Chapter 3
Rocky Mountains Drifter
"I took off after dark, since I had no desire to have anyone know about the direction I was headed. I felt pretty sure Hadley would figure I split south for Mexico, not only because that's the traditional direction for anyone on the lam, but also because I'm half Mexican and to a guy like Hadley it would seem quite logical that I'd want to be with "my own kind of trash' as he put it.
"In reality I was headed north, and I hoped that I'd make a good thirty, maybe thirty-five miles before daybreak. In this part of the country that's quite a piece, and I would be able to rest up during the day without too much of a chance of being found. Anyway, I had planned it so that Hadley would not probably be back at the ranch for another day or so, so I had plenty of time to cover ground.
"I had been planning this ever since spring when I found out that Hadley was going to sell Buzz. Buzz is a four-year-old gelding bred at the Hadley Ranch, and he's the only thing in this world that I feel I really have a right to. Ever since he was a yearling, when I first came to work for Hadley, I spent day in day out with Buzz. I halter-broke him, broke him to the saddle, and taught him everything he knows. So when Hadley ups and says he's going to sell him to Slim Carter, I decided it was time to do something about that.
"I suppose that some sort of explanation is in order to clarify my relationship with Hadley, so I'll start at the beginning.
"My name is Rick Santos. Right now I'm sixteen and behind bars. Not the first time, but this time may be for longer than I care to think about.
"My dad was a Mexican migrant farm worker and a wino. He left my mother, an Okie from Tulsa, when I was about six. Never did see him again. My mom worked in a cafe and supplemented her income by balling truck drivers. When she got busted the last time, about three years ago, there was some dope involved in it, so they put her away in an institution in Kentucky. I was sent to a foster home, but having a wandering foot I soon wound up in a so-called corrective institution. It was Hadley who got me out on a sort of parole. He wanted to have cheap labor on that ranch of his, so the state of New Mexico was more than glad to stop feeding me and hand over to Hadley one sound juvenile Mexican-American.
"Hadley's place was near Pojoaque, north of Santa Fe in the valley of the Rio Grande. It consisted of about three hundred acres of fair pasture on which he ran quarter horses. That was why he chose me from the juvie lockup. The supervisor told him that I was familiar, with horses and had been working them since I was big enough to get into the saddle by myself.
"At first I liked being at the ranch, even though I was treated as a second class citizen. Hadley was prejudiced against blacks, browns and yellows, and I more or less fitted into the middle category, despite the fact I had my mom's blue eyes. But ranch life is great for a tough kid like myself, so I just let all those "greaseball" comments pass and did my work. I wrangled, mended fence and dug post holes. The usual ranch work. Also I saved all I could from the rotten wage I made. That's how I got my saddle and also my education. You see, Hadley did not pay much attention to the state conditions which required him to see to it I got an education. And in rural New Mexico, no one pays much attention to some dumb Mexican kid on a ranch. But I gave a damn, because I learned early that if you don't know anything, then everybody can screw you. So I invested my money in books, and although I had little formal schooling and no diplomas, I did have a fairly broad horizon that the books opened up for me.
"Well, when Hadley decided to sell Buzz I decided to head for that horizon.
"I planned it carefully, making my move when Hadley went off to the spring quarterhorse auction in Albuquerque. I took everything I needed. Sleeping bag, hobbles, cooking gear, several days food for me and extra feed for the stock. I took Hadley's 30-06 Winchester and my own Colt Woodsman .22 pistol. Then I got hold of Buzz's papers and forged them so they looked as if Hadley had sold him to me. I took along my sheepskin coat, the slicker and my best shotguns. The night after Hadley left for Albuquerque I packed the gear on Judy, Hadley's best pack mule, saddled up Buzz and headed north. Sam, the collie, lit out with me.
"Why did I do it? Buzz was all I had to love, I guess. Having worked him since I was fourteen, the year I came to the ranch, I had grown so fond of him that I could not bear to see him go to Slim Carter. Slim was a rodeo cowboy and wanted Buzz for a roping horse. Buzz would have made him a good one, but he was too good for Slim. That guy wore out horses the way the demolition derby guys do cars. I knew that after a couple of seasons Buzz would be a mess of bowed tendons and swollen hocks and his mouth would be a goddam abortion. So I decided to take Buzz, head north into Colorado, then west to Utah, where I hoped I could get work on some of the smaller ranches in the canyonlands of the southern part of the state. I knew I was burning my bridges behind me. I was stealing and crossing state lines with the things I had taken, so I would probably face some sort of Federal as well as state rap. But there was no other way. I had to go and be free.
"That first night was a beautiful experience. My whole heart seemed to sing with the joy of feeling untied and free. My family, the three animals, seemed to sense it too. Buzz snorted and farted, feeling his oats, Judy plodded behind us with nary a balk, and Sam bounded along with a happily lolling tongue and a delighted grin all over that pointed snout of his. The moon was out in a clear sky and bathed the valley of the Rio Grande in patterns of silver and gold. I remember distinctly how my heart leapt with excitement as I locked the last gate of the Hadley property behind me. I looked to the west and said goodbye to the massive peak of Santa Clara which loomed over the ranch, and, touching Buzz with a tap of my spur, headed north. A new life lay before me, behind was the past, no longer important.
"We made good time that night. I had for weeks worked with Buzz with the idea of leaving Hadley, teaching him to graze with his hobbles on and to get along on poor pasture while covering a lot of miles over rough country. So he was well muscled and tough, without any pounds of extra fat to burn. He was lean and rangy for a quarter-horse. Having been cut rather late, he had developed a strong sturdy neck and a generally powerful appearance. In the moonlight his chestnut coat shone with an erie silvery-gold glow and his white stockings seemed phosphorous bright. I whistled happily and chatted with him, Sam, and the mule, feeling that we made quite an invincible team.
"At daybreak I camped near the Rio Grande. The grazing was poor, but I found a spot where we were quite well hidden. This was important to me, because Highway 64 was not far on the other side of the river. We rested all day and moved out again at night. By the next day I had made it about abreast of Tres Piedras, but I kept to the bottom land, avoiding both Tres Piedras to the west and Taos to the east. On the third day out I crossed Highway 142 and I knew that I was safe at least from the sheriff. I was in Colorado.
"Checking the maps I had taken from Hadley's place I tried to figure out how best to go on. The valley where the Rio Grande flows through Colorado is pretty well surrounded by the Rockies. To the west you got the San Juan range out of which the Rio Grande flows. East is the Sangre de Cristo range and the north is corked up by the Sawatch range. All the passes out to the north or west, where I was headed, were ten thousand feet or more, and, this being still early spring, there would be snow and very cold nights. I wasn't sure that Buzz and Judy were up to it. I decided to keep heading up river until I got to Alamosa, where I was bound to get some information.
