by Bo Drury
There didn't seem to be anyone out and about. It was close to noon; most of the hired help had probably gone in to eat. It was a goat ranch. He had seen some cattle but not near as many as goats. He had always heard goats and cattle couldn't graze the same range.
As he admired the landscape, it was too late when he realized the sound he heard was a rifle shot. It knocked him to his knees and the surrounding landscape faded out.
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Chapter 9
Regaining consciousness slowly, he didn't remember what had happened until he felt the cool wet ground beneath him. Sitting up, he reached for his head; the movement gave him a tremendous pain. Once again he pulled back fingers sticky with blood.
“This is getting ridiculous,” he said, remembering the last blow he'd had.
It was pitch black. He didn't have a clue where he was. He was certain it wasn't hell ‘cause it was too blasted cold. He was shivering. He wasn't about to try and stand up yet. He wouldn't know which way to go if he did.
He wondered if he was in a hole or a cellar. “Hello!” His voice echoed. Wherever he was, it sounded big and hollow.
Still carrying a lighter out of habit, he pulled it out of his pocket and lit up the space around him with the tiny flame. There was nothing to see. The light flickered; there was a draft blowing through there anyway. That gave him some hope. He could follow the direction of the current of air. His light went out. How much fluid was left in the lighter? Would it be enough?
For the first time the seriousness of his predicament occurred to him. No one knew where he was. The note he left Scott only said “Be back shortly". He'd hidden his car so well it could be weeks before anyone would find it. What a hell of a mess he was in now!
Thinking back over what happened, he could see someone was keeping a close watch on this end of the ranch. Why? What is up here? He supposed he was still in the same area. He must be in a cave. He knew there were caves in the area. The Sonora Caverns were close by. There was probably a maze of them around this part of the country. He had to find a way out.
Flicking his lighter again, he stood up carefully, making sure he had his balance, and peered into the darkness beyond. Holding the flame down where he could see the ground, he took a step. This will never do. I need a torch. He hated to give up his shirt—he was still shivering from the damp cold—but he could do without his shorts.
Extinguishing the light, he stripped down, removing his underwear to use as a torch. He hoped they would make a flame and not just smolder. Dressing quickly, he tried to light the wadded up cloth. It wouldn't flame up. He had to have something that would flame up...his credit cards; he needed to get rid of them anyhow. Maybe they would burn.
Pulling out his billfold, he found more than credit cards. There were several pieces of paper folded and tucked away in it. He couldn't remember what it was. It didn't matter; making a torch was most important. He rolled the paper and placed it in the cloth, leaving some of the paper exposed. Using the lighter again, he lit the paper; it burned quickly till it reached the material and then it burned slowly, giving off some light.
Not waiting to see how well it would work, Harry moved quickly in the direction of the draft. Suddenly he stopped. A dark pit of blackness yawned before him. His light flickered and went out.
Harry took several steps backward. That was close. He couldn't tell how deep it might have been. Maybe he went the wrong way. Discouraged, he sat still, listening to the quietness in the dark.
He could hear the ripple of running water. An underground river? For a minute, panic gripped him when he recalled tales of torrential rains rushing through caverns, drowning adventuresome spelunkers who were never found. They were down here someplace; it was a natural tomb.
“Shake it off, Harry,” he told himself, “you're getting spooked...”
He didn't know how far he had come from where he started; it couldn't have been very far. Should he feel his way back away from the danger in front of him? Or was the danger behind him? A man could go mad like this. He flicked on his lighter, welcoming the comfort of the tiny flame.
He knew he was on his own; there was no one to help him. But what could he do? He lay back and closed his eyes. He thought of Doris. If he ever got out of here, things were going to be different. Thinking of the way she had held him this morning, he drifted off.
Waking with a start, he thought something was crawling on him but figured out it was water running in a small stream beside him. Wondering where it was coming from, he put out his hand; it ran in a steady stream. When he cupped his hand, the water gathered in a small pool. It was coming from behind him. If he followed the stream, maybe it would lead him out. At least it was something to do.
Putting more paper in his ‘torch,’ he lit the way for some distance before it pooped out on him again. He would have to feel his way. It would be slow. There was danger of a sudden drop off.
He was climbing up a gradual incline. He had to stop often. There was no sound other than his own labored breathing and the soft sound of the water rushing by. He felt he walked for hours, at times almost going straight up.
He must have been miles below ground. The stream of water became deeper, making a gurgling sound, moving fast.
How much further could he go? The tunnel was narrowing; at times he had to squeeze through. He could see shadows; light was coming from someplace. Where? His heart pounded with excitement. How long had he been in there? He saw a narrow crevice ahead. Light streamed through it, a way out.
He studied it with a sinking heart. It was too narrow for him to get through. To come so far to find a dead end—it couldn't be.
He looked around. Light reflected off the water that trickled through the opening and glistened on the wet surfaces. Reflections played patterns on the stone walls. Searching the cavern, he found another level beneath him and water pooling there. Light filtered in there too. If he lowered himself down, would he find a way out, or would he be condemning himself to death? Maybe there was no way out.
