ShadowShot : L'enfant Guerrier Read online

  The next day he said, “Why don’t we just hangout in camp today? The weather is beautiful and it would be nice to just relax and spend time together in camp.”

  That was fine with me. We really didn’t need any meat.

  Around the campfire that night we talked about what I wanted to do with my life. He wanted to know what kind of work interested me. He was curious if I ever wondered about those forgotten years before my accident.

  I told him that sometimes I did have strange dreams. Any time I would ask Mother and Grandmother about them their responses were always very vague. They seemed secretive about the past and my first eight years’. I didn’t understand why.

  “Jack, the war was a terrible thing. Many people suffered more than you can imagine. It was hard on your mother and grandmother.”

  “Well I would still like to know more about it. I would like to know more about the first eight years of my life too. I don’t understand why you all make it seem so mysterious.”

  “Son I’m sorry. It’s just that it’s painful for them to talk about. They want to put that part of their lives behind them.”

  “What about you Dad? Can you talk about it? Is it painful for you as well?”

  He looked into the fire for a long moment before he said, “No that’s not what’s painful for me. What’s painful for me, is knowing what a hard time it was for them. Jack it’s your mother’s place to talk to you about it.”

  He changed the subject.

  “Thank you for coming up son. I know you had other plans but I’m really glad we’re together. I love you son. You’ve made me a very proud man. Now we’d best get some sleep.”

  “I love you too Dad. I couldn’t have asked for a better father.”

  He said, “Thank you for saying that. It means an awful lot to me.”

  At first light I poked my head out of my sleeping bag. Frank wasn’t up yet so I thought I would just hangout in my bag till late morning. We weren’t really planning to hunt. When the sun started to peek through the trees the horses decided it was definitely time to get up. They let me know with a few whinnies. I crawled out of my bag. Frank was still asleep I decided to make a fire and put the coffee pot on to boil.

  I called out, “Dad coffee’s on.”

  We’d put up tents but instead decided to sleep under the stars. His bag was on the other side of the fire.

  After I got halfway through my first cup of coffee, I said, “Dad aren’t you going to get up?”

  There was no answer, no movement. For a second I was alarmed but then I thought he stuffed his sleeping bag to keep things warm. He was probably up before the first light, walking around checking things out. Then I saw his rifle. I knew he would never go out without his rifle.

  I pulled back the hood of his sleeping bag,

  “Dad. Dad wake up,” But he did not. He looked blue. I put my finger under his throat. No pulse. I shook him. I tried giving him mouth-to-mouth as he had taught me. Nothing. He had died in his sleep.

  I couldn’t believe he was gone. I kept saying, “No, no. Please come back.” He couldn’t. He was gone to where old hunters and old soldiers go.

  I was holding his head in my lap thinking about what could have happened to him. His heart must have given out. As far as I knew he didn’t have any heart condition. How could this just happen so suddenly? I don’t know how long I just sat there until I suddenly realized I was very cold and shaking. The sun had gone away and dark clouds were rolling in. It seemed appropriate. The sun inside of me had left also.

  It was going to snow. I had to get back down the mountain. I stoked the fire up and put on some more coffee, grained and saddled the horses and started breaking camp.

  We had brought two packhorses, one for our supplies and one in case we decided to take meat. I delayed putting my dad on the packhorse until the very last. By then he was stiff. I had tears in my eyes as I was trying to bend my father into a better position to tie him down over the saddle. The packhorse, normally a good pack animal, was really acting up. He didn’t want to accept carrying my father down the mountain. I suppose eventually I could have settled him down. Instead I decided to put my dad on his own horse. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that in the first place. He was a great horse. They had been partners for a long time.

  When I carried Dad up to his horse I said, “Blazer will you carry Dad down the mountain for me please?’

  I let him smell the sleeping bag with my father in it. Blazer nuzzled the bag twice and then me, as if to say he would carry him for the last ride.

  It’s amazing how you can communicate with animals if you only try. I split our gear up between two packhorses, put Blazer behind me, and the balky packhorse on the end. I hoped I wouldn’t have any problems. It had taken us two days to get to this camp.

  We were on a trail that the horses knew, but not that well. There would be some moonlight if the weather held. It was already late morning. I didn’t relish the thought of having to unpack and pack again to camp.

  The sky kept getting darker and I kept getting colder. I put on some more clothes but it didn’t seem to help. I don’t think I was cold from the temperature. I was cold from the inside out. I pulled up to let the horses take a break, got to my thermos and drank some hot coffee. Luckily, none of the horses were shod. Otherwise they would’ve been picking up snowballs, and I would’ve had to stop to pull their shoes.

  Frank was a firm believer in never shoeing horses unless absolutely necessary. What was good enough for the Indians was good enough for us. All our horses had tough hooves and never had any problems. Going downhill gradually was one thing I had in my favor. Had the trail been too steep the horses would have been slipping and sliding almost every step of the way.

  I wasn’t going to make it in the light even to the first nights camp. There was only an hour and a half of light left and fading fast. However, there was a camp spot about an hour ahead with a small open cave and decent shelter for the horses. I had to try for it, as there was no place else on the trail to camp.

