Siege at Hawthorn Lake: Murder on the Mountain

by Paul G Buckner

  Phil looked at the buck’s eyes and could see them wide open and glassed over. He knew the animal was down and it was a quick and clean kill. He excitedly checked the buck’s rack and counted twelve points. The animal was massive and should provide a hundred and fifty pounds of meat or more. He did not hunt for the sheer sport of it. Fact is he hunted venison as a main source of meat for the entire year. It wasn’t simply about a trophy on the wall for him, though it was certainly nice to have taken such a beautiful animal.

  He removed his warm hunting gloves and set his pack on top of a large boulder with a flat top overhang on it. The rock was huge and rested just above a slope where a game trail wound around it and down towards an arroyo in the ridgeline. Next, he opened one of the pouches on the pack and took out his field dressing kit and a pair of latex gloves. He used them to keep as much blood off of his clothes as possible. As he bent down over the huge animal he was surprised to hear a massive crashing noise behind him. He quickly spun around to see what it was. Suddenly, everything went dark and he slumped to the ground.

  +++

  Troy realized that it had been over an hour and still had not heard from either of his buddies on the radio.

  “Hey, Phil, have you fallen asleep or did you just plain miss?” he asked with a chuckle.

  After a short moment he called again. “Phil? Do you copy? How about you Craig?”

  “Yeah, I can hear ya,” Craig responded. “I heard something earlier in the brush, but couldn’t make out what it might have been. Thought he would’ve called by now though.”

  “Me too! Guess I lost track of time. He’s probably tracked that buck all the way out of range.”

  “That’s my guess,” Craig said.

  “OK,” Troy said, “I’m climbing down and heading your way. We better go give him a hand before this snow really starts piling up.” He began stowing his rifle and lowering it to the ground. Once his pack was lowered he keyed the mic once again.

  “I don’t think it’s supposed to get too bad, but it could still cover up our tracks. If you aren’t too familiar with the area, it may be pretty easy to get turned around.”

  Craig replied, “Alright, buddy, I’ll climb on down and be waiting for ya.”

  Chapter 7

  Craig had just reached the ground when he heard the Razor coming down the trail. He left his stand hanging on the base of the tree and made his way out to meet Troy. He had called on the radio a few more times for Phil, but never received a reply. He was certain that the radios were just out of range or the weather was keeping them from transmitting very well. The terrain also would play a factor in the distance the radios could work. If Phil had gone down into a ravine or over the ridge, then he probably couldn’t receive or transmit far at all.

  Troy could see Craig’s bright orange hunting vest and hat as he walked through the woods to meet him. He stopped the Razor and got out to help Craig put his pack away in the back.

  “Still no sign?” He asked, as he pulled his balaclava down under his chin.

  Craig replied, “No, and I’ve been calling for him. He may have gone over that ridge and out of range of the radios. I think we can find his tree stand and may be able to track him. He said his tree was about a hundred yards straight in from where we dropped him off. It’s not too rugged so we can probably get the Razor through without too much problem. From there we can track him down.”

  Long as this snow doesn’t cover up the trail, Troy thought to himself.

  Troy climbed into the passenger side and let Craig take control of the ATV once they had secured their rifles. The Razor purred down the trail and in a few minutes had reached the area where they had dropped Phil off that morning. The men watched the snow falling through the trees to the ground get heavier and with a silent look knew what the other was thinking. If they didn’t find him soon, things could get bad!

  Craig turned and guided the ATV through the woods toward the area where they thought Phil’s tree stand may be. With the snow coming down so heavy now it would be easy to miss it so they had to go slow and stop every so often to look around. The tree stand would most likely still be attached to the tree with a cable lock on it. The men were very familiar with this routine. They would hunt the same location for a few days leaving the tree stands attached to the base of the tree. The problem was locating the exact tree. In the thick brush, they could pass right by it and never know.

  About a half hour later, Troy gave Craig a nudge.

  “Hey that might be it. Let’s drive over that way.” he said as he gestured off to the right.

  Craig turned the Razor in the direction his friend was pointing and pulled up to the tree. Attached to the base about three feet off the ground was Phil’s climber tree stand just as they had figured. Unfortunately, the snow had started coming down much heavier now threatening to cover any tracks the man may have left. They climbed out of the ATV and looked around. Troy gave another call out on the radio.

  “Phil, this is Troy. Do you copy?”

  His request was met with silence.

  “His pack isn’t here and from the best I can tell he went off in that direction.” Craig was pointing toward a large pinion tree. He knew from the way Phil left his tree stand and the heavy boot tracks leading off, that this had to be his trail. As they climbed back in the Razor and headed in that general direction Craig reached down and turned the heater on. If nothing else, it would keep their feet warm even though they wore plenty of layers of clothing, along with neoprene face masks and ski hoods.

  “We’ll have to hurry if we want to find him before the weather really gets bad. This snow is getting heavier by the minute and once it reaches the ground in these woods it’ll get tough as hell to find any tracks underneath it.”

  “Who knows,” Troy said. “Maybe we’ll come across fresh tracks in the snow and it’ll make it easier. Surely he still has his orange vest and hat on.”

