Rachel the Warrior

Rachel the Warrior

Part Four

Unexpected challenges

Recap; After a failed meeting with Tom's parents and losing her pregnancy in an accident, Rachel has gone out on the road seeking new answers. Now she has returned to Juniper, Nevada, hoping to restore the hot springs, but other events will soon overshadow her efforts. Rachel doesn't know her life is about to change in ways she can't imagine.

* * * * * *

Chapter Seven

CAVE DWELLERS

The week that followed was busy. Rachel enjoyed several days at Jay Silverhawk's ranch, riding horses, feeding the chickens, and visiting with Joanna's two-year-old daughter, renamed Rachel Little Bear. Jay, a respected member of the nearby Te-Moak tribe, had once served as a U.S. Army Ranger. With the troubles caused by Mason in the past, his ranch was thriving. They raised glasses in a toast to Joanna's memory.

"You spend a lot of time on your computer," Jay mentioned, sitting on his porch with Rachel. It was a quiet night, the moon lingering on the horizon. The rocking chairs were crafted from old maple.

"It's a new matrix. Or would have been," Rachel said.

"More healthcare?"

"No. This one would curtail the planet's exposure to poisons. In time, it might have restored the air and the oceans."

"The entire planet?"

"Half the planet would be inefficient."

"That is a sacred responsibility. My people care much for the land."

"I don't know what kind of responsibility it is. The direction of my research is unclear."

"I sense this worries you."

"It worries me very much."

"Is it failure that concerns you?"

"Not in the way many think of failure."

"Rachel, you are one with the spirits. They will guide your path."

"I hope so. Is Rachel Little Bear asleep?"

"Yes. She had a busy day with her beloved godmother."

"Good," Rachel said. "Do you have more of that moonshine whiskey?"

* * * * * *

"Tom was right about the townspeople resisting a massive development," Rachel regretted over lunch at Flo's. The salad was good, spiced with peppered cheese and cherry tomatoes.

"Only a few expressed objections, and Mr. Beggs is offering good suggestions," Tom said.

"I should have anticipated their concerns," Rachel lamented.

"Rach, you're a scientist, not a social worker. You can't predict everyone's behavior," Rory consoled.

"It's not just Juniper. There's another project. A bigger one. If I was so wrong about this, I could be wrong about everything," Rachel explained.

"Damn it, honey, you're not wrong about Juniper. People want this. We just need to fit the new in with the old. We'll figure it out," Rory insisted.

"I'm thinking of asking Sheba to come up. Have some meetings," Rachel revealed.

"Sheba?" Rory asked.

"Did I forget to mention that? Sheba is my business partner. She handles all the financial stuff. She's better at negotiating than I am."

"Business isn't your strongest subject," Tom agreed.

"I've never been good with money," Rachel admitted. "If it wasn't for Mother, I'd still be poor."

"You're worth two billion dollars, Rach," Rory said.

"Yeah. Don't expect that to last very long," Rachel replied.

Grubby Barnes appeared in front of the coffee shop, riding Hank and leading five additional mules, one loaded with supplies. Bob McLane was with him, wearing a wide-brimmed cowboy hat and hiking clothes for a trip into the wilderness.

"Let's git a goin', Pebble. Time's a wasting," Grubby shouted.

"You guys don't have to go, if you don't want to," Rachel said.

"No way are we missing this," Rory answered, paying the check.

Rachel had set aside her cowgirl clothes, choosing khakis and a fedora. She looked like a female Indiana Jones. Tom and Rory were dressed casually in jeans and sweaters.

They rode out of town, Rachel and Grubby in the lead, Rory and Tom with the pack mule, and McLane bringing up the rear, watching for trouble. He had a hunting rifle slung over his shoulder.

"Pebble and I used to go way out in the desert," Grubby said, pointing west. "Found every kind of rock there is. She gathered plants. No insects, though. Said no insects had harmed her, so she weren't going to harm them."

"I wouldn't mind harming a few of these damn flies," Rory complained, waving several away.

They traveled north through light woods. The highway was to their right, for a time, and then disappeared. Flatlands became low hills until they finally came to a series of colorful rock basins protected by steep cliffs. Rachel dismounted.

"When trappers arrived two hundred years ago looking for beaver pelts, there were hot springs all through this area," Rachel explained. "Then someone discovered silver, blew holes in the mountains, and brought in hydraulic mining. The hot springs went underground. Locals thought they dried up."

Rachel walked to the granite cliff, pointing at swirls of red, yellow, and green running through the face. There were flakes of fool's gold. Traces of a long-lost creek meandered down toward the forest.

