The Mosquitoes Protect the Trout
Mackie stood at the sink and sipped from his cup. Coffee in the morning… that first sip dissolves the night fog. The boys were spread across the room in various stages of dress. Chippy was still in his jeans and work shirt, but half asleep sprawling sideways across his bunk. One boot was off. Clearly he was going to wake up and be hung-over.
“What’s on the agenda boss?” Keith Simons had been with the company for three months.
“Can’t say for sure Keith,” said Mackie, “I haven’t seen Mr. Pottorff yet.” Mackie was always the first up and went out to see about the horses before sunup. On a typical day, Bill Pottorff his employer, would meet him just as he was finishing the chores, and they would discuss the day before Mackie went back to the bunk house for morning breakfast. “It’s odd that he wasn’t at the stables this morning,” Mackie’s face showed a hint of concern.
“Well, it’s Sunday. Maybe he decided to sleep in today.” His first name is Mark, but he never picked up a nickname, so mostly he was just referred to by his last name. Travers. A good hand, but he liked to argue… he’d contend that the sky wasn’t necessarily blue, or point out, “That’s just not how my dad taught me to do it.”
“I don’t recall Mr. Pottorff ever sleeping in.” Mackie and Bill had a keen sense for each other; even though the relationship was less than twenty years in the making. “You boys finish getting ready. It might be Sunday, but we still have to make a sweep of the pasture before you get the day to yourself. I’m going to take a walk toward the main house and see if I can find Mr. Pottorff. Don’t dally.”
Sunday normally was a light day, unless the cattle were out of the fence or it was calving season. Hopefully, they stayed in the fences and the boys could relax… Javier would likely go fishing. As Mackie put on his hat, a knock came at the front door and Pottorff stepped in… invited or not. His face was dark and troubled.
“Mackie? I need you to step outside with me for a minute.”
On the porch the mild mannered Bill Pottorff was pacing and clearly upset. Mackie waited to hear the reason.
“Mackie, Lenore was roughed up last night by her ex-husband.” Bill’s voice was quivering… he was using all his will power to keep from screaming in anger. “That bastard Maxim apparently showed up last night when I was over at Toughie’s place asking about renting his upper pasture. Lenore said he was drinking and sloppy and pushed her around. I didn’t even know he was in Colorado.” Bill was seething… barely able to get the words out. “Mackie I won’t have that man coming onto my property and harassing my sister again. This is going to end quickly. I don’t know exactly how, but he needs to get a clear message to leave here and there can’t be any lose ends.” Mackie knew his employer to be a quiet and calculating man. Always in control of his emotions and hard to read… but easy to predict because his character was solid… consistent.
“What exactly are you suggesting Bill?” He called him Bill, but only in private conversations. To everyone else he was Mr. Pottorff, and his sister was Ms. Lenore.
“You’ve been out here your entire life,” he was looking right at his foreman, “I know you’ve handled disgruntled hands and wayward cowboys, and the ranch work got done without the law needing to be involved. I’m not asking you to do anything that would jeopardize your character or land you in jail. But certainly we can scare this man into leaving with no further notions about Lenore. One other thing, he took a locket belonging to my mother. I want it back.”
“I understand perfectly,” Mackie nodded, “But this Maxim guy is a stunt man, and I don’t think he’s going to let a few bruised ribs keep him away… not for very long at least. When would you want this ‘message’ to be delivered?”
“As soon as possible Mackie… he might be staying in Laramie. He drives a Cadillac. That should be easy to spot.” Bill looked at him and squinted and pointed at Mackie’s face, “Give the boys the day off and if you trust any of them enough, include’m. I don’t want him ever coming back.” Bill’s speech was starting to take on that Western edge… his point was made. “I want you to know I trust you Mackie. Not just because you’ve helped me build a good solid herd, but you and I have always had a balance between us. I am starting to get a very good idea about managing the business details of a ranch, but I couldn’t run this place without your knowledge of cattle. I’d do this thing myself, but just like pulling a calf… I know when to step back and let you do what you know how to do. I see this man as a threat to my ranch. No different then a wolf… or big cat. He’s coming after Lenore, and as far as I am concerned… she’s part of this ranch now.”
The Bunk House:
Typically a bunk house would consist of a one room building with a very simple floor plan. Two doors, limited windows… one long room divided between the general living space and the kitchen. The only interior walls were built in a rear corner next to a side entrance, with an enclosed bathroom that featured a couple of toilets, three showers, and a long counter with a pair of sinks and mirrors… dimly lit. The bunks were arranged head to foot around the perimeter of the room. Knotty pine was always the paneling of choice. The kitchen was designed only for utility… plenty of counter space and cabinets, one large country style sink with a gooseneck faucet, a range and oven, a refrigerator, and the only counter appliance was a toaster. All meals were prepared from scratch and always included some cut of beef. On a wooden sidewalk outside the side entrance was a detached shed which served as a pantry. It also homed a large chest freezer in addition to a sink for cleaning game. The North Diamond Ranch was laid out with just such a bunk house… even down to the pot belly stove. A hitching post guarded the front porch… and was occasionally used when a hand was riding out and remembered something vital, like a pair of leather gloves back at his bunk. He’d tie off his horse before riding out… and retrieve what is necessary.
