by Pat Price
The man looked at the Chief again.
"Tell him," Chief Two Feathers said.
"He walked straight up to Jimmy and said that he guessed Rebecca's taste in men had changed to white meat."
"Why would he say that?" I asked.
"Because," Rebecca said, "I used to see Bear Olson. I stopped keeping company with him about a year and a half ago. He became moody and abusive to everyone and knowing what we know now I can understand why."
I looked back at the man we were talking with. "What happened then?"
"James turned around and walked outside. Bear Olson followed him. James was almost to his truck when Bear Olson caught up with him. I saw Officer Olson grab James by the shoulder and jerk him around. James then knocked him down. It happened so fast. I was looking at both of them but I really did not see James strike officer Olson. He was knocked backward off of his feet and fell flat onto his back."
"Then what happened?" I asked.
"James went over to Officer Olson and picked him up by the front of his jacket."
"Was Olson in his DPS uniform?" I asked.
"Yes, he was dressed in his uniform. He had his gun and handcuffs on his belt. After James got him on his feet, Officer Olson backed off from James and pulled his gun. He made James turn around and he put the handcuffs on him."
"Did he arrest Jimmy?" I asked, starting to worry. If he arrested Jimmy it might mean that he would be in jail somewhere in Phoenix. If that was the case I could call Mendoza and get him sprung.
"No," the man said, "he did not say anything about arresting him."
"What did he say?" I asked, getting impatient.
"He said, "I know what you are looking for Apple, and I'm going to show it to you."" That told me that Olson, using a racist term “Apple”. That told me Olson was also a racist.
That shocked me for two reasons. For one, it meant that Olson was getting bold and was probably over sure of himself and two, the man telling us did not call the Chief. The big Ford pickup was still parked next to the trading post. I walked over to it and looked inside. The thought that went through my mind was that Jimmy must revert when he is back on the reservation because the keys were hanging in the ignition. I looked back at the Chief and Rebecca.
"I've got to go," I said. The Chief nodded and I opened the driver's door of the Ford and got inside.
-46-
I drove back to the house and Rebecca and the Chief were right behind me. I locked up the wheels and stopped beside the house. The good thing about living on the reservation is that no one locks their doors so I just opened the back patio door and went inside. I hurried back to the bedroom I was using and opened the closet and started tossing gear onto the bed. Rebecca and the Chief came in behind me.
"What are you going to do?" she asked.
"I'm going to go after them," I said as I packed my gear bag with my low carry holster, Colt Commander with a full clip and 3 extra clips of ammo. I handed the water bladder to Rebecca and asked her to fill it. She left the room and I turned to the Chief.
"I think Olson took him to the cave. I'm going to drive into the canyon next to the one he is in and hike over. If I find Olson I'm probably going to have to kill him. Is anyone on the reservation going to have a problem with that?" I asked him.
"No one in this house will have a problem with that. Bear Olson has a lot of power and you had better be careful. He will kill you on sight if he sees you."
“I can be hard to kill,” I said as I threw the pack together.
The Chief was standing directly in front of me and had placed his right hand on my shoulder while he was speaking. Rebecca came in with the water bladder filled and stood behind her father. She cleared her throat and stepped to the side and handed the bladder to me. I placed it into the gear bag along with my ghillie suit, climbing rope, handheld GPS unit, and some other gear. I zipped the top closed and pulled one last thing from the closet, the hard shell case with the long gun inside.
-47-
I watched the GPS display as I drove east on Highway 87. When the display matched the coordinates I had saved as we crossed over the Highway while flying out of the canyon I pulled off of the 2-lane Highway. Access to the wash was restricted by a barb wired fence. The fence actually started about 3 or 4 miles back from where I had come and I didn’t have a clue how far it ran. I pulled the small tool bag from behind the seat and thankfully Jimmy had included a pair of side cutters or linesman’s pliers in the bag. There are only two reasons to put up a fence. The first is to keep something in and the second is to keep something out. I did not know why this fence had been put up in the first place but I knew for certain someone would probably be upset with me cutting an opening to get through.
I cut all five strands then got back into the truck and drove through the opening. The right thing to have done would have been to splice as many of the strands back together but I didn’t have the time. I followed the wash east and south for the next three miles while it turned from a flat wash into a narrow canyon about 50 feet deep. About five miles later the canyon was choked with large boulders and I came to a dead stop. I turned off the truck and got out to look around.
The topographical map and the GPS showed that where I needed to be was 11 or 12 miles further up the canyon. I thought for a few minutes while looking at the map. I had three choices. I could turn around and go back to the road and try and find Olson’s canyon which would probably turn out to be a joke. I could climb up the side of the wall and continue hiking to where I needed to be up on the mesa. The downside of that is that I might run into eroded sections of the mesa and have to climb down and then back up. The last choice was to hike the next 11 miles up the canyon and then climb up to the mesa once instead of several times. I opted for the last choice.
