by Frank Hayes
He took Dave’s gun, quickly checking the magazine, then raised it to his shoulder. There was no telescopic sight like he had looked through many times when he was doing his job in Afghanistan. He took a quick look through the glasses, then through the mechanical sight, which he had flipped up on the rifle barrel. He drew in a short breath, drew a bead on the black figure that was now aiming his gun at Virgil. He saw the scenario in his head, felt the trigger through the metal prosthesis in his hand, then squeezed the trigger. He heard the sound, felt the recoil, but in another sense didn’t hear it or feel it but knew from his sense memory that it had happened that way. He picked up the binoculars quickly, expelled the breath he had held and looked. He saw the same silhouette frozen, unmoving for an instant, then a hesitation. The gun slipped from his hand. He took a step backward then reached up, clutched his chest, stumbled into the darkness and disappeared.
Chapter 42
Simon slumped down against another boulder. He felt like a deflated balloon. All the air had suddenly gone out of him. Images that he had worked hard to put out of his mind from his not-so-distant past overwhelmed him. The crumpled figure that he saw fall was only the most recent in a long line. He tried to rise but his legs wouldn’t support him. He thought he had turned a corner in his life, put his recent history behind him. Put it in that jar, where all bad memories should go, then place it high up on a shelf out of reach, where it would stay, until it was forgotten. But the tears rolling down his cheeks were a sharp contradiction to that illusion. He sat immobilized, detached from the world as it rotated on its axis, until he heard the sound of all-too-familiar distant gunfire.
In an instant, he grabbed Dave’s rifle, then jumped to his feet in a reflex action, waiting to engage the enemy that was coming. Darkness surrounded him. He knew they were coming. They were out there, as they always were. He looked to see who was creeping up on his position. The shots ended. The quiet once again reasserted itself in the desert landscape.
Confused, he looked into the invading darkness. He glanced around, saw the single light glowing in the visitor center, the two cars parked in the lot. Slowly he remembered where he was. He shook his head, straining to bring himself back into the present. He looked at the cars in the parking lot and the visitor center beyond once again, reacquainting himself with the world and his new life. He realized that the shots must have come from Virgil. He ran back to the cruiser, put the rifle in back, got in, started the engine, then turned on the high beams, blinking them a few times to let Virgil know he was there and coming to his aid. He drove out of the lot onto the desert floor, heading for the base of El Morro. When he got to within a couple of hundred feet of the monument he could make out some figures. They had stepped into the arc of his high beams. Simon brought the car to a sudden halt and bolted from it. The closer he got he realized there were three figures.
“Virgil, are you hit? How were you able to get down here?” He looked at the two with Virgil, one still on his feet, the other being held up by both, obviously in bad shape. Simon reached out grabbed the one man and lay him on the ground.
“No. I’m fine. It’s the other two. I think the one you got is in the worse shape. He might not make it, but Everett wouldn’t leave him up there on that mountain, even though he tried to kill us both.”
Everett Jessup, holding his side, had slid to the ground during the exchange. Both he and Randy were bleeding profusely.
“Help us into the cruiser, then see if you can get patched through to local law enforcement. Try 911. I think the best, closest hospital would be in Albuquerque. We can’t wait for help to come here. If you connect, tell them we’ll be coming east on forty so they can intercept us.”
• • •
A little more than half an hour later Virgil and Simon stood on the side of the interstate, watching while Everett and Randy were placed in the back of two EMS vehicles. One of the responders walked over to Virgil.
“Well, Sheriff, near as I can tell the big guy is in pretty good shape, got him stabilized, but the other is going to be touch and go. Got IV drips in each of them and each one still has some lead poisoning to be removed. If the one guy makes it through the night that will be a good sign. Check tomorrow. You both better get cleaned up. Anybody sees you, more than likely they will be calling for an ambulance for you.” Virgil and Simon looked down at their blood-soaked uniforms as the attendant turned and ran toward one of the vehicles.
“Guess cleanup will have to wait until we get back to Hayward,” Virgil said. They stood for another minute watching the flashing red lights speed down the highway until they were swallowed by the dark. Then they both turned and walked to the cruiser.
It was a long, silent ride back to Hayward. The stench of the drying blood caking on their uniforms was sickeningly strong. The car heater only made it worse. Finally unable to stand it any longer, Virgil reached the point where he had no choice but to lower the windows. The frozen night air rushed in, sweeping the stench out. Even with the heater going full blast, after a couple of minutes they both started to shiver. He rolled the windows back up. He repeated the process at least ten times before they finally reached Hayward. Virgil pulled into the parking lot in back of the office a little before three. As he got out of the cruiser he rolled down all of the windows.
“Simon, there is a fresh change of clothes inside.”
“No. I don’t want to change until I’ve taken a shower. I’ve got to get rid of that smell. New clothes alone aren’t going to do it.”
