Authors: Jacqueline Colt
“How come this didn’t get stolen,” Rocky asked.
They were acting like three kids with a new toy and they were. Rocky pulled herself away from the porch and started preparing dinner.
They worked on the porch doing the gold cleanup for more than five hours and it seemed like five seconds. Rocky remembered that she had not slept at all. This day was what she hoped the sojourn at the cabin would be. She prepared dinner with a big smile on her face.
They recovered almost eight hundred dollars worth of gold bits, flakes and the dust known as fines. There was one nice little nugget that might bring around one hundred on its own. The gold was placed as the centerpiece of the kitchen table when they sat down to eat. They swirled it around making pretty patterns in it.
“Here is the plan for tonight,” Devlin had their full attention.
“When we spot him, then I’m going to walk to the spot he leaves his truck. I’m going to disable his truck enough that he can’t zoom off before we have a man to man chat. Then I’m going to the bottom of the rock and wait for him to come back down for that chat.”
“What do you want us to do?” Margie was going to wiggle herself out of the chair with anticipation.
“You two are going to stay in the cabin and take pictures of him on the rock. As soon as I’m out the door I want you two to turn on the lights in the living room. Then go into the kitchen with the door to the living room closed. I want you to stay in the kitchen ’till I get back,” Dev informed them.
“But, I think we should go to his truck and standby there until you get back, in case, he slips by you,” Margie was making it plain she had her own set of plans.
Rocky saw that Margie had no intention of staying in the cabin, while Dev was out spooking around.
“No, don’t you even think of coming down there, Margie. You never know, the guy might be dangerous.”
“That is precisely my point and reason for going down there as backup, with the dogs and the cell phone,” Margie pleaded her case.
“And the shot gun,” Rocky piped in.
“Yeah, and the shotgun,” Margie concurred as she high fived Rocky.
“Come on, this isn’t some Hardy girls adventure story, you will stay here,” her brother was trying to look fierce as he stated his final word on the matter.
Margie and Rocky looked as innocently as possible at each other. They knew that was not going to happen. The three of them burst out laughing.
Devlin said, “I’m serious.”
“We are too,” Margie and Rocky chorused.
It seemed minutes that Rocky had been asleep, when Margie shook her arm.
“Rocky, wake up, the guy is on the rock, we saw him moving into place and saw the flash. Time to get up, who knows how long he spends up there. Let’s give him a show. Leave the lights off in here.”
Rocky pulled on jeans and a T-shirt and fumbled around for her boots. They moved as silently and quickly as possible into the living room. Devlin had on his backpack and ski mask and looked like the unfriendly neighborhood bank robber. He slipped out the front door, Margie and Rocky re-attached the booby trap over the door, and then they moved into the dark kitchen.
Rocky closed the door on her arm and fumbled for the kitchen light switch. She closed her eyes before she turned it off. When the kitchen door was closed, they had the three dogs, a baby jackrabbit, the tripods, and the two of them shut up in the little kitchen. There was no room to stumble around with a false move. They swapped places. Rocky began the series of photos, while she was watching through the night scope.
Frame after frame, the women hoped they were capturing something on the film.
“There, I see him moving,” Rocky moved out of the way and Margie put her eye to the scope.
“I can’t tell what he is doing, but he has moved over three feet to our left and he is standing up. Get some pictures; maybe he is taking a whiz. We can blackmail him on the Internet,” Margie was giggling and pulling Rocky back into the camera position.
Rocky continued shooting until the film hit the stop. She was using the slowest speed film she owned, hoping to get something usable in the night.
“That finishes the roll, Margie, there is no point of us sticking around here now,” Rocky told her.
"Let me set up my digital on auto, and night, maybe we will get something."
“Stop long enough for me to switch out the living room light...,” she said.
“No, Margie, leave it on, we want his eyes used to the light.
“When we turn it out and go out the door it will take his eyes a few seconds to dilate enough to see in the dark, we can get off the porch without him seeing us.”