"Right near Alamosa, however, when I left the riverbank and got on the highway in order to ride into town, I ran into a police roadblock, I don't know what it was for. May just have been a safety inspection or something like that. Probably they would not have bothered me since a horseman with a dog and pack mule is still a pretty common sight around there, but I was in no mood to chance it. Whistling for Sam I headed north for Mosca, clattering across the highway at an easy lope.
"I had only gone a few miles using the shoulder of Highway 17, when I came on the scene of an accident. A cattle truck had blown a tire and swerved off the road, ripping out a lot of fence from the adjacent range and sideswiping a telephone pole. Somehow the gate on the side of the trailer had gotten open from the impact and there was stock bawling all over the road and hopping over the pasture.
"A really helpless looking cowpoke, the driver, I guess, was running around with an electric cattle prod and waving a rope, trying to get the dogies together. It was like trying to field twenty baseballs at the same time.
"When he saw my outfit he looked as if he'd just laid eyes on an angel.
"Son, the Good Lord himself must of heard me calling and sent you," he said, "you think you can help me get these fool critters back into the rig?"
"I looked over the mess for a while, figuring the best solution. Then I nodded.
"Tie up my mule," I said, "drop the loading chute and we'll give her a try."
"You never saw anyone give a more grateful smile. I shook out a loop, whistled up Sam and went into the pasture over the downed fence. Sam was by nature a sheep dog and I had used him a lot for moving horses back on the ranch, so cows were no problem at all. I just told him: "Round 'em up, boy!" and he was off, doing the work of three riders at least. I took one flank of the bunch and Sam the other, and with a bit of rope slapping and whistling we soon had them bunched together. Buzz knew cutting work and he hopped around like a dancer, not letting one steer head out of the bunch. We got them back towards the fence towards the loading chute, then we just loaded them. With me on one side, the cowpoke with his prod on the other and Sam nipping at their heels, they just bawled and loaded. The couple that had run off down the road I rounded up in a couple of minutes and pretty soon the truck was loaded and the gate secured.
"Mighty grateful to you, boy!" the cowpoke said, extending a hand, "My name's Sid Collins."
"Rick Santos," I said before I knew it. Damn, why did I have to give my real name?
"Right nice cow pony you got yourself there. Hell, if you hadn't come along I'd be out there all week trying to get 'em together. Where you headed?"
"West, I reckon. Trouble is, I don't know where to cross the San Juans."
"He tipped up his hat and rubbed his chin. Must of been in his forties. All creased and weather-beaten with half gray sandy hair.
"Yeah, see what you mean," he said, "specially this time of year. Nights get pretty cold up there and there's no graze to speak of." He squinted off towards the San Juans for a while, then patted Buzz on the shoulder. "Tell you what, Rick. My place is about five miles up the road. Can't miss it. You'll see a sign for the Double Bar Z. Why don't you go on in and tell my daughter Cindy that you helped out her old daddy and for her to take and get some grub into you and your stock. I'll get this tire fixed and get them dogies to Alamosa. When I get back we'll talk about getting across the San Juans. How's that?"
"It sounded fine to me so we parted as old friends. I headed up the road, now and then looking back but he never did get the new tire on for as long as I could see it. I figured it would take him a while.
"I found the dirt road with his ranch sign and headed west on it, back towards the Rio Grande. The ranch house was set amid a lot of feeding pens and corrals. It was one of those typical cheap rural homes with an unkempt yard and the butane tank sitting beside it. A couple of mongrel dogs came out barking at us and old Sam got his hair up but kept close to Buzz. A girl's voice called back the dogs, who for all their noise were wagging their tails. I rode up to the front porch and touched my straw Stetson to the girl standing there. She was about my age, blond, her hair in a pony tail. She was wearing a checkered flannel shirt and jeans, her feet in a pair of awfully beat up moccasins. She was cute and kind of bold looking.
"Rick Santos, ma'm," I said, and then told her about her daddy's troubles.
"She thought the whole thing terribly funny and invited me to come in the house. I unsaddled and unpacked Buzz and Judy and turned them loose in a corral with a couple flakes of alfalfa Cindy provided. Sam got a can of dog food which he gobbled down with great satisfaction, since the ranch dogs just had to stare at him and drool. I dusted off the best I could and went into the house.
"You look like you just stepped out of a Marlboro ad," Cindy laughed as I clunked in with my spurs still on, "but you smell just like round-up time. Why don't you take a bath while I fix you something to eat?"
"Bath? I just had ... " I began, but trailed off realizing it had been some time ago.
"That's what we got indoor plumbing for," she said and hustled me off to a tight little bathroom full of hair curlers and little bottles. While I was taking a shower I heard the bathroom door open and close, and when I parted the curtain I found that my clothes were gone. I hollered for them through the door, but Cindy yelled back she had stuffed my stinking shirt and jeans into the washer and for me to wear a towel. This was getting embarrassing.
"I put away some scrambled eggs and ham sitting in the kitchen like some refugee from a Turkish bath. Cindy watched me eat with a kind of weird grin on her face. Finally she said: "You brown all over like that?"
"Anglos can sure be tactful. "Yeah, I'm half Mexican," I said, "and that means at least a quarter Indian."
"I like that," she said, now standing beside me, "I think it's neat to have a permanent tan." Her hand touched my shoulder and I felt her fingers run softly down my back. It sent goose pimples running out all over my skin, and I knew my face now really took on an Indian shade.
"She felt me shiver and giggled. "Never been touched by a girl before, Rick?"
"Another dumb question. I had had my first piece of ass, a chola from Tucumcari, before this one knew the difference between a prick and a turnip. I had other worries.
"It's not that," I said, "but I can just see your daddy coming through that door with me like this and ... "
"Don't worry about that," she interrupted, "It'll take him the rest of the afternoon to fix that tire and get rid of the stock. Besides, you can hear that rig when it's empty a mile off on the ranch road. And I think you're neat!"
"Her hand caressed my back and I felt her hot breath on the back of my neck as she leaned down and kissed it. Well, you lose the reins on a running bronc, then there ain't much you can do except ride with it. I felt a jerk under the towel as my cock adapted to the situation.
"I turned around in the chair and brought her face down to mine, kissing her on her fragrant moist lips. A sweet tasting, teasing little tongue shot into my mouth, flicked around and withdrew. I held her and kissed her hard, not letting go until I felt her running out of breath.
