Akers

By R. Alsbury

Peaceful, quiet, friendly. Arivaca had always been that way. A small Arizona desert town far away from the city. Artists, ranchers, loners, and families, all live safely amid beautiful landscapes, amazing and abundant wildlife, incredible desert flora, and stunning sunsets. A great place to live...or disappear.

Rancher Johnston Porter and Deputy Miguel Avila are driven to solve the mystery of people suddenly missing without a trace. What they learn frightens them. Where the clues lead them is beyond comprehension.

• Language: English
• Publisher: R. Alsbury
• Release date: Nov 12, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463903223

Book preview

THE CAT DOWNSHIFTED TO a lower gear as Johnston nudged the front end loader over the top of a fairly large knoll of cholla at the far east end of his ranch. The tractor wasn’t much to look at, rusty, dented and well used. He knew it had a lot of hours on it before he bought it at a City of Tucson surplus property auction the year before, and he hoped he wouldn't have to put too much time and money into it to make it useable.

Johnston likened it to himself, a lot of hours, but he was relieved to hear the strength in its motor as he started up the 1985 Caterpillar for the first time. It had the enclosed cab he needed for protection from the treacherous needles covering the cholla, and he wanted something with tracks so he could crush the cactus assuring its destruction. The loader's large shovel worked as an additional shield and could knock down a large swath of the cholla with one pass.

He had no remorse taking out a native plant and, like most Arizonans, had no love for the treacherous plant. Johnston had had his share of run-ins with cholla as he worked his ranch over his lifetime. The short cylindrical stems that grew atop each other and that comprised the shrubby growing plant, had nailed him a few times as he focused on an animal he was trying to corral, and not where he was walking or riding. Its long sharp, sometimes barbed spikes covered the entirety of the plant. Jumping cholla seemed to be the worst. Just standing in close proximity seemed to be enough for a stem to suddenly attach itself to clothing, pets or livestock.

Most of the cholla on his ranch grew on the east side of his property, and thinned out considerably west from there. There were still small patches to be found in and around Arivaca, Arizona. But their troublesome and painful nature wasn't why Johnston was clearing them from his land. It was something about them that was so much more ominous.

At 52, amicably divorced and a father of one, Johnston Porter had been born and raised on this same ranch five miles from the old southwest town of Arivaca, the son of Caleb and Brenda. Caleb bought the ranch for pennies when he was just 23, determined to make a good life with his sweetheart, raise kids, cattle and maybe some horses. It was all Johnston had ever known as home, yet it sometimes felt foreign to him.

Johnston thought about his mom and dad as he mowed down several more of the cholla. A large branch of one of the plants broke apart and flew up over the top of the loader striking the front window of the cab, breaking into a hundred little treacherous pieces. Johnston startled, ducked instinctively. Chunks of the green stems wedged into the nooks and crannies of the tractor, around the doors, in the track gears, and lodged into the radiator grill like a grotesque hood ornament.

He was glad he’d worn thick leather boots, heavy Carhart overalls and the gloves a cacti nursery had recommended. Just exiting the tractor without getting stuck was tricky enough much less removing the cholla from the Cat so it wouldn’t clog the works. Sometimes a dark oily substance spewed out of the stems, making a mess of his windshield and the tractor, and was nearly impossible to remove cleanly. Johnston used a pitchfork to remove stems, not trusting the gloves entirely, just so he could reload the tractor on its trailer.

It was almost noon and the day was already a lot warmer than Johnston thought it would be by now. He’d hoped to clear a lot more but without air conditioning he was already feeling miserable and now his stomach was starting to grumble. To get an extra early start on this morning, Johnston had skipped breakfast, grabbed a cooler filled with water, a couple of energy bars his daughter left behind at her last visit home, and headed out.

He climbed down off the tractor carefully picking his way avoiding the cholla stems as best he could. His newer Dodge 3500 dually and trailer was parked in the shade of a large mesquite tree nearby and its slightly cooler shelter gave him a chance to hydrate and munch down the bars.

Resting for a moment, he closed his eyes, his long lanky frame easing into his seat. Clearing the cholla always brought all those memories back, a frightening and painful chapter in his childhood. Dozing off, he remembered it all.

Back then the late spring day had been mild, and for once Caleb and eleven year-old Johnston had finished their chores without feeling like they'd been working inside an oven. Brenda brought out some sweet lemonade and brownies she had made for the two while they both sat with boots resting up on the front porch rail. Johnston often mimicked his dad's mannerisms, and Brenda smiled whenever she noticed it.

As she stepped back inside, Brenda scolded, Don't dawdle too long you two. Dinner will be ready in an hour and I want you both showered and in clean clothes.

Caleb gave Johnston a wink, and they both settled lower into their porch chairs and laid their heads back.

Just a few minutes longer, Johnston, then you hit the shower first, ok? Johnston nodded.

