Eventually Maggie gave in, acknowledging that having a hideout within the hideout wouldn’t hurt anything. That afternoon O’Reilly took Mark and Maggie and headed for the caves at the northern end of the pasture.
When Maggie and Mark first arrived at Hideaway, Mark had been excited by the caves peppering the sides of the canyon. Some were high with no visible way of reaching them, but others were near ground level and Mark was eager to begin exploring. Maggie, however, had laid down the law in regards to possible subterranean exploration. First and foremost, he was never, ever, on pain of death and fear of a furious mother, to enter any of the caves without her. Maggie had no idea what might be in a cave, but those that went further back than could be easily viewed from the entrance stirred in her an ill defined fear that curdled her stomach. She had visions of bears and mountain lions (foolish she told herself), snakes and bats (maybe not so foolish), and dead prospectors whose ghosts were determined to protect their claims (totally, absolutely and unequivocally nutso, cause for immediate commitment to a mental hospital).
Dead prospectors’ ghosts or not, so far Mark had respected his mother’s commands and hadn’t ventured into any of the caves. At least she hoped not. It helped that they’d been so busy just staying alive and fed that free time to go exploring was hard to come by. Now, however, regardless of her fears, the caves were exactly where they were heading and she felt a sudden burning desire for a clove of garlic, a cross, or anything else that might drive the ghosts away.
O’Reilly knew exactly where he was going, apparently, and aimed straight for a small inconsequential hole, near the northern end on the western side of the meadow behind the old orchard. It was about ten feet above ground level, though a steep scree made access possible, if not easy. Near the mouth of the small cave grew a large juniper, roots entwined among several large boulders, all but obscuring the opening unless you knew where to look.
Having scrambled up the loose, rocky slope, the three stood at the entrance, peering into the dusky gloom beyond. Mark was almost jumping out of his skin in excitement, ready to rush into the lead but O’Reilly put out an arm, halting him.
“Slow down, buddy, you don’t want to go ramming around in these caves. They’re filled with side turns, drop offs as well as rock falls.” Maggie’s nervousness ratcheted up a few more notches. “You also need to always know where you’re putting your feet and your hands,” O’Reilly warned. “Rattlesnakes love these places during the hot weather. It keeps them cool during the day time and there are usually a fair number of rodents who wander in here, making for good eating.”
“Maybe we should reconsider,” Maggie started.
“Mom.”
“Well, maybe there’s somewhere safer,” she continued, over Mark’s protest, “and not so... well... so creepy.”
A snort of laughter met her ears, though when O’Reilly turned back to look at her, his face was perfectly straight, dark brown eyes serious.
“Listen, yeah, there are dangers in here, but there’s no where else in this canyon that you have any hope of eluding people who really want to find you.”
“What good does eluding them do if you fall down a shaft and wind up sitting in the middle of a pile of rattlesnakes?” Maggie shot back.
“Well, I don’t know, I guess you could throw snakes at them if they came after you. Either that or make a really nice hatband while you’re waiting to be captured and hauled off to an APZ. If they let you get that far,” he answered sarcastically.
Mark’s head swivelled on his neck as he looked back and forth between the two of them arguing. “Mom, it’s okay. I trust Mr. O’Reilly. He said he and his brother spent a lot of time in these caves when he was a kid. He knows where we’re going.” Mark looked pleadingly at his mother, obviously eager to proceed in spite of the mention of snakes and armed pursuit.
Maggie relented, grudgingly, acknowledging to herself how large a place O’Reilly had already taken in Mark’s life.
Mark’s father had been a hero in his life, and for several months following Mike’s death Mark had spoken of him often, holding up what he thought his father would do in certain situations as proof that they were heading in the right or wrong direction. Over this past week Mike’s name had come up less frequently, and simultaneously “What Would O’Reilly Do?” became Mark’s mantra.
Maggie felt a pang at this change. She understood it. Mike was dead. He could no longer be there to protect them, and in these days of fear and uncertainty Mark needed someone to look to for strength and as a role model. She just missed Mike so much and regretted any thinning of the connection between them.
