Last Wolf at Eagle Well, page 20
Later that afternoon, Rusty drove back to where he thought he’d seen the whiskey bottle he believed Travis Evans had lost as he sped from the approaching BLM pickup. He’d seen it from the air. Finding it on the ground though might prove to be different. If nothing else, someone needed to get that bottle out of there as it could act as a magnifier, concentrating the sun’s rays and possibly starting a fire—something not needed in this drought-stricken area.
Rusty parked near where he thought he’d seen the bottle. He walked about half an hour in each direction, with no success. He was walking back to his Suburban when he saw something. About twenty feet away, under a small cedar tree, flashed something shiny. He walked over and found a plastic wrapper from a strip of jerky. The contents were gone—probably eaten by ants or other bugs. Maybe even coyotes or wolves. Travis Evans had said he had jerky along with his whiskey. This was probably his. The bottle was most likely close by, but Rusty hadn’t seen it. Maybe it was farther back and had fallen off the tailgate before the jerky had.
He took the wrapper and walked back to his Suburban. He debated on going back the road farther and looking more, but it was getting late and he didn’t want to have to drive out of there in the dark. He turned around and drove slowly back out to the pavement. A few miles up toward Datil, his phone pinged that he was back in service and had a voice message.
Rusty quickly glanced at the phone. He had three messages. He pulled off the road at the first wide spot and looked at them. All three were from the same person: Sally Hanson. Rusty quickly called her. “Sally, I just got back into service and see you’ve been calling.”
“Oh, Rusty,” she said, “I was putting a new picture of Little Jimmy in the computer, and I saw where Jimmy had made a file of photos marked ‘E-well.’ I opened it and, well, I’m sure you’ll want to see them. This might help you a lot.”
CHAPTER 15
On his way to Socorro the next morning to meet with Sally Hanson, Rusty called Chub. “Good morning. Did Sally Hanson call you?”
“Yeah,” Chub said. “Pretty exciting, don’t you think?”
“I hope this is what I need,” Rusty said. “You have time to meet me there? I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“You bet,” Chub said. “I was hoping you’d call.”
“See you there.”
When Rusty pulled up to Sally’s house not long after he and Chub had ended their conversation, Chub’s car was already outside. Rusty walked to the door and knocked. Sally let him in and led him to the kitchen table, where Chub sat with a cup of coffee.
“Coffee?” Sally asked.
“Oh, no thanks,” Rusty said. “I was up early. I’ve had too much already. Guess I was anxious to see what you have.”
“Sure,” Sally said. “The computer is in the room here that Jimmy called his office. It was sort of his area. I don’t go in there much. I only use the computer to send some e-mails or maybe order an occasional thing I can’t find here. Everyone knows that I didn’t share his enthusiasm for all that treasure hunting stuff, so he didn’t bother me with it. I should have paid more attention. What I’d give to go out there in the dirt and heat or cold or whatever and be with him now.”
Rusty and Chub followed Sally to the office room. She had the computer turned on and opened to the e-well photo file. The first photo was of the turnoff from the pavement onto that road on Sheriff Cutter’s ranch, back where Rusty was the previous day and where Duke and Charlie had their garden.
The next photo showed a fairly large cedar tree. Looking close, one could see it was right in the middle of where an old, now unused road turned off to the south.
“That tell you anything?” Rusty asked Chub.
“Looks odd, like someone planted it there years ago. Trying to hide the road entrance, maybe?” Chub said.
“Could be,” Rusty said. “Probably at least twenty years ago. Maybe twice that long.”
The next photo showed some fresh-cut brush piled along this old, southerly heading road. The next one revealed someone sawing off tree limbs, and it wasn’t Jimmy.
“Who’s that?” Rusty asked.
“That’s young Cisco Calderone,” Chub said. “So, Cisco was in on this with Jimmy.”
“Yeah, and he left the area a few days afterwards,” Rusty said. “I think I need to go to Santa Fe and have a talk with Cisco Calderone.”
