Patinewah and the Border Guard

By James Solomon

"Patinewah and the Border Guard" is the first of six in a massive series full of romance of a different sort, heavy action and the adventure of a lifetime. Many strange things happen in the dark, dry deserts along the Arizona/Mexican border. Since the 1980's there was always talk of a wall being promised by the U.S. congress but, in fact it never came to be. Many believed that the congressmen were getting pay-offs from the cartels to leave the borders open.The drug cartels found this overland freeway to be the perfect opportunity to move in and out of the United States with their poison. That was until the Bear Clan appeared. The clan, lead by Patinewah, a Cherokee Princess who died and was turned Vampire along with many others in her tribe during the "Trail of Tears' in 1829. Together with her brothers, Yarnell, Little Quail,a couple of unsuspecting border patrol agents named Hank, Hime',and a 400 pound shapeshifter known as Lalo, they battle against the Yote. The werewolf hybrid soldiers that are the enforcers for the drug cartels of South America and Mexico. This came about as the Spanish invaded the Indian villages deep in the jungles of Mexico during the 16th century, lead by a man known only as the Colonel. A diabolical fiend that prayed on the innocence of others to obtain his power and wealth. His only downfall was he did not plan on the cunning of the Topac (the wolves that walk upright) and their leader Sliver, who saw his eminent death and had his blood added to the Spanish soldiers water source, cause them to turn to a werewolf. It wasn't until the Bear Clan arrived at the border that the Yote began losing drug shipments one after the other. This enraged the Colonel so much that he led and army of Yotes into what he believed to be their final battle. However, he did not count on the Clan"s strength or the country boy know how of the border patrol agents, Hank and Hime'. While Hime' and Hank have the knowledge they need to construct their implements of destruction to fight off the Yote. Their success and survival depends on one thing.

• Language: English
• Publisher: James Solomon
• Release date: Mar 5, 2018
• ISBN: 9781370807031

James Solomon

ABOUT THE AUTHOR J.L. (Jim) Solomon, grew up in a single parent family, raised by his mom since he was 4 years old. Growing up in a big city like Phoenix, Arizona in the 50’s and 60’s made it kinda tough to learn all about the outdoors. There were no Wildlife Organizations back then so J.L. learned from the outdoor magazines like “Outdoor Life” and Field and Stream” that his mom subscribed him to. From these magazines he learned many outdoor skills and by the age of 20, J.L. felt pretty confident about it. It was in 1974 J.L. watched a National Geographic Special about Dr’s John and Frank Craighead up in Missoula, Montana and the Grizzly Bear research they were performing in Yellowstone Park. It was that show that had him deciding that Montana was where he should be and in 1975, he and a friend Scott Reed bought, rebuilt and painted an old 1953 Willy’s. It was a flathead six cylinder engine with a six volt system. It took them five days to get to Missoula and shortly after arriving in Missoula, J.L. was hired by the Wildlife Research Center at the University of Montana. The following year J.L. was asked to participate in a Grizzly Bear research project by Dr. John J. Craighead. It lasted for 6 weeks, all on foot so we covered 270 miles performing the ground truth data of the Satellite Maps. This is shared this to let all kids from single parent families can accomplish anything. J.L. later went on to host the number one outdoor radio show in the nation’s sixth largest market, Phoenix, Arizona. J.L. was the first in outdoor radio to broadcast a LIVE show 38 miles out to sea off the coast of Puerto, Vallarta as well an outdoor show on the FOX Arizona Sports network. J.L. has always had a fascination with werewolves and vampires since the age of six so it was no wonder when he sat down in the Salt Lake City Airport waiting to fly out to see his son in Montana and wrote the first 21 pages of, “Patinewah and the Border Guard” on a yellow pad. 19 Chapters and 267 pages later it was complete with Cherokee heroes and heroines from the “Trail of Tears”, border patrol agents and a drug cartel from South America run by, well you’ll just have to read it to find out the rest of the story.