“Okay, I’m going first,” O’Reilly stated. “Mark you’re second and Maggie, you’re bringing up the rear. Do not go past me. Do not go anywhere I do not go, even if you see something you think is cool. No taking side trips, understand?”
“Yes, sir,” Mark snapped O’Reilly a mock salute that made him smile.
“I spent a lot of time in these caves, but that was over twenty years ago, and there likely have been changes since then, so we’re going to go carefully this first time.”
“How do we keep from getting lost?” Maggie queried.
“Every time we change directions we’ll use loose rocks to make an arrow pointing back in the direction we came from. We’ll have time later to make the markers less obvious once we find where we want to set up camp.” Maggie and Mark nodded in concert and the three ventured into the cool gloom of the cave.
Once past the entrance, it seemed that the ambient temperature dropped at least twenty degrees and Maggie suppressed a slight shiver. O’Reilly proceeded deeper into the cave, heading for the back wall which appeared solid in the dim light. He didn’t hesitate though, and moved to the left around a large rock, and bending down, moved into a small opening which appeared like magic.
The thought passed through Maggie’s mind that anyone giving the cave a cursory inspection might not even venture in as far as the back wall since you could see it from the entrance, and therefore might miss this second opening all together, hidden as it was behind this boulder.
O’Reilly kept a running commentary going while walking. “We need to get a pine or juniper bough here to mask our footprints in the dust and sand. It would need to be kept at the opening and once used, stashed in the inner cave here.
Once past the second opening, the cave abruptly hooked to the left, and seemed to lead back down toward the southern end of the canyon, though exact directions were difficult to determine underground. Although she’d never before been prone to claustrophobia, Maggie began to feel all the tons of earth overhead and her nervousness increased with the darkness. The air was damp, cool and musty with an odor, difficult to describe, but nonetheless unpleasant.
The three of them walked single file for several minutes, moving between small caves and the occasional short tunnel. Gradually all talking ceased, except for the occasional question posed by Mark who seemed to be avidly enjoying this experience. Several times O’Reilly glanced over his shoulder to assure himself that they were all right, and Maggie saw in the soft glow from her flashlight a small smile play around his lips when he looked at Mark’s excited face.
They were just passing through a small cavern replete with fanciful limestone sculptures from the mineral rich water that had formed this underground riverbed, when suddenly from in front of Maggie came a sharp ch-ch-ch-chchchhchchch. Mentally flashing on the rattlesnake (not the ghosts, she assured herself afterward) Maggie let out a brief shriek, tried to grab for Mark and jump backward at the same time.
Proving once again, as she thought later, that she was not cut out to be a dancer, the only part she got right was the shriek, which came out as loud and as high as a train whistle, reverberating off the walls of the small cave. The rest of her moves were closer to those choreographed by the Three Stooges than by any ballroom dancer. She missed her grab at Mark’s shirt, tangled her legs and wound up flat on the floor of the cave, looking up at
the startled face of O’Reilly, and listening to the hysterical laughter of her beloved first born.
Sitting up she saw Mark doubled over laughing, and a growing suspicion began to invade her mind. Eyes narrowing, she looked at O’Reilly, and saw that his surprise was giving way to amusement, though he wasn’t convulsed as was his young companion.
“Mark.” Teeth gritted, glaring at her son, Maggie growled his name with a warning tone that should have sent him running in fear of his life.
The tone and the glare had no noticeable affect on him, and Mark continued to snort and sputter with laughter at the spectacle of his mother sitting on the floor.
The sight of Mark laughing freely began to melt the anger she’d felt after such a scare, though she didn’t lessen the intensity of her stare one iota. “Mark, if you want to live to your next birthday, you are going to come over here right now and help me up. Do you understand?” Maggie spoke in a low voice, full of menace.
“Yes, ma’am,” Mark said in a mock contrite manner, still choking on the laughter that kept bubbling to the surface. He walked over to his mother and held out his hand to assist her to her feet. Maggie reached up her hand, and just as Mark took it, she jerked backward, yanking him off balance and down into her lap. Into his ear she growled, “If you ever, ever scare me that way again, sir, I will personally rub hamburger into your hair and stake you out in front of a mountain lion’s den. Got it?”