A Little Background:
The North Diamond Ranch was managed well enough by Bill Pottorff, who was born in Connecticut to a wealthy family that owned a long established foundry. Bill’s heart was out west; however, and he couldn’t see himself in the iron business. So he convinced his father to co-sign a note and purchased property in Jackson, County Colorado…. North Park. The population of the entire county was less than the number employed by the family foundry. He was a decent rancher, but an excellent business man, and in spite of some missteps as a young rancher, he had the loan paid off in less than ten years… and during that time learned how to be a seasoned rancher. His character earned respect throughout the entire valley and into Wyoming. Good cross calves… Angus bulls and white face Hereford cows… black baldies. He also raised some of the best alfalfa that can be found in the United States. The soil is perfect along the divides separating the Michigan, Canadian, and Illinois rivers all feeding the North Platte and draining north into Wyoming. Bill Pottorff had come to Colorado with his family to see the Rockies as a teenager, and the mountains tugged at his heart until he graduated from Dartmouth, and his father could no longer hold him back. He had several suitors, but Bill never married. His older brother Gerald inherited the foundry. Thirteen years separated Bill from a younger sister, Lenore. She didn’t want anything to do with the foundry, and married a movie stunt man to protest her father’s demands. This drama back East was far removed from Bill’s concern until his father passed, and Bill learned that the stuntman, Maxim Vie (Bill never learned his real name) was physically abusing his sister. It was decided that Lenore would be better off leaving the coast and move to Colorado with Bill and let the lawyers sort out a divorce. She arrived and stayed in the main house with Bill in the fall of 1978… twenty-seven years old, and a bit humble. Lenore Pottorff is five-nine, a hundred and twenty-seven pounds, educated, confident (before she was beaten repeatedly by a her husband), and observant. Men see her fit figure and the way she postures herself… women notice her chestnut hair and amazing complexion, snappy wardrobe, and no evidence of make-up. Lenore adored Bill because he wasn’t dependent on the family fortune.
The Foreman and the Hands:
Connie (Mackie) McIntyre: Bill had a knack for recognizing character. He also realized in the fall of his first year he needed some help… and an experienced eye in picking out some good quality commercial cows. He financed enough to buy quality, but he also needed to assure himself just exactly what quality cows should look like. During his time at Dartmouth, he had taken a few excursions to Colorado and Wyoming just to get him back in the mountains he loved. He learned to cast a fly rod during this time, but what he really enjoyed most was spending time with the land owners who allowed his guides to fish the private waters on their property. Bill was obsessed with ranching. It was during one of these trips he was introduced to Connie. Everyone called him Mackie. He was a hand on one of the larger ranches in North Park, and he knew how to breed and manage cattle. He was young and ambitious and loved to talk about the best crosses and the direction the market was going … mostly toward Angus beef. Bill met him at a bar in Walden after a day of fishing the North Platte with a local guide. Connie was a little older than Bill, but the two became good friends and remained in contact when Bill went back to school. A lasting friendship was formed… long before either knew that someday, Bill would hire Connie to help him run his ranch. The land was purchased in 1965, Connie left his job as a top hand to become the foreman for Bill’s dream ranch… They needed some men to bunk down on the ranch and be willing to work the hours needed to make ends meet on a startup budget.
Mark Travers: He could ride and he could rope. Travers was no stranger to the rodeo circuit in Northern Colorado and Wyoming. His problem was he wasn’t good enough to pay the cost of traveling expenses and maintaining a quality horse that would allow him a chance to complete with the elite ropers. He didn’t have a sponsor and he didn’t have an established ranch to back him… his talent was never fully discovered for winning prize money, but he could more than lend a hand on a working ranch. Connie knew him when he was a green kid in high school. He was a good fit for Bill’s herd of quality cow hands… except he had a knack for wanting to argue. Seems he was obsessed with having the last word. When he drank too much, he became a loudmouth … and a bore. Since he came to work on the North Diamond, Mackie noticed his drinking seemed to be modified. Nobody doubted Mark’s skills on horseback and using his rope… but apart from that… he was a real a loose cannon. He was the first hire Bill and Connie made…. Connie figured there wasn’t going to be much time to argue and he made that clear…
“If you try and draw me into some pointless debate? I’ll have you shoveling out the stalls. You can defend your point of view with the horses all you want.” Mark agreed to hire on, and subdued his passion.
Javier “Guido” Bolivar: Mark had one friend who wasn’t annoyed by his vast amount of knowledge and opinions… Javier. He was raised in Argentina on the Pampas. His background in understanding the dynamics of herding? Unsurpassed. Argentina has undergone dramatic shifts in their economy, but the cattle ranches on this vast area within the borders of this South American vanguard have saved the country from complete ruin. Javier moved to the United States to seek his fortune in a freer society… where wealth wasn’t the only advantage. His freedom came to him through his skills at nurturing young calves and keeping them vital. Mark liked him because he spoke very little English. He was hired on to the North Diamond Ranch… and proved his worthiness during the first calving season. Nobody has a better sense of animal husbandry than Javier. His nickname was given to him by Mark, because Mark didn’t know that “Guido” was an Italian term.. not Latin American. Actually, Mark thought Javier was from Mexico. One thing that Javier had in common with North Park was… fly fishing. He learned how to fly fish on the Pampas… and soon learned the rivers of Northern Colorado.
Christopher “Chippy” Richards: His skill at “cowboying” is not what got Chippy hired, but he knew enough to back up the herd on a longer drive and keep the calves from straggling too far behind. He also knew a lot about packing the supplies and his every day duty was to cook. He worked for the U.S Forest Service and never graduated from high school. His summers were spent in remote wilderness regions clearing the forest for any variety of projects from power lines to fire trails. His cooking wasn’t formal, but what he served was suitable for men who worked hard and irregular hours. Chippy was also a talented musician… the harmonica. His mouth harp was just part of the background noise whenever the boys played poker or lied around a campfire. His time alone in the wilderness gave him very few options for entertainment, so he took to reading, and later on writing. Chippy was self-educated and made language his weapon of choice. Any number of hands would come and go in a year’s time, but Connie kept Travers, Javier, and Chippy on full payroll.
When he stepped back inside, the boys in the bunkhouse were close to ready for whatever he said needed done. This is why it came as a surprise when he gave them the entire day off. A whoop went up from the new guys, but the three seasoned hands stood still and watched their boss with a keener eye. It is very out of the ordinary for the entire outfit to get a day to themselves. Chippy hadn’t started breakfast yet, but the coffee was hot and black. Breakfast was typically served after each cowboy had tended to his horse and on Sunday morning placed their laundry out for Mrs. Barstow to collect and return later in the week. Javier was looking at Connie… reading his face. “Proecupada… si?”
Connie glanced at Javier, and then quickly made eye contact with Mark and Chippy. Most of the crew was quickly gathering their hats and slipping on their boots and hurried out before he changed his mind. It didn’t take long… and he was alone with the men he trusted most. Connie topped off his coffee and sat at the table. His three top hands did the same. Again he looked at Javier… “Yes, I am worried.” His men didn’t press him, they knew he was going to fill them in on the conversation he had with Mr. Pottorff.