Brenda put on a big spaghetti dinner, Johnston's favorite, and the boy enjoyed a second helping that filled his plate.

For a scrawny little kid, Caleb teased, you sure can eat! Johnston smiled a spaghetti-sauce grin. It had been a great day.

After dinner, Caleb and Johnston helped Brenda with the dishes, and before long had the kitchen squared away and ready for the next day.

Hey Johnston, his father asked, Did you put the tools away in the barn like I told you? We might get some rain tonight. The summer monsoon season wasn't due to start for a month or so, but the sky had looked threatening just the same.

Johnston rolled his eyes. I'll do it right now, sorry Dad.

That's ok son, Caleb said, just make sure you get the ones we left leaning by the side door of the barn too.

With the clouds rolling in overhead, the evening was darker than usual, and by the time Johnston got out to the barn, he wished he'd brought his flashlight. Managing to find the rakes, shovels and a couple of hand tools he'd left out in front of the barn, he had a tougher time making his way to the side door without tripping over the uneven ground.

Knowing there was cholla on that side of the barn, he decided to go back to the house to get the flashlight. Better safe than sorry, he thought, but stopped in his tracks when he heard a rustling noise in the brush near him and a strange snapping noise. Backing slowly away, it was too late. He had disturbed a javelena and her babies and she was on the attack defending her brood.

Charging the boy, Johnston fell backwards screeching and scrambled to get back on his feet. Just as he got to his knees, he saw the animal coming again, but that did not frighten him as much as what was behind it. Barely visible were shadowy, floating figures coming towards him. He couldn't make out a distinct shape, but between the javelena and whatever they were, the boy was terrified.

Johnston, Johnston, where are you? It was his dad yelling and he could hear him running towards him.

The boy's eyes were fixed on the shapes coming ever closer and he could barely respond except with a small whimper. When he thought both the pig-like beast and the shadows would overtake him, a bright light swarmed around him as Caleb swung his flashlight around trying to find the boy.

Caleb gasped and yelled at what he saw. His son was being attacked by a javelena, and strange ghost-like shadows that seemed to explode into a million tiny pieces as soon as the bright light hit them. He wasn't even sure what he'd seen. At Caleb's appearance and shouting, the javelena made a quick U-turn and her and her piglings disappeared back into the brush.

Caleb raced to Johnston and quickly scooped up his son and raced to bring him inside the house. Brenda gasped at the sight of her husband carrying the boy, pants torn, his elbow bleeding and her son nearly hysterical.

What happened, what happened? she demanded.

As Caleb explained what he'd seen, Brenda tended to Johnston's scrape. It was superficial, but she cleaned and bandaged it carefully and her tenderness seemed to calm the boy down. It didn't seem to have come from the javelena, but she wanted to avoid any infection. She listened quietly to Caleb, but shook her head at the mention of the ghosts.

You two must have been seeing things. Caleb, don't encourage the boy, you're scaring him.

Caleb saw the look in Brenda’s eyes, a look that doubted his sanity. He thought carefully, Hon, you're right. Johnston, we probably were just seeing things, it being dark and all.

He was saying that more for Brenda than Johnston, or himself. Johnston looked up at his father not understanding and started to protest. He knew what he had seen, but before he could say more, Caleb stopped him with a warning look.

Time to get on that homework Johnston, and then head to bed, ok, son? We'll talk about it in the morning, he said, but they never did.

Less than two months later, Brenda Porter would be gone.

Chapter Two

DONNIE MARCH WAS EMPTYING the kitchen dishwasher of its last load of beer glasses and carried them into the bar. He’d gone home early the night before too weary to finish set-up for the next day’s business, and was scrambling to get the back bar ready. Never late opening the bar at 11am as his regulars expected, the patrons would have to wait a moment before getting served, but he knew they wouldn't mind.

As they filed in from the heat outside, Donnie was surprised to see Caleb Porter among them. Caleb sat himself down at the bar while the rest grabbed spots close to the pool tables. A game or two and the usual one-upmanship banter and betting began among a few of the players.

You want a beer Caleb? Donnie asked as he pulled a Bud Light up from the cooler below the bar counter.

Caleb nodded, and took a swig from the bottle ignoring the glass Donnie had put out for him.

Been up to the Amado feed store picking up some immunizations I had on order and some feed. Thought I’d stop by and say hi before heading home. Been awhile.

Yeah, yeah it has. Donnie acknowledged, also knowing Caleb had to pass his ranch to get to the tavern so there must be something more Caleb intended.

The insignificant conversation went on between the two as Donnie brought beers and drinks over to the other customers. None of them had to order as Donnie knew them all and their preferences. If they’d wanted something else they would have hollered up about it while walking in the door. Only a few non-locals stopped by this time of day, mostly showing up on the weekends.

