Paul had listened intently to El Indio’s narrative. Now he spoke up. “El Indio, this is a fantastic story and frankly, I cannot believe any of this. It sounds like some kind of superstitious mythology. These things can’t be real.”
“The minds of modern people are closed to many of things that ancient peoples have known and learned about for centuries. Just because it is not a part of your known world doesn’t mean it isn’t true,” El Indio replied.
“You mentioned you had ‘powers.‘ What kind of powers do you have?” asked Paul.
“This place here, and especially the cavern, is a place of power for me. It is part of the source of my powers,” said El Indio.
“Just what kind of ‘powers’ are you talking about.”
“I have powers you might call magical. I have powers of healing and knowledge of ancient medicines made from plants and minerals. I help treat the people here when they are sick and they help me with gifts of food and clothing.”
“Yes, I know, of course, that you are a curandero,” said Paul. “You saved my life.”
“I have other powers as well. I can see reality and beyond reality. Most men only see a little of what goes on around them. I can leave my body and travel in an unlimited manner, as my spirit self, with no form at all and sometimes in the form of a crow or other animals,” El Indio said. “And that is not all, I can do more. I will tell you more later. You have enough to digest I think.”
“Don’t think I am so easily fooled, or frightened away” said Paul. “I still intend in exploring the cavern.”
“You should stay out of there, I warn you it will be a mistake to go in there. I must go now, we will talk more tomorrow.”
With that El Indio left Paul sitting at the table.
Paul had a drink and he sat for a while just staring at the fireplace.
“That was some wild story he told me. Does he take me for a fool”
Paul was almost afraid to go to bed, fearing what kind of dream he might have tonight. His sleep was a sound one and he awoke fully refreshed.
“Man, I’m glad to get a good night’s sleep,” he thought.
He made some coffee and fixed some breakfast and watched the news on TV as he awaited Conrad’s arrival.
It wasn’t long till he heard a truck pull up outside. He was really glad to see Conrad’s friendly but slightly concerned face.
“Hey, it’s sure good to see you!” said Paul.
“Good morning Mr. Hewlett. I’m glad to be here again.”
“Have you had breakfast? I can whip some up real quick“ said Paul.
“No thanks, I stopped at a diner before I pulled out of Kingsville this morning but I would like a cup of coffee.”
“No problem,” said Paul as he put on another pot of Java.
“Any problems so far?” asked Conrad.
“Not really but there have been some strange things going on and I hardly know where to start!”
Paul then related to Conrad all that had transpired on this trip, from the weird dream to the strange tale related by El Indio. He also told him about finding the cavern and the odd events about how he found it, how he opened it and then how he couldn’t open it.
“What do you make of all this?” asked Conrad.
“I wish I could understand any of it but I don’t! It is just so weird I am still puzzling over it all!” said Paul.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Friday, November 21, 2008
Waste Not, Want Not Chapter XXI
As El Indio continued his story he paused from time to time as both men smoked and sipped tea. These breaks allowed Paul a moment to absorb the incredible tale that El Indio was unfolding. He continued. “Let me start from the beginning. I am a Quiche (pronounced KEE chay) from far to the south in the Yucatan. The Quiche and the Mayans were closely intertwined and usually co-operative, sometimes though, wars would break out. The Quiche came to the Yucatan from this area many centuries ago. This land was called Aztlan. Events occurred that made life in Aztlan unbearable. Once a mighty nation wars with other peoples sapped their strength. A terrible drought and much pestilence drove my people to the south where they encountered the dominant Mayans and other peoples. The Quiche abandoned their gods, whom had deserted them, and adopted the religion of the Mayans. The Mayans gods were numerous and had many allies and spirits. Some were powerful and bold, others were craven and weak but full of hate. Some liked the people and helped them while others were to be feared and the people had to guard against them to prevent harm. Even Kukulcan, the Mighty One, could not always keep these evil spirits in check. Ah, the god of death, ruled Xibalba. Ah and Kukulcan often warred against each other and neither could gain the upper hand. Death could not be stopped in the long run.
Ah hated humans. He was always seeking to kill them. To keep him restrained Kukulcan ordered the people to make sacrifices of humans and to offer their hearts up to Ah in order to keep him satisfied in his blood lust. So this the people in the Yucatan and other places did regularly in order to preserve a sense of peace and order.”
Once again El Indio paused and they again smoked and sipped their tea.
Paul spoke for the first time since El Indio had begun his narrative. “This is a fantastic story you have here, you tell me this is all true?”
“I do not lie,” said El Indio. “This is the real and true story of the past. Listen, there is more and if you open your ears you might understand.”
“By all means, go ahead.”
“I am very old. You would not believe me if I told you my actual age. I come from a long line of men of what you might call shamans. We called such people men of knowledge. Here they are referred to as brujos, though that term is not quite correct. One of the duties my ancestors had was to guard the portals to Xibalba. We tried to make sure the most evil spirits could not come out among the people and do their harm. For a long time we succeeded but eventually events occurred that destroyed the civilization there and it was nearly gone when the white men first came. When the Yucatan civilization fell my ancestors did all they could to keep the evil spirits and demons trapped underground. Some slipped out and others followed the course of the underground rivers and made their way to other areas, including here to this cavern in old Aztlan.
Since those days the old men of knowledge and their descendants have worked to find and send back to Xibalba those spirits. It is for the good of the entire world we do this. My grandfather followed the underground passages to this place and he lived here the rest pf his life to be a sentinel guarding the gate to what people here call hell. He took a wife and his son took a wife and I was born from this union. I have no wife and now doubt I will have one, people here who know me are too frightened of me to consider marriage and besides it would take a very special and strong woman to be my wife. I am thinking about how to get my replacement when it is my time to pass on. But back to the rock. The rock you found is a portal to Xibalba. It must stay shut. You were able to open it once, which is amazing to me. I have used my powers to keep that rock in place yet you were able to move it.”
“Well, I did it with my truck and the winch,” said Paul.
“Yes but I am still amazed you could do it. You could not do it the second time, could you?”
“No,” said Paul, “I couldn’t.”
Ah hated humans. He was always seeking to kill them. To keep him restrained Kukulcan ordered the people to make sacrifices of humans and to offer their hearts up to Ah in order to keep him satisfied in his blood lust. So this the people in the Yucatan and other places did regularly in order to preserve a sense of peace and order.”
Once again El Indio paused and they again smoked and sipped their tea.
Paul spoke for the first time since El Indio had begun his narrative. “This is a fantastic story you have here, you tell me this is all true?”
“I do not lie,” said El Indio. “This is the real and true story of the past. Listen, there is more and if you open your ears you might understand.”
“By all means, go ahead.”
“I am very old. You would not believe me if I told you my actual age. I come from a long line of men of what you might call shamans. We called such people men of knowledge. Here they are referred to as brujos, though that term is not quite correct. One of the duties my ancestors had was to guard the portals to Xibalba. We tried to make sure the most evil spirits could not come out among the people and do their harm. For a long time we succeeded but eventually events occurred that destroyed the civilization there and it was nearly gone when the white men first came. When the Yucatan civilization fell my ancestors did all they could to keep the evil spirits and demons trapped underground. Some slipped out and others followed the course of the underground rivers and made their way to other areas, including here to this cavern in old Aztlan.