"Wow!" she said when I released her and stood up. Her face flushed with pleasure when she looked at my body. The towel had a tent pole under it. "The flag is up1" she grinned, "Gentlemen, start your engines!"
"I kissed her again, pressing her against my body. Her breasts were like hard loaves of bread against my chest and she thrust her hips against my cock. The towel fell down and she stared down at my cock.
"You really are brown all over," she said. I had her flannel shirt half unbuttoned, desire now really beginning to roar around inside me. Cindy twirled out of my grasp with a sly grin, then took me by the hand and led me to a bedroom. I prayed that I would not hear the rattle of a stock truck on the old ranch road.
"The bedroom, like the rest of the house, was plain and simple. That it was Cindy's was evident by all the bottles, hair dryers and things. There was a nude shot of Burt Reynolds next to a dresser mirror. I plopped down on the quilted bedspread and watched Cindy undress. She took off the shirt, her eyes on mine, then undid her bra. Out spilled a couple of lovely tits with rosy little nipples, all erect and perky. She kicked off her moccasins and peeled off her jeans together with her panties. She had a lovely, slim figure with a trim and tight ass. The centers of her breasts and her pubic area shone with triangles of untanned white.
"What do you use for a bathing suit, Kleenex?" I asked.
"I went riding in it once," she said, jumping onto the bed beside me, "and you should have seen the old foreman from the spread next to ours. When he saw me he craned his neck so much that he drove his pickup right through a pasture fence!"
"She snuggled up to me cheerfully and in the embrace I forgot all about Hadley, Buzz, the hard miles I had covered and the San Juans I had to cross. She was warm and sensuous, wriggling her body as if trying to get into mine. My cock rubbed against her belly, already leaving a smeary track of lubricating juice. I ran my hands all over her, down her back, over the hard cheeks of that beautiful smooth ass of hers, between her thighs where I felt the rutting heat of her cunt.
"Your daddy know about this sort of thing?" I said.
"She kissed me on the mouth. "He's not blind," she said, "but since mama died a couple of years ago he sort of took it for granted that I was taking on an adult role on the place, so he just keeps his opinions to himself. We get along just fine." Her hand ran up and down on my cock, fingering the swollen head. She propped it up so it pointed at the ceiling. "Just like an ear of Iowa corn," she smiled, "is that what they mean by Chicano Power?"
"Yeah, and it tastes like chili peppers with refried beans."
"Mmmm! I love hot foods!" she said and bent down to put it into her mouth. I watched the head go slowly into her parted lips, vanishing inside her mouth. Once inside, it bulged against her cheek, slowly moving towards the back of her jaws and into her throat. More and more of the brown hunk of meat vanished between those distended pink lips of hers until her nose touched my pubic hair. I felt the heat of her mouth along the whole shaft, the gentle twirling of the entire length of her tongue. Just as slowly her head began to rise, exposing inch after inch of my now glistening wet cock. She took out all but the very tip, and this she probed with the point of her tongue, sticking into the hole and letting the lube smear around on her pursed lips. Then she blew on it gently, but since it was wet it felt like a blizzard. Immediately she alternated this with hot licks of her tongue, simultaneously jacking me off with her hand. My cock jerked with pleasure every time she stroked it with her tongue, so she began to do it faster, flicking it around the base of the head and running it down the vein on the underside all the way down to my balls. These too she did not forget. They, were drawn up tight up against my body, and she took each in turn into her mouth, caressing and rolling her tongue around it.
"Watching her mouth my cock made me want to get somehow more involved, so I reached out for that lovely trim body of hers. She knew exactly what she wanted, for at my first touch she shifted herself so that her cunt was right over my face. I rolled her over onto her back, and still keeping her head pinned down with my cock I spread her legs and lowered my face onto her cunt. Spreading the outer lips with my fingers I found myself looking into the pink, flower-like petals of the clitoris hood and inner lips. It looked like an awfully little cunt, a virginal, underdeveloped teenybopper of a cunt. But when the tip of my tongue touched it, it reacted like a seasoned campaigner. At the first touch she gave a moan and a jerk which rammed my nose right into the hot, moist and fleshy interior. Slowly I ran my tongue up and down between the inner and outer lips, probing with it now and then at the entrance to her vagina. She responded with pleased jerks of her hips and a tightening of her mouth around my cock. I then got my arms and shoulders between her legs, spreading them apart and up towards her chest. This tipped up her ass, and I had the pink little pussy with its blond whiskers exactly where I wanted it. I began to really ream her out now, drinking in the juice she was letting out of her. I twirled my tongue around the hood of the clitoris, poking with its tip for the clitoris itself and getting a muffled squeal out of Cindy every time I made contact with it. She loved it, her whole body began to twitch and her mouth gulped and sucked at me. I moved my hips, fucking into her face in rhythm to the flicks of my tongue over her cunt. When I felt her begin to jerk in spasms, I sucked in the inner lips, clitoris and all. Inside my mouth I made my tongue as compact and hard as possible and drove it between the lips against the clitoris, alternating this with powerful sucking, which in a few seconds caused her to gurgle on my cock and start coming into my face. Her thighs trembled and her now sloppy wet cunt plastered itself all over my face. In the heaves of her orgasm her hips jumped back and forth involuntarily, whipping her pussy over my nose, mouth and chin. She moaned and moaned as I sucked her viciously right through her entire orgasm. At last I felt her relax, then twitch a couple of times painfully, and I knew I had her finished for a while. Wiping my face on her thighs I looked down at her cock-filled face. It was flushed pink and spit and my juice was running out of the corners of her mouth down to her neck and ears. I could see her throat muscles work on milking my cock. I started to drive myself hard into her now, with long strokes that rammed my balls into her face. She sucked on gamely, and when she reached up and squeezed my balls, I felt the fire at the base of my cock surge forward and explode with a wave of jism inside her throat. She slurped and sucked faster, one hand squeezing my balls, the other poking a finger into my asshole. I pumped it all into her mouth, depositing a wad with every downstroke. She swallowed and coughed, and I saw some of it shoot out her nose.
"At last she drained me. My arms were trembling in that push-up position from the wonderful sensation which I felt through my whole body. Slowly I eased my greasy cock out of her mouth and fell on my back. Cindy turned around, lay down on me and came at me with an open mouth full of semen. She sealed my lips with hers, her eyes glazed, and slowly probed my mouth with her tongue. I could taste the bitter, salty, sticky substance that I had filled her mouth with.
"We lay there for some time resting, Cindy on my shoulder with a hand cupped around my balls. It had been so good. I wished that I could stay here in the bedroom, live on the ranch and have Cindy beside me like this. I could not bear the thought of once again saddling up and spending days and nights with a horse, dog and mule.
