Mojave Desert Sanctuary

by Gary J George

  He took a deep breath. He was ready.

  He bent over and picked up the stick. He put it inside the bucket.

  When he heard the car come off the last switchback, he leaned over slightly and began to make stirring motions with the stick.

  The car was coming up the driveway now. When it pulled even with him, he straightened and pulled the stick out of the bucket. He looked over at the car.

  There were two men in the car. They were very big. They were wearing blazers in spite of the heat.

  The window lowered.

  “Afternoon. You speak English?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m Detective Thorenson,” said the driver, holding out a detective shield.

  “That’s my partner, Detective Wilkes.”

  The big man in the passenger seat nodded.

  Joe thought the men certainly didn’t look like a Thorenson and a Wilkes. But that didn’t surprise him, since he knew they weren’t policemen, either.

  “Joe Medrano.”

  “Mr. Medrano, we’re looking for a woman. She’s wanted for murder in Las Vegas. Killed her roommate in cold blood. She’s very dangerous. We think she might be out this way. Would you take a look at a picture for us?”

  “Be glad to.”

  The man put the badge in the inside pocket of his blazer and pulled out a photograph. As he did, Joe saw the butt of a .45 automatic pointing outward from beneath his right armpit.

  The guy was left handed. Joe thought that would help.

  He stepped toward the car and took the photo the man was extending toward him.

  It was Kiko.

  He had known it would be.

  He studied the picture.

  “Murder, huh?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Be damned. Wondered about her.”

  “You mean you’ve seen her?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  He waved off toward the south.

  “Seen her over at Gold Valley ranch.”

  He handed the picture back.

  “Can you tell me how to find that place?”

  “Come on, I’ll draw you a map.”

  He stepped far enough away from the car that the driver would have room to swing the door open. He scraped at the dirt with his boot, smoothing out a spot. When he finished, he got down on his right knee, his left boot propped beside his left arm.

  The man opened the door and got out.

  Joe hoped he would close the door so his partner wouldn’t see everything that was about to happen.

  The man pushed the door closed.

  “Kneel down here. I’ll show you the roads.”

  The man hesitated. He probably didn’t want to get his pants dirty, thought Joe. He looked like the kind of guy who would worry about that sort of thing.

  Joe kept his face turned toward the cleared space. He was holding the stick with his right hand, the tip resting in the dirt. He thought it seemed less threatening that way. Not that either one of the men seemed to think he was going to be any kind of a problem.

  Finally, the big man got down next to Joe with his left hand and left knee on the ground.

  Joe reached to the top of the cleared space and drew a line toward the man.

  “Cedar Canyon Road. Was just on it.”

  “Okay.”

  He intersected the line with one that ran perpendicular to it.

  “Black Canyon Road. On down that way.”

  He gestured with his head and with the stick toward Cedar Canyon.

  Just as Joe thought he would, the man turned his head the direction Joe was pointing with the stick. As if he could actually see through the car.

  As soon as he turned his head, Joe did three things swiftly and smoothly.

  He dropped the stick. With his palm facing the man’s arm, he seized the man’s left wrist just above his expensive watch and leaned to the right, pinning the hand to the ground. Simultaneously, he pulled the knife out of his boot.

  Too late, the man realized he was in trouble. He tried to pull his hand free so he could reach his gun.

  Mistake.

  Had he swung on Joe with his free hand, with his superior size he may have had a chance. But he was too used to relying on his gun when things got tough.

  Joe pivoted to his right, thrusting the long, thin blade up under the man’s ribcage and into his heart.

  His eyes opened in surprise.

  He made a ‘whuff’ sound as the air left his lungs.

  Joe kept the man’s hand pinned to the ground.

  His face was inches from Joe’s, his expression bewildered, as if he could not yet believe what was happening. He struggled to speak, but all the air had escaped his lungs.

  He was never going to get any more.

  He sagged.

  He slumped toward Joe.

  Joe took his weight.

  “Hey,” Joe yelled, “Your partner’s having a heart attack!”

  The other man pushed his door open and came running.

  As he cleared the back of the car, it looked to him like Joe was trying to support his partner.

  “Help me!”

  The man leaned down. As he put his left hand on his dying partner’s shoulder, Joe pushed off the ground, straightening his right leg and driving hard with his left, shoving his burden against the other man.

  As he did, he pulled his knife out of the first man’s body.

  “Hey, what the …,” the man yelled as he stumbled back against the car.

  Then Joe was on him. With the knife palm down in his left hand, he slashed backhand across the man’s throat from right to left, severing the carotid artery. Bright red arterial blood sprayed across Joe and the man on the ground. With the car behind him and his partner’s dead weight on his feet, he was trapped.

  Salvatore “The Wolf” Lupo was already dead.

  He just didn’t know it yet.

  He clawed for his gun with his right hand, but Joe turned his hand palm up and came back across Salvatore’s throat from the opposite direction. His neck a gaping wound, Salvatore slumped partially across Joe and partially across Fiore Abbatini’s lifeless body. His gun forgotten now, the mistakes that led to his death on a dusty, desert mountainside flashed through his mind as he pawed at his throat as if to stop the life from spilling.

