Ms. Got Rocks (18 page)

“What the hell happened?” Callaghan yelled to Rocky. He had his navy blue ball cap off wiping soot and sweat from his astonished eyes.

“I’ve never seen anything like that, it just stopped,” he said.

Jazz stood squarely in front of him with her hands on her hips and said, “My father had that invented. My family does good things, Mr. Callaghan, contrary to what you think of us.” She turned and stomped off into the cabin.

The wind had again swung from the south, and the air was clearing. The fire crews have moved out of the area, leaving a small mop up crew behind filling a tanker truck from the river. They were too far away and too tired to ask questions of the two people standing stunned in the center of the only unburned acres within miles of Whiskey Gap.

Without another word, Callaghan walked to the river and swam to his dredge, pushing it back to his property.

Rocky yelled after him, “Do you want some help?”

Callaghan shook his head and waved her off and continued to swim away.

Rocky looked at the front of the meadow, the only burned part of the area was south on the Myerson’s place past the big rock and the old almond grove. Everywhere that Jazz had sprayed the La Extinga was safe. In fact, the weeds were even cool to the touch.

Jazz was standing on the porch looking most pleased with herself.

“Come on Jazz. We have to get pictures of this stuff,” Rocky turned to get her camera from the cabin.

For the next hour and half as the wind stayed out of the south, Rocky and Jazz reenacted the mixing and spraying process. Rocky took photos of the Myerson’s meadow and her adjacent meadow. That should be clear enough, the women agreed.

Jazz and Rocky washed up in the kitchen sink. They cracked icy cold cans of Pepsi and sat on the porch watching the meadow in their smoke stinking and sooty clothes. They sat there and listened to the radio fire reports and watched for flare ups.

When dusk arrived, the wind changed again to the west, this time, however, nothing happened. The fuel had been consumed and there was no way to get a start around the bridge.

The women realized that they were extremely hungry and Rocky had nothing prepared for dinner.

Between the two of them, Jazz made the sauce and Rocky stuffed the pasta shells. They ate what normally would have fed a family of five. They took their ice cream sundaes back out onto the porch, and ate while they listened to the radio announce that a new blaze was closing on the tiny historical town of Applegate, many miles east of Whiskey Gap.

“God, I feel horrible that I don’t have enough La Extinga to cover the whole area,” Jazz said.

“What does La Extinga mean, like put out fires in Spanish?” Rocky asked with a chuckle in her voice.

“The product doesn’t actually have a real brand name, the chemists call it R-42 or Snuff, but the men at the factoriess call it La Extinga, which obviously means to extinguish in Espanol. My Dad doesn’t have any sense of humor whatsoever, but he thinks calling it Snuff is the funniest thing, so in English they call it Snuff,” Jazz explained.

“Whatever he calls it, Jazz. I call it a miracle and I don’t know how to thank you for doing that,” Rocky said.

“It wasn’t any biggie; I didn’t have anything else to do anyway,” she gave Rocky a little hug.

“Rocky, I have to go now, the La Extinga will keep working for approximately forty-eight hours, and maybe they can catch that monster by then. I can help out with a hit man, if you want, take care of the problemo, no problemo,” Jazz said.

Rocky turned in astonishment and stared at her friend.

“Just kidding, but I do have to be going Rocky, I’m sorry that I can’t stay and visit with the girls, but I have a business meeting tomorrow so I alas, I must go,” Jazz was inside gathering her gear and then tossed the works into the Hummer.

In a very short amount of time Rocky was standing alone on the porch watching the taillights of the Hummer and sprayer recede into the darkness.

“What was all that? I got the impression when she drove in she was going to stay, otherwise why the overnight bag?” Rocky was asking herself. “Sometimes, I think we aren’t playing in the same ballpark.”

Before she figured out the situation, Callaghan appeared around the corner of the porch, dirty and looking tired but adorable in the extreme.

“Got Rocks, are you and your friend okay?” he asked as he stood at the bottom of the steps, looking as though he was waiting for permission to stand on the porch.

“Yeah, we are fine, we were tired and mostly hungry. There is a little left of the pasta we had, are you hungry? Are you okay?” Rocky asked trying her best to be polite.

“Hell, yes, I’m hungry,” he said, assuming it was safe for him to walk up onto the porch.

“Come on into the kitchen it won’t take long to fix,” Rocky said as she held the screen door open for him.

“Is your crocodile dog around?” he asked as he looked around the neat colorful living room with a wall decorated with the large map of the American River over drawn with grids for mining, that in turn was set off by photos in simple frames.

“Which crocodile do you mean? The big brown one, or the little black one? Well, makes no difference both the crocs and the rabbit are in Old Town Auburn for safety,” she said while sliding the pasta shells into the microwave and then pulled more salad mix from the refrigerator.