"I've had geologists working here for months," Rachel said. "We're looking for ways to draw the water back up. After that, the springs should flow naturally again. Dr. Hagenmeyer said there's a cave we should inspect before deciding which channel to flood."

"I don't see a cave," Tom said, joining her at the wall.

"It should be right over here," Rachel guessed, exploring a shallow canyon. Her crew followed, McLane remaining behind for a better view of the trail. Grubby led his pack mule.

"Everything here is just gorgeous, Rach," Rory said. "People are going to love it."

"It would make a great national park," Tom speculated.

"They didn't want none of it," Grubby said. "They was asked for years but couldn't be bothered. It's private property now."

"All of this?" Rory asked.

"Three miles along the highway, and twelve miles in," Grubby confirmed.

"Owned by who?" Tom asked.

Grubby looked at Rachel. She looked down shyly.

"Mr. Silverhawk owns a strip at the northern end," Rachel said. "Mariposa Spring is on his ranch. Mr. Beggs and Maisie share parcels at the southern end. That's where we're building the new motel and casino. I own the rest."

"This whole forest?" Rory questioned.

"There was an auction for most of it. Sheba did the bidding for me," Rachel explained. "She leveraged the rest, whatever that means. Once the park is open, the admittance fees will be kept low. Just enough for maintenance. We'll make money on the hotel and restaurants."

"Listen to you. Such a businesswoman," Rory said.

"I don't know much about that," Rachel protested. "Old technology ruined the land, and modern technology will restore it. Now give me a hand."

They found a heavy plywood board on the ground painted with a red X, and a metal tripod set over it. Rachel tried to drag the board away but couldn't budge it. It took both Tom and Grubby to lift the sheet up.

"There's a hole," Rory realized.

"It's not a hole, it's a cave," Rachel corrected. "Grubby, I need the rope and sling."

"Rope?" Rory said.

"I'm going down to take a look. Dr. Hagenmeyer says it's beautiful."

"You're not going down into that hole on a rope," Rory said, blocking her.

"It's what I came here for, Ro. I need to see how we're going to restore the water channel. We may need pumps, or natural pressure from below. Look, the engineers have already completed the groundwork. You can see the steam."

They saw wisps of delicate white smoke rising from the opening.

"It doesn't look safe," Tom worried.

"I'll be okay. Come on, Grubby, give me a hand."

Grubby rigged a pulley to the tripod above the chasm and helped Rachel into the sling. Tom didn't like where Grubby was putting his hands, even if he was an old man. Rachel didn't seem to mind.

"This won't take long," Rachel said, taking a device out of her pack.

"I haven't seen one of those before. What is it?" Rory asked.

"The techs at WHD whipped this up for me. It has a laser, radar, soil analyzer, temperature gauge, humidity recorder, a density calculator, and GPS. And it's a flashlight."

"What does it do?" Rory said.

"Ro, it does whatever I want it to do. That's the whole idea."

"You invented it?" Rory asked.

"Not exactly. I sketched the schematics for the techs at WHD and they assembled it for me."

"It's a tricorder," Tom said, looking it over.

"A who?" Rachel asked.

"A tricorder. Like on Star Trek," Tom clarified.

"Someone else already invented it?" Rachel questioned.

"No, Rach. Star Trek is a TV show," Tom replied.

"Why would a TV show need a tricorder?" she inquired.

"It's science fiction," Tom answered. "Haven't you ever seen Star Trek?"

"Like with robots and aliens?" Rachel asked.

"It's more than robots and aliens," Tom indignantly protested.

"Tell me about it when we're dancing tonight," Rachel replied, positioning to enter the cave. "Okay, Grubby, hand me the dynamite."

"Whoa, wait! Dynamite?" Rory said.

"Don't worry, it won't explode until I attach the blasting cap," Rachel said. "Unless I bang it too hard. The instructions say that would be bad."

Before Rory could stop her, Rachel pushed back and disappeared down the hole. Grubby was guiding her descent with a motorized crank. He noticed Rory and Tom's distressed expressions.

"You're her boyfriend? And you're her sister?" Grubby asked.

"You already know that," Rory answered.

"Then what are you worried about? Don't you know her? That little girl can do whatever she sets her mind to," Grubby lectured.

Tom helped with the pulley. Rory tried to relax. It wasn't easy.

After descending twenty-five feet through a narrow stone tube, Rachel found herself hanging in a large crystalized cavern. She used her flashlight to inspect the surroundings, the walls sparkling in unique glittering patterns. She began using the tricorder, testing the results her geologists had sent her.

