Redtail
5 Close Encounter
I MANAGED to get through the last two weeks of senior year, even with a broken heart. Mary Beth getting home helped. A lot. I’d get a week off after graduation before I headed to the upper range. I’d be a free man and I intended to use my freedom for the very best thing I could imagine. First, I’d make love to Mary Beth. Then I’d ride the high range. My grades were plenty good enough for me to get into the college of my choice, and that proved to be UW. I was only going to be an hour and change away from home, but I planned to move on campus in September. It was going to be a good year. I was determined.
My whole family was there for graduation, which amounted to Mom and Dad, Uncle Angus and Aunt Lily, and Mary Beth. George, Shorty, Ham, and Jack were already up on the range, so I didn’t need to rush. When I got up there, Jack was coming back down. He’d had enough of a scare with a ruptured appendix last year that he was skittish about being so far out of touch again. Well, we all face our own mortality.
No, I’m not going there. I spent a good part of my life trying to not be depressed. I’m not going back into the dumps again.
I’d made my choice of where to go to school based on three factors. If I went to U of C, Mary Beth would only be there for a year then we’d be right back where we were now only I’d be in Boulder and she’d be in Laramie. Secondly, I needed a school with a strong Agriculture program. Mary Beth majored in Business at U of C, but I was determined to get the most preparation I could to be a modern rancher.
The third reason was that I was strangely comforted by the trips I made each month to put flowers on Caitlin’s grave. That stone was a constant reminder to me, not of what I’d lost, but of the reality that I lived in another life.
Do you believe in reincarnation? I was digging into that pretty hard. I mean studying Hindu and Buddhist philosophy and meditation. I couldn’t abide the idea of coming back as a spider if you kill a spider and I sure wasn’t going to stop eating beef or raising it to slaughter. Cows are food. Don’t give me crap about levels of spiritual development. Why would reaching a higher plane in human development mean that you should give up something that was a basic part of your position on the food chain. It didn’t make sense.
But I couldn’t help but think if maybe going back in time and being inside Kyle wasn’t just part of me reliving a previous life, you know? I had a complete set of memories of both my lives. If Kyle had remembered it any time I was in him, then I remembered it. I finally figured out that the reason he couldn’t remember any of my memories was that in 1891, I hadn’t been born yet. I had nothing to remember.
You know, that’ll give you a headache if you think about it too long.
Bolt
“Son, take a walk with me,” Dad said.
I could have said, “No, Dad, I’m going to party with my friends,” but the whole family had come to my graduation and then come over to the house. Mom and Aunt Lily were fixing a big dinner and Mary Beth’s sisters were coming with their families. It was almost like Christmas and it would be a long time before I could sneak off with Mary Beth.
“Sure, Dad. What’s up? Is this where you impart your wisdom to me as I’m ready to go out into the world?” We both laughed. Dad had a great sense of humor and sometimes I wished I had more of it. I’d let myself get too morose this spring.
“No son. It’s just that…” He turned and looked back toward the house as if to be sure no one was watching. “…Mom doesn’t like us to smoke around the house.” With that he pulled a cigar out of his pocket and handed it to me. He stuffed another in his mouth. Mine was already cut and waiting for a light and Dad handed me a box of matches as we got to the clearing with the chimney. We settled onto a couple of the log benches and I lit up as Dad bit the end of his cigar off and commenced to chewing. He’d quit smoking a year ago because the doctor told him his lungs couldn’t take anymore. There were dark spots on them. But Dad couldn’t give up tobacco, so he just chewed his cigars now instead of lighting them. He knew I just pulled on the smoke and didn’t inhale it, so he’d gone easy about me pulling out a cigar at the campfire.
“Thanks, Dad.” I handed him back the matches and took a big puff. I was surprised when he handed me his pocket flask and I took a pull of his whiskey.
“I’ve got to know, something son. I’ll probably have to decide while you are up on the range this summer. Do you really want to inherit this place? It doesn’t make a difference to me one way or the other. There’s no pressure. We scarcely turn enough money on what we raise out here to pay the bills and there’s no reason you need to feel obligated to keep it up. I’ve had a couple pretty good offers for the place and if you don’t want it, maybe that would be the best thing for us all. It would pay for your college and Mom and I could retire to Florida and get a suntan. I mean an all-over suntan. Maybe join one of those nudist colonies they’ve got down there. You might not want to think about it, but your mom is a fine-looking woman. A fine woman.”
“Dad. Are you saying you want out now? I don’t think I’m ready to take over the ranch. If I get my degree in agricultural business like we talked, I think we can turn it around and be profitable. But it’ll take me four years to get it. I want this place, Dad. It’s important to me. But if it’s getting you down and you can’t wait for me, then I won’t hold you back.”
“I’m glad you want it, son. I’m worried about it, but I’m glad.” He handed me the pocket flask again and I took a bigger pull this time. We just sat there in companionable silence for a while. I puffed and he spat a wad toward the hearthstone.
“Dad, there’s something special about this land. It calls to me. It’s like it owns me, not the other way around.” How could I tell him about my experiences? They were just too unbelievable. I just knew it was important to be here.
“I’ve always felt the same way, son. We never talked about it much, but on the way up the hill over there when you reach the lower ridge, there’s a little plot of gravestones. There are no names on them or dates, but it’s where the Alexanders buried my mama and she buried her man. My grandma and great grandma are buried there. I don’t know how many generations. You know grandma never got married ’cause her man got killed in Korea after he left her home pregnant. She buried him up there anyway even though they weren’t married. Anyway, when it’s my time, that’s where I want to be buried. Just like that, too. Just a stone to mark the place, but no name or dates. You’ll do that for me, won’t you, son?”
“Dad, it’s going to be years before we have to worry about that. But yeah. That has a kind of appeal to me, too. Nobody needs to know who I am, just that under that rock I lie peacefully on the land I love. I’ll do that, Dad.”
