Beneath the Tombstone (The Tombstone Series) (13 page)

Irwin
nodded his head in understanding. “I know how you feel. I wasn’t myself for
several years after my wife passed away.” He paused for a moment and sighed,
“Look, I’ll tell you what I’ll do… How long until your birthday?”

“Almost
a month,” Jason replied.

“Good,”
Irwin responded. “That is when the note said you were to climb, correct?”

“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 moment 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.

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 budge 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.

“
Y’all
sit tight.  I’ll get ‘
em
up,” the hotshot man declared as he jammed the electric prod into first one and
then the other.

“Lose
the hotshot!” the older cowboy spat as he spurred his way over to a gate that
separated the pen he was in from outside where the hotshot-happy man was.
“They’re stuck! You’re
gonna
make them too weak to
get up!”

“If
you give anything enough inspiration, it’ll set itself free!” the man with the
electric prod shouted gleefully, like the cowboys need not worry; he had it all
under control. With that, he went back to holding the hotshot on first one
heifer then the other as they thrashed around and bawled.

Jason
saw the older cowboy come spurring up behind the man who was so deeply
enthralled with his pointless torture that he didn’t hear the horse coming
until it was almost on top of him. In an act of self-defense, he tried to turn
and stick the cowboy’s horse with the hotshot, but the cowboy grabbed it
directly behind the metal prongs and snatched it from his grasp.

Raising
it above his head in sword-fashion, the cowboy charged his horse forward and,
like a medieval warrior on a mission to cut down the enemy, swung the hotshot
at the back of the cattle trailer, sending the base of it flying into splinters.

With
that, he slide his horse to a stop, spun it around and trotted back over to the
ex-hotshot man who starred wide eyed at his demolished prod as it was dropped
at his feet.

“I
should’ve known better than to ask a moron to do a man’s job,” the cowboy spat.
“Now crawl back up in that trailer where you belong.”

A defiant
look came over trucker’s face before he lamely spoke the only words of defense
that his little mind could muster. “It’s a free country.”

The
big cowboy stared down at him from his horse and began to unwrap the piece of
rubber that held a rope to the horn of his saddle. “Maybe – maybe not,” he
replied dryly as he began to build a loop. “Go get in the trailer,” he added
like it was the last warning.

“Look
Tyler,” the young horseman intervened, concern evident in his voice, “we don’t
need no
hangin
’.”

“A
hanging around the neck cuts off the flow of oxygen to the brain,” the older
man explained to the younger. “Wouldn’t do this fella here a bit of harm
seein
’ how he don’t have no a brain.” He then directed his
attention back to the man of whom he spoke. “Times up,” he said as he began to
whirl the rope around his head.

Fear
finally registered in the eyes of the trucker, and he began to walk backward
before turning to run. As he did, the man referred to as Tyler gave the rope
one final whirl before releasing it. The man on the ground was a good ten feet
away and running but, in spite of his disadvantage, the cowboy laid a perfect
trap; the top of the loop coiled around the man’s shins as the bottom slid
across in front of his shoes on the ground. One more step and he was snared.
The horseman simply pulled the slack tight, yanking the fleeing man’s feet
together and causing him to do a face-plant into the ground. The cowboy then
wrapped the rope around his saddle horn as he spun his horse in a half circle on
its heels and began dragging the screaming man across the yard.

They
went right passed a wide eyed Jason, who was hiding behind the door of his
pickup, over to a tree where the crazy horseman unwrapped the rope from the
saddle horn and looped his bridal reins over it. With both hands free, he kept
the tension with one hand as he tossed the coils of the rope over the limb with
the other. Gathering the reins back up, he made a single loop around the saddle
horn which allowed the rope to slide across the horn as he trotted away from
the tree, yet kept enough tension on the rope to prevent the man from going
free. When the cowboy reached the end of the rope, he took another wrap on the
saddle horn without slowing down. The rope tightened and the flailing, hollering
man was hoisted by his feet into the air where he dangled back and forth like a
pendulum.

The
horseman then circled the tree at a trot several times before coming to a stop
and tying the end of the rope to a post close by. Change was falling from the trucker’s
pockets as horse and rider approached him. “If you don’t want to go hang out in
your trailer then you can just hang out here for a while,” the horseman said
with a smile before he rode off, chuckling to himself about the little joke
he’d made.

Jason
turned around and looked into his truck. Over in the passenger-side seat, a
scared little doctor sat, his window rolled all the way up. As Tomas peered out
at the horseman that loped by, headed back in the direction of the loading
chute, he reached up and quickly locked the door.

“Jason,
let’s get out of here,” Tomas pleaded. “He may decide to hang me, too.”

“Only
if you make him,” Jason spoke, unable to refrain from a little mockery.
“Remember, you’re in control of this situation.” He then shook his head a
little, unable to hold back one last jab. “I just can’t believe you made him
hang that poor man.”

With
a smile, Jason left the doctor brewing in a mixture of fear, shame and what
seemed to be a touch of anger. Jason’s footsteps took him in the direction of
the loading chute, where he’d just seen the older cowboy drop down into the
channel out of sight. He didn’t want to get roped, dragged, and hanged, but his
curiosity was getting the better of him.

“Come
help me, man! Get me down!” Jason heard the man hanging upside-down hollering
to the doctor who acted like he couldn’t hear the obvious plea. He had probably
seen the rope that the younger cowboy had on his saddle and didn’t wish to wind
up dangling alongside the trucker.

Upon
reaching the loading shoot, Jason peered over the edge. Each yearling had wound
up pointing in the same direction, but the one on the top was stranded like an
upside-down turtle, pinning the other. The younger cowboy was up under the rump
of the calf on top, trying to lift the back half of the five hundred pound
beast. The older cowboy, who up close appeared to only be in his early to
mid-thirties, grabbed the tail of the bottom calf and pulled for all he was
worth. The heifer was still wedged under the other and wouldn’t budge an inch.

“She’s
about gone,” the older cowboy spoke to the younger. “We’ve got to get her out.”

It
was about that time that Jason was spotted. “Get in here,” the older cowboy
instructed without missing a beat. Jason didn’t react instantly. He had always
been a little leery about crawling into confined spaces with animals that were
more than twice his size. “Now!” the man spoke again in a more urgent voice.
Jason cast a quick glance over at the groaning man suspended from the tree then
back at the two yearlings, weighing the options. With his mind made up, he
dropped down into the loading chute beside the younger of the two, who appeared
to be in his late-teens.