"When William Brewer crossed this valley with the United States Geological Survey Team in 1860 he didn't like it much. As I recall, he complained that the ride was long and tedious with no water except one stinking sinkhole, as he put it." Malden waved at the vast panorama of green. "He'd be shocked to see it now."
They turned where they had the previous day at the twin-spired Sisquoc Chapel toward the Rancho Sisquoc Winery. At the Sisquoc River crossing they drove down the bank and across the dry riverbed.
"Where's the river?" Eagle Feather said.
Malden glanced at him. "It's there. It's deep underground. Dig down ten or twelve feet and you'll find water. We'll follow the river a while." he added.
Their road did stay with the river, crossed it several more times along its winding thirsty path. In a mile or so the road climbed away under sandy bluffs, narrowed, hugged the mountainside before it dropped back down to the riverbed. When the river forked, they followed the east branch, into the midst of the high mountains. The scenery was remarkable. The Arizona men were accustomed to spectacular vistas, yet were entranced.
At a point where the width of the riverbed dwindled to no more than a small stream, Malden brought the truck to a stop. "Let's stretch our legs," he said, and climbed out.
Zack took a few steps toward the river. "Hey, look at that. There's water in the creek."
"It's protected from the sun in these deep canyons, and we're nearer the source. But eighty percent of it's still underground." Malden pointed out a canyon just north of them. "Up that way is Rattlesnake Canyon, where Zack and I were yesterday. We're in La Brea Canyon now." He looked at Zack, pointed at a high ridge further left. "You were up there yesterday. You probably looked down at where we are now."
"Are we going to climb up there?"
"No need," Malden said. He pulled his pack out of the truck bed. "The man you tracked yesterday could only have come down here. The trail is in that arroyo there. It crosses this little park." He looked at Zack. "Where was that Chumash guide gonna meet you?"
"Didn't say."
"Well, let's have some water and nose around to see what we can learn."
Zack didn't move for a while, enjoying the surrounding hills. He listened to the bird calls, felt the waking warmth of the sun. Morning light crept into the canyon bit by bit, illuminated places hidden in shadow moments before. Raucous gold poppies and purple lupine staked their claims in patches on high slopes, Fireweed grew in lower meadows. A blue scrub jay cocked his eye at Zack, came to land a few feet away for a closer look.
Eagle Feather put away his water bottle. He walked over to the arroyo, inspected the ground.
Zack joined him. "What do you see?"
Eagle Feather shrugged. "Not much. Nothing recent."
"He doesn't leave much."
"If he came this way at all." Eagle Feather sounded doubtful.
"You heard the man," Zack said. "He had to come this way."
Rick joined them, his pack already slung on his back. "He didn't necessarily come down the trail. He might've stayed high along the edge of the arroyo, bein' cautious."
"True enough." Eagle Feather glanced up at the arroyo bank. "He had to cross this creek bed somewhere, though. I couldn't of done it without a trace."
"Let's follow the trail south. If he went this way, he'd have to cut back onto it somewhere," Zack said. He walked back to the truck for his pack.
Eagle Feather and Malden both nodded, followed him.
"The path is that way." Malden pointed toward a lone eucalyptus tree up the slope.
By unspoken agreement Eagle Feather took the lead, Zack followed and Malden brought up the rear.
"What about your guide?" Malden called up from behind Zack.
Zack turned his head. "Even if the guy we're following doesn't leave traces, we're gonna leave plenty ourselves. I'm pretty sure it won't be a problem for Tommy."
The trail angled south up the side of the ridge. Once they gained the ridge top, the track stayed high. The view west toward the Solomon Hills was impressive.
With no sign to follow, they moved at a quick pace. Eagle Feather studied the sides of the path for any indication their man returned to it. At the end of the ridge, the route divided.
Eagle Feather looked at Malden.
Malden pulled out a topo map, opened it. He held it out for Zack and Eagle Feather to see. "There are two obvious ridge lines here. This one takes you southeast, deep into the range. This one angles more southwest, stays close to the valley."
"What's your guess?" Zack said.
Malden folded the map. "Where did the Chumash guide think he'd go?"
