Death on the High Lonesome (16 page)

“Great. Thanks, Margie.”

“A wave and a word. That's a good start. Your instincts were right on target.” Virginia made the comment as they stepped onto the sidewalk.

“Well, it's only a part of the puzzle, but it's something. More than we had. Now I've just got to figure out how that piece fits.”

They walked down the street, around the corner to the parking lot outside the office, where they had left their cars.

“That was fun.” They were standing next to Virginia's car. “Like being a detective. I'm sure your boss will be impressed.”

Jimmy's mind was going in another direction. “I was wondering if, maybe you would like to do this again. I mean, maybe you and I could . . .”

She was looking at him in a different way. “You mean like a date?”

Virginia wasn't making it any easier. Jimmy had that drowning feeling again as he looked at her. He felt his tongue start to swell in his throat.

“Well, I just thought . . .”

Virginia reached up, putting her index finger to his lips.

“Relax, Jimmy. We just had a date. I asked you out, now you're asking me. That's the way it works, if the first date is a success. I just said it was fun, so the answer is an unequivocal yes. I would like a second date with you. Of course, maybe you might want to tell your boss when he returns.”

“Why should I tell the sheriff?” he said. “I mean, I don't tell him everything I do.”

“Oh. I thought you knew.”

“Knew? Knew what?”

“It's just, I guess it's still not out there.”

The look on Jimmy's face told her he didn't have a clue.

“Jimmy, the sheriff . . . Virgil is my father. I thought you knew. My real name is Virginia Dalton, not Hayward. I haven't changed it. Legally, I mean, because I only just found out. For that matter so did Virgil. He's my father. I thought you should know. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable.” Jimmy couldn't have stood more rigid if he were carved from stone.

“Virgil is your dad.”

Virginia nodded. “I guess it's a bit of a surprise.”

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I didn't know.”

“I thought maybe he had told you,” she said.

For a long moment they looked at each other. The stillness in the world around them underlined the awkward moment.

“Think about it for a while, then if you still want that second date we can talk.”

She opened her car door, then got in and started the engine. She gave a slight wave. Before she turned onto the street she looked in her rearview mirror. Jimmy hadn't moved. He stood in that same spot awhile after she had gone. At last, he turned, then walked into the office.

Dif was sitting behind one of the desks. He had turned on the television, which was mounted on the opposite wall. He was watching a football game. He hardly looked up at Jimmy when he came through the door.

“Hey,” was all he said.

When Jimmy didn't acknowledge, he turned slightly in his chair to face him. “How did it go? Any problems?”

Jimmy looked at him without comprehension. “Huh,” he said. “What?”

“I said, how did PT go? Any problems? Any questions for me?”

“Oh, it was fine. No problems. I'm finished.”

“Good. Any questions?”

“Questions?” Jimmy said. “Yeah. What does ‘unequivocal' mean?”

T
hey were less than a quarter mile from the next cabin when Virgil pulled Jack to a halt. They had not seen or heard anything since they had found Jupiter's carcass.

“What is it, Virgil? Do you see something?”

They had turned away from the fence bordering the reservation land. Now they were at the bottom of the ridge. Once again they were among the conifers that were interspersed throughout the rugged grassland. It was in a cluster of them that Virgil had stopped.

“What do you see?” Marian said again.

“I don't see anything, but I smell something. Wood burning.” He stood in the stirrups, looked about, then settled back down into the saddle. “Can't see anything. How far do you think the cabin is?”

“It's been a long time, but I smell the wood smoke, too.”

Virgil got down from Jack. He handed the reins to Marian.
“Wait here. Hold the horses.” He slipped his rifle out of the scabbard.