“I suppose we better head back before they send a search party out after us. I don’t know what Angus will do, though. His place ain’t doing any better than ours. Can’t imagine why we’re getting offers to buy. He might take it up.”
“Dad, that would kill Mary Beth. I know her sisters have moved off and got married and don’t plan to come back. But Mary Beth plans to die in that ranch house and I’d rather it wasn’t soon.”
“You care for her a lot, don’t you, son?” What the hell was I supposed to say to that? Yeah Dad, I fuck her every chance I get. That would go over big. I took a deep breath.
“She’s the closest and dearest relative I’ve got besides you and Mom. If it means I need to help her and maybe even manage her ranch and ours too, then I’ll do whatever is necessary. But don’t let Angus sell, Dad. Please.”
“Angus is like my brother. I lived there for eighteen years after Mama died. Hell, I married his little sister. I don’t know what we can do. Times are tight with that war in the Middle East and all. I thought we were done with Iraq, but then there’s Bosnia and Somalia. Seems they never run out of people to fight. I’ll talk to him. Maybe if we pool everything together, we can make it work. You and Mary Beth could be joint owners of a combined spread. Wouldn’t that be something?”
“Yeah. That would really be something, Dad.”
After the big dinner and everybody’s congratulations, I got a few gifts and then folks started to pack up. After Mary Beth’s sisters left, it was just the six of us sitting around the living room. Seemed that Uncle Angus kept looking over at Mary Beth until finally she said, “All right you guys. I’ve got a present for Cole, too and I suppose you all want to come and watch.”
Now that about knocked me over. Mary Beth hinted earlier that she had a present for me, but it wasn’t something I was going to want our parents to be watching. Hell! What was this all about?
She pulled me up by the hand and we all trooped outside with our folks following. Mary Beth led us to the horse barn.
“I know you love Buttercup, but that girl’s getting old. You’ve been riding her since you were what—eight? And she wasn’t a young horse then. So, I figured it was about time you started training up somebody who could give her a rest now and then.” She led me to a box stall in our barn and there was the most beautiful buckskin quarter horse I’d ever seen. He had a hide the color of a white-tail deer with a black mane, dorsal stripe, tail, and four black socks. There was a single streak of white on his face beneath the black forelock. He was young, but already stood close to sixteen hands. He was a beauty and I knew him already from hours and days in the saddle.
“Bolt,” I whispered. He swung his head around to look at me. I was a step closer to believing in reincarnation.
“He’s been gentled, but not ridden. You need to put a saddle on him and pony him up to the ridge with you. Just get him used to saddle and weight this summer. Let him learn from Buttercup. He’ll figure it out,” Mary Beth said.
“I’m going to need another saddle,” I laughed.
“Well, that’s what I figured,” Dad said. He led me to the tack room. Things had been cleared in the crowded room. Sitting on a saddle-bench in the middle of the room was a new saddle, tan—almost the color of the horse it would sit on. It wasn’t a show saddle with a bunch of silver and black trim on it. Now that I looked at it, I could tell it wasn’t even new, but it had been well-cared for and recently cleaned and oiled. This was a working High Roper saddle with a solid pommel and horn and a cantle high enough to sit back in. It had a minimum of tooling and wasn’t made to show off. My horse was showy enough. There was a matching headstall and snaffle bit, reins, and halter with a good lead rope. “The head gear is from your aunt and uncle,” Dad said. “The saddle is from Mom and me.”
I turned and hugged Dad. It had been a while since I’d done that and I regretted not doing it more often. Sometimes I wished Kyle could inhabit my body so he’d know what it was like to have a Mom and Dad who cared for him. I hugged Mom and then Uncle Angus and Aunt Lily together. Finally, I turned to Mary Beth. “That means you got me Bolt.” She nodded and I took her in my arms and gave her a very un-cousinly kiss. “How did you ever manage to find and afford a colt like this?” I asked in awe as we looked into the stall.
“You remember Joss? My roommate freshman year?” I remembered the woman Mary Beth roomed with in the dormitory before she got her apartment. She was a big-boned gal and almost dwarfed Mary Beth—and Mary Beth is no little slip of a girl. “Her family raises quarter horses up in Montana. I went up there with her on the first winter break we had because she said her favorite mare had just foaled. This big hunk is what popped out. I bought him on the spot. Well, sorta. I made payments for him for two years and they took care of stabling and gentling him. They know their horses up there and they did a good job with him.”
I turned to Mary Beth and took her in my arms again. This time the kiss I gave her started real tender-like, but it got serious real quick. I glanced up expecting our folks to be making some comment, but they’d left the barn. I looked at Mary Beth and damn, I loved that girl.
“Right here, Cole. Right now. I can’t wait any longer.”
“But Mary Beth,” I gasped as the girl threw herself onto me and I fell back on the bales. “Our folks. They’re going to be expecting us to come in. We gotta be careful.”
“Cole, do you really think they don’t know about us? If there was ever any doubt, the kiss you gave me after you got this horse would have taken care of that. Mom and Dad have known practically since the beginning. Honey, take me. Love me like I love you. We’ll figure out the rest.”
It wasn’t really me doing the taking this time. I was flat on my back on the hay bales and MB got out of her britches and had herself planted on my cock before I could get my jeans down past my knees. She was all over me and I was happy to be ridden. We never did make it into the house that night. I grabbed a sleeping bag from the camp room and we went up into the loft and made love all night long.
I headed up toward the mountains, ponying my new stud behind Buttercup along with my mule loaded with gear. I was taking a bunch of stuff up to the camp that the first riders couldn’t carry while they were herding. After I got up to the ridge on Wednesday, Dad would bring the truck up the back way (where Mary Beth and I had our first experience together) and bring the major food supplies in exchange for Jack who would ride back down to the ranch.