"She mentioned Zaca Mountain."
"In that case, he'll most likely take the southwest ridge."
"Zaca Mountain?" Eagle Feather said.
"Zaca Lake and Zaca Mountain are special places to the Chumash," Zack said. "They guard the front range of the mountains."
"Why would this killer want to go to a Chumash sacred place?"
Zack shrugged. "I got no idea. Tommy seems to think this protective presence, as she called it, may have some sort of connection to the ancients."
"We'd better head out." Malden stuffed the map back in his pack.
They moved on. An hour later the sun blasted the ridge. The shade of trees they passed under came as a relief. They still had no evidence to support their belief the killer had gone this way at all.
At a saddle between two ridges Malden called a stop. "How about a sandwich?"
Just off the trail where several trees offered shade, a flat rock made a table. It felt almost cold after the sun.
Zack removed his hat and wiped away sweat.
Malden opened his pack, pulled out sandwiches one by one. "I got turkey, ham, and, uh, let's see...turkey." His phone rang.
"Some wilderness," Eagle Feather said.
Malden looked at the phone. "I got to take this." He walked a few steps away.
Zack munched his sandwich. He could hear enough to know that Malden was doing the listening.
Malden put away the phone and came back. "I don't believe it. They found another grow and they need boots on the ground. I got to go back."
Zack looked at Malden, then at Eagle Feather. "Well, I guess we should carry on, at least a little while."
Malden considered. "Sure, why not. You don't need my authority. But I got to tell you, it seems we're following a will o' the whisp. Don't waste a lot more time."
"How will we get out?" Zack said.
"I'm not taking the truck. The only way to this new grow is hoofing it. I'll meet you at the truck tonight or early tomorrow."
The men shook hands and parted ways.
Zack and Eagle Feather finished their sandwiches in a leisurely fashion, enjoyed the shade and the view off to the east across the range of mountains.
Eagle Feather fixed an eye on Zack. "Partner, I know you got skills, and you say you had a trail, but there's nothin' here. I've not seen even a bent piece of grass."
Zack wiped crumbs from his lips. "I wonder if he took a different path after Tommy and I left his trail yesterday. I––"
"Well, hello there," Eagle Feather said, before Zack could finish. His eyes fixed on a point beyond Zack. "How long you been there?"
Zack whipped his head around. There was Tommy. "Hey, Tommy. I thought you'd be along sooner or later."
"Tommy? But you're a girl," Eagle Feather said, despite himself.
Amused brown eyes regarded him.
Zack stood. "Eagle Feather, meet our Chumash guide, Tomasa..."
"Just Tommy." She nodded to Eagle Feather, looked at Zack. "Don't doubt yourself, Mr. Arizona Tracker. He came this way. I followed him to Zaca Lake."
Zack's eyes widened. "How early did you start out this morning?"
Her smile was gentle, as with a confused child. "I began after you left yesterday."
"But...how did you track in the dark? When did you sleep? What...?"
Eagle Feather considered her f
or a moment. "You followed his scent."
She observed him in return. "Yes."
"What scent," Zack demanded.
"The killer has his own particular scent," Eagle Feather said. "I caught it once or twice, but without other evidence, I dismissed it," He glanced at Tommy, returned to Zack. "Darkness can help rather than hinder you when you follow a scent trail. It forces your brain to prioritize that one sense."
"But you didn't sleep? Or eat?"
She raised her eyebrows. "I took care of myself. Thank your for your concern." She regarded Zack's friend. "Why Eagle Feather?"
"I was given that name by a group of hunters I guided a long time ago. It stuck."
"What is your tribe?" she said.
Eagle Feather gave a mischievous grin. "Jewish, mostly...and some Navajo."
"Eagle Feather is my partner back at the Reservation," Zack said. "His father was Jewish and his mom Navajo. That's why he's...different."
"You think we should give it up; he's gone already," Eagle Feather said, ready to change the subject.
Tommy nodded.
"He disappeared at this Zaca Lake?" Zack said.
She nodded again. "He must have been there some time yesterday. He probably used the lake to hide his scent, he could be anywhere now."
"We might as well turn back, in that case," Zack said. He felt a bit let down.
