thinkin’ ya’ll was ridin’ ‘em. Don’t like ‘em hangin’ around too close.” He lifted his eyes from the rabbit, studying them carefully. “You fellas are lucky. Mighty lucky. Them boys are mean to the core. If they brought out the helicopter, they must want you bad.” “You know they’re growing marijuana in that field out there, don’t you?” T. J. asked. The man nodded, his eyes shifting back to his work. “I know about ‘em. But they don’t know about me. I’ve seen just about everything they’ve done.” “Including the murder?” Luca asked. The man fell silent for several moments, his knife poised over the rabbit, and it was clear that he was both uncomfortable and very surprised with the question. Not surprising, since the body had clearly been hidden in the pond. After a moment, he resumed his work. “You boys shouldn’t’ve come here! Now that they’re looking for you, it makes it more dangerous for me. Why are you up here, anyway?” “We just rode in to do some fishing,” Luca told him. “This is private property, by the way. We have permission to be here, but I suspect that you don’t.” “You Feds?” “We’re just here on vacation,” Luca said, deliberately neglecting to mention their occupational status. “Look, it would be easier to talk with you if we had a name that we could call you. My name’s Luca and this is Street. That’s McCabe.” The man’s eyes darted from one to the other again. He clearly did not trust them. “Who’s the dog?” “Her name is Midge. She belongs to me,” T. J. said. “Huntin’ dog?” T. J. nodded. “Used to own a dog myself. Long time ago.” He was silent for several moments as he carefully peeled the rabbit skin away from the flesh. “Ever felt a rabbit’s fur?” he asked. “There ain’t nothin’ quite as soft.” He was quiet for several minutes, apparently debating whether or not he should reveal his identity. Finally, his decision made, he said, “My name’s Willis.” “Are you from around these parts?” Luca asked. “Here and there,” was the vague answer. “So, we’ve told you why were’ up here,” Street said. “Maybe you should tell us what you’re doing up here as well.” “I live here,” Willis replied. “We can see that. But why? Don’t you have a family somewhere? Maybe a job waiting for you back home?” Willis laid the rabbit skin across a large stone, fur down, apparently intending to preserve it. He then began gutting the animal and removing its organs. Midge was watching eagerly, licking her lips hungrily. “Ain’t got no home no more.” “So you live here in the wilderness,” Luca said. “You’re the one who stole our food last night, weren’t you?” “Reckon I over-fished the pond. Kept me going for a long time, but there ain’t no more fish in it, and most of my snares are comin’ up empty now. I got several of’em scattered around that I check every day. Mostly, they’re empty, but sometimes I get lucky, like tonight. Big fat buck-rabbit,” he said proudly. “I’ve had to go farther and farther afield to find food. When I seen you fellas riding’ in here yesterday with that pack horse all loaded down, I decided to follow, thinking I might be able to snatch some food and maybe come o’ your cook pots and pans.” His eyes darted up again, and they detected a hint of amusement there. “Sorry if I scared you last night. If it hadn’t been for your dog, you’d a never know’d I was there until you got up the next morning.” “I’d say the dog gave you a bit of a scare too, the way you lit out of there,” Luca said. A hint of a smile could be seen beneath the beard. “That is a fact,” he admitted. “I ain’t run that fast since . . . we’ll, I can’t remember when. You boys may as well find yourselves a spot and sit. Looks like you’ll be spending the night here.” Luca, Street, and T. J. hesitated briefly, then Luca finally moved forward and selected a spot on the hard ground and sat down, cross-legged, near the fire. The other two joined him, and all three watched as Willis finished cleaning the rabbit and placed it on a long stick which he used as a sprit, and positioned it over the fire, laying it on the forked tops of two upright sticks. “I ain’t accustomed to havin’ company,” Willis said, sliding back away from the fire to rest his back against one of the rock formations. “That’ll take a little while to cook.” “How long have you been up here?” T. J. asked, curiously. “A spell,” Willis answered, evasively. “You saw the murder, didn’t you?” Street prompted. “Ever had rabbit before?” Willis asked, ignoring the question. His discomfort was obvious, leading them to wonder just how much he had witnessed. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just come back with us and tell what you saw – and we know you saw it – than it would be to stay out here struggling to find food?” He gestured toward the man’s emaciated form. “Look at you! You’re half starved!” “I make due.” Willis prodded at the rabbit with his knife. “It ain’t big enough to fill all four of us up, but I reckon it’ll take off the edge.” His eyes fell on the dog. “Reckon she can have the scraps.” Luca sensed that Street was about to make an annoyed comment about Willis’s evasive answers, so he grasped his arm to silence him. Jim directed an irritated glance at him, but he bit back the comment he wanted to make. “So,” Luca said, calmly, understanding that small talk and coaxing would go a lot farther with a reluctant witness than anger and threats. He had used the technique many times on the job when he was working with junkies on the street. “What do you do in the winter?” “The cave provides good shelter. It’s a consistent temperature and keeps the weather out,” Willis replied. “Yes, I’m sure it does, but you have to get out to find food. I know it doesn’t get as cold here as in other parts of the country, but it does get pretty chilly.” “That’s a fact,” Willis agreed. “I made a poncho out of animal pelts that helps keep me warm. I used sinew, like the Indians did, to sew the pelts together. I gather nuts in the fall and store ‘em; use rocks to break ‘em open. Sometimes, I dig up wild onions and garlic, and there’s other roots that are edible. I learned ‘em by trial and error. Some of ‘em made me sick, but others are sufficient. Rather tasteless, though. I get by, and I’m reasonably healthy.” He reached up and wiggled one of his teeth. “Except this problem with my teeth. Some of my teeth are loose, and my gums are bleedin’.” “You’ve probably got scurvy,” Luca told him. Willis looked up, startled. “Ain’t that them little bugs ---” Luca smiled. “No, you’re thinking of scabies. Scurvy is caused by a lack of proper nourishment.” “Oh, good,” Willis said with obvious relief. “I don’t like the idea of bugs crawlin’ around on me.” Luca watched as Willis scratched at his beard, then exchanged an amused glance with T. J., both of them thinking that he was probably chasing some unseen critter around inside all those whiskers. Almost subconsciously, he reached up to scratch his own cheek, feeling the stubble that bristled there. He had not shaved since leaving Bob’s ranch the morning before. Turning his attention back to the matter at hand, Luca said, “You need fresh fruits and vegetables. You’re obviously malnourished. Willis, it isn’t healthy for you to stay out here like this. Wouldn’t it be better to come back with us, and tell the authorities what you know? With your help, they could put those people away for a long time, and they’d help you get settled and get you back on your feet.” Willis got up abruptly. “I ain’t talkin’ about this no more.” Turning, he walked into the darkness beyond the fire’s reach, leaving the three young men alone to wonder what he was doing. He returned a short time later with a hollowed out gourd, which he handed to Street. “You fella’s must be thirsty. The water there is clean and cold. I been drinkin’ there for years and it ain’t harmed yet.” Street looked at the gourd a moment, still reluctant to drink the untreated water, but they were all extremely thirsty, so he finally stood up and went to the stream. T. J. and Luca followed, watching as he dipped the gourd into the water, and took a sip. It was cold and crystal clear, like well water. “It’s good,” he said. After drinking his fill, he passed the gourd to Luca, who drank deeply and then passed it to T. J., who made sure that Midge drank downstream to avoid contaminating it. “How are we going to get him to talk?” T. J. asked, his voice low. “I’ve dealt with people like him in vice,” Luca replied. “When people are scared of retribution, they clam up and won’t budge. We can’t force him to talk until he’s ready. We’ll have to just make small talk with him tonight and try to win his confidence. We can try again in the morning.” When they had quenched their thirst, they joined Willis at the fireside again, and returned the gourd. “Thank you very much,” Street said politely as he sat down near the fire again. “You’re welcome,” Willis responded. The roasting meat was permeating the cave with mouth-watering aromas, and all three of the officers and the dog watched the fat drip from it into the fire below with hissing, sizzling sounds. As Luca had suggested, no one brought up the subject of the crime again that evening, and after they had eaten the rabbit, they stretched out on the hard ground to sleep, determined that tomorrow they would try again to convince Willis to talk to them about the things they knew he had seen. |
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| Seven Bob Carver had lain awake much of the night, his mind plotting and planning a possible business opportunity. He had thought nothing of loaning his livestock to Hondo’s three young subordinates to ride to the pond. He had the horses that were rarely ridden these days, and they had assured him that they all could ride. But now that he had time to think about it, it had presented him with the idea of renting his horses to fishermen, hunters, and weekend campers for the same purpose. There were several large ponds on the property, and all of them should be the habitat of a large number of fish. There were also plenty of game birds and deer on the property. Since selling off the cattle, the horses had been used only for occasional pleasure riding; they may as well earn their keep! Excitedly, he tossed and turned, pondering the pros and cons of going into such a business for himself. He was still young enough to start up a new business, and it would be almost like a hobby rather than a business. There was overhead to consider; insurance, equipment, feeding and carrying for the horses, but he was already doing that anyway. Over fishing of the ponds might be a problem. Care would have to be taken not to deplete the ponds completely. He might have to hire an employee to guide some of the parties in, since most people knew little to nothing about caring for horses, but that should not be too difficult. He had a couple of sons who might be willing to share the profits and their time. The notion simply would not let go of him, and he was still thinking about it when he rose the next morning. “You were restless last night,” his wife Clara said as he shaved in front of the bathroom mirror. “I’m sorry if I disturbed you,” he said, the flutter of excitement still present. “I was thinking about something.” “Some problem?” “Nope. A possible business venture.” As he finished shaving, he explained his idea to her. “I was also thinking . . . Bobby said last week that he’s between jobs. He’s real good with horses and loves to take long rides, so I was thinking maybe he’d be willing to go into business with me. He could pack the fishermen out to the ponds, take groups of boy and girl scouts on trail rides and camping trips, escort hunters in search of game; things like that. What do you think?” Clara shrugged, leaning over the counter to bring her face closer to the mirror as she applied her makeup. “I don’t know if that’s the kind of job he would want. Our son is a restless person. And it’s a seasonal job; there won’t be much activity during the winter. That won’t be a problem for you, since you’re retired anyway, but it might be a problem for the boys.” “That’s true,” he agreed as he dried his face. “Well, there are obviously some kinks to work out. Maybe we could have Halloween and Christmas hay rides or something during the winter.” He replaced the towel on the bar. “Well, I’ve got horses that need to be fed.” Leaving the bathroom to his wife, Bob put on his shoes and made his way through the ranch house to the front door. He loved living in his childhood home. The morning air was fresh and clean, so different from the car exhausts of commuters on their way to work. Instead of car horns and sirens, he listened to the birds singing and the whisper of the breeze in the trees. The sun was up and the temperature was a pleasant seventy degrees. Smiling at the prospect of bringing his son into business with him, Bob stepped off the porch and made his way toward the stable where his remaining two horses were kept. Six horses might not be enough, he thought as he walked across the grassy lawn. Clara had been after him to sell off some of the horses, arguing that they didn’t need that much livestock for just the two of them, but he had kept them for his children and grandchildren to ride whenever they came to visit. Now he was glad he had kept them. Suddenly, he pulled up short, the smile fading from his face. Chief stood beside the stable door, flapping his short sparsely haired tail across his spotted haunches. He was still wearing his saddle and bridle, but the saddle was askew on his back, as if he had been rolling in an attempt to rid himself of it. Turning his head toward his owner, the horse nickered softly through his nostrils, genuinely glad to see the man who would remove the tack from his back. Standing there in bewilderment, Bob’s eyes scanned the area for the other three horses and found them quickly. Prince and Buttercup were grazing in the grassy area beside the stable, and Daisy was standing beside the open window of her favorite stable-mate, Rosie. Her pack harness was still strapped to her back. Spying her owner, she whinnied and plodded toward him. Stroking the mare’s soft muzzle, Bob walked around to her side, examining the pack. The tents were missing, suggesting that the officers had set up camp, but the high lines and some of their provisions were still secured to the harness. Turning, he looked toward Jim Street’s vehicle, which had transported the three officers to the ranch, and found it still parked at the edge of the driveway. Moving past the mare, he walked the rest of the way to the stable and slid the double doors open to look inside, thinking they might have returned early and were inside. It was far more comforting than the alternative. The lights were out, leaving the interior of the stable dusky, but he could easily see the two remaining horses that hung their heads over their stall doors. They turned toward the open door and whinnied a greeting to the man who would feed them. Bob’s stomach clenched with apprehension. Something must have happened. Turning, he nearly bumped into Daisy, who had followed him to the stable door. She nudged at his arm with her muzzle, as if imploring him to remove her tack. Chief crowded close behind her, and Prince and Buttercup were plodding toward him, all eager to be relieved of the tack they had worn all night. Unfortunately for the horses, there was no time at the moment. As fast as he was able, he ran back to the house and picked up the telephone in the living room. With nervous fingers, he quickly dialed Hondo’s phone number. -()- Lieutenant Dan “Hondo” Harrelson had gotten up in a particularly good mood. Today, he was planning to take his family