  “We can hope!” Craig replied as he started off in the direction he indicated.

  +++

  The snow falling on his stocking cap melted and ran down his exposed face. He was groggy and his head was pounding. Phil moved his hand to his head gingerly pulling his cap off and felt sticky wetness in his hair. He hoped that it was just the snow and sweat, but as his vision cleared, he could see the blood stain on his hand. He rolled over to his side and tried to sit up.

  “Ahh, damn!” he said, and lay back down. He waited a moment before slowly sitting back up. This time he had more luck. He ran his hand over his head a few more times and felt around. Satisfied he was otherwise in good shape, he staggered to his feet. He still had his radio ear buds around his neck, but the radio was nowhere to be found. He must’ve dropped it somewhere. He searched his pockets and discovered his GPS unit was also missing. “What the hell! Where’s my gun?” he asked out loud. His vision had cleared, but he was feeling dizzy and a little disoriented. He looked around trying to get a bearing on where he was. The last thing he remembered was taking a shot at a really nice buck.

  He made his way over to a fallen tree and sat down on the log to gather his thoughts. He rubbed his aching head as he sat in silence and watched the snow falling all around him. He simply could not remember anything after shooting the buck. He rested for a few minutes as he scanned the area for anything familiar. The snow had been falling and covered any tracks that he may have left and nothing seemed familiar. He stood and decided to make a sweep of the area to search for his pack and rifle. He knew he would never leave that behind, no matter what.

  After fifteen minutes of searching he stopped and made note of his current location and familiarized himself with it as best he could. He decided he should try to find his way back to the game trail and that, he knew was going down the mountain side and definitely not up. He was confident he wasn’t lost. From there he should have no trouble finding his way off the mountain. The snow was beginning to fall more rapidly as well as the temperature. He looked around one last time for his backpack, bu
t had no luck. Unsure where he was exactly and no sun to guide him, he started off in a direction he thought was east and heading down. The terrain was unfamiliar to him, but he wasn’t worried about finding his way out. He was more worried about losing his rifle.

  +++

  Troy called out on the radio repeatedly, but heard no reply from Phil. He and Craig had been searching for a few hours and it was beginning to get darker from the winter storm. The two had separated and were combing the area in a crisscross pattern.

  “Craig, do you copy?” Troy called out on the radio.

  “I gotcha, Troy,” Craig replied.

  They were about a hundred yards apart and the snowfall was heavy, even under the dense canopy of trees and scrub brush. It had already covered the ground completely now and they were finding no new tracks.

  “I wonder if Phil decided to walk back to the cabin,” Troy speculated. It was more of a question than a statement. “He’s good out here in the woods even though this is unfamiliar territory.” Craig said. “I bet he’s already hiked back to get the truck to haul that buck outta here. Don’t know why he wouldn’t have waited on us though!”

  “Maybe so, but I hate to just head back without knowing. I think one of us should stay here just in case he comes back,” Troy said.

  “Good idea,” Craig replied. “Let’s head back to the Razor.”

  Soon the men had made their way back over to the ATV and from there decided that Craig would drive back to the cabin and look for Phil while Troy waited in Phil’s spot in case he returned.

  +++

  The sheriff drove along the state highway and turned off onto a blacktopped county road. He followed it until he reached an old barn that had fallen years ago from neglect. There, he took a county road that wound up through the mountains toward Troy Turner’s cabin. The snow was coming down much heavier now, but he wasn’t worried in the 4X4 he drove. It shouldn’t take more than half an hour to get to the place now.

  The big vehicle bounced along the old dirt road when the sheriff suddenly slammed on the brakes. It took the big truck a few seconds to come to a jolting stop due to the wet snow on the road…

  +++

  Troy had waited at Phil’s tree stand for the better part of an hour before Craig returned. He pulled up on the ATV and left all of the lights on to shine as brightly as possible. Maybe Phil would see the lights and know where to come.

  “I looked everywhere at the house. He wasn’t there and doesn’t look like he has been either,” Craig shouted through the stocking cap he wore over his head and face. He was nervously revving the engine as well. “The truck’s still parked in the front and I didn’t see any tracks in the snow. I drove all around the perimeter of the yard, nothing!”

  “Where in the world could he be?” Troy questioned aloud.

  “I don’t know, buddy, but it’s not like him,” Craig said worriedly.

  The storm had set in and caused a premature nightfall to take hold. The men couldn’t see anything in the woods without the use of lights. Neither of them ventured a guess that something terrible could have happened to Phil, yet each knew in the back of their minds that he could have been tracking the wounded animal over the mountain ridge and gotten lost. If that were the case, it would be incredibly lucky to find him before the storm had cleared.

  “It’s getting dark and I hate to leave here without him!” Craig exclaimed. “Why don’t I take you back to the cabin? I’ll stay in the Razor and search for him and you can take my truck. Turn on all the LED’s and let ‘em shine. Hopefully he’ll see ‘em!”

  Troy jumped in beside Craig and together they drove away in a mad rush throwing snow out from under the all-terrain tires of the Razor and sending it flying behind them.

