Unknown

Chapter 12

Wednesday the telephone rang and I picked it up. A nervous woman was on the other end.

“I’m looking for Cassidy Michaels,” she said.

“You’ve found her,” I replied.

“Her?”

“Yeah, her.”

“I’m looking for a tracker.”

“You’ve found her, too. What can I do for you?”

“I’d like to hire you to find something for me.”

“I don’t look for things. Things don’t leave tracks and things that do leave tracks usually have a conflict behind them somehow.”

She paused, unsure how to proceed.

“This thing leaves tracks and there’s no conflict attached to him.”

“I don’t find people for money. I find people who need finding. I don’t track down philandering husbands. Or disobedient children. I find people who might be in physical danger from their circumstances.”

“This isn’t a person, it’s a dog. A very valuable and rare dog. It shouldn’t even be outside for long periods of time.”

“Why? A dog is an animal. It should be acclimated to the outside world.”

“My daughter was just playing with him outside for a few minutes and a noisy trash truck scared him. He panicked and ran away. I need this dog back as soon as possible.”

“What kind of an environment was it in when it got away?”

“Just out in the yard.”

“A residential yard? Grass? Dirt? Cement? There’s no sense in looking for tracks unless the environment is conductive to tracking.”

“Please, please, just come take a look. I’ll make it worth your time.”

“Okay. I have a dog, too. I guess I can see how you feel. Give me your address and I’ll be out there as soon as I can.”

At least the lady knew good tracking conditions when she called me. The house was on the outskirts of town. Four small dogs answered the door followed by a very rotund woman in a pink housecoat.

“Good morning,” I greeted her. “I’m Cassidy Michaels. I’m here to see about tracking your dog.”

“Oh thank you! Thank you for coming! I’m Vivian.”

“It’s good to meet you. I’m curious. How in the world did know to call me?”

“My daughter. She said a tracker had spoken at her school about safety in the woods. She remembered your name. I couldn’t find you in the phone book but she said you had on a police uniform when you spoke at the school so I tried calling the police station. When they heard the name Michaels they put me through to a man. He questioned me thoroughly before giving me your number. He mumbled something about, maybe this’ll keep her out of trouble for a day before he gave me your number.”

It didn’t sound like Rusty but I couldn’t imagine whom they would put the call through to except Rusty.

“Okay, first of all I need a description of the dog. How big it is, what color, long hair, short hair.”

She began looking around on the floor.

“Lulu! Lulu, come!” she called.

The four little dogs came running back. She picked up one of them, the ugliest little dog I ever saw. It was nearly hairless, gray, about the size of a Chihuahua. I guess I couldn’t judge, though, there was a dog for everybody.

“He looks like this,” she said. “Except he’s red.”

“Will I be able to catch him?”

“Oh, I don’t know, it depends on how frightened he is.”

“How long has he been missing?”

“Oh, for hours! You just have to find him! He shouldn’t be out. He’ll burn to a crisp!”

“He’s only been gone for hours and you’re already calling out a tracker?”

Sorry, but I just couldn’t see the need for haste.

“He could be miles away! He could be coyote food!”

“Okay, okay, what have you done to try and get him back?”

“I’ve been calling and calling.”

“Did you try a treat? Food usually brings dogs running.”

“Look at my dogs, do they look like they get treats?”

I had to admit her dogs were in great shape. Okay, so her missing dog wasn’t used to treats.

“I think an exception to the rule might help in this case. I need a way to catch him if I find him. I think I should make a quick trip to the station for a tool and then I’ll see what I can do.”

“A tool? What kind of a tool will help you catch a dog?”

“It’s a loop on the end of a pole. Dogcatchers use them. It won’t hurt him. I think I can get close enough to use the pole but if he doesn’t want to be caught I can’t catch him without it. I’ll be back in half an hour.”

I rushed off to the station, borrowed the pole from Carla and, took off for my new assignment.

I really needed a new Jeep. I was in a rental car at the moment and I didn’t like it. I wasn’t used to cars. They felt so low. I wanted another Jeep Wrangler but Rusty had threatened over and over to get me a sports car, something I couldn’t get in as much trouble with. I was afraid if he bought a sports car I’d end up getting that stuck in the boondocks instead of a Jeep that was meant to be used that way. Nope, a sports car just wouldn’t do. I needed wheels that would take me places, remote places.