Since those days the old men of knowledge and their descendants have worked to find and send back to Xibalba those spirits. It is for the good of the entire world we do this. My grandfather followed the underground passages to this place and he lived here the rest pf his life to be a sentinel guarding the gate to what people here call hell. He took a wife and his son took a wife and I was born from this union. I have no wife and now doubt I will have one, people here who know me are too frightened of me to consider marriage and besides it would take a very special and strong woman to be my wife. I am thinking about how to get my replacement when it is my time to pass on. But back to the rock. The rock you found is a portal to Xibalba. It must stay shut. You were able to open it once, which is amazing to me. I have used my powers to keep that rock in place yet you were able to move it.”
“Well, I did it with my truck and the winch,” said Paul.
“Yes but I am still amazed you could do it. You could not do it the second time, could you?”
“No,” said Paul, “I couldn’t.”
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Waste Not, Want Not Chapter XX
Paul quickly found his way to the rock. He was excited but somewhat apprehensive as well.
As he pulled to a stop something seemed odd. He got out of the truck and walked over to the hole. It was covered! The rock had been put back in place! There were no tracks, no foot prints. How could this happen?
Truly perplexed he once again ran out his winch line and wrapped it around the rock. He got in the cab and began to reel in the line. It would not move. The line pulled taut, he gave it some gas and the truck moved, a sideways lurch toward the rock!
His tires were hot and smoking so he decided it best to give up on the idea.
Paul drove back to the ranch house and tried to think this out. It was odd and more than a little scary.
He got on the phone and rang up Conrad.
“Conrad, can you get on down here? I am going to need you here. Things are a bit problematic and I need your help.”
“Sure Mr. Hewitt,” Conrad replied. “You want me to come right now?
“No, you can come down in the morning.” said Paul. “I am going to do some other work tonight and make a phone call to Washington. In the morning will be fine.”
Paul opened his filing cabinet and drew out a handful of manila file folders, all bulging with documents. He sat down and began thumbing slowly through a stack.
He heard a knocking on the front door. “Who could that be?”
It was El Indio he greeted as he opened the door.
“Senor Hewlett,” said El Indio. “Did you move the rock?”
Paul was surprised. “What about the rock? How did you know about the rock?”
“May I come in””
“Of course, come in. Tea?”
“Yes, thank you.”
El Indio took a seat at the table. Paul had some water boiling and brought two cups, each with a tea bag draped over the edge.
“You moved the rock?” El Indio asked Paul. His face betrayed a slightly quizzical expression. “What did you find?”
“A big hole,” Paul replied.
“Why did you move it?”
Paul had no intention of saying anything about his plans. “I am just interested in caves,” he said.
“Did you have a visitor last night, “ asked El Indio.
“What do you mean? I had no visitors,” Paul said.
“Maybe in your dreams?”
Paul found this very disturbing. “What are you talking about? How would you know anything about my dreams?”
“I saw him” said El Indio. “I saw him go to your house.”
“What do you mean you saw him?” asked Paul.
“I saw Palinche Kha flying into your house last night,” said El Indio.
“You saw what?” Paul had no idea what he was talking about.
“Last night you had a bad dream didn’t you?” El Indio asked pointedly.
“How could you know anything about my dreams?”
El Indio said “He will make himself known to you as you sleep, He will appear in a dream. He is wanting to see into your ways. He wants to try to scare you, a test.”
This kind of talk was making Paul edgy. “El Indio, I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“I know you have an interest in the cave. That is a place you need to leave alone, stay away from there and never move the rock again,” said El Indio.
“Now look here, this is my place and I can do what I want! If I want to look into that cave I will!”
El Indio paused and looked into Paul’s eyes. Paul did not say a word.
“I will tell you about the cave,” said El Indio. “Let me explain the situation.”
El Indio said he needed a smoke and they sat there at the table and smoked together, El Indio with his pipe and Paul lit up a Cuban cigar. Then El Indio spoke.
“That rock covers a portal to Xibalba, the underworld where the dead go and the lords of Xibalba rule.” El Indio paused and looked intently at Paul as his words sunk in. He continued.
“It is a dreadful place. It reeks of sulfur, there is a river of putrid pus flowing through it. All along the floor of the caves, which are vast and meandering as they wind deep down into the earth, scorpions crawl and vampire bats fly through the caverns. There are holes and caves throughout, many are filled with the bones of long ago dead."
As he pulled to a stop something seemed odd. He got out of the truck and walked over to the hole. It was covered! The rock had been put back in place! There were no tracks, no foot prints. How could this happen?
Truly perplexed he once again ran out his winch line and wrapped it around the rock. He got in the cab and began to reel in the line. It would not move. The line pulled taut, he gave it some gas and the truck moved, a sideways lurch toward the rock!
His tires were hot and smoking so he decided it best to give up on the idea.
Paul drove back to the ranch house and tried to think this out. It was odd and more than a little scary.
He got on the phone and rang up Conrad.
“Conrad, can you get on down here? I am going to need you here. Things are a bit problematic and I need your help.”
“Sure Mr. Hewitt,” Conrad replied. “You want me to come right now?
“No, you can come down in the morning.” said Paul. “I am going to do some other work tonight and make a phone call to Washington. In the morning will be fine.”
Paul opened his filing cabinet and drew out a handful of manila file folders, all bulging with documents. He sat down and began thumbing slowly through a stack.
He heard a knocking on the front door. “Who could that be?”
It was El Indio he greeted as he opened the door.
“Senor Hewlett,” said El Indio. “Did you move the rock?”
Paul was surprised. “What about the rock? How did you know about the rock?”
“May I come in””
“Of course, come in. Tea?”
“Yes, thank you.”
El Indio took a seat at the table. Paul had some water boiling and brought two cups, each with a tea bag draped over the edge.
“You moved the rock?” El Indio asked Paul. His face betrayed a slightly quizzical expression. “What did you find?”
“A big hole,” Paul replied.
“Why did you move it?”
Paul had no intention of saying anything about his plans. “I am just interested in caves,” he said.
“Did you have a visitor last night, “ asked El Indio.
“What do you mean? I had no visitors,” Paul said.
“Maybe in your dreams?”
Paul found this very disturbing. “What are you talking about? How would you know anything about my dreams?”
“I saw him” said El Indio. “I saw him go to your house.”
“What do you mean you saw him?” asked Paul.
“I saw Palinche Kha flying into your house last night,” said El Indio.
“You saw what?” Paul had no idea what he was talking about.
“Last night you had a bad dream didn’t you?” El Indio asked pointedly.
“How could you know anything about my dreams?”
El Indio said “He will make himself known to you as you sleep, He will appear in a dream. He is wanting to see into your ways. He wants to try to scare you, a test.”