"After a while Cindy's hand crept up my cock, her fingers lazily squeezing and toying with the limp and soft head. She began to talk, telling me about how she had been laid four years ago the first time, when she was just thirteen. How she had an affair with a hand on the ranch, how she got to liking sex so much that she could get hot just staring at a guy's jeans. It wasn't what you'd expect from a girl on a rural ranch, I guess, but maybe that was what really caused it. The isolation and all. I listened with only one ear, because I was concentrating on what her playful little fingers were doing. They were giving me a hard on again, that's what. When my cock became rigid in her hand she looked up as if surprised. With a sly smile she made it all wet with spit and then straddled me, manipulating it into her cunt. She tickled herself with it for a minute, and then had it right up against her hole. The top of it vanished in her blonde pussy hairs and I felt the tight ring of the entrance to her vagina on it like a Stetson that's a bit too small. But Cindy wiggled her ass, holding my cock in place, and suddenly the head slipped in, the warm glow of her insides making it inflate even more, She let go of it and let the weight of her body and gravity do the rest. I was surprised how easily it slid in, considering the small-looking apparatus she had down there. But down she came and in it went, until her ass touched my balls and my cock rested up against her cervix. She gave a pleased little sigh, undid the ribbon holding her pony tail and let her hair spill all over her face, her eyes smiling as she looked down on me.
"Let's do it as if we meant to make a kid," she said, "I just want to feel full of you inside me!"
"I needed very little urging. The tight warmth encasing the length of my cock was enough. For a while she remained immobile on me, and then I felt a fantastic sensation. She was wiggling some kind of internal vaginal muscles. It felt like a gentle hand with the fingers milking my cock like a cow's udder. Jesus, I had never felt anything like it before. I made my back muscles tense and I shoved myself into her as far as I could go. Cindy began to rise up and down on me now, and I watched in fascination as my well greased glistening cock slid out then buried itself in that blonde snatch. I hardly had to do a thing, Cindy was delivering all the action. Her breasts bobbed as she increased her speed, and the rosettes around the nipples shriveled up while the nipples puckered up. I reached up and pinched them between my fingers, at the same time thrusting my hips up. Cindy leaned her head back, closed her eyes and smiled in pleasure. A little shiver ran through her body and I saw goose pimples on her arms. She picked a steady rhythm now, fucking me with a monotonous steady tempo which held me erect and eager but did not stimulate me to orgasm. She was clever, working herself up first so that I would not pop on her before she was ready. But when I let go of one breast and reached down between her legs, her whole body gave a jerk and she increased the speed of her bumps and grinds. My hand followed her body, my fingers stroking her clitoris, slowly but surely driving her up the walls. She began to breathe quickly, gasping now and again, her ass now pounding up and down on my cock like a jackhammer. I fucked into her now with hard thrusts that sent her rocking like a rodeo rider on a bareback bronc. Finally she couldn't keep her balance and leaned on her arms for support, her boobs dangling and dancing spectacularly above me. I pounded cock into her amid the squishing and popping of her wet cunt, and she started coming amid whines and cries of painful pleasure. At the same time I felt the searing wad of orgasm ripping up from somewhere around my asshole and I socked it into her with all my strength, my semen shooting deep within her. Cindy now let out a scream of animal pleasure and ground herself down onto my spurting cock, her ass wiggling from side to side as if she wanted to get my whole body inside her. My cock gave a few more violent jerks inside her and then I was drained, the room almost getting dark around me. There was a lull during which the only thing audible were our gasping breaths. Cindy's stomach heaved as she fought to regain her breath and I could feel my own heart fluttering inside me. She gave a couple of violent shivers and then collapsed with a sigh on top of me. My cock got small very slowly and it was a while before it finally slipped out of her.
"Carelessly we dozed off, and there would probably have been hell to pay if it hadn't been for old Sam. His barking woke me up and then I heard what got him riled. It was Cindy's daddy rattling down the road in the rig. You never saw a kid get his clothes out of the dryer and on him so fast. I barely had my shotguns buckled down when the screen door banged open and Sid Collins was standing there. Cindy gave him a nonchalant "Hi, Daddy!" and pretended to be busy at the sink. Old Sid gave her a squinty-eyed look and then glanced at me. Cindy had not tied up her hair, her shirt was out over her jeans, and it was plain she did not have her bra on. Sid shook his head and sighed, then handed me a newspaper.
"Boy, you better get saddled up. You made the Albuquerque papers," he said.
"He wasn't kidding, either. Right on page two. Horse thief, burglar. Armed. An old mug shot of me from some juvie files and a very long description of all my sins. Hadley outraged and offering reward. They even had figured out that I headed north.
"You done me a favor boy," Sid said with a glance at Cindy, "but before you do me any more around here I figure I'll pay you back. Get your stock together and we'll load em in the truck. I'll have you over the San Juans before dark."
Rick, the homeless, abused teen-ager of the present narrative, has living parents, but the almost total parental deprivation that is evident from his visible personality traits makes a sort of quasi-orphan of him. His father ran away, in his own time, leaving the boy in the care of a slatternly mother who-however involuntarily- deserted him not long afterwards for the Federal correctional institution in Louisville, where drug addicts are shipped for physical rehabilitation.
Thus it might be appropriate at this point to consider the predicament of the deprived child in order to determine the precise nature of the problems Rick has encountered and which have landed him in such a depressing situation.
Some of the effects of early maternal deprivation-and Rick seems to have suffered from this even when his mother was with him-inevitably result in inadequate social adjustment, neurosis and sometimes psychosis in the adult. When a child is deprived, as Rick was, of a warm, intimate and continuous relationship with his mother or with a permanent mother substitute, the negative effects of the deprivation depend to some extent on the degree of deprivation.
These varying effects are described by John Bowlby in Maternal Care and Mental Health.
Partial deprivation brings in its train acute anxiety, excessive need for love, powerful feelings of revenge, and arising from these last, guilt and depression. These emotions and drives are too great for the immature means of control and organization available to the young child (immature physiologically as well as psychologically). The consequent disturbance of psychic organization then leads to a variety of responses, often repetitive and cumulative, the end products of which are symptoms of neurosis and instability of character. Complete deprivation (which is still not uncommon in institutions, where the child often has no one person who cares for him in a personal way and with whom he may feel secure), has even more far-reaching effects on character development and may entirely cripple the capacity to make relationships.
The problems of the orphan child-into which category Rick fits without too much need for qualification of the term-include his experience of many of the devastating emotional upheavals familiar to adults who have experienced bereavement and grief (In a child the prolonged absence of the parent is equivalent to the death of the parent, for all practical purposes, and his reaction will be equivalent.)
