The Independents (15 page)

Under the g
uise of his official Colombian trade m
ission credentials,
his family and 30 of his most trusted men
had been visitors at
Big Bend when
everything fell
apart
.
They had pretended to be frightened, stranded guests until the
right moment, when they had killed the rangers and taken over the park.
Their diplomatic immunity had made it easy to bring in weapon
s, disguised as trade samples.

Estebon had been clueless about the gold until
a few weeks later. O
ne of his men reported an
odd
encounter with a
low-level
member of the Mexican cartel
. The chance meeting had occurred
in the
Mexican
village
of
Chilua, right across the river from the park. It seemed that rumors were flying all along the border about a hoard of gold in the town of
Meraton
. The cartel messenger
had initially been ordered to meet with a Yankee gang who wanted safe passage to the coast
. They had
of
fered
to pay
with gold - lots of gold.
Apparently, when th
e shit had
hit the fan, the
cartel’s man
had never received further instructions
and had been waiting ever since
.

Estebon could care less about the gold. He
knew it had little value now that things had gone to hell. Perhaps one day it might, but right now, a loaf of bread was worth more than a pound of gold.
What disturbed him about the meeting was
that
the cartel belie
ved Estebon already had the booty
. His man was plied with free drinks at the village’s cantina in an attempt to dislodge the location of the treasure. When that hadn’t produced results, threats were made an
d a shootout had seemed imminent
.
His employee,
an ex-Colombian Special Forces c
aptain, was reliable
. The good c
aptain had reported
that
his
new Mexican friend
asked over and over again
, “Why else would you be here? Why else would
you pick this spot if not
to take the gold
,
eh?”

His beloved Carmen and little Isabella
disappeared the next day. They had become bored and
begged
to go for a hike in on
e of the park’s remote areas. Estebon
had final
ly given in, ordering two body
guards to accompany them on their trip. Si
x hours later, a rock sailed
through the front window of the hotel. Tied to the rock
was a note wrapped around Carmen
’s ring finger
. Still attached to the bloody stub was the
wedding ring he had given her ten years before
.

The note demanded a meeting at the river. It recommended he bring the gold with him
. There was to be an
exchange for his loved on
es. Estebon didn’t have the treasure, but, of course,
went to the meeting anyway.

He didn’
t know
the M
exican
who came across the river in a small
rowboat
. The man was clearly nervous,
and
obviously just a messenger. When Estebon
told
the hombre that
he didn’t have the gold, the
messenger
had h
anded h
im a hand-
written letter
and paddled away very quickly
.

Estebon read the letter and was stunned. He was given
three
weeks to find the gold and deliver it to the Santa R
osa church in Cuidad. If he failed in his mission, Isabella would be sold into slavery and Carmen would lose much more than a finger.

He had immediately called h
is men together and implemented a plan to
send teams into all of the surr
ounding towns
to gather all of the intelligence they could. It was to be a subtle effort with each team pretending to be
travelers
simply
passing through.
Estebon’s second order
was to search the desolate countryside outside of the park.
Using two vehicles, a
grid-
based examination was initiated to discover
any local people and again, gather all of the
data
they could.

The two spies
sent into
Meraton
came back to the pa
r
k quickly with
information
that was useful to Estebon
.
T
he couple
recounted a
story of
bank robbers, the gold and a mysterious stranger named “Bishop.” Clearl
y, the legend of this gringo
h
ad grown over time, or so Estebon
believed. According to the sources in
Meraton
, this Bishop person had taken o
n an entire gang of vigilantes single-
handed
ly and slaughtered them all. Estebon
thought the story was one of those t
ales that had become embellished
with each telling
. Losing three men this morning
, to an exaggerated legend,
had Estebon
reconsidering
exactly
who
he was up against.
Bishop was said to have a ranch west of
Meraton
. The gold was rumored
to have been taken to that location
.

Estebon had immediately changed the mission of his roving search teams. The new priority was to find Mr. Bishop’s ranch.
It was on
e of these search teams that had seen
the Colonel
’s airplane that very day.

Estebon did the math, and the odds were not good. There were thousands of square miles of inaccessible territory
,
and even if the rumors about this Bishop character were completely blown out of
proportion
, he might
still be
capable of
hiding any sign of
a buried treasure
.

Estebon believed he had finally found Bishop
, or more accurately, Bishop had found him
. He glanced over at the young girl asleep on a nearby couch and smiled. He would soon meet this
so-called
living legend face-to-face.
Estebon returned his gaze to
the
steep walls of the mountain and the exposed
formations of
igneous
rock.
He couldn’
t help but
compare himself to the rugged landscape and realized a sense of confidence. He identified with the mountain – strong and indifferent to
surrounding events
.
 