They gathered up their things, slung on the packs, and turned back along the ridge trail. Tommy led off at a good pace, the men followed several yards behind.
"She always that antisocial?" Eagle Feather said in a grumbled whisper.
"I think she's shy, she doesn't know you yet." Zack gave a fatuous grin. "If she did, she'd be even farther ahead."
"Keep it up, White Man, keep it up."
Zack pulled up. Ahead, Tommy was stopped, listening. They heard it now, a rifle shot. Two more sounded in rapid succession.
"Those were up ahead, toward the truck," Zack said
Eagle Feather nodded. His face showed concern.
"Malden," Zack said. He began to jog. Eagle Feather ran with him. Tommy let them pass. The ridge evaporated under their rapid steps. They came to the ridge end where it fell away into the river valley.
Eagle Feather grabbed Zack's arm. "You packin'?"
"Just a handgun."
"That was rifle fire. Don't let's rush into anything."
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Zack and Eagle Feather scuffled and slid down the steep trail. Five minutes later they entered the shaded tree-filled arroyo that opened to the riverbed where they'd left Malden's truck. Zack heard no further shots, knew he might have missed one in the noise of their travel. One came now––loud, staccato, echoed off the canyon walls. The men stopped, listened. It was not repeated, they moved ahead.
Eagle Feather touched Zack's arm. "Wait. Where's Tommy?"
Zack looked behind. She was gone. "I don't blame her. I'm sure a gun fight was not part of her agreement."
They pressed on. Moments later the arroyo opened to the narrow river valley. The truck sat on the far side of the riverbed, about a hundred yards away on open sandy ground. Nearer them, by fifty yards, was a driftwood log, no more than two feet high. Malden was scrunched behind it. Another shot sounded, a chip of wood flew off the top of the log. They heard the thunk when the bullet hit the wood.
The men crouched behind cover.
"He's pinned down," Eagle Feather said.
"That one came too close. Someone has him zeroed in." Zack cupped his hands and yelled. "Malden. You okay?"
Malden turned, looked. Another shot thunked into the log. Malden made himself smaller, adjusted his body to face them. He pointed to his right leg.
"He's hit," Eagle Feather said. "He can't make a run for it. Looks like it's up to us."
Zack studied the grassy slope on the far side of the canyon. A ribbon of trail led up into some trees. The rifle fire seemed to come from up there. He took off his pack, took out his bottle and had a long pull of water. Then he was up, running low out into the open, yelling at Malden as he ran. "Stay there, Malden. Don't move."
Eagle Feather yelled after him. "Are you crazy...?"
A puff of dirt flew up near Zack's foot. Staying low as he ran, Zack changed direction. He heard the whir of a bullet pass close, another rifle report. He turned and ran back toward Eagle Feather. Dust spit up near his feet. When he was close enough he launched himself behind the cover of some brush, scrambled behind a tree. Bullets came like hard rain into the brush he had just left.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Eagle Feather's customary calm had dissolved.
Zack glanced at him from behind the tree, grinned. "I had to take pressure off Malden. Now the shooter knows he has to deal with more than one person." Zack breathed hard, looked across at the far trees. "Can you tell if there's more than one up there?"
"So far just one rifle." Eagle Feather peered from behind his cover. "My guess is just the one shooter. If there'd been more, they all would have unloaded on you."
Zack, still breathing hard, nodded.
"If there had been more than one, they'd have got you." Eagle Feather muttered under his breath. "Crazy White Man."
It was quiet now, a bit unnerving for Zack after his mad scramble. His heart thumped. While he caught his breath he considered the situation. The shooter was deliberate and accurate. He'd hit the log twice, and he'd hit Malden. He missed Zack only because Zack changed direction at the right moment; he was sure a bullet would have hit him had he not. He dug in his pack for his handgun, attached the holster to his belt. He found his phone and called Barnard, the only local number he had in memory.
Barnard was shocked. "You're what? Where? Malden is hit? Christ! What did you guys stir up out there? Yes, of course, right away. Jesus!" He rang off to organize a rescue.
There had been no more shots since Zack's run. He called out. "Rick! Can you hear me?"