In addition, depending on his age, he may or may not be able to clearly understand the source of these terrible feelings of deep loss. And even beyond his inevitable and temporary pain of bereavement, the orphaned child frequently feels a great deal of confusion regarding the circumstances surrounding his sudden deprivation. He may feel that he is somehow at fault, that his parents have left him, abandoned him, for cause -have deserted him deliberately due to some shortcoming on his part, some failure of his own to be a worthy child. In this common response we see the roots of deep-seated feelings of inferiority, guilt and insecurity that plague many adults. Another possible reaction on the child's part might be a tremendous sense of anger and rage at the parents who have left him alone before he is ready to be alone. The child who is enraged-and to some extent we see this phenomenon in Rick, hidden and repressed even from his own view though it may be-stands a better chance in the long run of coming to terms with his grief and deprivation. Without expert guidance, however, such a child will often turn into an aggressive, hostile adult. It is a tribute to Rick's essentially healthy mind that he copes as well as he does with the demanding, hostile adult environment in which he finds himself.
His exact problem is pinpointed more precisely thus: the child whose deprivation problem comes to a head at an age when he is older and can to some extent understand what is happening to him often makes the attempt to avoid the feelings and cover up his emotions in order to avoid the terrible pain. When an older child is orphaned, and refuses to experience the traumatic pain of the event, he often lays the groundwork for future personality disorder in the repression of his natural feelings, which manifest themselves in the distorted symptoms of neurotic adjustment.
Obviously, at this crucial point, the best thing that could happen to the child would be the appearance of an adequate parental surrogate, an individual or couple to whom he might transfer his dependency needs; a person from whom he can replenish his store of self-esteem and well-being, to whom he can communicate his natural feelings with some hope of being understood. Parent substitutes can provide such a child with a focus for his negative feelings and a source of security and affection which are most crucial during the time he is making an adjustment to his loss.
In the nineteenth century and in the earlier part of the twentieth, the large extended family provided many persons who could assume this role for a suddenly bereaved child. There were aunts, uncles, grandparents, even older cousins who might provide the orphaned child with some hope of emotional stability during the remainder of his childhood.
The situation has been drastically altered in the modern world. Leontine Young in Wednesday's Children describes some of the changes which have taken place in the family, making the care of such children even more awkward and difficult than ever before.
In the modern world a change has occurred in the structure and obligations of the family that has brought long-range implications for everyone. Many of the great integrating forces of the past have become casualties of industrial society. The extended family which belonged to an agricultural economy provided more than an answer to the baby-sitter problem. The group of culturally determined relatives that made up the whole family unit provided the past, present and future for its members. Like the old Chinese family that might have four or even five generations living under one roof, it was a symbol of human continuity, the meaning and purpose for the individual. What it sacrificed in individual freedom it compensated for in security. So long as the family unit functioned a mother was not left without support, a father without secure care for his home, the children without relatives to provide them with care and security. The family was social security, protection of children, aid to the aged, the civic club, the family life education, the life insurance.
What a far cry from the present, when families are more and more fragmented every year and when marriage itself is called into question as a viable institution! From all visible signs one is forced to conclude that the survival of the family unit is at least in doubt, if not completely threatened with extinction.
"Sid was as good as his word. He took me over the San Juans through Del Norte and South Fork, the least traveled of the passes. It's a rough old road for a big rig like his, but he felt that once on the other side I'd have a better chance of not being spotted.
"It was pretty late in the afternoon by the time we negotiated Spring Creek Pass and then the final one, Slumgullion Pass. On the other side there's a wide place in the road called Lake City, and it was shortly past that Sid unloaded us.
"You just work your way down due north, boy," he told me, "that'll bring you down into the Blue Mesa country. Work your way around Uncompahgre Peak, that's the big one on the left here, and if you just head west through the valleys and ask the right questions, you ought to get to Utah in a few weeks."
"I thanked him and we shook hands. I liked the man, but not half as much as his daughter. Sure hated leaving.
"That night I camped under the stars again, about half way down around Uncompahgre. It was cold as hell, and in the morning there was frost on my sleeping bag. Mountains being what they are, the sun had us sweating soon after breakfast and by noon I was roasting. We covered a lot of ground that day and didn't run into a single soul, so I stopped worrying about that news story about me.
"A couple of days went by like this. Nothing but the open sky, bird song, the steady plod of Buzz and Judy and the routine of setting up and breaking camp. From the road map I had figured that I would soon cross Highway 550 south of Montrose. I'd head due west for the Dolores River and see if I could follow it on into Utah.
"I finally did cross the highway and that was a sort of a boundary I crossed over, although I didn't realize it at the time. That same evening I found a very fine spot for camp, with good grazing for the animals. I even got lucky and popped off a rabbit for Sam with my .22, so there was a good feed all around. Although there was a dirt track of a road not too far from where I camped, I didn't pay much attention because the area looked like it was old rangeland that hadn't seen any traffic for a hell of a long time.
"In the morning I awoke with a start, because Sam was growling almost in my ear. Sitting up I glanced around and saw that both Buzz and Judy were not far away grazing. But they were not alone. A pickup was standing on that dirt road. One of those ranch jobs that always seems to have a bale of hay in the back and a rackful of guns behind the seat in the cab. Two guys in straws and jeans were getting out of the truck and looking at the gelding and mule. I still didn't think much about it. I even quieted down Sam who was beginning to sound mean. But then I see one of the guys reach into the cab and bring out a lead rope. Christ, Buzz and Judy were hobbled, so anyone could tell that their owner was around somewhere. Did those guys really mean to try and rustle them?
"Hey, you can put back that rope!" I yelled, "that stock's just fine right where it's at!"
"The guys peered in my direction, squinting into the morning sun. I stood up, hands on my hips to let them see me.
"Sure enough, the guy with the rope goes back to the cab and gets rid of it. Only he now comes out with a goddam rifle.
"Come on over here, kid!" he yells, pointing the thing at me, "You're trespassing, and I figure that's stolen stock!"