The rectangular bar was a comfy place, nothing fancy, and included the usual dart boards, the pool tables, several booths along one wall, and a dozen or so small tables between the booths and an L-shaped bar counter. The walls were adorned with photos of local scenery, license plates from around the country, horseshoes for good luck, and a nice variety of old branding irons from ranches in the area. The rest of the furnishings were somewhat dated, but Donnie had invested in a good juke box when he bought the place, and most weekend nights the bar was busy and loud.

Early in the day it was just Donnie and a short order cook setting up in the kitchen. As customer workdays ended, a couple of younger locals Sharon and Lucy helped out in the evenings and weekends while Donnie manned the bar.

Caleb knew this would be a good time to talk with Donnie on the quiet, with few customers. Dan the mostly unsociable cook, would be busy in the back. Since Caleb rarely came in, Donnie expected something more important than weather reports and the latest on Border Patrol doings would come up when Caleb was ready. Chances were it would be about Brenda, and so it was.

Donnie and Caleb had known each other since high school basketball days, both growing up in Benson just east of Tucson off the 10 freeway on the way to New Mexico. They’d stayed in touch after graduation and when Donnie bought the bar in Arivaca, Brenda and Caleb came down from their place in Tucson for the grand opening. They liked the area and thought it might be a good place to raise a family, so when Donnie called about a ranch he knew was available through a distress sale, the two jumped at the opportunity.

Donnie was a good-looking likeable guy who made friends quickly, and his connections made it easier for Brenda and Caleb to settle into the community. On Mondays when the bar was closed, he frequently was a guest for dinner at their house, and the conversations were easy and comfortable.

Say Donnie, I’d like to ask you a favor, Caleb finally opening up to why he was there as he ran his fingers back thru his blond hair.

Sure, whatcha need?

I worry about Brenda, Caleb hesitated. Well, not worried, just concerned, you know, about her safety.

Oh? Donnie asked trying to sound surprised a bit. He was dreading the thought that Caleb might think Brenda was cheating on him, and he did not want to have to deal with that.

I know she only has a Mondelo, maybe two, when she’s down here, but she drives that old Toyota and I worry…if she did drink maybe more than that…and I doubt it, I really doubt it...well, you know, she could have an accident…or something. Caleb began to ramble and checked himself waiting for Donnie’s response.

Yeah, I see what you mean Caleb, but she rarely ever has more than one beer or two like you said, and usually has something to eat with it, you know, some hot wings, or something. I see where that could be a worry though. Donnie offered.

So, so I was thinking, and maybe on the QT. I wouldn’t want Brenda to know – you know how independent she is, if, well, maybe if you thought she might be in trouble somehow, with too much to drink, well, maybe you could give me a call, and I’ll come down and drive her home, you know kind of casual like, like I just wanted a beer too.

Caleb had never had a harder time putting a sentence together in his life. To ask for any kind of help was difficult for him, and on such a personal level, it was painful.

All on the QT, ok Donnie? No one else needs to know.

Donnie looked at him searching to see if there was something else he wanted to say, but there was nothing. Caleb genuinely believed Brenda would never cheat on him, and Donnie had to admit, he believed it too.

You bet Caleb, absolutely no problem.

Caleb nodded at Donnie, took the last swallow of Bud, slid off his barstool, turned and walked out the door. Donnie heard his truck start up and back out of the gravel parking lot and drive quickly away. He knew this was difficult for Caleb, and was embarrassed for his friend.

Chapter Three

JOHNSTON'S DAD WAS A singularly focused man. He’d had nothing growing up, so making the ranch a success was everything to him and he worked day and night attending to every detail, much to Brenda’s disappointment. She was a bit of a wild-child, and often went into town for some fun at the local tavern while Caleb fussed with tack or worked on paying the bills and looking over the budget.

The Minero Tavern, the only tavern in Arivaca, was used to seeing Brenda come in alone, order her usual Mondelo Blanco with a wedge of lime, and join in conversation with the locals who frequented the place. She never stayed really late, and though she danced with any cowboy that asked, always went home alone to Caleb.

Brenda loved Caleb fiercely, but he wasn’t a big talker and Brenda needed that. She knew Caleb loved her but she wished his need to provide everything for her would include a little affection and attention more than just once in a while.

Johnston was just eleven and was busy doing homework early one evening in the spring. He was having trouble with fifth grade math, and his mother usually helped him with it. On this evening though Caleb was feeling testy with Brenda because she wanted to go into town to the tavern to show off her new car to her friends. She rarely went on a weekday evening, so Caleb and she were arguing on the front porch.

She was a devoted mother to Johnston, but after his birth she was unable to carry a second child to term, and in fact had trouble even getting pregnant. Both she and Caleb were heartbroken and after losing a third pregnancy since Johnston was born, they gave up the notion of having more children. Caleb became even more withdrawn, and though they rarely argued in front of him, Johnston could sense the tension.

So on this evening,