Trekking Home

by Jeffrey Miller

  “Wait I can’t take that, your family needs this stuff,” Nate explained. John shook his head in disagreement and walked Nate over to the Mini Cooper-sized vehicle. It had a small roof tub style, with a rack on the back for rifles. The rear was much like a truck bed. It was camo in color with good headlights. It looked barely used.

  “Nate you need this, we thought about a motorcycle, but honestly, this is best for the terrain you will encounter in Colorado. Also, we can give you extra fuel. It can carry a lot of payloads.” John stood now in front of Nate looking up at him. Nate was about 4 inches taller than John.

  “I own much more than this to you, as a matter of fact, we all do. Please take it and get to your family” John said in a serious tone. Nate extended his hand and with a tight grip, shook John’s hand.

  The load out of the Ranger UTV was fun, Nate thought. He was impressed with just how much they could hold. If he had taken the time back home at the ranch to look into these, he would have gotten one already. It was much like a Jeep Wrangler in many ways. The Ranger's abilities are numerous. It is also equipped with a winch. John also had a spare tire rack on the back with the tire. Nate helped Chris carry over a few large 5-gallon water containers.

  “Chris, you are a blessed man to have parents this generous. I do appreciate all of it” Nate said placing one container in and helping Chris strap in the other.

  “My dad has always been a giver. A few years back, south of here, many people lost their homes due to the Big Thompson River flood. He got us all together, and we went down to donate much of our long-term food to the shelters. It’s just how he is.” Chris explained as the two of them walked back to the house.

  “Nate, you will be headed down towards Estes Park, that’s the same area where the flood happened. There are still abandoned cabins and cottages down there, so maybe you could stay the night in one depending on what time you go through on your way south.” Chris suggested.

  “That’s a good idea as long as others haven’t sought the same refuge in them,” Nate replied.

  “That’s true, I didn’t think about that, it’s not a very populated area, but this time of year there seem to be many tourists, my dad always says,” Chris said. Nate thought about that for a moment. He now wondered how people from New Jersey or Chicago, now stuck in Estes Park or just in the mountains in general, were going to cope with what has happened. He was going to need to be very vigilant everywhere he went. People become desperate, and even more so when they are not in familiar lands.

  It was nearly noon before Nate had loaded up the Ranger with his gear and supplies the Thomas family had provided. John had given Nate instructions on how to operate the vehicle and even took him to the track where the shooting had occurred. Nate expected to see big blood stains on the light colored soil, but John had already removed it all and repacked the track sometime that morning.

  Nate took the Ranger on the track, going through the paces of operating it and managing the 4x4 on some of the dirt mounds. Even loaded up, it had no issues with power and seemed eager to accelerate even faster. The overall speed was top out at 48 mph, about the same as the old dirt bike or maybe a little slower. It was still far better than walking. Besides that it was fun, it reminded Nate of when he was a teen and in his first Jeep CJ7. It was an older late 70’s model but it was a jeep, and he abused the shit out of it. His parents still had it, out in the pasture. It needed some work done to it and Nate promised them someday he would fix it up. For now, his dad just kept the weeds off of it.

  Nate especially liked the rifle mounts next to his seat. John had positioned one inside for Nate’s right hand. Nate could if needed to pull it relatively fast from the holster. The biggest thing Nate liked about the Ranger was the feeling of normal again. Not since he left his truck did he feel like things were somewhat normal. It was an important feeling to have during times of turmoil. Nate needed that now more than anything.

  The time had come to say his goodbyes to the Thomas family. Looking back, Nate had come close to shooting Chris at the Crystal Lakes airstrip. If he hadn’t raised his arms like he did and done something stupid he may have shot the kid. Nate didn’t wish to think about that now. It was a bad day, and Chris got caught up with people who eventually would have done him harm. Everyone had gathered out the back of the house near the patio. The Ranger's gas tank was fully loaded. John had secured three five gal gas cans in the back. The Ranger had a tank capacity of 7.4 gals. The mpg was roughly 45 miles. Nate had the Ranger loaded well, but he still should average about 40 plus to the mile, John told him. Nate did the calculations, and with what fuel he had, he should be able to make it all the way back home, as long as his trip was without incident or major detours. Elevation was also going to be a factor in the consumption of fuel. He would just have to do the best he could. Much of the weight he carried would be lost over the distance as he used things up, so this would give him a boost in mileage.