"Christ, what was I to do? I glanced over to where my saddle lay, the .30-06 sticking out of the boot. Did they know who I was from the newspaper? Had they recognized Buzz from the description? I didn't know what to do, but the cowpoke with the gun made up my mind for me. The bark on the tree beside me exploded into trash and a ricochet whined off somewhere. The echo from the shot rolled back and forth and the horse and mule sat up almost like rabbits. I yelled, "Go sick' em, Sam!" and dove for my saddle. In a swoop I yanked out the rifle and rolled away, another shot thudded into one of the saddle bags. I pumped in a round and aimed. The guy with the rifle was aiming my way, the other running to the cab to get his gun. I fired aiming at the feet of the first. The round kicked up a pile of dust and rock and he jumped behind some sagebrush. I lobbed another round into the windshield of the truck and the other guy forgot all about arming himself. He started running like hell through the sagebrush, and the first guy jumps up to follow, only Sam got at him first, tearing out a nice part of his jeans. He dropped the rifle, kicked Sam off and hightailed it after his friend. I sent them on their way with another couple of rounds, then shot out two tires to slow them down a little once they got back to the truck. Whistling up good old Sam I saddled up and packed and we were soon on our way.
"To tell the truth, after the first shock of fear, I felt pretty proud and pleased with myself. It had been something like from a Western movie, but just like in the movies, nobody got hurt. I mean just some torn jeans and a bit of sand in the eyes. You can get that in ten seconds from a sour-assed bronc, if not worse.
"So, whistling to myself and feeling like John Wayne, I rode on west. In this rough country I was soon beyond tracking and out of sight of my morning visitors, whoever they were. By nightfall I found some rural highway and on it one of those small greasy spoon restaurants doubling up as a general store.
"Out in back were a couple of dilapidated empty corrals and a battered old pick up truck. A sign identified the whole slum as "Zodie's Cafe and Country Store."
"Tying up Buzz and Judy to one of the corral fences, I went into the cafe. It was dimly lit by some small lamps with plastic yellow shades and smelled of frying oil. There were a couple of aluminum and plastic tables and a counter with red stools, most of them needing an upholstery job. No one was around at first, so I read all the little notices around the cash register, most of them making clear that Zodie gave no credit and cashed no checks. Finally a woman comes out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a filthy apron. She was well stacked, to put it mildly. She had tits like melons, and the rest of her was put together to match. Dark hair, quick, darting dark eyes and a big-lipped sensuous mouth. I figured her in the mid-thirties.
"Howdy, what can I do you for?" she says with a real twang in her voice.
"I got some animals with me, ma'm," I said, politely giving my hat a yank, "I was wondering if I could maybe put them up for the night in those empty corrals out yonder."
"This ain't a livery stable, though it might look like it," she said in a snotty sort of way.
"I'd sure appreciate it," I said, "it's just a horse and old mule and we've come a long way."
"That the horse or the mule?" she pointed at Sam, who had come in with me and was sniffing the kitchen smells with his mouth drooling. "You sure do tote a zoo around with you, don't you? What's your name?"
"Sid Collins," I said the first thing that popped into my mind.
"Sure a funny name for a guy that looks like Speedy Gonzales. You got any money to pay for all this room and board you're asking for?"
"I still had about twenty bucks on me, but that was for emergencies. "I'd be glad to do any chores you might need, ma'm. Place looks like it could use a hand."
"Oh, stop that ma'am shit! Even if you are just a kid you don't need to make me any older than I am. Chores? Hell, yes! I could use five of you working ten hours a day for ten days before I'd get this place straightened up. Take off your hat!" I did so and she gave me a careful once over, from head to toe. A sly grin comes over her face, "Yeah, I bet you could do some chores for me! Tell you what, little cowpoke, go get those animals of yours fixed up and come back so we can talk about it. Hey, by the way, I got some hamburger that's kind of turned. Think that mutt of yours can eat it?"
"Ma'am, he'd eat it even if it was walking off in five directions!"
"Told you about that ma'am shit! Name's Zodie!"
"I grinned and tipped my hat. I liked her. A real hard nosed bitch, but with a good heart under it all. I put up Buzz and Judy, graining them with what I had in the pack and putting out a couple buckets of water for them. Sam had cleaned up the bad hamburger by the time I got back and was belching and farting under a table. Zodie made me a hamburger and it was so lousy I wondered if she made a mistake and fed me Sam's. She also plunked down a can of beer and when I drained it, another. While I guzzled it down, washing away the taste of the greasy meat, soggy bun and wilted vegetables, she rattled on about the place and herself. Seems her husband was a Viet Nam vet who never got over being scared of gooks. Used to see them everywhere. Also had some smack problems, which he finally changed for grapes and religion. One day he loaded up their car with a bunch of wine jugs, got the Bible and announced he was off in search of the love of Jesus. That had been two years ago and she'd been stuck on the place ever since.
"After a while she pops a bottle of Bourbon onto the counter and pours us each a Bourbon and-water. No ice.
"Might as well make ourselves comfy," she says and pulls down all the blinds and locks the door. That's when I thought I knew what I would be in for. Didn't mind at all. After all, balling beats doing chores.
"I'm not too good on hard liquor. Anything except beer kind of sends me into another world in a hurry. So a couple of those warm Bourbon-and-waters and she had herself a puppet on a string. Before I knew it we were in the back rooms of the cafe where she lived, both naked and on a squeaking bed. When I got my first look at her I almost laughed, as much from the booze as from the sight. I said before that she was stacked, but when those melons floated out into the open it looked as if someone had just inflated some water wings. Great big things, with dark nipples the size of bottle corks. Her ass looked like two pillows jammed together and her pubic hair was a mat that you'd need a machete to hack through.
"But I really don't mean to knock it. It was just the first sight. I soon found out that a guy can really get pretty wild with a woman built like that. All that acreage of flesh, those hills and valleys, it's like a fucking national park. You can just wallow in it, and everywhere you turn there is a part of Zodie coming at you in a pink avalanche.
"Jesus!" she said when she saw my erect cock, "You're hung like that horse of yours!" She grabbed it and jacked me off as I lay on my back, her eyes glued to it. "I haven't had a good cock so long that I can't remember it! This damn place is in the middle of nowhere, and the one guy who'd come by regular had one you could slip a wedding ring on." And with that she opened that big mouth of hers and sank down over my cock. It just vanished inside her face, and for a minute I thought she had swallowed it, balls and all.
"Fuck me from the back!" she said after a few sucks, "You got enough to really slip it to me!" and with a heave and roll of tits she rolled over, spreading her legs. I mounted her from the rear, fascinated by the large butt staring at me. She moved the muscles of her ass, and I swear that it winked at me. When I slid in it was going down a greased kid's slide. I could feel the ripples in the wall of her vagina as I plunged in, but there was no getting to the end of it. I think she could have handled a horse in there. But it was springy and tight, and when she closed her legs with me inside her I knew I was going to be in for one hell of a fucking. This was no little Cindy with her juvenile cunt and dainty, if horny, body. I had me a real piece of woman here, and she knew what she wanted.