Virgil nodded in agreement. He also realized that those were the first words Simon had spoken since they had gotten in the car. Virgil also was aware that he had barely made a comment on the whole trip. He looked at Simon standing in the glare of the light that lit the parking area. His clothes bloodied, a distant look in his eyes. Virgil read the impact of the day’s events on him. Leaning on Dave’s rifle like a cane, Virgil saw him in a different light. He realized Simon was standing on a precipice. He moved to stand directly in front of him, inches from his face. There was no glint of recognition from Simon.
“Thank you, Simon. Thank you for my life. I know you didn’t want to have to do what you did, but remember you saved a couple of lives today. I told you on the shooting range that morning I could never have made a shot like you did today. It’s important for you to know that is a skill that breaks both ways. Today it broke for Everett and me. I’m glad you made that shot. So is Everett. I wouldn’t be talking to you now if you hadn’t. But I know the cost of it to you.” He reached out his hand, taking Simon’s prosthetic hand in his and raising them interlocked to eye level. “Go home. Take that shower and get to bed. You did a good thing today.”
Simon blinked, then bent his head a little and turned without saying anything and walked to his car. Virgil watched until he drove out of the lot then he went into the office.
Chapter 43
It was a little after eleven the next morning when Jimmy came into the office. Rosie wasn’t too far behind him. He held the door for her.
“One thing about the cold, you move a lot quicker. Thanks, Jimmy.”
“I kinda like it for a change. Those hundred-plus days in July and August sap your energy, especially when you get twenty or thirty of them in a row. You know, last summer Abby was invited to a birthday pool party. She told me they had to have an ice truck come down in the morning to dump cakes of ice into the pool so the kids could swim in the afternoon.”
“Guess there’s an upside and downside to just about everything. Right now I just appreciate being warm. The heater in my car sure picked a good time to crap out. Jimmy, aren’t you going to hang up your coat?”
“Oh, I ain’t staying. I’m on my way down to Redbud. Just stopped by to find out how the sheriff made out with that trip to El Morro yesterday. Today is my day down to Redbud. Simon will be here today.”
“I don’t know how I forgot about that,” Rosie said as she hung up her coat. “Dif, what happened?”
Dif stood
up from in back of the desk and stretched, an expressionless look on his face.
“I dunno, haven’t heard a word from Virgil.”
Rosie looked up at the clock.
“It’s past eleven. That’s not a good sign. Even when Virgil’s not coming in early he always calls by eight.” Just as she reached across the desk for the phone, it rang. For the next few minutes she listened while Virgil told her what had happened. “Okay Virgil, don’t rush in here. Dif and I are here. Nothing much is going on. Jimmy stopped by, he is on his way down to Redbud. I will make sure about Simon. See you later.” She hung up the phone, then sat down. For the next couple of minutes she filled in the narrative for Dif and Jimmy.
“I wasn’t expecting that,” Dif said.
“Don’t think Virgil was either. He said they didn’t get back here until three in the morning.”
“Is the sheriff okay?”
“He’s all right, Jimmy, but he’s worried about Simon. Do you think you could stop by the hospital on your way out of town? You know Simon’s friend, Chet. He’s the intern.”
“The guy with one eye. I know him. He’s played basketball with us a couple of times.”
“Sheriff thinks it would be good if he stopped by Simon’s place, had a talk with him. Seems they went through a lot together.”
“You mean the war.”
Rosita nodded.
“Sure, I can do that. I’ll stop by the hospital on my way out of town.”
• • •
Virgil was sitting over a second cup of coffee when Cesar came into the kitchen.
“You all right, my friend?” Virgil looked up from his cup. “The clothes on the porch are covered in blood.”
“Oh, yeah. I’ve got to get them into the wash. Left them out there because of the smell. Too tired to deal with them last night.”
“Heard you come in real late.”
“Yeah.”
“Any of that blood yours?”
“No, no. I’m okay, don’t worry.”
“You want to talk about it?”
Virgil looked into the weathered face of Cesar as he sat down, then poured himself a cup of coffee. He saw the concern in his eyes.
“I don’t know if going over it again is going to make any difference. I’ve got to figure out where to go from here.”
“Well, maybe talking about it will help you figure that out.”
Virgil hesitated, then spent the next ten minutes telling Cesar about the events of the previous night, ending with his concern for Simon. Cesar listened without saying a word. Then Cesar sat back in his chair, took a sip from his cup, reached his bony brown hand over across the table, covering Virgil’s hand with his.
“I think maybe there are too many things crowding your head right now. That’s why you can’t figure out which way to go. Let’s begin by getting rid of one of them. I understand your concern for your new man, Simon. Don’t know him well but I liked him when I met him at the party. The fact that you took him on tells me he must be a good man. But his problems can only be solved by him. You can’t do that for him. He has to figure it out. We all do, as we go through life. I was never prouder of you than when your mom and pop died. You met life head-on. You were devastated but you kept going forward. Simon has to figure out how to do the same thing. Keep going forward. Moving on from the bad things, the pain he has endured. Otherwise, he will have no life. But he has to do it. You can’t do it for him. He is very lucky to have you and the others in his life supporting him. We all need that, because none of us goes through life alone. Look at me. When Sam, your dad, brought me here, I knew maybe ten words in English. Now I even think in English. ” Cesar withdrew his hand, sat back, then took another drink from his cup. Neither of them spoke for a while.
