The Garden, Chapter XXI

No dreams of Bertie haunted Charlie’s dreams that night, but echoes of the whiskey that he had consumed the evening before played the devil with his head the next morning.  He lay on the cot face-up, fully dressed still and with the blanket pulled up snugly around his neck.  The chill of the night air had not penetrated his covers enough to disturb his sleep but now, as he lay there waking up, he began to feel the cold.  His mouth felt like cotton balls.  “Must have been snoring and breathing through my mouth” he thought as he rolled onto his side and began to try to work up some saliva with his tongue.

He lay there a few more minutes until he realized that he would not be going back to sleep, and it would be a few more hours before it began to get warm again.  The sun had not yet appeared on the horizon but the light had advanced well past the faint glow of the first evidence of dawn.  “I’ll get a fire going and maybe get some coffee started” he thought, and pushed himself erect.

The fire took only a few minutes to get going and soon a boiling pan of water rested on the iron grate over the blaze.  Charlie had brought a jar of instant coffee which he intended to open momentarily.  Walt, however, emerged bleary eyed from the tent and quickly changed his plan.    “Damn” he said.  “I could hold my liquor a lot better when I was a lot younger.  My mouth’s dryer than a popcorn fart.  Ah, well done, Junior.  You got the water boiling, now Let Papa take over from here.”

Walt pulled a sack from the pantry which contained ground coffee.  He tilted the sack and began to empty some of the contents right into the boiling water.  “Hobo coffee” he explained.  “This is how my Grandpa used to make this stuff.  He lived on a farm a county or two away from Pierre, South Dakota.  Gramps didn’t cotton to change much.  “Worked fine for me when Teddy Roosevelt was president, so I guess it’ll work for me now that that bastard Johnson’s running the circus” I remember him saying.”

Billy emerged from the tent at this time, moving stiffly toward the fire.  It was obvious that the exertions he had made the day before had caused his damaged leg to tighten up.  Sleeping in a bag on a thin foam mat that had been rolled out onto the handpicked campground floor hadn’t helped it any either.  Walt asked Charlie for the bottle containing the last of the whiskey.  “Sorry Walt” Charlie told him.  “That old soldier has passed away.”  He walked to his pack and pulled out a fresh half pint of the same stock.  “We’ll have to open up his little brother.”

“You’re a gentleman and a scholar” Walt told him.   He opened the bottle and said “Hair of the dog” as he took a nip and then thrust the bottle towards Billy.  The young man accepted the bottle and took a nip of his own and then passed it to Charlie.  He accepted the bottle but declined to swallow any.

“It’ll take the edge off” Walt said.

“Naw, I’ll pass for now” Charlie replied.  “Probably put a drop into my coffee.”

In short order the coffee was boiling and Walt removed the pan from the stove.  “It’ll cool in a minute and the grounds will settle.  Most of them anyway.  You boys help yourselves.  I’ve gotta take a dump.  Leave me a little of the coffee, and you can leave me another swallow of that hooch, too.”

Walt walked away toward the bathroom and shower facilities on the far side of the campground.  Charlie waited only a minute or two before he carefully poured a tin cup full of coffee.  Billy extended a stained old mug toward him and Charlie filled that too.

“We’ll leave the dregs for Walt” Billy said.

“He’ll love that” Charlie replied.

“Oh, he won’t mind” Billy said wit a grin.  “You just save him a swallow of that fine, gentleman’s whiskey and all’ll be forgiven.  Say, we could get some breakfast going too.  You up for pulling a little K.P.?”

Charlie took a sip of the coffee, which turned out to be no worse than he got at Leroy’s, and considerably better than he had made for himself at the apartment.  “Dang, this is not bad!  How does he know all of that stuff?  Yeah, let’s cook some grits.”

With Billy taking lead, there was bacon and potatoes frying in two last iron skillets when Walt returned, looking a little better than he had when he left.  Walt eyed the dregs in the coffee pan and said “Thanks a pant load, guys.”

“It’s good for you.  It’s good training” Billy said.

“I should train my boot up your ass” Walt grumped.