  It was almost dark. I took one of the flashlights and stuck it in my coat. I would lead Blazer holding it. Blazer was the head honcho, the most surefooted, and the best of the bunch. I was not about to take a chance losing my father. I walked in front holding the flashlight out ahead of us, being very careful not to let the horses be blinded by the light. It was snowing more. I really couldn’t see very well even with the flashlight. We were all doing fine except for me. I was cold. I was shaking. I was numb on the inside. I had lost my father.

  I hoped I was still on the trail. Going downhill at one point, Blazer just stopped, I couldn’t make him go. When I came up to him he nuzzled me again and started walking off in a different direction. I knew he was telling me I was going the wrong way. He was leading me on the right path. At least I hoped so. A little moon came out from behind the clouds. I attached a rope to one of Blazer’s reins and ran it through the stirrup. I turned off the flashlight, took my lead rope in one hand and grabbed his tail with the other. I let him lead.

  What a great horse Blazer was. I tied up the horses and took my dad off Blazer. I wanted him in the cave with me. Thinking about it though, I remember reading something in a in a western novel about cowboys packing out their dead friend. They put him over a log at night so he would fit on the saddle come morning. I lit the lantern and unloaded most of our equipment from the packhorses. We had carried flakes of hay and a special grain mix of Frank’s for the horses. I loosened the cinches, not planning to unsaddle them. Bunching them up I threw a tarp over each of the saddles. It would help to keep the horses dry and warm. Then I fed them.

  The little cave was big enough to keep the snow off me, and our equipment. I had a fire at the mouth of the cave. On the way up when we came to this place, Frank had dismounted to take a short break. Always considerate, he threw dry wood in the cave in case the next traveler should need it. His son was the next traveler. I wondered if he had some strange premonition.

>   When morning came it was all I could do to drag myself out of my sleeping bag. I woke up several times in the night even though I was exhausted. When I woke up in the morning it took me a moment before I remembered where I was and what had happened. I made a fire, had a few cups of coffee and some food, filled the thermos and fed the horses the last of the hay with a hearty portion of grain. It must’ve snowed all night leaving a foot and a half on the ground.

  The going was slow. It took another three hours before I reached our original camp. After taking a short break it was still snowing, now with about 2 feet on the ground. I resolved to keep going. Storms like this could dump up to 4 feet. I wondered if there were other hunters out here. We hadn’t seen anyone but that didn’t mean anything. The horses didn’t like this weather anymore than I did, and even though the going was rough they were motivated to get home. Every now and then I would walk with the horses just to warm-up. Walking in the deep snow would get more circulation going and warm my feet.

  I had good boots but they were pretty wet. I knew what I had to do. I took a break and borrowed my father’s boots. I knew he wouldn’t mind. I wasn’t about to try and undo the sleeping bag with him in it. I cut a hole in the bottom just big enough to reach in and take his boots off. Then I laced the hole with a leather thong. Luckily our shoe size was the same and his boots were completely dry. I remembered seeing movies with soldiers taking off the boots of the fallen to see if they would fit. I thought well a son always wants to step into his father’s shoes. I even laughed at this thought. Maybe I was starting to get a little loony. That really helped my feet. By 3:30 the snow was about 2 1/2 feet deep. Blazer knew the way down but I had to rotate the horses to help break the trail. That meant when it was the packhorses turn I had to lead them so it was I that was breaking through the deep snow.

  Besides being emotionally and physically exhausted, I started feeling that achy feeling you get when the flu is coming. By the time we took our next break I had developed a headache. I could feel my head was hot, just what I needed, a fever. I couldn’t believe I was breaking down. I’d been in snowstorms before. I’d been cold before. I’d walked through snowdrifts before. But I had never had to deal with anything like packing my father out, which made each step harder than the next to take. Running out of steam, I didn’t think I would be able to put up camp and get going again in the morning. Hypothermia was a distinct possibility as I starting to lose my bearings.

  I felt I was going the right way, but couldn’t figure out how much further we had to go. There was only one thing left for me to do. I unhooked the packhorses from each other and asked them just to follow. I put Blazer in the front and told him it was up to him to get us back it has to be you to get us back. I told my horse to follow Blazer and tied my belt to the horn, even though it could be very dangerous. Blazer turned his head around to see if I was ready and we took off.

  Our only neighbor between our home was a ranch where the trail started. It was 5 miles further on to our ranch. I knew if I could just get to the neighbor’s, they would help me. With the drop in elevation it was getting a little warmer with less snow. Wrapped in my sleeping bag with a poncho over it to keep it dry, I dozed off several times. I think it saved my life but even more so was the horses. I couldn’t have asked more from any of them especially Blazer and my horse.

  I woke up to dogs barking. Blazer’s good sense had led us right down to the neighbor’s house right up to the front door. He had saved my life. Lights were turning on, the door swung open and there was the old man with his wife. The last thing I heard was an explanation of, “My God,” and I passed out again.

  I didn’t come to again until morning. The first thing I saw was my mom and grandma looking down at me.

  She said, “Oh Jack your 0K. Thank God.”