This kind of talk was making Paul edgy. “El Indio, I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“I know you have an interest in the cave. That is a place you need to leave alone, stay away from there and never move the rock again,” said El Indio.
“Now look here, this is my place and I can do what I want! If I want to look into that cave I will!”
El Indio paused and looked into Paul’s eyes. Paul did not say a word.
“I will tell you about the cave,” said El Indio. “Let me explain the situation.”
El Indio said he needed a smoke and they sat there at the table and smoked together, El Indio with his pipe and Paul lit up a Cuban cigar. Then El Indio spoke.
“That rock covers a portal to Xibalba, the underworld where the dead go and the lords of Xibalba rule.” El Indio paused and looked intently at Paul as his words sunk in. He continued.
“It is a dreadful place. It reeks of sulfur, there is a river of putrid pus flowing through it. All along the floor of the caves, which are vast and meandering as they wind deep down into the earth, scorpions crawl and vampire bats fly through the caverns. There are holes and caves throughout, many are filled with the bones of long ago dead."
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Waste Not, Want Not Chapter XIX
Paul was a bit excited as he went about the usual routine he had so far fallen into here at the ranch house. Here he was much slower, more relaxed than he would be in his normal work or living environment. He liked that, surprisingly.
But tonight he rode a thrill of silent exultation. He was certain he had found his cavern.
He was no spelunker and had done very little cave crawling. “Hell, I am even a bit claustrophobic.”
Paul had brought rope, rope ladders, powerful flashlights, goggles and chalk markers and a camera. He just wanted to get in and take a peek and get back out and go from there.
After his nightcap and a bit of reading Paul was ready to go to bed.
Quickly he was off to sleep. His sleep was again fitful and instead of rest he was filled with anxiety. Then he dreamed. In the dream he found himself in a torch lit room. Suddenly amidst the clouds of sooty smoke he saw a fantastic figure, standing taller than a man with huge, bulging, expressionless eyes, pupils pinned to small black spots. The figure was moving rhythmically to and fro in a kind of slow dance. As he focused on it he saw it wore an elaborate carved and jewel encrusted headdress . The impression was reptilian because of what seemed like scales but long multi colored plumes extended out and down the back like a tail.
The strange thing wore armor of turquoise, covered with its own carved shapes and designs. It also wore gold bands around the wrists and ankles and bone necklaces around its neck. It had large jade loops worn through the earlobes. It had a long jade splinter piercing through the septum of the nose. A gold ring hung from the lip on the lower right side of its mouth. It was breathing smoke and its large insect like eyes sometimes glowed in green and blue shades.
It was altogether an extremely frightening sight. In one hand it held a large jade knife. In the other hand it held a beating human heart. The creature took the heart and held it high and Paul saw it was beating as a torrent of blood, far in excess of what you would expect, poured from the heart. The blood seemed to flood the scene until Paul could see nothing but blood. It all seemed to be happening in some kind of vivid, fluorescent 3D. Then the heart was hurled into an abyss of darkness and the scene faded away. Paul was not awakened but the dream had a terrifying effect and it lingered long after Paul got up that next morning.
“Whew! What a dream!”
Paul was a confident and secure person. He did not rattle easily. He took stock of his experiences as he had his breakfast.
“There is definitely something strange about this place,” he thought. “I am not just imagining all this.” Paul was slightly concerned since he had not experienced nightmares or any unusually strange dreams in years until he came here. But he had known people what had put too much stock in dreams and what they thought they might mean or portend. He had seen them become ill with worry and dread. Paul did not think dreams held any great powers of prophecy. It was usually easy for him to shrug them off. This time it was different. He had a feeling he was still waiting for the last shoe to drop, so to speak.
But tonight he rode a thrill of silent exultation. He was certain he had found his cavern.
He was no spelunker and had done very little cave crawling. “Hell, I am even a bit claustrophobic.”
Paul had brought rope, rope ladders, powerful flashlights, goggles and chalk markers and a camera. He just wanted to get in and take a peek and get back out and go from there.
After his nightcap and a bit of reading Paul was ready to go to bed.
Quickly he was off to sleep. His sleep was again fitful and instead of rest he was filled with anxiety. Then he dreamed. In the dream he found himself in a torch lit room. Suddenly amidst the clouds of sooty smoke he saw a fantastic figure, standing taller than a man with huge, bulging, expressionless eyes, pupils pinned to small black spots. The figure was moving rhythmically to and fro in a kind of slow dance. As he focused on it he saw it wore an elaborate carved and jewel encrusted headdress . The impression was reptilian because of what seemed like scales but long multi colored plumes extended out and down the back like a tail.
The strange thing wore armor of turquoise, covered with its own carved shapes and designs. It also wore gold bands around the wrists and ankles and bone necklaces around its neck. It had large jade loops worn through the earlobes. It had a long jade splinter piercing through the septum of the nose. A gold ring hung from the lip on the lower right side of its mouth. It was breathing smoke and its large insect like eyes sometimes glowed in green and blue shades.
It was altogether an extremely frightening sight. In one hand it held a large jade knife. In the other hand it held a beating human heart. The creature took the heart and held it high and Paul saw it was beating as a torrent of blood, far in excess of what you would expect, poured from the heart. The blood seemed to flood the scene until Paul could see nothing but blood. It all seemed to be happening in some kind of vivid, fluorescent 3D. Then the heart was hurled into an abyss of darkness and the scene faded away. Paul was not awakened but the dream had a terrifying effect and it lingered long after Paul got up that next morning.
“Whew! What a dream!”
Paul was a confident and secure person. He did not rattle easily. He took stock of his experiences as he had his breakfast.
“There is definitely something strange about this place,” he thought. “I am not just imagining all this.” Paul was slightly concerned since he had not experienced nightmares or any unusually strange dreams in years until he came here. But he had known people what had put too much stock in dreams and what they thought they might mean or portend. He had seen them become ill with worry and dread. Paul did not think dreams held any great powers of prophecy. It was usually easy for him to shrug them off. This time it was different. He had a feeling he was still waiting for the last shoe to drop, so to speak.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Waste Not, Want Not Chapter XVIII
Always the early riser Paul returned to walk the area as the sun had just peeked over the horizon and with no clouds present the day was soon brilliant and, as the day before, crisp and breezy, a great day!
Things always appeared differently in the bright morning sun than later in the day and, of course, from the waning light at sunset. Paul thought he might see something in the different light. He enjoyed walking around out in the country anyway, the snake bite did not linger in his mind.
He went back to the truck and drove to another spot, a small, rocky hill with a few scrubby mesquite trees sprouting from its mini summit. Nothing much in sight.
He parked and got out of the truck and began to walk in a slow, circular pattern, gradually widening the distance from the truck. This was a lot harder because he just didn’t know exactly what it was he was looking for.
He sat down on a grassy hummock and pulled out his Stanley classic green thermos and poured a cup of coffee. Drinking slowly he watched birds of many kinds flitting about, a rabbit broke from cover and scurried to nearby brush. It was quiet, except for the gusty winds.
