A gust of wind hit Buck and his mule head on as they emerged from the trees and into the clearing. A small rain shower swept through the area during the night, just recently breaking up. Examining the low clouds, he pulled his collar up, then tugged his Stetson tighter on his head. The wind will blow the rest of the storm away this morning, he thought as he looked around. Noon at the latest, he nodded confidently. A red-tail hawk floated almost motionless on the air currents above the clearing, watching it like a silent sentry.
Wrapped loosely in Buck’s leather-gloved hand, a rope led back down the trail to a string of three pack mules. Moving slowly behind him, each mule’s back carried an aluminum frame. Attached to each frame were gray canvas packs. Some were filled with camping gear, while several others were empty, rolled and tied up neatly. An assortment of tools, necessary for trail repair, was also attached securely to the frames.
Clifford’s mule was the last of the train. They’d only been riding for a couple of hours, but his butt and his back were already sore. With every lazy step the old mule took, Clifford shifted his weight from side to side. He couldn’t wait to get off. Why couldn’t we use dirt bikes or ATVs? he thought. Now that would be more fun. Instead, he was riding at a snails pace up a trail with nothing better to look at than a line of mule butts.
“I can crawl faster than this,” he spat in frustration to his mule. “When we get back to the cabin, I’m going to call the processing plant and have you turned into dog food.” They were falling behind, or so it seemed to Clifford, who was growing more impatient by the minute. He gave the mule a kick in the ribs and tried to drive it with the bridle.
“Let’s go, dog food, pick up the pace.” He received an angry whinny in reply.
“Let Molly have her head, Clifford. She knows this trail by heart,” Buck said without turning around.
That only added to Clifford’s frustration. Trying not to draw anymore attention to his inexperience, Clifford changed the subject.
“Hey, Uncle Buck.”
“Yeah.”
“What are all of the empty packs for?”
“They’re for the garbage the hikers left behind, like I explained before.”
“Yeah, but there are so many of them. Do you really expect that much trash?”
“No.” Buck chuckled. “But its nice to have a few extras on hand just in case you run into a real slob.”
They continued with the small talk for awhile, but it was just too difficult from so far away. Clifford wished he hadn’t listened to Buck when he told him to leave his Gameboy at the cabin. He could be getting some serious Mario Brothers marathon action right now.
He looked at the sky and begged for some excitement. A moment later, he noticed Buck stop the pack train and look at the trail. Molly came to an abrupt halt behind the pack mules. Clifford watched Buck look slowly up and down the trail, then toward the brush on the side hill.
“What’s wrong?” Clifford asked. Buck didn’t answer. He just got off his mule, and looked at the ground. Clifford did the same, walking over to him.
“Someone’s been through here recently, these tracks weren’t here a few days ago,” Buck told Clifford in a concerned voice as he pointed to a path stomped out in the grass leading away from the trail.
“Could it be deer?” Clifford asked.
“Not unless deer started wearing boots.” Buck pointed to a waffle imprint in the dirt just off the trail. Buck closed his eyes, and lifting his head in the air, he took a deep breath. After a moment he nodded decisively. “Yeah, they’re still back there.”
“How can you tell?”
“There’s a slight smell of smoke. They’ve got a campfire burning.”
Clifford sniffed the air, but couldn’t smell anything. “Maybe they didn’t see the closure sign at the trail head,” he said. “It was only put up yesterday.”
“Maybe,” Buck replied, doubtfully. “I guess we’ll have to go in and let them know what’s going on.” Buck pulled the train off the trail, and tied them up to a tree. He and Clifford then got back on their mules to follow the path. A couple of hundred yards later, they could see the camp.
“Hello in camp!” Buck yelled as they rode slowly in. Instantly, a black man with an Uzi emerged from the tent followed by two Asian teenagers with pistols. Buck stopped his mule, and Clifford rode up next to him. Clifford’s eyes widened in surprise at seeing the weapons, but said nothing.
“What do you want, old man?” Tommy asked, rudely.
“First of all this isn’t an established Forest Services camp site. If you want to camp up here you’ll have to use one of the sites along the main trail,” Buck replied as he watched the two teenagers slowly move to flanking positions on either side of him and Clifford. Buck kept his cool as he looked around wondering what he had ridden into.
“Is that all?” Tommy asked, impatiently.