Charlie handed the bottle Walt and said “Here.  Train some of this into your cup.”

“At least there’s one shitbird in this outfit that respects his elders” Walt said as he accepted the bottle.  “So what’s on the menu for breakfast?”

The men finally sat down at the thick wood and stone camp table and ate a breakfast that surpassed their previous one in Walla Walla, in quality if not quantity.  Billy put a kettle of water over the fire after Walt made another pan of coffee, and the water heated while they ate.  After finishing their meal and washing up with the hot water they stowed their supplies and began to make a plan.

“How’s the leg holding up?” Charlie asked Billy.

“It’s loosening up OK” Billy replied.  “Felt like I’d trashed it all over again first thing this morning, but it’s feeling pretty good now.”

“You think you can go as far as you did yesterday?”

“Yeah, no sweat.  Farther probably, if you bring that sweet chair.  I was thinking it would be nice to get up on a ridge if we can, where we can get a look at more territory.  Then we can use these.”  Billy reached into his pack and pulled out a set of binoculars.

“Zeiss!  Jeez, Billy.  You steal those from the Army?  I know you didn’t get them on what Uncle Sam was paying you!” Walt declared.

“No, I didn’t steal nothing” Billy protested.  “I prefer to call it ‘midnight requisition.’  Bedsides, they were just laying around, so I decided that the Army didn’t want them anymore.  Man, I thought that I would never get a chance to use these!”

“Well, all right.”  Walt exclaimed.  “Let’s saddle up and get this row on the shoad.”

They separated to get their packs in order.  Charlie took water, high energy snacks and assorted other possible trail necessities.  Walt and Billy did similarly, only they also slipped handguns into holsters that were hidden by their long camouflage shirts.

“What are you guys carrying?” Charlie asked.  “We’re not going out there to shoot anything, you know.”

“I’ve got a .44 Mag.  The most powerful handgun made” Walt said in a gravelly voice, imitating Clint Eastwood in the movie Dirty Harry.  “No, I don’t expect to shoot anything, but you never know when you might surprise a momma bear and her cubs, or a full-grown bear that thinks you look good for dinner.  This cannon might not stop a big one, but it’ll damn sure make him pay for his dinner.”

“I feel like a runt with only this .357 Mag”  Billy added.  “But it’ll give Yogi Bear even more to think about.  Although I think that he’d choke on your unsavory ass.”  He chucked a pine cone at Walt, who batted it out of the air with the back of his hand and reached, as if going for his sidearm.  Billy did likewise and Charlie said “Oh, shit.  I’m in the woods with John Wayne and Marshall Dillon.  God help me!”

“Give your soul to god” Walt said.  “‘Cause your ass belongs to me” and he squared off as if preparing for a duel.

“OK” Charlie said.  “You two are scaring me now.  Let’s get moving; I’ll feel safer out there with the bears.”

All three laughed and began to hike down the same road that they had travelled on the day before.  The sun soon began to rise in the sky, warming the air and beating down on their heads.  The hangover that Charlie thought he might have dodged began to rise with the heat and exertion, and soon he was wishing that he had some aspirin, another swallow of the whiskey, or a head transplant.  “It’ll pass” he muttered to himself more loudly than he thought he had.

“What’s that?” Walt asked.

“Ah, just mu head.  It feels like I’ve got Mel Gibson running away from Tina Turner in it.”

“You’re a wuss” Walt laughed.

“So you’re doing just fine I suppose?” Charlie asked.

“Don’t listen to him” Billy interjected.  “I heard him praying to the porcelain god last night.  He just blew all of his liquor out.  Old Vietnam dudes never could hold their sauce, especially the 173rd.”

“Oh, look who’s talking.  They sent you 25th Div pansies to a country where there ain’t no alcohol ‘cause they knew you couldn’t handle it and fight a real man’s war.”

“Real man’s war, shit!” Billy laughed.  “Half of the people in Vietnam liked you guys.  All of those fuckers in Iraq hated us.  Besides, I got your ‘real man’s war’ hangin’.  You want him, you just come a-sangin’.”

“Holy shit, shut up you two.  Your heads may not feel like they’re about to explode, but mine does.”