They brought all of the animals and themselves into the living room without knocking anything over. Rocky checked the safety on the shotgun and stuffed four spare shells into her shirt pocket. Margie had on her backpack and her flashlight. They reached over the door and pulled the booby trap down.
Turning out the living room lights, even though they couldn’t see where they were going, they managed to slip down onto the meadow and then the driveway. The dogs were ahead of them and Pokey was following a scent, probably Dev’s.
They took a left turn at the county road and then a short walk to where there was a truck parked.
“Think my hubby got here before we did,” Margie was quietly giggling when she pointed out the flat tires on the front driver’s side of the older white beater truck.
They moved over to the opposite road bank and got comfortable for who knows how long a wait. The dogs spread out looking for good scents and small animals to chase. They would come running on a whistle.
“Are you okay with the shotgun?” Margie asked. "Is it on safety? You can’t really shoot the guy.”
"I’m not shooting anything; I won’t even wave it around. Totally, defensive,” Rocky assured her.
They again sat in silence for a couple of minutes.
“Margie, did it ever occur to you to wonder why the burglar didn’t take the shotgun?” Rocky asked.
They sat there long enough that her behind was now flat as a skipping rock. It was hard for her to keep quiet while they watched and listened for the bad guy and Devlin.
“Margie, why didn’t the burglar take the shotgun?” Rocky asked her again, her voice like a foghorn in the quiet night.
“Ouch.” Rocky yelped.
“Sorry, shush,” Margie said as she again elbowed Rocky in her sore rib cage. “Listen, someone is coming across the meadow.”
“I see someone, over there by the “No Trespassing” post,” Rocky pointed in the dark.
A figure came looming out of the night, strolling directly across from where the women were sitting. He pulled keys out of his pocket, threw a backpack into the bed of the pickup, stepped into the driver’s side and drove away.
“Must have fixed the starter last week,” Rocky ventured.
“There is Dev and the dogs,” Margie got up from the roadside then ran to meet her husband.
“What happened, wait for me,” Rocky boosted herself upright, tried not to moan too loudly and walked to meet them.
“Come on Dev, tell us, what happened? Are you all right?”
“Easy ladies, I’m fine. The gentleman and I had a chat and he had a chat with Phoebe and Pokey regarding private property. He left,” Devlin was looking down the county road in the direction of the departed truck.
“He didn’t even seem to notice the flat tire,” Margie was grinning.
“I don’t think Mr. Callaghan was interested in sticking around after meeting up with Phoebe in the dark. Damn, that little dog is a warrior, she must be Irish,” announced Devlin.
Devlin was trying to give Phoebe a pat on the head, but she skittered out of his reach and was peeking around Rocky’s legs at him.
They were half way up the driveway by the time Devlin had finished with the recitation of what happened.
“That is all?” Margie was looking quizzical, and a bit disappointed.
“Yes, sorry to disappoint you girls, but we had a chat after he had a chat with the dogs, and he decided that he liked the skin on his butt. He left the building, escorted all the way to his truck by Lovie and Pokey.”
“But, what did he say, why was he there?” Rocky demanded to know.
“He didn’t have much to say. He was trying to take photos of owls, he said,” Devlin was grinning at them.
“You made that up, he really didn’t say that,” Margie said as she wrapped her arm around his waist.
“Yeah, that is what he said, you believed him as much as Phoebe and I did,” Devlin went on. “He said that he never saw the No Trespassing signs and didn’t know that the rock was private property.”
“Then what did he think it was, a state park?”
They ran down the conversation speculating on the real reason he was there.
That was a better way to end the situation, than what it could have been. All he was getting was a ruined tire, and they got some exercise.
“Margie and I, nevertheless, are staying the night,” Dev was putting his feet up on the table and making himself at home with Pokey draped over his lap.
“Ummm, kind of a let down ending to this,” Margie was looking vaguely disappointed again.