“It seems that while we were playing cards last night, Ms. Lenore’s ex paid her a visit up at the main house. Mr. Pottorff was gone… over at Toughie Hardin’s ranch on business.” Connie was gripping his cup as he spoke… tension in his hands.
“What do you mean paid her a visit,” Travers asked, “is she hurt?” Mark Travers noticed Lenore as soon as she arrived. She was a woman men noticed.
“I don’t think she’s been injured so much,” Connie went on, “but Mr. Pottorff did say he pushed her around and took a valuable piece of jewelry when he left, something that belonged to his and Lenore’s mother.”
“Mal negocio.” Uttered Javier… bad business. It occurred to Connie briefly that Javier could understand English perfectly all this time and never let on. Sly dog. Chippy leaned in and said… “What is Mr. Pottorff going to do?” All of them turned to Connie for an answer.
“Our employer is very upset. Let me make that clear. He asked me to handle this with discretion… and quickly. Furthermore, he wants his mother’s broach back. Now this Maxim Vie guy is not going to be easily intimidated, and Mr. Pottorff wants this handled quietly and no law enforcement is to be involved. If anyone of you are squeamish, then feel free to take your day off, and enjoy it however who want. All I ask is that you don’t mention any of this outside us four.” Connie laid down the ground rules so that no one was confused about whether action was going to be taken… or that there would be consequences for breaking the trust among cowhands who rode together. Each nodded … and individually said “You can count on me.”
“With that being established,” Connie opened the discussion to thoughts on what can be done quickly and quietly. Looking right at Mark he warned, “I know what you’re thinking… find this character and beat the living shit out of him until he agrees to give the broach back and leaves town. As much as I agree, that would only give him a reason to involve the sheriff… and I doubt it would be the type of message that stays with him once the bruises go away.” Mark slumped, that was his suggestion precisely. Mark relented, “Spose yer right, it’s not what my father would do.” Connie nodded and pointed, “Exactly…this is going to require something more threatening and permanent.”
The four sat in silence, but the wheels were turning. Mark fidgeted and swigged his coffee in a bold gesture. Chippy cradled his coffee and stared as the steam arose and curled away. Javier’s silence was hard to read, there was a look about him and his lips were curling as if this whole situation was somehow making him happy. Connie was studying their faces and tried to decide if he’d made a mistake by sharing the Bill’s personal business with them. Suddenly, Chippy spoke first.
“I’d like to hear from Ms. Lenore… perhaps she can give us some information about what happened and why this rat bastard stole her mother’s broach.” Chippy was considering the angles, but he was smart to want as much information as possible before they embarked on a plan. He went on, “Seems to me this Maxim guy, whatever his name is, can probably take a lot of punches before he’d surrender any information about the locket.”
“I say we hog tie his ass and drag him until he understands hour logic,” said Mark, “this is a simple case of breaking him down and giving him a chance to see things our way.”
“We’re not going to put a mark on this man and give him any evidence at all that he can take to the law and raise questions about him being in an convenient accident. We have to do this in a way that seems as though it was his idea to give that broach back… without our involvement. Chippy? You have a point, perhaps we can speak to Ms. Lenore.” Mark started to argue, but Connie cut him off… “this is not a debate.” The tone of his voice shut Mark down.
It was rare for Javier to speak in a group, but he finally raised his hand as if he needed permission. “You got something to say Guido?” Mark asked but not in a condescending manner.
“Si Senor Mark, por favor. My Ingles, no es bueno.” His voice was steady in spite of his challenge with finding the right words. “If Senora Lenore makes this broach… colgante… nice for to locate… I see to Senor Maxim give to us,” he rephrased, “I know what can do this… I know of this thing.” Javier looked from man to man and his eyes were serious.
“Okay Javier,” Connie was interested in his thoughts, “go on and share what you have in mind.” For the next ten minutes, Javier described a sequence of events in detail that left his fellow ranch hands nodding. Even through his broken English the plan was clear … and none of them questioned that it would send a message that was permanent and leave no questions for the law to investigate. First, Connie needed to speak with Mr. Pottorff and perhaps Ms. Lenore, and get just a few things straight about the broach.
It was not difficult to locate Maxim Vie that morning. Chippy knocked on the door of room 213 of the Best Western Laramie at precisely 9:50 AM. The room opened to the balcony, and his Caddy was parked on the lot directly below the door. He opened the door and looked at Chippy. “Who the fuck are you?” Chippy had in his hand a small case, which he held up briefly, and said, “I believe you’re waiting for this.”
“Well it didn’t take them long to figure out did it?” Maxim was used to aggressive language and using intimidation to get what he wanted. “Who sent you? Her prick brother?” Chippy was not a guy who could intimidate others by his physical appearance, but he was used to bullies, and he remained calm. “I am here to offer you an alternative… a negotiation perhaps.” Maxim waved him into the motel room. “Step in and lets finish this right now. I just want what’s coming to me and get out of this cattle trap town.”
Chippy pulled a chair out from a small desk, and sat down. He put the case on the desk and flipped the latches, which opened the lid to fresh minted bills… a bundle of twenties in the amount of $1,000. “This is exactly a thousand dollars. It is my understanding that you made it known to Ms. Lenore that you felt entitled to ten times this amount… in exchange for her mother’s broach which I presume you now possess.” Chippy held the bundle up and said… “Feel free to count it.”
“Look at me you puke. If Bob Pottorff thinks he’s going to buy me off with a thousand dollars, then you go back and tell him I know how much that fucking necklace means to Lenore, and they’ll never set eyes on it again. This “negotiation” is over. The door is right there.” Maxim thrust his hand out in disgust.
“But sir,” continued Chippy, “we haven’t even discussed a negotiation, aren’t you interested in what I am proposing?”
“Look little man… you know my terms. Ten thousand dollars or the broach will never be seen again.” Chippy was not persuaded, “What if I told you that I could offer you twice that amount, provided you follow a very precise sequence of steps in which YOU decide if you get the money, and you hand over the broach willingly?”
