Pedestals of Ash (8 page)

Bishop sat right where he was and gradually sipped water for almost 15 minutes
, savoring every wet drop
let
. He listened to the few late afternoon desert birds talking to each other in the distance and was fascinated by two small lizards performing some sort of ritual aroun
d a pile of nearby rocks.
The shadows were beg
inning to grow longer as the late afternoon sun
clung to the western mountains.
Bishop wanted to get into his gear and get moving
while there was still a little light
. It was always easier to break camp without using the night vision or f
umbling around in complete darkness
.

He folded up the plastic bags and walked back to his shelter. He found the
deer jerky and ate a large slice
, washing it down with the last few gulps of water. That little bit of food and hydration seemed to recharge his body and mind. He finished packing,
double-checked
to make sure
he wasn’t leaving anything behind
,
and continued his westward journey just as the sun slipped
below
the horizon
.

Terri, Nick
,
and Kevin
spent the rest of the afternoon catching up on the events of the last few months. When their hunger go
t the best of them, they enjoyed a late supper of
homemade burritos at Pete’s, and Nick threw back the first “hard” liquor he’d tasted in a long time. Dusk quickly faded into night, as Pete and Nick exchanged stories while Terri and Kevin laughed and inserted a few of their own.

After locking up the Manor’s office,
Bet
ty stopped by
the bar
to see how things were going,
and decided to hang around and enjoy some tall tales herself.
Terri had shared the news of her pregnancy earlier in the afternoon
,
and Nick had squeezed her tightly at the announcement.
However, the revelation prompted a continued
barrage
of jokes and innuendo, all focusing on the idea of a little Bishop,
loose at the ranch. Even Terri had to admit, just the mental image of such a thing made her smile.

“Well, you can’t just refer to the bambino as ‘Little Bishop’ forever,” Betty prote
sted. You know, there is even the
possibility that you might give birth to a little girl. Terri’s mind’s eye instantly photoshopped an image of a Shirley Temple singing “The Good Ship Lollipop,”
except the chubby cherub
was wearing Bishop’s face
, surrounded by ringlets
. Terri almost choked on the remaining bite of her burrito
.

After regaining her composure,
Terri became thoughtful for a moment
before responding to Betty’s statement. “Well, you know with all that has been going on,
we haven’t even discussed it yet. I didn’t want to know the sex of the child when Doc did the ultrasound, so I guess we need to pick two names
. And I suppose
there is no time like the present to try out baby names for fit
.” The conversation quickly focused on what the new addit
ion to the ranch should be called. Everyone exuberantly blurted
out
ideas
, and Terri couldn’t keep track
of all the suggestions
. When she protested, Pete volun
teered paper and pencil so the mother-to-be
could record all of their suggestions
to share with Bishop later.

Pete favored names that had stood the test of time like “James” and “Will.”
Nick and Kevin suggested
“Ranger, Hunter and
Colton
,” for
a boy, along with “Terra, Riley, or Taylor,
” for a girl.

Betty shook her head in
disapproval at the testosterone-
influenced tags. “Oh my,” she
declared
, “why can’t it
be something more in keeping with
the times? Many people
honor a relative by naming their little one
af
ter a favorite aunt
, uncle,
cousin,
or grandparent. It might be a nice way to carry on a family name. How about it, Terri?
Do
you
know any of Bishop’s relatives’
names? What about his parents?”

Terri thought again, “No, not really. He doesn’t say much about any family. I guess
I’m the s
ame way…
e
specially
since
Mom passed
…
.
” Terri paused
,
and
got a pained expression, betraying
her hurt
. The memories of watching television that day c
ame rushing back.
E
veryone
immediately
realize
d something was wrong
,
and silence fell over the
otherwise giddy
troop
. “I’m sorry,” she
faltered
, “let’s talk about something else
.
”
 

Nic
k decided to plug his earlier observation,
while steering the conversation in a slightly new direction.
“One thing is for certain. If it’s a boy, we don’t want him named Bishop. There’s only room in Texas for one
of those
! I propose a toast to absent friends and fast reunions.” Nick lifted his glass
,
as
did everyone at the table. “To Bishop,” was heard from a chorus of
voices
, as
the glasses of water, bathtub gin, tea and homemade beer clinked together. Nick’s toast had done the trick
,
and the rest of the evening was filled with laughter and good cheer.