She watched him disappear in a copse of trees up ahead. After a few minutes, her anxiety began to build. She bit her lip, then toyed with the idea of dismounting and tying up the horses to follow Virgil on foot. Every movement of a branch, even the prick of Jack's ears, caused her to tighten her grip on the reins till her knuckles showed white and the nails of her fingers bit into her palms. Finally, when she couldn't stand it a minute longer, she got down off Ringo, still holding the reins of both horses. Then she heard the crack of a branch underfoot. She gasped, slid her own rifle from its nest as she looped the reins around a low-hanging branch. Then she put the rifle to her shoulder, squinted through the sight as she aimed it at the sound. A slight drip of blood oozed from her lip. She held her breath. Then Virgil stepped from behind a tree.

“Oh.” It was all she could say.

“Sorry I was so long, but I think we might have a problem. Are you okay?”

“You were gone so long . . . I thought maybe . . .”

“It's okay, Marian. Take a deep breath. Here, let me have that.”

He took her rifle, slipping it back in the scabbard, doing the same thing with his. Then he came over to her, held her a little awkwardly, then had her sit down.

“I think we might have a problem. That smoke is coming from the cabin.”

“Maybe Dad . . .” She didn't complete the thought.

“I thought of that, too, but I didn't want to chance it. I waited to see if I could spot anyone, but no one came outside. It was too light to chance getting closer, especially with you waiting for me.
Besides, if it is him, he was able to build a fire. That tells us something.”

“But I don't understand. What are you saying?”

“I'm thinking because we don't know who is in there, that maybe we should wait until dark before we go in. If it is your father, no problem. But if it isn't, it just might be the person who put the hole in Jupiter.”

Virgil checked the reins where Marian had tied them. He unsaddled each of them, placing the saddles on the ground. Marian got up from where she had been sitting. She took a currycomb and a brush from her saddlebag, then began grooming Ringo. Virgil spread the saddle blankets out, got some energy bars from his saddlebag along with a thermos. By the time Marian had finished with both horses, he was sitting on one of the blankets, munching on one of the bars. She came over, sat on the other blanket, took the energy bar he offered, and bit into it. They passed the thermos back and forth a couple of times before Marian spoke.

“Damn. Damn, I hate this waiting, not knowing.”

“I understand, but I think this is the smart thing to do.”

After a few minutes, Virgil lay back. He pulled his Stetson down, shading his eyes. Marian got up, walked around for a few minutes, then returned and stretched out on her own blanket. A faint breeze moved the branches overhead in a constant rhythm. Angled sunlight filtered through. She could tell from Virgil's regular breathing that he was dozing off. She had become suddenly anxious. The last couple of days were taking their toll. She had truly expected her father to turn up at the ranch like he had done all her life. The unexpected loss of her mother had hit her hard. The agonizing moment when her father showed up and she had to break the news was all she thought about. Then when
Virgil turned up everything changed. After his narrative, she had to confront the possibility of losing her father, also. Now, when the answer was within reach, she was lying on a blanket under some swaying conifers, and it was killing her.

When Virgil shook her into consciousness, she could not believe she had actually fallen asleep. She felt out of sync, that feeling like everything was just beyond her grasp. Sunlight had gone, long shadows had crawled across the land. Virgil helped her to her feet. She saw that he had already saddled Jack. He took the blanket she had been lying on. After shaking it out a couple of times, he threw it on Ringo's back. When he turned around, Marian was holding the saddle. Within moments, both saddles were cinched up and ready to go. Virgil suggested that they lead the horses rather than ride.

“Won't they call to a strange horse in the corral?”

“I didn't see any horses when I scouted the cabin out earlier. Follow me. Try to make as little noise as possible.”

He untied the reins of both horses, handing Ringo's to Marian. They moved through the trees until they came within sight of the cabin. Faint light showed through the windows. Wood smoke was coming from the chimney. With the loss of sunlight the air had noticeably chilled. Breath from the horses condensed in small puffs, rising on the nighttime air. Marian and Virgil each buttoned up their jackets, then turned their collars up.

“Stay here,” Virgil said. “I'll go in alone. You hear shooting, get out of here. Don't hesitate.”

“No, Virgil. I have a rifle and I know how to use it. We go together. You lead the way, but I'll be right in back of you.”

Virgil could see from the look on Marian's face that it would be useless to argue. They tied both horses up to a corral post. Then, each carrying a carbine, they started for the cabin.