When he was finished he reached down for his thermos bottle and it rolled off the rock and fell. “Dang!” he said as he reached down for it but he didn’t find it.
“Hmmm…” He got onto his knees and reached around under the rock, until it occurred to him there could be some critters under there so he pulled it out.
“Where could it go?”
He returned to the truck and took his flashlight from it along with a hoe he had in the back. Cautiously he knelt down and shined the light under the rocks. Nothing he could see. He poked around with the handle of the hoe but he felt nothing.
“It has to be under there!”
He was satisfied there was nothing under there so he reached in and felt all around and he realized there was a hole there, the thermos must have fallen into the hole.
“I don’t want to lose it.”
He had to figure out a way to move that rock. He pulled the truck closer and rolled out the winch line. He wrapped the cable twice around the outside circumference of the rock and climbed into the driver’s seat and engaged the winch. The line soon pulled taught and for a moment would move no more. Suddenly the rock slipped and moved toward the truck. Paul reeled in the line and slowly the rock crept closer and closer.
“That ought to do it ,” said Paul as he jumped out of the truck and strode towards the hole. He peered in. A rotten smelling rush of stale air greeted him as he poked his head in. “Whew!”
Paul knew he had found the cavern. He peered into the inky blackness and pointed his flash light down into void. He could see a ledge about six feet down which faced another large hole into which he could not see.
“This must be it.” Paul considered his options. “If I climb in now and something happens I may never be found.” He went back to the truck and poured some coffee. After he finished his cup he took a hammer from his tool box and found a sturdy stick which he pounded into the ground beside the hole. He found an oil rag in the truck and tied it to the stick.
“Now I will be able to find this place.”
He drove back to the ranch house to consider how or even if he should explore the cavern.
Things always appeared differently in the bright morning sun than later in the day and, of course, from the waning light at sunset. Paul thought he might see something in the different light. He enjoyed walking around out in the country anyway, the snake bite did not linger in his mind.
He went back to the truck and drove to another spot, a small, rocky hill with a few scrubby mesquite trees sprouting from its mini summit. Nothing much in sight.
He parked and got out of the truck and began to walk in a slow, circular pattern, gradually widening the distance from the truck. This was a lot harder because he just didn’t know exactly what it was he was looking for.
He sat down on a grassy hummock and pulled out his Stanley classic green thermos and poured a cup of coffee. Drinking slowly he watched birds of many kinds flitting about, a rabbit broke from cover and scurried to nearby brush. It was quiet, except for the gusty winds.
When he was finished he reached down for his thermos bottle and it rolled off the rock and fell. “Dang!” he said as he reached down for it but he didn’t find it.
“Hmmm…” He got onto his knees and reached around under the rock, until it occurred to him there could be some critters under there so he pulled it out.
“Where could it go?”
He returned to the truck and took his flashlight from it along with a hoe he had in the back. Cautiously he knelt down and shined the light under the rocks. Nothing he could see. He poked around with the handle of the hoe but he felt nothing.
“It has to be under there!”
He was satisfied there was nothing under there so he reached in and felt all around and he realized there was a hole there, the thermos must have fallen into the hole.
“I don’t want to lose it.”
He had to figure out a way to move that rock. He pulled the truck closer and rolled out the winch line. He wrapped the cable twice around the outside circumference of the rock and climbed into the driver’s seat and engaged the winch. The line soon pulled taught and for a moment would move no more. Suddenly the rock slipped and moved toward the truck. Paul reeled in the line and slowly the rock crept closer and closer.
“That ought to do it ,” said Paul as he jumped out of the truck and strode towards the hole. He peered in. A rotten smelling rush of stale air greeted him as he poked his head in. “Whew!”
Paul knew he had found the cavern. He peered into the inky blackness and pointed his flash light down into void. He could see a ledge about six feet down which faced another large hole into which he could not see.
“This must be it.” Paul considered his options. “If I climb in now and something happens I may never be found.” He went back to the truck and poured some coffee. After he finished his cup he took a hammer from his tool box and found a sturdy stick which he pounded into the ground beside the hole. He found an oil rag in the truck and tied it to the stick.
“Now I will be able to find this place.”
He drove back to the ranch house to consider how or even if he should explore the cavern.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Waste Not, Want Not Chapter XVII
Up early the next morning, Paul made some coffee and fixed his breakfast, bacon and eggs. It was a beautiful day. A late spring cold front had blown in overnight and the skies were clear and blue with a thirty mile an hour north wind making the air crisp indeed!
Paul loved this weather. He found it extremely stimulating.
He was feeling good.
As he finished his breakfast he pondered his schedule for the day. He had a strong desire to see Maria. She had been there, flickering in the back of his mind, ever since the bizarre dream he had of her as the seductress. “That’s just a silly dream,” he told himself. “She’s not like she was in the dream, she’s much older and certainly not lusting for me!”
He had other things to do and he wanted to find the cavern. He took his map of the place, which had been created with high tech satellite pictures, and drove out into the ranch. The map showed him the location of the cavern, he had to find an entrance.
The map led him to a small, rocky hill, covered with brush and mesquite trees. He saw nothing that appeared as if it might hide a cave entrance. He spent the next few hours walking over the ground and poking around with no luck.
“Well, the MRI co-ordinates place it somewhere near here. I will just have to keep looking I guess,” Paul said to himself.
After a few hours more he gave up and returned to the ranch house.
“I’ll come back early in the morning and try again. I know it is here.’ he thought.
In spite of his harrowing experiences here he liked it here, it was quiet and he liked the large expanse of wild, natural land and all it’s inhabitants, and no tourists! And it was all his! There was something about this place that was odd though. There was a strange vibe about this place. He felt a strong sense of intensity here. His senses and feelings were somehow on alert here and he had a sense of anticipation and even some apprehension, as if he was waiting for something more to happen. He shrugged that off to some kind of creeping senility or something! No need to worry, he knew he would not become senile!
After a good supper and a glass of bourbon he relaxed and watched the TV news. The big story was about the collision of a U.S. Navy EP-3E with a Chinese fighter jet just off of Hainan Island. The Chinese fighter had crashed and the pilot was killed.
The American plane had made an emergency landing and the plane was seized and the crew placed in captivity.
Paul was familiar with that area and he also knew the new President was playing with fire by sending reconnaissance flights over what has long been disputed waters. He knew that up until now the Navy had avoided those waters not thinking it was worth risking just such an incident.
“I don’t know about this guy,” Paul thought. He knew the President and his father, Bush 41, well. He thought the younger Bush was an insecure man, desperately wanting to better his father’s record as President and to make his own reputation on the world stage. That was not a comforting thought.
Paul poured another drink and settled into his recliner and once again studied his maps and charts. Tomorrow he would be back out again bright and early.
Paul loved this weather. He found it extremely stimulating.
He was feeling good.