"Almost immediately after I got inside her she starts twitching her ass and tightening her buttocks around my cock. I got my feet well braced against the back of the bed and started to wham it to her. Pretty soon I felt sweat on my brow and on my belly as it wetly slapped against her butt, but Zodie didn't slow down for a second. "Give it to me!" she once said, "Give to me hard! Faster!"
"I did my best. The booze helped, because after I drink it takes me much longer to come, so I had plenty to give her. By now her frantic butt was jerking up and down convulsively, and those cheeks grabbed at my cock as if afraid it would get away. On every stroke I rammed it in all the way to my balls, and the squishing and popping, mixed with her groans and the protests of the bed, made for some fearful sounds in the night.
"Now, you got to remember that I had been in the saddle for days, and, on that particular day, from dawn to dusk. It's not the worst thing in the world, but it does kind of wear you down a bit. And from the looks of this Zodie would let me pump her until you could put a wedding finger around my cock too. Sweat was pouring into my eyes and the end of her butt was just a sea of foam into which my cock ripped in and out. I finally reached around under her, flopping down onto her heaving body and grabbed a hold of her cunt with both bands. I spread the wet lips as far apart as I could, feeling the hard pole of my cock thrusting back and forth inside her, then I took hold of her clit between two fingers and just squeezed and yanked hell out of it. Zodie gave out a great belching roar and nearly bucked me off, but I held on as if this meant the championship ride in Madison Square Garden. She screamed, tore at the sheets and shook her head back and forth in a kind of wild frenzy, her ass bucking under me so hard I thought the bed would break. She yelled: "Cock! I've got cock! Jesus, I got cock! Thank you Jesus!" all the way through her orgasm. Then when she felt me suck in my breath and steel myself for my own discharge, she slipped around with amazing speed and in one second was jacking me off into her face, yelling: "Eat! Let me eat! In the mouth!"
"That's where it went, all right. The whole load. She slobbered and wallowed in it getting her face all soaked with the crap that was all over my groin from her cunt. I shot through those wet fingers of hers right into her mouth, excited by the wild way she was sucking and licking at me. She even took it out when I had a few squirts left in me and rubbed it back and forth over her face, her eyes closed as if in a trance, the jism smearing a real cream makeup all over her cheeks, mouth and chin.
"When I was through I just collapsed onto the bed on my stomach, barely able to breathe. Zodie murmured something and began to lick the sweat off my back. She licked my arms, arm pits, the shoulder blades, the sides. Then she worked down to my waist and on past. Her tongue covered every inch of my ass, finally slithering down between the cheeks and right up my asshole. This went on until she worked herself down to the soles of my feet and only ended when she sucked off every toe. Man, I didn't need a bath anymore.
"Later she tried to get me to drink again, but I knew I'd puke if I tasted that warm booze again, so I only had one beer. She sat on the bed next to me, her huge tits above my face and sipping her booze talked to me not caring whether I listened or not.
"That's about the best I've had," she said, "old Vance, that's that no good son of a bitch husband of mine that went and ran off, well he never had it in him to hold out that long. Most of the time I had to finish myself off. And that guy with the little cock, well who could feel what he was up to? "Bout the only one as good as you was this Indian. I mean I don't go for Indians at all. But I had been so horny when this red fucker came along. A hippie, sort of. Said he was Young Deer and lived inside the Grand Canyon. A real weirdo, but God, was he hung! I went mad for his cock for two days and nights. But finally I threw his ass back out on the highway. I didn't like the fact he never shot inside me. And the things he would yell, all kinds of crap like: "White goddam blue eyed bitch! Alia time wanna fuck Indian! Shit! Piss! Me no give seed white man squaw! Me dump seed on ground! Indian ground, great spirit give back for Indian seed! No more white eyes fuck Indian1" and all the while he'd be jumping off me and jerking himself off onto the floor. He hosed everything down, the rugs, furniture, everything except me ... hey, you listening?"
"I was but just barely. Seeing I was about to drift off, Zodie turned on a small screen TV. I don't know if she meant to entertain me with it or else had just given up on me, but when that set came on I sat up as if a snake had gotten under my blanket.
" ... medium height, dark complexion but with blue eyes," an announcer was droning, "wearing a straw Stetson, sheepskin coat, blue jeans with tan shotgun chaps. He is riding a chestnut gelding with an H.R. brand and is leading a black pack mule. A collie or similar type dog is probably with him and should be approached with care. Santos is well armed, and after the most recent unprovoked attack on the two Montrose citizens, should be considered dangerous. We repeat, an all points bulletin has been issued by the state police for Rick Santos, wanted for burglary, rustling and now assault with a deadly weapon. Last seen near Highway 550 about midway between Montrose and Ridgeway and believed to be heading west ... " I shut off the set just as my old juvie mug shot flashed on the screen. Glancing at Zodie I thought I caught her looking at me intensely, but then she just looked bored
"Who wants to listen to the news?" I said, trying to sound as bored as she looked.
"That night I slept badly, but at least I slept. All that riding and fucking had taken its toll, and the warm soft Zodie beside me soon soothed my nerves. But I dreamt a lot of horeshit and woke up at dawn in a cold sweat. After feeding Buzz and Judy I spent all morning trying to figure out what to do. They had an APB out on me as if I was some goddam bank robber! And with my outfit I stood out like a sore thumb. Now everybody would be checking every poor bastard on a horse with a mule in tow. I did not see how the hell I would be able to get as far as the Utah Canyon-lands without being spotted.
"In the end I decided to lay low for a couple of days, rest up Buzz and Judy and then make a break for it, riding only at night and camping in cover during the day. I thought with a little luck I could make it to the Utah line in about ten days.
"When I asked Zodie if I could stay on a few days to rest the stock and give her a hand, she looked at me in a strange way and only nodded.
"Well, chores, hell. I did no chores at all, I just fucked my brains out. Zodie was going to get her money's worth, there was no doubt about it from the first day. I had never thought it possible for two people to go on fucking so much. I didn't know anyone could last so long. She was at me from the minute I woke up. In the morning she wanted it from the back, while she still half slept. It would take her forever to come and I would be plowing away desperately wanting her to finally come so I could feed Buzz and Judy.
"After breakfast she wanted to blow me. Anywhere. Bedroom, kitchen, the corral, even in the middle of the restaurant with only a screen door between the outside world and her on her knees in front of me, eyes glazed and mouth full of cock.
"By noon we were in the sack with a 'closed' sign on the door. Then she would ball with real gusto, sitting on me or else on her back with her ass coyly propped up on some pillows. Middle of the afternoon she'd give me a look and I knew that she was hungry for a little meat in her mouth again. And in the evenings? Figure it out. A fifth of Bourbon every night and I lose five pounds in sweat and semen.
