by Jay Heavner
They walked for about a half-hour down a trail little more than a trace. Tom observed the path they traveled carefully. Someday, he may return, and Gerald was right. He’d never found his way out on his own, but he was reasonably sure he could find his way back again.
They came around a blind bend, and in the distance, Tom saw his VW. It looked intact, and there were men, trucks, and heavy equipment all busy at work nearby. There’d been no conversation between the men as they walked, and the big cat had also been strangely quiet.
Gerald spoke. “This is as far as me and Kitty go. You don’t need us anymore. Our job’s done.”
“Thank you ever so kindly for your help. I’d still be cold, hungry, lost, and maybe dead if it wasn’t for you.”
“Glad I could help you, young man. Often in life, you’ll find helpers arrive and often from the most unlikely places when you need it. Never forget that.”
Tom turned and gave the old, gnarly man a big hug. “Thanks again. You’re a lifesaver.”
Gerald was embarrassed but did his best to return the embrace. “Well, I guess this is goodbye.”
“Yeah,” said Gerald. “I guess it is. I never was very good at saying goodbye. I have a favor to ask of you. I have a message for my brother Ray. My brother is a great guy. You can depend on him. He runs Ray’s Pub over in Green River. It’s a great place for a brew and a burger. He cuts his own potatoes for French fries, too. Would you tell him, ‘I’m okay where I am, and thanks for all he’s done for me. I miss him, and Dad misses him too.’ Promise you’ll do that for me.”
“I will. I promise. You’ve helped me see the importance of keeping your promise.”
“You better get goin’. You can make it to Green River and have supper at Ray’s. It shouldn’t be too busy this time of year. He gets a bunch of cruisers and tourists in the summertime.”
“I’ll miss you, my friend.”
“And I, you.”
Tom walked off. At a short distance, he turned and said, “I hope to see you again.” Gerald said nothing, but raised his hand and waved goodbye. The big cat sat next to Gerald with his tail wrapped around him. Tom waved back, turned to go, and as he turned, he thought he heard Gerald say, “I don’t think we can.”
Tom didn’t turn back but walked on toward the distant microbus. Gerald watched Tom get ever smaller in the distance. He put his hand on the cat’s big head and scratched behind her ears. She liked it and rubbed her face on his leg. “Well, Kitty, we’ve done what we can. The rest is up to him.”
***
Tom walked up to the busy to-do. An armed man stopped him and took him to another man who questioned him about what business he had being here. Tom told him he’d been at an old cabin in the hills, this was his vehicle, and he was going to Green River. That satisfied the man who seemed to be in charge of this beehive of activity. He told Tom to forget everything he saw. Tom knew that meant the ruined rocket on the back of a flatbed. Workers were covering it up with a large tarp. Tom said he understood, and his lips were sealed. He’d recently left the Army, and he knew the importance of secrecy.
Tom looked at his vehicle covered with dust, but other than that, it was like he had left it. It growled a few times as he cranked the cold engine but finally started. He wove his way through the heavy equipment and trucks. The area ahead was scorched black. It had to be where the rocket crashed and exploded. The vegetation, not burned up, was charred. Tom passed this scene of destruction quickly and traveled up the frozen road. At the hard-topped highway, he saw the Canyonlands sign that had sidetracked him on his adventure.
He looked both ways, turned right back onto Utah Route 24, and saw a sign, “Green River, 40 miles”. Ray’s Pub shouldn’t be hard to find in a small town. Bet Ray will be surprised when he gets the message Gerald gave me.
Chapter 15
The hour drive into Green River went quickly. The road was good except for the last section near the small town. Tom had been in the middle of nowhere and still was, but there was a sign that read, “Interstate 70, scheduled date of completion, 1968. Your tax dollars at work.”
There was next to no traffic on the state highway, and the streets in the town had even less. Why anyone would put a four-lane road here was a mystery to the young man. Wonder what Great White Father in Washington came up with this boondoggle? Someone must have pulled some strings.