“Oh, make no mistake about it” Billy said, and then the two veterans pointed at each other and said in unison “His does too.”

They spoke a little less after that and continued to walk down the road.  Billy rested from time to time, but surprisingly he seemed to be less affected by the exertions today than he had been the day before.  “It’s the trail candy” he explained, showing them a bottle of Tylenol that he had in his pocket.

“Hey, don’t bogart that shit!” Walt said.  “Pass a little of it over to me.”

“I thought your head didn’t hurt” Billy said.

“Fuck that.  I’m sixty nine years old and tromping around in the woods.  My head’s fine, but my body’s hurting.  You need to learn a little respect.”

“You earn it and I’ll give it” Billy said with a smirk as he handed over the pain killer.

“Are you ladies ever going to shut up?” Charlie asked.  “Give me some of those.”  After taking a couple of the tablets and washing them down with some water he pointed to the place about  fifty yards up the road from where they stood.  “You want to go back to the same spot we were at yesterday?”

“No” Billy replied.  I was thinking about trying for that ridge up there.”

He pointed to a low, forested ridge that ran parallel to higher hills on the other side of the valley where they had looked for wildlife the day before.

“That looks like two, maybe three hundred feet” Walt said.  Maybe one and half klicks away.  Are you sure, young man?”

“Yeah, I’m feeling pretty good today.”  He then looked at Charlie and finally admitted “Except for the zombie apocalypse that’s going on between my ears.  I’ll let you know when I feel like I’m approaching my limits.”

“Why Walt!  I do believe that you actually care about Billy, or are my ears deceiving me?” Charlie exclaimed.

“Fuck your ears” Walt shot back.  “I just don’t want to have to carry his heavy ass back.”

“Don’t try to shit a shitter, man” Billy said.  “You’d just leave me out here and you know it.”

“Arggghh!” Charlie groaned.  “Let’s get going!  Only walking seems to shut you two up.”

Walt and Billy both threw pebbles at Charlie and as they prepared to begin talking again they heard a shot in the distance.  “Huh!  Some bastard’s getting an early start” Walt opined.

“Or maybe sighting his piece” Billy offered.

They began walking and in a few minutes heard another shot.  “I just hope they stay wherever they are” Charlie said.  “This camo may not have been the best thing to wear.”

“Shit” Billy replied.  “You could be wearing an orange construction barrel and those crazy bastards would shoot at you anyway.  ‘Bout all we can do is keep our eyes and ears open and our fingers crossed.”

They became more silent as they stepped off of the road and onto the valley floor.  There was no path here and the ground, which looked flat from a distance, was in fact made irregular by clumps of grass, prairie dog holes and occasional rocks that were nearly buried in the valley floor.  The change in terrain offered little challenge to Walt and Charlie, but Billy had to walk carefully,and this slowed them down.  Neither Walt nor Charlie commented on this.  Billy was determined to wring the most out of their experience that he could.  Charlie respected this, and he thought it looked like Walt did too.

After a slow transit of the valley they reached the base of the rise which led to the ridge from which they hoped to get a look at some wildlife.  With Billy’s binoculars they knew that they would see it if it was there.

“I have to take five” Billy said, and Charlie broke out the chair.  He and Walt sat on a fallen tree while billy gave his leg a rest.  They chattered softly while they waited for Billy to recover sufficiently to make the next climb towards the top.

“I can make it up to that ridge” he said.  “The fallen timber will be a problem though.  I don’t step over stuff as good as I used to.  I’ll have to go around things instead of over them.  You guys can go ahead, if you get tired of waiting for me.  Just drop some bread crumbs.”

“Aw, shut up, gimp” Walt said.  “I ain’t leaving nobody behind.  Never did, never will.”

Charlie sat silently and thought about his two companions.  Walt was more than thirty years older than Billy and unrelated, but the two interacted as if they were brothers.  They bickered and insulted each other in ways that would make anybody who didn’t know them worry that a fist fight was imminent.  But the connection between these two men, forged in the fires of hellish combat and tempered by their common struggle to come to grips with a world that couldn’t begin to understand what they had experienced or how hard they must work in order to be able to fit back into that world, was a bond that was stronger than the metal that had ripped through both of their bodies.