The laughter flooded over again, but Mark managed to spit out a second, “Yes, ma’am,” before clambering to his feet and offering her his hand a second time. Maggie accepted and rose to her feet where she faced O’Reilly, who seemingly had enjoyed the interaction between mother and son immensely.
She shot him another glare from slitted eyes, whereupon he struggled to wipe the smile off his face, turned and started walking toward the far entrance of the cave, calling back in gruff tones, “Enough of this goofing around, we’ve got to get going.”
Falling into line behind him, Mark, followed by Maggie, headed out. Every once in a while, however, Maggie swore she could hear a strangled burst of laughter, quickly smothered, and she couldn’t tell if it came from Mark or from O’Reilly.
The pathway they took seemed to be slanting slightly upward, higher into the cliff’s face, and when Maggie questioned him, O’Reilly affirmed that yes, they were moving up toward the plateau. The smooth floor was primarily composed of the solid rock of the mountain, as well as dirt and various stones, from pebbles to large boulders, that had fallen from the roof. Here and there patches of sand glimmered in the yellowish light from the flashlight.
Several times they came upon openings to other caves on the right, or tunnels that led deeper into the ground, but each time they passed by, stopping briefly to make an arrow with some of the small loose rocks scattered along the floor. Finally, after it seemed they had walked for a hundred miles at least, O’Reilly began carefully examining the walls along the left hand side of the cave they were in, obviously looking for something. At one point he shut off his flashlight, bidding the others to do the same. Maggie, expecting that absolute darkness that one finds in caves and mines, was surprised to see a soft glow from somewhere ahead near floor level.
Moving slowly, O’Reilly scanned the floor of the cave, stopping suddenly at a crack in the sandstone next to the wall.
“This is it,” he said triumphantly.
“This is what?” Maggie asked doubtfully.
“Do we go down that hole?” chimed in an excited Mark.
O’Reilly nodded, knelt down on the cave’s floor and began to wriggle into the small opening feet first.
“Wait just a minute, here.”
O’Reilly stopped and looked up at an agitated Maggie. “Yeah, it’s fine. Trust me.” He grinned and proceeded to worm his way into the small opening.
Mark, looking ready to burst from excitement, looked back at his mother with a imploring expression. Maggie hesitated, then, as O’Reilly’s head disappeared into the hole, she released a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, and nodded for Mark to follow.
Mark wasn’t about to wait for his mother to change her mind and practically dove into the hole head first, slithering on his stomach as though he were the snake he’d imitated so successfully earlier. Watching her son’s feet disappear into the hole, Maggie paused, then shook her head, got down to her hands and knees and proceeded to inch her way into the roughly triangular gap.
The passageway was straight and approximately ten feet long. Once Mark exited in front of her, Maggie could see a soft light, strong enough to make her flashlight unnecessary. At the end of the crack, she found herself in a horizontal cleft in the wall of a cave, about three feet above ground level. The cave itself was relatively small, about fifteen feet by twenty-five or so, and she could see the source of the light coming from a small opening in the wall directly opposite her.
O’Reilly was standing in the middle of the cave, next to Mark who was turning around taking in his surroundings with an astonished look on his face. Looking around herself as she clambered down from the ledge, she felt she had to agree with Mark, the cave was a source of amazement.
The sunlight admitted through the opening lit the cave with a soft glow that was reflected off millions of tiny crystals in the sand on the floor and throughout the walls, creating a shimmery effect. O’Reilly was telling Mark something about ancient waterways wearing down the sandstone and other soft rocks, while leaving a large vein of granite complete with quartz crystals to create the walls of the cavern. Whatever it was, the effect was stunning, she thought.
Maggie started to walk around the cave, when something caught her eye. Walking across the sandy floor, Maggie approached the far wall, reaching up to touch the shapes carved into it.
Mark, noticing his mother’s reaction started to hurry over, calling out, “What is it, Mom? Are they Indian petroglyphs? We learned about those in school. That would be so awesome. Do you think this was some sort of sacred spot or something?”
