Beneath the Tombstone (The Tombstone Series)

by Martin Cogburn

“Yes.”

  Irwin scanned him up and down. “That should be enough time for you to slim down to a good climbing weight.”

  “But I’m not fat,” Jason protested.

  Irwin looked at him like that was up for debate but didn’t bother to argue. He just kept on with the presentation of his plan. “A friend of mine, that I sometimes work cows with, just happens to be one of the best climbers around. If he would take you on and you were tough enough to endure his training, he would defiantly be your best shot at getting you to the sunny side of the Tombstone,” he smiled for a moment before adding, “as well as keeping you out from underneath one.”

  “I don’t know,” Jason heard himself say as he cast his gaze towards the ground. Did he just say that he didn’t know? He did know. The plan was to not climb and not die… maybe find some rock climbing gym to hit every day or so – maybe even get a trainer. Something to fool the kidnappers into believing that he was going to climb the Tombstone until they could be caught. But now, as he was being taunted with death, he was shocked to realize doing this was actually within his consideration. The thought made his heart sag down to the pit of his stomach as a dread settled deep within him.

  Jason inhaled deeply, trying to calm his racing heart. “I may look into it,” he said as he exhaled. Looking up at the rancher he asked, “Can I get an address?” like he was asking for directions to his own funeral. Who knows? Maybe he was.

  “Yes, I can do that,” Irwin replied as he stood then walked over to a small dining table, grabbed a pen and paper and began jotting the address down. Once that task was complete, he tore the small sheet from the pad, folded it and handed it to Jason. As he did so, he spoke, “His name is Tyler. He’s from South Texas and he brought some pretty big ghost up with him, so don’t go prying around into his past too much. Oh, and tell him Irwin sent you.”

  Jason and Tomas stood up from the mini-couch. Skeletons huh? Jason couldn’t keep from being a bit curious… But really, who didn’t have a few ghosts in their past?

  “Thanks, Irwin, for all your help,” Jason said sincerely as he extended his hand. Irwin shook it without hesitation or reservation. It seemed Jason had won the gunman’s trust.

  “If Tyler takes you on, I’ll be seeing you around,” Irwin said, sounding like he really did hope to see Jason again. “It’s no more than a ten – fifteen minute drive from my place to his.”

  “Okay, sounds good. Thanks again,” Jason called back as he headed out the door. Following close behind him, Tomas almost plowed into Jason who had stopped dead still in his tracks.

  “Jason?” a voice in front of him questioned, like the owner of it couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

  “Sheriff Victor?” Jason responded, just as surprised.

  “What are you doing here?” they each demanded at the same time.

  “It’s official business,” the sheriff growled, not liking the fact that he had been beaten to a lead by Jason. “How’d you beat me out here anyways?”

  “Why, we were just here visiting a friend,” Jason said innocently as he walked on out, giving room for Tomas to follow. “What are you doing here?”

  “Following up on a lead,” the sheriff growled.

  “On the kidnapping case?” Jason asked, acting like he was surprised.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, isn’t that shocking,” Jason said as he turned to Tomas who seemed more puzzled than surprised. “Hey Tomas,” Jason said, “would you believe that there is a lead here somewhere?” He turned back to Victor. “We just stopped by to see all the pretty horses.”

  “I’d sure like to know how you beat me here,” Victor said, ignoring Jason’s snide remarks. “Anyways, I know you’ll be crushed by this news, Jason, but I’m not here to see you.” He then directed his attention behind Jason. “Are you Irwin Ramirez?” he asked the man who had just walked out the door of the shed and into the conversation.

  “Sure am,” Irwin said. “Have been for the past fifty-eight years.”

  Up until that point, the right side of Irwin, where he held his shotgun, had been blocked from Victor’s sight by Jason, but when Jason realized he was standing in the middle of their conversation, he stepped to the side. When he did, Victor’s eyes got wide. In desperation, he reached towards his lower back, like he was reaching for a gun.