The next photo showed a small section of bare ground under a cedar tree that grew out on top of a wash bank. As Rusty studied it, he spotted something. “Look,” he said, pointing to a dark item. “That’s an old railroad tie protruding from the ground. Sure, that’s a frame buried ground level, made of railroad ties. That’s the well. That’s it, Chub. We’re looking at the Eagle Well.”
“Yeah,” Chub said. “That’s a metal plate over it, hidden mostly by those rocks and that gravel. You really could walk right by this if you weren’t looking for it. That tree growing there now really hides it.”
“Cisco was there,” Rusty said. “He knows where it is. Good bet he knows what happened to Jimmy too. The fact that he hasn’t come forward—”
“Yeah,” Chub said. “That’s not good.”
Sally clicked to the next photo. It was in poor light—obviously near dusk. The rocks and gravel were off the plate, and it was lying off to the side.
“That must have been the first time they opened the lid,” Rusty said. “It was getting dark. They needed a ladder, rope, and other things. I’d say they left, Jimmy gathered up all that was needed, then went back the next day. That’s when—”
“What did they find?” Chub asked. “What’s with Cisco? I don’t like this.”
“That’s the last one,” Sally said. “I wish there were more. Something to show what they found. He must have downloaded these his last night here.”
Rusty thought about things for a few minutes as no one spoke. “Thank you, Sally. I’m sure this will help a bunch. Can you e-mail me copies of these?”
“Sure, I can do that—I think. Why don’t you do it now, so it’s done right?” she said. Rusty sent himself the photos, then looked at Sally. “How are you getting along?”
“I’ve had lots of family visit me,” Sally replied. “That’s helped. It still doesn’t seem real, though. This is nothing I ever thought about. We were going to be together forever.”
“Little Jimmy? How’s he?” Rusty asked.
“He’s over playing with a neighbor boy now. He’s fine sometimes, then real quiet and grumpy others. He doesn’t want to talk. He probably doesn’t know what to say, how to express his feelings. He’s so young. Then too, being a child, he still has someone doing all he needs for him. In many ways, his life hasn’t changed all that much. I still feed him, clothe him, read to him and, well, you see what I mean. Me—my whole world has turned upside down.”
Rusty nodded slightly. He had little comfort for Sally. She didn’t need a bunch of empty words. Rusty and Chub left shortly thereafter. As they walked outside, Rusty spoke. “I’m going to Santa Fe. Wish you could come with me.”
“Boy, do I ever wish I could,” Chub said. “I actually have to go out to Datil this afternoon.”
“Can you stop by the café and tell Manny that I might be gone overnight?” Rusty asked.
“Sure. Sheriff Cutter too?” Chub asked.
“Oh, just Manny will be OK. He’ll worry if I don’t show up at the hotel tonight,” Rusty said. “Besides, I don’t want any rumors to start about Cisco and what we saw. I’ve got to talk to him first. There could be an element of vigilante thoughts among some of those old boys out there and, well, you know the sheriff.”
“A good old-fashioned lynching might get some of them to throw down their canes and dance a jig,” Chub said.
“It’s not just the old ones I’d worry about,” Rusty said.
“Yeah,” Chub said. “Cisco might have a logical explanation for everything. He surely doesn’t seem like the killer type.”
“Nobody I’ve met out here does,” Rusty said.
Once on the road north, Rusty called Liz.
“Rusty, about time you called me.”
“Yes, mother.”
“I’m not your mother, thankfully. If I was, I’d turn you over my knee and spank you good, for all you put me through.”
“My mother loves me, just as I am.”
“Twisted minds run in your family,” Liz replied.
“I intended to call you yesterday,” Rusty said, “but I was out of phone range most of the day.”
“Likely excuse. About this e-mail request, all twelve parts…”
“You got it then,” Rusty said. “How are you coming on things?”
“You want me to tell you now what I’ve found so far or just e-mail everything to you?” Liz asked.
“E-mail would be best,” Rusty said. “I’m driving. On my way to Santa Fe.”
“Santa Fe? Oh, Rusty. Harland’s going to go crazy when you stop by.”
“Actually, I wasn’t planning on stopping by. I’m in a hurry to do an interview. It’s important. I have no reason to stop by the office.”