As he finished his breakfast he pondered his schedule for the day. He had a strong desire to see Maria. She had been there, flickering in the back of his mind, ever since the bizarre dream he had of her as the seductress. “That’s just a silly dream,” he told himself. “She’s not like she was in the dream, she’s much older and certainly not lusting for me!”
He had other things to do and he wanted to find the cavern. He took his map of the place, which had been created with high tech satellite pictures, and drove out into the ranch. The map showed him the location of the cavern, he had to find an entrance.
The map led him to a small, rocky hill, covered with brush and mesquite trees. He saw nothing that appeared as if it might hide a cave entrance. He spent the next few hours walking over the ground and poking around with no luck.
“Well, the MRI co-ordinates place it somewhere near here. I will just have to keep looking I guess,” Paul said to himself.
After a few hours more he gave up and returned to the ranch house.
“I’ll come back early in the morning and try again. I know it is here.’ he thought.
In spite of his harrowing experiences here he liked it here, it was quiet and he liked the large expanse of wild, natural land and all it’s inhabitants, and no tourists! And it was all his! There was something about this place that was odd though. There was a strange vibe about this place. He felt a strong sense of intensity here. His senses and feelings were somehow on alert here and he had a sense of anticipation and even some apprehension, as if he was waiting for something more to happen. He shrugged that off to some kind of creeping senility or something! No need to worry, he knew he would not become senile!
After a good supper and a glass of bourbon he relaxed and watched the TV news. The big story was about the collision of a U.S. Navy EP-3E with a Chinese fighter jet just off of Hainan Island. The Chinese fighter had crashed and the pilot was killed.
The American plane had made an emergency landing and the plane was seized and the crew placed in captivity.
Paul was familiar with that area and he also knew the new President was playing with fire by sending reconnaissance flights over what has long been disputed waters. He knew that up until now the Navy had avoided those waters not thinking it was worth risking just such an incident.
“I don’t know about this guy,” Paul thought. He knew the President and his father, Bush 41, well. He thought the younger Bush was an insecure man, desperately wanting to better his father’s record as President and to make his own reputation on the world stage. That was not a comforting thought.
Paul poured another drink and settled into his recliner and once again studied his maps and charts. Tomorrow he would be back out again bright and early.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Waste Not, Want Not Chapter XVI
Waste Not, Want Not Chapter XVI
Paul was usually not given to dreaming. Or maybe he just didn’t remember them. He did recall a few strange dreams that were vividly real.
Such dreams entered his consciousness as if he was wide awake, all senses working, and in full color.
This night he dreamed. He found himself back in the ranch house at the De La Garza ranch. He was watching the news and enjoying some bourbon and there was knock at the door. He opened the door and there stood Maria, Juan’s widow. But she appeared much younger, maybe in her twenties. She was beautiful, with flashing black eyes, glowing, brown skin and long, scented black hair. She wore a flowing, light cotton skirt, embroidered with small flowers. Her white cotton peasant blouse was also embroidered with colorful flowers. The blouse was pulled low, exposing her bare shoulders and very attractive cleavage. She smiled at him as he stared.
“Senor Hewlett, can I come in?” She spoke in Spanish, in a soft, low voice.
“Uh…yes…of course…please come in…” he stammered.
She came in slowly. He offered a chair.
She didn’t take it. She stood, in front of Paul and gave him a look that left no doubt as to her desire.
Maria stepped forward and kissed Paul passionately on the mouth as she took his two hands in her own.
Paul responded with the fervor of a man much younger. She slowly placed his hands on her breasts. He squeezed and caressed them through the thin fabric of her blouse.
She moaned slowly, softly. He pulled the blouse down to her waist and he kissed her harder as he grabbed her breasts, squeezing them and then moving his fingers to her small but hard nipples.
She dropped her skirt and she moved his right hand down her smooth, brown body and placed it down, between her legs.
She then stepped back. She gave him a cold look. “Come back to the Rancho! I’ll be there,” she said as she faded into the background and vanished.
Paul suddenly awakened. He sat upright and blinked his eyes as he looked around his darkened bed room. Of course he was alone. He felt much as he had back at the ranch house his first night there.
“Damned odd,” he said to himself he fought his way to a fitful sleep.
The next day he decided it was time to return to the rancho.
“Nothing to do with that weird dream… “
When he got to his office that morning he made arrangements to be gone until further notice. Once again he found himself flying into South Texas.
Conrad had handled all the groundwork for his trip. This time, however, he flew down ahead and took a room in Kingsville and waited for Paul’s arrival.
As he did the last time, Paul picked up a Chevy Blazer at the airport and headed to Kingsville where he picked up some groceries at the HEB. He then stopped at the Palm Breeze Motel and knocked on the door at room 109.
Conrad opened the door. “Hey Mr. Hewlett,” he said with a smile “Welcome to Kingsville!”
“Hi Conrad.” Paul entered and sat down at the table. “Want a cold beer?”
“Sure,“ Conrad nodded and took a bottle from Paul.
Conrad was a God send for Paul. He often served as Paul’s shadow while traveling, sometimes as body guard, sometimes just tailing him and checking in electronically from time to time. He was expert at doing the front work, lodging, transportation, maps, directions, info and anything else to make Paul’s business and personal life go more smoothly.
They enjoyed a beer and watched some TV. Paul said he wanted Conrad to come out to the place around noon and they would look around together. Paul took his leave and soon was on the road.
It wasn’t long before Paul came to the gate and he let himself in. The sun was getting low on the horizon as he drove by the homes of the ranch workers. He noticed Maria’s lights were on as he passed. He continued on and parked in front of the ranch house.
Conrad had restocked the fridge and the pantry. The electricity was on and it was very comfortable inside the house. Paul picked out a TV dinner and popped it in the microwave.
After eating he had a drink, bourbon on the rocks, and relaxed.
His mind focused on Maria. He couldn’t forget the image of Maria as she had appeared in the dream.
“Get your mind on your business!” he told himself. He didn’t want to lose focus on why he had come here in the first place.
Paul had another fitful night’s sleep. He awoke in the morning feeling tired and out of sorts. “I sure haven’t been sleeping well lately,” he thought.
Paul was usually not given to dreaming. Or maybe he just didn’t remember them. He did recall a few strange dreams that were vividly real.
Such dreams entered his consciousness as if he was wide awake, all senses working, and in full color.
This night he dreamed. He found himself back in the ranch house at the De La Garza ranch. He was watching the news and enjoying some bourbon and there was knock at the door. He opened the door and there stood Maria, Juan’s widow. But she appeared much younger, maybe in her twenties. She was beautiful, with flashing black eyes, glowing, brown skin and long, scented black hair. She wore a flowing, light cotton skirt, embroidered with small flowers. Her white cotton peasant blouse was also embroidered with colorful flowers. The blouse was pulled low, exposing her bare shoulders and very attractive cleavage. She smiled at him as he stared.
“Senor Hewlett, can I come in?” She spoke in Spanish, in a soft, low voice.
“Uh…yes…of course…please come in…” he stammered.
She came in slowly. He offered a chair.
