Hector was nowhere to be seen. Jose decided he must walk a little farther and investigate before returning to the truck. Something wasn't right. c clouds filled the sky and ran like waves heading for a distant shore.
Kerney watched them in the predawn light, waiting for rain that didn't come. For once, the ranchers wouldn't mind the absence of moisture. The high country was lush with abundant grass and wildflowers that told of a wet year and plenty of water. Some of the locals were predicting it would be the best rainy season in fifty years.
Kerney broke camp feeling rested and unruffled.
The afternoon on the trail with a good horse under him and the night alone on the mountain away from civilization had been a wonderful break in his normal routine.
He got to the job site at first light as the last of the thick clouds created a searing red sunrise. To the west a cloudless sky began to deepen into turquoise blue. He found Amador Ortiz tucked into a sleeping bag. Seeing him brought back Kerney's instinctive dislike for the man. He unsaddled the horse, tied it to the string line, and turned back toward Amador, who was sitting up rubbing sleep from his eyes.
'You're here early,' Amador said grouchily, between yawns.
Kerney nodded in agreement and looked around.
The posts were set, the wire strung, the water line buried, and a flatbed truck was parked next to the temporary equipment pen. It carried a large modular outdoor privy. Hitched to the bumper of the truck was a trailer with a forklift. He watched Amador get out of the bag, fire up a camp stove, and put water on for coffee.
'I'm ready to start,' Kerney said.
Ortiz looked at him, yawned again, and shrugged.
'Suit yourself. I need footers dug for each picnic table,' he said sullenly.
'Location?' Kerney asked.
Amador tilted his head in the direction of his truck.
'The plans are on the seat. Three tables go on each side of the water spigot, under the trees, this side of the fence. You can read plans, can't you?'
Sarcasm laced the question.
Kerney nodded briefly in response and turned away to water the chestnut.
He didn't want to start the day in a pissing contest with Ortiz. The chestnut drank deeply before moving off. Surefooted and quick to respond, the horse had pleased him on yesterday's ride.
The softer soil made for faster digging than the day before. By the time Ortiz's crew showed up, Kerney had finished trenches for two tables and sweated away his irritation with Amador, who kept his distance. The crew started cutting steel re bar sledge hammering the short pieces into the trenches and tying off long sections horizontally, in preparation for the concrete pour.
Kerney finished at midmorning. He watched the crew mix and pour concrete into the first trench, trowel it smooth, and set the anchor bolts.
'Anything else you need me for?' he asked Ortiz, who had watched the work proceed from the comfort of his truck.
Amador shook his head.
'You're finished. We'll post the trail signs, take down the equipment pen, and be out of here today.'
Kerney washed up and saddled the chestnut, looking forward to another afternoon in the mountains.
He would ride the trail that looped around Mangas Mountain and eased down the foothills to a place called Upper Cat Springs. As he tightened the cinch, he heard the sound of a vehicle coming fast down the dirt road. A state Game and Fish truck pulling a horse trailer stopped next to the equipment pen. A tall young man jumped out, spotted Kerney, and walked to him.
'Mr. Kerney,' he said, smiling, extending his hand.
'Bet you don't remember me.'
Kerney shook the man's hand. He had a friendly smile and a strong grip.
Kerney guessed him to be in his late twenties.
'Refresh my memory.'
He chuckled.
'I'm Jim Stiles. I took an advanced course in investigation from you a while back, when you were still with the Santa Fe Police Department.
Up at the law enforcement academy in Santa Fe.'
'You do look familiar,' Kerney allowed.
'Did you learn anything from me?'
'Good course, good teacher,' Stiles replied. Almost as tall as Kerney, with long arms and legs, he had white, even teeth below a neatly clipped red mustache that matched his hair. His eyes were light green and friendly. His nose, slightly broad, had a small line of freckles across the ridge.
'Thanks for the compliment,' Kerney said.
'What can I do for you?'
Stiles didn't get a chance to answer. Amador walked up and poked him in the ribs with a finger.
'What are you doing here?' he asked cordially in Spanish.
'Be polite,' Stiles chided back in Spanish.
'Don't make the man feel bad because he can't speak the language.' He nodded in Kerney's direction.
'I need him to ride along with me.' Kerney said nothing. From what he'd heard so far, he spoke Spanish as well as Stiles.
Amador shrugged his shoulders and switched to English.
'What's up?'
Stiles looked at both men and tilted his head toward the high country.
'We've got a mountain lion down somewhere east of Elderman Meadows.
A male three-year-old we trans located two months ago from the San Andreas Mountains.
Since it's on federal land, Mr. Kerney gets to help me find it.' Stiles switched his attention to Kerney.
'Carol Cassidy said to come and take you along. It should help you get oriented to your new patrol route. And you'll see some pretty country to boot.'
'How do you know it's down?' Kerney asked.
'Radio collar,' Stiles explained.
'If the animal doesn't move for six hours, the radio sends out a rapid mortality beep. Our wildlife biologist did a fly over yesterday around dusk. It shouldn't be that difficult to find. I have a pretty good fix on the animal.'
'Maybe he lost the collar,' Amador suggested.
Stiles shook his head.
'No way, Amador. Those collars don't come loose. You got to cut them off.'
Stiles looked at Kerney's horse.
'I'll be ready to ride in a few minutes.'
'I hope you know where you're going, because I sure the hell don't,'
Kerney said.
Stiles laughed, an easy, careless chuckle.
'If I get us lost, my granddaddy will turn over in his grave.
His name was Elderman. The meadow is named after him.' *** They were two miles off the access road to the fire lookout tower on Mangas Mountain, moving down a switchback trail, when Jim Stiles turned sideways in the saddle and looked back at Kerney.
'You don't ride a horse too bad for a city boy,' Stiles said.
'I wasn't always a city boy,' Kerney answered.
'I can tell you've ridden some,' Stiles responded.
'Where do you hail from?'
'A ranch west of Engle,' Kerney replied.
'The place doesn't exist any more.'
'The Jomada. I heard a story about you down there. It had something to do with a Game and Fish employee by the name of Eppi Gutierrez, now deceased.'
'We ran into each other.'
'Did that silly son of a bitch really try to kill you?'