“They’re willing to part with twenty grand just for that cheap necklace?” Maxim scoffed, and scratched his balls. He’d been lying on a bed watching pregame football when Chippy knocked on his door… he was wearing only his boxers. “What are these steps?” As was hoped, doubling the ransom was just what was needed to gain the stuntman’s greedy attention. Chippy continued, “It will require a series of stages in which you will be on horseback, and in a boat for part of the time. The money is not going to be delivered to you without precautions taken to ensure the broach is secure and still intact. You can keep this amount if you choose and hand over the artifact, or you can follow our timeline and receive 20 times the amount. The choice is yours, but your decision must be made before I leave.” Chippy allowed this to hang in the air, and Maxim was openly annoyed and conflicted. He added, “I have been instructed to deliver this message and allow you time to get dressed and go with me… or you give over what I came here for and you’ll be left alone. Nothing was shared with me at least… about what would happen next if you choose not to produce the stolen heirloom. It would appear to me you have three clear choices. Take the thousand dollars… and be left alone. Keep the broach… without knowing what will happen once I leave, or go with me now and perhaps collect $20,000 in exchange for Ms. Lenore’s rightful property.” Chippy had tactfully repeated the options long enough for Maxim to dwell on doubling his initial request. “Okay cowboy… I’ve been in some pretty tight spots in my line of work, and nothing you have planned scares me enough to turn my back on twenty thousand dollars.” Maxim’s ego and greed were exactly what Javier’s plan was meant to exploit. The two men left the hotel room after Maxim threw on a pair of cargo shorts and flowered shirt and a pair of sandals. They left the TV on and didn’t lock the door. Oddly, thought Maxim, he didn’t inquire about where the broach is located. When they got down to the parking lot, Chippy turned to Maxim and said, “I’ll be needing the keys to your car. When the time comes to turn over the broach, your car will be waiting… you will not be given a ride back.” Maxim gave it some thought and reached in his pocket and handed Chippy the keys. He actually thought it might be better when this was all done to have the Caddy nearby… and not spend any more time with this bunch than necessary. They both got into a plain four-wheel drive pick-up and left Laramie heading southwest… toward Walden.
During the first leg of this odd journey, Chippy and Maxim where to spend about an hour riding alone in the cab of the pick-up. Chippy could quote passages in any number of classic novels, but he chose to ride quietly over the mountain highway. They were not long in Wyoming before they crossed the Colorado border making their way toward Sheep Mountain… above Lake John. Maxim seemed to be satisfied with the silence. It could be that he was questioning his choice to go along with this charade, but he needed the money, and they were offering him twice what he’d hoped to get from his impulsive move to rip the broach from Lenore’s neck. He had come to Colorado to ask her for the money to pay a gambling debt. This was not the first time, but she refused and pointed out that her lawyers handled the divorce and she wasn’t going to continue to support his habit. The divorce was final and he needed to leave… as always his temper flared, and he reached over and backhanded her causing her to fall backwards into a table and spin to the floor. Maxim had his blood up, and this started to look like a scene that played out all to often when they were married. Only this time he noticed the necklace with her mother’s broach… reached down and snapped the chain from her neck. In his fist he shook it at her and screamed that she’d never see it again if she didn’t give him the money. All this was replaying in his mind as they drove quietly along following the highway as it curved toward the mountains bordering the western boundary of North Park. Maxim was beginning to regret his ever coming in the first place, but he didn’t dare let it show. He had made his play… now he needed to see this through. After all he was a seasoned stunt man, what could they possibly do that would cause him to tell them where the broach was hidden.
As Chippy rounded a curve at the base of the mountain, he slowed the truck and pulled through an open gate in the barbed wire fence and followed a one lane trail across the sage pasture. You could see Lake John below, and in the distance… Walden. About a half a mile in, Chippy pulled up to a stand of aspens and there was Mark Trover’s, sitting on horseback and trailing a rider-less painted mare… saddled and waiting. “This is where we part company Mr. Vie,” said Chippy as he pointed at the mare. That will be your ride now. “What’s all this horse shit?” Maxim snorted, “why don’t you just give me the money… I’ll tell you where the trinket is, and we all forget we ever met?”
Chippy looked out the window at the trees and then locked eyes with his passenger. “Sir? I am afraid your option to walk away passed back at in Laramie. Now you here and if you have designs on leaving this country with any money… you had better saddle up on that mare and follow Mr. Travers.” He didn’t want to allow his doubt do show, so he made a show of climbing out of the cab and slamming the door. He spit on the ground and went over to the mare. “Give me those fucking reins and let’s get on with this dog and pony show.” Mark handed the reigns over and warned. “She’s normally a gentle ride… but if she doesn’t think you love her, she’ll dump your ass in the sage brush.”
“Don’t tell me how to ride a horse you cow horn. I suspect I’ve been on a few horses in my career.” Maxim was actually an experienced rider, but today he was wearing sandals and shorts. He took the saddle horn, and set his foot in the stirrup… with a good heave; he pulled his butt into place and looked at Travers. “Where to now Buckwheat… an abandon mine shaft and a hidden treasure map?” Travers just brought his horse around and headed into the side hill at an easy pace… a smile was hidden below the brim of his hat. “Have you ever placed a bet on friend… when you knew he wasn’t good enough to ride the bull Mr. Vie?” Travers white teeth grew brighter, “sometimes you bet against the odds and win, but most of the time he just gets throwed.” Maxim put his mare in motion and followed up the path, “What’s that got to do with fuck? Just let’s get on with it.”
The two men on horseback traveled up a grade toward the ridgeline… the view looking east opened up the entire North Park vista all the way to the Rawah Range bordering the other side of the North Platte Valley. Sheep Mountain stands alone in the valley, and on the opposite side of the mountain is the North Fork of the North Platte River… the destination. As a crow flies the distance is less then five miles, but on horseback there is plenty of time to debate… and Mark Travers loved a good argument. With time on his hands, Travers posed a simple question hoping to get Maxim engaged in a conversation. “Have you ever tried to hit a dove on a wire before it flew off on its own? You know … Arkansas its ass. It’s illegal of course; you’re supposed to wait until they fly first.” The last thing on Maxim’s mind was shooting birds on a wire. “What is your name again, Trampus?” The stuntman had become uncomfortable, riding in shorts and the leather was chaffing his thighs and calves. “Travers… Mark Travers. I like to shoot turtle doves this time of year. It’s a short season.” Maxim fidgeted in his saddle. “Well Mr. Travers… is it at all possible you have any water with you? I haven’t had anything to drink in over an hour.” Mark reached in his side bags and pulled out a bottle of water. “I don’t know how cold it is, but you’re welcome to one … or if you need more. I have water.” He tossed the bottle and Maxim snagged it and almost drained it immediately. “Thanks I just now realize how dry I had become. Yes… I would drink another.” Mark tossed a second bottle and Maxim drained it just as quickly.