Book preview

TABLE OF CONTENTS

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

CHAPTER1 GREEN SMOKE

CHAPTER 2 THE MORNING AFTER

CHAPTER 3 CABIN FEVER

CHAPTER 4 BACK AT THE RANCH

CHAPTER 5 PAYBACK

CHAPTER 6 THE AWAKENING

CHAPTER 7 THE CATAPULT

CHAPTER 8 RETALLIATION

CHAPTER 9 MYSTERY SOLVED

CHAPTER 10 YIPPIE-I-AY

CHAPTER 11 HOOK AND BULLET

CHAPTER 12 YOTE-L-A-E-HOO

CHAPTER 13 THE DEPUTY

CHAPTER 14 BEING PREPARED

CHAPTER 15 THE REVERSAL

CHAPTER 16 BUM VOYAGE

CHAPTER 17 THE SURGE

CHAPTER 18 THE CEREMONY

CHAPTER 19 KICKIN ASS AND TAKIN NAMES

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS;

It is a difficult task at best, writing something that will be as much fun to read as it was for me to write.

I want to thank my wife Patti Solomon for being my inspiration for the heroine, Patinewah. Patti herself is of Cherokee descent. She encouraged me all along the way to get this book finished.

I also want to thank that funnel cloud that appeared to me many times throughout my life.

I want to thank my life-long friend, Hank for also being my inspiration from a life time of insane experiences we shared from the time we were 10 years old. Many of the visions Hime’ had throughout the story are of times Hank and I spent together. Many thanks and love to my Aunt Sissy, Uncle Jack, Aunt Ethel and Uncle Bud for taking us in at certain times of our young lives and loving and caring for my sister Patti and I.

I want to thank artist, Elliott Conner for the magnificent front and back cover. His work is beyond excellent.

For my many believers during the creation of this incredible story:

Cindy Garrison, My Aunt Alice, Dale Suzuki, Deb Ferns, Tice Supplee, Alysia Arthur, Maryn Brannies, Gary Katula, Dan and Joann Priest and Tyson Marshall. You were all so wonderful in your belief of what this would turn out to be and I am very proud of it. I owe you all so much.

M uch thanks to my older sister Patti for always being there and supporting my wrestling tournaments in school.I Love you Mucho sis.

THANK YOU TO TAURUS, REMINGTON AND MARLIN FOR CREATING SUCH DYNAMIC FIREARMS USED THROUGHOUT THE STORY.

I do not want to forget my mom, Jeanne Solomon, who passed away some time ago. What can you say about a woman a single mom who gave up everything for us.

Mom, this is what happens when you are a single parent raising two kids in the 50’s when divorce was unheard of. You supported all the insane things I did as a kid, even moving to Montanawith Scotty Reed in an old 1953 Willy’s wagon back in 1975 so I could go to the U of M and do research on Grizzly bears.

To all of my family and friends listed above and beyond, I Love You all and May God Bless you real good.

PATINEWAH AND THE BORDER GUARD

J.L.SOLOMON

CHAPTER 1

GREEN SMOKE

Afternoon Cap, Hime’ said, as he and Hank walked into the Border Patrol station. The Captain looked up momentarily, long enough to acknowledge their presence then he went back to work on his computer. Remembering the package, he followed the agents to Hime’s office. Hey, a package came for you earlier today, it was just sitting on the steps in front of the station, the little man offered. Yeah, I see that Hime’ responded, as he sat in his chair, Hank sitting directly across from him. Hime’ slowly picked and prodded at the package not lifting it just in case.Doesn’t appear to be a return address on it, Hank noticed. Saw that too, Hime’ again responded. Bomb maybe? inquired the Captain now impatiently pacing the floor. What if it’s a bomb? the Captain again sounded off. Relax, Cap, Hank reassured him. If it was a bomb don’t you think it would have blown up when you picked it up and carried it into Hime’s office. Oh Geez! Oh Geez! The Captain said in a panic. I will wait for you in my office, call and let me know what it is, if you’re not blown up or something? he said nervously as he immediately exited Hime’s office, running down the long hallway to his own, closing the door abruptly. He then ran and dove under his desk covering his ears.

What do you think it is Hime’? Hank asked as he lifted it off the desk twirling it around by its corners.Shit give me that damn thing we’ll find out once and for all, Hime’ returned as he grabbed his knife from his pocket and proceeded to cut the tape on the top.