Walt had returned to a society where many had spat at him and wished that he would have died in the jungles of Vietnam.  Billy had returned to a new society that politely said “Thank you for your service,” and then quickly forgot that he existed, hurt and struggling to regain his balance.  It’s possible that the second was worse than the first.

Charlie thought of his own struggle; how he had looked upon the battered and lifeless body of his beloved daughter, lost everything that he had, including his will to live, and only stayed alive by the – what, providential? – intervention of a cranky borderline sociopath veteran, a Jewish Christian young woman, an overworked waitress in a downtown greasy spoon restaurant, and a soft-spoken counselor with great kitchen skills and laser beam insights into the heart of the matter.  Charlie felt like he owed these people more than they could ever know.

“All right” Walt finally said as he stood up.  “Let’s get – – – Shit!”

Standing ten feet to the side of Walt was a man in the green and khaki uniform of a game warden, who had moved up on them without making the slightest sound or giving away his presence in any manner.  Walt’s hand instinctively moved towards the weapon that he had concealed under his camo shirt.

“Please don’t do that, sir” the warden said, placing his hand on the butt of his own sidearm.

“What the fuck do you mean, sneaking up on people?” Walt growled at the agent.  The agent replied by simply repeating his request.

“Sir, please move your hand away from your side.”

Billy rose up out of his chair to take a stand beside his friend.  The warden clearly did not like this development and said “I’m going to need for both of you to keep your hands where I can see them, and I’m going to need for you all to sit down on that log.”

“And I’m going to need for you to kiss my ass and telll the world that you like it” replied a thoroughly incensed Walt.  Billy then began to edge off to his right, increasing the distance between him and Walt and making it harder for the warden to cover  both men.

Charlie knew that this was getting way out of control and would, in all likelihood, end badly.  “Walt! Billy!  This guy’s a game warden” he said.  “He’s out here doing his job.”

“I don’t know who the fuck he is and I don’t care who the fuck he is” Walt replied.  “He just sneaks up on us with his hand on his gun.  he can just fuck himself and go wherever the hell he came from, as far as I’m concerned.”

The warden’s face, which already looked hard as flint, seemed to ratchet a notch even tighter.  “What the hell should I do” Charlie asked himself, and then a thought squeezed into his nearly paralyzed mind.

“Wait, everybody.  Just wait one minute, OK?”  He looked at the warden and asked “This is about the shots that we heard, what” – he turned and asked Walt and Billy – “about an hour ago?”

The warden never moved his eyes off Billy and Walt, nor shifted his hand away from the butt of his gun.  He answered, saying “Yes, there were shots reported.  They were reported to be heard somewhere around here.  You are somewhere around here.  That makes me wonder about you.  Makes me want to see your hands clear of your body, too.”

“Walt,” Charlie implored.  “Billy.  You guys have heard a shot or two before.  Where do you think those came from?  For Christ’s sake, you talk military all the time, so military this.  What can you tell the warden about those shots?”

“The two veterans’ attention on the warden seemed to waver just a bit.  Billy looked at Walt and slightly shrugged his shoulders.  “There weren’t this many trees in the whole damned country of Iraq” he said.  “My guess is that way” and he nodded his head toward the left, up an extension of the valley that they had just crossed.

“Plenty of trees in Vietnam” Walt said, keeping his eyes on the warden.  “But you’re right.  To the southwest.  Can’t tell the distance or direction of fire.  Too many echoes in the valley.”

“What type of weapon, Walt?” Charlie asked.  “Could you tell what kind of weapon was being used?”

“Billy answered before Walt could.  “Small caliber, probably a long gun.  That was the first one, anyway.  Couldn’t tell about the second; muffled by something.

The warden saw Charlie’s attempt to engage his friends in something other than a wild west shoot out, and saw his two potential adversaries responding to Charlie’s intervention.  He decided to follow up with his own questions.

“You men military?” he asked.  Walt and Billy nodded in the affirmative.

