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Authors: Michael McGarrity
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backpacks and a stretcher hiked quickly up the hillside. The old man's breathing had improved, and a bit of color was back. The paramedics took over, wrapped him in more blankets, got an IV started, and carted him on the stretcher to the waiting chopper,
"Where are you taking him?" Kerney asked, as he walked alongside the stretcher. The old man wouldn't let go of Kerney's hand.
"Gila Regional in Silver City," one of the paramedics answered. "You guys did a good job."
"Take care of him."
"No problem. He looks like a tough old bird," the paramedic answered.
Kerney had to pry his hand free as the old man was lifted into the chopper. "You're going to be fine," he said, in Spanish.
"Carlotta," the old man whispered.
Kerney leaned closer. "Who is Carlotta? Your daughter? Your wife?" he asked.
The man looked confused. "My wife," he said. "You should know that, little one. She is your grandmother."
"Where is Grandmother?"
"Dead."
"Was she with you last night?" Kerney insisted.
The man shook his head sadly. "I'm not sure. You are a good boy, Hector. Take care of my father's sheep."
The chopper pilot waved Kerney away before he could question the old man further. He walked back to Stiles.
"Did the old man say anything?" Jim asked.
"He rambled on a bit in Spanish."
Mexican Hal ■ 67
"Could you make anything out?"
"He called me Hector and said Carlotta was dead."
"So he speaks English," Jim ventured.
"No."
"Did he use the word muerto for dead?"
"That's what I heard," Kerney answered.
"Carlotta, who could that be?"
"His esposa, he said."
''Esposa, that means wife. Damn! I should have gone with you. My Spanish is pretty good. Maybe I could have gotten more out of him."
"Maybe," Kerney allowed. "But while we're looking for that mountain lion, I think we'd better keep an eye out for at least one or two lost people."
"Lost or dead," Stiles replied. He wadded up the old man's clothes and expensive oxford shoes and stuffed them into the saddlebags.
The helicopter, a speck in the sky, followed the gravel road that cut across the high valley of the mountains, on a fast track to Silver City through the passes.
Kerney turned, looked up at the mountain and back at Jim Stiles. "That old man didn't travel through the canyon we rode in on. We would have seen his sign."
Stiles nodded in agreement. "My bet is that he came in on the Mangas road or walked down from Elderman Meadows."
"Any way in by vehicle?" Kerney asked.
"An abandoned road goes to the meadows. Hardly anybody knows about it. It's not marked on any of the maps." Jim Stiles pointed at the lowest range of foothills that curved below them, running in a broken wave. "Mangas used to be a village around that
Michael M c G a r r i t y
bend. The road takes off behind the school and climbs to the meadows. Maybe he tried to drive in and got himself stuck. It happens. Last winter an old couple from someplace back east decided to take a side trip on a ranch road. Storm came up, and two weeks later they found the man dead in a snowbank and his wife frozen solid in the car. You ready to look for that mountain lion?"
"Think that's all we're going to find?" Kerney replied, putting out the small fire.
A grin broke across Jim's face. "This is getting more interesting all the time, isn't it?" He mounted and nodded at the closest foothill. "We'll drop below that hill and pick up the trailhead. Shouldn't be long before we know what the rest of the day will bring."
At the trailhead, it took only a few minutes for Jim to find the radio collar under a juniper tree.
"Cut," he said, picking it up with a stick. "Somebody killed the cat." He wrapped the collar in plastic and tied it to the saddle pommel. "We need to find the carcass." His expression turned sour. "If there is one to find."
Kerney walked parallel to the trail, leading his horse, studying the ground.
"What's up?" Jim asked.
"ATV tracks. And some shoe prints. Give me the old man's oxfords."
Stiles dug a shoe out
"Where are you taking him?" Kerney asked, as he walked alongside the stretcher. The old man wouldn't let go of Kerney's hand.
"Gila Regional in Silver City," one of the paramedics answered. "You guys did a good job."
"Take care of him."
"No problem. He looks like a tough old bird," the paramedic answered.
Kerney had to pry his hand free as the old man was lifted into the chopper. "You're going to be fine," he said, in Spanish.
"Carlotta," the old man whispered.
Kerney leaned closer. "Who is Carlotta? Your daughter? Your wife?" he asked.
The man looked confused. "My wife," he said. "You should know that, little one. She is your grandmother."
"Where is Grandmother?"
"Dead."
"Was she with you last night?" Kerney insisted.
The man shook his head sadly. "I'm not sure. You are a good boy, Hector. Take care of my father's sheep."
The chopper pilot waved Kerney away before he could question the old man further. He walked back to Stiles.
"Did the old man say anything?" Jim asked.
"He rambled on a bit in Spanish."
Mexican Hal ■ 67
"Could you make anything out?"
"He called me Hector and said Carlotta was dead."
"So he speaks English," Jim ventured.
"No."
"Did he use the word muerto for dead?"
"That's what I heard," Kerney answered.
"Carlotta, who could that be?"
"His esposa, he said."
''Esposa, that means wife. Damn! I should have gone with you. My Spanish is pretty good. Maybe I could have gotten more out of him."
"Maybe," Kerney allowed. "But while we're looking for that mountain lion, I think we'd better keep an eye out for at least one or two lost people."
"Lost or dead," Stiles replied. He wadded up the old man's clothes and expensive oxford shoes and stuffed them into the saddlebags.
The helicopter, a speck in the sky, followed the gravel road that cut across the high valley of the mountains, on a fast track to Silver City through the passes.
Kerney turned, looked up at the mountain and back at Jim Stiles. "That old man didn't travel through the canyon we rode in on. We would have seen his sign."
Stiles nodded in agreement. "My bet is that he came in on the Mangas road or walked down from Elderman Meadows."
"Any way in by vehicle?" Kerney asked.
"An abandoned road goes to the meadows. Hardly anybody knows about it. It's not marked on any of the maps." Jim Stiles pointed at the lowest range of foothills that curved below them, running in a broken wave. "Mangas used to be a village around that
Michael M c G a r r i t y
bend. The road takes off behind the school and climbs to the meadows. Maybe he tried to drive in and got himself stuck. It happens. Last winter an old couple from someplace back east decided to take a side trip on a ranch road. Storm came up, and two weeks later they found the man dead in a snowbank and his wife frozen solid in the car. You ready to look for that mountain lion?"
"Think that's all we're going to find?" Kerney replied, putting out the small fire.
A grin broke across Jim's face. "This is getting more interesting all the time, isn't it?" He mounted and nodded at the closest foothill. "We'll drop below that hill and pick up the trailhead. Shouldn't be long before we know what the rest of the day will bring."
At the trailhead, it took only a few minutes for Jim to find the radio collar under a juniper tree.
"Cut," he said, picking it up with a stick. "Somebody killed the cat." He wrapped the collar in plastic and tied it to the saddle pommel. "We need to find the carcass." His expression turned sour. "If there is one to find."
Kerney walked parallel to the trail, leading his horse, studying the ground.
"What's up?" Jim asked.
"ATV tracks. And some shoe prints. Give me the old man's oxfords."
Stiles dug a shoe out
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