Here is how it must have been when man lived as predator, Leaphorn thought. He developed the animal skills, and starved with his children when the skill failed him. How had Brigham hunted? Traps, probably, and a bow to kill larger game. Perhaps his father had brought him a gun -- but someone might have heard gunshots. He listened to the sound of Eleanor Friedman's shallow breathing, and over that, the wind sounds. Suddenly he heard a thumping. Steady at first, then louder. He leaped to his feet. A helicopter. But before he could get into the open there was only the wind. He stared into the grayness, frustrated. He had found her. He must get her out of here alive. The risk lay in carrying such a fragile load over such rough terrain. It would be difficult. It might be impossible. A helicopter would save her. Why hadn't Houk done more to get her out? No time, Leaphorn guessed. His son had told him of this injured woman, but perhaps not how near she was to death. Houk would have wanted a way to save the woman without giving up this mad son to life (or perhaps death) in a prison for the criminally insane. Even Houk needed time to solve such a puzzle. He was too crippled to bring her out himself. If he did, she would talk of the man who had nursed her, and Brigham would be found--an insane triple murderer in the eyes of the law. The only solution Leaphorn saw would be to find Brigham another hideaway. That would take time, and the killer had allowed Houk no time.
The woman stirred, moaned. He and Brigham would have to carry her to the canyon bottom, then five miles down to the river. They could tie the kayaks together, put her litter on one of them, and float her to Mexican Hat. Five or six hours at least, and then an ambulance would come for her. Or the copter would come from Farmington if the weather allowed. It hadn't been too bad for whatever had just flown over.
He walked out under the dark sky. He smelled ozone. Snow was near. Then he saw Randall Elliot walking toward him.
Elliot raised his hand. 'I saw you from up there,' he said, pointing past Leaphorn to the rim of the mesa. 'Came down to see if you needed help.'
'Sure,' Leaphorn said. 'Lots of help.'
Elliot stopped a few feet away. 'You find her?'
Leaphorn nodded toward the ruin, remembering Elliot was a copter pilot.
'How is she?'
'Not good,' Leaphorn said.
'But alive at least?'
'In a coma,' Leaphorn said. 'She can't talk.' He wanted Elliot to know that immediately. 'I doubt if she'll live.'
'My God,' Elliot said. 'What happened to her?'
'I think she fell,' Leaphorn said. 'A long ways. That's what it looks like.'
Elliot was frowning. 'She's in there?' he said. 'How did she get here?'
'A man lives out here. A hermit. He found her and he's been trying to keep her alive.'
'I'll be damned,' Elliot said. He moved past Leaphorn. 'In here?'
Leaphorn followed. They stood, Elliot staring at Friedman-Bernal, Leaphorn watching Elliot. He wanted to handle this just exactly right. Only Elliot could fly the helicopter.
'A hermit found her?' he said softly, posing the question to himself. He shook his head. 'Where is he?'
'He went to get a couple of poles. We're going to make a litter. Carry her down to the San Juan. Her kayak's there, and mine. Float her down to Mexican Hat and get help.'
Elliot was looking at her again, studying her. 'I have a helicopter up on the mesa. We can carry her up there. Much quicker.'
'Great,' Leaphorn said. 'Lucky you found us.'
'Really, it was stupid,' Elliot said. 'I should have remembered about this place. She'd told me once she'd found the polychrome pattern she was chasing on potsherds in here. Back when she was helping inventory these sites. I knew she'd planned to come back.' He turned away from the woman. His eyes locked with Leaphorn's.
'As a matter of fact, she said some things that made me think she had come here earlier. She didn't exactly say it, but I think she did some illegal digging in here. I think she found what she was looking for, and she came back to get some more.'
'I think you're right,' Leaphorn said. 'She dug up that ruins on the shelf down below here. Dug up a bunch of graves.'
'And got careless,' Elliot added, looking at her.
Leaphorn nodded. Where was Brigham? He'd said just a minute. Leaphorn walked out of the ruin, looking along the talus slope under the cliff. Two poles leaned against the wall not ten feet away. Brigham had returned and seen his devil, and gone away. The poles were fir, apparently, and weathered. Driftwood, Leaphorn guessed, carried down Many Ruins all the way from the mountains by one of its flash floods. On the ground beside them was a loop of rawhide rope. He hurried back into the room with them.
'A very skittish man,' Leaphorn said. 'He left the poles and disappeared again.'
'Oh,' Elliot said. He looked skeptical.
They doubled the blanket, made lacing holes, and tied it securely to the poles.
'Be very careful,' Leaphorn said. 'Knee probably broken. Broken arm, all sorts of internal injuries.'
'I used to collect the wounded,' Elliot said, without looking up. 'I'm good at this.'
And Elliot seemed to be careful. Even so, Eleanor Friedman-Bernal uttered a strangled moan. Then she was unconscious again.
'I think she fainted,' Elliot said. 'Do you really think she's dying?'
'I do,' Leaphorn said. 'I'm giving you the heavy end because you're younger and stronger and not so exhausted.'
'Fair,' Elliot said. He picked up the end of the poles at the woman's head.
'You know the way back to your copter, so you lead the way.'
They carried Eleanor Friedman-Bernal carefully down the talus, then toward a long rock slide which sloped down from the rim. Beyond the slide -- probably the cause of it -- was a deep erosion cut which carried runoff water down from the top. Elliot turned toward the cut.
'Rest a minute,' Leaphorn said. 'Put her down on this slab.'
He was fairly sure now what Elliot planned. Somewhere between here and the helicopter, wherever that was, something fatal had to happen to Eleanor Friedman-Bernal. Elliot simply could not risk having her arrive at a hospital alive. Ideally, something fatal would also happen to Leaphorn. If Elliot was smart, he would wait until they had climbed a hundred feet or so up the cut. Then he would push the litter backward, tumbling Friedman-Bernal and Leaphorn down the jumble of boulders. Then he would climb back down and do whatever was needed, if anything, to finish them off. A bang of the head on a rock would do it and leave nothing to arouse the suspicion of a medical examiner. Figuring that out had been easy enough. Knowing what to do about it was another matter. He could think of nothing. Shooting Elliot was shooting the copter pilot. Pointing a gun at him to force him to fly them out wasn't practical. Elliot would know Leaphorn wouldn't shoot him once they were airborne. He'd be able to make the helicopter do tricks that Leaphorn couldn't handle. And he probably had the little pistol. And yet, once they started that steep climb, Elliot had simply to drop his end of the litter and Leaphorn would be helpless.
'Is this the only way up?' Leaphorn asked.
'Only one I could see,' Elliot said. 'It's not as bad as it looks. We can take it slow.'
'I'll wait here with the lady,' Leaphorn said. 'You fly the copter down here, land it somewhere where we don't have to make the climb.'
You could land a copter on this shelf if you had to, Leaphorn guessed. You'd have to be good, but someone who'd flown evacuations in Vietnam would be very good.
Elliot seemed to consider. 'That's a thought,' he said.
He reached into his jacket, extracted a small blue automatic pistol, and pointed it at Leaphorn's throat. 'Unbuckle your belt,' he said.
Leaphorn unbuckled it.
'Pull it out.'
Leaphorn pulled it out. His holster fell to the ground.
'Now kick the gun over here to me.'
Leaphorn did.
'You make it tough,' Elliot said.
'Not tough enough.'