  “Whoa! Hold it! Hold it!” Irwin shouted and Jason watched in alarm as the rancher leveled the sawed-off shotgun directly at the sheriff’s midsection. Victor froze with a deer-in-the-headlights look, his right hand still at his lower back. “Get that hand back up here where it belongs,” Irwin snapped.

  The sheriff obeyed but still tried to cut the gunman down with an icy stare… but regardless of how wicked a stare one might have, it’s no match when it comes to staring down a double-barrel shotgun.

  “Now turn around,” Irwin ordered. He then paused before looking over at Jason. “Jason, go over there and lift his shirt up. Let’s see what kind of artillery he brought to this party.”

  “Don’t you dare,” Victor snarled when Jason got close.

  “This hurts me more than it does you,” Jason responded but didn’t believe a word of it. He had done many things a lot less enjoyable than what he was about to do.

  “Stay to the side, out of the line of fire when you check him,” Irwin said as he walked along beside Jason. “That way if I have to shoot him, this scatter gun wouldn’t catch you, too.” He paused then extended his gun a little, indicating Victor. “These fellas that come to try and collect on my boy’s gambling debt, they’re a slick bunch. Watch him.”

  “I am Sheriff Victor,” the sheriff said, sounding more than a bit perplexed.

  “I don’t give a rip who you think you are,” Irwin spat, unaffected by Victor’s title. “Jason,” Irwin said as he nodded towards the sheriff’s lower back. Jason lifted Victor’s shirt, revealing a semi-auto handgun.

  “Look,” Victor ordered, “these guys know me. I’m sheriff of Pueblo County. They know that. Right guys?” he asked in an almost pleading tone.

  Jason remembered the line he’d gotten from the sheriff earlier that morning when he’d been trying to get information on the identification of the kidnappers. “I’m afraid that information is classified,” he spoke with a touch of dry wit, repeating the sheriff’s phrase of rejection, hoping he’d get the drift.

  He got the drift. “Come on. I was just messing with you this morning. I didn’t have any information on the kidnappers. I was just trying to rile you up a bit. I didn’t get anything on your attacker until just a few hours ago,” the sheriff added in an almost-apologetic voice.

  “Is this guy a friend of yours?” Irwin asked Jason, but without pausing for an answer, he instructed, “Take his gun.”

  “I don’t know,” Jason said in response to Irwin’s question before he removed the gun from the sheriff’s pants with an abrupt yank. “Sheriff, are we friends?” he asked, mockery seeping from his voice.

  The sheriff’s face was beginning to turn red. “Yeah, sure… friends,” he spat.

  “Well,” Irwin said to Jason, “why don’t you take that gun over and put it in his car… then we can all be friends.”

  Jason placed the gun in the sheriff’s car and turned back around to watch the showdown. Leaving now would be like walking out in the middle of a good movie. Sheriff Victor was asking questions the only way he seemed to know how… interrogation style. As a result, an extremely stubborn look had settled over Irwin’s face and, judging by his stance, Jason knew that no matter how hard the sheriff pressed, he would get nowhere with the proud and independent horseman.

  - - - - - -

  “From the top of that gorge to the bottom is about a thousand feet,” Tomas said after they’d gotten back into the car and began following a very agitated sheriff off the ranch. “Have you thought about what doing this could cost you?” he asked then paused for dramatic effect. “It could cost you your life, Jason… your life.”

  Jason sat for a mome
nt before letting out a big sigh. Of course, he had considered it. Since those few minutes ago, when he found himself actually allowing the thought of climbing the Tombstone into his mind, the possibility of falling to his death was the part that kept coming back, again and again.

  But he had another thought that, at the moment, was just as prevalent. “Tomas,” he spoke thoughtfully, looking over at the driver, “I’ve got a question for you; Sheriff Victor seemed surprised that we beat him to Irwin. Honestly, I’m a bit surprised myself.” The doctor smiled slightly, like seeing the stunned look on the sheriff’s face had done his heart good. “How did we beat him there, anyways?” Jason asked.

