Read Under Suspicion - The Legend of D.B. Cooper Page 16
Clifford looked at his watch again as he sat next to the newly repaired trail. Where is Buck? he wondered. He had expected him to be back hours ago. It’d be dark in a few hours, and they didn’t have a camp setup yet. A moment later, a mule’s whinny drew his attention up the trail.
Getting up, Clifford walked over to Buck as he rode towards him. “What happened to you?” Clifford asked, looking him over. Buck’s clothes were still wet and mud caked, and his skin was pale with the tips of his fingers and nose turning blue.
“That damn flyboy nearly broke my neck!” he replied with a shiver. “It took me nearly two hours to get the mules back together before I could make my pick up.”
Clifford looked back at the mules. The bags that were previously empty were now all half full and hung neatly from each mule’s pack. “You must be freezing,” Clifford remarked.
“I’m not so bad anymore. I’ve had some help from an old friend,” Buck answered, as he lifted a near empty bottle of Jim Beam and drained the last of it into his mouth.
Clifford saw Buck’s body shivering. Buck returned the empty bottle to the saddlebag and remove a new full one.
“Just the same, we’d better start a fire and get you into some dry clothes.”
“Let’s head down to that camp we saw earlier. Those jerks should be long gone by now, and they had plenty of fire wood collected.” Buck’s words slurred out of his mouth in reply. Nodding in agreement, Clifford mounted his mule and followed Buck down the trail.
They were moving awfully slow, or so it seemed to Clifford, as he watched Bucks body slump in the saddle as if asleep. He was glad that at least the mules knew where they were going. Buck started to hum a tune as he rode, and Clifford rolled his eyes in amusement, hoping Buck wouldn’t start singing.
It didn’t take long to get to the camp, and, as expected, it was deserted. It looked like a tornado had hit it. Things were thrown everywhere. Full and empty food containers, clothes, and some equipment lay all around them. A pile of wood sat next to the still smoldering embers of the fire pit.
Clifford dismounted, then helped Buck off his mule. Without help, Clifford was able to get the fire going again while Buck changed into dry cloths. After only a few minutes in front of the fire, Buck felt better. He still shivered a little, but the color was coming back to his skin and he wasn’t nursing quite so much from his bottle.
“We’d better get this place cleaned up, and set up camp before it gets dark,” Buck remarked with a renewed vigor. Stumbling drunkenly around to the other side of one of the mules, Buck began removing a pack. As he stepped back, he tripped falling backwards onto the ground and into a pile of trash. The loud clanking of tin cans drew Clifford’s attention. He turned to see half the contents of the bag spill out on top of Buck, then mix with the surrounding garbage. Rushing over to him, Clifford helped Buck to his feet.
“I’ll do this, why don’t you sit by the fire and get dinner ready,” he suggested. Buck nodded. Clifford watched as Buck made his way back to the fire and sat down before he turned his attention to the garbage. Grabbing the bag, he began picking items up one at a time and putting them in.
What’s this? He wondered, kneeling down to get a closer look. A shiny object the size and shape of a brick covered with aluminum foil and cellophane lay next to him. Clifford picked it up and examined it more closely. Opening one corner, he looked at the dark brown contents, and then smelled it.
His eyes opened wide as he recognized the smell. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it reminded him of a drug one of his friends had showed him at a party once. Clifford smelled it again. It was much darker in color and the odor was stronger than the stuff he’d seen before, but he was sure it was drugs.
Clifford remembered that just a small amount of the substance at the party was much too expensive for him to try. His jaw dropped open as he looked at its size and felt its weight. He was sure it was worth a fortune! Instantly, visions of a hot sports car and the popularity that came with it filled his mind.
“Hey Clifford! Look what I found!” An excited voice called from behind him. Clifford looked over his shoulder to see Buck with a big smile holding up a couple of fishing poles and a tackle box. “Those guys must’ve been so scared. They’d left their heads if they weren’t attached!”
Making sure to keep the package out of Bucks view, he slipped it into his jacket. “Boy, I’ll say,” he replied in agreement. He watched Buck turn around and head back to the fire where he stirred something in a pot. Clifford couldn’t believe his luck. He quickly stuffed the rest of the garbage into the bag, then set out to unpack the mules and set up the tent.