“Thanks,” Maxim was sincere, “I’m not a total ass, I needed that.” Mark gestured at his saddle bag, “Absolutely Mr. Vie, I have something stronger if you would rather.” Maxim liked his liquor, “What do you have in there Chester? Wouldn’t be any Markers Mark I don’t suppose.”
“Oh better Mr Vie,” Mark reached inside the bag and pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniels. “JD will never let you down. We’re going to be on this trail for a bit… we might as well share a drink.” He handed the bottle across to Maxim and prompted his horse, Deadman, to take the lead. Maxim took a decent swig and kept the whiskey.
The trail led steadily up toward a shallow pass, but would twist and turn on the downside toward the North Fork of the Platte. The river basin cut its way between the Routt Mountains and Sheep Mountain, and provided ample irrigation to the bigger valley below. It wasn’t a difficult ride, but there were a few tight spots when a rider needed to anticipate the horse’s footing and stay alert. The Jack Daniels had settled Maxim’s nerves some, and had him thinking about how twenty thousand dollars could pay off his poker debt and leave him a little ahead. He was still annoyed as hell about all the hoops he’d been led through. Had he given more thought to having to a horse, he’d have dressed differently… his calves were starting to chafe.
“Got any thoughts on woman Mr. Vie?” Mark waited for the whiskey to take an edge off his fellow rider, and started in with his questions. “I mean,” he didn’t wait for a response, “take my parents for example. My dad told me once he didn’t pursue my mother because he didn’t want another fellow to be with her, but because she was the only person, man or woman, that he could tolerate being around all the time. Seems they were just good companions. Mom didn’t rant on about things, but she let it be known if she didn’t agree with him.” Maxim took a drink from the bottle and cradled it between his legs. “Mister? I don’t much care one way or another about your folk’s getting along or not getting along. So why don’t you keep their lives a bit more private?” Mark was not deterred, “Oh it’s not a problem Mr. Vie, they’s both passed. He crossed himself and continued, “Mom gave into cancer about eight years ago, and dad had a heart attack two years later. He was a healthy man on the outside, but I think he was lonely too. Their privacy is nothing protect anymore.” Mark gave Maxim a simple smile. “It hurt at first, but I’m over it now. Maxim softened, but only slightly, “Sorry to hear, but I don’t think my thoughts on woman would make a best seller. I just want to finish this business and get in my Cadillac and not look back” Mark let Deadman lead them a few more yards along the trail and paused… turned in his saddle and offered another angle to his question, “I know you and Ms. Lenore had your differences Mr. Vie, but I have been wanting to find the right woman for myself, and I’d sure like to meet up with a woman who could deal with ranching as well as my mother. Perhaps I should have been more to the point. Any thoughts you have wrong or right might give me something to consider… even if you advise me to stay away from woman period. At least I wouldn’t be wasting my time doing it all wrong.” Maxim was feeling just enough comfort from a the liquor to offer a thought, and hopefully shut the young cowboy up, “Look,” he couldn’t remember Mark’s name, “Trent I am not a virtuous man, as it appears… was your father. My advice is don’t get someone pregnant, and don’t plan on having kids if you don’t like kids. I don’t like kids. Other than that? Woman don’t come with a handbook, so don’t look to others for advise on how to find the right woman. Had I to do it again? I would not have been married.” Then he added, “Life doesn’t give you second chances either.”
They’d reached the ridge and the horses needed a rest. Chippy had packed some water in a skin draped behind Mark’s saddle. Maxim dismounted and discovered immediately the he was stiff from being in the saddle, and a bit wobbly… he held onto the saddle horn and steadied himself while Mark offered his horse a drink. “If you’re hungry Mr. Vie, I stowed some donkey dick in one of my saddle bags… the right side.” The bologna ring was wrapped in paper and cold. Chippy’s experience packing for the Forest Service allowed for several contingencies… he had a first aid kit, blankets, rain gear, and fishing tackle… including a telescopic rod, matches and kindling, and toilet paper. All for a few hours trail ride over Sheep Mountain. Maxim broke off half of the bologna and took a generous bite and chewed with his cheek bulging. His hunger hadn’t risen to the surface until he actually had the meat in his mouth. He offered it back to Mark… who ripped off a much smaller portion and handed the rest back. “You finish it if you want Mr. Vie, I’m not hungry, and feel free to work on that JD more if you’re liking it… its yours.” Now that he’d had something to eat and stretched a little, Maxim was feeling better… and the whiskey was easing his anxiety. He was bit short of breath however, probably the altitude… thin air up here. “We best keep moving Mr. Vie, its downhill from here, and shouldn’t take long, but keep your wits… the trail from here to the river is not as straight and steady.” Maxim relieved himself, and faced his mount. The mare remained steady while he raised his left foot for the stirrup, but his judgment failed him, and it took a second attempt. This time his caught his footing and swung over the saddle and clicked her into motion behind Traver’s horse. They started their decent, and Mark started up right where he left off… “I don’t plan on getting a woman pregnant Mr V… do you mind if I just call you Mr. V? … instead of Mr. Vie?” Maxim was starting to regret agreeing to this entire caper… money or no money. Nothing was worth listening to this idiot go on and on… “No Mr. V… I want my girl for the right reasons, and we won’t be having sex until our wedding night. All those other cowboys can have all the sex they want… sex is for pussies.” Maxim snickered at that… “I would suppose most men would agree with you on that point Trent.” So it went, for the next hour and fifteen minutes as the two men rode down the back side of Sheep Mountain. Mark went on about his future bride… and the search for the perfect woman… and the virtue of his dad. “Dad used to tell people… ‘That’s not the way I’d do it.’” Maxim continued to nip at the bottle.