  Salvatore Lupo thought of sitting on the floor of his home in Sicily as a child. Thought of the smell of olive oil and rosemary bread baking in his mother’s kitchen. Then he thought nothing at all, ever again.

  When Joe was sure the man was no longer a threat, he stepped back. The man slid down Joe’s body and finished collapsing on top of Fiore Abbatini.

  Joe heard footsteps behind him. Three thoughts went through his head. There had been a third man who had been let out of the car below the top of the hill. The man was behind Joe. But he hadn’t shot Joe because they needed to know where Kiko was, so Joe still had a chance.

  As he thought, he was already turning and dropping into a crouch, the knife held palm down below his waist.

  Aeden was walking toward him, holding a cottonwood limb.

  Joe relaxed, straightened and shook his head.

  “Sorry you had to see that.”

  “You all right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who are these guys?”

  Joe shrugged.

  “Came for missy.”

  Aeden walked over to the two dead men.

  He stood looking down at them. Looking at all the blood. Then he giggled.

  Joe knew what was happening. The boy had been primed to attack the two men. That’s why he had the limb. Now there was nothing to do, but he was still primed, his heart pounding, his nerves keyed in anticipation.

  Joe walked over and put his hand on Aeden’s shoulder.

  “Be okay. Were ready to fight.

  That’s good.”

  Aeden nodded.

  “Put the limb down.”

  Aeden dropped the limb.

  “Where’s K
iko?”

  “I left her up in the wash. Came back to see if you needed help.”

  “Go get her. Worried, scared up there alone.”

  Aeden headed off at a run.

  Joe still had the knife in his hand. He leaned over and wiped it on the jacket of the man on top. Then he put it back in the sheath on his belt.

  He walked to the stock tank behind the house and turned on the faucet. He took off the blood-soaked shirt and rinsed it and wrung it out several times. He walked over to the bunk house and hooked the shirt over a hook near the steps.

  He walked back to the stock tank. He took off the bandana and soaked it in the water, turning it in his hands for a long time before wringing it out. Then he hung the bandana over the pipe while he laved water over his face, hair and arms again and again. The puddle spreading at his feet was pink.

  Joe looked at his Levi’s and boots. They were bloody, but not as bad as he had feared. He wet the bandana again and began to clean them. He didn’t want Kiko to think he was some kind of savage.

  Didn’t want to frighten her.

  When he was satisfied with his condition, he rinsed his bandana one more time and tied it around his forehead.

  Chapter 20

  The Mountains

  Of the Eastern Mojave Desert

  July 10, 1961

  Aeden Snow

  We were making floor tiles when Joe suddenly stopped and looked off to the east. I couldn’t see or hear anything. He walked away from me toward the drop off.

  He stopped again, still looking to the east.

  “What is it?”

  He held up his hand.

  Then I heard it too. A car coming fast on Cedar Canyon road. The sound of the car changed as it passed us and moved to the west. Then the sound stopped, and I no longer heard anything.

  “Car. Trouble coming. Go in, get Kiko. Take her behind the house. Car gets here and stops, take Kiko around the hillside and into the draw that leads to the ridge. Go way up in there.

  I don’t come, fifteen minutes, take her over the ridge. Bathtub Springs.”

  “Okay.”

  “Don’t let her argue. Get her behind the house, fast.”

  There was no panic in Joe’s voice. There was no hesitation either.

  I turned and ran toward the house. I stopped before I went inside. I could hear the car now. It was making its way up the switchbacks

  Kiko was standing in her new room. I took her by the arm.

  “Come on. Joe says we have to get outside and get behind the house.”

  “Oh, God. They’re here.”

  We went out the back door and stood waiting. With the house blocking the sound, I could no longer hear the car. Then it crested the hill and I heard it as it came forward up the long, straight driveway, gravel crunching under the tires.

  It was hard to resist the temptation to peek around the corner, but I knew Joe wouldn’t want me to.

  “As soon as the car stops, we’re going to start around the edge of the cut and head for the draw. Joe has a plan, and part of it is for us to get well up into that draw. That’s what he wants us to do, and we’re going to do it.

  Once you’re safe, I’m coming back.”

  The car stopped.

  We set off at a run. We crouched down as we ran. I don’t know why. It’s not as if whoever was in the car could see through the house. As we ran, I could see the horses in the corral looking toward where the car had stopped.

  We ran into the draw and headed uphill, deep into the brush and boulders. We kept running until the draw began to narrow. We came to a boulder big enough for Kiko to hide behind.

  “If you hear someone coming and you don’t hear Joe or me calling your name, something’s gone wrong. Get out of here. Go quietly, but go fast until you come to the ridgeline. Try not to silhouette yourself as you go over the top.

