The next morning, just before lunch time, he was hard pressed to keep up the light heartedness. He was alone again in the field. No surprise there, and he stood at the edge of a yawning ravine with steep rock sides that went straight down for more than thirty feet and then fifty feet or so ahead, it went straight back up the same way. There was no way he was going to get him and his equipment across that without turning into a very large bird.
The discouragement he'd been fighting for weeks threatened to overwhelm him. "Great. Just great." He stood there wanting to swear like a sailor. He looked up the little canyon and then down wondering which way looked more promising as far as finding a way down and back up that wasn't so steep. Neither direction gave him much hope of success.
He set down his gear and shrugged out of his pack, and went left down along the lip of the ravine. When he'd gone more than a quarter of a mile and it had only gotten worse, he turned and went back to scout the other direction. Another quarter mile's hike revealed nothing more than a small winding canyon with steep rock walls around every bend. He went back to his pack and stood and looked around.
This was it then. This was the end of it all. The hope of making a chunk of money and the loss of all the long hours he had put in here in the desert day after day by himself. Admitting defeat after trying so hard to pull this thing together without help made him want to be sick. He leaned down and dug into the side pocket of his pack to find his phone. There wasn’t much left to do but call the helicopter and tell the pilot to come and get him for the last time. He found the phone and pulled it out and was scrolling down to find the number when he heard the far off sound of her whistle.
He looked up and turned around to see where the sound was coming from, but there was nothing. No sound, no dust, nothing, for more than a minute. Then he heard it again, closer, behind him and to the left. He set his pack back down and walked over to a point on the lip of the ravine that was higher than the rest and looked back toward where the sound had come from.
She was there, behind the herd, giving the dogs directions to guide the sheep that were strung out for hundreds of yards across the desert. The first of the herd began to spill over the ridge that was on his left, skirted the edge of the canyon below him and went on past him down the edge of the ravine. The sheep split around the point and passed by on both sides of him to continue in their trek to wherever it was she was taking them. He watched her come, wishing he had grabbed his camera out of his pack before climbing up here. The rugged country and the sheep with the dogs and the beautiful girl on the striking horse would have been fascinating images caught on film.
It took her more than half an hour after the first sheep had gone past him to reach the point where he stood watching. She had just about reached him when he realized he was hearing sheep bleat on the other side of the steep ravine. For a second he thought there must have been another herd on the other side that had wondered near, but then he heard her whistle and signal her dogs on the far side.
He'd been so focused on watching her that he hadn't even realized that somehow the sheep had found a way to cross the steep walled little canyon. He spun to look up to where the sheep were disappearing around the bend, but could see nothing. He turned back around toward her just in time to come face to face with a huge, white dog that was just now snarling at him and threatening to have him as a lunch appetizer. The hundred and sixty pound dog was slowly advancing and Matt looked around for an escape route or at least something to defend himself with. There was nothing and he was just starting to try and remember if he had ever heard of the best way to fend off an attacking dog the size of Cincinnati when he heard her call the great beast off.
"Zeus! No! Go on!" She whistled and did something with her hand to wave the dog off and he obeyed immediately, leaving Matt to breathe a sigh of relief. He wasn't typically afraid of dogs, but her Zeus was far bigger than any wolf he had ever seen in his life. And he'd seen a number of them in his travels.
He turned back to her at the sound of her voice as she said, "Sorry. I didn't realize he was so close. He gets a little protective of me."
Yeah, just a little. That was the understatement of the year. Up close, she was even prettier than she had been at a distance, which the other day he hadn't thought possible.
He was surprised when she spoke. She didn't sound anything like the other Native Americans he had seen while he'd been working out here. She didn't look anything like any he'd ever seen either. He tried not to stare at her when she walked her horse up to him, stopped several feet away and paused to look all around them. Almost all of her sheep had moved on down the canyon in front of them, and he wondered that she was stopping to talk to him. He would have thought a lone woman this far from anyone would be hesitant to approach a stranger very close. Then he noticed she had a rifle in the scabbard that hung from her saddle and a handgun in a holster clipped to her belt. For just a second he wondered if he was the one in trouble.
After noticing all the firepower, he looked up into her face, and he was surprised to see that she had startlingly blue eyes instead of the deep brown, almost black ones that most Indians had. Just now those eyes were taking him all in in a glance that seemed to sum him up in an instance as she said, "I'm sorry, I didn't realize your pack was back there, or I'd have sent them around it. I hope there wasn't anything too terribly fragile in it."
He looked away from her eyes to glance back at his pack. It had been directly in the path of about half of her sheep and definitely showed signs of having been trampled. "Uh, well actually." He looked back at her. It wasn't her fault he'd left it laying there. "It'll be okay. I shouldn't have left it laying there."
"Were you looking for something? I saw you walking up and down the wash."
He hadn't realized anyone was anywhere near when he'd been walking. Answering, he said, "Actually, I was looking for a way to cross this thing without repelling. Your herd of sheep feels like a gift from heaven just now. How did they get across?"
"There's a sheep bridge down there." She nodded to where the last of her sheep were disappearing around the bend. "There are several around here."
