by Nancy Cupp
El Capitan loomed in the distance with the late morning sun glinting off its sheer face. Knowing from her book that rock climbers were often seen there, she wanted to take a look. Margret ducked under a yellow plastic ribbon that blocked her path and started walking in the direction of El Capitan. Alone on the path, she wondered where all the crowds were that she’d read about.
Margret walked for a half-hour, then sat down on a rock to rest. A clinking sound and some voices drew her attention to a steep wall of rock nearby. She leaned back to watch rock climbers high on the wall, and to enjoy the sun on her face. With her hand on the rock to brace herself, she felt something, a gold chain with an emblem.
Brushing fallen leaves aside, she noticed three small round holes, or depressions, in the rock. They almost looked man-made, but Margret couldn’t figure out a reason for them. She walked around the rock trying to figure it out and kicked an empty tin can laying in the tall grass.
She held the necklace up to admire it. The chain looked dirty, but she put it on anyway. She thought the emblem kind of looked like letters, maybe a V or W, and a P. It didn’t matter, she thought it was pretty. Who ever lost this is a slob if she left the litter, thought Margret.
Margret was hungry. She hadn’t put a snack in her bag, so she decided to go back for lunch. El Capitan was much further away than it looked, maybe she could take the shuttle there later.
Tall, fluffy white clouds billowed up behind the streaked granite of Half Dome. It looked beautiful, and from where she was now, not so intimidating. I can do that, she thought. I’ll try to get a permit again, but if I can’t, I’m going anyway.
Back at the office, the front door was still locked, but she noticed a light on. Walking around, Margret peeked in the side door.
A guy that looked like he just stepped out of a movie magazine said, “Can I help you with something?”
“Um—yes, I need to get a hiking permit.”
“Sorry the office is closed for that today, we have a bit of an emergency.” As she was turning to go, sunlight glinted off the necklace she’d found. “Wait—could I see that necklace?” Margret took it off and handed it to him.
“Where did you get this?”
“I found it—just a little while ago. Was it reported lost?”
“You have to tell me exactly where you found this—it’s important!”
“Oh—I’ll give it back. I didn’t steal it or anything.” Margret gave him a general idea where she’d been walking, then remembered the strange rock she found it on.
“I know where that is. That rock was used by Indians to grind acorns. There are several in the park.”
“No way! A real artifact?”
“Yes, how many depressions were there?”
“I only saw three, it was covered with leaves and stuff.”
“Did you see anyone nearby? Why were you over there?”
“Jeez—I’m on vacation, I was just looking around, watching some climbers up high.”
“What other stuff?”
“Nothing, just some trash—cans.”
“I have to keep this. Where can I reach you if I have more questions?”
Margret was so excited about her discovery that she didn’t mind giving up the necklace. She left her name and told him she was staying in a yurt so he’d know where to find her.
☙
Fingering the emblem, Curt put in a call to the park police. “I have a small lead on where to search for Patty. A young woman came into the office wearing a necklace that I know is Patty’s. It’s one of a kind, specially made for her. The woman, her name’s Margret Malone, found it this morning at the grinding site south of the falls, near Indian Canyon.”
“Are you sure of which grinding site it was?”
“Yes, she was sure it had three depressions, so we can rule out the others because they all have more than three. Can we get as many people down that way as soon as possible?”
“I’ll get on it right away.”
“Thank you, and please keep me informed if you find anything, will you?”
“Sure thing Curt, thanks for the lead.”
Closely examining the chain, he noticed what appeared to be dried blood. Curt closed his eyes, rubbing his temples. A tear formed in the corner of his eye, and he clenched his jaw.
11
Margret’s Hike
Margret made her way back to the yurt. She prepared a lunch of peanut butter, crackers, and a squished Twinkie. A Pepsi from a nearby vending machine rounded it out. Using her pack for a back rest, she leaned back with her book to read, but her mind wandered.
I came here to do something different. Robin, and everyone else for that matter, thinks all I can do is read—and here I am—reading. I can do stuff, I bet I can hike right over there to that Half-Rock or whatever it’s called. Other people do it all the time! So can I.
Margret zipped her book into her backpack and swung it on. She swayed under the weight, and set off in the direction of Half Dome.
Margret’s shoulders burned with fatigue in twenty minutes. She was about to drop the pack for a rest when she saw the shuttle bus coming. She hurried to the stop, and got aboard. “How close can I get to Half—whatever, by bus?”
“The trail head to Half Dome is the other way. The bus goes one direction, but if you stay on you’ll eventually get there,” said the driver.
She sat perched on her seat with her pack on. This time holding tight so she wouldn’t end up on the floor again. The bus wound along the road, stopping right by the yurts where she had started. Forty minutes later the driver called out, “Mist trail!”
When the bus started moving again, Margret wondered how much further it was to the Half Dome trail. She asked the driver and he said, “It’s back there—I just called it out.”
“You said Mist trail.”
“Yeah, that’s it.”
“What?”