  The doctor chuckled. “Can you keep a secret?” he asked in a hushed tone, although no one else was in the car to overhear. Jason nodded his head in agreement. Who’d he have to tell, anyways? “If you dealt with a sketch artist at the police station, I assume you dealt with a very, um, shall we say interesting lady named Jenny?” Jason again nodded his head, indicating that the doctor’s assumption was correct. “She has been a patient of mine from time to time.” That actually made perfect sense.

  The doctor laughed again as he spoke, “She is not very hard to get information from, if you know what I mean.” Jason nodded his head once more. He certainly did know what the doctor meant. Several times all he would have needed to do to get her entire life’s story would’ve been remain silent and give an encouraging nod from time to time.

  “She is not married, and so she gets kind of lonely,” the doctor said, sounding sympathetic. “There is really nothing wrong with her. The only reason she comes to see me is just to have someone to talk to.” Now Jason was beginning to feel a slight pang of guilt welling up inside. It was so much easier to look down on someone when you weren’t looking down the trail of their past.

  “I barely charge her anything because I do not look at her like a client as much as I do a friend. A person can never have too many good friends. Good friends come in handy,” the doctor said, pointing his index finger in the air like he was giving a speech. “Like today, Jenny gave me that information on… what is that boy’s name again?” Tomas asked as he looked over at Jason.

  “Isaac,” Jason reminded him.

  “Yes, Isaac,” Tomas said, and it looked like he wanted to slap himself in the forehead for forgetting. “I guess Jenny gave me that information on Isaac before she gave it to the sheriff. It’s his own fault really. He can be a big jerk to her. He makes her feel stupid and, as a result, she avoids him every chance she gets. She probably put off telling him about Isaac up until she was about to leave for the day.”

  The doctor’s explanation made sense, and now Jason was beginning to contemplate his own life. He had so few close friends that he could number them on his fingers… if nine of them were missing. And the one person that represented that one finger… well, now she was missing, too. Also, now he didn’t even have his sister-in-law, Susan, there to yell at him. He’d never been one for making friends at work, and now he was suspecting Tomas, the one person who was actually trying to help.

  “Hey Tomas,” Jason spoke quietly, “I’m sorry for being so suspicious.”

  Jason saw him relax a little. “It is okay, Jason,” the doctor replied. “I am used to dealing with suspicious crazy people.”

  Jason smiled, appreciating Tomas’ understanding attitude. All in all, their visit to the ranch could have gone much worse than it did and, as they drove away, Jason contemplated the events of the day. There were several things that he now possessed that were not his when the sun had risen; one was a friend, another was hope, but last… an unrelenting fear of dying. He was thankful for the lead on the climbing coach but – he gazed out the window as the world passed by – he couldn’t help hoping for another way. He felt the last few rays of sunlight against his face and treasured them like never before as he watched the sun sink down beneath the western horizon, bringing another day to its end as never yielding time drew Jason one day closer to his fate.

  Chapter Twelve

  Dried earth swirled in the cool early-morning air, stirred up by the hooves of several hundred panic-stricken yearling calves. The rising sun illuminated the dust-cloud, turning it into a brilliant patch of golden fog, making the cattle appear as silhouettes in the dusty mist. Two cowboys sat horseback in a large pen that held the herd, bobbing their outstretched hands as they counted each yearling that passed by.

  When it seemed they had reached the desired number, horse and rider would spring forward, cutting off the ones who had not yet been numbered before pushing the chosen ones up into a small crowding pen. There the younger of the two horsemen, without dismounting, swung a large iron gate around on the small group and latched it. He then leaned over the gate and began smacking the cattle on the rump with the end of his rope.

  One by one, they began to scramble down the only way out, which was through a long, narrow loading chute made from iron post and sheet metal, towards an opened double-decker cattle trailer that waited for them at the end. A man on foot, dressed in a dirty old t-shirt and ball-cap, walked along the outside of the chute and gave a little electrical inspiration by means of a hotshot to any of the critters who appeared to be hesitant about moving forward.