The whole way, for two days, I kept watching and waiting for Redtail, but to no avail. You’d think he stayed south all spring. The guys at camp were pleased to see me and were very complimentary about my new stud. I guess they all knew about it long before I did. George had gone up to Montana to haul Bolt back before the guys headed up into the mountains. This year we had another new guy with us—Ham. He was actually hired by Uncle Angus. We’d decided that it was dumb for us to keep our herds separate on the open range and we’d divide them when we got down the mountain. Dad and Angus had been talking about this for years, but early this spring they’d sent the guys out to ride the center fence line and take down the barbed wire. As I rode up to the camp I passed fencepost after fencepost with nothing between them.
I was thankful I hadn’t been snatched out of my body yet. I needed to do some scouting around. I studied the maps that I’d brought with me in a waterproof satchel. I had USGS topo maps of the entire State of Wyoming and Northern Colorado. I’d gotten a new hiking compass and studied how to use it so I could mark positions on the map. I had historical map reproductions from the 1890s for the entire Western U.S. On these maps, I’d carefully plotted out the last location known and the date of every lost treasure I’d researched. I was thinking that the next time I visited Kyle, we’d do some freelancing. Dad said the ranch was on hard times and I wasn’t above producing a little miracle of my own to save the farm.
Every time I scouted out on my own, I kept coming back to the old Mountain Douglas I’d carved our initials in. From there, I scouted back as best as I could remember to the place where the tepee hut had been. I’d walked to the tree and back with my arms around Laramie and my eyes not paying attention to anything else. It had been in a clearing, but I couldn’t find any clearing up in this area. I finally found a little thermal spring in an area with younger-looking trees. That had to be it.
The forest, untended for a hundred years, had grown over where our little cabin of bliss had been located. It took three weeks for me to find this area and then I was due to ride back down for my birthday celebration. I’d only be gone for five days, but I was anxious to find the landmarks I wanted before I got snatched back to wherever and whenever I was going next. After scuffing around near the spring for a while, my boot scuffed against some stone. I got down on my knees and cleared away the grass that had grown up around it. It was a pretty smooth rock. I brushed away the dirt and could see a few traces of color in the sandstone. I remembered the little scene Theresa Ranae had painted. I’d asked about the colors and paints the winter we were snowed in here. She’d told me it was all natural pigments, mostly mixed with fat. A lot like the dye job on my hair had been. She said most of it wouldn’t withstand a good rainstorm if the hut was gone. I couldn’t be sure the color I was seeing was something she’d put there or if it was just the natural color of the rock. Lichen grew on the rock—a remnant, I supposed, of before the forest had grown around it.
I was tempted to move the rock right now and look underneath it, but I hadn’t been back in time yet, so I didn’t even know if I’d been successful. I’d wait until I knew.
I waited until almost the end of summer and time for me to head down and start my first year of college. That lazy Redtail was flying circles in the sky all day long while I was out riding the herd. Just after I’d got back to camp and had had a plate of rice and beans, I heard the long shrill cry and relaxed.
Traveling: Freelancer
Kyle was agitated. He’d been on his way to meet Kat, whoever the hell that was, when the boy had run up to him and told him Sheriff Despain wanted to see him right now. Kyle told the boy to fuck off but turned his steps and headed for the sheriff’s office. On the way, I saw a familiar figure cross the street ahead of us. I started to pick up speed, but Laramie looked my way, turned her head, and hurried back the way she’d come. And in that turn, I’d seen a bump. A baby bump. I turned to follow her but Kyle yowled in my brain. Despain! Now! I relented and let Kyle do the driving. I’d go find Laramie as soon as the dreadful sheriff had his fill of us.
Kyle knocked on the sheriff’s door, but went on in without pausing.
“Sit down here, Kyle. I’ve got an errand for you. You’ll need to leave tonight. As soon as we’re done.”
I groaned. I’d just got here and hadn’t seen Laramie yet. Fortunately, Kyle was in control and the groan was inaudible.
“You got to go to Oregon and you need to hightail it.” He unfolded a map and showed the exact route Kyle was to take. “There’s a prospector up there. He’s been there for a few months, but he’s coming back to civilization. He’s not carrying much, but he’s not going to make it back to civilization.”
“You want me to kill him?” Kyle asked in disbelief. He’d killed, sure, but he’d never been sent out to gun down a man.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Kyle. You ain’t a hired gun. You’re a collector. Whatever reason this old guy doesn’t make it, you have to be there. As soon as he’s dead, you search him. I don’t know rightly what he has, but I’m guessing it’s a map or a deed. Whatever, he won’t need it once he’s gone. You get it and get back here. I’m figuring there might be early snow when you hit the mountains coming back. You just get over there, get the map and get back as soon as possible. I had the kid pack your mule. Get your horse and get out of here. Now.”
I swear Kyle damned near genuflected in front of Despain. We hightailed it out of there and straight to the stable. Kyle’s Bolt was saddled and ready to ride. I didn’t want to take over completely, but I damned well wanted to see Laramie again. Kyle protested, but I turned the horse to the boarding house that Kyle identified and rode around to the back. Why the hell had Laramie turned and run away from me?
Well, that thought triggered Kyle’s memory of just a bit ago when he’d first seen Laramie in town. He was on his way to court his girlfriend when Laramie ran toward him. Kyle had just put his head down and held up his hands. They’d avoided each other since. That was great. Now she just assumed it was Kyle Wardlaw instead of Kyle Redtail. Kyle stopped under a window and tossed a copper at it, then sat back and let me take over. The window opened and Laramie stuck her head out.
“Laramie,” I husked. “It’s me. I’m back.”
“Kyle! It is you. I love you. I’ll be right down.”
“No sweetheart. I’ve got to ride out right now. I’ve been sent on an errand. But you’re pregnant!”
“I’m carrying our baby again, Kyle. Hurry back to me.”
“Oh, I will, darling. I’m very happy! I gotta go now.”
