'Let's get him warmed up.'
Stiles put away the radio and joined Kerney.
Together they massaged the old man until his trembling started to subside.
'He's going to make it,' Stiles predicted.
Kerney wasn't so sure; there was a nasty bruise on the man's temple, and his eyes were unfocused.
The rescue helicopter made good time, and Stiles used the radio to guide it in. It landed as close to the mouth of the canyon as it could. Two men carrying 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.
'Cariotta,' the old man whispered.
Kerney leaned closer.
'Who is Cariotta? 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.'
'Could you make anything out?'
'He called me Hector and said Cariotta was dead.'
'So he speaks English,' Jim ventured.
'No.'
'Did he use the word muerto for dead?'
'That's what I heard,' Kerney answered.
'Cariotta, who could that be?' 'His esposa, he said.'
'Exposa, 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 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 of his saddlebag and tossed it to Kerney. The prints matched perfectly.
'Looks like we found his trail,' Kerney said.
'But which came first? The old man or the ATV? The tire tracks match the ones I saw at a black bear kill.'
'You're sure?'
'Same wear on the rear tires. Same tread pattern.' Kerney looked up the trail. It disappeared into a shadowy climax forest of ponderosa pines, bare of undergrowth, entrenched in the rich soil. The land rolled up and up, lofty trees masking deep ravines.
He looked back to find Stiles leaning out of the saddle studying the ATV tracks.
'You're not the only one who has seen these,' Jim said.
'I took plaster casts of the same treads at a bighorn sheep kill up in the Tularosas.'
'You're positive?'
'Yep. I had the state crime lab analyze the casts.
Two different brands of tires, front and back, with the same wear on the rear wheels. Looks like we got ourselves a serious poacher here.'
Jim pulled a camera out of his saddlebag and gave it to Kerney. He shot some pictures while Stiles rode his horse slowly up the trail. He finished and climbed into the saddle just as Stiles called back at him.
'Come on. I want to show you Grandfather Eldennan's meadow. It's a damn pretty sight. And who knows what else might turn up?'
Kerney got on his horse and followed Stiles toward the climax forest.
'You like this stuff, don't you?' he called out.
Stiles turned and nodded his head vigorously.
'Hell yes, I like it.' he called back.
'Who doesn't like a good mystery?'
The meadow looked like an outstretched hand with elongated fingers cutting into the forest at the base of the mountain. On the peak, the Mangas fire lookout station surveyed hundreds of square miles of national forest.