to the zoo, and then hire a babysitter while he took his wife to dinner and a movie. “I’m starving!” he said to his wife as she prepared breakfast in the kitchen. “Go sit down, it’s almost ready,” she instructed as she lifted golden pancakes from the griddle and transferred them to a platter. Hondo reached for a slice of bacon, and managed to secure his prize before Betty swatted her husband’s hand. “Ouch!” he exclaimed with mock indignation as the phone on the wall beside the refrigerator began to ring. “Saved by the bell,” she quipped. “I’ll get it,” he said. He stepped across the kitchen and lifted the handset. “Hello?” “Hondo, I’m glad I caught you,” Bob said, panting slightly. Concern sprang to Hondo’s eyes. “Bob, is something wrong? You sound like you’re out of breath.” “I just ran back from the stable. Hondo, the horses came back without the boys.” Hondo was quiet, his mind turning over the possible reasons why the horses would be back at the stable, and he first stated the obvious one: “They probably broke their tethers or pulled down the picket lines.” “Can’t be,” Carver replied. “The picket line is still on the pack horse’s harness.” “Is their vehicle still there?” Hondo asked. “Maybe they came back early for some reason and decided to leave without waking you.” “The car is still here, and the horses are still tacked up; saddles, bridles, everything. They came back on their own, but even if they didn’t, I can’t believe those boys would leave the horses loose in the yard still wearing their saddles and bridles.” “Maybe they got thrown,” Hondo suggested. “They all said they haven’t ridden in years.” “I suppose it’s possible in theory, but I can’t think of anything that would cause all three of them to get thrown at the same time. All four horses are here.” “That is strange,” Hondo agreed. After another pause, he suggested, “Maybe the horses were spooked by a rattlesnake.” “Nah!” Bob scoffed. “That’s Hollywood nonsense! A horse’ll pull up and shy away when it sees or hears a snake, but it isn’t going to go berserk like they do on TV. I gotta bad feelin’ something’s happened to your boys.” “Yeah, looks that way,” Hondo agreed, quietly. “Think maybe I ought to saddle one of horses and head up that way?” “No. If they’re injured, you’d have no way of getting them back. Sit tight. I’m going to recruit a chopper and get up there, pronto.” “I’ll be waitin’.” -()- Luca awakened with a start, and as his wide-open eyes stared unseeing into the pitch black, he experienced a moment of panic, thinking he had lost his vision during the night. Then the hard ground beneath him and the dank musty odor reminded him that he had slept inside a cave, and he realized that the fire must have gone out at some point during the night. Fumbling with his hand, he found his wrist watch and pressed the button which illuminated the face: 6:30. Soon, they would need to be on their way again in the hopes of reaching Bob’s ranch house before dark. Hearing the movement beside him, T. J. rose up on his elbows, even though he could see nothing. “Dom?” he asked, his voice low to avoid waking anyone who was still sleeping. “Yeah,” Luca answered. “For a moment there I thought I’d gone blind!” Dom grinned at T. J.’s confession, pleased that he wasn’t the only one who had been startled upon waking to find that he couldn’t see anything, but did not admit to the moment of panic he had experienced. “It is easy to get that feeling.” Then he sobered. “Think they’re still looking for us?” “I’d bet on it,” T. J. replied, confidently. “I just hope we get out of here before dark. I’d hate to have to hide from that helicopter again.” “Yeah. I don’t mind telling you, a part of me would rather just stay here in this cave in the hopes that they get tired of looking.” “Somehow, I don’t think that’s going to happen. I’ve been thinking about something, though. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if they already have someone positioned near the house waiting to intercept us.” Luca felt an inner jolt at the thought that someone might be lying in wait for them. “I hadn’t thought of that, but you may be right, assuming that our druggies know where we’re headed. Hell, I’m so turned around, even I don’t even know where we’re headed!” he added. Nearby, they heard a low groan. “Oh, no! The fire went out! I don’t have any more matches.” They heard the sound of clothing rustling together as someone shifted position, and a moment later they heard the sound of a match being brushed against the striker. Street had pulled a book of matches from his pocket, and now held the flame at the end of the small paper stick. The tiny glow barely managed to penetrate the intense darkness inside the cave, placing Street within a small halo of light, but it was just enough for Willis to place some wood and kindling in the fire pit. “Ouch!” Jim exclaimed as the flame burned his fingers. He dropped the match and struck another one. By then, the kindling was ready, and he applied it carefully to the dry twigs until they were well ignited. Jim tossed the matches to Willis. “Here, you may as well keep these. I brought them in case we needed extra ones for our campfire, but under the circumstances, I don’t think we’ll be lighting any fires outside this cave.” Willis caught the book of matches, and gave a quick nod. “Thanks. You fellows are real nice.” Street and T. J. both looked at Luca, a silent reminder that there were issues that needed to be discussed. Since he was the one who insisted on going slowly the night before, they deferred to him to bring up the subject. With a nod of acknowledgement, Luca said, “Yeah, look Willis. We’re going to be heading out of here pretty soon. I think you know that you can trust us not to betray you to those goons out there, but I think you also understand that things have happened up here that must be reported to the law.” Willis immediately became uncomfortable, and he busied himself adding more wood to the fire and stoking it into a strong blaze. “I never let the fire go out,” he said, in an effort to dominate the conversation. “When I need to clean out the firepit, I transfer it to that one over there. That way I’m never without light.” “You maintain a good fire,” Luca agreed, patiently. “You know how to keep it nearly smokeless, and it gives off a lot of light. You’re really good out here in the woods. But in this day and age, no one should have to live like this. You don’t have to live like this.” His voice was kind and friendly, with a trace of sympathy as well, for he understood the man’s reluctance to help them, yet firm enough to express the fact that they expected answers. “Willis, there is a man lying dead out there. He has a family. He has children, and they’ve suffered with worry and fear, wondering what happened to their father. His wife is a widow, and she doesn’t even know it. There are probably benefits that she could claim to help her family financially, but she can’t collect them without a death certificate. She needs to know what happened to him.” Willis’ busy hands slowed, then stopped as he sank back onto the hard ground. He avoided looking at them, but his expression was remorseful. “I didn’t know he had a family, and I feel bad about that, I really do. But if I testify to what I saw, they’ll kill me, I know they will!” Encouraged by the man’s acknowledgement, Street added, “We’re going to do everything we can to prevent that from happening. You just have to trust us.” Willis looked up, his eyes flashing in the light from the fire. “You can’t guarantee that those killers won’t find me. This isn’t a bunch of small-time growers here! They have connections, and they don’t like people interfering with their stuff. That’s what got that ranger killed! He should’ve known not to come out here on his own! He should’ve notified federal marshals instead of investigating on his own! He should’ve known better!” Luca, Street, and T. J. all looked at each other, then T. J. said, “We knew he was a uniformed officer of some kind, but we never suspected that he was a park ranger.” Willis realized he had said too much, and began nervously rearranging the stones around his fire pit. “I done said too much already. I’m not saying anything more.” “You have to!” Street insisted, growing frustrated by the lack of cooperation. He grasped Willis by the front of his shirt and pulled him to his feet. “You know a lot more than you’re saying!” Willis hung his head to the side, refusing to look at him, but his eyes closed in apparent misery. “Easy, Jim,” Luca advised. Reluctantly, Jim released him and watched as he sank back down to the ground. His eyes were averted, avoiding looking at the men who stared at him. Luca squatted down in front of grizzled man. “I know you’re tormented by what you saw. It couldn’t have been an easy thing to see; and we all know you saw what happened. Tell us about it,” he urged, his voice kind. Willis sighed heavily with regret, and was shaking his head back and forth, either in refusal or in resignation, yet he remained silent, reluctant to speak. Luca was watching him carefully, observing the shame on his face and in his slumped posture, and the reality struck him abruptly. “You’re one of them!” he said, accusingly. “You didn’t just witness it; you were in on it!” “What?” Street and T. J. said together. “It’s true, isn’t it?” Luca prodded. “That’s why you didn’t go to the authorities. You were afraid you’d be arrested and prosecuted as well. How could your conscience allow you to do that? How could you just hide up here like this, and allow those criminals to keep selling their poison? Not to mention, getting away with murder!” Willis was shaking his head, helplessly. “No, no – That isn’t the way it was. I wasn’t involved in shooting him! You don’t understand what happened. You don’t understand --" “No, we don’t understand!” Street agreed, explosively. “Because you haven’t told us!” “Jim,” Luca said, quietly. Street backed off again, his frustration vividly demonstrated in his posture and expression, but he respected Luca’s experience in dealing with difficult people. Willis fell quiet for a long time, and the other two men kept glancing at Luca, apparently wondering how long he was going to wait for an answer. The youngest man was patiently prodding at the wood in the fire with a stick, watching the popping and crackling of the dry wood. T. J. found the drinking gourd and went to the stream for water. Midge followed her master, reluctant to let him out of her sight inside the uncomfortably enclosed environment of the cave. When he returned, the men around the fire were still silently waiting. Willis’s posture was slumped, his expression one of humiliation as he struggled with his conscience. Finally, after considerable time had passed, he spoke, his voice quiet, as if fearful that he might be overheard. “What year is it?” “Nineteen seventy six,” T. J. answered. “June.” “Only a year.” He shook his head, slowly as if in disbelief. “It happened almost a year ago. Somehow, it seems a lot longer than that.” When the mysterious squatter fell silent again, Luca set aside his stick, sensing that the man was about ready to talk. “Talk to us, Willis,” he said, gently. “Tell us what happened, so we can help you.” Willis remained silent so long that they thought he was ignoring them, but then finally he began speaking: “It wasn’t supposed to be like that. No one was supposed to get hurt. It was just a way to get back at Carver and make some cash in the process.” Luca cocked his head, curiously. “Bob Carver? What does he have to do with this?" Willis looked up, surprised. “Bob? No, not him. The old man, Wayne.” “Wayne Carver passed away six years ago. His son owns the property now.” Willis was quiet for a moment, digesting the information that the man he hated for the past six years had died shortly after evicting him. “Can’t say I’m sorry to hear that. He was a hardnosed old tyrant. I’m a farmer and for years, I leased a couple hundred acres from the Carvers just south of here. I always kept up my lease, year after year without any problem until we suffered a drought back in ’70, and I couldn’t meet my payments. I explained the situation to him and promised that I would pay it as soon as I could get another job, but he turned me out. With no place else to go, I moved in with my cousin in one of the lower class neighborhoods in L.A. I had to take odd jobs to make a little cash, but nothing paid enough to do more than pay for my keep and buy cheap groceries. I hated it,” he added with vehemence. “I was a fish outta water living in the City, and the noise! There was always sirens and car horns, people fightin’ and yellin’ at each other. I had only intended to live there long enough to get back on my feet again, but for several years, I was livin’ hand to mouth, barely scrapin’ by. Then one day a man came to see me.” The other three leaned forward without realizing that they were doing so, anticipating the revelation of how Willis had gotten involved in the illegal operation. Willis’s eyes glittered in the firelight as his mind traveled back to the day, seeing it as fresh in his mind as if it was just happening. Finally, he continued, “This man told me that he know’d I was outta work and barely getting’ by, and he offered me a proposition I couldn’t refuse. He said they needed someone to help put in a large profitable crop, someone who knew a good place to grow it, and someone to help work the ground and apply the fertilizer. Someone who was willin’ to keep their mouth shut.” He gave a lame shrug. “I knew immediately what the crop was going to be, but I was desperate, and he knew it. I had already lost nearly everything I owned. My girlfriend left me because she knew there was no future in hanging around with a bum like me, so I jumped at the chance to get ahead again, and saw it as the perfect opportunity to quietly get back at old man Carver.” “By secretly using his land to grow an illegal crop,” T. J. said. “Yep. I knew he never went out in that area that borders the wildlife reserve, so that made it a perfect spot. Course, I didn’t’ know he was already dead, by then.” “Didn’t it bother you at all that those people were selling their poison to kids?” Street asked. “It bothered me some. But sometimes, a person’s gotta look out for themselves, you know what I mean? I’d sampled the hard times, the hardest I’d ever thought possible, and I didn’t ever want to go through that again. Those boys promised to pay me real good once the harvest was sold, enough that I’d be able to buy my own house and, and actually put money in the bank! For the first time in years, I would be out of debt! Do you have any idea what that’s like?” Luca shook his head, and replied, honestly, “No, I don’t. But what you were doing was illegal!” “I objected to it too, at first,” Willis admitted. “But they said that everyone smokes a little pot now and then. Ain’t no big deal.” He looked down again, and added, “Least it weren’t supposed to be. The catch was that I had to live on site and wouldn’t get paid until the end of the season, after the harvest. They didn’t want anyone to see the vehicles coming and going and leaving tire tracks in the grass. That was okay, though, because I didn’t have anyplace I needed to be, and they fed me good and gave me a tent to live in. For the first time in a long time, life was pretty good for me. They was real pleased with my work and my knowledge of growing crops, and the plants thrived. Prettiest green plants I ever did see, and I was proud that they were growing because of my experience at farming.” “What about the ranger?” T. J. prompted. “I’m gettin’ to that!” Willis