I nudged the horse forward just as another window opened. Kyle frantically tried for control and I gave it over. What the hell?
“Kyle, what are you doing on a horse?” asked the almost-blonde doll who poked her head out the window. This little girl was seriously cute. She wasn’t tall like Mary Beth, but you couldn’t really call her petite, either. She looked like she had about the right amount of meat on her bones and a generous layer of fat up on her chest.
“Damned sheriff sent me on a mission. I gotta get out of town tonight, sugar,” Kyle said.
“Kyle! We were going do some sparkin’ tonight. I want to come ride with you.”
“You can’t do that, Kat. I gotta go clear to Oregon. I might not get back before spring.”
“I’ll wait for you, Kyle. I ain’t one of your dancehall girls. I’m sitting here at home or teaching school. That nice pregnant girl and her mama are pleasant company. Just know I’m waiting for you.”
“And you best know I’m coming back,” he said. “I’ll see you by spring, sugar!”
Kyle nudged Bolt into a quick trot with his mule following obediently behind. I just let him go. It was coming on winter. It looked like I’d be in Kyle’s head for a few months. And when we got back? Hell, I’d be a daddy again!
As Kyle pushed the animals over the Continental Divide, it was already nearly impassable. He kept muttering about why he couldn’t have been told earlier. I knew why, of course. Despain’s time traveler hadn’t arrived much before I did. There was something about this find that had rung his chimes. I went over all the lost treasure reports I’d been memorizing. There were all kinds of lost gold mine legends that didn’t have the credibility of newspaper reports of stage or bank robberies. The most famous, of course, was the Lost Dutchman, but even though one report was that it was in Colorado and another in California, the most common were that it was somewhere in Arizona. And a lost mine would be a problem if the time traveler intended to go open the mine in the 20th century. There were things like mineral rights and Federal Lands and all that needed to be dealt with.
It all bugged me. Kyle had never been sent quite this far away and it seemed senseless to go so far for a map or a deed that couldn’t be transferred to the 20th century. Something stunk about all this. I couldn’t remember a single lost treasure story that would send us into this part of Oregon.
Kyle didn’t care. He was just doing as he was told and seeing that he was going to get his reward. Kyle was really a pretty simple fellow. I suppose that’s why Despain trusted him. I mean, the kid had probably handled more gold and U.S. Government notes than anyone even in my day could ever hope to see. But he was content with the fact that he was getting “a cut,” of the profit and would never begin to think of needing more than that. He always had plenty of money, but not so much as to be flashy. He bought nice things and the best whores. But he didn’t own any property and he didn’t flash around more money than it seemed he should have from his “guard missions” that Despain sent him out on.
It puzzled me, but I had a lot of time to think about it and go over in my mind thinking about the various stories I’d collected and the maps I’d made. I was so quiet that sometimes I caught Kyle wondering if I was still around or if I’d been called back to wherever I came from. When I followed his thoughts, they were mostly about the woman Kat, and a few about Laramie. I guess I wasn’t surprised at that. He was present when I was using his body to make love to the most wonderful woman in the world. And she was pregnant with our baby. I guess what surprised me is that he thought of her fondly, but thought of Kat as a possible mate.
Hmm. Kat Tangeman, new school teacher who had met Kyle at the one year anniversary celebration of Wyoming’s statehood this summer. It had taken most of the summer for Kyle to get up the nerve to court her, after Despain had sent him out again. Then Laramie had arrived and it confused Kyle because he didn’t know what he should do with the two of them rooming in the boarding house next door to each other. Since that first encounter, though, Laramie had been discreet and seemed to understand. Kyle was in a panic over what he’d do when I took control and went to see Laramie instead of Kat.
I had to laugh when I finally got the whole story. We were two very different guys who occasionally shared the same body and we were in love with two women who lived next to each other. This had sitcom written all over it.
It looked like we had a few months to get ourselves back in balance and for now I was just letting Kyle go about the business he knew best. It was late-October when we finally hunkered down at the foot of White’s Peak to wait for the guy who was about to die. I wondered what was going to happen. Was there someone waiting in ambush? Would he have an accident? Was there a trap here somewhere?
The more I thought about the latter, the warier I became. I wasn’t sure what would happen if Kyle got himself killed while I was in his mind and I wasn’t anxious to find out. My distrust of Despain was rubbing off on my host as well. We set up a dry camp in the shelter of an overhang that Kyle draped with his wagon canvas. I was going to suggest that it should be painted in camouflage, but it was so filthy from use that it was the same color as the rocks anyway. Kyle changed out of his jeans and shirt and put on his buckskins. They were warmer than the city clothes, especially since he kept his union suit on. Instead of his normal riding boots, he pulled on soft fur-lined boots. He was preparing to move quickly and quietly. By day we kept watch on the trail. By night we huddled in a sleeping fur without lighting a fire.
On the third day we were there, we heard the jingle of harness. It was the first sign of life we’d had since we got here. The old man who came into view looked like a prospector and wasn’t even carrying a firearm. He walked in front of a mule, using a long stick as a third leg. He was just a few feet from where we hid near the trail when he stopped short and looked around.
“I know you’re there, you goddamned bastard!” the old man shouted. “You vulture. I’ll make sure you never see cent one. Gnaw on these tough old bones and see what I care!” He started to laugh, but that degenerated into a coughing fit that brought the old man to his knees. The coughing didn’t stop and I saw him spitting up blood.
I grabbed the canteen and pushed out of the bushes over Kyle’s protests. He was instructed to wait till the old man was dead and then take what was on him. I wasn’t going to let a poor guy suffer in front of me if I could help him.
“Easy, old timer. Have a sip of water.” I loosened his shirt at the neck and listened to his breathing. It stopped and I started compressions on his chest. He choked and more spittle ran from his mouth, then he opened his eyes.
“Who the hell are you?” the man gasped. “You’re not him. He can’t even do his own dirty work, can he?”