“Blood thirsty women. You two should have been pirates, or something,” Devlin was half-asleep by then, and the women moved into the kitchen.
Nevertheless, Rocky planned to report it to the Sheriff substation in the morning.
All was quiet again on the old cabin place. Dawn had come and gone, Margie and Dev had gone to their jobs.
Rocky made a report to the Deputy by phone. He didn’t seem wildly interested in coming all the way out to Whiskey Gap to take a report in person.
Rocky would be in the river as soon as she could call Mr. Wilkinson about a job.
C
hapter 19
I
t was already hot and dry; the scent of sagebrush was drifting down from the mountainside. It was the waiting and the phone contact that was taking too much time from getting any gold searching completed.
“How soon would you need the plane?” Rocky asked their old family friend.
“Well, Rocky, the next race is next weekend. Now what I need you to do is fly the crew to the raceway on Friday morning. If we don’t qualify, then you can fly us home Saturday afternoon or evening.”
"Okay, I can do that."she said, filling the pet water bowls and listening.
“If we qualify, then I would need you to pick us up with some extra equipment and get us home Sunday evening,” Mr. Wilkinson laid out his plan.
“That sounds doable, you want me to stick around for the weekend, or do you want to phone for me to pick you up.”
“Unless you have something else going on I think that since I’m paying for the fuel, you better stick around the whole weekend. We only do this once a month, it isn’t too bad,” Mr. Wilkinson said.
“I think I can handle that, in fact I would love doing that,” Rocky said with a big smile in her voice.
If only Mr. Wilkinson knew how much she would love having a steady paycheck, a once a month steady real paycheck. Knowing that the check wouldn’t bounce also worked for her.
They agreed on a fee plus expenses that was four times what Rocky had been bringing in from her mining in a month. She would have a signed, sealed and delivered contract in her pocket tomorrow afternoon.
Rocky was happily getting closer to running water in the bathroom. The next phone call to her insurance company to add more coverage for the charter flights, made her re-consider having running water.
The first two charters will go to cover the increase in the coverage. Rocky guessed the Sun Showers shower wasn’t that awful.
Rocky called Devlin and borrowed the money for the first insurance premium.
* * *
“Harris took off half an hour ago, no flight plan filed,” Clark stated, hanging up the phone.
“Call California, see if she is going to your neighbor’s house for the weekend,” the team Boss directed Callaghan.
“I thought she would be in hiding again, after Boston PD found Ricky Spumoni,” Callaghan mused. “Any time there is even the merest possibility that she has ordered a hit, she sticks like glue to the compound in Boston.”
“Which brings up the question, if Ricky Spumoni was the Harris family hit man, why would she order a hit on her own guy?” Luke speculated.
“That is the question we should be asking our people instead of sitting here comfortable on our arses.” Callaghan said. “I’ll think of some reason to call Clancy, and see if Harris is there.”
“I’m going to talk to people. keep in touch Callaghan, you are still on Jazz Harris’ known shit list,” the Boss reminded him as he rushed out the door.
* * *
The last three days had been good. Good dredging, good getting more things done in the cabin and good getting her head screwed back on straight. Rocky’s leg was healing well enough to dredge and push rudder pedals without pain shooting up her leg.
She borrowed a pair of navy blue slacks from Margie to wear with her only decent white blouse for the racing team flight.
She had put off contacting her attorney in Anchorage to find out how the divorce was progressing. She was dragging her feet on that and puzzled why that should be, but she needed to do that chore and soon.
Rocky started a new list of things to do on Monday and put the attorney’s phone number in big letters on the top.
Friday dawned beautiful and perfect for the short one-hour flight west to the raceway near Tracy. This would be a four-hour drive for the race crew, by flying they will get there rested and ready for the race prep and trials. With the plane, they can fly in, race, and get home. Mr. Wilkerson was hoping to improve their performance without the travel time.
