by D P Lyle
Five minutes of trudging along the creek bank brought the low cinder block building into view through the fluttering leaves of the aspens. Jonathon grabbed Oscar by his collar to prevent the dog from exposing them with his wild galloping. They squatted in the grass and surveyed the area.
Nothing. No one. Perfect.
Oscar broke free and charged toward the building, but became distracted by a bright yellow butterfly and leaped and spun in this new pursuit.
The twins eased from the shadows, Jeremy leading the way, and approached the rectangle of gray cinder block. It seemed quietly sinister but less menacing than what their imaginations had conjured.
Still, Jeremy’s heart thumped against his chest as he neared the structure. He carefully touched the rough wall, quickly jerking his hand away as if he expected a shock or something equally painful. Feeling nothing, he rubbed his fingers along the wall as he circled the lab. Two horizontal, narrow rectangular windows, which stretched just beneath the roofline along each side, and a single door broke the monotony of the concrete.
As he rounded the last corner, returning to where he had started, he saw Jonathon, fingers hooked in the recess of one of the windows, sneakers clawing against the cinder block wall, attempting to pull himself up enough to get a peek inside. Jeremy laced his fingers and boosted his brother upward.
Jonathon cupped one hand over his eyes. “I can’t see anything,” He jumped to the ground.
“Come on,” Jeremy said. “There’s a door around the other side.”
They ran around the building until they approached the gray metal windowless door with “No Trespassing” stenciled in black. A heavy padlock hung beneath the door handle.
Jeremy grasped it and yanked. It popped open, startling them both.
“It’s not locked,” Jonathon said.
Jeremy examined it more closely. “No. It’s broken. Look. Somebody’s jimmied it.” He twisted the lock and slid it free. “You want to see what’s inside?”
“Yeah.”
“OK. You go first,” Jeremy said.
“No way, dude. You first.”
“Chicken.”
“Look who’s talking, you weenie,” Jonathon fired back. “Besides, your older.”
That was true. By all of two minutes.
Jeremy pushed on the door. The hinges squealed as it swung open. The twins froze, neither venturing the first step inside.
“OK,” Jeremy said. “I got the door open. You have to go inside first.”
Jonathon leaned in and looked both ways. “I can’t see anything. It’s too dark.”
“Is there a light switch?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, look and see,” Jeremy said.
“You look if you want to know so bad.” Jonathon took a step back.
“What a wimp.” Jeremy hooked one arm around the doorjamb and slid his hand along the inside wall. He found a switch and flipped it. Fluorescent ceiling lights flickered to life.
They stepped inside. Before them lay a bewildering array of scientific equipment. At least a dozen tables held electronic gadgets that looked like something from a sci-fi movie. Along the far wall, sat two-dozen empty cages.
“What is all this?” Jonathon asked.
“How do I know? It’s creepy though.”
Jeremy walked among the tables, careful not to touch anything, eyes wide with a combination of wonder and fear. The only devices he recognized were two computers, which sat on a desk in one corner.
“I wonder what those are for?” Jonathon asked, indicating the cages.
“I don’t know, but I’m getting out of here,” Jeremy said.
They hurried out the door, shoved it closed, and repositioned the lock as best they could.
“Where’s Oscar?” Jonathon said. “Oscar?” he yelled.
They heard the dog yelping and snorting, around the corner, toward the back of the building. They hurried to where Oscar was digging furiously beneath an elderberry shrub.
“What is it, boy?” Jonathon said.
Oscar ignored him, attacking the soft ground with both paws, dirt flying. Something white flew out with the dirt and landed near their feet. Jeremy picked it up. He turned it over, brushing it with his fingers.
“What’s that?” Jonathon asked.
“A bone. Something's buried in there.”
The boys crawled under the shrub with Oscar and all three began shoveling dirt. They uncovered a dozen bones and a small animal skull.
“What do you think it is?” Jonathon asked.
“”Maybe a raccoon or something.”
“Cool. Maybe it’s a bob cat or a whistle pig,” Jonathon said, using the local name for a marmot, whose shrill whistle could often be heard echoing among the peaks.