“I’ve got a camp just up the slope. Let’s get you warm and get some food in you. You’ll make it. You just had a bad spell here, is all.” After I’d given him another drink, I picked the old guy up and carried him to our camp. His mule just followed along and when he saw Bolt and my mule he just nudged them over and put his head down. I started a fire and the little shelter warmed up fast.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked when I’d given him some coffee? I don’t suppose that’s the right thing to do for a guy whose heart had just stopped a few minutes before, but it was all I had.
“I won’t just stand around and watch a man die if I can do something about it,” I mumbled. Kyle was going crazy. That was just what he was supposed to do. “Besides, I’d like to know what was so important about letting you die and searching you for a piece of paper.” The old man started to laugh again, but I put a hand on his chest to calm him and he settled before it turned into a coughing fit.
“This is what he wants, then,” the old guy finally whispered. He struggled to reach down into his pants like he needed to take a leak and pulled out a filthy scrap of hide. It was pretty cryptic. Kyle couldn’t read, but I could make out the words and landmarks it referred to. It would take a fair amount of deciphering to make sense of it.
“Is it real?” I asked.
“Real enough. There’s a chest there with over a thousand double-eagles and God-knows how many jewels.” He chuckled, careful not to go too far into laughter. “He’ll be so disappointed.”
“Who is he?”
“You’re one of us, ain’t you?” The old man looked into my eyes and I saw the same kind of disconnectedness that I’d seen in Despain. I was looking at another time-traveler. He could see the same thing. “Does he know?”
“I don’t think anyone knows,” I said. “I didn’t know there were others until I met Despain. Who is he?”
“We stay pretty well hidden. Not just from normal people, but from each other. I’ve been in and out of this body for forty years. But a few years ago, I met another one. Greedy little bastard. All he wanted to know was how much treasure I’d collected. I kept asking how much does a man need? He wants everything.”
“I just won’t give him this, then. He doesn’t need any more.”
“You have to. You’re risking upsetting the timeline as it is. If I don’t die up here and you take the map, who knows what might happen. In fact, I don’t think you could avoid doing it. I’m going to die here on this trail. History records it. But it’s a little vague on the exact date. Just that it will be as I’m coming down from my prospecting toward Prineville.”
“Doesn’t everything we do upset the timeline? I mean those treasures he’s collecting are lost.”
“They still are. You can only affect things in the present. Until then, you only get to pick what happens inside Schrödinger’s box.” Schrödinger. The name rang a bell. Something about a cat that was both dead and alive until you opened the box. Then it was one or the other. “But here’s the thing. You need the tools to fight whatever his scheme is in your timeline. In this case, tools mean money. Then you just do what’s right in your time.”
“Sounds good. I could sure use some cash in uptime. Things are going to hell. But good old Kyle works for Despain who is the body for this other guy you don’t know. I don’t trust him all that much when I’m not in him.”
“It’s part of the risk. Let me talk to him.” I was surprised, but I backed off and let Kyle take control. He was still agitated.
“Damn it! You’re supposed to be dead. Why are you still alive?”
“I’m dying, Kyle. Everything is just like he said. But you’ve got an important thing to do. You have to bring him that map, just like he said. And I want to thank you for that and for your kindness in easing my dying. Kyle, this is just for you. Nobody needs to know about it but you. Keep it safe, and pass it down to your children. Don’t let Despain know you have it. Now I’m going to die and make it okay for you.” He handed Kyle a gold pocket watch. And I took control again so I could say goodbye to the old timer. I shoved the watch deep in my pouch with the map.
“You think that will do it?” I asked.
“Find the watch when you get home. You’ll figure it out. And go to my mule. There are ten bars of gold. Your man didn’t say to get gold, but the history says there was nothing of value on my person or in my packs. Hide them someplace where you can use them for your needs when you get back. But it’s only a stopgap. The watch is your key. Fight the greedy bastard on his own turf.”
The old man drew a ragged breath. I assured him that I’d do what was necessary. He looked into my eyes.
“Sure wish I knew what happened when the body you’re traveling in dies. He looked up and I could see he was gone.
I retrieved the gold bars from his mule’s pack and didn’t check anything else. I changed into Kyle’s riding clothes, doused the fire, and broke camp. I moved my horse and mule down the trail about half a mile and then went back to erase the signs of my camp and passing. I took the old man’s body down to the trail where I’d first picked him up and laid him back in the position I’d found him. His mule followed me as far as the old man, but went no further. I backtracked through the woods and took my horse and mule cross-country, avoiding Prineville, and heading south.
My goal was to get out of the mountains. It was late October and damn cold. It was going to be a hard winter. I was tempted to head back home, but the Yellowstone had been a hard crossing on the way here and I wasn’t about to try it till spring. But I figured there was one place we could take shelter for the winter just a ways south—Reno.
Kyle didn’t seem to be displeased and I saw a flicker of lust cross his mind as he thought about the whorehouses there. He’d never been there, but had heard stories. This flash of lust was unaccountably followed by a flash of guilt. I had long ago surrendered to Kyle’s tastes when I was away from Laramie, so I knew the guilt wasn’t associated with that. Unless Kyle had developed feelings for her as well, but that didn’t make sense. He’d been happy enough when I fucked her, but since the very first time he’d considered her hands-off unless he was in one of those strange moods where there was someone else taking control. He never quite figured that out.
We passed five uneventful and boring months in Reno. For the most part, I was content to let Kyle control what we did and discovered that he wasn’t that adventurous. I’d always considered him an asshole for the way he was treating Laramie when we first met and then for the way he’d used my loving techniques to make the whores fall all over him. But he was turning out to be a pretty decent guy. He took a room in a boarding house rather than in a whorehouse. That was a lot cheaper. He had a few beers on Friday nights, but I made sure to steer him clear of potential fights if necessary. And he enjoyed a lady’s company at least one night a week, showing them all the pleasure that he could while paying them for the privilege.