Travel
ing by the light of the moon,
th
e group meandered
back to t
he Manor.
Te
rri’s
mood
became melancholy as she missed her mate. She would give anything if Bishop
could have been here to enjoy the laughter shared among good friends. After saying her goodnights, Terri stood in the garden and looked up at the stars. She whispered
,
“I love you
,
Bishop – please come home to me soon.” A tear wandered down her cheek and was quick
ly wiped away. Terri took solace in her comfortable bed
and was asleep within the hour.

The desert around Bishop was relatively flat
,
with
patches of cactus and scrub
,
widely spaced.
There was a good moon and cloudless
sky
,
so walking at night
didn’t present much of a problem
. More out of habi
t than necessity, he brought
his rifle up and peer
ed
through the night vision every so often just to check the terrain ahead.

After he had traveled a few hours, he paused to take a break and scan the horizon. As the green and black world generated by the
night vision
swept
past
, a familiar shape caught his attention
,
and he zeroed in on it immediately. It was a windmill. Thousands of these devices had been used on farms and ranches for over 1
5
0 years. One of the first uses of renewable energy, the wind would spin the blades and power a water pump. The pump would fill a trough used by livestock on remote stretches of land. A windmill meant water.

Many ranches also installed these
units
in the general area of the main house as well, and Bishop approached with caution. Being shot as a burglar or looter wasn’t in his plan. In the la
st 20 years, many of these wind-
driven pumps had been replaced with electric models
,
powered by solar panels. It wasn’t a matter of efficiency or capability, but one of cost. The windmill’s heavy tower, metal blades
,
and steel shaft were expensive to purchase when compared to a cheap electrical pump
,
powered by the sun
. It wasn’t u
nusual to see the old mill loom
ing over the newer technology
,
like a
schoolteacher
watching her
student at the blackboard.

Regardless of what was pumping, the mill’s tower was like a beacon
to a man needing water. The
one
Bishop
spotted was a remote unit with no buildings or homes in sight. Still, he circled the area quietly
,
just in case he hadn’t been the only one to notice this potential source of life. The ground indicated the
re were cattle in the area as the earth
was chopped up with thousands of hoof prints. The piles of older dung and patches of hair on a nearby fence confirmed his assumption.

Bishop scanned the vicinity carefully with his night vision and judged he was alone at the watering hole. He actually smelled the water before he laid eyes on it. There, shimmering in the moonlight was the most wonderful sight Bishop thought he had ever seen. The large galvanized tub w
as brim full of wet, cool, life-sustaining
wate
r. He wasted no time
in
removing
his pack and retrieving his filter. Even though he was sure the water was fine, now wasn’t the time to risk diarrhea or worse.

It took him a few minutes to strip off his load vest and water bladder. He submerged one end of the water purifier’s hose into the tub and
positioned
the outl
et into his cup. After about
2
0
pumps, the cup was full
, and he guzzled
it all in a few seconds. He then proceeded to fill his camelback to the brim. Bishop paused, having a crazy thought. On a whim,
he pulled his flashlight off
the vest and turned it to the red filter. He shined the light into the watering tub and saw it was completely clear with the exception of a few dead bugs on the surface. He thought for a moment and figured
,
W
hy the hell not
?
Another two minutes
later and Bishop was equipment-
free. Still wearing his clothes, he stepped over the edge of the trough and slowly submerged himself in the cool water. While not qu
ite up to p
ar with the pool at t
he Manor, the feelin
g was still incredible. He hand-
scrubbed every part of his c
lothing and skin within reach, including a vigorous scalp massage.

After the bath, he leaned back against the side of th
e tub and relaxed. As he gazed skyward,
he couldn’t help but admire the view. The effects of light pollution had always made the stars less visible in Houston than out here in the west. Bishop wondered if the d
ecline of man and the demise
of electric lights had changed that. The night sky was so thick with distant suns there were sections that seemed more white than black.