“The trail to Half Dome is up the Mist Trail,” the driver said, “you missed it—you can ride around the loop again or I can stop here and you can walk back,” he explained. Passengers nearby were laughing.
“Please stop.”
The bus driver pulled the bus over to the side of the road and Margret got out. “I hope you brought your rain gear,” the driver said with a grin.
Margret backtracked to the trailhead. I bet that happens all the time, she thought. Probably does it on purpose, just to get his laughs. She gritted her teeth. What does he mean—hope I brought my rain coat? She looked at the bright blue sky, It’s not going to rain.
Margret plodded along the dirt path next to the road. Soon she saw groups of people coming and going up a wide paved trail that ran next to the river. A metal sign with the letters cut out read, “Mist trail.”
This must be it, Margret thought, trudging along with her pack. Soon she was engrossed in the beautiful river bubbling over the rocks. The Merced River almost sounded like it was singing. Huge pines gave off a heavenly scent and chipmunks chattered among the rocks, begging for a treat.
Margret’s legs ached, trembling with the effort, the trail had turned steeply upward. She wanted to examine all the different shapes and sizes of pine cones that littered the trail. But she thought if she bent over, she might not be able to straighten up again under the weight of her load.
Margret was puzzled, many of the people around her were wearing raincoats. It seemed like the river was getting louder. As she turned a sharp corner to cross a bridge she was treated to a breathtaking view of a feathery waterfall.
Vibrations from tons of water entered her feet and spread throughout her whole body. Her adrenalin surged and excited her like being in the middle of a brass band.
Water thundered and crashed onto the rocks exploding into a fine mist that hung in the wind. The sparkling drops glittered in the sun painting a beautiful rainbow at the base of the cliff.
Margret slipped off her backpack and it landed on the bridge with a heavy thud. She found her camera and took a lot of p
ictures. She exchanged cameras with a couple, and they took each other’s picture in front of the falls.
On the other side of the bridge the trail became narrow and rocky. Trees grew thick in a forest carpeted with pine needles and moss. The path rose along the riverbank becoming a series of rock steps that hugged the cliff next to the waterfall.
The sound of the falls roared in her ears, and mist showered down like rain. She was soaked, her breath coming in gasps, as she labored up the steps. The line of people all climbed in the same halting manner. She would’ve turned back, but the crowd pushed her on. With trembling legs, she arrived at the top of the falls.
Her hair was dripping and plastered to her face. Her glasses had slipped down her nose, and she could barely see due to water droplets on the lenses. Margret collapsed, her chest still heaving, on a smooth apron of rock that paved the area. Others were doing the same, taking off wet gear to lie in the warm sun to relax and dry out.
As she recovered, Margret began to look around. Intrigued, she slipped out of her shoulder straps and left the heavy load behind. I don’t care if someone steals it, she thought. Let them carry the damn thing.
The view from the top of the falls was spectacular. Margret skipped from rock to rock amazed at how light she felt without the pack weighing her down. She snapped pictures and chatted with other tourists.
Returning to her backpack for a snack and water, she was surprised she didn’t want to eat much. The excitement of the hike had curtailed her appetite.
Margret spent an hour at the top of the falls, but then she started to think about getting to Half Dome. She was supposed to get as far as Little Yosemite Campground tonight, and she still had to figure out how to use her camping gear.
By now she knew it wasn’t going to be an easy walk. Most people around her were heading back down the trail. Their goal had been the top of Vernal Falls.
It was late afternoon when she headed up the almost deserted trail. The air felt crisp and cool and Margret was grateful not to be sweaty under her heavy load. Trudging with her head down, Margret passed a small metal sign with a tiny arrow pointing left to Little Yosemite Valley campground and Half Dome. Margret continued on to the right.
12
Curt
Curt spent the better part of the afternoon questioning everyone on the staff and taking notes. “When did they last see her—did they talk to her? Was she upset or sad?”
It was late afternoon when there was a break in the steady flow of people to question. Curt got up to stretch and walk around the room. He was poking around in some loose papers laying on a countertop when Paul walked in. “Glad you came in Paul, I didn’t get a chance to question you yet.”
“I’ve been busy looking for her,” said Paul. “Have you made any progress? Have you turned up the briefcase yet?”
Curt glared at him, but calmly said, “I’ve questioned the staff and I have a list of people to call in for questioning from the meeting last night.”
“How did you know she was at the meeting last night?” Paul shot back at him.
“Mining has been my family’s business for years. Of course I knew about an important meeting between the Ahawhaneeche and representatives from the company.”
“I thought you were separate from the mining business. You were supposed to preserve the park.”
“Look Paul, I’m asking the questions here—and I still live in the same town as the rest of my family. So let’s get on with this. Were you at the meeting?”
“No—well I helped her set up the chairs, but then I left. I spent the night with my girl friend in Wawona. I’m not a committee member.”
“And Patty is?”
“No, she’s a neutral party, the facilitator. But you know how she feels about the Indian’s land.”
