by Mark Reps
“Pull in over there so we can return the briefcase to Dr. Bede.”
Zeb parked in the small lot. It was vacant except for Bede’s truck.
“Doesn’t look like he’s around,” said Zeb.
“Maybe he’s out doing some field work.”
“Halloo...Doctor Bede,” shouted the sheriff.
An echo from a nearby canyon returned his call.
“Doesn’t look like he’s within earshot,” said Zeb.
“Let’s take a hike. We’re not too far from where we wanted to go anyway.”
Jake pulled the map out of his pocket and carefully unfolded it on top of a large boulder. Removing his glasses from a case, he placed them on his head. They immediately slipped to the tip of his nose.
“Here’s the lake.”
Jake tapped a weathered finger against the map as he squinted through his bifocals, measuring his bearings. He looked up at the lake then back down at the map several times. Sliding a rough hand smoothly across the plat to a second point, he tapped again.
“And here’s where we want to be.”
Zeb leaned on the rock and eyeballed the map.
“How the hell are we going to know exactly where we are? I mean there aren’t markings up here. We could be off the mark by a quarter of a mile or more. How would we ever know? We’re on some sort of wild goose chase if you ask me.”
“Normally, I’d say you’d be right, but I did a little homework. The records filed at the courthouse indicate a private survey crew, out of Phoenix, came up here and marked the corner boundaries of the AIMGO property with orange flags. I talked with Ed Johnson over at the county survey office. He said the flags should be mounted on poles with numbers written on them.”
“And when we find them, then what?”
“Then we know where they are,” replied Jake.
“Exactly what good will that be to us?”
“I’m not exactly sure.”
“Damn it, Jake, you’re starting to give me a headache.”
“Zeb, you’re just going to have to trust my gut on this one.”
The sheriff followed Jake through the spruce trees for half a mile. The foliage gave way abruptly, revealing a magnificent sky. Jake smiled as he watched Zeb staring spellbound toward the sky.
“What do you think, Zeb?”
“You weren’t kidding. This is weird. It’s almost like you can reach up and touch the sky.”
“I know. This is the spot that both my grandfather and Song Bird showed me. This is a holy place for the Apaches, maybe even their most sacred spot.” Jake’s voice was both low and humble.
“Is it okay for us to be here?”
“Yes. Both my grandfather and Song Bird showed me this place for a reason. Something in my heart told me it was important for you to see and feel this place.”
Zeb walked toward the horizon. His arms felt weighty. He struggled to lift them from his side. Each advancing step increased his sluggishness until he felt as though he was wading through a sea of mud. Previously unheard sounds reverberated in his ears. Nearly paralyzed by his strange surroundings, Zeb began gasping for air when a hand grasped his shoulder.
“We should leave. Now!” commanded Jake.
With an unsteady gait Zeb followed Jake off the peak, away from the sacred spot.
“What happened to me?” begged Zeb.
“I don’t know. I just know it is a very powerful place.”
The trail widened and the surroundings became familiar again. By the time the men neared the Riggs Lake campground, Zeb felt normal.
“There’s our man,” said Jake.
Dr. Bede rose to greet them from a lawn chair he had placed at the edge of the lake.
“Hello, Sheriff Hanks, Mr. Dablo. I saw the police car and I figured it was you. What brings you two way up here today?”
“Actually, it’s you, Dr. Bede, that we have come to see,” replied Sheriff Hanks.
“Have…have I done something wrong? Was I supposed to get an extension on my camping permit?”
“No,” laughed Zeb. “We’re returning something that belongs to you.”
“My briefcase? I get so absent-minded. I must have forgotten it in town. Let me see. Was it at the library or the courthouse?”
“You left it at the Town Talk last night.”
“Oh, yes. That cozy little restaurant with the loud waitress.”
“Better watch what you say or you might get arrested,” said Jake.
“What did I say? I don’t want to get arrested.”
“You just insulted the sheriff’s girlfriend. That’s what.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I should have recognized her. She’s the woman that was up here with you that night? Right?”