Tom rode by some motels and gas stations. One was the Robber’s Roost Motel. The big chain motels hadn’t arrived in the oasis of Green River yet. He stopped at the only traffic light in town on a red and waited. His was the single vehicle he saw moving in the whole community presently. An old whitewashed church with a tall steeple stood proudly on his left, and it had a cemetery next to it. Bet there’re way more people in the town cemetery than living here today. An empty two-story red brick building was at the corner just passed the light, and it had two large colorful signs painted on the street side. One read, Green River Grocery, and the other under it read, Ray’s Pub, Best Grub in Town. A large red arrow separated them and pointing the way to the two stores.
Tom turned his signal on, though there was no one on the street who needed to know of his intentions. The light changed to yellow, then green, and he turned the VW hippie microbus down First Street. He passed Ray’s Pub on the left and continued to the grocery store. It was a nondescript block building with an ice machine out front, but he doubted many people were buying ice. The small store was a surprise. For a place that had to be near the end-of-the-earth, it had a good selection and quantity of goods and groceries, and the check-out staff was friendly. Tom commented to them about his pleasant surprise on the many items of good quality in their story. The cashier laughed and said that this was the only place in miles, and everyone came here or did without.
Tom walked out of the door with his supplies, and a cop stood between him and his van looking at it.
The cop who looked like he was in his 50s asked matter-of-fact-like, “This your van?”
“Yes, it is, officer. Is there a problem?”
“Got any drugs on ya?”
Not again. “No, sir. No drugs. Nothin’. I just got out of the Army, bought this thing from some hippies in San Francisco, got searched in Zion by two park rangers with a dog named Deputy Dawg. The canine found one damned seed the previous owners had left. I thought I was getting busted, but they let me go.”
“Deputy Dawg, you say? That shepherd has the best nose in the west.” He paused for effect. “So, you just got out of the Army? Where did you serve?”
“Vietnam, got shot, the Army discharged me for medical, and I’m now on my way back home to West Virginia.”
“Thanks for serving. I was in WWII.” Then, he said, “You may want to think about getting that van repainted. It draws all kinds of attention you don’t want or need.”
“Yeah, I’ve wanted to do that. Just don’t have the money for anything but a gallon of house paint, and I don’t want to ruin the van.”
“You do what you can. It’ll make your life easier with the men in blue. That paint job is a cop magnet.” The radio in the patrol car went off. Tom could hear the dispatcher calling for the officer. He got out his portable radio at his hip and spoke into it, “This is Harold. What’s up Trudy?”
“Harold, we got a 10-90 at 112 Anderson Street.”
“Roger that. I’m on my way.”
“10-90?” asked Tom.
“Domestic violence. Old man Smith must be drunk again and taking his frustrations out on his old lady. This ain’t gonna be pretty. I told him if he hit her again, somebody was gonna get an ass whippin’. He got it comin’, and it will do more good than locking him up. Got to go, kid. Good luck on your travels.”
“One question before you go. How is the food at Ray’s?”
“It’s great, the best in town, and I’d say that even if he wasn’t my brother. Like I said, I got to go. Someone needs an attitude adjustment,” and with that, he jumped into the patrol car and was gone.
“Okay, I’ll do that.” He found a booth with thick padding and took a seat. She handed him a menu. “No need for that. I know what I want. Give me a big ole burger with lots of onions, pickle relish, and ketchup on it, and a large order of fries. I’ve been Ray’s has the best burgers in town.”
“As small as our town is, that ain’t saying much,” she said, smiling, “but this I guarantee, you won’t be disappointed. No, sir. They’re a treat for your tongue and gullet.”
“That sounds great. And your best lager beer to wash it all down,” he said. “And could I have a word with the owner afterward? Someone asked me to pass a message on to him.”