“Is your friend around, what was her name?” Callaghan asked concerning the sole purpose of his visit.

“Sit down there, her name is Jasmine Harris and she has a business meeting tomorrow, so she had to fly back,” she explained dishing the meal onto the plate.

“That fire retardant or whatever it was worked like a charm,” Callaghan said between bites of the terrific pasta.

“What kind of business is Jazz in?” he asked trying to sound casually interested.

“I don’t know specifically, some type of manufacturing, like that fire retardant; they sell it in South America,” Rocky said as she poured iced tea into the tall glasses and the two begin to re-hydrate their bodies. After he had eaten, they sat on the porch listening to the night creatures moving into the unburned meadow, the birds restless having been disturbed from their usual night roosting hangouts.

The humans sat and rested and soon the sound of snoring accompanied the sound of the night creatures in the meadow.

Rocky woke wondering why the birds were so loud. She looked around at the melted ice in the untouched glasses of tea. She sat up with a start and a groan.

There was no one around other than herself, the empty porch and the morning birds singing for joy.

Rocky ached everywhere as she made her way into the house looking for Callaghan. He was not there and a good thing too Rocky thought, as she set the coffee pot to chugging.

C
hapter 17

“
…
and who is standing there? You got it,” Callaghan questioned while he was talking by phone to his office in Washington D.C.

“Who was there?” asked Luke, switching Callaghan to speaker phone.

“Jasmine Harris was standing there in the middle of Clancy’s front yard,” Callaghan explained.

“Why the heck would she be there? We received the report when she took off. They didn’t file a flight plan so we didn’t know she was going to California,” Callaghan’s boss replied.

“The bad news isn’t that she was there, but that she recognized me,” Callaghan said sounding worried.

“Did she say anything?” Clark the senior team leader and Callaghan’s partner asked.

“Yeah, she let me know in no uncertain terms that she knew who I was, and that I knew who she was.” Callaghan replied.

“Man, you need to watch your back, if Harris knows who you are,” another team member stated while looking worried and thinking how he could arrange protection for Callaghan.

“What did Clancy do all this time, while you and Harris were bonding?” Luke asked Callaghan.

“She didn’t seem to pick up the vibes. This confirms what I’ve been thinking all along,” Callaghan stated.

“And what would you be thinking, as if I didn’t know?” Clark Fannuchi questioned.

“I’m thinking that Clancy isn’t involved in this, that she is unknowingly the best friend of America’s Number One Illegal Gun Runner. I think that she doesn’t have a clue about her friend Jazz,” Callaghan speculated.

“That would work out great for you buddy, who would want to live next door to Harris’ partner,” Clark said.

“To say nothing of jumping her bones,” one of the team members commented.

“Give it a frigging rest, man,” Callaghan said, “I have to go, my eggs are cooked. I’ll be back in the office tomorrow morning. I have to get the tractor back and water everything before I leave. And say a prayer they catch the bastard setting the fires,” Callaghan disconnected, he omitted telling his team members that he slept last night on Rocky Clancy’s front porch.

Callaghan thought. “You’d want her bones too, Lucas, if you had a close-up look at her eyes and the rest of her.”

C
hapter 18

T
here was nothing like being in a snow fed river to wake you up when you are feeling drowsy because you stayed up all night waiting for something to happen that didn’t happen. Watching, and silently listening to the crickets and frogs.

"Doesn't matter girls, it is getting light. Time to suit up and go earn a living." The coffee mug was empty anyway.

The water had the perfect clarity to it this morning, which made easier dredging. They were not letting water out of the dam up river, even if it was past mid July and the rains were not due here for another four months.

Into the water, she shoved and kicked the dredge over across the narrow main river current and back into the eddy directly across from the cabin. This was the spot that Rocky started cleaning out last week. She was anxious to see how much rubble had found its way back into the dredge hole, and how much the water current had cleaned off the face of the rock and the crevices.

That felt good. It was good to get some exercise and it was always fun to be underwater even if it was also hard work. Rocky waved her arms and scared off a flotilla of crayfish, they would be back as soon as the dredge hose started sucking water. Rocky chuckled to herself thinking about her eighteen thousand dollar dredge that was a water slide for crawdaddies.

The underwater face of the big rock was looking pretty and clean. Rocky gave herself a warm up exercise and incentive. Using her little dental picks she gouged into the big crevice, to see if any nuggets were loose. Nothing jumped right out and sparkled like gold in that place.

She surfaced and turned on the dredge motor. The dredge hose was instantly like handling a large agitated snake, and down she dove with it into the ten feet of clear water.