I pulled into Vivian’s dirt lot and got out. I took out the pole and my pack. I only needed the pack to carry water but it had other tracking tools in it as well.

“Hold out your hand.” I instructed.

I put the noose over Vivian’s hand and pulled it snuggly around her wrist, then gave it a couple of tugs.

“See? That’s as much as it will hurt the dog. I’ll only use it until I can get a leash on him. Now, what’s his name and where did you lose him?”

“His name is Zulu. Zulu the Xolo. It’s short for Xoloitzcuintli. And he was just right here,” she said as she led the way to the back yard.

The tracking was good but the tracks of the dog were light and small. It would be like tracking a rabbit. I turned to Vivian.

“No promises, I’ll put two days into this and then I have something else I have to do on Friday. If my search commander calls, people take precedence over dogs. Did you find a treat that will tempt him?”

She handed me a sandwich bag twisted around a gray lump.

“What is it?”

“Liver. I use it at dog shows to get the dogs to look perky.”

“These are Zulu’s tracks?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I’ll see what I can do.”

The first thing I noticed was that the dog had been very frightened and could run very fast. He scattered sand as he laid tracks to get away from the loud noise. I heard a squeaky toy behind me and Vivian was running after me.

“Here, try this too,” she huffed and puffed. “He loves a game of fetch with a squeaky toy.”

“Thanks.”

I took the toy and stuck it in my pocket. Dogs. I never expected to be out searching for a dog. Chase would think I was nuts looking for a dog that had only been gone for a few hours, but I guess I didn’t have anything better to do. At least I wasn’t thinking about Agnes. That would just tempt me to try something and I had promised Rusty I’d stay away from that situation, except for Friday.

When the tracking got tough I brought out the squeaky toy and squeaked it as I searched. After the dog had bolted, and had some distance between him and the noisy truck, he’d calmed down and did what any curious dog would do. He started investigating things. He sniffed bushes. He chased rabbits. He wandered. A small dog can wander quite a distance in a few hours.

What am I doing out here? I thought. By the time I catch up to this dog he’s going to be home watching Tom and Jerry on TV and ready for a game of fetch. Still, it was good tracking practice. If I wasn’t looking for a tame dog I might have been tracking coyotes, anyway.

I followed the light tracks as they wandered through the desert. The sun beat down on me. The heat felt more intense than it should have. I walked, water bottle in one hand, dog catching pole in the other. I saw some interesting things out there in the desert. I saw centipede, rabbit and coyote tracks. Piles of bleached bones told me that perhaps Vivian was right to worry about coyotes.

I followed Zulu until he investigated an old homestead out in the desert. The only things left of it were a rough wooden floor and a stone chimney protruding up into the bright, Cobalt blue, desert sky, a sundial in the middle of nowhere. I looked at the shadow. Gosh it must be four in the afternoon, I thought, surprised.

Zulu’s tracks went right up to the wooden floor and then jumped back. There was a jumble of tracks that looked like he’d stood there and barked at something. He had dug at a dark hole beneath the floor and jumped back several times. I looked for more tracks but this was all there was to see. Had a hawk got him? I didn’t see the usual pattern of a hawk attack. There is usually a sharp scrambling motion and the prints of feathers sweeping the sand before the hawk flies away with its prey. No, a hawk hadn’t gotten Zulu.

There was a whimpering under the floor. Oh hell. I wasn’t going in there. It was a rattlesnake den if ever I saw one.

“Zulu! Zulu, come!” I called.

A sharp bark, but no dog. I walked around on the old planks trying to make a racket and scare him out. I jumped. I pounded. He wouldn’t come out. I tried prying up some of the boards but they had stood the test of time and wouldn’t budge. I went back to the hole and stuck the noose in. I felt around. When the noose seemed to catch on something I wiggled it to see if there was any fight on the end of it. When I felt resistance I pulled the noose out. First I snagged a chunk of wood. Why I thought a hunk of wood had moved I don’t know. I stuck the noose back in. The floor area was longer than the pole so I might not be able to reach the dog. The next thing I pulled out fought me but I could tell it wasn’t a small dog. I eased back to the end of the pole and kept a firm grip as I backed away. By the time I dragged it free of the hole I was pretty sure it was a snake but I didn’t know what part of it I had grabbed. If it was large and I had the tail end I could be in trouble. It was mad and it could be longer than the pole. I thought of just leaving it down there but I’d just be in the same predicament if I tried again so I pulled out the thrashing mad rattlesnake and dragged it a long way from the hole. It lunged at my feet and my moccasins felt mighty thin with those beady eyes focused on them.