There was only a sliver of a moon showing from a cloud. Virgil was sure a glancing look out of one of the cabin's windows would not reveal their presence. Within a couple of minutes they were hugging the cabin's walls. When Virgil attempted to look in one of the windows, he realized that it was so smoke stained and clouded that all their precautions were unnecessary. They could have walked boldly right up to the cabin. He motioned to Marian to stand to one side as they reached the door. Rifle in hand and remembering how the door from the cabin of the previous night was stuck fast, he drew in a deep breath, then threw his full weight against it. The door flew open as he broke in, his rifle aimed to meet any threat. He could hear Marian right behind him.

A young man who had been placing a log on the fire leaped to his feet. When he saw the rifle in Virgil's hands, he threw his hands over his head.

“¡Lo siento! ¡Lo siento!”
he shouted.

Virgil never took his eyes off him or lowered his rifle. “What's he sorry about?” Virgil said.

“Virgil,” Marian said, pointing to the bed in the corner of the cabin. “Look.”

They had found Charlie Thompson.

H
is name was Ernesto. He was sixteen and terrified. Marian had immediately gone to her father while Virgil tried to get a handle on what had happened. In mixed English and Spanish, the boy told Virgil how he had been up on the ridge when he heard the shots. At first he thought somebody was shooting at him. Then, he said, he heard the death scream of Jupiter on the other side of the rise from where he had taken cover. By the time the shooting had stopped there was no sign of anyone, so he climbed over the rise. He found Charlie Thompson with his horse in the bottom of a steep ravine. He saw that he also had been shot. Blood was streaming from a scalp wound. It was only after he reached his body that he realized Charlie had been shot a second time. Whoever had done it, Ernesto said, had come and gone. More than likely they saw Charlie along with the dead horse, all the blood in the bottom of the gully, thought they were both dead, decided to leave them both for the vultures. Ernesto also thought Charlie was
dead. He had only realized he was still alive when he got up close. He managed to pull him out from under his horse, then carried him to the cabin. He went back then to see if there was anything in Charlie's saddlebags that he could use to help him. Ernesto pointed to the opposite corner of the room from where Charlie lay. The saddlebags along with Jupiter's tack were neatly piled there. He also said he had found a first aid kit, which was what he had used to dress his wounds. Virgil went over to the bed. Marian looked up at him.

“The boy did the best he could, Virgil, but Dad's in a bad way. His pulse is irregular. He's lost a lot of blood. As far as I can tell, the bullet that grazed him didn't probably do more than knock him unconscious. That along with the fall into that gulch. Maybe he's got a concussion.”

“That scalp wound might have saved his life,” Virgil said.

“What do you mean?”

“Scalp wounds bleed profusely. Whoever shot him probably saw all that blood, reckoned he was dead, didn't want to climb down into that ditch. If they had, they would have seen that he was alive. They would have taken the time to finish what they started.”

“The bullet that hit him in the abdomen is the one I'm worried about.”

Marian lifted up Charlie's shirt, exposing the area.

“I didn't find an exit wound. It's still inside. What are we going to do?”

Virgil crouched down. Charlie was ashen.

“I'm going to see if we can get him out of here.” Virgil held up his cell phone.

“There's no cell phone service up here,” Marian said.

“I'm sure you're right, but maybe if I'm up on that ridge I
could send a text. I think it's worth a try.” He stood up. “I'll be back as soon as I can. Keep him warm—see if you can rouse him enough to get some liquid into him.”

“But Virgil, it's dark out. You don't know the terrain. I should go.”

“I'm sure you are a much better nurse than I could ever be. Stay here. Take care of your dad.”

Virgil called Ernesto over, told him to keep feeding the fire, then left the cabin.