He sat down, exhausted. He had to make a decision. There was no way out on this level unless he went back and found another tunnel. Certainly there was one but he was too tired to go that distance and maybe find nothing. At least it was light here and there was water. How long could he survive on water alone?
Deciding to risk it, Harry dropped over the edge to the floor below. He was in a dome-shaped room. Water cascaded down a wall and formed a waterfall that fed the pool.
Harry studied the waterfall. What might be past it? Careful not to fall on the slippery surface, he worked his way to the cascading water and found a wide open area beyond. The light from the opening filtered through the water and into the room. It was beautiful. Through the gloom toward the far end he saw another tunnel branching off. The light seemed to follow him; he wondered if he was hallucinating. At some point, the stream of water had disappeared and he was walking on dry ground.
He could see an opening ahead.
Pushing aside a growth of underbrush, he walked out into the sunlight and looked on a crystal clear pond nestled in an outcropping of hills. All he could see in any direction were trees and white rock.
Where was the ranch? Climbing to higher ground, he made out a highway off to the east. It was a long way off. The river had to run somewhere between him and the road.
How far north of the ranch was he? Making his way back down to the water's edge, he drank thirstily. The water was cold. He leaned back to rest.
Remembering his head wound, he wet the material he had left from the torch and bathed his head. The bullet had only creased him but it had been enough to knock him cold.
He wondered where the other opening was to the cavern. Who put him in there? Had they left him to die, or were they coming back to kill him later? They would be in for a surprise.
How did they get him in there in the first place? The opening had to be close to where he was when he woke up. The person who
put him there had to be strong to handle a man of his height and weight. Maybe there were two of them. That had never occurred to him.
Right now he needed to figure a way to get back to his car. Reluctantly, he stood and started in the general direction of the ranch. “Come on, feet, we got miles to go.”
It was dark as he approached the back side of the ranch house. Stopping to rest and deciding which way to go, he felt the presence of a warm body beside him. Turning very slowly, he looked into the wolf hound's glowing eyes.
“You would scare a guy to death, you ugly mutt.” Reaching out, he ruffled the hair on its shaggy head then glimpsed the green eyes of the other two behind him. “It's good to see some friendly faces,” he whispered. “How am I going to get to my car without being seen?” Without a sound the dogs walked away. Harry sat there a minute then followed them.
If anyone looked in his direction, they would see the dogs; they were good cover. He was so grateful at the moment, they could have lifted their leg and he wouldn't have said a word. They seemed to know where he wanted to go.
He was almost to his car when he heard Orlando call them in. He flattened out on the ground as they ran. The big male hesitated, looking back at Harry, then followed his companions.
Harry crawled into the brush and made his way to the little Mustang. Waiting for the ranch hands to settle in for the night before he started the motor, he thought back on all that had taken place since the Stocktons came into his office and hired him. It seemed like a long time ago, but it had only been a week.
Easing the car onto the road, he made his way back to the motel.
The light was on in Scott's room, but Harry needed to clean up and his head hurt like hell. He didn't feel like explaining anything tonight. He would wait till morning to check in.
The message light was blinking on his phone. It was Scott telling him Josh was looking for him. Josh would have to wait. It had been a long day and he was beat; the bath and bed were all he wanted now. The feel of clean sheets on a soft bed was like a little bit of heaven.
The ringing of the phone pulled him from a deep sleep. The abrupt voice on the other end said, “Harry, I'm on my way over.”
That was all he needed, to talk to Josh before he had a cup of coffee. Easing his aching body from the comfort of his bed was no easy task. Limping across the room, he pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt and sat down. His feet were swollen and wouldn't fit in his boots. He wasn't ready to share his experience with the law. The long sleeves of his shirt covered the scratches on his arms but nothing could hide the sunburned face and parched lips. The escapade of the day before had taken a toll on him. He pulled on some socks to cover his sore feet from the prying eyes of the nosy deputy pulling in the drive.
Harry watched as the deputy got out of his car and walked to the Mustang, going around it slowly, examining it thoroughly.
“Now what is he doing, checking out my car?”
Opening the door, Harry stepped out. “Morning, Josh.”
Josh walked to the door “Where were you yesterday, Harry?”
“Here and there, why?”
“You were seen driving out of town.”
“I went sightseeing.”
“Did you go to Crystoval?”
“No,” he said, stepping aside as Josh entered the room. Josh took off his hat and sat down in the only chair. Harry sat down on the bed.
“What's up, Josh, you asking me all these questions?”
“There was a man killed yesterday up by Crystoval. It was a hit and run. They described a car like yours as hitting the man. Your car has a dented-in front fender. Want to tell me how that happened?”
“Not my car.” Harry jumped up and headed for the door.”
“Wait...”
“I'm not going anywhere... My car didn't have a dent on it yesterday.”
“It does now.”
Harry went out to look. Josh followed close behind. Scott came out to see what was going on.