The first time Kyle found a whore in Reno, I was surprised at the resurgence of his guilt. I been whoring all my life. It ain’t like I never done it before. It never bothered me to go whoring when I’d been with Laramie. But now it’s different. Maybe Kat wouldn’t want me to go whoring while she’s waiting for me to come back. Why do I feel bad about this? Hell, I ain’t even been with her! Kyle managed to do it anyway and each time it became a little easier.
What surprised me most was that Kyle was antsy to do something. It was with a bit of reluctance that I followed his lead into a gambling hall where instead of placing a wager, he went to see the management about a job. Inside an hour he was dealing Faro. And he was pretty good at it. I found out he’d done it before when there was time between Despain’s jobs. There wasn’t much action in Laramie, but Kyle had made trips to Deadwood half a dozen times in the past five years. It was good to know.
Having Kyle safely taken care of left me with nothing to do but think as I rested in the back of his mind. How soon will it thaw so I can go back to Laramie? What else can I do to occupy my time? During that respite, I started going through the catalog of lost treasures that I’d compiled. Kyle had never been as far west as Reno. I was tempted to go on to San Francisco since I knew there was a bank looting that would occur after the Great Quake, but we had Donner Pass between us and San Francisco. I wasn’t going to attempt that at this time of year. On the other hand, if we headed northeast, we’d get to Salt Lake City. There were a good number of lost treasures in Utah, most of them in the North. I started calculating a route where we could pick up a few extra dollars before we made it back to Wyoming. It would be nice to leave Laramie with a little nest egg beyond what she had already. When I started letting those thoughts leak into Kyle’s consciousness, he seemed pleased that he’d thought of such a thing. Before it had stopped snowing in the mountains in March, I packed the horse and mule and headed northeast.
The first lost treasure opportunity overtook us when we’d been a week on the road and were near Winnemucca. I’d taken shelter in a canyon protected from the harsh wind by a small copse of trees. There was a rise near the back of the canyon where I could see down toward the entrance. I found a place where I was unlikely to be stumbled upon by any other traveler and went back to erase my trail for a mile. I’d allowed myself a small fire to heat my jerky stew, but in the waning daylight, the tiny smoke tendril would gain no attention.
Along about nightfall I heard the jangle of horses riding hard, right into my canyon. I scuffed dirt over my little fire and hunkered down to wait them out. I listened close. There had to be a dozen horses to make that much noise and then I heard the squeal of a wagon brake. There were shouts and eventually everything got quiet.
“There’s no way out of this canyon, Sal. You might as well all give it up now.” I heard a voice yell. Well, they weren’t after me, but I still wasn’t going to answer.
“Ain’t no way I’ll leave here alive, BJ. I got the advantage. How many men do I get to kill before you get me? You might as well just leave.”
“We’ll wait for you, Sal. You can’t stay there forever. That gold is mine.”
“You said we’d split fair and square, then you tried to cheat my boys out of theirs. Well, now you got the right of it. The gold is ours now.”
There was a lot of hustle below us and we could hear two groups of men getting ready to fight. It wasn’t likely anything would get started, so I kicked back with a gun in my hand and went to sleep.
The first shot was fired before daybreak. By dawn, a barrage of gunfire was being laid down on the part of both groups. I figured at the rate they were shooting, they’d run out of bullets before too long. It started to die down before noon. Finally, there were no more shots. After a few minutes pause I heard a voice.
“Sal? I still got a bullet for you, little brother.”
“Yer gonna hafta come and deliver it, BJ. Ain’t nobody left to back you up.”
“You got any bullets, Sal?”
“Jest one.”
“Come on out, Sal. It’s just us.”
I could see from my hiding place now. Just below me in the canyon were a half-dozen bodies and a Conestoga wagon with no cover. Behind the wagon was one man who looked like he’d already taken a couple rounds. At the opening of the canyon, there was a lone man leaning against his horse. Another half-dozen bodies lay near him and two horses were down. The nearer horses were corralled back in the trees.
“You ain’t gonna win this, BJ.”
“Come on, Sal. The last man alive is the richest man on earth. Holster yer gun and let’s do it between the two of us. Who’s really the best.”
“You been taunting me with that since I was in diapers, BJ,” Sal yelled. “You always said I was just the little brother and too small to ride with you big boys. Well, brother, I rode and what’s mine is up to you to take. I won’t kill you in cold blood, BJ. Come out and show me your gun is holstered.”
“I always trusted you, Sal. Here I come.” The farther man stepped out around his horse. His hands were poised above his holsters. I saw the nearer man—Sal—reach down and pick up a gun from a fallen comrade and shove it in his holster. His own gun he held in his left hand, just behind his hip. I hate cheaters. I settled back and watched, giving Kyle full control. I wasn’t surprised to feel him reach for his Winchester.
The two brothers faced each other across about 20 yards of open ground. The condition they were both in, I doubted either of them could hit the other. It wasn’t so, though. As soon as Sal was in the open, BJ reached for his gun. Sal’s was already out and swinging to bear on his brother. Only one shot rang out and BJ fell before his gun had cleared leather. Sal walked to his brother and kicked the gun out of his hand. He picked it up and put the last bullet in BJ’s head. Just when he turned around, the gun in my hands rang out and Sal fell on top of his brother.
So far as I knew, there had never been a report of a dozen bodies found in a box canyon with a wagonload of gold. That meant we had a clean-up job to do. It was going to take a while. I walked down into the canyon from our hiding place and checked all the bodies to be sure no one was alive. I heard one moan, but it was his death rattle. I was going to have to dig a big hole.
I chose the spot closest to the dead horses. They’d be the hardest to drag into a pit. I dug all the rest of the day before I finally went back to my camp and bedded down. The next morning, I dug again. Coyotes had been after the dead bodies and I figured I’d better get them buried today. When I deemed the hole big enough, I tied a rope around the horse carcasses and had the mule drag them forward until they fell into the pit. I stripped off the saddle bags, but left the saddles on those horses. Then I went through the bodies and stripped them of anything I found valuable and tossed the dead men into the pit. It took me the better part of the night to cover them up.