said, shortly. “One day as we were harvesting, we saw a jeep parked nearby with a man standing up in it. He was watching us with binoculars, but when he realized we had seen him, he immediately sat down and started to get out of there.” He stopped here, and an expression passed across his face as if he had bitten into something that tasted bitter. “He didn’t make it out,” Luca prompted. “No, he didn’t make it. Them sharpshooters are always close by to guard against trespassers, and they went after him. We heard the shots and knew they’d taken him down.” He fell silent for a long time, reliving the event as the light from the fire danced in his somber eyes, giving them a haunted look. Finally, he continued, “They brought him back and laid him out on the ground so we could all see him, and they warned us about what would happen to us if we dared tell anyone what we saw. Then they dumped the body in the pond and told us to get back to work. It made me sick to my stomach, literally made me sick, but I knew I couldn’t tell a soul about it if I wanted to keep breathing! They drove his jeep back into the reserve, and left it there. Never did hear if anyone found it. I wondered why he didn’t radio for help when he saw us, but I heard one of them boys laughing about the fact that the battery was down on his radio. Things was just goin’ against him, and he didn’t have the sense to get out of there before getting’ spotted.” He fell silent again, and after allowing him several minutes to sort out his thoughts, Luca prompted, “What happened then?” “I couldn’t sleep that night; not at all. I kept hearing those shots and seeing that poor man lying on the ground, and I finally acknowledged what I knew all along but refused to accept; that these people are dangerous. That they’d kill any of us as soon as look at us. I knew I was in way over my head, but I couldn’t quit. You don’t ‘quit’ jobs like that. They’re like the mob; once you’re in, you’re in for life. They don’t let you just walk out, like a legitimate occupation. And I knew I couldn’t go to the cops. It would have been easier if we’d been allowed to go home each day after work. I would’ve lit out as far and fast as I could. But I was stuck up here with no transportation, surrounded by a bunch of killers.” He paused briefly, as if he had something else he wanted to reveal, but seemed to change his mind. “So you went to work with the others the next morning?” Luca asked. “No. I gathered up most of my belongings and used my knife to cut a slit up the back wall of my tent. They had a guard posted, so I had to be careful, but it was dark and I managed to slip away without being seen. I had found this cave years ago, when I was still leasing Carver’s property, so I just hid out here. I couldn’t head back to town. It’d take days to walk, and I knew they’d be waiting for me when I got there if they didn’t catch me long before that.” He sighed, as if in defeat. “I didn’t have no place to go, anyway.” “Is this part of the property you leased?” Luca asked. “No, but it’s near here. I’d ride over some times and fish his pond and just scout around. Always made me angry that some people have it all, and the rest of us ain’t got nothin’ worthwhile. I never told anyone about that cave,” he mused. “I’m sure glad now that I didn’t.” “Didn’t you think that the farther you got from those growers, the safer you’d be?” T. J. asked. “Of course I did!” Willis retorted. “I thought about it plenty, but I knew they were lookin’ for me. Every time I stepped out of this cave, I imagined them all around me, hiding behind every tree and rock. I knew some survival techniques, and there was plenty of fish in the pond, so I knew I’d be okay for a while, as long as I was careful not to be seen. But the longer I hid, the easier it became to simply stay out here. I’ve been holed up in this cave for nearly a year, venturing out only long enough to find food, mostly in the pond where you boys camped last night. Then I started snaring small game, like rabbits and squirrels, but now they’re becoming scarce as well.” There were several moments of silence again, and Luca brought up the obvious question: “Are they out here year round? I mean, they can’t grow their crops during the winter months, since it gets pretty cold up here. Why didn’t you try to make it out then?” “They don’t grow year round, but the temperatures usually don’t freeze, so they work the field during the winter. You know, tilling the ground, working in the fertilizers. That’s a big plot of earth that they’re using. Takes a long time to cultivate. I was surprised when they planted again this spring, but I guess they figured that by now I didn’t pose any threat to them. They probably figured I wandered off and died of exposure or something.” He cast a fleeting glance at the three men who listened with intense interest. “Now, I told you boys everything you wanted to know to satisfy your curiosity, but I can’t tell the cops about any of this.” Luca exchanged glances with T. J., then revealed the secret they had been keeping from him, “You just did.” Surprise flickered across Willis’s face, then quickly his expression hardened with bitter resentment. “What? You three are cops? You lied to me!” “No, we didn’t lie. We told you that we were just up here to camp and fish for a few days, and that’s the absolute truth,” Luca told him, hastily, trying to smooth his ruffled feathers. “There was really no need to reveal our occupation at that time.” “Withholdin’ that information is the same as lying,” Willis said, accusingly. “It’s entrapment!” “Would you have told us your story if we had revealed who we were?” Luca asked. “You know I wouldn’t have!” “Listen, Willis,” Street stepped in with an air of calm authority. “If you cooperate with the prosecutors, I’m sure you will be granted some form of immunity to testify against the people you were working for.” He raised his hand quickly to cut off Willis’s protest. “And I’m sure we can work out some form of protection for you. We will help you find a good lawyer who will negotiate everything for you.” “The system has never worked for me!” Willis protested. “You have an obligation to tell what had happened!” Luca told him. “Because you remained silent, there are more drugs out there on the streets! And those murderers have never been brought to justice.” “I can’t go back, don’t you see? No matter what kind of deal your people can work, it won’t be enough to protect me from those killers out there! I feel bad for that man’s family, but I won’t do it!” Street glanced at his partners, and realized that they weren’t getting any farther with the frightened man. “It would have been easier with Willis’s testimony, but with all the evidence still out there, I don’t there will be any trouble bringing these dealers to trial,” he said. “We’ll go back and tell the authorities about the body and about the marijuana.” “Yeah, you’re right,” Luca agreed. “They might be able to match up the bullets in the body to the guns that fired them, and that should help get convictions.” He stood up and brushed off his hands against the seat of his jeans. “Well, we have a long walk ahead of us, so I guess we’d better head that way.” The other two men also stood up, and Midge followed their lead, her tail wagging with the realization that they were leaving. But as they moved toward the entrance, Willis suddenly called, “Wait!” The SWAT officers stopped and turned around, curiously. Willis was rummaging around in his gear, and to their astonishment, he withdrew a small handgun and held it toward them on his palm. T. J. exchanged glances with Luca and then Street, and went back to accept the offer of the weapon. He opened the chamber and saw that it contained five bullets. Snapping it shut, he asked, “Where did you get this?” “It was mine in my other life, before I was evicted. I almost pawned it for the cash several times, but kept it around in case I needed it. When we were brought up here, I carried it inside my gear in case those boys I was workin’ for caused me any trouble. I realized as soon as I got here that it wasn’t worth much against all their firepower, though. After I escaped, I used it once to kill a deer, and those boys were there to investigate within a half hour. I didn’t dare use it after that. This here cave’s a bit damp, so like I said, I don’t know if it’ll still work, but you boys are welcomed to take it. Don’t know how much good it’ll do you. Sure ain’t done me much good.” T. J. was grinning. “It just may be what we need to increase our odds.” “Thanks, Willis,” Luca said. “Be thinking about what we talked about, though. We could sure use your help” “I ain’t likely to change my mind,” Willis replied. Feeling a great deal more confident, the three SWAT officers filed out of the cave. |
||
Eight
As they passed through the narrowest part of the cave entrance, T. J. took the lead with Willis’s pistol, feeling a great deal more optimistic now that they had a way of protecting themselves. The weight of it in his hand was enough to inspire confidence, and his right thumb stroked the smooth metal surface as his left hand felt his way along the rough rocky wall toward ---
Thud!
“Ow!” T. J. exclaimed as his head connected with the hard, rocky ceiling. His other hand went to his forehead, and he instantly bent his body forward to avoid additional injury.
Following behind, Luca grinned, “Forget to duck there, Teej?” The possession of the weapon had lifted his spirits considerably, and it was easier to joke and make fun of his friend’s failure to remember the gradual narrowing of the walls and the lowering of the ceiling.
“Thanks for the reminder,” Jim added from the rear with a smile in his voice.
“Don’t mention it,” T. J. replied, rubbing the sore spot furiously with his hand. Midge crowded close against his leg, eager to be out of the narrow dark place, and her shoulder pressed against the back of his leg as she tried to go around him. “Midge, quit pushing,” he told her.
She whined in response, but obeyed.
The small procession started forward again, and finally they began to see the faint glow of daylight from outside the mouth of the cave. They were bent almost double now to avoid banging their heads on the low ceiling.
Spying the opening ahead of her and eager to escape from the dark, scary place, Midge finally succeeding in squeezing past T. J., but his hand shot out lightning fast and caught her by the collar to hold her back. “No, Midge,” he said firmly, pulling her back.
Luca reached forward to take the nervous dog by the collar. “I got her,” he said.
T. J. released the collar to Luca, and Midge squirmed and whined as T. J. inched forward to view the surrounding area before they emerged from the cave, but the dog didn’t understand the need for caution. She just wanted out, and her claws dug into the rocky floor as she attempted to pull forward.
Understanding the dog’s anxiety, Luca squatted down beside her and wrapped his arm around her, and began patting her furry side soothingly with his hand. “Easy there, girl,” he said, quietly. “We’ll be out of here in a minute.”
She seemed to relax slightly, and she lapped once at his face with her soft, moist tongue, then watched with anxious ears as her master moved slowly to the entrance of the cave.
Luca pressed his face against her head, feeling the softness of her fur against his cheek. There was something profoundly comforting about petting and stroking an animal, and his hand continued to move from her head down her neck and back in repeated strokes, thinking it might be nice to have a pet some day. But even as the pleasant thought entered his mind, he was aware of Street standing behind him, and of T. J. in front of him, cautiously checking out the open ground for signs of danger.
T. J. paused just inside the entrance to the cave. The shrub that spread its limbs across the dark opening was sufficient to prevent people on the outside from actually seeing the cave unless they were looking for it, but it was not so heavily foliated that it prevented him from seeing between the limbs and leaves. He could see and hear the gently trickling stream which acted as a shallow moat to protect the opening, and the stepping stones that provided access across it.
Cautiously, he stepped through the opening, gripping the pistol in a firing position as he turned first to the left and then to the right, his eyes darting quickly from point to point, seeking out any sign of danger.
Deeming it safe, he motioned with his hand for the others to join him, so Luca stood up and stepped outside. Midge broke free of his grasp, and splashed into the stream, eager to be as far away from the cave as she could get then stopped and looked back as if wondering why her human friends weren’t joining her.
Street emerged behind Luca, and all three men stood against the bluff, surveying their surroundings, knowing that the pistol T. J. carried was no match for the sub-machine guns and would do them no good at all unless they spotted their pursuers first.
“So, which way?” Luca asked, thinking that one direction was probably as good as another. Eventually, they would have to come across a street, highway or a local residence.
“If yer headed back toward civilization, it’d be that way,” Willis told them from the mouth of the cave. Turning back, they saw that he was pointing to his right. He had followed them out, apparently realizing their uncertainty.
“Maybe you should guide us out of here,” Luca suggested. “We got ourselves lost yesterday.”
Willis grinned. “Don’t doubt that none.”
“We’re not from around these parts,” T. J. told him, his voice a bit defensive at what sounded like ridicule.
Willis glanced nervously at the surrounding forest. “Don’t like to get out much,” he told him. “It’s too dangerous.”
“You got out yesterday,” Street reminded him.
“Had to find food.”
“So you can walk with us for a spell, just long enough to keep us in the right direction, and maybe you can find some food along the trail,” Luca said. “We’ll even help you catch it.” He gestured toward Midge. “We have a hunting dog.”
Willis’s eyes fell on the dog as he considered the proposition, then he nodded his agreement. “Okay. You got yerselves a deal.” Using the stepping stones, he moved to the other side of the stream.
Street, Luca, and T. J. followed. The stones were slick with moss, and all three slipped several times, but all made it across without mishap.
For a long time, they spoke very little, and their eyes were on the trees and shrubs around them, searching for anything that seemed out of the ordinary. Willis was especially nervous, and jumped at every sound, but T. J.’s experience with the weapon seemed to have a soothing effect on him, for he calmed each time the officer brought the pistol into firing position.
The morning passed uneventfully, if not slowly, as Willis was not in good physical condition, but they were at least confident that he was leading them in the right direction.
Luca heard and felt the rumbling protest of his stomach, and brushed his hand across his abdomen as if to sooth it. The small portion of rabbit that Willis had shared with them last night had done little to stifle the burning hunger, and he longed for a full meal. A nice spaghetti dinner or lasagna with Mama’s warm homemade bread sticks and a nice side salad would just hit the spot.
He knew the others were just as hungry as he was, and as he trudged along the rough terrain he quietly observed Willis, who walked in front of him. The man was positively skinny. His arms were thin and boney, and the ragged clothes he wore were too big, even though he knew they had probably fit when he was healthy.