“Did she say anything about the meeting? Who’d be there?”
“Only that she hoped they’d come to an agreement. I think she had a sign in sheet at the front door.” Paul went to the front to get it. “I assume this is what you were snooping for,” he said, handing the page to Curt.
Curt scanned through the list of names. “Thank you Paul, that’s all I need for now.”
Curt made several phone calls asking people who’d been at the meeting to come in for questioning. He contacted tribal elder, Sam Parks, and spoke with him on the phone.
“Were there any arguments or threats at the meeting?”
“No sir, Patty didn’t speak at the meeting except to call it to order, and keep track of each person’s allowed time to speak. When we all had our say, she called for a vote. Why do you ask?”
“Patty’s missing, we’re trying to find out where she is. Are there minutes of the meeting, a record of what was said?”
“Yes sir, there is. We sent them with Patty. She put them with the other papers in her briefcase.”
“What were the papers she had? What was it about?”
“I believe you know what the meeting was about, sir.”
“Why don’t you tell me, I want to hear it in your words.”
“We, the Ahwahnechee people have decided to prevent mining in our sacred places.”
“And the papers?”
“The papers were signed by our people and the representatives of Coleson Mining Company. They were signed by your father, Charles Coleson. Coleson Mining has agreed to stop exploration on our sacred lands.”
“Was the entire council in agreement?”
“No sir, some of our young men would like a chance to become rich like the Coleson family.”
Curt resisted an urge to counter that remark. “Does anyone have a copy of the agreement?”
“The original papers were put in the brief case, to be filed at the courthouse. They were to make copies and send them to everyone. I deliver the key for the case to the court clerk tomorrow morning.”
“Thank You Sam, I’ll let you know when we find her.”
Curt called his father as soon as he hung up the phone.
“Hello Dad. I need to ask you some questions about that meeting last night.”
“It didn’t go very well.”
“Why—was there fighting?”
“No,—we lost the right to explore in the park. It could’ve made us millions if we found the right vein. It could’ve made them millions too—It wouldn’t even show on the surface. But I guess they gotta have their special space. Patty didn’t say much to me at all last night. You two haven’t patched things up yet?”
“No Dad, this isn’t about that.”
“What’s it about?”
“Patty is missing.”
“Missing—by God maybe she is coming over to our side!”
“What do you mean by that?”
“She has the papers. If they don’t get delivered, negotiations start over.”
“Do you really think she’d steal the papers and split?”
“No,—I was just hoping. Hell, she fought with you tooth and nail about it.”
“That’s why we broke up, she thought they should own their rights to everything.”
“I know. Keep trying to patch it up with her, she’s a nice girl.”
“I will. Thanks Dad, I’ll talk to you later.”
Curt thought about the arguments he and Patty had. He wondered why he’d been so angry about the issue. Was it a trigger created by years of influence from his father? Patty had argued for the Native people, she’d told him they knew best how to manage land that was theirs long before the government decided to take it.
He was starting to doubt himself, maybe she had a point. Was wealth more important than people? Maybe the people who loved the land would do a better job of managing than the government, or Coleson Mineral. Right now, he’d give it all up just to make this right again.
13
Discovery
When word spread among park personnel that a small clue had been discovered, almost everyone converged on the area to search for Patty. Volunteers and rangers combed the meadow, trail
s, and the river. Several climbed the nearly vertical walls into the deep ravines and crevices that rose above them.
On horseback, Paul and Doug rode further west toward El Capitan, crossing the valley from Yosemite Falls to Bridal Veil Falls and back again. The radios were quiet, the only report was about some empty stew cans near where the necklace was found.
“Let’s go talk to the climbers,” said Paul, “find out if they’ve seen anything.”
Doug looked at Paul, considering the idea. “So far this hasn’t been made public, if we go questioning the climbers, news will travel fast.”
“Yeah, but by now they already know something’s up. We better get there before they skedaddle up the face of El Cap.”
A small encampment of climbers was always present at the base of El Capitan. Almost a commune, climbers came and went, living in the park, and climbing until rangers ran them off for staying too long. They were allowed to camp for one week. But if they were hassled, climbers would leave for a short time, or climb up the sheer face of the rock and hang out for a while.
The two rangers rode into camp among a frenzy of activity as climbers gathered their gear for a quick exit. “Don’t worry guys—we aren’t here to chase you off. We just want to chat,” called Doug. Tying their horses nearby, the rangers sat down at one of the campfires.
They were welcomed as old friends since it wasn’t an official visit. A short, wiry young man dressed in spandex offered them some supper. Doug and Paul’s eyes met when they saw the open can of stew balanced on some rocks, warming in the campfire.
“No thanks Bobby, we were just wondering if you’d seen Patty Waters lately?”
“Patty? Um no—I haven’t. I thought she was assigned to the office now. She hasn’t been around here for a couple of months.” Others around the campfire mumbled in agreement. “It’d be cool if she was assigned out here again,” Bobby said with a grin, “she’s a cute little spitfire!”