He caught Jack up after he put Ringo into the corral. He leaped into the saddle, then immediately headed for the high ground up near the boundary line. It was full-on dark. For the most part he had to pick his way. The moon was skirting in and out of clouds, so he was constantly getting whipped by low-lying branches when its face was hidden. Finally, he reached open ground. When he put his heels into Jack's side, the horse responded with a burst of speed. He didn't slow until they hit the grade leading up to the high line. When Virgil touched him again, Jack gave a snort, then plunged up the grade. Virgil could feel his strength as he dug in without any hesitation. Virgil didn't have the luxury of picking the easiest trail. Sometimes he could barely see. Jack was scrambling up an almost-vertical ascent. Shale and loose rock cascaded down the slide in back of him. Virgil didn't have to urge Jack. He dug in even harder. After a quarter of a mile or so of straight up, he could hear Jack blowing hard. Jack's neck was glistening and soaked with the effort. A couple of times, Virgil could actually feel his front legs buckle as he climbed. Once he felt him go down on his knees, but he dug in even deeper. Virgil knew it was a dangerous situation, but he had no choice. Jack was now grunting with each lurch forward. Virgil knew he couldn't last much longer.
Suddenly, a fresh breeze struck him in the face as Jack cleared the top. Virgil jumped off immediately. Clouds of Jack's expelled breath rose in the night air. Virgil loosened the saddle as quickly as he could. Jack's sides were heaving as he gulped in the night breeze. Virgil stood next to him, then he took out his cell phone. He held his breath as he punched in a text to Billy Three Hats. He had sent the text to him because he knew geographically he was closest. His phone was lit so he knew it held a charge. He was about to try again when to his delight and surprise he got a response. Three texts later, he breathed a sigh of relief. Then he turned to Jack.

“Great effort, son.”

Jack's breathing had become more regular. He raised his head at Virgil's touch. Virgil walked him around the plateau for five minutes to make sure he wasn't lame. He ran his hands up and down his legs, checking for any injury. Miraculously, he found only one significant gash on his right-rear leg just above the hock. He took the piece of terry cloth that he had used to wipe Jack down, then tied it around the cut. Then he started leading Jack down, carefully crisscrossing the hogback, letting him pick his own pace. The trip was five times as long, taking over an hour before they reached the grassland. The three-quarter moon had broken free of the clouds. Virgil was thankful for the light. By the time he reached the cabin, he had been gone almost two hours. When he walked through the door, Marian took one look at his scratched and sweat-stained face, hoping for a positive sign. He leaned against the cabin door, then gave a slight nod.

“I got through. They're sending a chopper.”

Tears of relief rolled down her cheeks. The young boy came away from the fire when Virgil gestured to him.

“We've got to build another fire.
Venga
,” he said.

The two of them, boy and man, left the cabin. Virgil explained that they had to build a signal bonfire near a clearing for the helicopter that would soon be coming for Charlie. They walked only a few hundred feet before they found a likely spot.

“
Rurales
. Border patrol. They come here?”

Virgil could see the fear come into Ernesto's eyes. In an instant he knew history was repeating itself. In Ernesto's eyes, he saw the same look that his father must have seen in Cesar's eyes over fifty years before when he had pulled him from the river. The boy was looking around like he was expecting someone to jump from behind one of the large pines. Virgil reached out to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Easy, boy. Nothing to worry about. They are only coming for the man inside.” He gestured toward the cabin. “No one is coming for you.”

Virgil wasn't sure if Ernesto got everything he said, but the boy seemed to grow calmer. Virgil told him to scout around, gather as much deadfall as he could find, then bring it to the clearing where they had stopped. Within a half hour, they managed to accumulate almost half a cord of wood. Virgil got some dry tinder, then started to build a pyramid of wood on top of it. By the time he finished, the stack was so high, he had to throw the last couple of pieces on top. Then he went into the cabin, returning with a burning brand from the fireplace. He reckoned it had been more than two hours since his communication with Billy, so he decided to light the fire. The tinder caught right away. Within minutes, flames were shooting high into the night sky. Virgil sat down on the ground, the boy alongside him. They waited in the quiet of the night as the warmth of the fire layered over them. Shadows danced against the pines at the perimeter of
the clearing. Virgil thought of the nights he had spent long ago, sitting around a much smaller fire with his father while they spoke of the hunt they were on or the history of the place and the people who had gone before them. They were timeless memories that he planned to hold on to till he died. He looked at the face of the boy sitting next to him, hoping that he had memories that would sustain him throughout his life. They sat in the afterglow a long time. Marian came out of the cabin for a moment to join them.

