Finding Gold

By Thomas 'DOC' Savage

A man prospecting for gold in the Sonoran Desert and a young boy riding his dirt bike: both witness a horrendous crime and become the target of an egotistical killer. The common thread brings man and boy together, but only the grace of God can save them. How will their differences bring them together? And can something very valuable come out of this tragedy?

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.C. Hulsey Books
• Release date: Mar 11, 2024
• ISBN: 9798223854173

Thomas 'DOC' Savage

Thomas Savage is a non-denominational minister who has pastored churches in Florida, New York and Arizona. He writes Christian-themed adventure stories in his 'spare time'. Before entering the ministry he worked at a wide variety of occupations, from short-order cook to factory worker to hunting and fishing guide. This wealth of experience allows him to create stories that are fast-paced and exciting, and characters that are believable and identifiable. The vast majority of those stories are family friendly, (except for 'One Man's Odyssey', which deals with adult themes). The plots are all new and unique. He currently lives in Tucson, Arizona with his wife and their four-legged 'grand puppies'. He is the Pastor of Amphitheater Bible Church, the "Friendliest Church in Tucson"

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

There is still gold to be found in the desert, if you know where to look. And Billy George knows where to look. He wasn’t getting rich by it, but all his needs were met, so he figured he was pretty well off. Anyway, it beat the pants off of flipping burgers in a greasy spoon in Tucson.

Billy was born in a Hogan on the Navajo reservation sixty-four years ago. His mother was a Navajo and his father was a gringo. That made him a half-breed, and that made him inferior in the eyes of his Indian relatives and in the eyes of his white relatives. He didn’t find acceptance with any of them. 

That was okay with Billy. He much preferred the solitude of the Sonoran Desert where there was no one to look down on him. He could spend his days digging in the dry washes, in those places where he knew small bits of gold might be found. He could spend the evenings on the front porch of his small cabin, playing his old guitar and watching the stars circle overhead.

He didn’t have much in terms of material things, but he didn’t need much, either. His narrow waist was clothed in ancient blue jeans. A faded chambray shirt clothed his broad shoulders and covered the muscles of his arms that were as strong as steel cables. His snow-white hair was hidden beneath a battered, sweat-stained cowboy hat, and the creases of his face were so deep they looked like they had been carved there with a knife.

Billy was so well-suited to his solitary lifestyle that he really dreaded the occasional need to take his small sack of gold into Tucson to cash it in so he could purchase those items necessary for continued existence. But really, his needs were few. Life was good.

*****

Little Andy Young loved the desert, too, but for a much different reason. Andy loved riding his old dirt bike past the tall saguaro cactus and the thorny mesquite thickets. With the hot Arizona sun on his face and the rumble of his bike under him as he sped across the sand, there was nobody to tease him because of the stutter he couldn’t control.

Andy had been afflicted with the malady most of his life. It made it difficult, sometimes impossible, for him to express himself. It also made him the constant victim of some of his small-minded peers who saw him only as fair game for their taunts and laughter.

He much preferred the solitude and quietness of the desert. Out there, with his bike roaring under him, his speech defect didn’t cause him any pain. Physically, he was as big as any of the other twelve-year-old kids in the area and stronger than most. Because their teasing had often gotten out of hand, Andy had learned early how to fight and how to inflict as much pain on his tormentors with his fists as they did to him with their taunts. Most of them had adopted a tease-and-run strategy in order to have their fun at his expense, while avoiding his fists.

Andy’s face and arms were burned brown by the desert sun. His curly, blonde hair stuck out from beneath his scuffed-up old helmet. Alone in the desert, with his bike rumbling beneath him, there was nobody to make fun of him. Out there, he could ride freely across the sand with the coyotes, javelinas and road-runners. Life was good.

*****

José Rivera was not a nice man. He was a soldier in the army of one of the biggest smugglers of illegal drugs in all of Mexico. But José wasn’t happy being just another soldier, no matter how well he was paid. He hungered to be one of the Jefes; to be one of the chiefs at the top of the operation. And now he had a plan for how to get there.

José was a small man, barely five feet four and one hundred-twenty pounds. His handsome Latin face, with snapping black eyes and carefully styled black hair, was only marred by a scar running from his left ear to the corner of his mouth. It was a thin scar, and it gave a sinister appearance to his smile. José liked his scar. He thought it made him look dangerous. José wanted very much to be seen as a dangerous man.