In truth, the parallel never existed.
The m
ountain was a manifestation
of strength and a presence of resolve.
Its
honor
was
an
unquestionable majesty, fully exposed and laid bare to time itself.
Air,
wind,
and water were true tests of character. Endurance
measured in eons of sun from above and magma from below
earned
confidence
.
Nature’s magnum opus rarely has much in common with “fool’s gold.”

Bishop’s watch
alarm was set for 4:00 a.m.
I
t managed t
wo beeps before his finger squashed
the tiny reset button.
He
groggily
rubbed his eyes and rolled
out of
the
narrow
camper berth that had become his
bed
.
He stretched and then immediately checked for Terri, who was not in her
normal place beside him
.
He reached for the
nearby
pistol before e
verything came rushing back
. H
e relaxed a bit, believing her to be with
the Colonel
and D
avid, hopefully catching a few precious winks in the
Bat Cave
.
He pondered if he would ever wake up like a normal person again
.
He looked
out all of the windows
of the camper,
listening for any sign of something being wrong or out of place. Everything seemed fine.

He pulled on his best pair of faded blue jean
s, found a clean pair of socks
,
and then laced up his boots.
The socks smelled like sun-
dried laundry
,
and that was one of the positive things about thei
r lifestyle. They had used the last of their toothpaste supply
last week, so
this morning
he brushed his teeth using baking soda. H
e
double-
checked the pistol’s safety and then
slowly made his way
to the
c
ave.
He entered the rock walled room and found Terri asleep in one of the hammocks.
The Colonel
and David were both
resting
on the floor. Bishop checked
the Colonel
’s breathing and found it labored and slower than b
efore. He was unsure if that were the effect of the c
odeine or a sign of
the man’s physical
deterioration.

A
bright
flash of light
outside startled him. It was
followed quickly by
the sound
of
thunder
crashing against the exposed rock walls of the box canyon
.
Oh great, just what I need - a thunderstorm.
While this area of Texas received little
annual
rainfall,
the occasional winter tempest
did roll through
. Normally, Bishop would have welcomed the rare
squall
. Today, given his plans
, a storm was going to complicate
an already
difficult
situation.

Using a lighter, Bishop
started
a fire in a miniature co
ok pit he had built inside the cave. After the shootout with the bank robbers in
Meraton
, Bishop had found
their loot in
a hotel room
.
While he had no use for the gold and other stolen
valuables
, he did
find something that he treasured even more than precious metals
. Somewhere, somehow, the thugs had managed to pick up
two 10
-
pound
bags of coffee beans
. Since they were all dead, it was impossible to know where the gang had c
ome across this roasted prize
.
The grateful people of
Meraton
had gladly
rewarded
Bishop
with
the beans.

While 2
0 pounds of coffee was not an infinite supply,
B
ishop figured his
back
stock
would last
about six months if
it were rationed
carefully. He had
joked with Terri that he was going to mount
an invasion of Colombia after his stores were depleted. Knowing Bishop’s weakness for his morning caffeine, s
he hadn’t been so sure he was
kidding
.
She didn’t like my joke about having a new career as a bean counter
,
either.

While the coffee water was heating, Bishop ran his checklists and packed eq
uipment. His attention was diverted from his work when he
heard the now uncommon sporadic sound of fat
raindrops falling on the desert floor and watch
ed as another flash of lightning
ripped
the night sky.

“Is that thunder?”

He spun around to see a sleepy looking Terri sitting on the edge of the hammock
,
her legs dangling over the edge.

“Good morning,
sleepyhead;
and yes, that
was
thunder.”

Terri looked down at their sleeping guests and whispered, “Oh wow
.
Bishop, it hasn’t rained since we
’ve
been here. You never told me there were thunderstorms
in this part of Texas
.”

Bishop’s
eyebrows went
up and down.
“Baby, you haven’t experienced the best part of a desert storm. Just wait.”

Terri walked over
to the cave’s doorway and peered
outside while Bishop made his coffee. He was about to take his firs
t sip when a gravelly voice asked
, “Is that coffee?” Bishop
glanced
to see
the Colonel
’s head turned toward him.

Bishop whispered
,
“Sure is
,
sir. W
ould you like a cup?”

“My god
,
son. T
hat is about the dumbest question I have heard in a month of Sundays. My dying wish would be for a hot cup of
hot
Joe.”
The in
jured man managed a small laugh.
“I guess that’s not so funny anymore –
‘
dying wish
,’
that is.”