She didn’t take it. She stood, in front of Paul and gave him a look that left no doubt as to her desire.
Maria stepped forward and kissed Paul passionately on the mouth as she took his two hands in her own.
Paul responded with the fervor of a man much younger. She slowly placed his hands on her breasts. He squeezed and caressed them through the thin fabric of her blouse.
She moaned slowly, softly. He pulled the blouse down to her waist and he kissed her harder as he grabbed her breasts, squeezing them and then moving his fingers to her small but hard nipples.
She dropped her skirt and she moved his right hand down her smooth, brown body and placed it down, between her legs.
She then stepped back. She gave him a cold look. “Come back to the Rancho! I’ll be there,” she said as she faded into the background and vanished.
Paul suddenly awakened. He sat upright and blinked his eyes as he looked around his darkened bed room. Of course he was alone. He felt much as he had back at the ranch house his first night there.
“Damned odd,” he said to himself he fought his way to a fitful sleep.
The next day he decided it was time to return to the rancho.
“Nothing to do with that weird dream… “
When he got to his office that morning he made arrangements to be gone until further notice. Once again he found himself flying into South Texas.
Conrad had handled all the groundwork for his trip. This time, however, he flew down ahead and took a room in Kingsville and waited for Paul’s arrival.
As he did the last time, Paul picked up a Chevy Blazer at the airport and headed to Kingsville where he picked up some groceries at the HEB. He then stopped at the Palm Breeze Motel and knocked on the door at room 109.
Conrad opened the door. “Hey Mr. Hewlett,” he said with a smile “Welcome to Kingsville!”
“Hi Conrad.” Paul entered and sat down at the table. “Want a cold beer?”
“Sure,“ Conrad nodded and took a bottle from Paul.
Conrad was a God send for Paul. He often served as Paul’s shadow while traveling, sometimes as body guard, sometimes just tailing him and checking in electronically from time to time. He was expert at doing the front work, lodging, transportation, maps, directions, info and anything else to make Paul’s business and personal life go more smoothly.
They enjoyed a beer and watched some TV. Paul said he wanted Conrad to come out to the place around noon and they would look around together. Paul took his leave and soon was on the road.
It wasn’t long before Paul came to the gate and he let himself in. The sun was getting low on the horizon as he drove by the homes of the ranch workers. He noticed Maria’s lights were on as he passed. He continued on and parked in front of the ranch house.
Conrad had restocked the fridge and the pantry. The electricity was on and it was very comfortable inside the house. Paul picked out a TV dinner and popped it in the microwave.
After eating he had a drink, bourbon on the rocks, and relaxed.
His mind focused on Maria. He couldn’t forget the image of Maria as she had appeared in the dream.
“Get your mind on your business!” he told himself. He didn’t want to lose focus on why he had come here in the first place.
Paul had another fitful night’s sleep. He awoke in the morning feeling tired and out of sorts. “I sure haven’t been sleeping well lately,” he thought.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Waste Not, Want Not Chapter XV
The following day found Paul arriving early at Albert Hyak’s office in his very elegant building.
Albert was at the open door when Paul came down the hall.
“Good morning Paul! I hope the brisk weather is beneficial for you!”
“Good morning Albert! You look bright eyed and bushy tailed!”
Coffee was waiting on the desk with two hot cups on a silver serving tray.
The two men sipped their coffee.
“Very good,” said Paul.
“So tell me about your trip to your new property,” said Albert.
“I think it is promising. There is apparently a large, deep cavern on the place. I didn’t get a chance to look at it.”
“Yes, you told me of your ordeal there! Take your time, get healthy before you go back.”
“I am doing fine. I will make another trip soon. There are some problems with the place though. There is a group of people, squatters really, that live there and cultivate the place and run the cattle and just carry on the business of the ranch. They’ve been doing it for a number of years apparently,” said Paul.
“Why they will just have to go! Can’t have them about…”
Paul replied “It’s not that simple. They are known in the community and causing a sudden disruption of those families could draw unwanted attention. We need to think about this.”
“Hmmm,” grunted Albert. “I see what you mean. Well, what do we do?”
I am working on it,” Paul said, though he was momentarily perplexed. But he would never let that be known.
“There is no big hurry right now, things are still settling down here. The new administration hasn’t got going yet and we need to bide our time a little while anyway,” said Albert.
So for the next few weeks Paul returned to business. As he expected it looked like a good year already. He had laid a solid groundwork in his various enterprises and stocked the company leaderships with men he had known for years, and then their sons.
He had a far flung business empire with gasoline retail outlets, transport, refineries, drilling companies, exploration companies, geologist, the works, a fully integrated business model in petroleum.
He was fond of saying that his organization “ran like a well oiled machine!” He had a poor sense of humor but he found his weak pun hilarious.
His companies were autonomous. Their CEO’s and boards had full responsibility for their operations and shared handsomely in the good times and rode out leaner times, of which there had been few lately.
Paul did keep a sharp eye on things. He knew what was going on in his companies. When he found something going wrong he acted quickly. He was known to richly reward good management and accomplishments. He was also known to be ruthless and relentless when he found something he had to fix.
At the moment he was concentrating on his facilities at Oak Ridge and Yucca Flats. There was a surplus of radioactive waste building up in their lead lined under ground silos. This added extra urgency to his Waste Not, Want Not plan.
After a long day Paul decided to go home and relax for a change and maybe go to bed early. He fixed a quick dinner, poured a drink and watched the news before he went to bed.
Albert was at the open door when Paul came down the hall.
“Good morning Paul! I hope the brisk weather is beneficial for you!”
“Good morning Albert! You look bright eyed and bushy tailed!”
Coffee was waiting on the desk with two hot cups on a silver serving tray.
The two men sipped their coffee.
“Very good,” said Paul.
“So tell me about your trip to your new property,” said Albert.
“I think it is promising. There is apparently a large, deep cavern on the place. I didn’t get a chance to look at it.”
“Yes, you told me of your ordeal there! Take your time, get healthy before you go back.”
“I am doing fine. I will make another trip soon. There are some problems with the place though. There is a group of people, squatters really, that live there and cultivate the place and run the cattle and just carry on the business of the ranch. They’ve been doing it for a number of years apparently,” said Paul.
“Why they will just have to go! Can’t have them about…”
Paul replied “It’s not that simple. They are known in the community and causing a sudden disruption of those families could draw unwanted attention. We need to think about this.”
“Hmmm,” grunted Albert. “I see what you mean. Well, what do we do?”
I am working on it,” Paul said, though he was momentarily perplexed. But he would never let that be known.
“There is no big hurry right now, things are still settling down here. The new administration hasn’t got going yet and we need to bide our time a little while anyway,” said Albert.
So for the next few weeks Paul returned to business. As he expected it looked like a good year already. He had laid a solid groundwork in his various enterprises and stocked the company leaderships with men he had known for years, and then their sons.
He had a far flung business empire with gasoline retail outlets, transport, refineries, drilling companies, exploration companies, geologist, the works, a fully integrated business model in petroleum.