Right about then my cell phone rang. I wasn’t going to answer it but something told me it might be important.

“Cassidy?”

“Chase, you have got the worse timing of anybody I know!”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m wrestling a rattlesnake. Hold on, I need to let it go.”

I dragged hard on the pole, released the noose and ran in the opposite direction.

“Will it come after me?” I asked.

“What kind is it?”

“Looks like a diamondback.”

“Maybe.”

“Will it go back where I got it from?”

“Where’d you get it from?”

“Under a floor out in the middle of the desert. I’m looking for a little dog and I can hear him under the floor so I fished around under there for him and pulled out a rattlesnake instead.”

“Damn it, Cassidy, you know better than that. A dog is not worth it.”

“I have a pole. It’s not like last time when I grabbed the snake with my hand.” I looked in the hole but it was dark. “Look, I’d love to chat but I need to get this dog out and head for home. It’s going to take some work.”

“The dog doesn’t stand a chance if it was snake bit.”

“You have a cat that was snake bit. He’s ornery, but he lived.”

“You got it backwards. He lived because he’s ornery. How ornery is the dog?”

“Not very.”

“Then go home.”

“No can do. I promised the owner I’d try. I told her I’d put two days into this search if I had to, so I’m stuck out here. I wish I had a flashlight.”

“Use the screen from the phone. It ought to shed a little light in there.”

“Okay, hold on. Tell me if you see anything.”

“Very funny.”

I shined the phone around in the hole. I was met with a rattle. I scrambled back so fast I nearly lost the phone in the hole.

“Cassidy?”

“There’s another one in there,” I said.

“So I heard.”

“Look, I’ve got to go. I’ll never get the dog out if I can’t use both my hands. Are you still in town?”

“Yeah.”

“Then distract Rusty until I get there.”

“Do you need some help?”

“Not unless you can magic in a backhoe. I’ve always wanted to try one and this would be a good chance. Seriously, it would take you hours to get out here. I’ll be fine. I’ll call when I’m through.”

I fished around in the hole until I found the other rattler. This time I had grabbed the head so it wasn’t nearly as dangerous. I took it out to the desert and released it, running away like I had the first time, hoping I didn’t run into the first snake out there.

Surely there weren’t three in there, I thought, peering in.

“Zulu! Zulu come!” I squeaked the toy and acted excited to play. “Come boy, get the toy!” Squeak, squeak. “Get the toy, Zulu!” Squeak, squeak, squeak!

I tried waving the chunk of liver around in front of the hole and blowing the smell inside.

“You want a treat? A cookie? You want a cookie?”

A little whimpering answered me but no small dog emerged.

“A car ride? You want to go for a car ride? Let’s go!” I talked and cajoled but he wouldn’t come out. I began to think he was snake bit.

I tried the pole again but didn’t find anything. That didn’t mean there were no snakes in there. It meant there were no snakes with a body part raised enough to get the loop around it. I knew snakes could be very flat indeed. I listened around under the floor and pinpointed where Zulu was hiding. I thought he was near the back wall of the building so I used the end of the pole to break up the ground and dug down under the floor at the back. I was glad I had plenty of digging experience compliments of the Marines. I had the motion down pat for breaking up soil. I cleared away enough dirt so I could see down under the floor. I saw…boxes, several boxes, some empty and some closed. An empty box moved. Hmm. The box whimpered. No wonder he hadn’t come out! He was stuck in an overturned box! I nudged the box over and out shot a panic stricken, little wrinkled dog. I dove for him as he shot out of the hole, but he was too fast.

“Zulu! Come!” I commanded in a friendly voice. I offered the liver again. He sniffed the air. “Come on,” I said. “I’m not going to hurt you. Come here. Good boy! Come to Cassidy.”

I talked to him and crept closer until I was able to sneak the noose down around his head. I pulled the loop snug and he wriggled and squirmed. I pulled him in, picked him up, and clipped a leash around his neck. He seemed dehydrated and scared but I couldn’t see any signs of him being bitten. He probably ended up in the box jumping away from the rattlesnake. The box had protected him from snake and sun and had probably saved his life.

“We need to rename you Lucky!” I told him.