“That’s right. Not too many people forget Doreen so easily.”
“I am sorry. It’s not that she’s so loud, but I spend most of my time alone and in nature. When someone bellows out their words, I mean when someone speaks loudly, well, I have sensitive ears. I’m sorry. I meant no insult to her.”
“Forget about it,” said the sheriff, shrugging his shoulders.
“Pardon my bad manners. Would you men care for some coffee? It will only take a minute to heat some up. I already have some made. I can heat it on my Coleman.”
“Sure, why not?” replied Jake.
“I could use a cup of coffee myself,” added Zeb.
“You know it’s very nice to have some company,” began Dr. Bede, lighting the burner on the stove. “I spend a lot of time up here by myself. To be honest, it can get sort of lonely.”
“How long have you been on this project anyway?” asked Zeb.
“Six weeks now. Three weeks of preparation time at my office. Three weeks, as of today, up here in the field, as we call it. The forest service has extensive rules and regulatory requirements I have to follow. You know how bureaucrats are.”
Jake and Zeb nodded. Both knew a man’s job was as much dotting the i’s and crossing the t’s as it was actually doing the work. Bede may have been a highly educated doctor doing scientific fieldwork, but he was still beholden to higher ups.
“Since you’re the expert, what makes Mount Graham so unique?” asked Jake.
“This mountain isn’t like any other in the entire United States. It has five distinct ecological zones.”
“No kidding,” said Jake. “I guess living around it you just take it for granted.
“That’s natural. Most people take for granted what they expect they’ll always have,” said Bede.
“Now you said there are five zones. What does that mean?” asked Jake.
“Down by the base of the mountain it is desert flora with cactus and all the scrub undergrowth indicative of the area. Coming up the mountain next is the Pinion/Juniper belt, followed by the Pine/Oak belt, the Fir/Aspen belt and, at the top of the mountain, the Spruce/Fir belt with its old growth forest.”
“So what does the Forest Service want from this?”
“Their particular interest, as far as my project is concerned, lies in the old growth forest near the top of the mountain.”
“What does the wife think of you being gone all the time?” asked Jake.
“Oh heavens, I’m not married. I’m afraid I have no time for that sort of thing.”
As Bede poured the men their coffee, a horn honked in the background. The men turned to see Deputy Delbert.
“Good, more company,” said Bede.
“Damn,” said Zeb. “I forgot Delbert had rural patrol up here today. I could have saved him the drive.”
“Howdy Jake, Sheriff,” said Delbert. “You guys fishin’?”
Zeb explained the reason for their visit and introduced the deputy to Bede.
“You men aren’t interested in a little dinner are you?” asked Bede. “I picked up a six pack of beer last time I was in town. I could make us all something to eat.”
The loneliness in his voice allowed only one answer.
“Hell, yes,” said Jake.
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“Sounds okay,” said Zeb.
“I am awful hungry,” added Delbert.
“Great. I bought some fresh hamburger. A beer would go nicely with that.”
“None for me,” said Jake. “You’re looking at a teetotaler.”
“I’ll have one,” said Delbert
“Ditto,” said Zeb.
“Coming right up.”
Doctor Bede sprinted over to his tent, opened the flap and ran back, beers in hand.
“I couldn’t help but notice your telescope over there,” said Jake.
“It’s a little hobby of mine, astronomy that is,” replied Doctor Bede. “With all the time I spend in these high elevations, it helps pass the time.”
“It’s a hobby of mine, too. My grandfather taught me.”
“Really? What a coincidence, so did mine,” replied the doctor.
“Do you have a favorite constellation?” asked Jake.
“As a matter of fact I do. It’s Perseus, because of Algol.”
“The Demon’s Head. I know it well. The ancient Hebrews thought it resembled the Devil’s head.”
“A wonderful bit of superstition,” said Bede. “An unexplained dimming of a star to the ancients who knew nothing of eclipsing binary stars would certainly be disturbing. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Of course. That is why all the old maps depict it as the eye of the severed head of Medusa.”
