the god and the gold

A forty minute uphill walk, first through a forest of fir and cedar, then scrub, brought them to a wide, barren mesa strewn with a few huge boulders and smaller outcroppings of volcanic rock. Off to their left, the plateau continued to rise slightly till it butted up against a mountain that rose sharply against the azure blue sky. They walked to the edge of the mesa and could see far off in the distance, a small town. “That’s Jemez Springs,” said Jake, “and the small line of smoke you see rising off in the distance is probably from San Ysidro, thirty miles away. Deirdre glanced over the edge of the mesa and then backed away a few steps. “And how far down is it?“ “About 600 feet… a bit less as the land below rises toward the mountain.” Hays was looking at the map. “I think we’re close to where Begay was camped. Let’s spread out and see if we can find some sign of it. Maybe form a line and work toward the mountain first.” They had walked about 200 feet when Deirdre shouted, “Over here!” As they approached, she continued, “Looks like signs of a camp. There’s still a screw-in tent peg in the ground the sheriff must have missed and I’m guessing, but under that flat wide rock about 20 feet off, we might find a latrine. Jake walked over to the rock and using a stout stick lying next to it, flipped the rock upright so that it was propped against another nearby. “She’s right. It’s about two feet deep and he burned his paper.” He poked around with the stick. “Nothing else…” Hays was facing Jake, lighting his pipe, when his left leg went out from under him. He knew what it was before he heard the echoing sound of the shot and hollered, “Gun!” as he was falling. Deirdre threw herself into a slight depression a few feet away and Jake hit the ground behind the latrine rock that afforded little cover but was better than nothing. Hays lay still, not moving. Perhaps two minutes went by before he asked, “See anything?” Jake turned his head slightly toward Hays. “Not a thing. No movement anywhere.” Deirdre had crawled to the south end of the depression. “I think the shot came from that outcropping of trees about 200 yards away. It’s a short distance from where we came up to the top of the mesa.” Hays rolled over onto his back. “Going to have to take a chance, folks, I’m bleeding like hell.” Deirdre was next to him in an instant, kneeling at his waist and reaching for a handkerchief in he back pocket. Hays half rose. “Get down, dammit!” “No!” She pulled a Spyderco knife from her belt, thumbed it open, sliced across his pantleg from the bullet hole, and laid the top of the opening back. The wound was ten inches above his knee in the meaty part of his thigh with entrance and exit about three inches apart. The entrance wound toward the back of his leg was simply a puncture but the bullet had torn a piece of flesh loose the size of a quarter on exit. She put the flap of skin back in place, then pressed a folded handkerchief over it and in a voice that brooked no argument, told Hays to put his hand on top and apply pressure. She turned toward Jake. “You got a first aid kit in that pack?” Jake rolled once away from the rock, stood, then walked over to them. “May as well get shot as lay downwind of that latrine.” He laid the pack on the ground, took out a couple bottles of water and a field first aid kit. “Let’s see what we’ve got.” Hays raised up on one elbow and lifted the handkerchief. Blood immediately began to seep from the wound. Jake opened one of the bottles of water and looked at Hays. “We’ll flush it, then wrap it. Doesn’t look to be deep enough to have nicked an artery or you’d be squirting all over the place. The real problem is going to be getting you out of here. You need a doctor and stitches. I could call for a rescue chopper on my cell…” “No… if you wrap it tight and give me a hand, I think I can make it back to the truck. We don’t want to invite more trouble than what we have and bringing in the authorities would do just that.” Jake glanced at Deirdre and she nodded her head in agreement. He tore away the rest of the pantleg, flushed the wound with water and wrapped it before helping Hays to his feet, then stepped back leaving him unsupported. “Can you walk?” Hays took a couple of steps. “Hurts, but I can walk slowly. I’ll probably need help when we hit that steep incline.” Jake took his cell phone from his pocket and flipped the lid up. “Let me see where Leantree is.” He tapped in a number with his thumb, then listened for a few seconds. “Leantree? Jake… Your Jeep running? Good. One of my friends has been shot… No, not bad - in the leg. Can you make it to the base of the mesa northeast of my camp? OK… About thirty minutes or so. Thanks.” “Leantree will meet us at the bottom of the slope and save us more than a mile’s walk to our camp. When we get to that steep incline, it’s probably best you go down backwards - less strain on the leg. You can hang onto Deirdre and me. We’ll take my truck into the urgent care clinic in Rio Rancho. I don’t think they have a triage unit but it probably doesn’t matter because the bullet went through. Cleaned up and stitched should do it.” Hays was staring at the ground where he had fallen. “Bastard!” He took two limping steps. “Bastard!” Deirdre moved next to him. “You said that once.” Hays was still looking at the ground. “When I fell, it broke the stem of my pipe. Damn fine Charatan, too. The bastard! Would you get it for me, honey?” She walked a few feet, bent, picked up the two pieces of pipe and gave them to Hays. “Can it be repaired? “I think so. It broke at the tenon where it goes into the shank. I’m going to get that bastard. Oughta take the pipe and shove it up his ass bowl first.” Jake picked up the first aid kit, put it in the pack and slipped it onto his shoulder. “Hang onto that thought - should make getting to Leantree easier.”...