The hole itself was looking good; not too much debris had rolled back into the way. She worked steadily and according to plan. Rocky wanted a kitchen table size piece of river bottom cleared off down to the bedrock. Then the survey would begin with samples to see if there was enough gold to make it profitable to continue working on that spot. Rocky could see some small sparkling pieces floating in the water, but it was loose mica and nothing to get excited about. She was looking for black sand or white quartz.

A big hunk of gold sitting all by itself would also be just fine. Not that it ever happened that way; gold dredging was about moving rocks and earth. Rocky could see the area that her Dad worked and she was not going over that territory until the very last week of diving season.

It was already noon, and her body was hungry and very sleepy. She shut the dredge down, anchored it on the river bank, took the motor off the housing and dragged it in a piece of tarp, up onto the porch. Then, she hurried back to the dredge body and pulled the miners moss and the carpeting that caught the gold. Rocky put that in the old galvanized wash tub she found on one of Dad’s scrap metal piles. It had a hole in the side but it would hold the gold gear just fine. She dragged that back up to the house. Washing the sand and gold out of it tonight in the kitchen sink with the newly plumbed cold water faucet would be wonderful. Life was good. Rocky could do this while she watched for her snooper rock climber.

The dogs were letting Rocky know someone had driven onto the property. Rocky forgot to shut and lock the gate at the county road. She was staggering in her tracks tired. It was her brother and sister in law. Rocky started two more toasted cheese sandwiches, and got the booby trap off of the front door, before Dev swooped in and had booby trap everywhere.

“Hey you guys, what are you doing here,” Rocky got to the porch as the truck stopped.

Margie waved from the truck and called to her, “I couldn’t keep Dev away another minute.”

Devlin gave Rocky his sheepish grin, “We thought that we would take over for you for the night and you could get some sleep. The Babe and I have taken the day off tomorrow,” Dev said.

“You guys didn‘t have to do that. That sounds wonderful by me though."

"Come on in and have some lunch and tell me the plan, I‘m glad you are here,” Rocky moved out of the way of Pokey, the Border Collie, who had zoomed in the door looking for her dog buddies. To get any peace for the next few minutes, Dev shooed the dogs outside for their three-way romp around the meadow. Thumper hopped as fast as she could down the steps after the dogs. Soon, Rocky needed to get a photo of that.

“Sis, I still don’t have a plan,” and Dev took a big bite of sandwich ensuring he did not have to say anything more.

“Hah, he does too have a plan; he just doesn’t want us to know what it is,” said Margie while giving her husband a big grin and wrinkling up his already wrinkled T-shirt.

“Okay, all right, I give,” her brother had both hands up protecting his body from Margie’s verbal body punches.

“First thing, after lunch, I’m walking down by the base of the rock and see where he comes in from the road. Then I’ll know where he parks and tonight, we may have a surprise for him.”

“Oh, I love your kind of surprises,” Rocky winked at Devlin.

“I’ll drive our truck down to the cafe, and Rocky can follow me in her truck. We can leave our truck there overnight, and then the snoop won’t know we are here. When we get back, then you can go to bed,” Margie was triumphantly explaining her plan, and giving her husband a sly grin.

“That sounds like a good idea, Babe that will work,” Rocky’s brother has conceded not only the battle, but also the war.

Margie and Rocky finished their sandwiches, they left for the cafe and dropped off the truck.

When they returned to the cabin, Devlin had attached the dredge motor to the little pump to fill the buckets and started the gravity fed soaker hose on the veggie garden. Rocky had again forgotten to water in the past couple of days.

The dog herd had gone with Devlin to the bottom of the rock. The women made a full loop of the cabin before they went in, maybe they were scaring themselves, but it didn’t hurt anyone to take the time.

They had a cup of tea while waiting for Devlin to get back. Rocky started a batch brewing for iced tea in the afternoon.

There was a heavy envelope from Trailblazer Publications in today’s mail. That looked interesting or was it another fancy expensive way to get her to subscribe.

“Margie, Trailblazer wants me to do a photo essay on Donner Lake. They saw my pictures somewhere and decided that I was the photographer they wanted to do it. This is a contract. Wow...,” she trailed off. as she read further.

“Do they say how much they will pay?”

Ever the pragmatic Margie, she wanted to know the bottom line first.

“Oh do they ever,” Rocky breathed. She passed Margie the letter, who let out a low, slow whistle.

They took the tea out onto the front porch where it was cooler. Rocky signed the contract and with ceremony placed it into the return envelope. They talked about the Donner shoot and the possibility of Rocky doing photography full time, freelance. She would have to give up her dream of flying for the major airlines, but they do not seem in any urgent need for her flying skills, maybe this was what was in store for Rocky.

“I read some place, that people change careers several times in their working life,” said Margie. “Maybe, this is the time for you to do that.”

“That and with the income from gold mining I can starve to death,” Rocky moaned.

Dev had driven up to the porch and loped up to the waiting ice tea like the big overgrown puppy he really was.

