the back pack

2 30 in the morning on the Sonora desert is a quiet time.  Sam sat on his porch a cup of half warm coffee setting on the arm of his chair. he was staring out to the west at the outline of the javalina mountains. a slight glow could be seen along the top line. it was the last of the moon as it slid down in the west.  since his return from south east asia sam very seldom slept past 2 a m .   he didn't know why, and at times it was aggravating.  he didn't smoke anymore so coffee was his only friend in the wooley darkness. without even realizing it his mind had returned to a day years ago when he had led a patrol of young men into a ambush.a  communist ambush that cut down half of platoon of special forces before anyone had a chance to react. he and two others had fought then run and turned to fight again. the chirichaua apache john had effected a rear guard and kept the pursuing communists at bay. leap frogging sam and coalie had taken turns while they struggled through the triple canopy jungle. after a day of this they had taken cover in a cave . the pursuing army had stopped a quarter mile away and seemed afraid to close on the cave. that was when sam realized the cave was already occupied, a colony of lepers.  they came forward and offered water, and part of their meager rice supply.     after two days the communist forces left and sam and his two remaining men slipped out of the cave after dark and went back to the sight of the ambush.  the remains of their platoon was gone. only the bloody grass and trees remained.
    sam later took a months supply of food to the lepers. there were three less than when they had been there before.   what had become of the bodies of his men he never knew. it bothered him always, especially at night when he couldn't sleep.
    Sissy came to the screen door as daylight was illuminating the yard. she poured his cup full and went back inside, leaving that cleanscent in the air around him. sam never even turned his head. it was if she had been there since the beginning of time. soon the aroma of frying bacon and fresh boiling coffee mixed with scrambled eggs and green chile reached his nose. his belly grumbled and roiled from the over consumption of the coffee and the lack if solid food. sam got up and went inside and slid into  his chair at the old wooden table. Sissy layed a plate full of breakfast and Sam began to eat automaticly. Sissy had disappeared to her room and dressed. when she returned Sam was finishing his meal


    "lady you cook damn good. where you been all my life" he grinned at her
    " how would you know?" she asked " when you eat its like you have to."
   " ime sorry, I didn't realize I did that I guess I been by my self so long that I developed some bad habits."  he lowered his eyes.
    " its ok, slow down and maybe enjoy things, its the little things that make us all happy. good food, clean clothes, a good place to sleep." she spoke while she was clearing the dishes and running water in the sink.she turned to face him" you know since I been here I been happy, you treat me good, you don't bother me, you protect me. nobody has ever done that before. I think its respect. or is it you want me to tell you about Altar."
  " no , I don't want to know about that, your life is yours, just like mine is mine. you just deserve better than what you had. your pretty, your decent, and need some help. that's what I always have done is help. " sam murmmered
    "your good to me, and I like it. " Sissy went to washing the dishes
   a few hours later Sam rode a roan horse up to the crossing at the bender. looking up into the limbs of the mesquite tree that reached over the channel he could see the black patch that was the backpack.  four wheel nobby tire tracks had pulled up to the washed out crossing then spun around and left. he rode back to the corrals and checked the water level and salt blocks  in the feeders. cattle had been there since the four wheeler. riding back to the crossing sam sat there trying to figure out a plan of attack on the mesquite. the limbs wernt strong enough to hold him if climbed out on the limb to get the back pack. there was no way to reach it from the bank.  looking at the problem didn't seem to bring any ideas to mind. then , slowly he took his rope loose from the saddle and started building a loop. making a couple of swings with the loop he cast it at the limbs , not making a direct throw, just a cast. as he coiled the rope it snagged but wouldn't hold on any particular snag.after three tries Sam was on the verge of quitting when his loop took hold of a particularly strong snag. he pulled and the limb came to him but not close enough to reach the back pack. dallying the rope he turned the roan and rode away pulling the limb taught and over the bank. just when the roan couldn't pull anymore Sam heard a crack and a little slack came in the rope, the  roan stepped forward , straining into the rope, another loud crack and the limb broke loose and landed on the bank. looking back sam couldn't see the back pack. undallying the rope from the saddle horn he started to turn and ride back. but there by the corral was a black suburban, and rigsby was standing there with a m16 in his hands.