Bishop grinned and began exploring the cave for another mug. He opened a couple of plastic containers
and
poked around
, but couldn’t find a
ny
cup
s
. Terri walked
directly
to the right box
, pull
ed
out a set of two matching mug
s,
and
silently
gave
Bishop
a
triumphant
look
that clearly said, “
Y
ou c
ouldn’t find your head if it were
n’t attached.”

Bishop became teasingly sarcastic.
“Terri, would you like coffee
as well?”

She grinned and replied, “While you’re at it, yes
,
please. I feel like celebrating
because of the storm
.”

On cue, the rain began coming down in sheets
,
and
they could hear the wind whistling
through the rocks surrounding the c
amp. Bishop handed Terri her drink
and motioned for her to follow
him
to the doorway. When they were sta
nding side
b
y
side, he whispered in her ear.
“
Take a deep breath
through your nose
,
baby.”

Terri allowed the air to fill her lungs before stopping.
She repeated his instructions a second and then a third time.

“Oh my god! What is that wonderful smell?”

“I’m not sure, but it does that every time it rains here. I don’t know if it’s the soil, or the plants or the rocks. Maybe it’s everything.”

“How long does this
last?” she asked, inhaling deeply again.

Bishop scratched behind his ear.
“It varies, but at least another ten minutes
or so. You will notice the same
scent again when the storm stops, but it doesn’t seem to linger
as long
then
.”

Bishop looked at his watch and really needed to get moving, but decided some things were more important than timelines. He put his arm around Terri
,
and they stood together drinking coffee, watching the lightning
,
and enjoying the aroma of the desert.
One of these days
,
I hope this is the most important thing we have to do together.
Dear Lord in H
eaven, please make that day come soon.

Estebon was busy giving instructions to his men. It wasn’t raining at Big Bend, 70 miles to the south of Bishop’s ranch. He could hear the thunder in the distance and wanted to get on the road north as soon as possible. He had initially thoug
ht about placing some of his personal thugs in the area to trail
Bishop back to his ranch, but had quickly dismissed the idea. He couldn’t be
positive Bishop would even take the bait.
The girl he had taken hostage knew nothing. According to her story, she had slept
through
most of the plane ride
,
having been exhausted
after her
family’s
escape from Houst
on. She claimed to have awakened
as the engine sputtered
out of gas
,
and
then
they crashed
on the highway
. She
’d
never heard of Bishop
or any gold. She knew her grandfather worked for a large oil company and had been in the Army. She also was worried that her granddad was going t
o die from the injuries sustained
during the crash landing.
The woman Estebon had executed was a good friend of her grandfather’s, but the girl knew little more than that.

Estebon had interrogated his share of people and believed she was telling the truth. While her lack of knowledge didn’t help his confidence in the plan, he still believed Bishop would show up at the site of the plane wreck. He was counting on the relationship between Bishop and the old man. He would not be disappointed.

Bishop left the camp in the rain. He was wearing a poncho that covered his pack and most of his body. He knew from experience that his legs would be soaked in a short time, but his core would remain dry and warm.
He had changed weapons, preferring his favorite
M4 Carbine to the
heavier,
longer-range
rifle he selected for the first expedition in search of the
Cessna
. While this rifle didn’t have the range or
a scope that was nearly as powerful,
it was more effective at close range. It
was
his “go to gun,” as he
had
trained and fought more with this weapon than any other.

As he
made his way through the maze of tripwires and booby traps surrounding the
camper, he was concerned that either the rain or wind might set off one of his devices, or mak
e
it
inoperable. He made a note to ch
eck each one after the storm
passed.

He was also troubl
ed about the lightning and the visibility it would provide
for anyone searching for his camp. He was using a night vision device, or NVD, and knew it would give
him an advantage over any foe.
Now, his
advantage was somewhat diminished
,
given the
light created by the
occasional fl
ashes
of
the
storm.

As he made his way toward the road, he was careful to
take his time,
moving
slowly
, staying behind cover as much as possible.
He could have taken a shortcut and arrived at the crash site much sooner
, but
that involved covering
several hundred meters of open ground. Wisely, he kept to the rock formations and small patches of scrub that dotted the area.

When he finally reached a good observation point f
rom which to view the wreckage
, he took his time and scanned the entire area several times. Nothing appeared to have changed,
with the dead bodies still strewn about exactly as he remembered
.
His next move was to identify and note every location nearby where he
would personally choose
to
set up for an ambush. He
pinpointed
seven such locations
;
and
t
hat was simply too many
spots
to
check and
verify no one had arrived before him.
Bishop
decided to change the game somewhat, and proceeded toward the south for several hundred meters. As he moved through the rocks paralleling
the road, he eventually came to
an area that cont
ained only two good hiding positions
.
There
’s
no reason why our meeting ha
s
to be at the plane. I
’ll
just
move the location.