“You know, when you were speaking, I could hear my grandfather in your words. I wonder if I will ever get to be as wise as you and he.”
Cesar smiled at the comment.
“You will. You just have to live long enough.”
It was Virgil’s turn to smile, recalling the same words to him and Billy Three Hats from his grandfather.
“Well, I don’t know. If I have many more nights like last night, don’t know if I’ll make it.”
“That’s why you need men like Simon watching your back.”
Virgil stood up and put his empty cup in the sink.
“Yeah, I’ve got to get more of those guys. Told Ears to speak to the council. Maybe I should bring that blood stained uniform to the next meeting, tell them about last night.”
“That’ll get their attention. Okay, got one problem off the table. Now for the next one, Everett.
Let Aunt Clara handle that one. She’s got the old man down there. Call her. Tell her about everything that went down. Let her explain to him what happened, what’s going on. I have a hunch the old-timer knows a little more about his son and his life choices than he has let on. He has lived in the world a long time. Besides, based on what you said about his son taking a bullet for you, I don’t think it will go as hard on him as it will on his friend. Clara will know best how to tell him. She’s the other side of Grandpa and me. Maybe the smarter side.”
“I won’t argue that point.” Virgil left the house a little while later with a much lighter step. Now, he was down to one problem. He knew there was no handing this one off to someone else to solve . . . Mesquite Sand and Gravel, and Mr. James Zambrano. When he stepped out onto the porch, he looked at the pile of bloody clothes. He kicked at it, saw that it was a frozen mess, decided that the comment he’d made inside wasn’t a half-bad idea. He stepped back into the house, got a plastic bag, picked up the tangle, took out his jockeys, which had even absorbed some blood, then stuffed the rest of the clothes in the plastic bag.
“Show and tell.” he said. “Worked in first grade, not much different than a town council meeting.” He smiled at his analogy then walked down to his vehicle and threw the bag into the back.
Before he left to get back on the horse, he took a little time to see how his own stock was doing. Remembering Clara’s advice about taking a step back when he was feeling crowded, he caught Jack up. In less than twenty minutes he was up on the ridge. There were still pockets of snow in deep gullies. The ever-running stream that crisscrossed the ranch was full to busting its banks. He could hear its voice before he actually saw it. On the other side of the ridge he let Jack out into a full gallop. For the next ten minutes the cold air whipped his face. Jack flattened out into the run, exhilarated by the free rein. It was good for them both. Jack because he needed to stretch the muscles that hadn’t been used in too long, Virgil because he needed for a couple of minutes to get away from the realities of what his life was at this point in time. He might not have consciously realized it but the ride was a kind of therapy. When he finally checked Jack’s headlong run, it was with reluctance. He wished he could ride like that forever. Turning in a different direction to head back, he came upon some of the cattle, who took little note of him. They all looked fat and in good winter coats. He could already tell that most were well along with the calves they would drop come spring. It made him feel good to see them. He knew that if his dad was here, he would feel the same way. The reminiscence brought him down a bit but it passed.
At times like this, which occurred rarely, for he was not one to drown in the past, he wished he was a little more spiritual. He wished he could be content with the idea that one day they, his mother, his father, Rusty, would all be together again. But he could never get to that. He’d seen too much to believe in nirvana. His personal philosophy had gradually evolved over time, to getting through life doing as little damage to others as he could and maybe doing some good along the way. When it was over, it was over. If there was anything to come after, it would be a surprise. He never verbalized his beliefs to others. It was a secret he kept to himself.
Chapter 44
Morning time with Cesar, along with the ride on Jack, had renewed him. It was a much different man who wal
ked into the office a little after two from the man who had stripped off blood-soaked clothes, shivering in twenty-degree temperatures on his front porch in the middle of the night. His exhaustion had been compounded by the dread of dealing with the next day. Tired as he had been, he had spent most of the night tossing and turning. It had taken Cesar to settle him and gain some perspective. Rosie sensed the change right off. His was not the voice she had heard earlier on the phone. She and Dif were more than a little surprised when he dropped a bag of doughnuts on her desk.
“Figured we might as well keep up the stereotype.”
“Trying to watch my weight, Virgil. My OB says every pound you put on now is just going to be another one you have to lose on the other end.”
“Maybe you ought to get another OB,” Dif said. “If every pregnant woman had that outlook, the population would be at a standstill and that guy would be out of a job. So if you are just going to look at that bag, pass it over here.”
“I’ll subscribe to that. But before you eat the bag, Dif, pass it over to me. I’ll have one or two.” Virgil looked at Simon, who had just come in behind him. The look of desperation he had seen on Simon’s face the night before was gone. One look into his face and he realized that Chet was obviously Simon’s Cesar. We all need one, he thought, recalling Cesar’s words.