He was fond of saying that his organization “ran like a well oiled machine!” He had a poor sense of humor but he found his weak pun hilarious.
His companies were autonomous. Their CEO’s and boards had full responsibility for their operations and shared handsomely in the good times and rode out leaner times, of which there had been few lately.
Paul did keep a sharp eye on things. He knew what was going on in his companies. When he found something going wrong he acted quickly. He was known to richly reward good management and accomplishments. He was also known to be ruthless and relentless when he found something he had to fix.
At the moment he was concentrating on his facilities at Oak Ridge and Yucca Flats. There was a surplus of radioactive waste building up in their lead lined under ground silos. This added extra urgency to his Waste Not, Want Not plan.
After a long day Paul decided to go home and relax for a change and maybe go to bed early. He fixed a quick dinner, poured a drink and watched the news before he went to bed.
Monday, June 9, 2008
Waste Not, Want Not Chapter XIV
There was one party Paul would not miss. The night of the biggest wing ding he found himself at the must attend affair at the Cohen House, with the dowager heiress Dolly Cohen as the hostess.
Dolly was the descendant of a prominent Jewish family whose ancestor was among the small number of Jews among the founding fathers.
Dolly had been a social maven since the days of Camelot, Jackie and J.F.K. She was not partisan. She paid homage to whoever was in power at the moment. But she knew everybody and everybody
came to her parties. And she knew how to throw a party.
Paul stood in the crowded drawing room sipping a martini and surveying the party goers. He had renewed his acquaintances with the President, Vice-President Cheney and had met some of the cabinet members he did not know.
The swing jazz band was playing and he was looking for someone. Then he saw Albert Hyak. Albert was a tall, distinguished man with grey beginning to frost his curly dark hair. He was of a Lebanese family, very wealthy and with contacts worldwide. Albert saw Paul also and walked to him.
“Paul! Glad you are back home!” Albert extended his right hand for a hearty handshake. “Let’s go outside where we can talk.” With that the two walked out onto a terrace which was dark except for the moonlight.
“So tell me where you’ve been.”
“Well, it’s good to be home,” said Paul. “Albert, I was on a bit of a hunting trip, and I looked at a possible useful site for WN2.” (WN2 was the abbreviation of the code name Waste Not Want Not.)
Albert was one of them, the Defenders. Paul was the founder.
The Defenders was a group of wealthy, influential and powerful men who shared certain viewpoints. So much did they believe in the correctness of their vision and of their agendas they were willing to go to extraordinary lengths to maintain near total secrecy, not only their actions but even about their very existence.
These men shared a virulent hatred of communism, they were still locked in the cold war and were not convinced it was over.
They also looked upon themselves as those best able to guide the world to a future they envisioned as best. They were strong American nationalists, they would call themselves “patriots,” but they were not fond of Jeffersonian democracy.
They had formed an organization to secretly store nuclear materials, bombs, components, fissionable materials, technology and equipment and any thing they thought might be necessary to jump start the nuclear capability at short notice.
It was apparent that the inventories and oversight of the overall programs were amazingly lax and amazingly easy to circumvent.
The Defenders had no trust in the new Russian democracy, they felt it was just a matter of time before a resurgence of the communists, or something worse, once again took over the reins of the Russian government.
They were also very much afraid of rising Chinese power. They continued to refer to the Chinese as the “Red Chinese.”
In their opinion many secret defense projects which had been abandoned were worth keeping and developing. So they combined their vast combination of wealth, influence, power and experience into creating something approaching an under ground government ready to step in if events, as they saw them, required it.
The Defenders said they were saving for a "rainy day.”
Their program carried the code name “Waste Not, Want Not!”
Dolly was the descendant of a prominent Jewish family whose ancestor was among the small number of Jews among the founding fathers.
Dolly had been a social maven since the days of Camelot, Jackie and J.F.K. She was not partisan. She paid homage to whoever was in power at the moment. But she knew everybody and everybody
came to her parties. And she knew how to throw a party.
Paul stood in the crowded drawing room sipping a martini and surveying the party goers. He had renewed his acquaintances with the President, Vice-President Cheney and had met some of the cabinet members he did not know.
The swing jazz band was playing and he was looking for someone. Then he saw Albert Hyak. Albert was a tall, distinguished man with grey beginning to frost his curly dark hair. He was of a Lebanese family, very wealthy and with contacts worldwide. Albert saw Paul also and walked to him.
“Paul! Glad you are back home!” Albert extended his right hand for a hearty handshake. “Let’s go outside where we can talk.” With that the two walked out onto a terrace which was dark except for the moonlight.
“So tell me where you’ve been.”
“Well, it’s good to be home,” said Paul. “Albert, I was on a bit of a hunting trip, and I looked at a possible useful site for WN2.” (WN2 was the abbreviation of the code name Waste Not Want Not.)
Albert was one of them, the Defenders. Paul was the founder.
The Defenders was a group of wealthy, influential and powerful men who shared certain viewpoints. So much did they believe in the correctness of their vision and of their agendas they were willing to go to extraordinary lengths to maintain near total secrecy, not only their actions but even about their very existence.
These men shared a virulent hatred of communism, they were still locked in the cold war and were not convinced it was over.
They also looked upon themselves as those best able to guide the world to a future they envisioned as best. They were strong American nationalists, they would call themselves “patriots,” but they were not fond of Jeffersonian democracy.
They had formed an organization to secretly store nuclear materials, bombs, components, fissionable materials, technology and equipment and any thing they thought might be necessary to jump start the nuclear capability at short notice.
It was apparent that the inventories and oversight of the overall programs were amazingly lax and amazingly easy to circumvent.
The Defenders had no trust in the new Russian democracy, they felt it was just a matter of time before a resurgence of the communists, or something worse, once again took over the reins of the Russian government.
They were also very much afraid of rising Chinese power. They continued to refer to the Chinese as the “Red Chinese.”
In their opinion many secret defense projects which had been abandoned were worth keeping and developing. So they combined their vast combination of wealth, influence, power and experience into creating something approaching an under ground government ready to step in if events, as they saw them, required it.
The Defenders said they were saving for a "rainy day.”
Their program carried the code name “Waste Not, Want Not!”
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Waste Not, Want Not Chapter I
January 8, 2001
“Ring! Ring!”
The telephone began to ring in this luxury bedroom suite in the Reagan Arms International Hotel, Washington.
Emerging from the bathroom quickly, and wiping his face with a towel, a trim man, fit for his mid seventies, wearing a silk brocade bath robe with his monogram embroidered over his chest, tripped over the Persian footstool as he hurried to answer the phone.
"Damn!" he cursed, and kicked the offending furniture out of his way as he hurriedly rushed toward the phone.
Suddenly the door from the adjoining room was flung ajar and in rushed a large, athletic man, causally dressed but clutching the handle of his automatic pistol still in its exposed shoulder holster.
"Is everything OK Mr. Hewlett? I heard the racket in here." "Fine Conrad. Leave me alone right now, I think this is the important phone call I have been expecting."