Holy shit, he gasped as he pulled back the tabs on the box hurling it over Hank’s shoulder onto the floor behind him.The action caused Hank to fall over backwards in the chair as the box landed on its open top and as Hank lifted it up he too proclaimed, Holy Shit! What is that bloody mess? Hime’, now pissed jumped over the desk with his knife stabbing the mass of hair and blood that lay in a heap on the floor. Holding it up he said, It looks like a scalp but more like a dog scalp look at those huge ears! It was a scalp but like nothing they had ever encountered before.On the bottom of the box was a blood soaked note that read only, newah," as a portion of the note was covered in blood and illegible.

What the hell kinda joke is this? Hime’ asked as he scooped the bloody mess up with his knife, sliding it back into the box, and what the hell is a newah? Beats me, Hank returned, but did you see what time it is? Let’s get to the river before it’s too dark to see if we can apprehend these guys before we lose them again.

Poking his head around the corner the Captain saw the coast was clear, so he continued with his interrogation. What guys? Do you two know of a drug deal coming across the border this evening? Something like that Cap, Hime’ said picking up the box as they raced passed him and out to their ATV’s. Scooting along behind them Cap insisted, You’ll let me know if you need backup, right? For sure Cap, Hank responded as they jumped onto the ATV’s, Hime’ placing the box on the back of his unit and sped off. The road to the river bottom was full of ruts and dips from all the heavy rains making for a bumpy ride. So much so that Hime’ did not notice the box as it flew off in the sage- brush.

Slowly, methodically they crept, turning off the dirt road then into the desert as they maneuvered their ATV’s to within fifty yards from the river’s edge. Dismounting, they slid back off the seats silently so as not to make a sound. They hunkered down creeping along the top of the river bottom, watching their quarry below them intently as they crawled along the desert floor on all fours Ouch, dammit Hank proclaimed in a loud whisper. Prickly pear? Hime’ questioned. Yea, keep moving Hank responded as he stopped momentarily pulling the cactus needles from his palm. About ten feet below them, their unsuspecting prey stood milling around the lush grass on the river bottom, a result of the recent monsoon rains.

This was not the first attempt for Border Patrol Agents Hime’ and Hank as they tried to apprehend three of the most cunning adversaries they had ever encountered.They were right above them now as their unfamiliar scent drifted along the river bottom alerting the leader of the group.

Raising his head, confronting the wind, his nostrils flared as they filled with an inexplicable pungent odor. He attempted to pinpoint the position of the intruders, turning his head, glaring in the direction of the uninvited predators.

Now sensing danger he snorted, alerting the others. They too raised their heads turning their attentions toward Hime’ and Hank who had now sprung up running full boar toward their unsuspecting prey. I got the leader, Hime’ yelled back to Hank as he dove off the side of river bank onto the wild mustangs back grabbing it’s mane to right him self.

Meanwhile Hank had leaped onto the back of a beautiful ebony mustang that was running alongside the paint. Unfortunately Hank, misjudging the distance, bounced off the mustang’s rump falling to the ground with a loud thud. Picking himself up Hank brushed off the caked wet sand off his backside as he watched Hime’ now a hundred yards down the river bottom. Hime’ had turned back to laugh at Hank’s misfortune not paying attention to the low branch the mustang was running straight for. Turning around just in time Hime’ swung down alongside the paint grasping its mane refusing the mustang’s futile attempt to knock him off.

Missing his back by mere inches Hime’ again righted himself on the back of the paint. Looking through the trees to his right he watched in amazement a vertical cloud or mist almost like a funnel cloud mysteriously appeared that was paralleling his position. He momentarily took his eyes off the next low hanging branch, intrigued by the mysterious vision he saw and the sweet smell of anise.

Unfortunately, by the time he looked back up it was too late and he succumbed to the branch knocking him abruptly to the ground with a loud woof as the air inside his lungs was quickly eliminated from the impact of the altercation with the branch. Though Hank tried to yell and warn him, by the time Hime’ had turned back around it was too late he had bit the dust, literally as the mustang disappeared into the darkness.Hank was out of breath by the time he reached Hime’ now picking himself up knocking the wet sand from his clothes. You almost got him this time, Hank said now assisting Hime’ with his cleanup dusting off his back.