Suddenly, Willis uttered a happy “Ah!” Stopping before a thorny shrub, he began picking the berries that grew thick and plump and shoving them eagerly into his mouth. “Dig in, boys,” he said.
“What are they?” T. J. asked as he scrutinized the berries with critical eyes, unconvinced that eating them was a wise thing to do.
“Blackberries!” Luca exclaimed, recognizing the clusters of juicy berries from his youth. “When I was a kid, Pop would take all of us out to pick blackberries, and Momma would make cobblers and jams, and freeze some for eating later.” He carefully reached between the thorns and picked a couple of them. “I didn’t know they came on this early.”
“Round late June through August,” Willis told him. “I ate lots of them last year, before the birds and bears got them.”
“These are good!” Luca said, approvingly. “Man, does this bring back memories!” Glancing at T. J. and Street, who continued to hang back, he urged, “Come on; eat up! They’re perfectly safe.”
Street and McCabe glanced at each other with uncertainty. “You’re sure about that?” T. J. asked, reluctantly.
“Positive! The worst injuries you’ll get is from the thorns, so be careful,” he added as a thorn snagged the skin on his wrist. “This was one of the few desserts we got because we couldn’t afford the prepackaged stuff for so many of us. So we’d go out and pick wild berries. I’m going to have to get Mama to make a blackberry cobbler when I get back.”
“You from a poor family?” Willis inquired, curiously.
There was a brief pause as Luca considered the question. For most people, it would have been a straightforward question with a straightforward “yes” or “no” answer, but for the Luca family, things were not always so simple. “We never really thought of ourselves as being poor,” he answered, honestly. “Pop didn’t make a lot of money, but we were rich in so many other ways. I have a lot of brothers and sisters –“
“And aunts and uncles and cousins,” T. J. interrupted.
Luca smiled, tolerantly. “Anyway, there were a lot of us to feed and clothe, but we were always well-fed and even if we had patches on our knees, we were always neat and clean.” He filled his cupped hand with berries, then stepped back to give more room for the others.
Hesitantly, T. J. stepped forward and carefully picked one of the berries. He examined it for anything objectionable, then slipped it into his mouth. The worry lines on his forehead smoothed out, and his expression indicated that he was pleased. “There are a lot of seeds, but they’re good.” He reached for another and offered it to his curious dog. She took it in her mouth, then dropped it on the ground and pushed it around with her nose, trying to determine if it was edible.
Encouraged, Street finally joined in, and they spent several minutes eating the juicy berries, until Midge suddenly stiffened, her attention directed back down the trail they had just come up. A low growl rumbled in her throat.
“I think we’ve got company,” T. J. cautioned. “Quiet, Midge.” His eyes looked around quickly, and pointed with the muzzle of the pistol toward a fallen tree and a cluster of laurel. “Get behind that log over there.”
“What are you going to do?” Street asked.
“See about capturing one of those Tommy guns. That will even the odds considerably.”
Street and Luca started toward the log, but Willis had gone rigid with fear. He looked like a rabbit that was uncertain whether to bolt and flee or remain frozen still in hopes that the predator will pass right by without noticing.
Luca came back and grasped his arm. “Willis, we have to hide.”
“They’re gonna find me!” he said, his voice shaking. “They’re gonna find me and kill me! They’re gonna kill all of us!”
“No, they’re not. T. J. has a plan, so come with us, and you’ll be safe.”
Willis finally submitted to the persistent tug on his arm, and he followed Luca and Street behind the log, where they stretched out on their stomachs to wait. Since Luca had taken charge of Willis, Street took Midge’s collar, and forced her down beside him. The center of the log did not make contact with the ground, so they were able to see beneath it, and watched as T. J. moved off the trail and hid behind a tree.
Luca and Street lay quietly hugging the cool ground beneath the California laurel and peered beneath the gap under the fallen oak, watching as the boots of the drug dealer slowly walked past. Midge lay between them, fighting the urge to growl a warning to him; her master had told her to be quiet, so she must obey, but he would never know just how difficult it was for the dog to lay still and see and smell the stranger that she knew meant harm to her friends. Willis lay on Luca’s other side, his eyes huge and his fists clenched in fear as he listened to the sounds of the killer walking through the gravel and leaves.
Luca cast frequent glances at the frightened man, concerned that he would panic and betray their position by trying to get up and run or making some sound to alert the drug dealer. Reaching out, he placed a hand on Willis’s shoulder, drawing his attention. “Shh,” he whispered. “We’re going to be fine. We do this kind of thing for a living, so just be still and stay quiet.”
Willis put his head down on his folded arms, apparently deciding it was better not to watch, and Luca turned his attention back to the narrow gap beneath the log.
A pair of boots entered their line of vision, and stopped beside the blackberry bushes. They were combat boots, and were so close to their line of vision that they could see the laces and eyes that went up the front of them. The man stood there for several moments, and it occurred to Luca that he was examining the berry bush, noticing that the berries had been picked. Realizing that his prey had been there, he turned a slow circle, searching for his evidence that they were nearby. Spying the fallen log, a perfect hiding place, he started toward it.
Luca and Street tensed, watching the boots moving toward them. With his head still buried on his arms, Willis apparently did not notice, and for that Luca was grateful, certain that the man would have panicked and tried to run, an action that would have gotten him and possibly the others shot.
Concealed by his tree, T. J. watched as the killer moved slowly toward the fallen log, exposing his back to the SWAT sharpshooter, and knew that now was the time to act. Stepping from behind the tree, gun in hand, he crept quietly toward the unsuspecting drug dealer and aimed the gun directly at the man’s head. With his thumb, he cocked the trigger.
Hearing the unexpected “click” of a pistol being cocked, the dealer turned around and found himself staring into the small round hole in the muzzle of a pistol. He jumped involuntarily, taking a step backward as his eyes shifted beyond that hole to the face of the man who held it. He instantly knew he was looking at man who was experienced in handling weaponry, but he took a chance and brought the muzzle of his rifle into firing position.
“I wouldn’t,” T. J. warned. He didn’t actually want to pull the trigger. If Willis’s revolver did not fire due to the conditions in which it had been kept for the past year, they would lose any advantage they had over the man, so he decided to bluff. “You may have a more powerful weapon than me, but all it takes is one well placed shot.”
“True enough,” the other man admitted. “Looks like we got ourselves a stand-off,” he said in a raspy voice. “But remember, if you shoot me my finger’s gonna press this trigger and spray you with bullets. And you ain’t gonna survive it.”
“Same here,” T. J. advised. “Shoot me, and I’ll put a bullet between your eyes. And you won’t survive that, either.”
The other man nodded, acknowledging the likelihood of such a scenario. “Probably so.” He and T. J. stared into each other’s eyes, each one waiting for the other to make a move, and it occurred to the dealer that there was no fear in the eyes of the curly haired man who stood before him. “So, what’re we gonna do about it?”
“I’ll tell you what you’re going to do,” T. J. said firmly. “You’re going to lay your weapon down on the ground and back away from it. Otherwise, my friends may just brain you with those rocks they’re holding.”
An expression of uncertainty flickered across the man’s face, and without moving his head his eyes darted quickly from side to side, seeking evidence that T. J. was speaking the truth. He saw nothing, nor could he hear anything to back up the claim. “You’re bluffing.”
“Not a bluff. You already know there’s more than one of us, and you also know that we didn’t split up. If you don’t believe me, look behind you.”
“You really think I’m that dumb? You really think I’m gonna turn my back on you so you can get the drop on me?”
“My friends already have the drop on you.”
“He’s right,” a voice said directly behind him.
The man jumped and started to whirl around, but Luca thumped him on the back of the head with a stone, not hard enough to kill him or even knock him out, but just enough to send him sprawling onto the ground. The rifle dropped onto the ground and was instantly scooped up by T. J., who passed the pistol off to Street.
T. J. stepped away from the fallen drug dealer, who was on his hands and knees, shaking his head as if to clear it. There was no way was he going to make the same mistake twice! His hands expertly handled the familiar tool, bringing it into firing position. Street aimed the pistol at the dazed criminal, while Luca stood nearby with his rock, looking and feeling a bit inadequate amid the firepower on either side of him. Still, it made him feel a little better to know that he and his rock were the ones who had actually neutralized the guy.
“You; sit down and stay put,” T. J. commanded.
Disarmed, injured, and more than a little puzzled that he had unwittingly allowed himself to be so easily taken, he had no choice but to obey, but there was a resentful fire in his eyes as he sat down on the ground.
“Well, that was easy enough,” Street said. “That’s three down.”
“That’s teamwork,” Luca agreed, still brandishing the rock he had used. “Willis, it’s safe to come out now.”
Cautiously, Willis crept from his hiding place and stared in disbelief at the drug dealer, who was rubbing his hand on the knot that was forming on the back of his head. “You got him!” he exclaimed. “I don’t believe it!” He looked at the three policemen, admiringly. “You guys made it look so easy!”
“Like I said, we do this for a living!” Luca said, cheerfully. “We bring in bad guys all the time.”
Their moods were considerably lighter due to the firearm that was equal in power to those of the rest of the drug dealers, but they knew they must deal with the man who now sat on the ground before them, watching and listening to them.
“So,” Luca said. “Want to tell us your name?”
The man spat at him, and again, the youthful officer watched the foamy saliva arch through the air and land at his feet.
“You and that other guy; what’s his name, Crowe? You must have learned your manners from the same person,” Luca said with disgust. “What did you do, grow up in a barnyard?”
The insult seemed to fly past his head, for he was more interested in the mention of his co-worker. “What’ve you done with Crowe?”
“Well, let’s just say that he’s been effectively dealt with,” Street told him, calmly.
“You killed him, didn’t you? Just like you killed Warwick.” For a moment, it looked as if he was considering the idea of rushing at T. J., but was quickly reminded that he was facing the wrong end of his own rifle, and thought better of it. If they had killed Warwick and Crowe, they would not hesitate to kill him.
“We only kill when we have to,” T. J. replied. “Warwick gave us no choice. Unlike you, we’re not murderers. Crowe is probably fine, unless the wild animals got to him last night. Now, you never did tell us your name.”
The man glared at them silently, clearly intent on being uncooperative.
“Say, that there’s Phipps!” Willis exclaimed.
Upon hearing his name, Phipps looked up with no apparent recognition, his eyes focused on the thin bearded man who was staring at him. “Do I know you?”
Willis was stunned. “You don’t know who I am?”
“Should I?”
Willis looked at the officers as if for instruction. “Should I tell him?”
“Up to you,” Street replied. “He can’t harm you now.”
Willis was uncomfortable giving out the information. “Well, I guess it ain’t like he can look me up in the phone book, is it?” To the criminal, he said, “My name’s Virgil Willis. I was one of the cultivators of your ‘crop’ last year.”
Phipps frowned as his mind struggled to remember. “Ah, you’re the little weasel who slipped out in the middle of the night. Hart had some of us waitin’ for you back in town in case you showed up, and when you didn’t, he figured you’d gotten eaten by one of the bears or cougars.” Mockingly, he looked the malnourished man up and down, and with a grin said, “So, you managed to survive out here all this time. Still, it looks like you ain’t doin’ too well. You’re skinnier than a scarecrow.”
“I’m doin’ better than you’re gonna be doin’,” he shot back, surprising himself and the others with his boldness. To the officers, he said, “He’s one of the men who murdered that ranger.”
“You little -- ” Phipps began, but was immediately halted by a warning sound from T. J. and the rifle that he held. “You know how to use that, boy?”
“Yep,” T. J. replied matter-of-factly. “Dom, search him and see if he’s carrying something we can tie him up with.”
“Me?” Luca shot back, startled. “Why me?”
“Because Jim and I have the guns.”
“Only because you passed the pistol to him instead of me.” Resigning himself to the fact that he would have to search the guy, he said, “Okay, but keep him well covered.” To Phipps, he said, “Lie down on your belly.”
Phipps looked at him defiantly.
“Do it,” T. J. warned.
Phipps slowly stretched out on his abdomen, then shot a resentful look at Luca when the young man kicked his feet apart. T. J. moved to a position where Phipps could see the rifle, a constant reminder that he would shoot if necessary.
“Stretch your arms out in front of your head,” Luca told him.
With a glance at T. J. and the rifle, Phipps stretched out his arms and rested his hands on the ground.
Cautiously, Luca began searching the man’s pockets, keeping a wary eye on his hands in case he made a move to try to grab him to use as a shield, but T. J. had apparently made a believer out of him, for he submitted to the search without moving.
A hunting knife was found in a sheath on his belt, and a small pocket knife was removed from a front pocket. A satchel was draped over his body, hanging from the right shoulder so that the pouch rested against his left hip, and Luca grasped it and pulled it off.
“Hey!” Phipps exclaimed, possessively reaching for it to reclaim it, but was stopped by a warning command from T. J.:
“Don’t!”
Staring into the muzzle of the rifle, Phipps froze.