  Jason’s single cab truck crept slowly down the drive as he directed it towards the organized chaos. He came to a halt a short distance from the action and put the truck in park before casting a glance over at Tomas who sat in the passenger’s seat. “Looks like we’d better wait for things to calm down a bit before we go looking for the climbing trainer,” Jason commented nervously as he opened the driver’s side door and stepped out. When the doctor had dropped him off the night before, he had insisted that Jason take him along when he went to talk to the climbing trainer.

  Tomas opened his door and accessed the situation like he was an expert on all things to do with horses, cattle, and men. “No Jason,” the doctor spoke soberly. “What has brought us here is of much greater importance than what these men are doing. Approach them with complete confidence. Remember what I told you when you first came to see me? If you ever hope to control others, first you have to learn to control yourself. Watch me. This will be a good lesson for you.” With that, the doctor closed the door firmly and began approaching the loading chute. His nice, clean clothes and quick, abrupt walk made him stand out in complete contrast with everything else in the scene.

  It was about that time that the older of the two cowboys spied the doctor making a direct line towards them. He had been slouched over a bit with his cowboy hat pulled down low, working the yearlings in a nonchalant fashion, but now he sat up straight in the saddle as a disbelieving look came over his face.

  “What’da you think you’re doin’?” the rider hurled the question at the doctor with all the force that was in his lungs, and there was no mistaking the bewildered anger in his voice.

  Another group of calves were beginning to make their way down the channel towards the trailer. The kid on horseback had quite pushing them, but it was too late to stop the flow.

  “If you are Tyler, I have a proposition for you,” Tomas responded as he came to a quick stop, sounding like he thought his words would draw the horseman’s attention to how important he was.

  “No, I’ve got a proposition for you,” the older cowboy yelled, “move or I will move you!”

  At that moment, the lead calf rounded a turn in the chute, where the sheet-metal siding ended and became open pipe leading up to the trailer, and came to an abrupt halt when it spotted the doctor who was standing almost directly in front of it. It jumped back slightly and landed with all four legs spread out, ready to turn and try to fight its way back the way it had come.

  “Keep the others crowdin’ up behind ‘er. Don’t let ‘er turn back,” the older cowboy yelled to the younger, but the guy running the hotshot must have thought that was his cue because he jammed the electric prod into the lead yearling’s flank with a vengeance. She bawled and kicked but didn’t bud
ge an inch forward. On the contrary, she began backing away from Tomas into the hotshot and other cattle, bawling and kicking as she went.

  “Get that hotshot out of her,” the young horseman yelled. A red healer cattle bred dog nipped at the heifer’s heels but did not succeed in sending her forward again.

  “She’s turning,” the older man on horseback called out as he spurred his horse forward before reaching down into the channel and slapping the yearling in the face in an attempt keep her from spinning around. In spite of his extreme efforts, she still turned back. As soon as she did, she began fighting and pushing towards the back of the line. By this time, the doctor had moved out of the way, but it was a little too late for that.

  The rest of the small group hadn’t seen the doctor standing in the way, nor had they been zapped by the hotshot so, as far as they were concerned, what lay ahead couldn’t be as scary as what was behind; they began pushing the one in front, forcing her to back towards the trailer. The two horsemen sat motionless with a cross-your-fingers look on their faces.

  It seemed that all would end well as the lead heifer backed her way up the loading ramp. But then the cattle that had already been loaded began banging around inside the trailer, causing her to stop and turn her head in that direction. By then the heifers following her had quite pushing, so the entire line came to a halt.

  “Crawl over the fence and give that one behind her a little sample of that hotshot,” the older cowboy said to the guy on the ground. “Nice and easy,” he added, but it seemed that the last part of the command went unnoticed because the overzealous hotshot man crawled over the fence and plunged the hotshot directly into the calf’s flank – and there was nothing nice or easy about it. The heifer plowed upwards into lead calf as it, at the same time, plunged downwards. As a result, they each ended up on the floor of the chute, at the base of the ramp, piled one on top of the other, unable to get up. The rest of the cattle in line then just trampled over the top of them, making their way into the cattle trailer. The two were left jammed in very awkward positions as the one on the bottom struggled to breath.