“Then you know that a warden approaching a party of men who are probably armed in an area where poaching is almost certainly going on will be quiet and cannot afford to be careless, right?”

“Of course that’s right!” Charlie exclaimed.  “The second shot.  That was a hand gun, if I was to make a guess.  A small caliber rifle that will make less noise was used to injury the prey and the coup de grace was administered with a large caliber hand gun.  The sound of that will carry even less distance than the rifle.  That’s how it works, isn’t it warden?”

“That’s about the way of it” said the warden.

“And we’re here with a couple of handguns” Charlie continued.  Guys, it  makes sense.  This man’s only doing his job and trying to not get himself killed in the process.  Don’t you think we should help him do this?  I can’t stand a damned poacher anyway.”

Walt and Billy looked at each other for a moment.  It was Billy who finally said “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”  He looked back at the warden and asked “How do you want to do this?”

The warden did not look like he had relaxed very much.  He began to give instructions to Billy.  “You will carefully lift your shirt.  I will remove your weapon and examine it to see if it has been recently fired.  If that is not the case then I have no further need to impose upon your time and we can all go on about our business.

Billy nodded his assent and reached slowly for the edge of his camp shirt.

“One at a time” instructed the warden.

Charlie could see a ‘fuck you’ formed on Walt’s lips, but to his relief the phrase was not expressed.  Billy slowly raised his shirt and the warden walked carefully over to him and extracted the gun.  He opened the cylinder and saw that it contained a full load of live rounds.  He smelled the weapon and looked for new powder residue.  Billy kept a clean weapon, and it was quickly obvious to the expert eyes of the warden that this weapon had not been recently fired.

“Now you, sir” the warden said to Walt.

“Come on, Walt” Billy said.  “We got this thing all wrong.  Let’s everybody go home happy today, OK?”

Walt relaxed slightly but visibly.  He moved to raise his shirt, a little too quick for the warden’s comfort, and exposed the .44.  The warden repeated the process and determined that this weapon had not been fired either.

“Thank you for your cooperation, gentlemen” he said at last.  “That’s a magnificent weapon you have there, sir” he said to Walt.  “So you say that you heard those shots to the southwest?”

“That’s right” Billy said.  “Isn’t it Walt?  What d’you say, maybe a klick?

“No more’n that” Walt replied.  “And if they’re skinning a buck, they’re probably still there or not far away.”

“More likely a doe, the bastards” Billy said.  “Poachers aren’t usually picky.”

“Well, thank you for your cooperation” the warden said to them.  “I’m sorry for disturbing your day.  I think I’ll see if I can pay our friends a visit now.  Military, eh”  What branch?”

“Army” they answered in unison.

“173rd Airborne” Walt said.  Vietnam.

“25th Div” Billy echoed.  “Mosul, Iraq.”

“2nd Armored” the warden said.  “Tiger Brigade.  Gulf war.”

“The Tiger Brigade!  You boys kicked some serious ass” Billy noted after giving a low whistle.  “Tank warfare.  That would be sweet.  You can see the bastard that’s trying to kill you.”

“It has its ups and downs” the warden said.  “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Would you like a little back-up?” Walt asked.  He was beginning to get a clearer view of what had just happened, and what almost just happened.

 

“No thank you, gentlemen” he answered.  “I do this thing best when I do it my own way.”  He then turned to walk away but after a few steps stopped and turned back to face the men and said “Since you’re only out here to see the game, I spotted a nice elk bull with a couple of cows off a bit to the north of west.  You climb up that ridge, you should be able to see them if you have a decent set of field glasses.”  Billy held up his Zeiss binoculars.  “Yeah, you should see them just fine with those.  You all have a very nice day now.”

The warden disappeared into the forest and left the three men staring silently.  At last Charlie exhaled loudly and sat back down on the log.  He looked at his hands, which were trembling, and then looked up at the two men who stared silently at him.