I held him as I looked around in the hole. I still wasn’t willing to venture in there, but I was curious what was in the boxes. How did they get down there? There had to be a way to get to the boxes from above so I examined the floor carefully. I tried pulling up boards over the spot where I knew the boxes lay. The sun was near the horizon when, at last I got a board to move. When it moved it moved easily and I knew I was onto something. I pulled two boards out excitedly and put Zulu down so I could use my hands better. I looped his leash around my wrist so he couldn’t get away and reached into the hole in the floor. The boxes were old. They were made of wood or metal. I opened one and inside I found coins. I pulled a few out and read the dates: 1923, 1925. I pocketed a few of them and closed the box. I opened another that contained personal belongings, a pocket watch, a journal. I opened the journal and read the dates. Again, the dates were in the 1920’s. I put the journal in my pack, closed up the box and replaced the floorboards. I needed to get this pup home.

I carried Zulu because it was easier than trying to walk him. He would walk on the leash but he was interested in everything and I had to coax him along. I wanted to get home before the guys ate dinner without me, so I picked up the dog and set out at a fast walk. I arrived at Vivian’s house as they were cleaning up after dinner. I rang the doorbell and waited, dog in one hand, pole in the other.

“Oh!” she squealed excitedly. “You found him! I can’t believe you found him! Ashley look! Zulu’s home!”

A little girl ran in and gathered Zulu into her arms.

“Well,” I said. “I need to get going. I still have a husband to cook for. I’m glad I was able to find your dog. He was trapped and he couldn’t have come home on his own so you’re lucky you called me.”

“Wait! I promised to pay you. It’s well worth my while to pay you. This little guy is a champion stud dog. He’s worth a lot to me. How much will you accept?”

“Vivian, really, you don’t need to. If you pay me I’ll just donate it to the search and rescue program, anyway.”

“Okay, then you do that,” she said as she handed me a check. I didn’t look at the amount, just pocketed it and extended my thanks, then practically ran for the car.

I called Chase back like I promised.

“Hi. Mission accomplished?” he asked.

“And then some,” I answered. “Are you still in town? Can you stay until tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I suppose. Why?”

“I’ll show you when I catch up with you. Are you with Rusty?”

“Yeah, we’re at Trujillo’s.”

“Have you ordered yet?”

“No, we just got here.”

“Get a drink and then go someplace where we won’t be met by people from the station.”

“Cassidy, what are you up to now?”

“I’ll show you when I get there. I’m on my way back to town now.”

He talked to Rusty for a bit and then said, “Okay, meet us at Si Señor. We felt like Mexican food tonight.”

“Okay.”

The guys looked at me curiously when I slid into their booth excitedly.

“Cassidy, you’re scary when you look like that. What have you been up to?” Rusty asked.

“You didn’t tell him?” I asked Chase.

“I thought he knew and I thought you didn’t want him to know about the snakes.”

“I’ve been tracking down a little dog. He ran off into the desert and I found him under the foundation of a ruined house. After I pulled two rattlesnakes out from under the floor I kind of decided I had to find another way in. When I found the dog he was in a box. I think he had bolted to get away from the snakes and the box fell on top of him. Anyway, I dug a new spot and got the dog out but then I looked around for how the boxes got down there. There were loose floorboards…and look what was in the two I opened.”

I dropped the coins into Chase’s hand and handed the journal to Rusty. Chase squinted and turned the coins this way and that trying to make out the dates.

“I couldn’t bring it all out. The box with the journal had other things in it, too. A pocket watch. A hairbrush and mirror, just personal things. The box with the coins had lots of coins so I just brought a sampling. Judging by the dates, these things have been down there a long time. I couldn’t carry it out so I thought you’d like to go back tomorrow and dig for buried treasure. Even if it isn’t ours, it ought to be interesting.”

“Can’t you do anything halfway?” Chase asked. “You track a dog, something I wouldn’t have even bothered doing in the first place, and you end up wrestling rattlesnakes and finding a stash of money and personal affects.”

“If someone asks you to track their dog you might consider it,” I advised. “It might pay off. I told Vivian I didn’t want to be paid, that I’d just give the money to the search and rescue organization, but she paid me anyway.” I tossed the still-folded check onto the table. Chase opened it up.

“What kind of a dog was it?” he asked. “Made out of gold?”