  “I’m sorry Mom. I couldn’t help Dad. There was nothing I could do. He died in his sleep. It must’ve been a heart attack.”

  They said it was about nine o’clock when we pulled up to the neighbor’s door. His ranch hand unloaded Frank and me and put the horses in their barn. He called my mom and the hospital. The ambulance picked up Mother and Grandmother on the way.

  I had some frostbite my toes but the doctor didn’t think I would lose them.

  I was, however, mentally and physically drained with a bad case of the flu. I hadn’t gone hypothermic which was a miracle because it surely would’ve been the end of me. The doctor kept telling me what a tough kid I was. I didn’t feel very tough. I was heart broken at losing Frank.

  My mother and grandmother always had the gift of a sixth sense. They always hoped I would have that gift. I believe that I do, but we all missed Frank’s impending death. I believe that Frank knew, but thought he had enough time to take one last trip with me and return home. He would not deliberately put that burden on me alone. Wherever he was, I believe he was watching me and was full of pride that I had gotten both of us back home.

  It was hard on my mom to lose Frank. I know she really loved him, as did my grandmother. I guess if a kid has to lose his father, that last ride together was as good as it could get. I should be grateful.

  Remembering our last conversation Frank made it sound like there were things I should know. The mystery of my early childhood just deepened.

  20

  A NEW CHAPTER IN MY LIFE

  I was off to a new chapter in my life. I was well heeled. In addition to the money that I’d saved, the ranch had sold. I knew how to live on next to nothing if I wanted to. What I decided to do was to get back to the U.S. I was sure that I had left a cold trail not only for the contract but also for George. I thought I would buy a small piece of property with a cabin in the North of the Western states, and a similar one in the Southwest. I’d be nomadic. I was finished with apartment buildings where people could be standing out- side your door before you even knew it. I wanted to be in a place where if you heard a vehicle coming, you knew they were coming to see you. I would get good horses and a vicious looking dog or two, a strong four-wheel-drive pickup and horse trailer. I’d look for something unpretentious but comfortable, most important with a defendable position. I would pay cash to the owner. No paper trail.

  I had said goodbye to George in a way that meant I would not be checking in any more, I could tell he was disappointed but he was cool about it.

  After three months I went back to the states, bought a truck and two puppies, and started my quest to find a home.

  It took six months before I could actually find and buy both places that I wanted. It was all right. I was in no rush. I had my work cut out for me fixing them both up the way I wanted. I was enjoying this. I had the money to buy the things I needed to work on both places. My adventures with George were behind me.

  It’s interesting how time and your objectives in life seem to slip away. Not that I’m complaining. Life’s been good for me. Before I got back to the States and bought my little hideaways, I was bent on solving the mystery of who my father was and the first eight years of my life. I missed Europe and especially France and Paris. But it wasn’t wise for me to go back there, which would’ve been the place to start looking for answers. Eventually, the quest got put on the back burner. It gradually seemed to not matter so much anymore. I began to accept the possibility of never knowing. I had become a part-time mountain man and desert rat with escapes to an ocean or a sea somewhere. I loved being on or near the water and tried at least once a year to go somewhere that I could afford, which always meant a Third World country. I had no interest in the Club Med type travel so it worked out well for me. I lived a pretty simplistic lifestyle with the money I started with. Plus buying and selling a few properties kept me afloat financially. I no longer cared to hunt, if I didn’t have to. I just didn’t want to kill anything again. I was still a weapons expert, but in the years since leaving Paris, I had only pointed a gun at a person one time.

  21

  RESCUE IN AUSTRALIA

  1974

  Angeline had taken up with
an Australian gangster in Sydney. He was relatively small time, but on his way up. Apparently their affair had been pleasant for the first couple of years. Then he became very possessive and physically and mentally abusive. When she couldn’t stand anymore, she tried to get away and got a beating for her effort. He informed her that if she ever tried to take off again he would kill her. She was able to call George and asked for help to get away. George went through the usual channels with the Company but because she was no longer working for them he came to a dead end. They were not about to get involved. George told her there were only two things he could do to help. He could send her some of his own money or he could give her a way to contact me.

  She called me. Without hesitating I said I would help her. I’m not really sure why I said I would. I hadn’t heard from her since she left me my goodbye letter. I understood the reasons for her leaving. Even so, there was still a soft spot in my heart for her. Maybe it was just the white knight and damsel in distress thing. Hell, the real reason was she was still the only woman that I have ever fallen in love with.

  I got on a plane to Sydney, used a false passport and identification, rented a vehicle, found the local black market and armed myself, then started to check out everything I could find out about her boyfriend. I got a message to her through the system we had set up and let her know I was here, and to hang tight till I made a plan.

  The gangster kept a pretty tight rein on her and always had one of his men with her or nearby. I hoped that gunplay wouldn’t be necessary.

  I wasn’t going to throw myself into the lion’s den by walking in guns blazing. The break came when she let me know that almost without fail on Saturdays, they would fly to a beach resort town up the coast from Sydney. He owned a home on the beach, and there was an open-air market where she would always go shopping. He never wanted to accompany her to the market but would always send one of his men with her.