“I’ll take your order to Ray. He’s in the kitchen. I’ll tell him you want to talk to him, but it won’t be until after you’re done with your meal. I hope that’s okay.”
Tom said it was. She went in the back and spoke to someone. He could hear a male voice answering. She came out, grabbed a beer mug, and filled the clear glass with the golden liquid. The waitress brought it over to Tom and sat it down. “Here you go. The best burger and fries in the Beehive State of Utah will be out shortly. Ray said he could talk after the meal. He’s getting things ready for lunch.”
“Okay, now let me taste that beer.” He took the mug to his lips and sipped. It was good, very good. He nodded his approval and gave a thumbs up to the waitress.
“That’s a great local beer, Green River Lager. We ain’t all tea toting Mormons in Utah. And if you think that was tasty, wait till you bite into the burger and fries,” she said.
She left Tom with his beer, which he happily sipped. He looked around the pub. It had lots of exposed wood timbers, a long bar with stools on one wall, a pool table in the back, and T-shirts pinned to the walls from what must have been every whitewater rafting outfit in the area. Wonder how that got there? Tom stared at one that read, Youghiogheny River Runners, Ohiopyle, Pennsylvania. That was close to home. It reminded him he needed to call his dad and see how he was doing with the Parkinson’s.
She soon reappeared with a tray carrying the biggest burger and a plate of fries Tom had ever seen. He finished off the mug and ordered another. Hungry Tom jumped right into the food. Grease dripped down his face from his satisfied mouth. Oh, I’ve died and gone to heaven. The home cut fries watered in his mouth. Oh, this is good. The waitress brought another mug of beer Tom would need to wash the belly-buster of a meal down. A man appeared behind the bar that he assumed was Ray. The man looked at Tom and asked, “You the guy that wants to see me?” Tom had his mouth full of food, so he smiled and nodded. “I have a few things to do in the back. So, how about I catch you when you’ve finished off the meal?” Tom nodded in agreement. Ray disappeared into the back while Tom ate his meal. A few minutes later, Ray walked to the table and asked the very satisfied and stuffed Tom, “Now, what was it you needed to see me about? Sammy said you had a message for me.”
“First off, let me say the burger and fries were great, and your waitress picked a good beer, too. You’ve got a super place, and if I ever get back this way, I’ll make a point of stopping in.”
“Thanks for the compliment. We may be about the only place in town, but we have always tried to be the best in a hundred miles or better.” He paused, “So, you have a message from my brother. What does he have to say? Did Harold give you a ticket?”
“No, he didn’t give me a ticket though I did just meet him when I drove into town.”
“Oh, then it must have been my brother Darold. He runs the general store and fillin’ station down in Hanksville. I bet you got a bite to eat there and gassed up the tank, too.”
“Well, yeah, I did do that, but I didn’t know he was your brother. The message is from your other brother, Gerald. I met him out in Canyonlands. He said to tell you he’s okay where he is. Thanks for all you’ve done for him, and he and Dad were fine, and they miss you.”
The smile disappeared from Ray’s face. He shifted uneasily in his seat. His elbows came to rest on the table, and he looked sharply into Tom’s eyes. He asked, “What did this man look like?”
Now it was Tom’s turn to be uneasy. “He a… he a… he looked a lot like you, a little shorter and thinner. He was missing some front teeth, and he had a big scar on his cheek.”
“Which cheek?”
“The left one,” Tom said. “And it ran up and down from his eye almost to his chin. And another thing, he had a pet mountain lion, a female, he called Kitty.”
Ray sat back in his chair. “Young man, that sure sounds like my brother, Gerald. That’s what he looked like. And he did have a pet mountain lion, but Gerald’s been dead a year. He’s buried less than a quarter-mile from here in the churchyard you passed on the way.”
