A Rare Breed (22 page)

"I want some overhead shots. I think I can get just the angle I need from up here." Without another word, he braced his back against one boulder and his feet on another and thrust himself higher.

Brit watched, fascinated by his agility. He was propped between two huge rocks with only a small space between them. It looked simple. He merely boosted himself up easily, keeping his body balanced as he rose above her head. She tried not to think about the sheer space between the rocks directly beneath him. The laws of physics and the strength of his legs kept him aloft. So it was with admiration and no real alarm that she observed him. He took several photos of the ruins from above, then turned the camera toward her. She smiled and waved.

He inched further upward until he was quite high and snapped several more photos. Then he stopped moving for a few minutes.

Brit waited and when he didn’t descend, she asked, "Jake? What is it?"

"My foot's – ”  He paused before continuing. “Foot’s caught. Wedged between—"

Brit could see him tugging on his left boot. Suddenly it came loose, and he was free. And tumbling!

Stunned, she watched as he scraped against the rocks, dropped into the space between the boulders and disappeared from her sight.

Catching her breath and her wits, Brit ran to the edge of the rocks and peered over. Jake sprawled at the bottom of a chasm, another three feet below where she stood. His arms and legs were outstretched. His eyes were closed. He lay perfectly still. The camera remained clutched in his hand.

"Jake!" she screamed.

He didn't move. No response.

Frantically she sat on the ledge and lowered herself over the edge, scooting on her butt, then clambering over the rocks until she reached his side. He had fallen at least fifteen feet, a plunge that could have killed him.

"Oh God, Jake! Can you hear me?" She touched his cheek, but was afraid to move him, to cradle his head to her breast as she longed to do. He was strangely pale and lifeless. He gave no response to her frightened caress.

Knife Wing had been ill with a high fever for several days before Tuni-Wa came for me. He was delirious with the fever. At first, I thought he had quincy, which had devastated many of his people in recent years. It was another disease given to the Indians by the white man. But when I saw the rash on his chest, I knew that Knife Wing had the measles. He had caught them from my own little Sara. Many of his people had died from this childhood disease, too. Filled with guilt, I stayed by his bedside for days. The medicine man used drums and chants, while I used cool herbal baths and my own prayers. Together, we worked to keep my love alive . .
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Chapter Ten

Brit took a deep breath to try to quell her growing anxiety. She knew she had to keep her composure in order to help Jake and kept repeating that thought to herself. Stay calm. Don't panic. Keep a cool head. He's going to be all right. He is all right!

Strangely, she began to believe herself and responded rationally, as if subconsciously she knew exactly what to do in an emergency. She felt Jake's pulse. Steady. Good, that's good! See, he's alive. What next? Water, of course, water. She reached for the canteen attached to her waist that Jake insisted they wear whenever they were away from camp. Feverishly she unscrewed the cap, but fumbled it with nervous fingers.

"Oops! Oh" Before she could get control of the thing, it had dumped some of the contents onto Jake's passive face. He sputtered and groaned, eyelids fluttering. She sighed with relief. Sloppy, but it did the job.

"You trying to drown me?" He coughed and tried to sit up. He slumped back down, eyes closed.

"Jake? Are you all right? Can you hear me? Can you see me?"

"Yes ..." he mumbled, followed by another, longer groan.

"Then open your eyes. Look at me. Jake, please—"

After a long pause, he obliged, viewing her through darkly fringed, narrowed eyes. She was not sure if he was actually focusing.

"Hey, Jake, talk to me! Oh, thank God, you're awake. Are you okay? How do you feel?"

He mumbled something unintelligible and rubbed his eyes and forehead gingerly. "Ohhh, God . . ."

She hovered over him, anxious to touch him, yet fearful that she would do more damage. "Where do you hurt? Jake, you scared me so much! I thought you'd . . ." she paused and suddenly, anger replaced her fear and anxiety. "I thought you'd killed yourself! That was a stupid thing to do! Why in the world you climbed up there, I’ll never know! You could have—" She halted and realized she was losing control now that she could see he wasn’t critically injured or worse. She wanted to scream at him because he had taken such a risk, but that wouldn't help. Although he seemed to be okay, she really didn’t know if he had internal injuries.

"Where do you hurt?" she repeated. "Tell me."

"All over."

"That helps. Specifically where? Can you move? Maybe you're not okay."

"I'm okay," he mumbled and began to move.

"Maybe you shouldn't move in case something's broken. Any sharp pains anywhere?"

"My pride."

"How do your arms and legs feel? Are they numb?"

Groaning with every breath, he to tried again to sit up. But that brought the biggest moan. "Chest, ribs . . ." he mumbled and fell back onto the ground.

"Oh no. Where?"

He motioned to his left side. "Oh, yeah. This is it. Probably cracked a rib or two. Feels like a spear in my side."

"You definitely shouldn't be moving around, then. You might puncture a lung if you have a cracked rib. You'll have to stay here while I get help."

"No, no, I'm okay. Just give me a few minutes to get my breath."

"If I wait too long, it'll be dark soon. Besides, I can't get you out of this crevice without help." She looked around. "Where's your canteen? I couldn't find it."

"With the equipment."

"Back on the path with the backpack? You're impossible! You certainly don't take your own best advice. What was that speech about not going anywhere without water? This is a desert." She unbuckled her half-f canteen. "Here, keep this one. It should do until I get back with Rudi."

"No, Bri-" Jake started to protest. "Don't do that. I can make it."

She pressed her hand firmly on his shoulder. "Please, for once, do as I say. You stay put, right here. You can't climb out of these rocks by yourself. You're—we're going to need help get-ting out of here and walking back to camp—if you can walk."