Today José was overseeing a group of four young men from the city of Nogales, Mexico. They were being paid to carry backpacks containing about fifty pounds of pure cocaine each. The young men were called mules, and they were carrying nearly two hundred pounds of ‘product’ across the border. Their burden was worth a fortune in El Norte, the U.S.A.

It was José’s intention to make that fortune his own today and too bad for anyone who got in his way. Beneath his gray University of Arizona sweatshirt, nestled under his belt at the small of his back, was a nine-millimeter Glock, loaded with fifteen hollow-nose bullets.

José had led his group of mules more than ten miles into the desert north of the border where they were to meet a driver with a small truck. The driver was to pick up their load of product and transport it the rest of the way to Phoenix. That’s where José’s plan was going to take over.

He was totally psyched for the unfolding of his plan and beyond cranky by the time they arrived at the intended meeting spot. His blue jeans had protected his legs from the worst of the thorns he had walked past, but his cowboy boots, so stylish in the city, were poorly suited for this long walk into the desert. As soon as the truck showed up, the automatic pistol in his belt was going to make all that valuable product his own.

His plan, after dealing with the driver, was to use the truck to take the product to Los Angeles instead of Phoenix. It was a dangerous plan because the Jefes in Mexico would want the product back, along with José’s head. José was confident he could outwit them. After all, he was a dangerous man. Life was about to become very good.

CHAPTER TWO

Andy’s mom stood in the kitchen of their small, rented house south of Tucson and called for Andy to come get his breakfast. She was five-feet-eight and maybe forty pounds overweight. She called it being pleasingly plump and wasn’t too worried about her weight since she had no man to try to look good for. Andy’s dad had deserted them when Andy was three years old.

Her curly, light brown hair brushed her shoulders, and her face was somewhere between pretty and gorgeous. Her wide, green eyes and tiny, button nose were mirrored in the face of her son.

C’mon, Andy, before your eggs get cold.

K...’kay, M..Mom. I’m c...c...comin’. Andy pushed his feet into his boots, low-heeled ropers, and pulled a clean t-shirt over his head as he hurried to the kitchen.

Mornin’, sweetheart. How you doin’ today?

I’m g...g...good, M...Mom. H...how are y...you?

Well, I’m doin’ okay so far. Sit down and eat your breakfast. What are you planning on doin’ today?

Wanna ri...ride...down to R...R...Ruby; l...l...look around. O...okay?

Why, sure, Honey. It’s real nice down there. Just make sure you’ve got enough gas to get back.

Ruby was a ghost town that had grown up around a silver mine south of Tucson. It was now slowly returning to the desert and was a great place for exploring.

I can make you a couple sandwiches to take with you, okay?

Th...th...that’d be g...g...great, M..Mom. Th...th...thanks a l..lot.

Sure. Peanut butter okay?

Y..y..yeah, that’d be g...g...good.

While his mom was packing a lunch, Andy went out the back door to check on his bike. His motorcycle was his pride and joy. It was a 200 c.c. Honda Scrambler from 1976. He had spent the better part of a year rebuilding it with the help of an owner’s manual. He had bought it for forty dollars from a junk yard where it had been abandoned, because the motor was seized up. Andy had always been good with his hands, so he had lovingly taken the motor apart and rebuilt it. The work had gone slowly. He had to purchase the new parts one at a time with money he had made collecting aluminum cans and selling them at the recycling center.

All the work had been worth it, though. The bike now ran like new and always started at the first kick. Andy loved his bike.

He filled the tank from a two-gallon gas can, checked the oil and the pressure in the tires. Then, he filled a one-quart plastic oil can with gas and stored it in his handmade saddlebags. If he ever did run out of gas, that extra quart would carry him a long way.

By the time he had finished his check list, his mom came out with a brown paper bag containing two peanut butter sandwiches and an apple. She never worried about Andy going off by himself like this. She knew he was a very good and careful rider. She also knew how much he enjoyed being where there were no bullies to humiliate him because of his speech defect.

Have a good time, Honey, she said as Andy stowed the lunch in the other side of his saddlebags. Bring me back something pretty.

Okay, M...Mom. S...s...see you l...later. He buckled his helmet, kicked the starter