“I know who’ll know,” Jeremy said. “Dr. Proctor.”
“Yeah. Let’s ask him.”
They gathered up the bones and hauled Oscar away from his excavating beneath the elderberry. They returned to their bikes and pedaled toward Proctor’s Veterinary Clinic.
Chapter 34
Sam sat astride Storm and followed Burt up the slope. They wound through the trees, until they reached the Old Watkin’s Mine, where Burt had last seen Billy. Sam swallowed hard when she saw the dead horse. Flies circled and buzzed around the carcass and feasted on the two gaping wounds left by whoever had hacked out the chunks of meat.
“This is where we saw him,” Burt said, pointing toward where Billy had run into the forest. “Found Ted back down the slope a few hundred yards and Walt inside the mine.”
Sam looked back down the hill and then at the mine. From her brief examination of the bodies back at the hospital, it appeared to her that both men had been killed by a blow to the head. At least, no other injury was apparent. No gunshot or knife wounds. She thought back to her encounter with Billy in the forest that day. He didn’t have a rifle or a handgun that she had seen. A knife, but no gun.
“I assume Walt and Ted were armed?” she asked.
“Sure.”
“So you think Billy ambushed Ted. Maybe Walt saw him whack Ted, took after him, followed him into the mine, and Billy jumped him.”
“That makes the most sense. Looked like Walt was hit from behind.”
Sam pointed down at the horse carcass. “And then what? He cut out a couple of chunks of horse meat and had lunch?”
Burt didn’t respond.
Sam shook her head. “It just doesn’t fit. Why would Billy, who apparently knows these hills better than anyone and could disappear in a minute, ambush two armed men?”
“Because he’s crazy,” Burt said.
Storm pawed at the ground as if eager to move on, put distance between him and his dead stable mate. Sam stroked the side of his neck. “Or maybe, Billy thought they were trying to kill him.”
Burt looked at her, his eyes narrowing slightly, but he said nothing.
“Were they?” Sam asked.
“What are you saying?” Burt said.
“I’m not saying anything. I’m asking. What were Ted and Walt doing this morning?”
“Tracking the bear that scared Shelby. Protecting my livestock.”
Liar, she wanted to shout. She also wanted to knock his teeth into his lungs. Instead, she said, “I see.”
Burt backed Allegro up a step and turned toward her. “Why are you so convinced that Billy’s innocent?”
Sam shrugged. “Gut feeling,” she said. “”Besides, so far the case against him is a lot of smoke, but no real fire.”
Murph rode up, dogs in tow. “You ready to get going?” he asked Burt.
“Yeah,” Burt said.
Murph dismounted, opened his saddlebag, pulled out a pair of boots, tied together by their laces, and dropped them in front of the dogs. They immediately began nuzzling and sniffing them. Sam recognized them as one of the pairs she had seen earlier on Billy’s porch.
“Where’d you get those?” she asked.
Murph gave her a sideways
glance. “I stopped by Billy’s on the way over. Needed something for Lady and Tramp to scent off of.”
Sam guessed the Fourth Amendment didn’t mean much up here. She looked at Wade. “Is that legal? Taking something from his home like that?”
Wade smiled. “We’re looking for a murderer. Or a wounded man. Trying to save his life. Take your pick” He glanced at Burt. “I guess either’d make it OK.”
An uneasy sensation rose in Sam’s gut. This was becoming more a lynch mob than a search party. And maybe Walt and Ted had been on a similar mission. As if to confirm her feelings, Burt pulled his rifle from its scabbard and cranked a shell into the chamber.
“We are going to let him give up, aren’t we?” Sam said. “If Billy’s injured, we’re here to help him. Right?”
“If that’s what he wants,” Burt said. “If not, we’ll have to deal with him. He’s a murder suspect and a fugitive.” His eyes cut toward Wade for a brief second and then back to Sam. “Don’t worry. If we can corner him, he’ll give up. Billy’s not that stupid.”