As the trail leveled, and the footing evened out for the horses, the smell of the river started to fill the fresh mountain air. The sun was on its late afternoon decent, and the shadow of the mountains would soon drop the temperature… but it was still a nice afternoon as Mark pulled up next to the river’s edge and allowed Deadman to drink. Maxim followed in next them, and likewise loosened the reins. Each horse sipped quietly while the men dismounted alongside. As soon as his feet were firm on the ground, Maxim again had a strong urge to release his bladder. Thankfully the horse stood steady, and he found himself leaning against her to keep from stumbling.
“Mr. V this is where we part company,” Mark had gathered the mare’s reins and allowed Maxim to zip up and sit down on a rock outcrop laying half in the flow of the stream. “Looks like she fell in love you… at least you’re not laying under some sage brush.” He tethered the mare to Deadman’s saddle, and started to lead them down a path… it looked like it didn’t see much traffic, as the grass was high between the narrow tire lanes. Maxim was happy to be off the horse. “Just how long am I going to be sitting on this rock? I wasn’t informed this was going to be an overnight venture.” Mark paused and turned back, “Soon Mr. V you’re going to meet Javier. He doesn’t speech much English, and even in Spanish, he doesn’t have much to share. I think you’ll find him quite capable. Expect him to show up before you know he’s there.” He then continued on foot leading the horses and his voice could be heard as he rounded the bluff and disappeared downhill from the rock where Maxim was left. “That’s not the way my dad would do it…” Beads of sweat had formed on Maxim’s neck and forehead… he wished he had a hat.
Maxim studied the area. It was hard to distinguish the the main channel of the stream. The valley was an ancient alluvial plain. Several channels… off shoots of the North Fork of the North Platte River cut through the grasses and shrubs forming a network of smaller tributaries all flowing generally in the same direction. The main channel was deep enough to drift in a light craft that didn’t displace much surface water. The ridges overhead were covered with lodge pole pines and aspen groves. The air was arid, and thin… he found himself breathing with more effort than he was used to… as if his lungs weren’t expanding fully. It wasn’t a hot day, but his skin was coated with grime… dust from the trail mixed with his own sweat. He didn’t normally feel all that much impact from drinking, but today his clothes were starting to become damp from the amount of fluid leaving his body. He shut his eyes and laid back on the flat rock. The breeze felt cool on his face. Lenore’s image was creeping into his mind. Lying awkward on the floor… she had a look in her eyes that he’d seen many times. Disgust. All she had to do was give him the money this one last time… he promised it would be the last. She didn’t say words… just that look… her were eyes dark…
“Senor… Mr. Vie.” A voice was talking to him from the room. He opened his eyes, and the image of Lenore evaporated, and the sunlight was painfully shrinking his irises. A shadow blocked the sun, and the profile of a man hovered over him. “Senor Vie… awake por favor. I am Javier.” He gestured with his hands touching his chest. Maxim didn’t hear him approach, and was totally confused for a few moments. When he sat up, and his eyes focused, there was a canvas raft moored to the rock on which he’d been lying. “Sit here.” Javier was pointing at a strap of canvas sewn into the side walls of the raft just behind the bow… bench to keep the passenger from sitting in water that might collect in the rubber bottom of the raft. He managed to roll down the rock onto the raft, and place himself facing toward the back. Javier was seated at the stern, and gently pushed the two away from the shoreline, and allowed the current to take them downstream… a single oar was used to steer and occasionally check the water depth. The ride was soothing to Maxim compared to the ride over Sheep Mountain… and the sudden moves of the mare.
After several bends and cuts in the river, Javier seemed to find a central current and easily kept the raft moving down stream. His utterances were in Spanish, and under his breath. His movement seemed effortless. Maxim was still feeling flushed… probably from the whiskey, but there was a calmness in the drift… he wanted to shut his eyes. Suddenly, he could hear voices… echoes from the trees lining their way. The words were clearly distinguishable, but but not in English, and not in Spanish… Javier was quietly navigating the raft. Maxim thought he should be able to see the people who were chanting… almost singing from the forest of pines. There were no faces. The song went on for a period of time, but he couldn’t say for sure if it was a minute or an hour. It was if time had froze, and nothing changed around him. He could feel his body moving, but he wasn’t sure if he was laying against the raft… or hovering. The air was still, and the light moved from bright afternoon to a dim cast as the sun dropped lower toward the ridgeline. He shook his head and looked at Javier. “What is that noise? Those voices?” Javier glanced into the trees and then at the high horizon. “The spirits of those who once roamed these mountains are calling for you to praise the land and the sky and the Sun.” Javier spoke in perfect English… his accent was that of any educated person. He was talking as if he was narrating the scenery. “The peoples of this land held that the Sun and the sky gave bounty to the land… animals and life were plentiful as long as they lived with a pure heart. They are calling to you now… the words are telling you to purify, and the Sun and the sky will reward you.” Javier’s voice.. and his diction surprised Maxim. He spoke as if he was teaching a young promising warrior about the secrets to living an honest and fruitful life… it was patient and loving. “The spirits in the trees can see into your soul… they are calling you to purify and live as a man should live. At peace with the land.” Maxim was confused by Javier’s voice, and bewildered at the notion that anyone would sing chants from the trees about his purity. “This is nonsense,” he yelled at the mountain, “go back to your caves. Leave me alone.” Javier continued to steer the raft on a straight course down the river. The only sounds were the bubbling eddies behind boulders scattered here and there as they drifted forward. The two men continued in silence. Javier whispered quiet a prayer, “Descansa tu alma… para el desafío que te espera” Rest your soul… for the challenge ahead.