So what happened to you and the black? Hime’ asked. Misstep, Hank replied grinning as he gazed into the dark sky. Did you see that funnel cloud through the trees? Hime’ inquired. Funnel cloud, what funnel cloud? Hank responded rubbing the back of Hime’s head, an insinuation that Hime’ might have a concussion. Hime’ knocked Hank’s hand away. No seriously. Hime’ returned frustrated with Hank’s response.

Hank pointed his flashlight in Hime’s eyes once more checking for concussion. ENOUGH ALREADY SHIT HEAD! Hime’ protested as Hank, now acknowledging Hime’s dismay stepped back. The pair had been chasing these mustangs for over a year now and this was the closest they had come to succeeding in their attempt to ride them.

Hime’ wasn’t his real name. It was a name given him by his seventh grade teacher, Mr. Ruiz, who was Hispanic. His actual name was Jim Duncan but his Spanish name was Jaime’, which his school friends pronounced Himee. Yeah, that’s what friends are for. Anyway, the name stuck with him throughout his life.

Hime’ was in his early thirties and had always been defined by others as a redneck. Believing in God and country, he never dabbled in the drugs. Although Hime’ did do his share of drinking when he was younger. Hime’ was a man of medium build with strong muscle tone that was very well defined. He was meticulous about being clean-shaven. He had short dark wavy hair.

His eyes were a piercing blue, with a slight scar over his right eyebrow. A reminder of his drinking days and the car accident that nearly took his life many years before. Hime’ was a black and white kinda guy. Either you were his friend and could be trusted or you weren’t. There was no room for gray in his life whatsoever, maybe that’s why he had been married a number of times before.

The women he had chosen were too color-coordinated and being down on the border kept him preoccupied and away from the female temptation.

He thought back to the previous years of working for the border patrol, how the government had dismissed the charges about the cartel drug mules, of whom Hime’ referred to as Yotes.

A term he had learned from the only woman he had ever really loved, coming over the border with their blood soaked drugs. Blood soaked would be a literal term.

As the pot and cocaine (referred to as MELADRAMA, on the streets) they brought across the border had been laced with the venomous toxins from the blood the Yotes had coursing through their bodies which turned many users in America into an addicted hybrid of sorts. While their users did not actually turn, they still became killers and the Border States were full of them.

The ‘Yotes were, what the media called Coyotes, the scum of the earth, the illegal drug runners that trafficked in human suffering of one sort or another. What the media did not know was that they were in fact an evolutionary phenomenon. There have been an untold number of stories of the werewolves and they, in point of fact, are true, more so then we wish to believe.

While the actual werewolves were the huge muscular breeds that ran the cartels, in Mexico, Central and South America, the ‘Yotes had evolved to be smaller in stature. They were faster and a more blood thirsty, ravenous pack of killers than their muscle bound cousins the descendants of the Topac, the wolf that ran upright on their hind legs.

They were more like the Velociraptors of the Jurassic. Because our government had not safely and effectively sealed the borders due to big money interests that kept many a congressman living a luxurious life, the ‘Yotes had free travel between their country and ours, allowing them to easily transport their poison and human slaves across the border.

Hime’ first came in contact with the ‘Yotes just a few months prior. Hime’ and Hank were out on patrol after their little foray with the wild stallions of which, once more, they were outsmarted. They received a call that a pack of Coyotes were attempting to cross the border armed with AK’s and bails of marijuana on their backs.

Hime’and Hank split up, as they had worked together as a team since they were 10 years old. From their rabbit hunting days in the desert, they knew the best way to apprehend them.

Hank was a mild mannered, easy-going man also in his early thirties. But don’t mistake that easy-going demeanor for weakness. If you pissed him off chances are you would already be laid out flat on the ground wondering what just happened.

He was stockier then Hime’ from years of high school football. He was a retired fireman with a HASMAT and EMT background.

He too had blue eyes and if it weren’t for his blonde hair, a lot of it with a matching goatee, you could see by his nose that he had a Cherokee heritage that he was very proud of.

