Read Online Righteous04 - The Blessed and the Damned by Michael Wallace - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michael Wallace
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didn’t see that someone had shut the gates in front of the cattle guard. The truck wasnew then. I was only nineteen. Father called me a blundering idiot and threatened to tear up my driver’s license.”
“Still doesn’t mean it belongs to Abraham,” Miriam said. “Old truck like this, he probably sold it.”
He cupped his hands to the side window and looked into the cab. “That looks like a pair of my father’s work gloves, shoved behind the cup holder. And a John Deere hat between the seat and the door—I think that’s his, too.”
Jacob tried the door, thinking to check the registration, but it was locked. He glanced at David and Miriam, who both wore frowns.
They’d spent the morning wandering the southern perimeter of the ranges, shunning any approach that looked like it saw regular traffic. They tried a series of meandering ranch roads until they found one that led directly toward the canyons that opened like dark gashes in the high stretches of the Colorado Plateau. It took almost an hour for the Land Rover to inch the four or five miles to the end of the road.
Red rock and sand covered the approach, and as they gained elevation, the sagebrush and prickly pear cactus began to share the terrain with juniper trees, their trunks like braided rope and their crowns a mass of twisted, half-dead branches. They stopped the car when they saw the Toyota 4x4, parked where a dry wash cut the road in two. Upon climbing out, Jacob had scanned the canyons, looking for a likely way in, and so it had taken him a moment to notice, with a shock, that he recognized the truck.
He squatted and ran his hand around one of the tires, looked back at the tracks faintly visible in the hard-packed, sandy soil, andthen asked Miriam, “How long has this been here? What’s your best guess?”
She walked along the tracks, feeling them with her hand. “Not long. Maybe this morning, but no more than a day or two.” She straightened. “It’s a good sign.”
“It’s a terrible sign,” Jacob said. “What’s my father doing up here?”
“Even if he still owns the truck, it might not be him,” she said. “Could be one of your brothers, or even one of his wives. Someone working for Taylor Junior who needed four-wheel drive to get close enough to hike in.”
“So a traitor. Even worse.”
“But if you’re sure this is his truck, then we’re in the right place. It’s no coincidence, that’s for sure.”
“Look, there’s some kind of a trail here,” David said.
Shoe and boot prints marked the sand in a path toward the cliffs. There was no official trailhead or cairns of stone to mark the trail as Jacob would have expected had they belonged to backpackers setting off into the wilderness area.
“Looks like we’ve got our trail,” Jacob said.
It took some time to make sure water, sleeping bags, and cook gear had been secured to the backpack frames, to slather on sunblock, and finally to consult compasses and maps, but soon they were off. Jacob adjusted his hat against the baking sun. Felt like it was already into the nineties, and it would only grow hotter. A trickle of sweat worked its way down his side, then rolled in drops down his temples and finally soaked his chest and back.
Ant mounds punctuated the desert floor, surrounded by bare patches, denuded of every plant or twig. Just outside one colony,a horned lizard sat in the shade of sagebrush, lapping up the ants that came too close. It lay motionless as the hikers approached, camouflaged like a stone against the sand, and if Jacob hadn’t seen that quick movement for ants, he might have missed it.
“You okay?” Miriam asked David when he started to flag thirty or forty minutes later. She’d shed her prairie dress for jeans, hiking boots, and a long-sleeved shirt. She wore a scarf over her head.
“I’m fine,” he grunted.
“How is your headache? Need some aspirin?”
“I’ll be okay.”
Nevertheless, he fell farther and farther behind until
“Still doesn’t mean it belongs to Abraham,” Miriam said. “Old truck like this, he probably sold it.”
He cupped his hands to the side window and looked into the cab. “That looks like a pair of my father’s work gloves, shoved behind the cup holder. And a John Deere hat between the seat and the door—I think that’s his, too.”
Jacob tried the door, thinking to check the registration, but it was locked. He glanced at David and Miriam, who both wore frowns.
They’d spent the morning wandering the southern perimeter of the ranges, shunning any approach that looked like it saw regular traffic. They tried a series of meandering ranch roads until they found one that led directly toward the canyons that opened like dark gashes in the high stretches of the Colorado Plateau. It took almost an hour for the Land Rover to inch the four or five miles to the end of the road.
Red rock and sand covered the approach, and as they gained elevation, the sagebrush and prickly pear cactus began to share the terrain with juniper trees, their trunks like braided rope and their crowns a mass of twisted, half-dead branches. They stopped the car when they saw the Toyota 4x4, parked where a dry wash cut the road in two. Upon climbing out, Jacob had scanned the canyons, looking for a likely way in, and so it had taken him a moment to notice, with a shock, that he recognized the truck.
He squatted and ran his hand around one of the tires, looked back at the tracks faintly visible in the hard-packed, sandy soil, andthen asked Miriam, “How long has this been here? What’s your best guess?”
She walked along the tracks, feeling them with her hand. “Not long. Maybe this morning, but no more than a day or two.” She straightened. “It’s a good sign.”
“It’s a terrible sign,” Jacob said. “What’s my father doing up here?”
“Even if he still owns the truck, it might not be him,” she said. “Could be one of your brothers, or even one of his wives. Someone working for Taylor Junior who needed four-wheel drive to get close enough to hike in.”
“So a traitor. Even worse.”
“But if you’re sure this is his truck, then we’re in the right place. It’s no coincidence, that’s for sure.”
“Look, there’s some kind of a trail here,” David said.
Shoe and boot prints marked the sand in a path toward the cliffs. There was no official trailhead or cairns of stone to mark the trail as Jacob would have expected had they belonged to backpackers setting off into the wilderness area.
“Looks like we’ve got our trail,” Jacob said.
It took some time to make sure water, sleeping bags, and cook gear had been secured to the backpack frames, to slather on sunblock, and finally to consult compasses and maps, but soon they were off. Jacob adjusted his hat against the baking sun. Felt like it was already into the nineties, and it would only grow hotter. A trickle of sweat worked its way down his side, then rolled in drops down his temples and finally soaked his chest and back.
Ant mounds punctuated the desert floor, surrounded by bare patches, denuded of every plant or twig. Just outside one colony,a horned lizard sat in the shade of sagebrush, lapping up the ants that came too close. It lay motionless as the hikers approached, camouflaged like a stone against the sand, and if Jacob hadn’t seen that quick movement for ants, he might have missed it.
“You okay?” Miriam asked David when he started to flag thirty or forty minutes later. She’d shed her prairie dress for jeans, hiking boots, and a long-sleeved shirt. She wore a scarf over her head.
“I’m fine,” he grunted.
“How is your headache? Need some aspirin?”
“I’ll be okay.”
Nevertheless, he fell farther and farther behind until
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