Stepping away from the prone figure of the drug dealer, Luca opened it and his expression changed from intense scrutiny to surprise. “Well, look what we have here.” Carefully, he removed a hand grenade and held it out for everyone to see. “I haven’t seen one of these since ‘Nam. There are four of those things in there, plus extra rounds of ammo and the walkie-talkie. No rope, but we can use the handle on this bag.”
“Okay, do it,” T. J. said. “Phipps, put your back against that tree and wrap your arms around it.”
“You boys ain’t gonna get away with this,” Phipps growled as he sat up and moved against the elm tree that T. J. had indicated. “Booth is still out there, and he won’t let himself be taken down as easily as I was. And Hart still has that helicopter out here lookin’ for you. He’s gonna catch you, sooner or later.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t bet on that,” Luca replied as he detached the cloth handle from the satchel with the help from the hunting knife, then set the bag aside, noticing that the man had moved against a rough-barked elm tree, apparently thinking it would be a good place to rub his tethers. “Not that tree,” he instructed. “The sycamore with the smooth bark. That’ll slow you down if you decide to rub the bark in an attempt to break the tether.”
Glaring furiously, Phipps scooted to the next tree and wrapped his arms around it from behind.
Kneeling behind him, Luca tied the man’s wrists together securely. “That ought to do it,” he said, stepping back. “A word of advice. I wouldn’t pull on them or try to get out of them because it’ll just tighten, and it might get pretty uncomfortable. So just sit here and relax. We’ll send someone back for you later.”
“Now, we have a few more questions for you,” Street said. He stepped forward and squatted down in front of him. “How many of you are there?”
Phipps grinned. “Guess you’ll have to find that out on your own.”
Street gave an unconcerned shrug. “Well, lets apply some powers of deduction here. We saw four of you in our camp yesterday. Warwick is dead, Crowe is sitting against a tree in the same position you are. You mentioned someone named Booth, so he’s obviously the fourth man. And we saw the helicopter last night. I’m guessing that’s all that’s left. Am I right?”
Phipps clenched his teeth, but again made no comment.
“Well,” Luca said, cheerfully. “We should be able to handle that okay. After all, we took down Warwick and Crowe when we were totally unarmed. And we took you down with a rock.” He grinned. “You guys really aren’t very good, you know that?”
Phipps’ face darkened with anger at the insult, but there was nothing he could do to retaliate.
“Well,” Luca continued. “I guess there’s no reason to hang around here.” He passed the hunting knife to Willis. “This probably has a sharper blade than yours, so it’ll be better for skinning game.”
Willis accepted the knife with a grateful expression, but having witnessed the take-down of one of the men he feared and hearing about the capture and killing of the other two had inspired him to think seriously about his life in the woods and the information they wanted from him.
As they started to walk away from Phipps, Willis called, “Hey, boys. Wait a minute."
They stopped and turned to face him.
“I’ve been thinkin’ about what you said. You know, about needing my testimony to put these guys away. I’m tired and I’m hungry and visitin’ with you boys has shown me how lonely I am. And I know my health is failing out here. If’n you boys can promise that I’ll get a fair shake and protection, I’d like to tell what I know. I want these criminals put away.”
Smiling, Luca reached out to give him a friendly slap on the arm. “You’re making the right decision, Willis. I promise, we’ll do everything we can to protect you.”
Street and McCabe were nodding their heads in agreement, both smiling and offering their approval.
“Then let’s do it,” the nervous man said. “I can’t live like this any longer. I want to be part of society again.”
“Lead the way,” Street urged.
Taking the lead again, Willis guided them through the woods toward civilization.
| Nine Standing at his picture window overlooking the lawn, Bob Carver gazed toward the vast expanse of blue sky, watching and listening for the sounds of the helicopter approaching. His wife Clara stood behind him, her face etched with concern. “What could have happened?” she wondered aloud. “I don’t know. There is a lot of rough territory out there, but they’re experienced police officers and one of them is an experienced hunter, familiar with the wilderness. I thought it would be completely safe for them to take a fishing trip to the pond. You know, I could see one or even two horses getting away from them, but I can’t imagine how all four got away. Something happened, that’s for sure.” “They seem like such nice boys,” she said. “I hope they’re okay.” “So do I.” He turned back to the window and saw the faint speck in the sky that he knew was the approaching helicopter. “There he is.” Turning back to his wife, he said, “Honey, I want you to stay inside the house and lock all the doors and windows.” His request puzzled her. “You think there is foul play involved?” He placed his hands on her shoulders and tried not too look as worried as he felt. “Probably not, but I want to make sure you’re safe while I’m gone. Don’t open the door for anyone you don’t know, for any reason. If you see anyone you don’t know lurking around, or if you hear anything that sounds suspicious, call the sheriff and let him know what’s going on.” “I will,” she promised. Her heart had accelerated. “Your policeman’s instincts have kicked in, haven’t they?” she asked. He was quiet a moment before he answered. He did not want to frighten her, but there was a deep sense of dread in his stomach. “I have a bad feeling,” he admitted. “I don’t want to speculate or even assume anything because there isn’t any evidence at this point that something bad has happened, but there’s a lot of land out there with plenty of game, and I’m wondering if poachers may have come onto the property for some out of season hunting. The boys are cops. If they saw something that was against the law, they might have tried to interfere.” They could hear the sound of the helicopter now as it neared the open space on the lawn, and he started toward the door. “We’ll be back as soon as we can.” As he passed the rifle case, he stopped and retrieved the key from his pocket. Inserting it into the lock, he opened the case and removed one of the rifles he kept there, safely locked away from his grandchildren. After locking the case again, he handed the key to his wife. “You know how to use these.” Her face paled. “Bob! You really do suspect someone was involved in this, don’t you?” “I don’t know,” he answered, honestly. “I’m not trying to scare you; I just want to make sure you’re prepared for anything that might happen. It’s just a precaution. Don’t forget; check all the doors and windows to make sure they’re locked.” “I will,” she promised. He opened the door, and with an encouraging smile, he stepped outside and pulled it closed behind her. She immediately locked the deadbolt, and then moved to the window to watch as her husband jogged toward the helicopter that was settling onto the grassy lawn. Her flowers and ornamentals were flattened by the breeze generated from the rotors, but she barely noticed. She could see Dan Harrelson’s face in the window of the rear seat, and he opened the door and slid to the other side to make room for Bob. As soon as he was inside and the door was fastened, the pilot lifted the helicopter into the air, and she watched as it banked toward the wilderness areas of the property. “Any word?” Hondo asked as Bob settled into the seat beside him. He had been hoping that they would wander in on foot, embarrassed at having been thrown from their mounts, but one look at Bob’s face dashed those hopes. “No sign of them.” His eyes dropped to the rifle that Bob had propped against the seat beside him. “I see you brought a rifle. You expecting trouble?” “Let’s just say I have a gut feeling that something is very wrong, and I want to be prepared for anything.” Hondo reached under the seat and withdrew his M-16. “I have the same feeling. How long will it take to reach the camp site?” Bob shrugged. “No idea. I’ve never gone there by helicopter before. It’s a good eight hours by horseback, but by air I would imagine it would be considerable shorter.” They fell silent as the helicopter skimmed above the tree tops, and they each looked out their own window, searching the ground below for any sign of the three young men. -()- The early afternoon sun was warming up the areas of the property that were less densely forested, and Luca felt the sweat trickling down his back between his shoulder blades with a nagging tickle. With the agility of youth, he was able to reach every spot on his back that needed a good scratching, so he was able to reach the spot with little effort and the tickle was quickly relieved. He was tired and hungry and thirsty, and knew that his friends were just as miserable as he was. He was constantly aware that he was the only one of the three police officers who was unarmed, except for the satchel with the grenades. He would have felt better with a rifle or a pistol. Street walked in front of him with Willis’s handgun while T. J. brought up the rear. He did not have to look to imagine how his friend and partner looked; he knew he would be walking several paces behind him, carrying the rifle with the barrel raised in case of accidental discharge, and that he would be fully alert, casting frequent glances over his shoulder to make certain they were not being followed. Every so often, Midge uttered a mournful whine. The dog trotted beside her master, as hot and tired and hungry as her human companions. Dom could hear her panting, and knew that her tongue was probably lolling out the side of her mouth, unable to understand why they had nothing to eat or drink. In the lead, Willis stepped over a long stick as he guided them through the wilderness area. Street also stepped over it, but Luca stooped and picked it up. It was nearly six feet high, and as he walked he trimmed off the side shoots, and carried it like a shepherd’s staff. If nothing else, it would be a suitable club should the need arise. But for the moment, all was quiet. Quiet, that is, except Willis. Buoyed by the capture of Phipps and the news that they drug dealers were not looking for him, he had kept up a steady stream of chatter ever since leaving the blackberry bush behind. “I still cain’t believe you took Phipps down so easily!” he said for what Luca believed must have been the sixth time. “You boys must be good at your jobs.” Street shrugged. “Well, we do our best.” Willis glanced over his shoulder with a wide grin, revealing teeth that were in bad need of cleaning and repair. “Don’t you go gettin’ modest! You boys is good, ‘n you know it! How long’ve you been doin’ this sort of work? Long time, I bet.” “Couple of years,” Street replied. When Willis turned back to the direction they were headed, Street cast a weary glance over his shoulder at Luca and rolled his eyes. “So, how much farther?” he asked. “You’re a long way out in the wilderness,” Willis reminded him. “When you fella’s got yourselves lost, you did a bang-up job of it! Gonna take a while to get back.” “Yes, I know, but how long?” Street prodded. “No idea. I’ve never traveled this way before.” “Then how do you know you’re going the right direction?” Luca asked. Willis pointed to the sky. “You let the sun guide you. Carver’s ranch house is due-west. We’re goin’ the right direction.” Bringing up the rear, T. J. muttered to himself, “I should’ve realized that. Been huntin’ in the woods since I was a kid.” “Did you say something?” Luca asked, but before T. J. could answer, a familiar sound brought them both to a stop, and the two young men looked at one another for several moments, listening intently to make certain the sound was what they thought it was. Apparently unaware of it for the moment, Street and Willis continued to press forward. When he was sure, Luca shouted, “Chopper!” Street and Willis both stopped and turned their eyes skyward, searching for it. “I don’t see --” Street began, then suddenly stopped to listen, detecting the faint sounds of the helicopter. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s moving toward us.” “You boys got good ears,” Willis said. All four men turned their eyes skyward. They were in the trees, but the canopy was not so dense to prevent them from seeing patches of blue sky. For the moment, they were unable to spot the helicopter and knew that it was still beyond their range of vision. Uncertain whether or not the occupants might be able to see them, they began looking for cover, something to get under to conceal them from view. “Over there,” Street suggested, pointing toward a low outcropping of rocks that jutted outward from a low rise of ground. It was low and shallow, but seemed adequate. Luca dropped his staff as they rushed toward it, knowing that it would be in the way. “Better put the dog in first,” Street said. “That white fur will stand out.” T. J. crawled beneath the overhang and attempted to coax Midge inside with him, but after being inside the cave all night, she wasn’t having any part of the close quarters. “Midge, come!” T. J. said, sternly. She turned and shuffled several feet away, whining her distress. Luca wrapped his arms around her furry body and pushed her beneath the overhang, where T. J. took hold of her collar. He then squeezed in beside her, and the two men patted her reassuringly. Street and Willis then crowded in, their bodies pressed close against the rocky ground behind them. It was not a good hiding place, but the overhang shielded them from the air, and that was all that mattered for the moment. For several moments, they listened as the sounds of the helicopter drew nearer. Street was sitting on a sharp pebble, and he shifted his body to reach under him to remove it, but found that it was apparently the tip of a much larger rock that was buried beneath the hard ground. “I don’t suppose you guys can move down a little, could you?” he asked. “I’m sitting on a very sharp rock.” “I’m right up against the side,” T. J. replied. “There’s no more room down here.” “I feel like a sardine in a can,” Luca muttered. “I feel like a shish-kabob, speared right through the rump roast,” Street said. Luca and T. J. began laughing, but Willis was too frightened. “How can you guys make jokes at a time like this?” he asked, incredulously. “Those guys will kill us if they see us, and you’re making jokes about it?” “They’re not going to see us, Willis,” Street assured him, still trying to shift away from the rock. “Damn, I wish they’re hurry up and get past!” The whirring sound of the helicopter was directly overhead now, and the four men fell silent, waiting for it to pass. Peering upward from their hiding place, they watched the silver underbelly as it glided above the treetops and proceeded away from them. They remained hidden until the sounds had faded away. Street immediately pushed himself out of their hiding place, rubbing his hand on the sore spot on his hip. “Looks like they haven’t given up.” “Yeah,” Luca agreed. “At least we don’t have to worry about that spotlight.” T. J. released Midge, who exited the small depression like a cannon. “Still, we’ll have to stay under cover as much as possible, and keep a sharp ear out in case they come back.” Keeping a wary ear to the sky, they resumed their journey toward civilization. -()- “See anything?” Hondo asked as he pressed his face close to the window of the helicopter and viewed the beautiful but rugged terrain