“You could say you miss seeing me.”
“We’re doing just fine arguing by phone,” Rusty quipped.
“If Harland finds out you were through here and you didn’t stop—”
“I don’t intend to tell him,” Rusty said.
“If he asks, well…” Liz said.
“Tell him if you have to, of course,” Rusty said. “He’s too busy to worry about me.”
“Right—I worry enough for the whole office. So this important interview, let me guess, is it for the 1897 murder, the 1930 disappearance, the 1955 mystery? Which one, Rusty?”
“Actually, it’s a young man who was with Jimmy the day before he went missing, if not that very day.”
“What’s he doing in Santa Fe?” Liz asked.
“Becoming a priest.”
“You’re joking, right? You think a priest killed Jimmy Hanson? You have lost your mind.”
“Later then,” Rusty said.
“Rusty. Please, do be careful.”
Shortly after noon, Rusty pulled into the seminary at Santa Fe. He hoped that he might catch Cisco between classes. Rusty approached the reception desk at the main office.
“I’m Sister Tina,” the middle-aged lady there greeted him. “How may I help you?”
“I’m Rusty Redtail, FBI,” he said, handing her his card. “I’m investigating a case that one of your students might have some very important information on. It’s critical that I speak with him today.”
“Oh my,” Sister Tina said. “This is highly unusual. During the day—on class days—”
“I wouldn’t be making this request if it wasn’t extremely important.”
“I’m sure none of our students here… The FBI… I’ll have to get permission. Who is it you need to see?”
“Cisco Calderone.”
“Oh—that nice young man. Surely he’s not in any trouble.”
“I didn’t say he was,” Rusty said. “Please.”
“I’ll have to check with Father Steinman. He’s really in charge of the students. Right now, this is a prayer and meditation time for the student body. I really shouldn’t bother the Father now.”
“It’s very important,” Rusty reiterated.
“How long will this take?” Sister Tina asked.
“I really don’t know. As long as necessary.”
Sister Tina took a deep breath, then dialed an extension number. “Father Steinman? This is Sister Tina, at the front desk. I’m sorry to bother you, but I have a highly unusual request. There’s a man here, an FBI man really, who wants to talk to one of the students, right now. What should I do?” Sister Tina stared at Rusty. “One of the new boys. Yes, Cisco Calderone. Yes. Not until evening?”
“The phone, please,” Rusty said, reaching for it.
“Father, he wants to talk to you.” Sister Tina handed the phone to Rusty without waiting for a response.
“Father Steinman, my name is Rusty Redtail. I’m an FBI agent working on a very important case. I know this is unusual, but I must talk to Cisco Calderone now. If I have to go back to the federal courthouse in Albuquerque and get a court order, I won’t be in a good mood when I return and not nearly as cooperative, so please have Cisco meet me in one of your meeting rooms as soon as possible. Thank you for your cooperation.”
Rusty handed the phone back to Sister Tina. Her voice quivered as she again spoke to Father Steinman. “Ahh—yes, the small conference room. Yes. I’ll see that he’s brought there immediately.”
She hung up the phone, took a deep breath, then pointed back a hallway. “You’ll see the conference room back there. I’ll have Cisco Calderone brought to you.”
“Thank you,” Rusty said. “Please believe me, this is very important. I’ll be as brief as possible.”
Rusty entered the room and sat at the end of a large table with twenty chairs around it. He opened his briefcase, took out his computer and turned it on, then opened the e-mail attachments he’d sent from Sally’s computer. He waited.
After about ten minutes, the door opened and a very scared looking young man entered. Rusty rose and smiled slightly, trying to relieve some of the tension.
“You want to see me?” the young man asked after closing the door, then stepping slowly toward the table.
“You’re Cisco Calderone, right?” Rusty asked.
The young man nodded, then weakly answered, “Yes.”
“Come sit down, over here,” Rusty said, motioning to a chair around the corner of the table from where he’d been sitting. Cisco slowly walked over, pulled out a chair, then followed Rusty’s instruction. His eyes were fixed on the table in front of him, not looking at Rusty.