“It was the ugliest dog I’ve ever seen. I’m glad he didn’t get left under that house, though. It would have been a long, slow death. I suppose, after our curiosity is satisfied, we’ll have to track down the land owner and inform him of his good fortune.”

“I suppose so,” Rusty admitted.

“I suppose we really should inform him before we go poking around in it,” I said.

“Can’t,” Chase said, justifying our actions. “We have to go out there and get a GPS reading so we know exactly where it is and who owns it.”

“I knew you’d be curious. There’s lots more boxes down there than the two I looked in. Just remember the snakes when we go back out. They were big ones.”

“Cassidy,” Rusty said closing the journal. “This is information you don’t want to have your hands on.”

“Why? I mean, I don’t really want to read someone’s personal journal to be nosey. It just seems interesting historically. Like finding the Diary of Anne Frank or something.”

“Exactly why you don’t want to know what’s in this book. It could be right, historically. Of all the things to grab out of that box, why did you have to pick this?” he said holding up the tattered book.

“It just seemed more interesting than a hairbrush or a pocket watch.”

He picked at his food and seemed deep in thought for the whole meal. Chase knew not to press for information in the restaurant. When we got home we both converged on Rusty.

“You’ve been awfully quiet since you opened that journal. It can’t be that bad. What did it say?” I asked.

“I wish I knew where the loyalties lay in this town. I don’t even know where to go with it. This could turn the whole city government inside out.”

Chase and I looked at each other.

“Look, Rusty, it happened in the 1920’s. Today is what it is no matter what happened back then.”

“Just forget you saw this book,” he said. “What else is at that site?”

“I don’t know. I had a squirmy dog to deal with. I only opened two boxes and then figured we’d come back later.”

He ran his fingers through his hair.

“Okay, we’ll go back tomorrow. Can we get there without being seen?”

“No. It’s wide open desert. I bet if we park at the road we’ll still be able to see the truck a mile away.”

“Damn.”

“We could drive the Bug out there,” Chase said. “It blends in pretty good in the desert and would hide us from view.”

Dawn was still creeping up on us as we headed across the desert. It wasn’t far. We had hoped to be out there about the same time that we had light to see by. It was cold. The desert is always cold in the morning. I showed Rusty and Chase the hole the dog had gone through. There was another rattlesnake in the hole. I fished it out with the noose and dragged it away. The guys just shook their heads at me. This was getting to be old hat for me. Unsnake the area, then go in cautiously.

“There could be others but at least we got the obvious one,” I said swinging the pole around in the hole.

“Yeah, it’s the sneaky ones you really have to watch for,” Chase said.

I shined a light down into the hole, then shined it into the hole the dog had come out of. So far so good. I went to the loose floorboards and lifted the two out that I knew about. The guys peered in. I reached for the box that I had found the journal in and Rusty handed me rubber gloves. I don’t like gloves but I could see his point.

“My finger prints are already on it,” I told him.

Without moving the boxes we carefully removed the contents. Rusty flipped the pocket watch open. It was long dead but started right up when we wound it a little. We brought out the brush and mirror, a wallet, some papers, an old pistol. An envelope containing photographs. A couple of the pictures were printed on tin. There were boxes of record books and one with handmade maps. With each piece of information Rusty got more and more tense. He sat reading while Chase and I were more interested in the old household items, the odd coins and bills. The box of coins didn’t have just coins. It was more like someone hid their life savings down there. It was coins and bills, IOUs, and a few checks. Many of the boxes that were made of wood had water damage to the contents. Pages of books were glued together and brittle but important papers had been stored in metal boxes. When we looked further we found dishes and silverware, candleholders. It almost appeared that the residents had packed all their small valuables and hid them, anticipating having to run, only hoping they would be able to come back for them.

“I say we put it all back and pretend we never saw it,” Rusty said.

“Can we?” I asked.

“Just watch.”

“What about the real owners?”

“It’s very debatable who the real owners are. The landowners didn’t get this land by legal means. We don’t know who the real owners should be. Too many people would like to be the real owners. I don’t want to open up this can of worms.”

“The real owners…”

“Are dealing with the present just fine,” he interrupted.

I looked to Chase. He just shrugged. I wasn’t determined to bring all this out in the open so I relented. I stood, a yellowed map in my hand.

Off in the distance a man straddled a dirt bike, binoculars in hand, watching us.

“Rusty? There’s a bullet in a box,” I said.