below. “Nothing but trees,” Bob Carver answered from the other side. “You’re sure this is the path they would follow if they were trying to get back?” “Positive, but the property is huge with a lot of bluffs and trees that could make it difficult for them to travel in a straight line. And you can see for yourself how dense the trees are in some areas. We could go right overhead and never see them.” “If they’re okay, they would try to attract our attention,” Hondo said with confidence, unaware that they had just flown directly over the men they sought. -()- “There it is,” Carver said some time later as the helicopter reached the open meadow and approached the small body of water. “You can see their supplies just inside the trees over there,” he added, pointing with his forefinger. Hondo pressed his face against the window to observe the campsite. Just inside the sparsely populated tree line, he could see the fire pit and the canvas tents, but there did not seem to be any indication that there were humans nearby. His eyes turned to the pond itself, searching for fishermen standing on the bank, but again there was no sign of life. Noticing the marshy area near the pond, the pilot asked, “Is the ground solid in that meadow?” “Yeah.” The helicopter’s rotor blades generated violent ripples on the surface of the water as it settled onto the flat stretch of land between the pond and the campsite. As soon as the runners touched the ground, Hondo opened the door and he and Bob got out, bent at the waist, even though the blades were well above their heads. While the pilot waited, the two men jogged toward the area in which the three SWAT officers had made camp. They slowed to a cautious walk before they reached it, observing the devastation with apprehension and unconsciously tightening their grips on their weapons. “What the hell happened here?” Carver asked as he walked slowly among the tattered remnants that were once the supplies used by the three campers. “It looks like a war zone!” Harrelson’s blue eyes perused the battered tents and dented cookware, taking everything in with the attention of an experienced leader. With the toe of his shoe, he lifted the edge of one of the tents to inspect the tattered bullet holes in the fabric. “Someone used an awful lot of firepower here,” he commented, his voice quiet. He knelt down and picked up one of the spent shell casings to examine it. Bob’s eyes moved slowly over the area of cropped grass where his horses had been tethered. “You think the boys were here when it happened?” Hondo shook his head. “No idea.” He lifted his eyes, looking around the campsite. “Well, there are no bodies and I’m not seeing any blood on the ground or on any of the equipment, but I suppose it’s possible that whoever did this took them out of here for some reason. Or else they escaped into the woods.” “Or they were shot off their horses as they fled,” Bob said the words that Hondo had been thinking but avoided saying. Hondo grimaced slightly. “Yeah, there is also that. But why? What was the purpose in all this?” “And who?” Bob added. “Who was trespassing on my land, and what were they up to? Are there any prison escapees that could be passing through the area?” “Not that I’ve heard of, but even if there was, it’s unlikely that prison escapees could acquire this kind of firepower. No, this is something else. Some other reason. I suggest we spread out and comb every inch of this area. My men are out here somewhere, and I intend to find them. Just make sure we don’t lose sight of each other.” Still gripping their rifles, ready to defend themselves if necessary, the two men spread out to search the outer perimeters of the campsite. -()- “This looks familiar,” Street said. They had left the cover of trees and were walking through a lush meadow carpeted with green grass and colorful wildflowers. “I think we rode through here on our way to the pond.” He pointed toward a large tree standing in the center of the grassy field. “I remember thinking it odd that that weeping willow tree is standing out there by itself.” “Hey, I think you’re right,” Luca agreed. “I was noticing --” A deafening explosion would have made Luca jump out of his skin had it not lifted him clean off his feet. For several seconds, he experienced the disconcerting sensation of being airborne, along with three other human bodies, and then he landed heavily on the ground amid a shower of grass and dirt. For a split second, he had the alarming impression of being back in Viet Nam, the only other place he had encountered this type of explosion. The flash-back was gone in an instant, and as his mind caught up with the physical assault on his body, he realized that he was lying on his belly, spread eagled in the grass and flowers on a ranch in California. Quickly, he took a mental inventory of his extremities: both arms and both legs still attached and still functioning. No major discomforts anywhere, except the ringing in his ears. Rising up on his elbows, he looked for the others. T. J. was lying on his abdomen a short distance away. As their eyes met, wide and startled, Luca realized that his partner had just experienced the same kind of flashback to the War as he had, and they looked at one another for several moments, silently acknowledging the experience they had heard other war veterans speak of. Midge had been trotting well ahead of them as she tried to flush out quail and was therefore clear of the blast, but the concussion was strong enough to send her sprawling to the ground with a yelp of surprise. Scrambling to her feet again, she looked around as if to orient herself, and saw her master lying on the ground. Badly frightened and with her tail tucked between her legs, she whined in fear as she returned to her owner’s side and snuggled close for comfort. Street had landed on his back a little farther out, and quickly rolled over onto his abdomen, his eyes darting from point to point, seeking out the person who had ambushed them. It was unclear to Luca if Jim had experienced a flashback as well, but the milder officer was typically better at hiding his emotions. “Is everyone all right?” he asked. “Yeah,” T. J. replied, his arm wrapped around his trembling dog. “Just a little shaken. For a second there, I thought . . . “ he began, then broke off without finishing the sentence. “Yeah, me too,” Luca agreed. Realizing that Willis had not checked in, he looked for him and discovered that he had landed in a shallow depression in the ground, possibly an old buffalo wallow from days-gone-by. “Willis, you okay?” he called. “I think my leg’s busted!” he groaned through clenched teeth. He was too far away for any of them to reach without endangering themselves, so he called, “Just stay put. You’re in a fairly protected area, so just lie still. We’ll get to you as soon as we can.” Turning away from the injured man, his eyes scanned the terrain, searching for their attacker. “Does anyone see him?” Street asked. Before anyone could answer, another grenade landed nearby, showering them with dirt again, and they covered their heads with their hands until the shower stopped. Midge leaped away from the blast, but T. J. held her by the collar and kept her down. “Easy, baby, easy,” he said soothingly to the dog. Whimpering painfully, Willis curled his body into a tight ball, trying to make as small a target as possible. “They’re gonna kill us!” Street’s eyes finally came to rest on a clump of shrubs near the tree line. “It came from over there,” he said, pointing toward the shrubs. As Luca’s eyes darted from one clump of brush to another, he finally saw a slight movement and recognized it as human. “There!” he said. T. J., still lying on his belly, swung the rifle into position and opened fire. Empty shell casings popped from the chamber as the bullets ejected rapidly from the muzzle, and Luca saw the figure hunker down for cover. Leaves and twigs were ripped from the shrub’s limbs, but it was impossible to determine if the man, presumably Booth, had been hit. T. J. ceased firing and silence settled over the area. Dust drifted along the gentle breeze, and all the sounds of nature had stopped. Beside her master, Midge’s ears had come up at the sound of the gunfire, and she looked at him, awaiting his order to fetch the game. The order did not come, and this seemed to puzzle her. Her ears twitched first toward her master, then toward the direction he had been firing, still waiting for orders. Remembering the grenades in the satchel, Luca looked frantically for it. He had been carrying it when they had been attacked, but it had somehow vanished from his hands during his flight through the air. He finally spotted it lying in the grass several dozen yards away, too far to try to reach without endangering himself. “Can Midge fetch that satchel?” T. J. followed Luca’s pointing finger and saw the canvas bag that contained the grenades. “Midge, bring it here,” he said, giving her the signal to fetch. Eagerly, the dog bounded through the grass, grasped the object in her mouth, and brought it back, wagging her tail happily. Booth either did not see the dog for the slightly uneven terrain, or he was still seeking a better position. Midge pressed the satchel into her master’s hand, and he patted her vigorously. “Good girl!” He passed the satchel to Luca, who shoved his hand inside and withdrew a grenade. Pulling the pin, he lobbed it as hard as he could toward the clump of shrubs. Because he was lying down and unable to get the force behind the throw that he needed, the impact landed a bit short and the resulting explosion sent a shower of grass, leaves, dirt, and twigs high into the air just in front of the tree line, but their attacker was not among the airborne debris, and there was no immediate sign of him. As the sound of the explosion faded, the three SWAT officers lay quietly on their elbows and scrutinized the clump of shrubs carefully, trying to determine if Booth had been injured in the explosion, or if he was trying to trick them into the open. “I don’t see him,” Street said, quietly. “He’s either hunkered down or he’s searching for a better position,” T. J. told him, his eyes continuously sweeping the area, noticing the stand of trees behind the brush that curved in a half-moon shape toward their left. It was the same stand of trees that they had emerged from a short time ago. “He has a lot more cover than we do. He probably backed up into the trees.” “Yeah, and is probably radioing that helicopter where to find us!” Luca added, drawing the rapt attention of the other two. “Then we’ve got to take him down,” Street concluded. -()- Back at the campsite where Bob and Hondo were still investigating the mysterious activity and the disappearance of the three young men, a sound, distant and muffled, echoed along the hills and valleys, a sound that resembled rolling thunder. Bob and Hondo both looked up in surprise, listening to the rumbling sound. “Thunder?” Bob asked, noting the clear blue sky. “No. That was an explosion,” Hondo said. He turned a slow circle, trying to gauge the direction, but there were so many hills and bluffs for the sound to bounce off of that it was difficult to pinpoint. “Think the boys are involved?” Hondo shook his head silently, listening. A moment later, they heard the second explosion, and he pointed. “There!” By mutual, unspoken consent, both men sprinted toward the helicopter, and a moment later they were airborne again, gliding above the treetops toward the sound of the explosions. -()- “How do you suggest we do that?” Luca asked in response to Streets conclusion. “If we get up and he’s faking us out, he’ll nail us with that Tommy gun of his.” T. J., always on the lookout for the best vantage point, was scanning the area in hopes of finding a suitable spot. Finding none, he said, “I’m going to have to try to get to a point where I can see him.” The other two turned their heads to look at him. “It’s risky,” Street said. “I know, but do you have a better idea?” They were quiet for several moments, thinking. “It might work if Jim and I act as decoys. We can run this way,” Luca said, pointing to his right, “while you go toward the trees on your left. We have the grenades and the pistol. If we can keep him pinned down, maybe he won’t realize that we’re splitting up. We can get him between us that way.” “Just remember there are only five bullets in this gun,” Street reminded them. “That should be more than enough,” Luca said. “If the pistol even works,” Street added. “Well, there is that,” Luca acknowledged the fact that the pistol was untested. “I’ll be hurling grenades at him too, and that should be enough firepower to keep him down while T.J. gets into the trees. All we need is a few seconds.” Reaching into the satchel, he removed the extra ammunition and passed it to T. J. He then removed one of the grenades. “You’re going to have to throw hard,” T. J. said. “We all agree, he’s probably pulled back into the trees, so you have to get it far enough to make him duck so he won’t see me changing position.” Luca nodded in agreement. “Sure wish I had my vest,” he lamented. “If he’s waiting us out, he’s likely to open fire on us the moment we stand up.” “Yeah,” T. J. agreed. “Ready?” Luca and Street both nodded. “Midge, stay,” T. J. commanded. The dog whimpered her objection, but stayed down where he had placed her. Luca jumped up, pulled the pin on one of the grenade, and hurled it as far and as hard as he could. It landed well behind the tattered shrubs, its resulting explosion sending a shower of debris into the air and sifting back down through the trees. It was an excellent shot, sure to have sent Booth to the ground for cover. At the same time, T. J. scrambled to his feet and sprinted toward the cover of the trees, bent at the waist to minimize detection. The same uneven terrain that had protected Midge now helped conceal him from Booth. Street also jumped up, and he and Luca ran to their right. Luca shoved his hand into the satchel for another grenade, while Street took aim at the general area of the clump of shrubs behind which Booth had been hiding and fired off three successive rounds, pausing a few seconds between each shot to space them out. Just as Luca pulled the pin on the second grenade, he saw a muzzle flash just inside the tree line at an eleven o’clock position. Booth had taken cover behind a tree, and as the bullets sprayed the ground behind him, ripping up chunks of sod, Luca hurled the grenade toward the muzzle flashes. This time, mingling with the sound of the explosion, they heard a howl of pain and surprise, and he knew his shot had been effective. With a groan and a loud cracking sound, a large tree limb broke and fell to the ground. “Yes!” he said to himself as he reached into the satchel for the remaining grenade, but if the man was badly injured there was a good chance he would not need it. With their legs pumping furiously, they were nearing the tree line. As they rushed into the cover of the trees, Street and Luca paused to look toward T. J., and saw that their partner had made it safely into the trees. They saw him give a triumphant wave. Street shoved playfully at Luca. “Great shot, Flash.” Luca grinned. “That was pretty good, wasn’t it?” he agreed. Street held up the pistol triumphantly. “It works!” Sobering then, they moved through the cover of trees toward the spot where their attacker had been. | ||