  Nate walked up to the family who all stood under the patio.

  “Thank you all for everything. This will help in ways I can’t even tell you.” Nate said shaking everyone's hand. When Nate got to Kim, she reached out and hugged Nate. Nate looked surprised as did John who then smiled.

  “Mr. Michaels thank you for saving my family and me. I will never forget you” She said nearly in tears. Nate felt a lump in the back of his throat and just hugged her back. Rachael walked over and put her arm around Kim after she let go of Nate. She then looked up to Nate.

  “Nate, may God see you home, as he helped see you here for us. Thank you for everything.” Rachael said, as she also hugged Nate. John walked over and shook Nate’s hand.

  “Stay safe Nate; everyone has said exactly how I feel as well. We owe you our lives.” John said. Nate looked over to see Chris with a tear in his eye.

  “Is it ok if Chris rides with me to the bottom of the driveway?” Chris smiled. John motioned for him to go. The two walked to the Ranger and got in. Nate started it up and waved goodbye he and Chris headed around the house to the driveway.

  When Nate got to the bottom where he initially parked his small dirt bike he stopped.

  “Chris, I’m sure someday we will meet again. You have a great family; you need to make sure to protect them the best you can.” Nate stated. Chris smiled and extended his hand to Nate’s.

  “I know I do, and I will, sir.” He replied.

  “Just call me Nate; you are a good friend now. Friends don’t call each other sir,” Nate said putting his hand on Chris’s shoulder.

  “Ok, Nate” he replied. Chris started to get out when Nate spoke.

  “Hang on Chris, I have something for you,” Nate said opening the pack that sat on the floor.

  Nate removed the large 45-70 revolver that was given to him by the sheriff back in Laramie. Chris’s eyes grew as he eyed the gun.

  “A friend gave this to me, but I want you to have it, Chris. I already spoke to your father about it, and he said it was okay. Times are different now; you need this to help protect your family.” Nate handed him the empty weapon. It looked almost comical in the teen's hand, but John told him that Chris was a good shot with any gun he picked up.

  “I don’t know what to say. Does this shoot the same caliber as the lever action rifle?” Chris asked.

  “Yes, it does. It does have a kick but whatever you hit with it won’t get up. Become skilled with it and keep it with you all the time.” Nate said. Chris raised the gun and Nate showed him how to open the cylinder. Nate then removed two large boxes of ammo and handed them to Chris.

  “These are hard to find, but your father said he knows a man who reloads them, so save your brass and get as much more as you can find” Nate explained. Chris put the unloaded gun in his waist and the belt sagged down. Nate then remembered the holster. He dug through the bag and removed the leather gun belt with the western style holster.

  The belt also had shell holders made on it and twenty 45-70 bullets in them. Nate didn’t notice that before. That
’s why the belt made his pack so heavy, he thought to himself and laughed inside. He handed the holster to Chris, who smiled from ear to ear.

  “You may need to size that up, but it should fit just fine. It's important to wear it every day Chris, make it your American Express, don’t leave home without it” He said laughing, but Chris just stared at him.

  “Ok, that’s a joke before your time. Ask your dad, and he will explain it to you.” Chris smiled.

  “Ok Chris, I better get going.” Nate shook Chris’s hand, but Chris reached in and hugged Nate.

  “Nate, thank you, so much for coming when you did. I don’t think we would have lived to see the next day if you hadn’t shown up” Chris said, letting go of Nate.

  “Well, it all worked out Chris. Things happen for reasons we don’t always understand, but you guys will be fine now. I think most of the trash was removed, to the dump, kid. But keep your eyes open and stay close to your family. They need you.” Nate explained.