The right passenger side was caved in. Harry shook his head, unbelieving.
“I swear, Josh, I don't know how it happened.” He walked around the car looking for any other damage. “Who was the man?”
“An old timer in the area. Hung around the little store a lot. Nosy old guy. He was overheard calling the Stockton ranch the day Scott got shot, reporting a couple of guys trespassing on the property. That must have been you and Scott. From what I can figure, he must have told the shooter. That was how they knew you were there.”
He waited for Harry to say something. When he didn't, he went on. “The way I see it, your car was used to shut the old guy up. He must have known the shooter and could identify him if we had gotten that far in the investigation.”
He waited again for Harry's response. “Now do you want to tell me where you were yesterday?”
Scott looked on with interest.
Harry closed his eyes. He was in deep shit, he knew. He had been told not to go to the ranch, not to leave town, and stay in touch. So far he had done everything he'd been told not to do. He might as well tell the truth.
“I drove out to the ranch, hid my car, and walked to the north pasture. Someone took a pot shot at me. The bullet grazed my head and knocked me out. When I came to, I was in a dark hole—turned out to be a cave. I found my way out late in the day and walked back to the ranch. It was dark when I got there. I sneaked around the house, got in the car, came to the room, and went to bed. My feet are so swollen I can't get my shoes on. My arms are scratched from the brush I walked through, and I probably have a third-degree burn on my face. And now I am accused of killing someone else.”
He stopped, thinking about what he had said. “Someone knew my car was there. Who? Whoever it is—or they are—they keep a finger on the pulse of everything that goes on around there. It is unbelievable how they keep tabs on everything. Seems like they know every move we make.”
“You didn't know your car had been moved?”
“It was dark. I didn't think anyone could find it. They would have to see me park it to know it was there. To answer your question, no, I didn't know it had been moved.”
“How did you manage to get out of the cave?”
“Pure luck.”
Josh walked over to examine the cut on Harry's head.
“Looks to me that you could use a few stitches in that. You were lucky they didn't kill you. We would never have found your body.”
“I know that's true. I thought I was a goner for sure. It's a miracle I found my way out. I wouldn't bet on doing it again.”
“Could you find the place again?”
“Sure. It opened out by a spring fed lake, crystal clear water nestled down in the hills.”
Scott joined in, saying, “I know where that is...I never knew there was a cave. We went swimming there once but the water was too cold.”
“What is it you expect to find on that part of the ranch that you would risk your life to go there?”
“I don't know, Josh. It's just a feeling I have that something is there.”
“You're still looking into the disappearance of that girl from Junction?”
“Melody, yes. I think we will find her. I don't think she ever left the ranch.”
“What about her car?”
“It's a big ranch.”
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Chapter 10
Stepping into his room, Scott close on his heels, Harry picked up the phone and dialed Doris's number.
“Doris, if I remember correctly, you volunteered to help me out, right? Well I need some help. Can you come over and bring me some things—clothes, loafers, and my black phone book on the desk? I know it's a mess but you can do it. I'm counting on you.” Smiling, he hung up. She was always telling him he needed a good woman to clean up after him. Every time he offered her the job she laughed. One of these days...
Limping to the chair by the window, he looked out thoughtfully then turned to Scott, who had st
retched out across the bed. “Scott, we need a plane. Do you know anyone who could fly us over the ranch and let us get a view of that north pasture?”
Scott sat up. “Ned Stump is a crop duster and he has a plane. He won't do it for free, but I bet he would be happy to make a couple of bucks.”
Harry tossed the phone book onto the bed. “Call him and see what you can set up.”
As Scott made the call, Orlando drove up in the jeep, climbed out and walked to the door.
“Come on in,” Harry called out.
Orlando stuck his head in the door. “We thought maybe you guys could use some transportation, so I brought Scott's Jeep in. Mr. Stockton had the windshield replaced yesterday. How you doing, Scott?” he asked with concern. “You sure had me scared when we brought you in.”
“I'm okay—stiff and sore. My shoulder gives me a little trouble, but the doc says it will work out after a while.”
Shifting from one foot to another, Orlando told Scott soberly, “I know you are at odds with your uncle, Scott, but he was really worried about you. When are you coming back to the ranch?” He hesitated. “The dogs miss ya,” he added cheerfully, then seeing a dusty pickup pull into the drive, he pushed away from the door. “Here's my ride. Gotta go. See ya later.” Tossing the keys to the bed, he ran out to the waiting truck, waving as they drove away.
“I was hoping he would stay long enough to get us something to eat,” Scott said mournfully. “I'm starved.”
“We got wheels. Get in the jeep and we'll go get breakfast,” Harry said as he hobbled to the door. They crippled out to the jeep and crawled in. “What a sorry sight we are,” Harry said, catching sight of their reflection in the window glass. “I'm glad Ned couldn't take us out until tomorrow. I'm not sure I could get in the plane.”
When they got back, Doris was waiting in her car, engrossed in a romance novel while the country music station belted out a sad song. She greeted Harry with tears in her eyes.