He saw Malden stir. A hand waved.
"Listen, Rick. Don't move. Help is on the way." Rick nodded. Zack spoke to Eagle Feather. "I'm gonna work around behind him."
Eagle Feather shook his head. "It'll take you all day. You'll have to go way up the valley to get across the river, and you'll have to stay behind cover the whole way. If he's in those trees, he's got a great view up and down this river."
"He might be gone by now," Zack pointed out. "He knows there's at least one more of us."
"Are you gonna do another crazy run to find out?"
Zack grinned and studied the slopes across the river. He needed a better fix on the shooter. He had a general idea of the direction of the bullets. There were limited options for concealment across the river at the range the rifleman needed for accuracy, maybe a thousand yards or so. He doubted the sniper had a scope and stand; that would be a lot to haul around these mountains. Say a maximum of 1200 yards. That logic placed the rifleman in those trees where the trail disappeared, as he had first thought.
Zack leaned around his tree. "You're right, man. There's not enough cover to do a run around. Let's show him there's two of us, make him believe we're gonna work around behind him. That might force him to withdraw."
"How we gonna do that?"
Zack picked up a baseball size rock, studied the slope on his side of the arroyo. There were stands of Mazanitis. It was the way Zack would go if he tried to work behind the shooter. He picked a spot, stood up behind his tree for more power, threw the rock at the slope. He watched the trees across the river. There was a glint of light. Dust spurted right where Zack's rock had landed. The rifle report came moments later.
Eagle Feather's rock landed in some brush on the slope on his side of the arroyo, making it sway slightly. There was no shot.
Zack smiled to himself. The sniper would now be thinking some serious thoughts. He'd know now there were at least two of them, think they were circling behind him from two different directions. His eye traveled back to Malden behind the log. Rick's head was angled back toward them. He seemed all r
ight so far. He'd be getting thirsty, though. Zack hoped the leg wound wasn't too bad.
There was no further sign of the rifleman. Their wait lasted another 45 minutes until they heard the sound of an approaching helicopter. It came right up the river, hovered over Malden, and landed on the riverbed between Rick and the rifleman's position. Zack used the dust and flying sand as a screen to run to Malden.
Rick tried to stand.
Zack got there and supported him. "Where are you hit?"
Malden pointed to his right thigh. A large dark stain soaked his pants. "It's the muscle of my thigh. Hurts like hell, but I can move the leg."
Another forest ranger sprinted up. "Rick, are you okay?" he said.
"I'll live to protect the forest another day." Malden gestured to Zack. "Jeremy, meet Zack. Over there is Eagle Feather. This here is Jeremy Tusco, my other half." Rick's face twisted with pain. "I didn't expect you guys would meet under these conditions."
Jeremy was a large beefy man with deer-brown eyes and a black beard. "Hey," he said, and grabbed hold of Malden. "Rick, there's a first aid kit in the bird. We can help you with the pain when we get you there." He wrapped a big arm around him and half carried him toward the helicopter.
Zack and Eagle Feather watched.
"You coming?" Malden yelled back over his shoulder.
"Nope." Zack had to yell over the noise of the blades. "This guy pissed me off."
They watched Jeremy help Malden up into the helicopter. A moment later, Tusco came back to Zack, a rifle in his hand. "I'll send some help along," he said. "Don't do anything crazy until they get here. Meanwhile, you might need this." He handed him the rifle and a box of shells. "I'm sure you know what to do with it."
"We'll figure it out."
Jeremy ran back and the copter rose in a cloud of sand grit, angled back down the river.
"If you'd be so kind as to go get the packs, I'll make sure nobody disturbs your walk." Zack lay down behind the log, sighted the rifle, and sent a bullet into the thicket where he'd seen the metallic glint. Nothing happened. There was no further indication of anyone in the trees.
Eagle Feather returned with the packs. Zack took his and shouldered it, handed the rifle to Eagle Feather. They walked over to the trail that wound up the slope, climbed toward the trees. Eagle Feather kept the rifle trained there, although both knew the rifleman was long gone. He'd have given up the minute he heard the chopper.
ZACA (Zack Tolliver FBI) Page 11