| Ten Keeping their eyes and ears alert to any sound or movement in the brush and pushing aside the low twigs and fronds with their hands, Luca and Street crept quietly through the stand of trees toward the place where Booth had opened fire on them. They knew he was injured; that cry had unmistakably been one of pain, but there was no way of determining if he was only slightly injured, or if he had been totally incapacitated until they had a visual on him, so the tension was high and both men were alert to everything around them. Somewhere, on the other side of the meadow, they knew that T. J. was also moving toward the fallen drug dealer, using the trees and shrubs as protection. With luck, they would have him trapped between them and be able to neutralize him without additional violence. The valley was quiet, as if the birds and squirrels were watching and listening, waiting safely in the treetops to see what would transpire between the humans. Even the whisper of leaves in the trees had fallen silent in anticipation of what was to come. The still air was dripping with humidity, and Luca’s shirt was clinging to his moist skin. With the back of his hand, he wiped a trickle of perspiration from his brow. Glancing toward Street, he saw the older man reach into the pocket of his jeans and remove a handkerchief, which he used to mop his face. Just like Jim, he thought. Always prepared. A low groan brought both men to an abrupt halt. Exchanging a brief glance, they paused for a moment, waiting and listening. When it came again, they pinpointed the direction and, bent forward at the waist, they crept slowly toward it, careful to avoid making any sound that would announce their presence. Finally, they saw him lying on the ground near the large tree limb that had broken off the tree during the explosion. He did not appear to be pinned down by the limb, but it was clear that he was having trouble moving. Each time he attempted to crawl away, apparently hoping to avoid capture, he sank back with a groan of pain and an occasional low curse. His hand was pressed to his side, and Luca decided he probably had either broken ribs or internal injuries, probably caused by the explosion or its concussion. He had managed to recover the Tommy gun or else had somehow managed to hold on to it during the explosion, and he held it in one hand resting against his hip, ready to bring it into firing position. Looking toward the direction where T. J. was approaching, they saw no sign of him yet. Knowing that any noise that startled Booth would likely result in a barrage of fire into the brush, they crouched down behind the foliage to watch and wait for their friend to get into position before making a move. -()- “There’s someone lying in that creek bed just ahead of us,” the pilot said. Seated directly behind him, Hondo’s stomach clenched with sudden apprehension as he looked through the Plexiglas windows in search of the person the pilot had indicated. Below the helicopter, he could see the meandering rut carved into the ground by many years of running water, and the narrow trickle of water that it was now reduced to. “I don’t see him,” he said. “I have a better view than you do. You’ll see him in a moment.” “Can you tell if he’s alive?” “Impossible to tell, but he isn’t moving.” Hondo glanced worriedly at Bob as the pilot banked the aircraft in search for a suitable landing spot. A moment later, the body came into view. It was a man, lying in on his back on the gravel shelf in the stream bed near the water. The SWAT lieutenant pressed his face against the window as they soared overhead, trying to see if he could identify the person. The shock of unkept blondish hair was unfamiliar, and it was immediately clear that he was much too large and muscular to be any of his three missing subordinates. “Do you recognize him?” Bob asked, leaning over his shoulder for a look. Hondo shook his head. “Never seen him before.” The helicopter reduced altitude and settled its running blades on the grassy turf a short distance away. Hondo opened the door, and he and Bob scrambled out and sprinted to the edge of the bank. It was steep, and they were forced to go down stream a short distance to find a slope that was negotiable. That feeling of dread was spreading in his stomach as Hondo approached the body. It was immediately clear that the man was dead; the blank, staring eyes left no doubt, yet he knelt down and placed his fingertips against the carotid artery anyway. Finding no pulse, he sank back on his heels and allowed his eyes to wander down the length of the body. He quickly found the torn trouser leg, and reached for it, turning it so examine it. “Dog bite,” he announced. “That curly haired boy of yours had a dog with him,” Bob said. Hondo nodded. “T. J. He bought himself a new house a while back and a hunting dog.” He looked slowly around the gravel bed, seeking clues to what had happened. It was not difficult to determine that a violent struggle had occurred there. “I don’t see any blood, but the gravel sure has been disturbed,” Bob observed. “Looks like a fight took place here.” Spying a dark object in the water, he stepped to the edge of the stream and reached in to retrieve the rifle. “Hey, look at this!” He lifted it from the water. “Heavens to mergatroid!” he breathed. “That’s a Tommy gun! I ain’t seen of these in years!” Hondo stood up and the two men scrutinized the weapon with critical eyes. “That’s a lot of firepower,” he said, quietly. “People don’t carry a gun like this unless they’re up to no good.” “I’d like to know what the hell he’s doing on my property!” Bob declared with vehemence, and held up the weapon for emphasis. “Especially carrying something like this!” Hondo gestured toward the helicopter with a quick jerk of his head. “Come on; let’s get back in the air.” Returning to the gentler slope, they climbed back out of the stream bed and jogged back to the helicopter. -()- Using the barrel of the rifle to push aside low branches, T. J. crept through the thicket toward the area where Booth was hiding. He had heard the cry of pain from the last grenade Luca had hurled at him, and knew that the wounding of the man could either be a good thing or a bad thing. If he was incapacitated, then he would be an easy capture, but if he was not . . . well, there was nothing more dangerous than a wounded animal, and that is how he had come to think of these men who killed without conscience. The thicket was long and curved, dense in some places, thinned out in others. Mostly, the trees were young and thin, with only a few mature trees in their midst, most likely the parents of the younger ones. Some were mere saplings, their long thin trunks stretching toward the sunlight, competing with their siblings for light and nourishment. Unfortunately, they presented unique obstacles which must be maneuvered to avoid detection, but years of hunting had taught him how to place each step so that he did not rustle leaves or other debris on the ground. Within moments, his trek through the thicket had brought him to the location of the drug dealer, and he paused a moment to observe him and assess the situation for the best resolution. Luca spotted a movement in the brush on the other side of Booth and knew that T. J. was in position. Quickly, he swatted Street against the arm with the back of his hand to draw his attention, making certain there was no sound in the gesture to alert the shooter. Street jumped slightly on reflex at the unexpected signal, and with a disapproving frown he turned his head toward the younger man to see what he wanted. Luca pointed, and looking in the direction indicated, he saw T. J. Apparently, Booth had not yet noticed him, even though he was not fully under cover. In response to Luca, he nodded affirmatively. Both Street and Luca slowly rose to their feet, drawing T. J.’s attention to their movement, and their eyes met across the narrow space of ground. In their haste to reach the shelter of the trees, they had not decided on a course of action once they got there, but T. J. had apparently thought about that already, because he raised his hand with his palm toward them, urging them to remain where they were. He had the weapon in his possession with the highest fire power, so he would handle it. Street hefted the pistol and verified that there were still two bullets in the chamber, then quietly worked his way around Booth, placing himself at a position behind the injured drug dealer. Luca was on the left and T. J. on the right. He was basically surrounded. Unable to see T. J. from his location, however, he could only judge whether or not his partner was ready, so he paused for several moments and then stepped into Booth’s space. With his pistol raised, he commanded, “Lay down your weapon.” Lying on his back, Booth attempted to turn toward him, and tried to bring his rifle into firing position, but it was an awkward posture and the effort put pressure on his injured side. He grunted in pain and frustration, unable to take the proper stance to take aim and fire. While the drug dealer was occupied with Street, T. J. stepped from cover, looking down the sights of the rifle, and approached. “Don’t even think about it,” he advised. Booth whirled toward him and started to bring the rifle into firing position. This would be an easier shot, but he had not forgotten the man behind him with the pistol, and as he was turning, he saw a third man moving toward him. The rifle stopped, only half-raised. “You’re surrounded, and both my friends have a bead on you,” Luca told him. “I’d lower the weapon if I was you.” Booth was breathing heavily from his injury and from the realization that his was a hopeless situation, but he seemed to be contemplating his chances of getting off a successful shot without getting himself killed in the process. The young dark haired man was clearly unarmed, but the curly haired one held a rifle of the make and model as the one he held, and he easily deduced that it had belonged to one of his fallen comrades. “I hope you have more sense than that,” Street said from behind, a reminder that he was still there. With a sigh of defeat, Booth looked at T. J. with the rifle and glanced over his shoulder at Street with the hand gun, and sank back onto the ground, pressing his hand against his injured side. Luca rushed forward and snatched the rifle from Booth’s hand, feeling a great deal more satisfied now that he had something more substantial than a rock in his hands with which to defend himself. The satchel of grenades lay on the ground beside him, and he grasped it by the handle and pulled it out of the criminal’s reach. “That’s four,” he said, happily. Street looked wistfully at the rifle that Luca now held, wishing he had been a bit faster, but now that all four criminals were either dead or in custody, things were definitely looking up. “All right, Booth. Remove your hunting knife and toss it away.” “How did you know my name?” he asked as he withdrew the knife from the sheath and tossed it toward them. “We caught your friend Phipps this morning. How bad are you hurt?” “My side hurts bad. I think my ribs are busted.” “Okay, we’re going to get help for you as soon as we get back to the ranch house.” He glanced at his friends. “I hate to tie him up injured, but we have to make sure he doesn’t get away." This made Booth angry. “I can’t even sit up! How do you expect me to get away?" “We’ve seen some pretty astonishing escapes in our time,” Luca told him. “Trust me; we’re being a lot kinder to you than you would be to us under the same circumstances.” He indicated the handle on the satchel. “I guess we could use this, like we did with --” He broke off suddenly, hearing a sound that his friends had not yet heard, and his expression alarmed the other two. “What is it?” T. J. asked. “Chopper.” Silence fell over the thicket as the other men listened to the sounds of the helicopter that approached. At first it was low and distant, but was clearly gaining on them rapidly, and it was easy to deduce that Booth had summoned them with his walkie-talkie. “We’re under cover,” Street pointed out. “We should see them long before they see us, and that gives us the advantage.” “Yeah, but Willis is a sitting duck out there,” Luca reminded them. “They’ll see him first.” “We’ve got plenty of firepower,” T. J. said, lifting the rifle. “With a well placed shot, I think I can bring it down.” An expression of rage crossed Booth’s face. Clearly, he had been counting on a rescue by his comrades, a rescue that would be effectively thwarted if T. J. managed to disable the helicopter. Luca nodded his agreement. “Let’s do it.” To Street, he said, “Maybe you’d better guard Booth. I don’t think he’s going anywhere, but he’s been trying, and he might just manage to crawl away.” Street started to protest, but his eyes came to rest on the rifles that Luca and T. J. held, and knew that they were better equipped to deal with the helicopter. A simple pistol was enough to keep Booth in line. “All right, but be careful. All three of us have come through this unscathed. I’d like to keep it that way.” “So would we,” Luca agreed. It was only a short distance back to the open meadow, and T. J. and Luca pushed their way through the brush and saplings until they reached the edge of the thicket. The sounds of the helicopter were growing more distinct, and they could see it approaching over the tops of the trees on the other side of the meadow. Although they could not see Willis for the rolling tendencies of the terrain, they knew his approximate location, and it was quickly apparent that the occupants of the chopper had seen him as well, for it was moving directly toward him. As it neared, they saw the side hatch door slide open, and knew that a marksman would be positioned there. T. J. raised the barrel of his rifle and sighted down the long barrel at the underbelly of the helicopter, but before he could squeeze the trigger, he heard the sounds of a second helicopter coming onto the scene and he turned toward it. “Two of them?” Luca asked incredulously. Making a decision quickly, he said, “Okay, you take one, I’ll take the other.” They raised their rifles together, and as they steadied their aim, the rifleman in the first helicopter suddenly became aware of the approaching aircraft, and instantly turned the weapon toward it and fired at shot. The second helicopter instantly swerved to avoid being struck. T. J. and Luca held their fire, astonished by what was happening. “Damn!” Hondo’s pilot swore under his breath. “They’re shooting at us!” As the helicopter lurched sideways, Hondo spied the two men on foot at the edge of the tree line. “That’s Luca and McCabe!” he exclaimed, ending with an “umph!” as he was slammed against the door. “That other chopper will shoot us right out of the sky,” the pilot exclaimed. The evasive maneuver had thrown Bob sideways onto the seat, but quickly righted himself. “It looks like there is only one shooter, so try to stay on the side away from that open door,” he said to the pilot, who instantly lifted the helicopter up and over the hostile aircraft. Unaware that their commanding lieutenant was in the second helicopter, T. J. exclaimed, “I don’t know who they are, but if those guys are shooting at them, then they must be the good guys!” He could see the rifleman in the hostile helicopter looking upward as the second one moved out of range. While his attention was direction elsewhere, T. J. raised his rifle again and took careful aim. He knew he could not hit the fuel tank, for the concussion from the resulting explosion would probably take out the second helicopter as well, so he aimed at the spot where he believed the bullet would damage the engine. Hoping he was right, he squeezed the trigger. Had it not been for the sound of the rotors, he would have heard the resounding metallic “clang” as the bullet struck the fuselage, but the occupants inside heard it and felt the result of it. The aircraft gave an unsettling lurch, and thick black smoke streamed from the exhaust as escaping oil mixed with the heat of the engine. Playfully, Luca