They were scheduled to leave at nine thirty, which meant Rocky was leaving the cabin no later than five AM, to drop the dogs at Dev and Margie’s. That would get her at the airport with plenty of time for the full checklist. She wanted to make sure that the seats were not full of dog hair from the trip down from Anchorage.
Rocky’s mind was on a million things to do, when she saw that Dev had a gift bag behind his back, now what was he up to?
“Here’s a little good luck charm for you, not that we think you need it to fly or anything,” Dev was sputtering.
Margie added, “I took it to the cleaners, and they did the best they could, but I still think it is too disreputable.”
Rocky opened the bag, and there it was. Dad’s lucky racing cap, with “Wilkinson-Clancy Racing Team”, scrolled out in gold thread on the Kelly green cap.
That cap was instantly on her head and with a huge smile she was ready to hit the bricks to Auburn and pick up her charter.
The checklist was done, and she had gone over the seats with a whisk broom and a whole roll of cellophane tape. The seats need Margie’s steam cleaner and at the same time she could clean the interior of the plane. It smelled too much like a fur bearing animal.
There were her passengers coming across the tarmac, and they had one tote bag each as luggage. That would make for an easy fuel efficient run.
“Good morning Rocky, this is your plane? It is bigger than I thought it would be.” Mr. Wilkinson was looking pleased.
“Yes sir, she usually carries cargo, but we are rated for passengers also. If this is the usual amount of baggage you have, we can carry spare parts too,” Rocky respectfully replied.
“That is a good idea, we can talk about it for next month, we could take spares to sell like your Dad used to do,” Mr. Wilkinson had his brain calculating that money in a flash.
“I like the hat; it brings back good memories.” he said thumping her hat bill with his finger.
“For me too, sir,” Rocky said. “Shall we get aboard?”
As one of the men walked by her toward the plane, he said, “Are you with the Mile High Club?”
Mr. Wilkinson was right there before Rocky could even reply.
“Captain Clancy does not serve herself nor snacks. That remark will cost you a fine of one hundred dollars. The Captain is here to fly us to the races, nothing more or less,” Wilkinson said.
“I was only joking, Boss,” the man was not convincing Rocky nor his employer.
“No, you weren’t,” Mr. Wilkinson said. “Just keep talking Karl and it’ll cost you another hundred.”
Karl stomped up the steps to the door and thumped his fist on the edge. The rest of the crew followed him inside the plane, all looking a little sheepish.
That did not start the charter out on the best footing, but with the preflight finished and clearance for takeoff, they were off and flying. The conversation in the cabin turned to the coming races.
Rocky paid attention to her flying. The route would take her through the pattern for Sacramento International and across the Big Valley into the pattern for Oakland San Francisco airports.
Tracy had a nice airport with much commute traffic from out in the Delta and Sierra foothills into the auxiliary business’ and the National Laboratory in Livermore.
It seemed her passengers barely got comfortable, when Rocky advised them to fasten their seat belts for landing.
As Rocky did the shutdown checklist and all the passengers were off and into the waiting car, Mr. Wilkinson stopped at the door.
“Ill have the car back for you as soon as we get everyone settled,” he told Rocky. “Shouldn’t be more than an hour. You can do whatever you want; I’ll call you on the cell phone if I need the car back. Good flight, this is going to work out real swell.”
Mr. Wilkinson was old enough that he could say the word swell without sounding silly.
Rocky finished her checklist, there was no rush, she had nothing to do but pay the landing and space fee. She could hang out until the car got back to take her to the raceway.
Mr. Wilkinson prepaid the space fee until tomorrow night. That was nice, Rocky was thinking she was going to have to provide up front money. She ordered the fuel to be topped up; and kicked back waiting for the car.
"There are garage sales this morning,” Rocky said to the ops agent inside the base operator building. “That is great, where is the car and do you have a map of Tracy, please.”
After a morning haunting garage sales all over Tracy, she sat in the shade of an umbrella at a small deli on Main Street. Rocky tried not to wolf down the delicious salad and tuna sandwich.