  Nate started the Ranger and waved by one last time to Chris. He did hope someday that he would be able to return to this beautiful area and its family.

  Chapter 14

  Back In the Saddle Again

  The Ranger was moving along very well. Nate made it to his turn off to start his journey south on County Rd 63E. The main goal was to avoid larger cities, so this meant staying in the mountainous regions as much as he could. It was only 30 plus miles, but it was a long twisting road up and down the tree covered Roosevelt National Forest. It was a beautiful ride. Any other time, this would have been a great place to stop and take in the beauty. At times the landscape opened up to reveal expansive meadows. The road was mostly dirt but well-packed nothing the Ranger couldn’t handle.

  Nate drove along thinking about how lucky he realized he was that the Thomas family willing gave up this UTV for him to have. He did hope someday he could return it and visit them. Then his thoughts moved to the meal Rachael had bagged up for his dinner. She had asked him about several food items and was busy in the kitchen the entire time they prepared the Ranger. His stomach was greatly anticipating the thought of a surprise meal later when he set up camp.

  The feeling of running down these back roads without a soul in sight was an odd one. He did feel alone but considered his options. The alternative would have him running down crowded roads with many upset desperate people wanting everything he had and his life. Solitude was best. Even out here, he was bound to run into someone. He just hoped it wasn’t going to be a pickup full of rednecks. Time may be on his side. Most gasoline supplies were running low, so if people were able to drive, they would likely be conserving it as much as possible. Life was never like the movies, he hoped. Even rednecks had common sense. The biker gang had motorcycles with a further range on less fuel. In any event, he would still be vigilant. Nate pulled over to stop for awhile. He wanted to stretch his legs and grab a snack from the snack bag labeled as such by Rachael. He waited till he reached the next hill top; Nate wanted to find a spot where he could have an advantage of the high ground if anything were to come his way.

  Nate approached a small home that sat near an intersection in the road. He saw only one car but no one outside. Again, he decided to go fast and hopefully there would be no issues. As he drove by he turned and didn’t see anyone. The property appeared abandoned. He continued on his way, seeing a few more homes much like the other, again no one visible. Nate settled on a ridge that was as close to the crest of a nearby mountain as he could be. He pulled up and under a large Ponderosa Pine. It was a massive tree with lots of shade beneath the spreading branches. Pine needles covered the soil. Nate eased the Ranger up under the tree and turned it off. The silence of his location was stunning to his ears. The winds blew stiff but cool. He stretched his long frame after climbing off the Ranger. So far it had performed beyond his expectations. The only concern he had before the trip was his height but the Polaris Company had made it fit larger people.

  Nate opened the snack bag to find homemade granola bars, apple slices, and a juice box that was till thawing out. He felt like a kid at lunch out on the playground with his brown bag. He laughed at the sight, but it was nice to eat fresh. The days of eating dehydrated would soon be back. Nate bit into the granola. He was surprised about the moisture and taste. It wasn’t like the store bought prepackaged types. They were usually dry and fell apart. He finished it off in mere moments, as it was so good. The apple slices went down just as fast. He savored the partly frozen juice box, and he sat leaned up against the thick bark of the Ponderosa pine. He had his pack next to him and decided to remove the small Ham radio. It was still charged up, and Nate was higher up this time. He turned it on a set it to scan. He heard nothing. He closed his eyes; it was time for a brief but needed nap.

  “Breaker, breaker does anyone hear me?” the female voice came through loud and clear. The sound startled Nate. He had fallen asleep listening to the scanner. He didn’t hear anything now. He sat, still waking up, looking down at the scanner next to him on the long pine needles. The sun was nearly down. He had slept too long. Just when he thought maybe he was dreaming he heard the repeated female voice again.

  “Breaker breaker, can anyone hear me on this?” Nate wasn’t dreaming. Nate didn’t know much about the Ham radio world but did know that he wasn’t licensed and apparently this woman wasn’t either. Saying “breaker” wasn’t normal technique that was certain. Now the problem became should he answer or not. Maybe she was just looking for information, or someone to listen. He did know she had to be close, as he had just a small handheld radio and her voice was clear as the skies above.