"I can walk." His voice grew louder and more frustrated. "I'm okay. Just give me a hand." He struggled to get up, but was unable to do so by himself.

Brit shook her head. "You are one damned stubborn man. Don't you understand? I'm going to need Rudi's help getting you back to camp. So, shut up and lay still. I'll be back ASAP."

Brit stood up and took another deep breath. It was so hard to talk to Jake like that and even harder to walk away from him, leaving him lying there on the ground. He looked so helpless. She wanted to cry and cuddle him to her breast. But it would be dark soon and they needed help. She had to do it. She hoped no wild animals would cause him trouble. "I'll be back soon, Jake," she repeated before climbing back to the path.

She sprinted past the waterfall and around the pool, only pausing long enough to grab the other canteen. Knowing she couldn't run all the way back, she did a combination jog and fast walk that enabled her to continue moving rapidly and cover the distance without collapsing. She would have to make the trip again to show Rudi where Jake had fallen.

Yolanda closed her notebook and ambled back into the camp where Rudi hovered over a brewing pot. "Ummm, something smells marvelous. What are you up to?"

He motioned and gave her a sample bite. "What do you think?"

"Well, it's not your very best. But hey, considering the limitations, it's pretty good."

"Chili from a can is very limited," Rudi admitted. "And the spices we have here are few. But, it's chili. It'll satisfy my craving until we get back to L.A."

"Which won't be long, I suppose. Jake said he was almost finished with his work." Yolanda sighed and sat cross-legged on a ground tarp. She studied the towering stone heights around them and the distant blue sky.

Rudi joined her. "What's wrong, babe? You sound as if you aren't anxious to go. A week ago, you'd have given up chocolate for a month to get out of this hole."

"I know. But . . . it's strange. This place seems to grow on me. Every day is different. And better. There's a kind of serenity here that we can't get at home. Certainly not in L.A."

"And no pollution here."

"Rudi, I have been so inspired down here. Do you know that I've got the basis for three different stand-up routines written down and a couple of really good ideas for the show? Today I've been making notes on several others. For me, that's amazing!"

He slipped his arm around her shoulders and squeezed. "You haven't written that much since the old days."

She grinned. "You mean the bad old days before the good new days? That's because in the old days I had so much incentive to get out of the barrio. And I wanted to do my thing."

"But that's where your inspiration came from. That strong desire. And also from your roots."

"Something about being here reminds me of those times, Rudi. I remember so much now, things I haven't thought of in years. Good material for the show."

"Maybe it's the primitive way we're living."

"Maybe it's the lack of diversions. Nothing else to do but think, right?"

"Hey, I ought to bring you back here every year to spark your creativity." Rudi chuckled devilishly at the notion. "As if I could ever get you down here again."

"Not such a bad idea," Yolanda said thoughtfully. "I wouldn't mind it at all."

"You're kidding. You'd want to come back?"

"Maybe with better planning, like the appropriate clothes. I think it would be a better experience if I could wear clean clothes every day and a sweater for the cool nights. Also," she laughed, "I'd bring certain foods I miss, like chocolate."

"Ayee, I can never figure you out, babe." He gestured in the air. "When we first got married, all you wanted to do was make it big in Hollywood. Now that you have, you want to go back to roughing it."

"Well, maybe not too rough." She gazed thoughtfully into the distance. "Or I could bring along some help."

"Yeah, sure!" Rudi slapped his knee. "Sounds like another idea for the show. Yolanda goes to the Grand Canyon to live in the wild for two weeks and interviews hiking companions who like to rough it and cook over a Bunsen burner."

With enthusiasm and their own typical excitement, they verbally created the scene. First, Rudi explained the setup, then Yolanda picked up on the idea. Suddenly, in mid-speech, Yolanda lifted her head and held a finger up for quiet. "I hear something. I'll bet they're coming back. Our little lovers, Brit and Jake. Is supper ready?"

"All but the tortillas. We're out of tortillas," Rudi lamented. "Just chili and crackers." He made a face. "Very Anglo."

Yolanda hopped up and pointed. "Rudi, it's Brit by herself. Running. Hey, she's alone!"

Brit began yelling before she got into camp. "Rudi! Rudi! Hurt . . . bottom of rocks . . . just lying there . . . ribs . . . need you . . ." She halted at the camp clearing, clutching her side and gasping for breath.

Rudi reached her first, gripping her shoulders. "Hold on, Brit, babe. Slow down and tell me what happened." He led her to a log seat.

Brit balked at sitting, even though she was near exhaustion. "But we have to hurry. Before dark."

Yolanda joined them. "Jake's hurt?"

Brit nodded. "He fell into a crevice between two rocks that look like they were made of molded lava. I need help getting him out."

"Okay, let's go!" Rudi responded immediately.

"Now, wait a minute," Yolanda advised coolly. "Do we need any equipment? How badly is he hurt?"

"He was briefly knocked out."

"Unconscious?" Yolanda looked alarmed. "Was he conscious when you left him?"

"Oh, yes. We talked. He thinks he cracked a rib or two."

"Can he walk?"

"I don't know. He said he could."

"But you didn't get him up? Didn't see him walk?"

"I . . . was afraid to try. I told him to stay down until Rudi got there to help him climb out of the rocks."

"Good, good. Now if he'll just do it." Yolanda began filling a canteen with water. "Rudi, get a flashlight. What else do we need?"

"I don't know how he's going to make the trip back, he's in such pain," Brit said. "Jake's not very good at taking advice. But I don't think he's in much condition to help himself right now. I think he'll have to wait on us."

"I’ll get the rope, just in case," Rudi said.

"We have it," Brit said. "It's with our equipment on the path. Jake made me wear it when we climbed to Casa Patio ruin."

"And now he needs it," Yolanda said wryly. "How far did he fall?"