“Do you think it will be much longer? His breathing seems to be getting shallow.” The words were hardly out of her mouth when Ernesto jumped to his feet.

“Listen,” Virgil said.

A faraway sound that could have been mistaken for a high wind, except for the regular pulsations, grew louder and louder. They were all on their feet now, looking at the night sky. At last over the treetops they saw it, lights flashing, blades turning. It came over the clearing, poised, then started to lower. As it got closer to the ground, air currents buffeted them. Embers from the fire blew out from its center. Virgil and Ernesto ran about, stomping on them. Finally on the ground the rotors stopped, the fire settled, then the door of the helicopter opened. Two EMTs got out. Marian went inside with Ernesto while Virgil went to greet them. He gave them a quick assessment, then they followed him to the cabin with a stretcher. In less than ten minutes Charlie was loaded into the chopper, given oxygen, hooked up to an IV, then prepped for takeoff.

“Virgil, I hate to leave you here.”

“Don't worry. Go with your father. The boy and I will get down to the ranch. I'll catch up with you there. We'll get Ringo home.”

Virgil and Ernesto stood watching as the helicopter rose above the trees, then disappeared from view. They listened till they could no longer hear the whirling blades, then they turned their attention to the fire. They sat for over an hour watching it, till it reached a point where Virgil could push all the wood to the center. At last there was more glow than flame and they finally turned their backs on it to walk to the cabin.

*   *   *

There was nothing but glowing cinders when Virgil stirred the ashes in the fireplace in the morning. He threw in a couple of small logs, just enough to take off the chill that had settled in as the fire died. By the time he and Ernesto had finished breakfast, the sun was well above the horizon. He went outside to check on Jack. Virgil was relieved to see that there was no swelling in his rear leg. The Fura ointment that he had packed on the gash had done its job. Jack was moving freely around the corral with Ringo. He gave each of them the last of the grain that he and Marian had packed. Then he took everything out of the saddlebags while the horses were grazing. Anything he could dispose of he did, anything that wasn't perishable he brought inside to store for the next person who came this way. Then he took Charlie's saddle with the rest of the tack from Jupiter, to load on the two horses. Charlie's saddle he decided he would load on Ringo so that the injured Jack wouldn't have to carry any extra weight. He was about to start the process of loading up when he saw Ernesto watching him.

“We've got to get going. It's going to be a long day.”

“¿Dónde?”
Ernesto asked.

“Down to the ranchero, off this mesa. It will be a long ride.”

“No,” Ernesto said. “No go back.”

Virgil saw the panic in his eyes.

“No
policía
.”

Virgil reached in his shirt pocket. Ernesto's eyes widened when he saw the badge that Virgil held up. He looked around, wild-eyed. Virgil ran to him, fearing he was going to make a break for it.

“Ernesto,
mi amigo, amigo
.
Está bien
.”

For the next few minutes, Virgil talked to Ernesto till the fear left his eyes. Then he saddled both horses, took their hobbles off, and led them to the front of the cabin. He spent some time trying to load Charlie's saddle and gear onto Ringo, but finally came to the conclusion that there was just too much bulk. He hated the idea of leaving it all behind. While he was standing there trying to puzzle it out, Ernesto went to Marian's horse. He took Ringo's saddle off, then replaced it with Charlie's much bigger saddle. Virgil watched as he picked up the smaller saddle, placed it on Charlie's saddle, then used the leathers on the aprons to tie the two saddles together. They looked incongruous, but Virgil realized it could work. Ernesto climbed up into the saddle. He was slight of build, not more than five foot eight. When Virgil climbed onto Jack, because of Ernesto's added height, they were eyeball to eyeball.