The Pot Thief Who Studied Billy the Kid (22 page)

“
Yeah, I remember. That was Dolly’s house. Y
ou asked her
if
it would be
okay
if the two of
you
had a picnic under the trees
, and she said
okay but give her a minute
to put her shoes
on
.”

“
Right.
But what I mean
t
by ‘the two of us’ was Geronimo and me. She just misunderstood.”

“Anyone would have. Who
goes on a picnic with a dog
? So why are you telling me this again?
”

“Because I want to tell you something nice
about Frank Aguirre. Dolly told me his will directed that he be cremated and his ashes dumped into the irrigation
ditch
that flows by that little grove.”

She shook her head. “Geez, Hubie. Most people want something a little more noble or romantic, like
having their
ashes
scattered
on a mountain top or in their favorite trout stream. Who would pick an irrigation ditch?”

“Frank Aguirre, that’s who.
He wanted his ashes dumped in the irrigation ditch so that they would be
absorbed by tree roots and aspirated into the atmosphere as oxygen to help make up for all the carbon dioxide he had put into the air with his long lectures.”

“Are you serious?”

“That’s what Dolly told me.”

“I think I would have liked hi
m.
”

23

It was past four when we turned off the highway just west of the low water bridge. I watched
Cerro Roto
and kept the topo map aligned with the land feat
ures. It was easier than>
"Palat
the first
trip
because I had been there once, and also because I was able to navigate while Susannah drove.

The terrain for most of the drive was rough
–
dunes, lava, arroyos, brush and cactus. About a mile before reaching the rim, the land rises slig
htly and flattens into a meadow. I guess that’s where e
lk graze until someone puts an arrow into them. For those that survive the bow season, they have the guys with the big guns to look forward to later in the fall.

Susannah handled the truck like she’d been driving off road for years, which I suppose she had. When we reached the site, she maneuvered the truck into position as I directed.

I put my good foot in the loop on the bottom of the rope and slipped the rope though a safety harness around my waist.

“I don’t think you
should do this,” Susannah said.

“You’re the one
who
convinced me I should do it.”

“I still think it has to be done. I just don’
t
think
you
should do it. I think
I
should do it.
”

“I know. You’re less squeamish than I am, you aren’t afraid of heights and you don’t have a cast on your leg.”

“How did you know I was going to say that?”

“Because that’s what Tristan said when he offered to do it.”

“Well, he and I can’t both be wrong.”

“
Okay, you’
re right. Either one of you is better suited for the task than I am. But th
is is not about who’
s
best for the task. It’s about who the task is best for. I need to do this.”

She gave me a hug. “I’m proud of you.”

alatinotypPalatinHold the praise until we see what happens.”

I took the shard out of my shirt pocket and stuck it in my back pocket so that it wouldn’t break on the way down.

“Why do you
taking that
shard
with you
?”

“I’m
sure it’s an ancient
body
. After I verify that, I’m
going to leave
the shard
in his hand.”

“Why?”

“Because after I dismissed the idea of sticking a cross on his grave, I wondered whether something else would be appropriate. The shard is the best I can do.”

I got down on my stomach and inched backwards until my foot and my cast were in midair. Susannah activated the w
i
nch, leaving about three feet of slack. I scooted back until my legs were over the rim and my torso still on l
evel ground. The rope was taut.

“You can start letting it out very slowly,” I said. “When it goes slack, you’ll know I’m safely on the ground.”

“Or came free from the harness and are in the bottom of the gorge,” she said.

“Thanks.”

The edge of the precipice had been w
orn smooth over the ages by
the water that r
uns over it when it rains. Once my hips slipped over, all I had to do was keep my head up and my elbows out to avoid bumping my jaw when I went all the way over.

Then I closed my eyes and waite
d for my feet to make landfall.

Despite the cast, I managed to remain upright when I landed. I unhooked myself from the rope and looked around.

Nothing had changed.

I took the rebar out and started searching for pots. The soil wasn’t compacted, so the iron slipped in easily
every time I pushed it
. I followed my usual grid pattern an
d
spacing and h
it only three things, all
of which turned out to be rocks. No pots. Not even another shard
.

Now it wa
s time for the unpleasant part.

I moved the
big stone
and starte
d digging with my gloved hands.

Thirty
minutes later, I
re-harnessed myself to the rope and gave it a tug. I heard the winch start. I looked straight up during the trip for two reasons.

First, I was afraid to look down.

Second, I needed to use my hands and arms to slip over the ledge with as few
bumps and bruises as possible.

Once I was on high ground,
I scrambled to my feet and unhooked the rope.

“Wind the rope up and let’s get out of here,” I said.

After we were moving she said, “I can tell from your voice and the look on your face that digging up that guy again really unnerved you.”

I took a deep breath. “I didn’t dig him up.”

“You chickened out?”

“No. He wasn’t there.”

She slammed on the brakes.

“What do you mean he wasn’t there?”

“There is no body down there. It’s gone. Would you drive,
please?
I want out of here.”

“I’m not going anywhere until we figure this out. Otherwise we’ll just have to make another trip. Better to go back now and find the body.”

“There is no body to find.”

“You must have dug in the wrong place.”

“I du
g under the
big stone
that w
under >
as
right over the body.
Wh
en I didn’t find the hand at fir
s
t, I figured I was off by a few inches
, so I kept widening
the hole
. It got wider and wider
until it was big enough to bury this truck in. I dug at least four feet in every direction
.
”

“You didn’t dig deep enough.”

I shook my head. “I dug deeper.”

She was thinking. I wanted out of there, but it was obvious she wasn’t leaving until she had satisfied herself that the body really was gone.

“There’s only one explanation. Someone moved the
stone
.
You were digging in the wrong place.
”

I shook my head again. “Yo
u remember how you told me
I should look for pots
before
I dug up the hand because once I touched the hand again I might be in no mental shape to look for pots?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I took your advice. I probed every square inch of the ground with my rebar using my six-inch grid pattern. And the bar sunk down with eas
e
except for three rocks I hit.”

I could see her relenting. “You
’
r
e
positive the body isn’t there?”

“
Absolutely
. I’ve been digging
pots for over twenty years. I know how to find things under the ground.”

She slipped
the
truck back
in gear and we started rolling.
ollspan>

Our tracks were still visible, so I didn’t have to navigate. And she could go faster
because she didn’t have to wa
it for instructions. She was thinking as she drove.

When we hit the paved road, she said,
“Here’s what must have happened
. Remember we
considered the possibility that whoever took your Bronco wasn’t stealing i
t but just wanted to strand you?
It had to be the murderer. He saw the truck with the ro
p
e hanging over the
ledge
so he
knew t
h
ere was someone down there. He was afraid you would discover the body, so he moved the truck hoping you would die down there and his victim wouldn’t be discovered. But when you made it out safely, he
knew you might go to the police, so he had to move the body to another hiding place.”

I had been thinking along the same lines. I didn’t have a better theory, but I did se
e
some flaws in the one she offered.

“
Look, Suze, the place is difficult to get to. You just drove it round trip, so you know that. On my first visit, I arrived at dusk because I wanted to dig at night.
So what was the murderer doing out there when he saw me?”