"And she racked me up pretty bad in all this. She was never a calm fuck. It was always all violence and passion, without regard for pain, hers or mine.
"I remember when one time I had her down under me and I was ramming cock to her. Her face started getting all distorted when she began to come. Eyes shut, teeth grinding in a horrible grin and spittle drooling out from between her lips. When she had her first convulsion she sank her fingernails into the small of my back, raked me up to the shoulder, and came back down again with all the force she had. I screamed bloody murder, but that just made her bury those nails in my butt and thrust me up and down on her cunt as if I were a dummy or a little toy. When she was through I had blood flowing off my back onto the sheets and ten purple blue holes in my ass. It was a couple of days before I could comfortably wear a shirt, lean back in a chair or sit down without wincing.
"She'd get carried away cocksucking too. Habitually she'd fingerfuck herself while blowing me and after a while I developed a skill in beating her to the come. If I let her get herself off while I was still in her mouth I risked emasculation. She'd try to grind her teeth with me still in there! Once she gave me such a bite that her teethmarks were on me long after we parted company. So I developed this method that the minute she'd take my cock in her mouth, I'd grab the back of her head and fuck away as quickly as I could, shooting the semen down her throat the second I was ready. Sometimes I'd be pulling out of her, limp but whole, just seconds before her mouth would close like a steel trap, the jism flowing down her chin and strands of it extending out to my cock.
"When she began to leave the cafe closed all day and started to do nothing but fuck and swig Bourbon from what seemed a year's supply, I began to get a creepy feeling. I also began to have second thoughts about her husband. Christ, if that was what the poor bastard came home to, then after a couple of weeks I bet he wished himself back amid the rice paddies with nothing more demanding than not letting Charlie get him. No wonder he went to look for the love of Jesus. It must be a calmer thing than this volcano that Zodie had between her legs.
"I decided to move on. Not wanting to spring it on her too suddenly, I thought I'd give her a really good lay towards evening, and, when she was pretty boozed up, head out for the hills. So I gave her one of her all time favorites, banging her with her on her back with those pillows under her ass. She came like a string of firecrackers and raked up the old scabs on my back, but I didn't let out a whimper. As an additional treat I came in this weird way that she liked so much. I straddled her and did it between her tits. Zodie held them together with her hands, playing with her nipples, while I sank my cock into the warm, soft globes, submerging it fully in the flesh. She got a charge out of seeing the head of my cock keep shooting in and out at the top of her breasts. She stared at it as if hypnotized by a snake, and would get all smiling and dreamy when I started to shoot. Sticky ropes of the white stuff would squirt out and hit her lips and chin, although most of it would go on her neck. When I was through she licked my cock clean and looked up at me like a little girl that's done something nice and wants some praise for it.
"This time I told her it was great, just as I always did, but then I got up and started dressing.
"Where the hell you off to?" she said, "I thought you already fed those dumb animals of yours."
"Sure did, Zodie. But it's time for me to be moving on. You've been awfully kind to me, but I'll be wearing out my welcome if I hang around any longer."
"I thought she was going to shit. Christ, she tried everything to get me to stay. She cried, she yelled, pulled at my clothes and even made the supreme sacrifice of smashing her bottle of Bourbon against a wall. But I just got dressed and got my gear together and headed for the door. Tried to give her a goodbye kiss, but that seemed about as wise as sticking your head in a lion's cage.
"I got Buzz saddled and Judy packed and was about to mount up when I realized that I had forgotten my gloves in the house. I went back in just in time to hear Zodie's voice on the phone talking through tears of rage: "Sure I'm sure it's Rick Santos! I saw it on TV. You get your cops moving and you can grab him before he gets ten yards ... that's right, Zodie's cafe, five miles west of ..."
"I didn't stop to hear the rest. Just grabbed my gloves and in a minute I had the whole outfit moving out at a canter. There were a few acres of pasture in the back of the cafe and then a stand of timber. I lit out like a bat out of hell and reached the dark night shadows of the trees just as I heard distant sirens approaching the cafe behind me.
"It was all downhill from then on. I pushed us hard that night and on into the day, wanting to get as much distance between me and Zodie's as I could. About midmorning I was on a sheep range. You could tell by their dropping, the smell and the closely cropped grass. Sam was loping ahead and went over a rise. I heard a distant 'pop' and by the time I topped the rise it was too late. Sam lay dead a few yards from a coyote-getter. That cyanide gas works fast. His beautiful coat shone in the sun, the long hair of his mane and tail moving in the wind.
"I didn't even have time to bury him. After a while that same day I got into pretty rough country, so I knew I had better make camp, rest Buzz and Judy, and travel next day. It was just too easy to break your neck or a horse's leg on a dark night in terrain where there are no trails.
"The next day was full of disaster. I had been in the saddle only a couple of hours when I spotted some distant vehicles. The cross-country kind with big antennas. They were all the same color so I knew they must be cops. They seemed to be looking my way through field glasses. I was on a flat valley floor at the time and I spotted a steep switch back trail leading up a sandstone cliff out of the valley. It was my only chance, since not even a motorcycle would make it up there. But I was half way into the cliff face when something worse than motorcycles showed up. A helicopter. One of those bubble jobs with two guys in them. They buzzed the cliff and circled, scaring hell out of the horse and mule. A loudspeaker blared something at me but I could not hear more than the word 'down' above the engine noise. I continued up so the chopper started making passes to within just yards of me, raising clouds of dust and panicking Judy to the point she tore lose her lead rope, tried to turn around on the foot-wide trail, lost her balance under her pack and went somersaulting down the cliff, pieces of equipment and I guess also of poor Judy bouncing off the rocks. The chopper came at me again, and I thought I and Buzz would be next. So I did the only thing I could to save us. I got out my .22 pistol and holding the reins in my teeth and the pistol with both hands, emptied a clip at the damn thing. I must have hit something, because the tail of the chopper started spinning around the bubble like mad and it went down to the valley floor, landing in a big cloud of dust. I saw two guys get out and run, then the machine burst into gorgeous flames. I got to the top of the cliff without further trouble. On top was a grassy mesa, leading to mountains covered with sheltering timber. Also two police jeeps with four cops, their guns drawn and one of them with a ready pair of handcuffs in his hands."
Rick's very strength, at a time when he should not have had to display such adult coherence and fortitude, is a source of weakness, exposing him as it does to the neurosis and hostility that his hostile environment has generated. Obviously he needs, not incarceration and punishment, but extensive psychotherapy if he is to take his eventual place in society.