After years of hunting and fishing together Hime’ understood the native in Hank. Hank had an uncanny sense of smell. His acute and rapid eyesight enabled him to spot a Jackrabbit a half-mile away. Hank could never quite get used to the idea of being retired. That’s why, at Hime’s request, he had taken the job as a Border Patrol Agent much to his wife, Cory’s dismay. Hime’ wanted someone that he knew he could trust with his life, to watch his back and Hank was the only person that would fit into that mold.

I’ll go high, Hank radioed to Hime’ as he maneuvered his ATV to the top of the river bottom. Hime’ took that as a hint he was taking the river bottom.

Hime’ hated the Salt Cedar infested river bottoms as they always gave way to an ambush, but knowing Hank as he did he knew that Hank had the better eyes and could see the distance at night should the intruders be flushed.

As he traveled along the game trails through the cedars, Hime’ noticed a sweet smell, like Anise, reminiscent of the funnel cloud he saw on his wild ride, coming around the salt cedar maze and as he was about to radio to Hank for a location he noticed that white blur once more to his right just before he was knocked catawampus off his ATV. HOLY SHI… Hime’ was about to yell before a small hand muffled his anger.

Wiping the sand from his eyes his vision began to clear. In front of him was the most beautiful woman he had ever encountered. Hime’ started to remove her hand from his mouth when a soft, angel like voice whispered, Shhh! You’re about to ride right into an ambush and Oh yea, this fell from your machine. She said, handing him the bloody box. Still dazed, after being ambushed himself by this enchanting creature, he knew he heard the words but did not see her lips move. Hime’ kept quiet as she motioned for him to follow her. He was speechless as he gazed upon her beauty.

My name is Patinewah, she whispered. SO YOU’RE THE… Hime’ got cut short shhhh she interrupted as she put her hand back over his mouth. Yes, it was me, she added but right now you need to be quiet and follow me, please".

Hime’ was to find out later that she was a Cherokee princess, a descendant of the famous Cherokee Chief, Sequoya, before she was turned by a vampire, her brother Yarnell.

The name Patinewah was of an ancient Indian dialect, which meant Blazing Arrow, a name well deserved as she was deadly even at a long distance with a bow and arrow since she was a child. Her hair was to her waist, jet-black and pulled back into a tight ponytail, which she had draped over one shoulder; this accented her flawless porcelain, skin. She was small and diminutive in stature and her large emerald green eyes glowed in the dark as he gazed upon her.

She wore a low cut buckskin shirt that kept her breasts pressed hard against her chest that was in turn covered by a long, dark brown canvass coat with a high collar. Her tight fitting jeans and moccasins accentuated her petite but shapely figure. On her hip, she sported what looked to Hime’ as a long whip with many sharp silver points dangling off the end.

Her left hand was filled with an old bow made of Yew, which held an arrow, the broadhead knapped from stone. Many other turkey-fletched arrows were on her back surrounded by a quiver made of elk hide. He thought it interesting the way she was dressed and he wondered if she was just dressed for a costume party.

Hime’ followed her through the dry river bottom, in and out of the jungle of salt cedars they ran and as they came to a small clearing, she crouched down in the brush and pointed to numerous locations along the wall of the river bottom and whispered Watch, but don’t move or make a sound. Now, Hime’ couldn’t see a thing she was pointing at and was starting to become agitated. He began to stand up when out of nowhere he noticed funnel clouds or that’s the best way he could describe them, but they were not like a normal cloud that lays outstretched in the sky horizontally during the monsoons but vertical as they drifted along the top of the drainage.

They were small in appearance, about five feet in length and moved slowly, stealthily, as if stalking prey, floating about four feet off the ground. It was almost as if they were strategically placed and as silence filled the river bottom Hime’ turned to the Indian maiden with a look of confusion on his face, but she was no longer there.She had vanished just as swiftly as she had appeared He stood up frantically scanning the terrain for her. Was this a dream? a vision?

What the hell just happened? he thought, just as the river bottom ahead of him exploded in all different directions. Hime’ watched in amazement as he saw the funnel clouds materialize into human forms. Hime’ likened what he was observing to a bar room brawl as there were bodies and dust flying everywhere. Shrieks of anguish and what appeared to be howls echoed throughout the river bottom. It reminded him of his college days in the bars of Montana. But that’s a different story.