He'd never heard of a sheep bridge, but he figured if a sheep could cross it, so could he. "You have no idea how many problems you just solved for me. I'm working on a seismic crew here. I've seen you before back over to the east."
"You have a crew with you? I haven't seen anyone but you. And the helicopter. How many more of you are walking around out here?"
He wondered when she had seen him and the helicopter, but only said, "Actually, I'm usually the only one out here, but there are three other guys out here occasionally."
"What is it you're doing?"
“Seismic petroleum exploration, but what I do is completely environmentally friendly, I promise. Once I'm gone, there's nothing left behind to show I've been here."
She glanced over toward the disappearing herd. "That's good to know. Good luck with your project. It was nice to meet you." With that she turned her horse and loped off in the direction of her sheep, whistling to her dogs across the way as she went. He went to inspect the damage to his pack, wishing he’d at least gotten her name. Up close he was more amazed to find a woman like her in a place like this than ever. She hadn't sounded to him like a back country native.
On checking over his pack, he found that other than a number of little, stinky, green sheep droppings that had gotten inside it, it was relatively unscathed. One of his lunch sandwiches had a distinct little split hoof track in it, but the plastic baggie had remained intact, so he figured he'd just eat it anyway.
He picked up the rest of his gear and began to hike in the direction she and her sheep had gone and only a hundred yards or so beyond the point of the ravine he had scouted to, he found her sheep bridge. It was made of cable strung across with a board floor and sides fenced with wire. Looking at it, he'd have thought getting an animal to set foot on it would have been quite a trick, but apparently not. She'd even taken her horse across it withou
t any problems.
He could see her in the distance among the sheep on the far hill, and looked around to see where her trailer was. It had been moved and was actually not far across the valley from the motel as the crow flies. Getting to it from a road would be another story. She was still a long way from civilization out here.
He found himself whistling as he worked for the balance of the afternoon. Her appearance had indeed been like a gift from some greater power. His project wasn't toasted after all, at least not for a few more days. Even Stacy trying to call him didn't squelch his good mood. He didn't answer his phone.
Back at the motel that night, the other crew members were in even worse shape than usual and Matt guessed that they had been dabbling in something stronger than beer this time. He finished his work in his own motel room and then went down to his Jeep and got his guitar out. He thought about taking it back to his room and decided against it. He knew how much he regretted being disturbed when he was trying to sleep, and he'd hate to do that to someone else.
Instead he climbed the small gravel rise that had been thrown up behind the motel when it had been built, and headed out into the rocky, brush covered flat beyond. When he thought he was far enough out to not bother anyone, he sat on a boulder and began to quietly play some old Jackson Brown stuff and occasionally sang along. Eventually he switched to playing some instrumental things he had written himself that just fit his mellow mood, and then played one or two more by John Denver before calling it a night. It had been too long since he'd taken the time to play like this.
The next morning, he was pleasantly surprised to find that all three of the others were actually going into the field with him that day. He had no idea what had spurred this, and none of the three looked like they felt very good, but he certainly wasn't going to complain. If they'd get back on board with him, the contract had every chance of being completed on time. They split up into sets of twos once off the chopper and Matt was mildly grateful to have gotten stuck with the least offensive of the three. They worked together well and got a surprising amount of work done in one day.
During the afternoon, he heard what sounded like a gunshot, and he wondered why someone would be shooting out there. When they met back up that evening to board the helicopter to fly back to the hotel, he found out what the shot had been. He was completely disgusted to learn that Hyatt and Greg had gotten close enough to the sheepherder woman to realize she was female and they had decided to "go have a little fun with an Indian squaw".
What they told him next helped him feel somewhat better. Apparently the two had started toward her and over the course of the afternoon had tried several times to get close to her, but she had changed directions and gotten too far away on her horse every time. Finally, she had apparently had enough of them and had gotten off her horse and gotten a dead rest on a rock and taken a shot at them. She'd hit the two quart Nalgene bottle Hyatt had strapped to the top of his back pack that was sitting beside him at the time and shattered it in their faces. Both of them were sporting cuts from the flying shards, and neither one of them had had enough water for the last of the afternoon and they weren't happy.
They were going on about what they were going to do when they finally did get their hands on her and Matt interrupted them with a thought. "If she could shoot well enough to shatter your water bottle, hadn't you better think twice about bothering her again? Next time she might shatter something more manly. Not only that, Native Americans are a sovereign nation. You don't want to be messing with them."
Hyatt sounded skeptical. "What does that mean?"
Wayne, the one who had been with Matt all day, pitched in, "It means they don't have to get permission from the American police to kill you, you dumb pineapple. Don't you go making these guys mad out here, Hyatt. You're liable to get us into a world of hurt. I don't want the whole tribe of them breathing down our necks, so leave the girl alone. And don't you read Louis L'Amour? The hero always shoots holes in the bad guy’s canteens to warn them off before he has to finally kill them. Use half a brain and lay off."
He emphasized the last with several interesting expletives, and Matt hoped Hyatt got the message; although he shuddered to think what would happen if someone truly did get close to her. That dog of hers would eat them alive. At any rate, he was glad none of them had gotten close enough to her to see how beautiful she was. If they had, he didn't think their warnings would have stopped them.