  +++

  Phil was a skilled woodsman, but he was disoriented from the blow to the head. He was weak, thirsty, and hungry and had a terrible headache. He had lost his backpack which had food and water in it. Everything he had in the way of survival was what he had on him. He decided to try to find his tree stand, but the terrain itself wasn’t familiar and the snow had covered his tracks completely. He looked around, but could not see very far in the distance as the snow was heavy even in the deep woods. He couldn’t see any of the mountain peaks in order to orient himself so he used his feet to feel the ground beneath him and guessed at the direction that he thought felt sloping down and started walking. Eventually the terrain turned more drastic in a downward slope and he knew he was headed on the right path.

  The sky was getting dark and the snow still coming down. He had no idea how long he had been walking. At least a couple of inches covered the ground now. Phil trudged along a game trail in the woods and felt very alone. He was angry more than he was afraid, and the anger drove him forward. He had no idea what had happened. Had he slipped and fell? Maybe hit his head on a rock? He just couldn’t remember! When he looked up from the path he saw headlights! Phil half ran and half stumbled through the woods as quickly as he could in the direction of the headlights. They were getting closer to him so he took off his orange stocking cap and started waving the driver down.

  +++

  Sheriff Blaine threw the gear shift into park and jumped out of the big four-wheel drive. Just off to his right a man had staggered out of the woods wearing hunter safety orange with blood on his face. He was only about ten feet from the road and waving an orange cap frantically to get his attention. The sheriff ran over to meet the distressed hunter. “What the hell happened to you, son?” he asked.

  “Not sure exactly, but sure glad you came by when you did!” Phil panted… “Was hunting with some buddies, shot a nice buck and then…well, can’t remember a damned thing after that! My rifle’s gone, my pack is missing. I have no idea what happened. All I remember is shooting that buck. After that, it’s all black.”

  “Let’s take a look at that injury.” The sheriff moved over to Phil and began to triage him.

  “I’ve got a first aid kit in the truck. Let’s get you cleaned up a bit and we can take a closer look. It’s too damn cold to stand around out here in this snow and we need to get you warmed up.”

  The two men climbed into the truck and as the sheriff cleaned Phil’s wound he began to inquire for more detail. “Looks worse than what it really is. Who are ya? What’s your name?”

  After a few seconds he responded. “Phil. Phil Jackson, sir. I’m staying with a friend, Troy Turner, up at his cabin not far from here.”

  “Head wounds tend to bleed a lot. Tell me, do you have a headache? Are you dizzy or nauseous?”

  “Yes sir, my head is pounding…ears are ringing too.”

  Phil felt like his head was the size of a basketball. As hard as he tried, he could not remember a thing after tracking the buck he had shot.

  “Have you been throwing up any?” Blaine asked him.

  “No, not really. Just dizzy as hell.”

  “Well, I’m no doctor,” the sheriff paused, “But I think you may have a concussion. I know the cabin where you’re staying, but we need to get you to the ER first. I’ll send a deputy out to let your buddy know where you’re at.”

  The radio signal was weak as far out of town as they were because of interference from the mountains. After driving for thirty minutes, the sheriff was able to reach his deputy and explain the situation to him. The deputy assured him that he would get in touch with Turner and have him pick up his friend at the emergency room in town. On the trip in, Phil relayed everything that he could remember, but it wasn’t much more than he had already told the Sheriff. He simply couldn’t remember anything about what happened. It was a long drive, but the sheriff made good time and pulled into the hospital emergency room entrance just as it was getting dark.

  Deputy Larson had been patrolling the county road near Troy’s turnoff, locally known as Reed Road, when he received the call from the sheriff. He turned his truck around and headed for the cabin. From his location it wouldn’t take him more than half an hour to reach it even in
the snowy weather.

  Chapter 8

  Troy had been slowly driving along the property edges in Craig’s truck searching for Phil when he saw the headlights approaching. He drove back out to the driveway to meet them at the cabin. It was Deputy Larson. He pulled up beside him and the deputy rolled his window down.

  “Hey, Mister Turner, Sheriff sent me out here to let you know he found a guy that says he’s a friend of yours. He’s taking him to the ER in town. Nothing serious, but the sheriff found him walking near the county road not far from here with a concussion. Must’ve fallen and banged his head or something. Should be alright, but he’s taking him in to see the doc just as a precaution.”

  “Wow, that’s good to hear! We’ve been looking for him since this morning! Hang on a sec deputy I need to radio...” He trailed off just as he noticed the Razor’s headlights coming up the road behind him. “Well, there he is now. That’s our friend Craig on the ATV there.”

  Troy explained to the deputy that he had two friends from Oklahoma that were staying a couple of weeks to do some deer hunting. They talked a few minutes about the rock throwing, but Troy assured him that they haven’t seen or heard anything else the last few days. He got out of his truck and greeted Craig as he parked the ATV close to the driveway and walked over to the pair.

  “Craig, this is Deputy Larson. He said the sheriff found Phil. Apparently he has a concussion and he took him to the ER. We can follow the deputy back to town and go meet them there.”

  Craig shook hands with the deputy.

  “Where did he find him? Any idea what happened?”