“What’s the matter,” he asked.  “Haven’t you ever seen a guy who has nearly shit his pants before?  What the hell’s the matter with you two?  That was a U.S. Fucking Fish and Wildlife guy, or a Washington State Fucking Fish and Wildlife guy, and you wanna play Gunsmoke with him?  Shit!  Even if you win, the President or the Governor or whoever is that guy’s boss will bring the full weight of the establishment on top of your asses, or just take you out here and shoot you and feed you to the fish.”

“When I was in combat some guys really did shit their pants – – -“ Walt began to say, but Charlie cut him off.

“Oh no, man.  I don’t want to hear any more fucking war stories just now, OK?”

Charlie began to shake more violently.  Billy approached him tentatively and knelt down next to him.  “Charlie” he began.  “You’re right.  We screwed up.  That guy came out of nowhere and spooked Walt.  Me too, to tell the truth.  He had a piece on him and seemed to be  threatening us, or it looked that way to both of us.  So we reacted.  Didn’t react well, I guess, but we reacted.  I’m sorry.

Look, this is the load that I’m carrying.  Walt is carrying his own, and I won’t try to describe his.  It’s hard to let it go.  ‘Kill or be killed.’  I know that you’ve heard that phrase.  With us, it means more than it does for others; for people who haven’t been where we’ve been.  It really means that you have to make somebody be dead or they’ll make you be dead.  I’m working hard to put that behind me.  Walt is too.  But it never really goes away.  You try to put that animal in a cage.  I try to put that animal in a cage every day.  But you can’t kill it.  It just won’t die.”

Charlie wrestled to get his shakes under control, and at last he looked at his two friends and said “OK.  I guess I just learned a little about your problems today.  I have my own shit to deal with, like I don’t like to even see the ocean since Stevie died, or see much of anything from my old life.  I guess I didn’t realize how deep your pain runs.  I’m sorry I popped off, but jeez, fellows, next time could you pick on a smaller guy that’s packing only a slingshot?”

“We’ll try” Billy said with the first chuckle that anyone had managed since the confrontation had begun.  “Just for you.  Now, let’s go see if we can find that bull and his harem.”

The three men began to pick their way through the forest obstacles as they made their way up the hill to the ridge.  Walt’s estimate was pretty close, and from a height of about three hundred feet above the valley floor they had a commanding view of that valley in three directions.  Two low ranges of scrub and tree covered hills split that valley into three wide spokes as if of a wheel radiating from a hub that was their place on the west end of the ridge.

Billy was gassed by the time they reached that point.  Charlie quickly opened up the chair for him and he plopped unceremoniously into it and popped a couple of Tylenol tablets into his mouth.

“Don’t take too much of that” Charlie said.  “It’s hard on your liver.”

“Thanks Mom” Billy replied.  “It’s my damned leg that’s my first concern at this present time.  Here” he handed the binoculars to Walt.  “See if you can see anything down there.”

Walt began to scan the valley floor in the direction that the warden said he had seen the elk, but without luck.  He scanned more to the south, looking for the warden, but knew that he wasn’t likely to see him.  “Crafty son of a bitch” he muttered.”

“What’s that?” Charlie asked.

“Oh, nothing.  I was just trying to see which way Ranger Rick was going.  The man knows how to move in the woods pretty good.  That’s impressive, for a Tanker.”

“I’ll bet he grew up here” Billy said, “or somewhere a lot like here.  I followed some tanks in Iraq.  Big suckers.   Bigger than those cracker boxes you followed in The Nam.  The guys pushing those things had steel balls.”

“Yeah, you’re right about that” Walt allowed.  “I hung with the guys from the 11th Armored Cav.  Crazy sons of bitches, and always ready for a fight.”

Charlie was thoroughly tired of hearing war stories by this point in the day, but he didn’t want to complain about it.  He had already chewed his two friends out and didn’t want to continue down that road.  ‘Let me have a peek” he finally said, not being able to think of anything else to say.  Walt handed him the binoculars and Charlie began to scan the valley.

He, too, began by looking for the warden.  That one man was going up the valley somewhere looking for a party of at least one armed man and probably more that was engaged in an illegal activity and would not fare well if he, or they, were caught.  Charlie felt a chill of dread for the warden and a deep admiration for his commitment to his job.  “Godspeed, officer what’s your name” he thought, and then he saw movement out of the right side of his field of view.