I pulled my gear out from behind the seat and removed my long gun from its hard shell case and laid it on the tail gate of the truck. My ghillie suit, water bladder and my climbing gear were all in a soft pack that I swung onto my back. I strapped my thigh holster and the Combat Commander on my right leg and the K-bar knife below the holster. I cycled the slide back on the Colt and let it strip a cartridge from the top of the magazine and into the barrel. Next I removed the magazine and pushed another round into it then slid the magazine back into the handle of the pistol. I removed the three additional magazines from the gun pack and slipped them into the equipment pouch strapped on my left leg. The last piece of gear was the GPS unit on the front seat of the truck
I started off with a total of about 20 pounds of gear including the water bladder. The temptation when you are in a hurry is to run. The last thing you really want to do is run on a forced march. I had about 11 miles to go and while I certainly could have run about half the distance I would be too played out at the end to be much good to myself or to Jimmy. I first climbed over the boulders that clogged the canyon where I left the truck. The clog was 20 to 30 yards in length. Over the next 11 miles I climbed over 2 more spots that had been choked off by land slides from the canyon walls. The only thing that would have really helped would have been a light weight 4-stroke dirt bike.
I covered the distance of 11 miles, according to the GPS set, in about 3 hours. I did this by walking and running and climbing. Half of my water was gone and I had been stupid because I had not eaten before I left the reservation and I had not packed any food. When I run in California I never pack food because I carry cash and am rarely more than a half mile from a convenience store. When I ride my bicycle, I always carry food bars or carbohydrate gel packs for food. When I stopped at the spot marked X on the map, I was exhausted and used the next 15 minutes to rest and to find a place on the wall of the canyon that would be easy to climb.
It was about 3:20 in the afternoon when I started the climb. The section of wall I scaled was not steep and I did not need to use the rope or ice spikes on my boots. The 50 foot climb took only about 20 minutes and when I reached the top, I stopped and rested again and drank what water I had left then
eliminated most of what was inside of me.
The easy part was getting across the mesa once I climbed out of the canyon. The almost 2 miles separating the canyons was for the most part flat with a slight slope upward to the east. I'm in pretty good shape for a person my age and in running shorts and shoes I can cover a mile in about six minutes and the second mile about a minute or so slower. I was now down to about 15 pounds of gear after drinking the last of my water. I kept looking at my watch and even with the adrenaline my body was pumping, the first mile across the top of the mesa took ten minutes and the second almost 15.
As I neared the drop off into the canyon I stopped and checked the GPS unit. After verifying where I was, I altered my track a little more to the south and managed to come out within a 100 yards of where I wanted to be. Without the GPS locator I could have spent all day trying to find right spot in a featureless canyon.
I grounded the backpack I was wearing and crawled to the lip of the canyon and looked down. It was getting to be late afternoon and on the opposite wall of the canyon and to my right was a darker shadow mixed in with the lighter shadow cast from my side of the canyon. "What incredible luck," I thought to myself. It didn't stop because a few seconds later I saw the barrel and receiver of a gun sticking out from the middle of the shadow. I trained the monocular on the shadow and was able to see the toes of someone's boots under the barrel. A few minutes more and the person holding the gun flipped a cigarette out into the sand then took a step forward and stretched.
I pulled back, not wanting anyone down there to see me on top of the canyon wall looking down at him. They might think I was just a hunter but considering the stakes being played, they also might just decide to kill anyone who discovered their operation, just as a preventative measure.
I moved back and picked up the backpack and hiked about five hundred yards north until the canyon curved around to the west. At that point the floor of the canyon was about two hundred feet deep but the walls were not sheer. I had 100 feet of light climbing rope, repelling harness, hand pick, and some steel toe spikes. I ran back and forth along a 100-yard section of the top of the wall until I found an area where rain had eroded a fracture in the wall. I moved my gear to that area and pulled the rope and climbing gear and repacked the ghillie suit and spare clips. These went over the wall in the pack. I didn't want any more weight on me on the way down than was absolutely necessary. I was trying to hurry because the early November light was failing fast and I didn't want to be half way down and stuck on the wall when the light was completely gone.
I slid my right wrist through the nylon strap on the handle of the climbing pick and hung the climbing rope on a snap on my web belt then strapped the steel toe spikes on my boots. The last thing I hung on myself was the long rifle, which went on my back. I then sat on the eroded fracture at the edge of the wall and rolled onto my stomach. I nailed the climbing pick into the soft sand stone of the wall about even with my shoulder then started sliding down, an inch or two at a time. When my arm was stretched out I dug my toe spikes into the wall. Then while balancing with my left hand, I nailed the hand pick into the wall again. I watched the time and by being careful averaged about 3 feet a minute. When I was 50 feet down I decided that I would not be able to use the rope because there was nothing to tie it off on. I unsnapped the rope and let it slide to the bottom without having to carry it down with me. I didn't bother to watch it tumble to the canyon floor because I didn't have the time and I didn't want to look down. If one of Olson's Indians walked down the canyon I would have made an exceptional target and would have been in big trouble.