Across the larger valley, sunlight would remain for another hour or so, but not so at the base of the river upon which the two had been adrift. Javier angled the raft along the shoreline just below John’s Lake on the southern end. He held the raft away from the river’s edge… and dropped in a small anchor. The stream bed was visible just a foot down. The clear mountain water was cold, but there was a slow moving current. Maxim sat up when the raft stopped moving and raised up a bit to study the terrain. A few feet away was a flat grassy shoreline that stretched a quarter mile in both directions and toward a distant bluff overlooking the lake on the opposite side. Other than a large rock the size of a Volkswagen, the grassland was uninterrupted in every direction. There appeared to be an object resting on top of the rock. Suddenly, in the opposite direction from where they sat in the river, he noticed his Cadillac parked on what appeared to be a raised road bed in the same direction the river was flowing. He looked at Javier for an explanation. “Mi amigo? Your journey is nearing an end. As you can see, your car awaits across the field. The keys have been left for you. At any time, you may simply go to your car and leave this place.” Maxim hadn’t come all this way just to drive away now. “But there is more,” Maxim interrupted, “I was told twenty thousand dollars would be exchanged for the necklace… what about that?” Javier looked to the isolated rock resting in the distance. “You were not misled Mr. Vie,” Javier pointed, “Upon that rock, you can see that a case has been placed, and the contents are of what you speak… twenty thousand doleres. The case is not locked or otherwise secured to the rock.” Maxim squinted at the object on the rock, “Is that it? I can simply walk over to the case and walk it back to my car? No questions asked?” Javier held up his hand, “Solo un momento,” he continued in English. “There is the matter of the the family broche. You have agreed to return it… si?” Maxim objected, “I’ll tell you where it is once I know that the brief case has twenty thousand dollars inside, and all I have to do is drive away.” Javier leaned forward and repeated, “Where is it Mr. Vie. The sun is about to set, and after it does my instructions are to give you no assurances. The money is in the case, I can assure you of that… I placed it there myself. But without the broche, I can’t guarantee your car will be waiting for you once you have the case. All you have is my word that nobody will stop you from retrieving the money and driving away… provided you give up the location of Ms. Lenore’s heirloom.” Maxim was becoming annoyed, but uncomfortable as well. He was dirty and sweaty, and the air was cooling in the late day. All he wanted to do was leave this place and head back to his home in New Jersey. A mosquito had buzzed his ear, and he finally blurted out. “It’s in the trunk… in a compartment hidden on the right side panel. I can take you there right now.” Javier looked toward the Caddy, and gestured with his hand high in the air. A rider on horseback appeared from behind the car, and dismounted. From the distance, Maxim could recognize the markings of Mark Traver’s horse, Deadman. The trunk opened, and the man leaned in… his figure remained motionless for several minutes. “What is this all about, how did he know where to look?” Then the figure pulled back from the trunk, and waved his hand sided to side. “Mr. Vie, I think we have come to the end of our time together. You are free to go and collect your money.” By now the broach had come to mean nothing… he was going to get twice what he had came for, and nothing stood in his way now. He lowered a leg into the shallow streamside pool and stood up out of the raft. His balance waivered, but Javier had already allowed the raft to drift away. Maxim nearly stumbled into the water, but caught himself and stood up in the water. As Javier drifted down stream, Javier yelled back, “Vaya con dios.”
Maxim had a distance of roughly three hundred yards to the money, and then back track toward his car another three or four hundred yards. He reached down and scooped some water out of the river and splashed his face. Might as well get this over… as he started to take a step onto the shore, a pebble had lodged between his sandal and his foot causing just enough pain to make him lunge forward with one big step onto the grassy flat. A sweeping hum arose from the ground and he looked down to discover that the grass was actually a swamp full of muck… and mosquitoes. Typically, the mosquitoes would be content to remain in the stagnant water at the base of the grass… unless disturbed or mating. His misstep had set off a chain reaction. The buzzing alarmed other mosquitoes within a few feet to also react, and come out of the grass. A cloud of the tiny insects took to flight. Maxim recognized his situation, he needed to get that case quickly, or he’d be swarmed by angry mosquitoes. He started toward the rock at an awkward pace… his sandals were sticking in the black mud with each step. Mosquitoes are attracted to several sources in the height of their mating pattern. Carbon dioxide is one. They are highly designed to seek out a source and follow it for the purpose of finding a blood source. Maxim’s nose and mouth were easily identified as he began to pant… taking heavy breaths in the thin mountain air, each opening an invitation to hundreds of biting mosquitos. Soon his face was covered. He could feel thousands of pin pricks boring into his skin… layers had begun to cake around his nostrils… he began to choke on them. Yet he continued to run toward the rock. The din of noise was deafening. No more could he hear the sound of water bubbling through the nooks, or the pine branches as they played in the breeze. Even the clean aroma of the mountain moss had been replaced by the smell of rotten muck fermenting under the grassy disguise… it was now a putrid dying rot that filled his nose. Squinting trough his crusted eye lids, Maxim could barely see the case full of money. He swatted and thrashed as he lumbered further, but his balance was waning… his was starting to loose his footing. Each leg was blackened by the swamp pitch. A path meandered through the grass from where he started… zigzagging to and fro mindlessly. He started to realize that his life might be in danger. Has anyone ever been eaten to death by these creatures? His thoughts began to drift, and he was starting to drool. He tried to stop and swish the flying swarm… this was a useless gesture. He glanced at his car and estimated the distance. Each step took him away from his car. He could go back to the river, and dive in the water to escape, but he couldn’t bring himself to give up the money. It was so close. Steps now had become a form of dragging himself along. Both sandals were lost back by the river, and his bare feet were being ripped apart by woody particles of debris rotting underneath. His will power started to succumb to the subtle force of nature that is often underestimated for its sheer numbers. One tiny mosquito can be easily slapped and hardly noticed, but this was an endless onslaught. Nature has its own way of tilting the scales. Within fifty yards of the money, Maxim tripped and fell face forward. He was covered with muck. For a moment, he considered giving up, and letting the mosquitoes and the swamp swallow him and die a horrible death. He laid still and his breathing started to slow. The stinging bites where spread now across his neck, shoulders, and legs. He started to pick himself up. Somehow he found strength enough to move on… a steady step by step march, and eventually… reaching the rock.