A smile crossed her face as she ran her hand gently over the rough wall. “No, it’s not Indian petroglyphs,” she said. She looked back at her approaching son and saw O’Reilly watching her with a smile on his face. “And I don’t think it’s a sacred spot to anyone, unless it’s to two young boys.” she said, meeting O’Reilly’s eyes and resting her hand on the characters carved into the walls, characters that made out the words, Jimmy O’Reilly and Jason O’Reilly.
“Terrible what kids will do,” O’Reilly said ruefully, nodding toward the words.
“This is where your brother and you would come?” Mark asked excitedly.
“Yeah, this was a favorite place. Got us in a bit of trouble though. Want to see why?”
Mark eagerly turned away from the carved words and headed back over to where O’Reilly was standing, followed more slowly by Maggie. O’Reilly turned and, beckoning to them, moved toward the opening that let in the sunlight.
The crack was roughly triangular, three feet high and four feet across at the base, and about five feet off the ground. Underneath several rocks had been piled to allow a shorter observer to climb up and look out the opening.
Mark scrambled excitedly up on the rocks and leaned out the gap, exclaiming as he did so. “Mom, we’re right above the house. I can’t see it, but I can see the barn and the animals and all the rest of the pasture. This is so cool!”
Maggie stepped up beside Mark and looked out onto the meadow, noting the view this secluded spot gave them. She acknowledged to herself that O’Reilly had been right on the money thinking that this would give them the perfect hideout within a hideout. She’d never really noticed this little opening far up in the cliff before, and she was sure that if they were careful, no intruders would be able to see them from the floor of the valley. At the same time they would be able to spy on anyone who entered the pasture area.
Looking back at O’Reilly with a quizzical expression on her face she asked, “What got you into trou
ble in this place? Was it because you weren’t supposed to go into the caves?”
“No, we were allowed to explore a little, as long as we used obvious markers to indicate where we were going, took plenty of batteries for our flashlights, and weren’t gone over a half hour at a time. No, we got in trouble for something a little different than that.” There was a half embarrassed look on his face.
“Okay, give,” Maggie commanded. “What were the sins of the O’Reilly brothers? What do I have to watch out for?” A huge grin split her face.
“Well, you see Jason and I found this place on one of our visits to Hideaway with our dad. He was working this pasture and he brought us with him for a sort of a treat. We spent several days headquartering in the house. We thought it was pretty neat that we could see the people and they didn’t see us, and that’s where the idea came from.” He hesitated.
“The next time we came, we brought a package of water balloons we’d picked up on a trip into town, and several canteens.”
“Somehow I think I know what’s coming,” Maggie said in failing tones while Mark watched O’Reilly, avidly listening.
“Yeah, well, we got up here and filled the balloons. It wasn’t easy without a hose and some real water pressure, but we managed.”
“How?” asked Mark, excitement growing. “Those balloons are tough. I’ve tried to fill them without a tap or hose and haven’t been able to do it.”
Maggie put her head in her hands, shaking it in despair, and slumped in a sign of defeat. With a glance at her, O’Reilly continued in contrite tones belied by the smile on his face .
“I guess it’s sort of gross, but we would fill our mouths with the water, then blow it into the balloons.”
“Awesome!”
Maggie just groaned at the image of mayhem to come as a result of Mark’s new education.
“Well, it took awhile, but we eventually got several balloons filled enough. Then it was just a matter of waiting.” O’Reilly laughed at his recollections. “Mom had come with us that time, and she was a horrible practical joker. So, we waited until she came out of the house and was headed for the clothes line with some stuff she’d washed. Then ‘bomb’s away.’ Unfortunately for us, our aim was pretty good, and Mom and the blankets got splattered with mud and dirt.” He shook his head. “Mom liked a good joke, but not when it meant destroying all the work she’d done trying to wash those blankets by hand. When we got up the courage to come out of the caves, we ended up being assigned to do the camp’s laundry for the next two weeks, and Dad made sure that the laundry was plenty dirty.”
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