  “If anyone can hear me, I need help” she stated. Nate bowed his head. She asked for help. He didn’t have the feeling in his gut that this was a trap or anything. Her voice was loud but strained. Nate wasn’t sure, but the voice sounded timeworn. The stress and crackle reminded him of an aunt that had long passed. Nate decided to respond.

  “I can hear you. Can you hear me?” Nate wanted to use regular radio language but decided to keep it on the trucker level. Calling out the breaker, breaker on a Ham radio was enough to send any Ham radio operator into a high degree of rage. However, none responded, so it was likely he was the only one that heard her calls.

  “Yes, dear lord thank you, I need help. Can you help me?” she asked. Nate heard the desperation in her voice. She seemed to be serious.

  “Yes I can help, what is wrong? Where are you exactly?” Nate asked.

  “I’m in poor health and need help. It’s not me that needs the help. My grandson needs it more,” she explained. Nate jumped up gathering his pack and his map.

  “Where are you about county road 63E about two miles south of Kyle Gulch?” Nate asked. There was a long pause before she finally answered.

  “I am down about a mile when you see the large totem pole you found me, just come up the drive, and you will have to let yourself in, as I can’t move.” She replied, struggling to get those words out now. Nate felt the urgency coming from her voice, like a pain emanating from the radio touching his heart. Something was wrong, and he needed to be there 10 minutes ago.

  The Ranger wasn’t going fast enough, Nate thought. He didn’t realize how slow it was until there was an emergency, but it was better than being on foot and having to run it with his pack. Nate thought about the topic of luck again. This lady was lucky Nate had stopped when he did. Her requests for help would have gone unanswered if it were not for his desire for sleep. She was also lucky he pulled out the radio. Nate would soon discover.

  Up ahead, he could see a very tall colorful totem pole at the roadside just where she said it would be. He turned up the drive looking at the pole; it had to be nearly 20 foot tall. It was something to see. He made his way up the long trail road until he came to an old one level home. It was faded white, with other Indian looking artifacts in the yard. Off in the far corner of the yard was a teepee. It looked like a real one, large, with had many holes in covering. Nate pulled up cl
ose to the home and pulled out his rifle. He wasn’t stupid and realized this could be an ambush, but his spidey senses were not going off.

  He approached the porch and the door which was an old style storm door with a ripped screen that was missing the chain that kept it closed. He knocked and then decided to call her on the radio.

  “I’m her Ma’am,” Nate said waiting for a reply.

  “Come in; I’m inside the front of the house,” she said. Nate slowly pushed, and the door creaked just like he expected it would, like the sounds from an old coffin lid rising in a horror movie. The interior was dark, but he saw one light flickering as he turned right. It was a hurricane lamp. Nate could see what looked like a teenage boy, maybe 15 or 16; he couldn’t tell. His back was to Nate. He sat in an older looking kitchen chair holding the hand of an old lady.

  “Hello?” Nate asked. The old lady slowly lifted her head to look at Nate. The boy didn’t look. All of his attention was on her.

  “Come on in, young man. Thank you for coming. I prayed, and God sent me you.” Nate was a religious man but didn’t go to church much. He did believe in God, and never doubted the power of prayer.

  “What is wrong, ma’am?” Nate asked moving closer. He sat his rifle down near the door in the shadows. He could tell there wasn’t any reason for it or anyone else around. The air was stale with the heavy smell of moth balls.

  Between Nate and the old lady were numerous children’s toys. Mostly toys meant for much younger kids. He looked around the room and saw a few pictures in the dimly lit room. He approached her and stood.

  “Ben, can you go get me some water please?” she asked the young teen. Ben stood up, turned, and not making eye contact, silently walked to the rear of the home. Then she spoke again.

  “My name is Betty Holder. That was my grandson, Ben Washakie. I am sick and dying, just to keep this as brief as possible. I need someone to take care of my grandson.” Nate was in shock. “Take care of your grandson?” Nate had a thousand questions about that alone, but the most pressing were the most obvious.