“I commend your knowledge. How about yourself? What group of stars is your favorite?”
“Orion,” replied Jake. “Because of Rigel.”
“Of course,” said the doctor thoughtfully. “Who wouldn’t love a bright double star that represents beauty and enlightenment?”
The unique kinship of a shared passion stirred something inside of Jake to share the story of the tragic death of his granddaughter, Rigella. But Bede spoke first.
“The eyes of a vengeful but watchful God see through beautiful Rigel.”
“What? What did you say?” asked Jake.
“Rigel,” replied the doctor. “The ancient Syrians, long before the Greeks and the Romans, believed in the power of that star.”
“I don’t know the story told by the Syrians.”
“You know the Greek mythological story?”
“Yes,” replied Jake. “Orion, the handsome and beautiful hunter, was the lover of Diana. When she accidentally killed him, she placed him in the heavens to be near her. It’s near Taurus in the sky. Rigel and Betelgeuse are stars in Orion.”
“Very good. You know your stars very well. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of the ancient myth of Rigel.”
“Please tell me,” begged Jake.
“The ancient ones believed the Creator looked down upon the world from behind the stars. They believed he could see everything going on. So as not to surprise and scare the people, the Creator disguised his eyes as bright stars. The twin stars in Rigel were believed to be the eyes of God.”
“You said a watchful and vengeful god.”
“In the ancient times when people were at the whim of nature, much more so than we are today, they prayed to God to watch over them. In like manner and knowing that nature must unleash its fury, they prayed God send His vengeance upon their enemies.”
Jake was visibly overcome with melancholy. The horrible vengeance entangled in his granddaughter’s death was retribution directed at him but taken out on her. Why had God forsaken his granddaughter? Why had God forsaken him? Where were the eyes of God then?
“Jake? Jake? Are you okay?” Delbert’s normal, reassuring voice snapped Jake from his bitter remembrance.
“Did I say something wrong?” asked an apologetic Doctor Bede.
“No. It was nothing,” replied Jake.
“Well, I guess if I’m going to have dinner guests, I’d better get to work,” said Bede.
“Anything I can do to help?” asked Deputy Delbert.
“Sure. You can get me my supply sack.”
Bede pointed to a knapsack tied to a tree branch above the reach of bears and other wild animals.
“Mind if I grab myself another beer while I’m at it?” asked Delbert.
“Wait, I’ll get it for you,” said Bede, scrambling to his feet.
“Don’t bother. I can get it.”
Opening the tent flap and reaching for the cooler, Delbert did an involuntary double take. Inside of the tent was an altar enshrined with an icon of Christ on the Cross, a statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary, a rosary and a Bible. Lying next to the Bible were the neatly folded vestments of a priest. To the side of the clothing a small sign written in blood red ink read, ‘The Sacred Heart of Jesus Forgives the Sins of All Men’.
Delbert reached into the cooler. Next to the beer were four liquid filled vials. Delbert pulled his head out of the tent, acting as if he had seen nothing out of the ordinary.
“I see you found one,” said Bede, moving to position himself between the deputy and the tent.
“Yah, I got a cold one. Thanks,” said Delbert, hoisting his beer to the doctor.
After dinner Bede invited the men to have a look through his telescope.
“No thanks, not tonight. Maybe some other time,” replied Jake. “It’s time we hit the road.”
“I’d be delighted if sometime you would come back and share my looking glass with me.”
“Some other time, perhaps,” said Jake.
The men thanked Bede and headed down the mountain. In the car Jake made little attempt at conversation. Zeb gave some small talk a shot.
“The little guy can cook pretty darn good, wouldn’t you say?”
“Yup, I guess,” replied Jake. “Couldn’t help but notice you bypassed the parsnips.”
“They don’t do much for me,” replied Zeb.
“Me neither, I didn’t eat any, but I saw Delbert take a small bite of one. He chewed the parnsips for a few seconds. Maybe even swallowed a bit of ‘em. But then he spit the rest of it out like he’d bitten into a rotten tomato.”