Murph led the way, Lady and Tramp out front on two long leashes. The dogs worked as a team, back and forth, heads down, nostrils testing everything. They apparently sensed something, because they let out low yelps and turned into the trees, tugging against their tethers. The makeshift posse followed Murph as his dogs lead them deeper into the forest.
“Let’s spread out,” Burt said. “A hundred yards between us. Billy’s smart. He’ll know we’ve brought the dogs in. He might’ve laid a scent trail and then back-tracked, hoping we’d go right by him.”
Sam and Burt moved to the right, Eloy and Wade left. Carlos stayed with Murph and the dogs. Sam slipped further to Burt’s right, higher up the slope, and fell 50 yards behind him. Far enough to be out of his line of fire, but close enough to know where he was at all times. She soon lost sight of him, but could hear his horse rustling through the trees.
She couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in her gut. She reached back and touched her gun, assuring herself it was still there. Would she need it? Would Burt actually try to gun down Billy if given the chance? She felt her only hope of preventing that was to stay behind, but close, to Burt.
For 45 minutes, they searched, the dogs leading them eastward, deeper into the valley, the occasional yelp escaping their droopy jowls. Near the tree line, Sam passed two more abandoned mines. One had a dilapidated 20-foot wooden tower-like structure topped with two rusted pulley wheels and hoist cable fragments protecting its entrance. Two equally rusted rails led into its dark interior. From its mouth, a pile of rubble, the flotsam and jetsam of the miners’ search for gold or silver, cascaded down the slope.
Below and to her left, she caught glimpses of Burt winding his way through the forest. The sun drove its heat into her, glistening her with sweat. She guided Storm down into the trees, welcoming the shade, and continued paralleling Burt’s path.
*
Squatting near the entrance of the mine, high above them, he watched the search party ride by, catching glimpses of them through the trees. Wade, a cigarette hanging from his mouth, and Eloy, sneaking sips of whiskey, while Burt rode high in the saddle just beneath the tree line, his hat pushed back on his head.
He swallowed the last four gulps of water in the bottle he held and watched the parade move on eastward. Maybe Burt would lag behind or slide far enough away from the others that he could get to him. Set his plan in motion.
He tossed the empty bottle aside, slipped from the mine, and descended toward the trees.
*
Sam’s legs and back ached from her morning run and from her effort to remain in the saddle over the uneven terrain. She twisted one way and then the other in an attempt to loosen her tight muscles.
The sudden crack of a rifle echoed through the trees. Sam jerked Storm to a halt. Which direction? She couldn’t tell. The echo seemed to come from everywhere. Then a volley of three more shots. Behind and to her right. She wheeled Storm around and headed toward the sound.
She emerged from the trees near the abandoned mine with the crumbling wooden tower she had passed earlier. Burt and Wade rode up at the same time.
Eloy crouched behind a rock and jabbed his rifle barrel at the mine. “He’s in there.” Obviously proud to be the one that found Billy, he glanced at Sam, offering a tobacco-stained grin, and then looked at Burt. “I figured he might back-track on us, like you said, Burt. So, I dropped back and waited. Sure enough, here he come, slipping down this slope, trying to sneak away.”
“Did you hit him?” Wade asked.
Eloy’s head began to bob and he gave Sam another quick glance, before his gaze dropped to his feet. “Didn’t have no clean shot.”
Sam didn’t see very many obstructions. The fifty or so yards between where Eloy stood and the mine entrance was a rock-strewn slope. No trees. No boulders. Eloy must have aimed with the wrong eye. Whichever one that was.
Murph, his dogs, and Carlos came out of the trees toward them.
“Is he armed?” Burt asked.
Eloy scratched his chin. “Didn’t see no gun. Could of been one in his pocket, I guess.”
“Let’s see if we can talk him out?” Wade dismounted and walked to the mine’s entrance, careful to stay to the side, out of the line of fire. He pulled his gun, peered around the edge of the opening into the mine, and yelled. “Billy?”
No answer.
“Billy. Come on out. There’s no need for anybody to get hurt.”
Silence.
“Billy? You hear me?”
“I hear you fine.” Billy’s voice rumbled from the mine’s throat.