Puffs of warm air blew beneath her, not enough to make breathing difficult. Though she had a mask if she needed it. Freeing the hot springs would not result in a geyser. Not like those seen in Yellowstone. But in time, the cavern would fill and overflow into the basins running along the base of the cliffs. There was a sulfuric smell, neither strong nor unpleasant.

Rachel's mind began to drift, mesmerized by the ancient beauty surrounding her. A haze crept up, pushing aside one reality and replacing it with another. There were numbers, but not just numbers. Rachel heard voices. At first they were speaking English. Rory and Tom. Then another language. Te-Moak? She didn't know it well enough, but the words were familiar. There were other voices. Older. Harsher. Guttural. She felt herself moving back in time. Different people. Different animals. Different beliefs. But a commonality. Family. Tribe. A struggle for existence. They were gone now. What had happened to them? Something bad?

The stick of dynamite was clutched in her hand. A mechanized solution to old problems. She attached the blasting cap, secured the timer, and gazed down to the clogged vent below her. The hot springs had flowed for a thousand generations. A simpler people in a simpler era. The hot springs would flow again, for a new generation, with new problems.

Level 14. She tried to push those thoughts away. Troubling, confusing thoughts. Thoughts filled with fear. Like the hot springs, the world could be restored. Level 14 would do that. But not without a price. A price many would not want to pay. They would need to be forced. Forced by a matrix. An algorithm. Numbers she would have to impose on them. Could she do that? Was it right? What if she didn't? What would the future look like then? Basins of dry stone filled with colors from the past? A desert?

Rachel began crying, holding the stick of TNT against her chest. Her fingers tightened on the primer. Why did it need to be her decision? Her responsibility? She didn't want it. She didn't want anything. Nothing but a simple life.

"Rachel? Rachel?" she heard Rory calling, the sound echoing throughout the chamber.

Rachel realized she was suspended in mid-air, hanging in a dark abyss. The digital timer on the TNT stick was counting down. Sixty, fifty-nine, fifty-eight, fifty-seven. She stared at the receding numbers in wonderment, and then tugged on the rope. The rope tugged back. She was being pulled up. She couldn't go up with the dynamite. That was a different solution to a different problem. She let it go, watching it spiral down into the shadowy depths. Then there was a muffled explosion.

"Hurry! Hurry!" Rory shouted as Tom and Grubby tugged on the line. McLane had arrived with the First Aid kit.

Smoke flowed from the opening. The rope swayed back and forth. Rory heard crashing and crumbling coming from down below. She reached down blindly to grab the rope, or anything. And then Rachel appeared, still secure in her sling.

"Got her! Keep pulling," Rory urged.

Rachel emerged from the dark hole, swinging beneath the tripod support. Rory pulled her over, dragged her a dozen feet away, and undid the straps. She found Rachel in a deep haze, oblivious to her surroundings. Rory made her sit up, took hold of her arms, and looked into her eyes.

"Rachel. Rachel. It's me, Rory. Your sister. Rachel," Rory calmly said.

It took a few minutes, but Rachel's eyes gradually focused. She appeared mildly confused.

"Hi, Ro. What's going on?" Rachel asked.

"You fell into a haze."

"I'm okay now. The cave was really pretty," Rachel gushed. "Psalm 96:6.'"

"Which is?" Rory questioned with a smile.

"Splendor and majesty are before Him; strength and beauty fill His sanctuary."

"Sounds like something to see," Tom said.

"It might never look the same," Rachel supposed. "By next spring, the cave will be underwater."

"It's almost underwater now," Grubby said, pulling his rope and equipment back.

They all heard it. Water bubbling up. The steam was hotter. More pronounced. They moved back from the entrance to watch.

"Have a snort?" Grubby asked, producing a flask of Wild Turkey.

"Thank you, Mr. Barnes," Rachel said, taking a hearty sip.

The lightly wooded forest was quiet. The mules grazed in a meadow. Rory found sandwiches in a picnic basket and blankets to sit on. After a few hours, the first trickle of steaming water flooded over the top and down into the nearest basin. They felt the warmth. The smell of sulfur. Colors in the rock changed, growing brighter. Coming alive.

"This is amazing," Rory said.

"You did it, Rach. You restored the hot springs," Tom praised.

Rachel wasn't sure if she agreed. She didn't remember doing anything.

* * * * * *

"You scared us today," Tom cautioned.

"I'm sorry I've been crazy lately," Rachel apologized.

They were curled up in bed at the Blue Bell, a three-quarter moon visible through the window. Tom wrapped an arm around her, feeling the tension.