As wordless minutes passed, Zeb observed Jake staring sullenly out the window.
“Jake, you’re too quiet for your own good. What’s on your mind?”
“I was just thinking about my granddaughter.”
Zeb nodded. Innocent Rigella had been murdered by a vengeful son who was seeking a pound of flesh from the former sheriff as retribution for the death of his own father. Jake’s obsession with finding the killer cost him his career, his wife and nearly his will to live. The pain of a broken heart and the knowledge he would grow old without having grandchildren to teach about the stars weighed heavily on the injured soul of the ex-sheriff.
The men drove in silence as the big yellow moon shining on the desert floor created an eerie luminescence throughout the valley.
Chapter Thirteen
Jake rose early and headed to the Town Talk for coffee and eggs. He was surprised to see the early morning regulars congregating near the front door of the diner.
“Don’t tell me Doreen is locking people out of her business these days?”
A toothless old man puffing on a hand rolled cigarette growled out an answer.
“Locked up tighter than a drum. Dark as night in there.”
Another elderly gentleman, holding his hands on the sides of his head, pushed his face against the windowpane in a vain attempt to see something that wasn’t there.
“If she was out carousin’ all night, I only wish I had been her escort,” he joked.
His words were received with a round of gritty laughter.
Jake looked up and down the street. Doreen’s car was nowhere to be seen. The town hall clock read five twenty and she always opened at five sharp.
“I’ll go wake her up,” offered Jake.
The waiting men nodded in agreement to the idea as Jake climbed behind the wheel of his truck and drove the few short blocks to her house. Jake pulled around the back of the house to see if Doreen’s car was parked in the alley. It was. When no one answered his knock, Jake
let himself in through the unlocked door.
“Hello. Anybody home? Doreen? Zeb?”
Jake left the empty house with an uneasy feeling. Even though a tough decade had passed since he last wore a badge, instinct took over. He drove directly to the hospital. The sheriff’s truck was parked near the emergency room door. Inside, the duty nurse, Jill Jerome, was busy filling out intake forms.
“Jill, are Doreen Nightingale and Sheriff Hanks in the emergency room?”
“Good morning to you, too,” replied the nurse.
“Sorry, Jill. Good morning,” said Jake.
“As to your question, yes, Doreen Nightingale is, and so is the sheriff.”
“Did something happen to Doreen?”
“No,” said the nurse.
“Is the sheriff okay?”
“He’s fine.”
“Then what are they doing here?”
“I can’t say. Patient confidentiality.”
“Come on, Jill. It’s me, Jake. For criminy sakes.”
Jill Jerome, R.N., was tired and a touch crabby at the end of a busy night shift. She was in no mood for an argument. She glanced around the waiting room one more time to make sure no one overheard her. She whispered to Jake.
“Deputy Delbert Funke is in there. He came in last night. We pumped his stomach.”
“Why? What for?”
“It looks like food poisoning.”
“What? Food poisoning?”
“Zeb and I ate the same food he ate last night and we’re not sick,” said Jake.
“Maybe he had an early breakfast,” said the nurse. “I’m sure he’ll tell you when he feels like talking.”
Jake grabbed a cup of coffee and took a seat. A few minutes later Doreen came walking down the hallway.
“What in the hell is going on, Doreen?”
“It’s Delbert. He’s sicker than the puppy that ate grandpa’s slippers.”
“Here, have a seat,” offered Jake. “Tell me what happened.”
“Last night Zeb came over to my place around ten. It was just after you guys got back from up on the Mount. He was plumb tuckered and we hit the rack early.”
“Go on.”
“The way I heard it, Delbert started feeling sick to his stomach on the ride down the Mount. By the time he got home he couldn’t hardly get his breath. Mrs. Funke said five minutes later he was layin’ on his back, eyes wide open, kinda like a deer in the headlights. Then, all of the sudden, right out of the blue, his chest started heaving up and down like a house afire. He puked up a greasy black hunk of gunk.”