Artifact 8: Raynor the Investigator

The so-called "bump in the night" might be explained when Raynor returned to the Triple R.

Artifact 8: Raynor the Investigator

 

            Driving his old, rattily hand-me-down pickup truck, Raynor bumped and jostled up the lane to the Triple R slightly faster than usual with the ever-present dust cloud following him up to the ranch homestead. Driving the last dusty mile to the ranch-house yard, either his sixth sense had worth or his concern had built to a peak�"he knew there was something to worry about. Possibly it was intuition or something he felt back at the diner with his neighbor’s odd behavior, but he had a feeling that apparently carried some weight.

            As he drew up, he immediately saw that his worry had been warranted. What he saw made him shake his head. He saw his three ranch hands standing in the shaded yard with four horses. What struck Raynor cold was the fact that his elderly, unsteady father stood with them holding himself up with his cane while grasping Raynor’s horse lead. His father had his hat and chaps on like he was prepared to ride. What the hell is he thinking, and what the hell is going on here?

As he slowed and pulled to a stop in front of the porch, the cloud of trailing dust caught up with him and engulfed the truck. He studied the small group as he got out of the truck trying to figure out what or who could have possibly convinced his father to dress for a ride when he hadn’t been on a horse for years. The normally easygoing ranch hands appeared worried and agitated, but what bothered Raynor was his father out there. Besides his permanently bent back, his father leaned hard on his cane studying the ground because he probably knew that Raynor would lay into him about his declining health and the danger of riding a horse at his age

“Pa what’s going on here?” Raynor said with an edge.

            “Jefe! La avion estrellarse oeste cerca de Senor Thompson’s rancho!”  Interrupted Jose breathlessly, pointing and waving to the west.

“Que?”  Raynor asked, turning to the west and looking out, understanding completely but not fully believing that an airplane had crashed somewhere out there. Was this the so-called bump in the night?

            “Ray, son,” his father said rather meekly. Being bent over, he turned his head aside to face Raynor. “They’ve been goin’ on and on about a plane crash or something out on the west side 40 pasture near Thompson’s spread.” He coughed a couple times.

            “Never mind them, Pa; what are you thinking, tacking up the horse and getting ready for a ride? You know you can’t ride with your bad back and your rumatis.” He scanned the antsy ranch hands. “Besides you know I’d be back before noon, you could’ve just put them off.”

            “Yeah, I know son, but the boys were so damned keyed up and dogged,” he coughed. “They wanted you, but then told me I needed to go�"right away�"to investigate this, this crash or whatever it is!” He gestured with his bent veiny hand. “It musta been what�"I heard in the night.” He started with coughing fit and bent over leaning hard with both arms on his cane. “Besides�"they tacked up Star�"not me.”

            That didn’t reassure Raynor at all taking in his father’s condition. “Easy pa, easy,” Raynor said, stepping to his father’s side to rub the old man’s back. The coughing subsided.

            “The other night�"”

            “Last night, you mean,” Raynor corrected.

            “Don’t patronize me, boy!” his father said surprisingly sharp. He hacked once hard. “Last night, I heard a thump�"thought it was a coyot’ on the porch. Thought nuthin’ of it.”

            “Fine, fine, pa. Let’s get you inside.”

            “Phsaw! Just set me on the porch, I’ll be fine and dandy watching what unfolds round here.” He looked at the ranch hands fidgeting around. “See whatever these boys think they saw.” He coughed and hacked.

            Raynor started to help his father to porch, but the ranch hands couldn’t contain themselves any longer as they followed along.

            “Jefe. Jefe. El avion, El avion es estrellarse en la tierra.” Jose said, a little slower, a little calmer than before but still obviously agitated. He gesticulated dramatically by moving both arms out in circles with palms turned down and then imitated a plane nose down toward the ground with one hand adding crashing sound effects. Raynor eyed Jose and listened as he helped his father step up on the porch. His father sat down heavily with a groan.

            “Be off with you boy. Go see what they’re goin’ on about,” his father said, with a wave.

            Raynor saw that Martinez held two horses tacked up, one was his horse Star, short for White Star Liner that he had taken from his father. Raynor looked and noticed the three men’s horses were hot and sweaty from some heavy, fast riding. 

            “Donde es y veo gente en el estrellarse avion o tierra?”

            “No se gente jefe, no via en toto o cerano. Es oueste y norte el pozo de aqua numero dice tres.” Raynor envisioned where well house number 13 was located�"a quite remote and rough grazing ground not far from Thompson’s fence line.

            “Vali, agua para los caballos?” He swung his pointed third finger to the three sweaty horses.