"Your mind is struggling with a problem. We all see that. Something big, like only you can do. It gets you confused, and it makes you mad. But you're going to figure it out. And I'll be here for you, whatever you need."

"You shouldn't have to work so hard," she complained. "I'm sorry to be so much trouble."

Tom pulled her closer. She was sniffling. Possibly crying. Quietly.

"Your mother explained this to me. In foster care, your caregivers didn't understand your condition. You were shuffled from one home to another. Ignored. Abandoned. They thought you were too much trouble, didn't they?"

"Yes."

"Rach, you're in a different world now. With people who love you. And know you. And who will never walk away. Not your mother, or Rory. Or me. You have faith in so many things. Please have faith in us."

"I try. I try so hard."

Tom stroked her long soft hair, feeling her slowly calming down. It was as Rory said. Rachel would find her balance if given time.

"We're almost wrapped up here. Where to next?" Tom asked.

"Home," Rachel said. "I need a little time at home."

"A little?"

"There's a project that requires resolution. I'm not sure if I can resolve it while staying at Canby Place. Too many distractions."

"Am I one of the distractions?" he prodded, snuggling closer.

"Yes, but not the only one."

"I still want to get married."

"I need to work some things out."

"My father?"

"Let's not talk about it tonight. It's been a long day."

Rachel slept late that morning, unaware of what was happening in town. She finally got up a little after ten, took a long shower, washed her hair, and dressed in her sexy cowgirl outfit. A leather strap held down the hammer on her holstered pistol.

Reporters appeared. Jay Silverhawk was waiting outside her door, also wearing a sidearm. She strolled out into the parking lot, finding a clear cool day.

"One of us should be with her at all times," Jay whispered to McLane. "My brother is ready if you need him."

"Thanks for the assist," McLane gratefully replied, knowing Rachel's frisky behavior could be challenging.

"No thanks are necessary," Jay insisted. "I love that woman. She put her life on the line for my family. The Te-Moak wish to make her an honorary member of the tribe."

Between Jay, Tom, and McLane, strangers would find it prudent to keep their distance. They didn't see any protesters.

"Big plans for today?" Rory asked over breakfast at Flo's. Rachel still thought the eggs were too dry.

"I want to visit around town," Rachel replied. "Nothing special. Just chat. Will you help me?"

"Of course, honey. Always," Rory assured her.

"The hot springs are filling up," Jay reported, outfitted in a rawhide outfit with a black wide-brimmed Stetson. "There's a team of naturalists making a film, and a photographer from National Geographic. I have Rocky and Blue Eagle keeping an eye on things."

"No littering. I hate littering," Rachel insisted.

"Or graffiti," McLane added. "I'll have Darnell dispatch a crew to enforce the rules."

"The Te-Moak elders wish to send security, too," Jay said. "It may be your land, but our people have roots there."

"The Te-Moak are always welcome, Jay," Rachel responded with surprise. "I don't own the land. I'm the caretaker for future generations."

"A caretaker with armed guards," Tom noticed.

"Life was so much easier when I was an anonymous lab girl," Rachel recalled. "I'd work on my projects. Go home and read my novels. Cook a simple meal. What happened to those days?"

"You decided to help billions of people and change the world. That's what happened," Rory said, squeezing her hand.

"I guess," Rachel replied.

As they finished eating, Grubby appeared outside the restaurant with Sarah, his most gentle mule.

"Cowgirl needs a mount," Grubby announced, helping Rachel into the saddle. "Who are we visiting first, Pebble?"

"Let's visit the clinic," Rachel replied. "I'm going to need an aspirin. And a pad for my butt."

Her entourage grew into a parade, Rachel riding her mule surrounded by three tall, formidable men. Rory followed with Grubby, Maisie, Patty, and a dozen others. Someone found balloons. The school bus returned early from Wells, children pouring out in excitement. A brass band played marching songs.

"This is getting nuts," Rory said as the boisterous crowd grew to several hundred.

"The town feels bad about the way they left it at Casper's," Sam the bartender explained. "Katie's never wanted anything but the best for us. Whether they go along with this big development or not, that doesn't change how they feel about her."

"Hey, Montgomery!" a reporter dared to shout. "That a real gun? Or are you a phony?"

That quieted the mob. Rachel turned, having heard the remark, and jumped off the mule.

"What was that?" she said, bursting through her security ring to get in the reporter's face.

A hundred phones were raised to record the encounter. The reporter was a brash young New Yorker, spiky-haired and thin, with a camera crew behind him. He was surprised to suddenly find Rachel Montgomery, petite and feisty, gazing up at him in defiance. The open buttons at the top of her shirt, and lack of a bra were distracting.