Pulling himself out of the swamp, Maxim draped himself over the rock and collapsed in exhaustion and pain. His eyes and nose were nearly sealed off due to the swollen tissues. Oddly, what he realized was that the muck had kept him from further attacks. Ironically, the mosquitoes were less able to drive their proboscis through the layer of mud… protecting Maxim at least for the time. The afternoon was quickly giving way to the twilight, and what was left of his reasoning alerted him of the danger of staying too long on the rock. The case with the money was at his side now… he managed to fumble with the latches and raise the lid. Twenty neatly bound bundles of a thousand dollars each were there as promised. He wasn’t deceived. A voice spoke out dim lit swamp surrounding the rock. “That’s not the way I would have done it.” Maxim tried to sit up and look around, but no one was there. He laid back… just let me have a few more moments to rest before I go to the Cadillac. He looked across the grass to make sure it was still where they parked it… it was there, shining in the setting sun. He just needed to rest. Lowering his eye lids he rested on his back. Breathing shallowed, and his heart rate dropped to match. “I’m just sayin… this is not how I’d have done it.” Maxim didn’t open his eyes, but somehow he could see the face of the man talking. He didn’t recognize him, but the face was weathered and tough… a firm look in his eye. “Shortcuts rarely turn out the way you expect. Next time treat her like your wife… not like a trophy. A woman is not a prize to be showed off.” The figure touched his nose and pointed at Maxim, “You should have treated her like a lady.” He shook a bit, and the image disappeared. His exhaustion was deeper than he thought. Clearly he was hallucinating. Somehow he knew, but it was so real. A waft of cool air stroked his prone body, and reminded him he had to get off this rock. The mosquitoes were still abuzz over the entire area… the vibration had them all in the air… seeking to mate and seeking a mammal. Another trigger that enlivens a mosquito is alcohol. They can sense the chemistry in sweat when someone has been drinking. Maxim was dripping from every pore. The haze in his head was thick when he turned on the rock, propped himself up and grabbed the case of money. This was not going to be easy.
The sun just disappeared behind the western skyline when he made the first step on his final leg to the car. The swarm was instantly on alert. They caked around every bare patch of skin… hungry and fighting for a share. He found a way to hold the case in one hand and brush at the most painful area of his body with the other. His eyes were a problem… tearing had provided the mosquitoes with a fresh wet spot, and it was difficult to keep them from lining his eyes and see the direction he wanted to go.. his path again meandered… extending the distance and time he was trapped. His mind was wondering too, he could see Lenore again, only this time her face was sad… there seemed to be sorrow in her eyes. She gestured to him, but kept moving away… he reached for her hand, but it was too far. Lenore began to evaporate. Maxim felt himself crying. His steps were labored and often he stopped in order to keep from collapsing once again. He questioned himself… and his body had no answer. Maxim wet himself… humiliation was starting to peak. A glance up at the car told him he had well over two hundred yards to go. A realization started to come over him… an awareness. He was not going to make it. Again he stopped and bent over… the case dropped in the sludge. He couldn’t breathe… he wasn’t sure what he could do to get out of this den of demons. Collapsing to his knees, Maxim slumped on his heels and started to weep without control. His sobbing was from deep down. Then the voices started their chant… a rhythm matching the hum of the swarm. He could feel himself being consumed. They were calling for his purity… chanting for the release of his soul. Maxim was spent, and could feel the swamp pulling him down. The voices rejoiced as he sank. The water rose around his ears and worked in and around his mouth and nose. The sky started to close in around him… the voices faded away as he was lost below the roots … finally the sounds of the buzzing swarm left his ears. The smell of rot was gone from his nostrils. Swelling gave way to comfort, and he could feel himself drifting down the river… the lovely sounds of bubbles came back. He felt a smile on his face… he was pure.
When Bill handed Lenore the necklace her eyes welled up. “I’m sorry this happened Lenore. I am confident you will never have to worry about Maxim again… its over.” She smiled a sad smile and cradled the broach. Looking down at it, she asked him, “Is he ok?” She knew he’d never give it up easily… his pride wouldn’t allow it. “I want to believe he is Lenore, but honestly I can’t say that for sure. I am assured that he won’t be making anymore uninvited visits to this ranch.” She seemed very pleased at having the broach back in her possession, but he could tell she had more on her mind. “Bill? Tell me this didn’t cost you. He came to me demanding money. When I refused, his temper flared, and he lost all reason. I’m lucky he didn’t hurt me before he left.” Bill stood pondering the question. “He was offered to take a lesser amount if he would just return Mom’s necklace, but he made a choice. His choice was to accept terms for returning it, or leave here with it… not knowing what to expect next. A fair offer was made, and he made a choice. Now it’s over, and I can live with the outcome. That was something our mother cherished, and you should have it now.” Lenore smiled and hugged her brother. “I just want to have a normal life.”
Along the banks of the Michigan River near the headwater is a line shack belonging to the U.S. Forest Service and used by the North Diamond Ranch for summering cattle. The shack has a stove and fireplace, but no running water or electricity. Javier took over the use of the shack for its privacy. He could fish the variety of streams at that altitude… rarely coming across another fisherman. His day had proven a success. He had five takes on pool using a Griffith’s gnat. They were small, but enough to give him a nice dinner. Evening was coming on, and he liked to finish cooking, eating, and cleaning up in time to read before he went to sleep. As he turned on his lamp, there came a groan from the back bunk. A figure of a man was laid out and sleeping. Javier glanced up. He walked to the bunk and stood over the man. His face was full and fleshy. He still had trouble opening his eyes, but at least his breathing was steady and his fever finally broke. He’d been asleep for days, and Javier looked in on him several times each day. There is no one more capable of tending to a creature of God’s earth. “Senor Vie… are you finally going to wake up?” There was a distant look in the watering eyes peering through his swollen lids. He grunted, made no notable noise that sounded like a word. Javier wetted a cloth and dabbed his lips. The water was clean and cool, and he sipped at the cloth. This is good thought Javier… his body was swollen in just about every way, but he needed to drink to cleans the tissues. He fell back to sleep. Javier adjusted the blanket and sat back down to read. Soon… Javier planned to fish the North Fork of the North Platte River… the fish are much bigger in that water. “Los mosquitos protegen a las truchas.” Fortunately, mosquitoes never so much as lit on Javier’s skin.
…