Buck’s attention was drawn back to the man in front of the tent. “No, that’s not all,” Buck replied, trying to sound more professional than mad. “This trail’s been closed due to bear activity in the area. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
“Yeah, well last I checked this is still a free country, and this is public land so we can be here if we want,” Tommy said, nastily. “Besides, we’re not afraid of bears. We’ve got protection.” Lifting his hand, he showed off the shiny black mini-machine gun.
Buck calmly leaned back in his saddle, pulled a cigar from his shirt pocket, and lit it up. “Listen son.” His eyes narrowed slightly as he leaned forward again looking into the man’s eyes. “Have you ever seen what happens to a man when he comes between a mad mother grizzly and her cubs?”
Tommy didn’t answer, he just starred back confidently.
“Well I have,” Buck continued. “Can you imagine a paw the size of a garbage can lid with six-inch, knife blade like claws taking a swat at you? Rip your head clean off. Heck, those little pea shooters of yours will only make her angry.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Buck could see Clifford and the two teenagers looking around nervously, but the man in front of him stayed cool.
“Look at all this food and garbage you’ve left laying around.” Buck went on as he pointed to the half empty cans of food next to the fire. “With this breeze, you’re advertising. I bet those grizzlies are on their way here right now, reading the menu as they go.”
Lifting his head in the air as if imitating the bears, he took a deep breath and smiled. “Mmm, spaghettios, with three city boys for desert.” Buck laughed heartily, but didn’t take his eyes off the man with the Uzi.
Instantly, the tent door flew open. A gust of wind pulled the canvas flap over the top of the tent as a frightened young teenage girl ran out to the black man.
“Tommy! You promised you’d protect me!” she yelled hysterically, grabbing his arm. “Let’s get out of here! Do what he says! Please! Tommy, please!”
Clifford looked at her closely in her dirty tight shorts and tank top. She was so skinny and pale, and wasn’t wearing a bra, he noticed immediately. Still, she was kind of cute even with messed up hair. Clifford looked at her blood shot eyes, and could tell she’d been crying. Without knowing why, he felt sorry for her.
The two Asian boys rushed in to close up the tent. Buck looked inside as they reached up to grab the canvas door. There was a long table with sleeping bags around it. On one end of the table were several packages, the size and shape of baseballs, wrapped in aluminum foil and cellophane. A couple of them were unwrapped and looked like cream colored play dough.
In the middle of the table was a large mixing bowl with wooden spoons and a pastry cutter. On the far end sat a small scale and a large number of small plastic bags filled with white powder. Under the table were two backpacks loaded with these same bags of powder. Lines of the powder were on a small mirror next to the scale. Buck’s eyes narrowed, putting two and two together. Just then, Tommy was able to peel the frightened g
irl off him.
“Shut up and stay in the tent like I told you!” He yelled as he grabbed her by the arm and pushed her back down onto the floor of the tent. Her body hit the table knocking plastic bags on top of her. She looked up at Tommy, frightened and crying, as the door flap came down in front of her. Tommy turned his attention back to Buck.
“What are you looking at?!” he scowled. As his two companions joined him, he returned to the subject at hand. “If the bears are so dangerous, what are you doing up here?”
Buck again returned his attention to the man in front of him. “We’re here to fix the trail. Parts of it have been washed out by the rains.”
“What type of gun are you carrying?” Tommy asked, trying to determine what he was up against.
Buck was getting tired of the interrogation, but tried not to let it show. “I don’t need a gun. You see, I know what they smell like so I can avoid ’em,” he said as he sat high in the saddle and smelled the air, again. “Yes sir, they’re close by. If you guys want to stay here, suit yourselves, but I think its time we leave.” Buck gently turned his mule around, and Clifford did the same. “You boys have a good day,” he said without looking back.
Tommy watched them ride out of camp. His two companions quickly turned to him with questioning looks.
“What about the bears, Tommy? Maybe we should move the camp,” one of them said.
“Forget about the bears,” Tommy ordered confidently. “Stupid animals don’t concern me, but those two guys do.”
“They’re leaving, they won’t bother us,” the other teenager spoke up.
“They know we’re up here, you fool,” Tommy snapped angrily. “What if they tell someone? Our location’s been compromised, it’s time for us to get out of here. Pack up everything you can carry in one trip. We’re going back to the city.”
The two quickly turned and entered the tent. Tommy watched the riders disappear into the brush. It was only then that he allowed himself to look around at the garbage on the ground, then to the surrounding trees. Lifting his nose into the air, he took a deep breath, but smelt nothing. With another scowl he shook his head then turned and entered the tent.