Neither man said anything for a moment. Tom was too shocked to speak. Ray continued, “He’d come into town around the first of every month from his shack out by Canyonlands and pick up his military disability check and buy some supplies. I’d drive him back out as far as we could go. Last December, the weather was bad, awful, so when he didn’t show up, we didn’t think much about it. It stayed nasty for about a week and then improved. He still was a no-show. Harold and me went out looking for him. We found his cabin up in the rocks. That big cat was guarding the place. It took her a while to decide we were friendly. I guess she saw the family resemblance, and she finally let us go in. We found Gerald on his mat frozen. The animals would have got to his body if not for that big cat.”
“We brought his body into town, and the coroner did an autopsy. He said there was no sign of foul play, and he likely died in his sleep. The death certificate listed ‘natural causes’ as what done him in. We should all be so lucky to die in our sleep.”
At last, Tom found his voice. “Mister, I know this sounds strange and beyond belief, but if not for your brother, I’d probably died out there in that rocky place. I didn’t come in here seeking to cause trouble, only to deliver his message.”
Ray was silent now. He sighed deeply and spoke, “The man you described sure sounds like my brother. He was always helping people that got lost out there in that maze of rocks. It looks like his spirit still is.”
“Hey Sammy, do you think you can run this place without me today? “
“I can. I’ll manage without you. You know it’s been really slow.”
“Good. I’ve got some things I want to show this young man.” Then he looked at Tom and said, “I think we need to pay our respects at the graveyard and then go out to his old cabin in Canyonlands. I think we should. How about you, young man?”
“I think you are right. You’re not the only one with unanswered questions.”
***
The grave was just as Ray said it was at the churchyard. A small wooden cross with the name Gerald Arnone and the date of death were carved on it. They rode in silence the hour out to Canyonlands. Tom led the way up to the old cabin. It looked like no one had been there for a year, but they noted fresh mountain lion tracks in the sandy-mud mix nearby. They found the old outhouse with the best view in America, and someone had used it recently. Neither said much on the hike out or the ride back to Green River. It was getting dark when they got back to Ray’s Pub.
Sammy fixed up two hot steak sandwiches, onion rings, and beers for the men. They said little as they ate. Each was deep in his thoughts. They finished their meals at about the same time. Ray smiled and
spoke, “Looks like we have a real mystery here. I still don’t know what to make of your story, but I don’t take you to be a malicious type of person. When you work with the public, you learn quick to size up a person, and I’ve had a lot of practice.”
Tom said, “I assure you, I meant no harm. I’m kinda confused about this whole matter myself, and I owe you for two great meals. We were in such a big hurry when we left; I didn’t pay. What do I owe you?”
“What do you own me? Nothing. You had me thinking about the good old times us four boys had growin’ up together, and that was worth far more than two meals.”
Tom got up. “I want to thank you, too for what you’ve done.” He walked toward the front door.
“Hey, young man,” he heard Ray say. “What’s your name?”
Tom grimaced. He’d been with this man all day and not told him his name. “Why it’s Tom, Tom Kenney.”
“I have a favor to ask you, Mister Kenney.”
“Sure, whatever you want.”
“If you ever see my brother again, tell him we miss him and Dad deeply, and we’re doin’ okay, too.”
Tom said he would and left the building. He stopped at the Green River KOA Kampgound for the night. The muddy waters of the fast-flowing stream going over some large rocks would lull him to sleep that night. What had happened today, and what did it mean? He didn’t know, but tomorrow he knew he’d head for the Navajo Nation where Chris Benally’s father lived. What surprises were in store for him there? He would have to play this hand out and see.
Chapter 16
Tom woke at sunrise. The morning in the high desert was cold but clear, and the night wind that buffeted the microbus and rocked him to sleep had subsided. He made a quick trip to the warm bathhouse at the RV park. Tom fixed a quick breakfast with the supplies he had purchased the day before and was soon underway east on the highway toward Moab. As he drove, he thought of the events of yesterday. He was still unsure of what to make of the happenings. Given time, he hoped he would make some sense of it all.