She was thinking how many ways to use her garage sale find. She bought a Flexible Flier Stake Side kids wagon.
After finishing lunch she was going to Home Depot. The little wagon needed a new wheel. Without a doubt, Rocky can find a board at the cabin that will make a new stake for the broken one. This little wagon has seen some serious playtime. There were lots of things to do with it at the cabin. Its main task would be to haul the waste water from the kitchen to the garden.
Rocky also bought a package of knitting needles of all sizes wrapped in an old rubber band. She was thrilled with her fifty cents buy.
Kicking back the rest of the afternoon in an air-conditioned movie house with Johnny Depp was the remainder of her big day.
The air was suffocating hot on the broiling street, when the movie let out. Rocky took the car back to the crew motel and waited for the crew pickup call. Rocky was not sure that crew pickup was part of the contracted deal, but since she used the car for free, she could live with that.
The rest of the weekend consisted of Rocky waiting and being bored. The race team qualified and Sunday they won the class they were driving in. After they had loaded all the gear into the lowboy that transported the race cars, it was close to six in the afternoon when Rocky nosed the plane up into the eastern sky for home base.
After getting to altitude, Rocky took some ribbing about the kid’s wagon in the cargo compartment. But this time, the ribbing was all in fun.
Monday morning Rocky deposited the flight charter check in her slender bank account. Lovie, Phoebe, and Rocky spent the rest of the Monday morning at the airport cleaning out the interior of the plane and checking fluids under the cowl.
The seats would not take but an instant to dry in the rising heat and Rocky was more than ready to get underwater in the afternoon and cool off.
There was a business card of a mechanic stuck under the plane's windshield wipers, Rocky tucked that into her cell phone cover.
“I need to make some money and calling all over the place is taking time, time is money, and money is what we don't have,” Rocky explained to the dogs as they drove out of the airport in Auburn.
Getting home, the dogs headed for the river for a cooling dip. The cabin was already hot, Rocky planned to sleep on the porch, if it did not cool down by evening.
The garden had been dinner to a herd of hungry animals. Everything down to the last leaf had been eaten or tromped upon. The water basins and furrows were broken.
Rocky was not the giving up person, she would always take the extra mile, but this was too much. All the work bringing up the water, people driving out to Whiskey Gap to water the plants and then this.
"For what? This was supposed to provide us food and save money,too. Nope, I’m done with this,” Rocky yelled at the meadow. “You bastards can starve.”
She walked around to the porch and saw that the pots of lettuce were still there waving in the slight breeze. That would have to be enough garden for her.
"So much for the goat idea, maybe next year."
Rocky got the water bucket and gave the lettuce a good hearty drink, and picked some leaves for dinner.
Changing into her beaten up old wet suit she prepared to go earn the rest of the paycheck for that day.
Into the river and surrounded by the blissful coolness of the water Rocky surveyed the grid she worked on the previous day. She was pleased with her progress in that section.
Her dive watch was on four and the dredge motor was sputtering for lack of gas, that was a good time to quit for the day. She pulled the miners moss and carpet out of the dredge and dumped it into the sink.
Sitting in the kitchen sink, there were some little visible flakes of gold and there was a sweet tiny nugget right up on top. It might bring twenty-five dollars depending on what the other side of it looked like. Rocky smiled at it and dropped it into the jelly jar. Her hair was already a dried fluffy mass of ringlets in the late afternoon heat, and she had nothing started for dinner.
This was the pits having to cook on this wood stove in the summer with no air conditioning. Rocky cannot believe how spoiled she had become, her family used to do that all the time when she was a kid.
“Hello, do you know where the antique store is on Stephanie Lane? The one with the blue picket fence?” Margie was on the phone, Rocky is stirring the saute.
“I think I can find it, why, what’s up, Margie?” Rocky asked while getting an enormous pain in her stomach.