In the morning’s light, I looked to the other horses. I tossed ten saddles into the back of the Conestoga along with the boxes that I didn’t bother opening. There was feed for the animals and grazing among the junipers so I fixed a corral by stretching ropes from the wagon to trees along the edge of the canyon. Any horse that had a mind to could get out, but I was counting on herd mentality to keep them in. I was exhausted and slept like one of the dead men until morning.
After I’d fixed some coffee and stew over my campfire in the morning, I sorted things out to get moving again. I used my canvas to cover the wagon and was pleased that it fit well. I found a nice matched pair of Percherons and hitched them to the wagon and created a stringer of horses and one mule behind. The twelve animals behind me erased all sign of people having been in the canyon, even flattening out the grave as we rode over it.
As I headed east, I stopped at any town big enough to have a stable and sold a saddle. Occasionally I traded for another horse, or if I saw a fine mare, I’d buy it outright. I hired a blacksmith in the little town of Elko to make a branding iron for me and marked each of the horses with the LK brand.
There was about to be a war in Wyoming between the sheep herders and the cattlemen. Most of it would be up north where the Mormons were moving in, but it would extend south as well. It was the worst time of history for the State of Wyoming. But I could insulate my lover if she was raising horses on her new ranch. I’d bring her a herd to start with.
I stopped south of Salt Lake and boarded my sixteen horses and hired a guard for my possessions at the stable. I told them I was picking up some more horses down south a little and would be back in two weeks. It was still too early to make the crossing over the Continental Divide, but my memory told me there was another treasure about to be lost.
This was a tricky one and I was sure that Despain had decided it was okay to pass this up in favor of the old prospector’s treasure map. A transport wagon headed north to Salt Lake City was about to be attacked by Uinta warriors. All that would ever be found of it would be the burned-out wagon and six dead men. The Indians took their dead from the field with them. They had no interest in the gold the wagon was supposed to be transporting. The transport had violated the sanctity of their tribal burial grounds and the Indians were pissed. I took a string of four mules with me, not knowing if this would be enough to take everything. It turned out to be plenty.
I changed into my buckskins and watched from a rise a mile away as the short battle took place. There were as many Indian casualties as white but there were many more of them in the fight. With the wagon blazing and the horses taken, the Indians took their dead and their coup and rode back to camp.
I approached cautiously, careful of any lingering hostiles. When I reached the wagon, I discovered four chests with gold ingots in them. Each chest weighed around two hundred pounds. I could lift one, but it was difficult. I loaded a hundred pounds of gold bars on each side of each of the mules. Two of the chests were already charred. I broke all four up and relit the fire to be sure they were completely consumed.
I detoured through Provo on my way back to Salt Lake City and bought a string of six matched Morgans. There was a lot of weight to haul over the mountains.
We approached Laramie from the Rock Springs Pass and made our way south above Centennial and up on the ridge. The first thing I did was locate the old hut. A year abandoned and the mud had washed through in a number of places. The sandstone slab was already showing signs of wear with the paint running together. I wedged up the rock and deposited ten gold bars under it. I proceeded to the Douglas fir where I’d made love to Laramie. I dug in the ground where I recalled a cow being stuck in the future and deposited a hundred bars deep beneath the roots.
I didn’t know what to do with the rest. I hadn’t explored the area enough to find a good hiding place, but I was getting a nudge from Kyle and followed it south to the point where the Centennial Ridge ended abruptly. I followed my instincts down a narrow path and found a cave. Inside I lit a branch and saw six more chests. Kyle had been putting aside his savings—his portion of what he found for Despain. If this was only a tithe of what Despain was accumulating, I was facing a really powerful enemy when I got home. I took the remaining gold bars, only a couple dozen at a time, down the path and into the cave. I did my best to hide them behind the boxes so they wouldn’t shine if someone flashed a light around, but I’d just have to have faith. In my day, a thousand pounds of gold was worth more than $20,000,000. I was going to save the ranch. In addition, there were six chests under the tarp on the Conestoga. They weighed a little less than a gold chest, but I carted them down and stacked them in Kyle’s hoard. He was feeling pretty pleased.
I branded the rest of my horses and mules and let them free on the upper range. Grass was peeking through the snow now and I knew they’d be okay until Laramie could round them up. I left the wagon backed up against the remains of the hut and headed back to Laramie. I’d shared fully with Kyle that the gold bars I’d hidden in the hut and under the tree were not to be disturbed. He’d restocked himself with Franklins when I was in the cave. I’d put one gold bar in his saddlebag to give to Laramie so she’d be able to hire help on the ranch.
And with the thought of Laramie we turned toward town. It had been nine months since I’d seen her. We’d have a baby. I wonder what she named this one. Did I have a son?
I was so absorbed in my thoughts as I rode toward town that I didn’t see the hawk before he cried.
Buying the Farm
“Cole! It’s your shift. Grab some coffee and saddle up. Shorty’s got breakfast ready.” George was kicking my boots. I couldn’t believe I’d fallen asleep against a tree all night. Asleep. No. I hadn’t been asleep. I’d been gone. And I came back without seeing Laramie and my new son. God damn it! I could have stayed a little longer. Why did the damned hawk pull me back before I got there?
I was despondent to say the least. No one at the campfire could figure out why I woke up so morose, though. I just blamed it on falling asleep outside and saddled my horses. Bolt ponied along behind and I thought that I could probably ride him with no difficulty. I’d just spent nine months on his counterpart in 1892. I let good sense get the better of me, though, and determined not to ride him until spring. We’d be working together, though, all winter long.