“Come on. Don’t make this difficult.”
“I don’t see that happening,” Billy said. “You sons-of-bitches have already shot me once. I’m not giving you another chance.”
Sam and Burt stepped up behind Wade.
“He won’t come out on his own,” Burt said. He pulled a gun from his jacket pocket. “Guess we have to go in.”
“No,” Sam said. “Give him a chance. He’s wounded.”
“He didn’t look very hurt to me,” Eloy said. “He moved pretty good, anyway.”
Sam glared at him, fighting the urge to say “Shut up, you moron.” Instead, she grabbed Wade’s arm. “Just give him a chance. Let me talk to him.”
“Go in there? I can’t let you do that.”
“Why not?” Sam asked.
Wade scratched the back of his neck. “Because if he does anything to you, I’m responsible.”
“He won’t.”
“How do you know?” Burt asked.
“A feeling.”
Burt rolled his eyes.
“Look,” Sam said. “What have you really got to lose? You want to attack a man who may be armed and sitting in the dark waiting for you? He’ll be able to see you against the light. You won’t see anything. Except maybe a muzzle flash.”
“But, he’s not armed,” Burt said.
Sam cocked her head to one side and looked at him. “Want to bet your life on it?”
Wade glanced at Burt. “It is a ticklish situation, isn’t it?”
“That brings up plan B,” Burt said.
“Plan B?” Sam asked.
Burt untied Allegro’s right saddlebag and pulled out a bundle wrapped in red paper. He unrolled it, revealing a half a dozen sticks of dynamite. “Plan B,” he announced.
“You’re kidding?” Sam said. This situation was getting completely out of hand. Too much testosterone and not enough brains. “You can’t blow him out of there. You’ll kill him.”
“So?” Burt said, his jaw set. “That’ll save the courts having to convict him.”
Anger boiled up in Sam’s gut. She turned to Wade. “Who’s in charge here?”
“I am,” Wade said.
“Then act like it.” She scanned his face. His eyes cut toward Burt and then back to her. Her jaw tightened and she turned to Burt. “There is no way in hell I’m going to stand here and let you do this.
” She took a step forward, placing herself between Burt and the mine.
Burt’s face relaxed. “Why do you think he’ll talk to you?”
“Because I’ll listen. Because I don’t have an overabundance of testosterone stomping all over my common sense.”
A faint smile lifted the corner of Burt’s mouth. “Have at it.” He waved his hand toward the mine.
Sam turned and stared at the mine. Images of Richard Earl Garrett flooded into her brain. The last mine she had seen was a black hole punched into Granite Mountain, a pile of rocks in the Mojave’s Devil’s Playground. She had hung upside down, nude, hands cuffed, ankles bound, while Garrett prepared her sacrifice.
Get a grip, Sam. Garret’s dead and this is nothing but a hole in the ground.
She shoved Garrett’s image aside, edged to the mine’s entrance, and peeked inside, attempting to ignore her heart as it leaped against her chest. Two rails extended away from her, melting into the thick darkness. Visibility? Twenty feet max. She took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and stepped into the entrance. “Billy. I’m coming in. Alone.”
“Why?” Billy said.
“To talk. Maybe prevent this situation from getting ugly.”
“It’s already ugly.”
“Not completely. But it’s going to be. OK if I come in?”
Billy didn’t answer.
“Billy?” she yelled.
“Just you. Tell Burt nothing funny. I can see every move he makes.”
“Just be cool,” Sam said. She slowly walked toward his voice.
“Follow the rails,” Billy said. “Stay between them and you’ll be fine.”
Sam took a dozen careful steps into the mine, and then stopped, allowing her eyes adjust to the darkness.
“Come ahead,” Billy said.
Sam moved deeper into the dark tunnel. It smelled dank, like wet limestone. And it was cold. She heard water dripping, echoless, flat. Fifty feet further, she stopped again. “Where are you?”
“Here,” he said, startling her. He stood next to her.
“Jesus. You scared me.”
“Sorry.”
“Are you OK? Did you get hit?” she asked.
“Yeah. Left shoulder.”