“Who is starving to death?” he interrupted.

Rocky handed him the contract from Trailblazer Magazine.

He let out a wolf whistle, “They will pay that much for pictures, hell, I’m in the wrong business.”

They all laughed. Rocky’s brother was an internationally prominent geologist, with many papers and two textbooks to his credit. He worked around the world, finding water and oil.

All of them were rapidly talking, discussing the format and expense of doing a year long photo journal of the seasons there.

The dogs were now infected with the good mood and they started a wild game of tag around the dry front lawn. Thumper was watching from safety next to Margie’s foot.

“I think I can make it really beautiful and at the same time make it poignant with the Donner party. Maybe compare the four-lane highway now and the pass then. An aerial view would be stunning,” Rocky was telling them the images as they popped into her head.

Margie said, “Do you have enough money to get started, do you need another camera or lenses?”

“With the down payment, so to speak, that they are sending as soon as the contract is back, that should be enough to order the film and pay gas money up there for a look around scout trip. I should be okay to get this started,” Rocky paced the porch.

“Before I forget,” Devlin began, “I posted NO TRESPASS signs all over the base of the rock and at the road.”

“All right Dev,” Rocky high fived her brother. ”Now if I can catch him on the property; I can do something about it, legally.”

“Not that there is much to a trespass offense, but it starts building a history on this guy,” Devlin talked while trying to read the ingredients on the box of lemon cookies.

“You really think this is the same guy, from that day in the river?” Margie asked. “What was his name?”

“Can’t think of anyone else. I mean if it is a he, and he wants to make nice, why not come to the front door and make nice?” Rocky scratched her head at the place where it was healing and wondered aloud to her family.

“You have a major point there, Rocky,” Margie was pushing her hand away from the new scar and studied her face like she was some bug on a slide.

“It’s looking good, Sweet pea, your battle scar is looking good,” Margie opined.

Rocky went to the shed and hauled out the gold sorter and the wash tub full of moss and carpet from the dredge. The three of them started the tedious, but always exciting business of getting the gold out of the miner’s moss and sluice carpet and into the little vials to take to the gold buyer.

Margie and Rocky took over the washing process and Dev took the new machine out of the box and hooked it up to another hose attached to the kitchen faucet. Rocky did not even know if it would work.

“Dad bought this thing at a gold mining show,” Devlin told them. “It looks like it has never been out of the box. You spoon your black sand into this rotating pan thing and the water comes in here and the water combined with the circular motion moves the sand out of the basin and leaves behind the gold. Sometimes maybe some little garnets or heavier stuff like platinum that is easy to get out.”

While he was talking, Devlin assembled the machine. Margie and Rocky were working the moss for the little nuggets, fine gold flakes and sand. The machine would be the last step in gold recovery.

“I think it not only looks like fun, and jeez great concept, the miner gets to sit for a change,” Rocky was voting for the sitting and spooning black sand into the rotating basin, rather than the long process of recovering gold by hand panning, squatting at the river’s edge.

“Hey tell you what, if this thing really works, next season I’ll help you rig up a pump and water line to the porch for it,” Dev’s eyes were gleaming like a kid with a new toy.

“I’ve got a better idea, run a permanent water line into the bathroom for the toilet, and then run a line out here for the machine.”

"The latest new concept is running water in cabins,” Margie was only teasing Dev, they know that Rocky probably would have the money for a garden hose, but not to plumb the house.

“Doesn’t running water in the bathroom sound heavenly,” she thought aloud.

“I wonder why Dad didn’t ever use this contraption.” Margie was watching the machine in action.

“Probably because it takes running water to make it work right. The garden hose is what you are supposed to use, but I thought of something that will work also,” Dev said leaving the porch for the cabin with the porch screen door slamming.

It wasn’t long, when Dev came back, with tubing and a little black pump.

“I remembered that I still had the pump and some plastic tubing from my aquarium. I knew it was somewhere in my old room. The tubing must be twenty years old, keep your fingers crossed that it works.”

“What a great idea,” Rocky said, seeing instantly what he was going to do.

Pump the water from the wash tub through the tubing and into the basin of the collector.

Devlin continued with his ideas for it, while he connected the aquarium pump to the extension cord.

“I can wire an outside electrical outlet then it will be safe. Cut out all this hose switching, and dragging through the kitchen and extension cord stuff,” Dev cannot wait another instant to try out the recovery machine.

Rocky brought out her coffee can of cleaned black sand, that she had already taken the big gold flakes from and he started spooning the sand into the basin. Almost immediately they saw a very fine thin line of gold dust on the edges of the pan.

“Wow, I can see why Dad bought this goodie,” Margie was watching that thin gold line grow a little bigger.

“Do you think something as simple as rigging running water would stop him?”