“I’m Rusty Redtail. FBI agent investigating what happened to your friend, Jimmy Hanson.”
Cisco nodded slightly, still not looking at Rusty.
“How is school going for you?” Rusty asked. “This is surely a different life than out on the ranch.”
Cisco again nodded slightly, then meekly said, “It’s all right.”
“I grew up way out in the country, much like you did. Living in the city is vastly different. It takes a while to consider it normal. It did for me anyway. Bet you miss your family.”
“Sometimes,” Cisco said.
“Your father is very proud of you,” Rusty said. “He may not be able to communicate that to you, but believe me, he’s very proud.”
Finally, Cisco looked at Rusty, but said nothing.
“I was your age once,” Rusty said, breaking the silence. “So was your father. Hopefully, someday you’ll be our ages and then you’ll see things through a different prism of life’s experiences. Your dad’s older than I am, but I think I understand him.”
Rusty paused a minute, then went on. “I wish I could have understood my father better, before he died. But I was about your age, and…”
There was silence again for several seconds, then Rusty leaned back in his chair. “Tell me about you and Jimmy Hanson.”
“Nothing to tell,” Cisco said.
“Oh? Well, tell me about this picture then,” Rusty said as he turned his computer toward Cisco with the picture of Cisco at the road to the well.
Cisco pushed back in his chair but still said nothing.
“Look,” Rusty said. “I don’t think you killed Jimmy. I’m just trying to figure out who did.”
“I don’t know who did,” Cisco said. “If I knew, I’d tell you.”
“Well, tell me about these pictures.” Rusty clicked to the picture of the top of the Eagle Well. “Were you there when they were taken?”
“Guess so,” Cisco said.
“You were with Jimmy when he found the Eagle Well?”
Cisco stared at the picture, then closed his eyes. “Yeah, I was there. That’s the well as we found it. All covered up like that.”
“And when you uncovered it?” Rusty clicked to the picture of the well with the rocks and metal cover off.
“Yeah, I was there,” Cisco said. “The first day.”
“It was you who helped clear the brush and such from the old road, right? Somehow you knew where you were going. You knew the Eagle Well was back that road, right? This wasn’t just a fishing trip.”
“We knew,” Cisco said.
“How? Jimmy had looked for that well for a long time. He’d been all over those ranches.”
After a long, silent pause, Cisco started speaking. “One day Jimmy and me, we were sitting in the Datil Café. Jimmy had a map spread out on the table. We were talking about the Eagle Well, I guess. That was one of the most frequent things we talked about. Jimmy was picking places where he’d not yet looked that were in the general area that goofy Charlie fella had told him the well was. Out of nowhere, this old codger was standing at our table. He’d snuck up on us, almost ghostlike. Said he’d heard us talking about the Eagle Well. I don’t know where he came from. I never saw him before—neither had Jimmy.”
Cisco hesitated for a minute, then continued. “He told us to forget about the Eagle Well. He said it was cursed. Said there wasn’t any water there, only blood. He said all the coins would be gone by now. He said several times for us to just forget about it. He said it ruined his life—it might do the same for us. Too many secrets, he said.”
Cisco just stared at the table for a minute, then went on. “Jimmy finally got the old man to show him on his map where the well was. He said he’d come out here to see it one last time. Said he couldn’t get back into it and that was just as well. He said it was now lost, given back to the earth. He said it would be wrong for us to disturb it anymore.”
“Did he say why it ruined his life?” Rusty asked.
Cisco slowly nodded. “He said he was there with Sheriff Tuttle back in 1955 when he fought with Frederick Wolf. Said he helped set up the trap to catch Frederick there. He said he got shot in the leg. He still hobbled after all these years. Had a cane, so he did. He saw the sheriff get shot, Frederick Wolf too. He said he ran, afraid of what Frederick would do to him. He admitted he took a handful of the gold coins that Frederick had dropped, so he was afraid of the law too. He said he’d come back a few times and just sat and stared at the well, remembering what happened. This time was to be the last—but he couldn’t get to it. He took that as a sign that was finally all over. It was like he could now let it go. I felt this had haunted him, forever—controlled his life even.”