The trip to the bottom took just over an hour and a few minutes. Once I was on the base of the canyon I removed the long rifle and sat down on the canyon floor. I tossed the toe spikes and hand pick onto a pile. I was not going to need them to get into the cave. I pulled the ghillie suit out of the pack I had dropped over the side of the wall. I took the ghillie suit and stood and shook it out then draped it on top of the pile. I put Velcro at the bottom of the ghillie to make it attach to my ankles. It was now about 20 minutes to five in the evening and in the shadow of the canyon wall it was getting dark. Once the ghillie was draped over my back I could feel the warmth it afforded me. For a second I regretted not having a light jacket with me until I realized it would have represented another pound of gear I didn’t want to carry.
I picked up the long gun, cycled a round into the chamber and started off at a fast walk toward the cave entrance. It was now completely dark because night falls fast in the desert especially when you are on the bottom of a canyon. The shadows across the bottom of the canyon floor were now complete and for all intents and purposes it was night.
I stayed close to the west wall of the canyon and moved as quietly as I could. The second regret of the afternoon I had was that I had not thought to bring a night vision headset with me but that's why everyone says hindsight is always 20-20. My eyes slowly dilated and the light provided by the stars and a quarter moon gave everything a very dim ghostly gray cast. The wall to my right was curving and I decided to drop the ghille suit because it was not going to do anything for me. I slowly undid the Velcro straps then dropped the suit off my back and continued with the stalk.
About two or minutes later I saw a dim glow out of the left corner of my eye. You will always see something like dim light or movement out of your peripheral vision long before you see it straight on because everyone has a dead spot in their eye where the optic nerve attaches onto the back of the eye. I looked all about the point where the dim light was present and was able to make out at least two people. I didn't have a clue as to whether or not they were armed but having spotted at least 1 of them with a long gun, it was a good guess they were. Low light conditions are not real good for picking out detail so I assumed that the people I saw were the same ones I saw from the lip of the canyon less than two hours before. I could see them looking at each other then back out into the canyon so their vision was not going to be as good as mine because their eyes were constantly trying to adjust to low and moderate levels of light. Once I knew they were there I froze just to be safe, even though a darker environment surrounded me.
After a few minutes I crouched low and moved like a cat, a foot at a time, out into the center of the canyon floor. After several minutes in my new location I moved to within 25 yards of the cave entrance and saw both of the guard's silhouetted against the interior of the cave wall. I stopped and slowly dropped to my right knee and brought the rifle up to my shoulder and supported my left arm at the elbow on my left knee. The stock of the rifle was resting on my left hand and my right index finger was along side the trigger guard of the rifle. I looked through the scope at the guards. Shooting scopes or binoculars not only magnify an image, they gather light and will make something in low light conditions look brighter.
The scope worked like magic and I was able to see the two guards quite clearly. Both of them were armed with what looked like H&K MP-5s. I was surprised because the MP-5 is a short-range assault weapon. It is mainly used by anti-terrorist groups like the FBI's Hostage Rescue Team and by terrorists. It is not known as a long rang weapon, which I would have thought, would have been important for guarding a facility in the desert. If it had been me I would have chosen something more along the lines of an AR-15 or M-16 with a longer reach but then again, I wasn't Chief of Security for Olson's operation. A few seconds later I watched Olson step between the guards and say something to them. Both of the guards stepped close to him and his voice was low and I could not hear anything that passed between them. If all of them had been in a row I probably would have taken the shot and risked not taking the last one down with the same shot. Olson took two steps out from the cave entrance and looked to his left then to his right. He looked directly at me then turned back and walked into the cave. The only thing that saved me at that point was that his eyes were not dilated from the brighter interior of the cave. I could have kicked myself for not taking the shot but I had to kn
ow where Jimmy was and in what condition before I could afford to take out Olson.
When the guards were settled down again I came up off of my right knee and went back into a crouch. I slowly took a step then another as I closed the distance. I slowed my breathing as I came nearer to the cave entrance. I brought the rifle back to my shoulder, stood up and took aim at the guard standing just to the left of the cave entrance. Other than Iraq, I have rarely if ever shot anyone who did not represent a clear threat to me. I could not see the first guard's face through the scope but the glowing dot inside the scope looked to be in the center of the outline of his head. He was not going to feel anything, which was not going to be any consolation to him. I took up the slack on the trigger and the rifle banged back against my shoulder. Just before the trigger fell off of the sear I closed both of my eyes so that I was not flash blinded by the muzzle blast which must have lit up the area in front of the cave like a bolt of lighting. I opened my eyes again just after the shot went off. I caught sight of the second guard's back. He had turned and was about two steps back running into the cave. I centered the glow dot between his shoulders and pulled the trigger again. When I opened my eyes again I saw that he had been thrown forward off of his feet and was almost on the floor. He was probably dead by the time I walked past him a few seconds later.