Hime’ noticed a tall dark individual, brandishing a large-bladed Bowie knife in one hand and a large elk antler in the other. He stared in utter amazement, as the dark one would shove the antler into the yote’s throat with one motion, positioning its ravenous jaws away from him and stabbing it in the under belly with a large knife.

Upon completion of each kill, the dark one stuck the butt of the antler-handled knife into his mouth and twisted it into a full circle while spinning the antler in preparation for the next. What strange madness is this? Hime’ wondered to himself. He would later discover that the dark one was named Yarnell and the knife was the original Bowie knife. He watched in amazement as the dark one cut and slashed his way into the Yote pack as they charged from the bank of the riverbed.

All Hime’ could see was the flash of the blade and the spin of the elk antler in the moonlight along with the flight of his long coat as Yarnell spun around, catching one of the beasts just under the groin as it leapt off the bank towards him. Yarnell drove the blade home opening the beast from the groin to the sternum, as it fell at his feet.

A flash to the right of him caught his eye as Hime’ turned to watch another darkly clad individual brandishinglooked to be a silver tomahawk, throwing it at one of the beasts, striking it in the forehead as it leaped off the high bank at of the river bottom toward Yarnell. Then leaping into mid air he grabbed the tomahawk from one yote skull kicking it to the side only to throw the tomahawk once more killing yet another.

As quickly as his hand was emptied he filled it with another one this time taking off the head of yet another beast he met in mid-flight as it ran toward the Indian maid known as Patinewah who was otherwise preoccupied with her own battle.

She pulled a whip from her waist, waving it over her head in a circular motion then cutting it back, it cracked alongside the head of one of the yotes splitting its head wide open as it was caught mid air.

She swung the Yote around and over her head impaling it on the side of a huge Saguaro cactus. Upon the release of the whip Patinewah swung it around her waist. Gripping her bow firmly she leapt into the air, spinning around backwards she pulled and released an arrow striking yet another yote in the head as it ran for the dark one, pinning it’s head to an old Cottonwood tree.

What seemed to Hime’ as an hour, the battle had only lasted a few short minutes and it was over. Patinewah returned to his side, surrounding him, a band of seven men and women began appearing from the brush, each dragging behind them a dog-like carcass. As they began heaving them into a pile on the desert floor, Hank came screaming down on his ATV,

HIME! ARE YOU OK? WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED? WHO ARE THESE PEOP… WHOA WHAT THE HELL ARE THOSE THINGS? he yelled pointing to the pile of bodies. So many questions and not an answer came from Hime’.

They both stood there dumbfounded as they watched. First the bodies were piled up then the strange visitors went out and brought back the bails of pot throwing them onto the piles. Hime’ and Hank watched as the troop poured fuel all over the bodies and proceeded to set them on fire.

A great plume of thick green smoke rose from the combination of canine carnage and dope. Whew! That stinks something horrible. Hank said, as he began choking and put his hand over his mouth and nose. What does? Hime’ asked, still with somewhat of a look of disorientation on his face the smell of burning flesh? No, Hank coughed out, That damn pot. It smells like skunk and it burns the shit out of my eyes. And who are all these people? One of the men brought the last of the carcasses to the flames.He was about to chuck it into the fire when Hank motioned his hand to stop him. I want to see this thing," Hank insisted. The man he had stopped was Yarnell.

He was the dominant male, a dark, tall and muscular brute, brandishing long black hair, which looked like it was greased back into a ponytail and tied with a leather thong that was tipped with silver dipped deer antler points. The thong wrapped ponytail lay against his dark long-tailed canvas coat. Tucked inside was the original Bowie knife that once belonged to the legendary Alamo war hero, Jim Bowie. The knife was indeed original’ it was made of pure silver and handled with the butt of a worn elk antler. Yarnell, Hank later discovered, had taken it from the body of one of the ‘Yotes in a skirmish that took place over a century ago just south of San Antonio.

Yarnell did not talk much and he definitely did not take well to