            “Si, Si bebe mucho aqui, y aqua para usted and nostostras.” Martinez turned Star to show the canteens strapped onto the horse. 

            “All right, let’s go�"vamose!” Raynor said.

He took Star’s reins from Martinez and circled her off to the side. He checked Star’s girth, cinched her up a bit more, and pulled down the weighty stirrups. Raynor made a mental note of equipment and noted that he didn’t have his spurs on his boots, but he didn’t need them in a lurch like this. He saw saddlebags stowed on the three men’s horses that always contained tools and minor provisions. Star stood like a statue as he put his boot in the stirrup and hoisted himself up on the first hop off his right toe. On any other day, he’d take three or four hops to make the saddle and remember that that action used to be much easier. The three hands had already galloped off out of the yard kicking up dust before he had gathered himself fully on Star.

            “Hombres!”  He yelled to them, and they turned in unison. “Mas despacio, tus cabballos tienes calor.” He pointed to the full nearly midday sun beating down. The three men slowed the pace, and Raynor caught up with a few long, quick strides on Star who then settled into a light trot alongside the other three mustang quarter horses. 

            As the four men trotted from the homestead, Raynor wondered what these men had really seen. His Spanish was quite good, conversing with the Spanish-speaking hired hands over the years, but sometimes details still were misunderstood. He asked Jose for more information about the “airplane crash,” if it covered a large area of the prairie, or if they had seen any smoke. He again asked them if they seen bodies or any persons walking around the area. Jose either said no or that he didn’t know. Now Raynor wondered if this was the shooting star that had everyone abuzz and if it had anything to do with John odd behavior? Then again, it had been half a day now and wondered if all the bits of news and goings-on would all pan out and happen to be one in the same occurrence.  

            The ride out to water well number thirteen was about forty-five minutes with a few rolling hills and open prairie to traverse. The hot breeze blew in their faces as they trotted up the crest of a hill. Raynor stopped Star to scan the horizon and take a drink.  The hired men followed suit. With not many landmarks out here on the range, he saw what he remembered as the top of the weather-beaten tower with wooden wind vane and propeller that marked the well. Looking around he only saw one other tower, number eleven because twelve had gone dry years ago and its’ tower and parts gone, cannibalized for other productive wells. He confirmed his belief with the hired hands.

After drinking water from his canteen, Raynor pulled off his Stetson, took a red bandana out of his pocket and wiped his forehead. He was aware of the men’s anxiousness to continue, but he didn’t want to push the horses. If this crash was going on a day old, there was certainly no hurry to get there. Even though pacing himself and the men, Raynor felt he had to restrain himself as his own excitement built, but he couldn’t let the men run the horses out here in a full extended gallop which they would if given free rein. He put his hat back on and reined Star slightly to the left and straight into a trot again.   

            After a few more minutes, they began the slow, shallow incline to the last rise. The horses seemed fine in the heat, but the three men were getting visibly excited, telling Raynor that they should see the site from the rise’s peak. Raynor urged Star on a little faster up the incline. When they reached the crest and observed the scene, Raynor was a little crestfallen. 

            Clearly, the scene was a crash site of some kind, but it didn’t seem like a very large crash site for an aircraft. The sun-glinted off the metallic pieces that extended in a strip across an acre or so in length in Raynor’s estimation. The unusual observation he made right away from the distance was that there were no larger pieces like a fuselage, wings or engine pods. A rocket or missile? There was also no sign of smoke or trace of fire in the area.

As Raynor pondered the site, the hired men moved down the slope closer to the wreck site. Raynor thought about stopping them, thinking of a possible radiation hazard in this new atomic world since the war; however, he knew that even if there was radiation leakage of a missile whatever short-term exposure wouldn’t be deadly or at least that was what the Army always told the soldiers in experimental tests.

            Raynor took notice of some details as he approached. He yelled to the men. “No tocar los partes vea para gente.” 

He studied the ground leading into the crash site. One detail he noticed was that the disturbed ground looked as if the aircraft dropped straight down without much of a horizontal skid where it impacted the ground. He gazed about and pondered as the men jumped off their horses and left them ground tied.  

“Hombres, despacio, no tocar cosas.”

Raynor joined them on foot and the four of them walked around and between the pieces. The hired hands probably hadn’t noticed because of their lack of experience in such things, but the appearance of the broken and twisted metal confirmed to Raynor that this was no normal airplane crash. He knew about jet aircraft and actually had seen one fly, but this didn’t have the right pieces for a jet aircraft or missile either for that matter.

A chill went up his back with another, impossible, notion.