  When you’re on the other side, go parallel to the ridgeline but stay below it. Keep going until you come to a side cut that leads downhill. It’s deep enough that once you get in it, no one will be able to see you from up here. Follow it down to Bathtub Springs. There’s lots of willows and catclaw there. You can hide and watch the hill. If you see someone coming, they’ll probably come straight over the top from the draw we’re in. Wait until they hit the bottom of the hill and are in Pinto Valley.”

  “How will I know they’re in the bottom?”

  “You won’t be able to see them from where you are. And they won’t be able to see you. When they disappear, climb the draw to the west and go over the hill. When you get on the other side, keep on going until it’s dark.”

  “Aeden, I’m so afraid!. These are terrible people.”

  “I know. But they’re not even sure you’re here. Even if they come up here, they’ll give up when it gets dark.”

  “I want to come with you.”

  “You can’t. Joe’s not risking his life for you to walk into a trap.

  Please. Stay here. When it’s safe, we’ll come for you.”

  I turned and began scrambling back the way we had come.

  When I came out of the draw and ran toward the house, I heard Joe yell something. I couldn’t make out what it was.

  I sprinted at full speed.

  When I came around the house, Joe was on the ground on one knee. He seemed to be struggling with a man who was leaning against him. Another man was coming around the back of the car toward Joe.

  He never saw me.

  He leaned down and grabbed the shoulder of the man who was leaning on Joe.

  I thought Joe was being outnumbered. Pausing, I picked up a cottonwood limb to swing, but Joe suddenly rose to his feet, pushing the man he had been holding against the standing man. At the same time, he pulled his left arm back. I thought he was breaking free.

  The standing man staggered back against the car and yelled something. Then I saw that Joe had a knife. It was long and slender and wicked looking. It flashed in the sunlight as he slashed it backhand across the man’s throat from left to right. Blood sprayed everywhere. The man tried to get his hand inside his jacket, but Joe turned his hand over and came across the man’s throat in the other direction. The man gave up trying to get his gun and lifted his hand to his throat. Then he began to collapse.

  Joe stepped back and the man fell down on top of the man on the ground.

  I slowed but continued toward him, still holding the limb in both hands. Joe heard my footsteps. He whirled. I don’t know what he was thinking, but he was dropping into a crouch, the bloody knife held palm down below his waist.

  The deadly concentration in his eyes froze me in my tracks.

  Then he relaxed, straightened and shook his head as if to clear it.

  “Sorry you had to see that.”

  I don’t know to this day whether he was talking about killing the man by the car or the look in his eyes when he turned on me with the knife.

  “You all right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who are these guys?” I asked, feeling like an idiot as soon as the words left my mouth.”

  Joe shrugged.

  “Came for missy.”

  I walked over to the two dead men.

  The head of the man on the bottom was turned sideways, his vacant eyes staring at something he would never see. Blood had pooled on the ground below his open mouth. A big, black ant had already found it. The man on top was face down. His blood was everywhere.

  “We’re going to have more ants,” I thought.

  Then I giggled.

  Joe walked over and put his hand on my shoulder.

  “Be okay. You were ready to fight.

  That’s good.”

  I nodded.

  “Put the limb down.”

  I hadn’t even realized I was still holding it.

  “Where’s Kiko?”

  “I left her up in the wash. Came back to see if you needed help.”

  “Go get her. Worried, scared up there.”

  I headed off at a run.
r />   When I got to the draw, I started calling to her.

  “Kiko! Kiko, it’s Aeden. It’s okay. Everything’s okay. Come on down.”

  I kept hurrying up the narrow wash. It wasn’t long before we met.

  “It’s over.”

  “Is Joe all right?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about those people?”

  “They won’t bother you.”

  “Where did they go?”

  “They’re dead. Joe killed them.”

  She touched her hand to her forehead.

  “Joe’s not hurt? Not at all?”

  “I don’t think Joe can be hurt.”

  Kiko was shaken. She walked slowly beside me as we returned.

  When we got back to the house, Joe was standing over by the car. His pants were wet and his boots were damp. He was still shirtless. His arms, shoulders and chest were corded with sinewy muscle

  “Go in the house, missy.”

  “Are you all right? You sure you’re not hurt?”

  “Fine.

  Go in the house.”

  “No. I want to see those men. See if I recognize them.”

  “Bad idea. Dream about them.”

  “I’ll take my chances. I have to see them.”

  Kiko walked over to where the two men lay in a discordant, depressing, pile of death.

  There was no hint of grace in their spoiled postures.

  “I know that one. I saw him around the casino. I’ve never seen the other one.”

  She turned to Joe.

  “You said I might dream about them. Won’t you?”

  “Add them, my list.”

  Kiko turned and walked to the house. Joe and I watched her until she went inside.

  Joe turned to me.

  “Clear a path for the car. Hide it.”

  Working together, we quickly moved floor tiles, tools and cottonwood limbs out of the way.

  “You drive. Don’t want blood on it. Going to need it.”

  The car was still running. I put it in drive and started forward. I could feel one of the bodies sliding across the left rear quarter panel.

  I didn’t stop.

  I drove the car off the driveway, past the house and over behind the barn.