He thought about what Wayne had said about the canteens. He didn't think the Indian nation thing worked quite the way he'd explained, but hey, Louis L'Amour would be proud!
Chapter 8
When the guys had shown up for work, he had hoped it meant they were going to get back on board to get the contract wrapped up, but it wasn't to be. They showed up for two days in a row, and then were back to hanging out partying all night. He knew for a fact that they were indeed messing around with drugs because they weren't even trying to hide it in their conversations around him. If he hadn't desperately hoped they would clue in and come back to work, he would have turned them in to the police himself.
The country he was working in was more rugged than ever and one evening when he couldn't even begin to plan out an attack route for the next day, he stood on a high point over looking a veritable maze of washes and canyons wishing that a beautiful sheepherder would miraculously appear. He had a thought. Maybe instead of her appearing, he could go to her. As he stood there, he decided he was going to go back to the sheepherder girl and ask for some help. He wasn't sure how he could get anywhere near her without becoming Zeus food, but he was going to try. After dinner that night, he grabbed a couple of folded maps and some brownies he had brought up from the cafe, and set out across the rocky flat toward her sheep camp more than a mile away.
At first he stumbled around in the dark, but his eyes soon grew accustomed and the half moon lit the trail enough that he crossed the flat with less trouble than he'd thought. He began to sweat a little as he got closer to her small fire. He was worried about that dog. It had already started to growl, low and deep in its throat.
He shouldn't have been worried about the dog; he should have been worried about her. He was still forty feet out in the brush when he heard that unmistakable cha chink of a shotgun as she jacked a shell into the chamber from wherever she stood somewhere out in the deepest dark away from the fire. The sound made him stop dead still in his tracks and put both hands out where she wouldn’t be able to miss them. Talk about your Louis L'Amour! The thought of being at the point of a shotgun tightened his gut. The growling dog was coming closer and he hastened to call out to her, "Hello the camp. I'm friendly, I swear. It's Matt Maylon. I met you a couple days ago out by that sheep bridge."
"What do you want?"
"I was wondering if you could help me figure out how to get through the maze of these washes and ravines. Your sheep bridge the other day was a lifesaver. Have you got a minute? I brought you some brownies to sort of bribe you into talking to me."
"Who's with you?"
"I'm alone. You can see that. I would never bring those slime balls to your camp. Actually, I try not to spend one more minute than I have to with any of them. I don't hang around them unless we're working."
"Come on in to the fire, but watch yourself."
"I'm watching. I promise." He could still hear the dog snarling as it approached him, and he only let out a sigh of relief when she called the dog off just as it was within a few feet of him. As a guard dog he was the ultimate in effective.
Slowly, and with his hands held out, he advanced into the circle of her fire's light and stopped. He looked around, but she still wasn't anywhere to be seen, and he wondered if she still held a shotgun on him. Her camp was a cool set up complete with a small table and folding chair next to the fire, and what looked like a small porch swing that hung from the side of her trailer. Zeus was walking around him sniffing and he waited, wondering if he was going to get a chunk taken out of the side of one leg any s
econd now. Somewhere out there in the dark he could hear her horse eating and the faint sounds of a large number of sheep.
He stood there looking around for what felt like several minutes before she stepped from the deepest shadows near the trailer. On foot, she was taller than he had thought, and as graceful as a cat, even in her jeans and simple knit shirt. He was relieved to notice that the barrel of the gun was pointed skyward at the moment. She kept her eyes on him and then seemed to have made a decision of some sort, because she leaned the shotgun against the side of the trailer and turned to light the little lantern that sat on the small table. As she lit it, he noticed she had a splint of some kind on her left hand and ring finger. When the lantern was glowing brightly, she turned to him and asked, "What is it you want to know?"
"I'm trying to find the best way through this rough stuff for my seismic work." What he really wanted to know was what in the heck a woman like her was doing in a situation like this? And what was the strange set up with the two garbage cans suspended on the pipe frame off to the side of her trailer?
Advancing to the table, he set the plastic wrapped brownies down and spread one of the maps out on its surface in the light of the lantern. She bent to look at the map and the light glistened off the hair she wore in a ponytail that hung part of the way down her back. He was flat out amazed when he caught the scent of apples or berries or he wasn't even sure what, when she leaned beside him. How could a woman who lived like this, look and even smell good?
He mentally shook himself and tried to focus on the map in front of them. She didn't look at the map very long, before she stood back up and went around to put another piece of wood onto her fire. She reached inside the trailer and picked up a zip sweatshirt, put it on and then sat down in the folding canvas chair between the fire and the table.
Disappointment wrestled with disbelief when she said, "I'm sorry. I don't know much about the country out in front of me. I've been told a little bit about where to go to take the sheep, but I'm not even sure where all the sheep bridges are. The guys who own the sheep just tell me what I need to know from time to time to keep them in feed and close enough to water. They would know what to tell you. Leave your phone number and when one of them is out this way, I'll have them call you."
The Sage After Rain A love story Page 5