I waited until the last day I was on the upper range before I returned to the slab of sandstone where the hut had once been. I guess I still had the fear that it was all in my imagination. Even if I found nothing there, what would that mean? That Kyle had betrayed me and taken all the gold? That I’d never really been there in the first place? I found the thermal spring first and then the stone. Grass had grown up all around it during the summer. I scuffed it aside and started prying at the rock. I didn’t remember it being so hard to move, but then I realized that the edges were still grown over with sod. I scraped and cleaned and eventually managed to move the stone.
I didn’t see anything at first. I pushed the stone back so I could reach in without crushing my hands. I felt it before I could see it. Cold and pure. I pulled out the first bar of gold. Then the second. In a matter of ten more minutes, I had ten two pound bars of gold in front of me. I dropped the rock back into its hole and scuffed grass and brush over it. No one needed to know where I’d “found” half a million dollars. I stuffed it in my saddlebags and headed down the mountain toward home.
“Dad, can we talk?” I asked. It was the second evening since I’d been back from the high range. The first was spoken for by Mary Beth. She only had another two days before she had to return to Boulder for her senior year. And I was headed into Laramie for my freshman year at UW. We’d come to an agreement, though. We were going into partnership to take over the two ranches if our Dads would let us. We just needed to keep things together until we were out of school, but we filed papers to create the Alexander Bell Cattle Company. Now I needed to speak to Dad.
“Sure, son. You know we can always talk. What’s on your mind.”
“I had a lot of time to do some thinking up on the range,” I said. “I need to know exactly what the condition of the ranch is and our family finances. I know you always take care of these things, but I’ve got at least a partial solution to our problems, I think, if I know what the problems are.”
“Son, it’s your perfect right to know what is happening out here. I asked if you wanted the ranch so it’s only right that you should know what condition it’s in. In a word, it’s pretty bleak. These last three years have been hard on us. There’s been a recession in the beef industry and with the plague that ran through our herd last winter, we lost a ton of money. I had to buy hay for the first time in years because of the draught. Like a lot of ranchers, I took out a second mortgage to cover our operating expenses.”
“Wait, Dad. Why a second mortgage. I thought the farm was grandma’s and it didn’t have a first mortgage.”
“Well, that’s true until we decided to expand the herd a few years ago. You shift capital from one asset to another. To buy more cows, we took out mortgages on the ranches.”
“Dad, how much do we owe?”
“Between Angus and me, we owe close to a million dollars, Cole. We’re mortgaged to the hilt and then there’s your tuition coming due.”
“How much are we past due?” Dad took a deep breath.
“We’re not yet. January. We have a short term note for $300,000 due in January. That’s why that damned Teini’s offer is so tempting.”
“Wait. Who?”
“Joe Teini. Teini’s offered to buy us both out for double what we owe.”
“Don’t do it, Dad. I can help.”
“I appreciate the spirit, Cole, but I’m getting too tired to fight.”
“Dad. Here.” I pushed a shoe box at him that weighed twenty pounds.”
“Is this your life savings, son? It’s pretty heavy.”
“Just look, Dad.”
He opened the box and picked up a bar. He turned it over. There were no marks on it. It was just a cast bar of gold.
“Cole? Is this gold?”
“I don’t know how pure it is, but I’d guess it’s at least 22 carat. There should be about $400,000 worth in that box. You’ll have to pay an agent’s fee or commission when you sell it, but that should still cover the note that’s due in January.”
“But how do I explain bars of gold? Cole, where did you get this?”
“You can tell the exact truth, Dad. It was found on your property. I did a lot of research on buried treasure last year, especially what to do with it if you find it. There’s no tax on gold. It’s yours. It’s part of your land. You take it to one of those big houses that deal in gold. They deposit a check in your bank. You pay the loan. Now, Dad, there is no more where this batch came from, but I’m confident I can find more. Don’t tell anyone you have this. Just go and sell it and pay the loan. Next summer we’ll take the next step. We just have to be careful and not make a big deal about it. And we have to not let Joe Teini know where the money came from.”
“I’m more worried about the IRS,” Dad laughed. “You’re sure about the tax thing?”
“As far as I can find, money you have, including gold, is not subject to any taxes. It has no history and is not income. It’s not stock. I don’t know about capital gains, but they’d have to prove that the gold added some specific amount to your property’s value and they can’t prove that unless you sell the ranch. And Mary Beth and I are asking that you and Uncle Angus sell your property to us on contract for deed. It doesn’t even need to be registered.”
“Cole? What’s going on? Where did you get this?” Dad was every inch the concerned parent, now. I suppose he thought I was transporting drugs or something. If he only knew how much lost treasure there was in this country—or how many people were competing for it.
“Dad, I sometimes have… dreams. One night while I was up on the ridge, I dreamed that I hid gold under a rock up there. I was just curious, so I decided on the last day I was up there to go look. I found the place exactly like I dreamed it. I didn’t have to dig very far to find it.”
“And you’ve had more dreams like this?”
“Yeah. But it wouldn’t do to come up with too much all at once. This is from Mary Beth and me as an investment from our new cattle company. We formed a partnership.”
Dad couldn’t really speak. I could tell by the look in his eyes that he thought he’d lost the ranch. He just reached over and hugged me.
“Your grandma would be so proud of you,” he whispered.
It was the second time I’d ever heard Dad mention my grandma. She died soon after he was born in 1955. He’d been taken in by his godparents, Arthur and Myrtle Alexander, who were trustees for his inheritance—the ranch next door to theirs. They were scrupulous about keeping the operations separate and accounted for. That’s one of the reasons Dad and Angus had waited so long to go into partnership and mix their herds. It was also why Dad was living in the same house as Mom when he grew up and they were married when he got out of the service in ’74. I was born in ’76.
Family is so weird, don’t you think. They say you can pick your seat and you can pick your nose, but you can’t pick your relatives. I guess I wouldn’t want to, really. I got pretty lucky.
Still… I miss my Dad.
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