shoved T. J. on the arm. “Great shot!” Casually, trying not to look as pleased as he felt, T. J. raised the barrel of the rifle and rested it against his shoulder. “Well, I could only pray that I wasn’t hitting the fuel line or the tank.” The crippled helicopter corkscrewed down to the ground with a spiraling trail of black smoke, and crash landed on a nearby knoll. Following closely, the second helicopter settled gently to the ground nearby. The door opened, and Hondo Harrelson leaped out, followed by Bob Carver. Both were carrying rifles, and they approached the criminals with their weapons in firing position. T. J. and Luca exchanged surprised glances. “Harrelson?” T. J. asked. “What’s he doing here?” The question went unanswered as he and Luca watched Hondo and Carver yank the marksman and the pilot out of the disabled helicopter and slap handcuffs on them. Then they placed them on the ground beside the helicopter where the police pilot could keep an eye on them, and they moved toward Willis. T. J. and Luca immediately jogged in that direction as well, and they met at the old buffalo wallow where the terrified Willis had watched the events unfold. The squatter’s eyes were huge as the two unfamiliar men approached him with their rifles. Although the muzzles were carried low, he knew they were uncertain of who he was and were advancing with caution. Midge, still sitting where T. J. had placed her, offered a tentative wag of her tail, as if asking for permission to go to him. He patted his thigh with his hand, and she jumped up and loped toward him, tail waving happily. “Good girl!” he praised as he patted her furry side. Aware of the injured man but more concerned at the moment with the well-being of his own men, Hondo looked Luca and T. J. up and down, apparently searching for signs of injury. “You boys okay?” “We’re fine.” His eyes lifted, searching for the missing member of the team. “Street?” “He’s standing guard over a captured drug dealer just inside the trees,” Luca told him, hooking his thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of the tree line. “Drug dealer?” Hondo and Bob asked at the same time, then Bob continued, “On my property?” “Actually, I guess technically he’s not one of the dealers,” Luca added, glancing at T. J., who nodded his agreement. “He’s one of the men assigned to guard the drugs, but in the end I guess that’s splitting hairs.” “We saw the body in the creek bed,” Hondo said, solemnly. “You boys do that?” “I had no choice,” T. J. said, regretfully. “He was like a crazed grizzly trying to kill us. There’s another body at the edge of the pond. Not the pond you sent us to, but the other one.” “And the biggest marijuana patch I’ve ever seen,” Luca said. “The other body was a park ranger who stumbled on the patch and paid the price. Willis here is a witness to his murder, and he’d like to testify in exchange for immunity.” “He wasn’t in on the murder,” T. J. added quickly. “He was just one of the planters, trying to make some money after falling on hard times.” “And he’s been a big help to us in getting ----” Overwhelmed with information, Hondo raised his hand to stop them. “Whoa! Slow down a bit! Let’s take this one step at a time. Now, you’re telling me that there is a major drug operation on Bob’s property?” “That’s exactly what we’re saying,” Luca replied. “Apparently some big time growers discovered that much of the property is wilderness and that there are areas that no one ever goes, so they figured they’d be safe setting up their growing operation out there.” “Where exactly is ‘there’?” Bob asked, his face darkening with anger. “There’s a second pond about an hour’s ride from the one you marked on the map,” T. J. explained. “The edge of the marijuana patch can be seen from the pond through a gap in the woods.” “Yeah,” Luca interjected. “It’s sheltered on all sides by wooded areas, and its well away from all commercial routes, both air and ground. If we hadn’t stumbled on it, there’s no telling how long they might have stayed out there.” “What about this other body, the park ranger?” His ice blue eyes darted to the injured man, who was lying on the ground gripping his obviously fractured let. “You say this man is a witness?” “Yes,” Luca replied. “The body is lying partially in the water of the pond. They dumped it there after shooting him. Like we said, Willis was a witness and he’s willing to testify.” “What made you boys decide to go there instead of fishing in the pond I told you about?” Bob asked. “There should be a ton of fish in it.” T. J. and Luca glanced at each other again, both reluctant to inform him that a man had been trespassing on his land since the previous fall. “Well, it’s like this,” Luca began when T. J. remained silent. “After Willis witnessed the murder, he sort of went into hiding to keep them from finding him. He’s been living in a cave all this time, fishing in the pond for food.” “Yeah,” T. J. agreed. “He pretty much emptied it of fish. We didn’t know that at the time, so we rode on over to the other pond we saw on the map. That’s when we found the body.” Bob’s eyes fell on the man, noticing the way he was looking at him through somewhat narrow eyes. “So, you’ve been living on my land all this time?” “Had no choice,” Willis answered, somewhat shortly. Bob’s brow creased in a frown. “I’ve seen you before.” “I used to lease some land from your papa. I was a farmer, and I always kept up my payments until that dry spell some years back. He kicked me out.” Bob scratched his chin, pensively, his brow still knitted in a thoughtful frown. “I remember Pop talking about that incident. I tried to talk him out of evicting you. It certainly wasn’t your fault that the drought destroyed your crops. But he was hard up for cash, and he needed the money from all his renters. The drought hit the ranch hard too, and he had to buy hay and grain from out of state for the livestock. It was a bad time for everyone. He leased it out to someone else.” Willis’s expression seemed to soften just a bit with the realization that the elder Carver had not evicted him out of spite. It did not solve his problem, but at least now he knew the truth. “Well, I guess it’s in the past.” Luca spoke up again, “After getting evicted, he fell into some hard times and was desperate enough to take the job when they offered. All he did was cultivate the crops. We promised we’d do everything we could to help get him immunity for testifying against those guys.” “If this operation is as big as you’ve indicated, I’d say a judge would probably be willing to grant immunity for his testimony,” Hondo said. “Well, I guess we’d better get a team of investigators up here to take a look at that pot crop.” “We’re also going to need to organize a team to help us find the rest of the shooters,” Luca said. “We killed the one in the creek bed, but we captured two more besides the one Street is guarding.” He glanced sheepishly at T. J. “Unfortunately, we’re not exactly sure where we left them.” Hondo lifted an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. “They attacked us on the trail, one by one, and we had to leave them tied to trees, but we’ve been walking so long and in so many directions that I’m sort of turned around. They were carrying these,” he said, holding up the Tommy gun for them to see. Hondo took the rifle and examined it. He gave a low whistle through pursed lips. “These boys meant business.” Willis groaned softly, a reminder that he was in need of medical attention. “Are you boys gonna stand there flappin’ your jaws all day, or are you gonna get me to a doctor?” “Sorry, Willis,” T. J. apologized, quickly, then explained, “We were attacked by grenades, and he broke his leg.” “I’ll radio for a paramedic and the police,” Bob said. Turning, he sprinted toward the helicopter. Hondo observed his young subordinates with respect in his eyes. “Looks like you boys had an eventful camping trip.” “How’d you know to come looking for us?” Luca asked. “Bob called me this morning when his horses came back without you. I scrambled to find a helicopter and get out here to search for you.” “I’m glad the horses made it back okay. We were hoping they would.” “So, you boys took down a major drug operation all by yourselves,” Hondo teased. “Well, not quite, but we did round up all their guards and secured their weapons,” T. J. said, modestly. “And you got the shooter in the helicopter.” “Only after you shot the helicopter out of the sky.” “That was some mighty fancy shootin’ there, boy, takin’ that helicopter down like that” Willis said through clenched teeth. “Ain’t never seen nothin’ like it in all my born days. Oh, and that man in the helicopter? That was Hart, the guy who oversees and trains those sharpshooters. He’s as mean as they come, and he’s in this drug operation all the way. He’s your shooter, boys. He’s the one who took down that park ranger.” |
Afterward
Back in uniform, Luca poured himself a cup of coffee in the basement command center at Olympic Division and pondered the events that had unfolded since the lieutenant and Bob Carver had arrived by helicopter to search for them.
Because they were unfamiliar with the terrain of Bob’s ranch and were unable to describe to the owner exactly where they had left the two criminals tied to trees, it had taken several hours of searching to find them. The wrists of both men were chafed and bleeding from trying to break their tethers, but both the handcuffs used on Crowe and the satchel handle used on Phipps had held, much to the chagrin of the captives. Crowe had shouted and screamed himself into hoarseness trying to alert any of his friends who might be nearby, but those efforts had proved futile, and he was humble and actually happy to see them when they arrived to rescue him.
By the time they returned to the ranch house with the two captives, a police captain was there waiting for them, and informed them that they had fast-tracked a sweep of the marijuana field and rounded up most of the workers. The crop would be harvested as evidence when they went to trial, and then destroyed.
Luca smiled, pleased. One more drug cartel out of business, one less shipment of drugs on the streets. It had been a good day.
Turning his attention to his co-workers, he observed Deke seated at his desk talking on the telephone to his wife. Behind him was Jim Street, catching up on some of the paperwork that had been destroyed in the flood. T. J.’s desk was directly in front of his own, and as he watched, T. J. drained the last of his coffee from his mug, and rose for a refill.
As he lifted the coffee pot from the warmer, T. J. smiled, noticing the way Luca was observing the room. “Looks just the same, doesn’t it?”
“Somehow, I thought maybe they’re redecorate or something,” Luca replied. “Except for the clean floor, it looks almost like nothing had happened.”
Somehow, the room didn’t look all that different than it had before the flood. The most noticeable difference was that the floor tiles had been replaced, and they were scrubbed spotless. The desks had been dried and refinished and returned to their original positions. The new weapons were lined up in the arsenal room, and Hondo’s private office was as it had always been.
“Yeah, no coffee stains and no shoe scuffs,” T. J. said.
“And the stain from that little blob of grape jelly that Street dropped from one of Hilda’s jelly rolls is gone. Well,” he added with an amused smile. “After a few emergency runs and a few visits from Hilda, things will soon look normal again!”
T. J. took a sip of coffee, then looked into Hondo’s office. “So, when will Harrelson be back from the courthouse?”
Luca turned over his wrist to view the face of his watch. “Should be any time now, I’d think. Wish we could have gone with him. After all, we’re the one’s who dealt with those guys.”
“That’s exactly why you couldn’t be there yet,” Hondo said, coming down the steps. “You’ll have your day in court when you testify against those guys.” He looked around the room, his eyes resting a moment longer on Street, who sat at his desk methodically copying his paperwork from the damaged sheets. “I see Street is the only one working.”
Luca and T. J. looked at each other, then turned back to Hondo. “We just stopped to get a refill,” Luca protested, holding up his coffee mug as evidence.
“Uh-huh,” Hondo said in a rather teasing tone, indicating that he was not annoyed with them. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he said, “Okay, gentlemen. “I just got back from the courthouse. Judge Haskell has granted Willis full immunity in exchange for his testimony.”
A chorus of approving exclamations filled the room as Luca, Street, and T. J. voiced their pleasure at the judge’s ruling.
Hondo raised his hand for silence before continuing. “Well, Willis didn’t really do that much that could be considered worthy of prosecution. He was just trying to survive, and made a bad decision which placed him in the middle off that mess. Haskell understands that and recognizes that it is in the best interest of the prosecution to grant the request for immunity.”
“What’ll happen to him now?” Luca asked. “He has no job, no place to live. What’ll become of someone like him?”
“That’s working out also. Bob isn’t going to press charges against Willis for trespassing on his property all these months, and this drug operation has been an eye opener for him about how vulnerable his huge expanse of property is. He’s decided to set up a new business for himself, you see, and he needs some help.”
The three young officers looked at each other, quizzically.
“What kind of help?” Luca asked.
“What kind of business?” Street asked at almost the same time.
“Well, it’ll be sort of a dude ranch where families can book accommodations in the old bunk house, and take trail rides and hay rides, and nature hikes. And after he gets the ponds restocked, there will be fishing.”
“What does all this have to do with Willis?” Luca asked.
“Damn, you’re slow, Dom!” T. J. grinned. “I think he’s saying that Bob has hired Willis as a guide, right?”
“Right,” Hondo said. After all, he does know the property like the back of his hand. And during the off-seasons, Bob will retain him to patrol the property to make sure nothing like this ever happens again.”
“That’s great news,” T. J. said.
“Yes, it is,” Hondo agreed. “And it would also be great news if we could get our paperwork caught up before we leave this evening. Are we all in agreement?”
The three young officers tossed knowing glances at one another as they turned and started back to their desks. Luca suddenly turned back.
“Oh, what about the body of that park ranger?”
Hondo stopped on his way to his private office, and turned to face them again. “Didn’t I tell you?”
“No,” the three officers chorused.
“The identification in the wallet was correct, and his body returned to his family. I think they all knew what the outcome would be if he was ever found, but it never really cushions the blow of finding out the truth, especially something as senseless as this. They told me he was a good man and a good ranger. Everything had gotten so routine that I guess he got a bit careless, and he paid for it with his life. Let’s not let anything like that happen to you boys, okay?”
With a wink, he turned and went into his office, closing the door behind him.
Street, Luca, and T. J. stood quietly for a moment, thinking about the senseless death of the ranger, then all three returned to their desks and picked up their pens to resume their paperwork. Alas, it was not meant to be. The phone on Deke’s desk rang, announcing a hostage situation at a local shopping center. They leaped from their chairs and rushed into the arsenal room to collect their weapons, and rushed up the steps to the waiting SWAT van.
~ finis ~