“Hey guys” Charlie said, pointing without putting down the glasses.  “A quarter of the way up the side of the first foothill of that mountain with two peaks.”

He passed the glasses quickly to Billy, who found the two peaks and then scanned down to the foothills and found the clearing in the thick woods.  “Yeah!  I see them!  Yeah!  Good eye, Charlie.”

“Gimme an look” pleaded Walt, and Billy passed the glasses over to him.  It took only a minute for Walt to find the clearing and then the elk that had moved fully into it.  “Son of a bitch, ain’t he something?” Walt asked.  “That’s one hell of a bull.  Shit, man, I don’t know if I could shoot his ass; good looking character like that.”

Walt became aware of the silence and put down the binoculars.  Charlie and Billy were looking at him with frank amazement all over their faces.  “What?” he asked.  “What’re you two apes looking at?”

“Why, Walt.  I believe that you are showing compassion” Charlie said.  “I’m not sure I know how to handle that.”

“Don’t get carried away” Walt said.  “I get hungry, I’m shooting him faster than white of rice.”

“Forget that, man” Billy said.  “I just saw you give a shit about something.  What day is this?  Yeah, Seventh of September.  I’m putting this in my journal.”

“You can put it up your ass” Walt growled, and returned to looking through the glasses.

“Hey, come on, Bogie.  Lemme look” Billy said as he picked up a stick and poked Walt in the ribs with it. Walt handed the binoculars to Billy, saying “Here.  Play with these so that you won’t play with yourself.”

Billy studied the clearing off in the distance and made occasional sounds of admiration.  At last he handed the binoculars to Charlie and said “Here.  They’re about out of sight.”

Charlie picked up the animals, which were near an edge of the clearing.  The bull raised his head and bellowed at the cows, who crowded around him and passed into the cover of the forest.  The regal elk gave the area one last close look, and then seemed to look directly back at Charlie over the many hundreds of yards that separated the two species, before moving with a stately grace into the covering forest.  After a minute of staring at where the elk had disappeared, Charlie put down the glasses.

“Son of a bitch” he said.  “I wouldn’t shoot him either.  That guy’s been through the wars, and I wouldn’t be the guy to take him out!”

After giving Billy time to rest, they began to trace their way back down the hill.  the ankle motion necessary to go downhill was harder on Billy than the ascent had been, and by the time that they reached the valley floor he was hobbling badly.

“You going to make it?” Walt asked, and he was not joking this time.

“I’ll make it” Billy replied through gritted teeth.  I just can’t say how long that’ll take me.”

“Well, there’s no hurry” Charlie said.  “You have a seat on that log and let’s have a bit to eat.”  He passed out some energy bars and then pulled out the half pint bottle of whiskey.  “Oh, look what I found” he said. “Maybe this will help things along.”

All three took a pull off of the bottle. Walt handed it back to Charlie, who  stashed it in his pack and they chatted while the snacks and whiskey did their work.  After a short while Billy emerged from his chair, more through determination than being actually prepared for more exertion, and said “Let’s get home.  I think I need some real food.”

It was early evening when the three men returned to camp.  Billy sat in his chair while Walt and Charlie packed away their gear in the back of the van.

“Still no way that I can drive?” Charlie asked.

“Up yours” Walt responded predictably.

“OK.  Let’s get the hell out of hear.”

They drove out of the forest, crossing over gravel and paved roads until they at last gained the state highway that led to the town of Colville.  The Acorn Saloon provided thick steaks and mashed potatoes and gravy and mug after mug of strong coffee.

“We should be home in six hours” Walt said as they paid up and returned to the van with a thermos full of the Acorn’s hot coffee.  “Unless I decide to drive to great little whorehouse that I know about in Yakima”

“Yeah.  Right.  Whatever” Billy said.  “Just get me home first.  Then you can go screw yourself for all I care.”

Walt laughed as he fired his van up and pulled out of the parking lot onto the pavement and then down U.S. Highway 395 toward Spokane, and beyond that back home to Vancouver.

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