"Yes sir." Said Conrad as he backed out the door.
He picked up the phone and said "Yes?"
A soft female voice with a strong Texas accent asked "Is this Mr. Paul Hewlett? It is? Wonderful. I'm Senator Grimm’s secretary, please go ahead Senator."
"Hello Paul." Said the voice on the other end of the phone. "How in the world are you doing?"
The Senator continued. "Happy New Year by the way, I’m a little bit late. It's always good to hear from you. Listen Paul, I'm calling about that matter we discussed. The timing could not be better. Since the President elect’s victory in the election has been confirmed I think we will be able to move ahead on that project. Of course the President elect knows nothing about this but I have it
on solid background that we will have some of our people well placed in the new administration. This little program of yours might slip through totally unnoticed."
Paul asked "How about EPA clearance?"
'That's no problem for now." The senator replied. "The EPA director designate will be someone on our side. Of course this is a 'black project' and no one in EPA knows what this is really about. Once you have your clearance it is likely no one will ever look into it. In any case I would suggest you get your groundwork started as soon as possible. I still believe in the project and I believe that it is important for national security."
"Good. That's good." Said Paul. "Your help in this matter is really appreciated Bill. And give the President my congratulations. I've known him since he was a boy, you know. His dad and I go way back. And, as always, you can count on my support when you're up for re-election I am sure we can put together some successful fund raisers."
Paul continued. "I'm going down to Texas tomorrow. I'll be going out to that property we purchased and I'll be looking it over and checking into the local details. I'll officially be on vacation and I'm just going out in the boonies. We're keeping a tight lid on this thing. I'll call you if I have any big problems but it looks like everything is all set up for the moment. Thanks again."
"Glad to be of help Paul, 'bye now." Responded the senator as he hung up.
Paul Hewlett sat there for a reflective moment. He was a self assured man, disciplined, correct. He brought a high level of intensity into all of his activities. He enjoys the game and he likes to win. He was used to winning. He was a star athlete at Annapolis, a decorated naval officer in the war and Korea. He resigned his commission in 1955 and threw himself into his family's businesses, oil, gas, chemicals, and later, nuclear energy. The family company, HEWCO, was now a world wide conglomerate whose subsidiaries had subsidiaries. Paul had for some time been the firebrand in the company and had held the chairmanship for twenty years.
Paul sat down at the large oaken desk and opened his laptop computer and flipped on the switch. His computer was a limited edition designed to accommodate high security protection against hackers, viruses and eaves dropping. He inserted a special safe-secure program. A DOD security clearance is necessary to possess or use these programs. This system supposedly offers bug proof communications and transmissions systems.
He punched in some ID numbers and immediately raised a screen prompt that flashed "Warning" on the screen. The screen then displayed this message. "Use of this program without proper authorization is a felony. Enter proper entrance code sequence within 15 seconds or alarm signals will activate in F.B.I. and D.O.D. computer banks."
Paul entered the correct sequence.
The screen then displayed "Enter code words."
He typed the words "Waste Not, Want Not."
The screen responded "Access granted. Have a nice day."
He then keyed the transmission sending program which put him direct contact with his private office computer. Only his private secretary, who has a high security clearance, has access to this computer. She also knows his computer codes, or some of his computer codes.
He typed "Green light on project. I'm going on vacation tomorrow. Unless something comes up I'll contact the office again sometime next week."
He transmitted the message and a reply came up on the screen. “Message received, have a good trip."
He got up and walked over to the window and looked out over Washington. His room gave a view of The Mall, full of hustling, bustling people seemingly oblivious to the many webs of intrigue and influence being spun over the city. He was satisfied things were going well. He liked how it felt.
“Ring! Ring!”
The telephone began to ring in this luxury bedroom suite in the Reagan Arms International Hotel, Washington.
Emerging from the bathroom quickly, and wiping his face with a towel, a trim man, fit for his mid seventies, wearing a silk brocade bath robe with his monogram embroidered over his chest, tripped over the Persian footstool as he hurried to answer the phone.
"Damn!" he cursed, and kicked the offending furniture out of his way as he hurriedly rushed toward the phone.
Suddenly the door from the adjoining room was flung ajar and in rushed a large, athletic man, causally dressed but clutching the handle of his automatic pistol still in its exposed shoulder holster.
"Is everything OK Mr. Hewlett? I heard the racket in here." "Fine Conrad. Leave me alone right now, I think this is the important phone call I have been expecting."
"Yes sir." Said Conrad as he backed out the door.
He picked up the phone and said "Yes?"
A soft female voice with a strong Texas accent asked "Is this Mr. Paul Hewlett? It is? Wonderful. I'm Senator Grimm’s secretary, please go ahead Senator."
"Hello Paul." Said the voice on the other end of the phone. "How in the world are you doing?"
The Senator continued. "Happy New Year by the way, I’m a little bit late. It's always good to hear from you. Listen Paul, I'm calling about that matter we discussed. The timing could not be better. Since the President elect’s victory in the election has been confirmed I think we will be able to move ahead on that project. Of course the President elect knows nothing about this but I have it
on solid background that we will have some of our people well placed in the new administration. This little program of yours might slip through totally unnoticed."
Paul asked "How about EPA clearance?"
'That's no problem for now." The senator replied. "The EPA director designate will be someone on our side. Of course this is a 'black project' and no one in EPA knows what this is really about. Once you have your clearance it is likely no one will ever look into it. In any case I would suggest you get your groundwork started as soon as possible. I still believe in the project and I believe that it is important for national security."
"Good. That's good." Said Paul. "Your help in this matter is really appreciated Bill. And give the President my congratulations. I've known him since he was a boy, you know. His dad and I go way back. And, as always, you can count on my support when you're up for re-election I am sure we can put together some successful fund raisers."
Paul continued. "I'm going down to Texas tomorrow. I'll be going out to that property we purchased and I'll be looking it over and checking into the local details. I'll officially be on vacation and I'm just going out in the boonies. We're keeping a tight lid on this thing. I'll call you if I have any big problems but it looks like everything is all set up for the moment. Thanks again."
"Glad to be of help Paul, 'bye now." Responded the senator as he hung up.
Paul Hewlett sat there for a reflective moment. He was a self assured man, disciplined, correct. He brought a high level of intensity into all of his activities. He enjoys the game and he likes to win. He was used to winning. He was a star athlete at Annapolis, a decorated naval officer in the war and Korea. He resigned his commission in 1955 and threw himself into his family's businesses, oil, gas, chemicals, and later, nuclear energy. The family company, HEWCO, was now a world wide conglomerate whose subsidiaries had subsidiaries. Paul had for some time been the firebrand in the company and had held the chairmanship for twenty years.
Paul sat down at the large oaken desk and opened his laptop computer and flipped on the switch. His computer was a limited edition designed to accommodate high security protection against hackers, viruses and eaves dropping. He inserted a special safe-secure program. A DOD security clearance is necessary to possess or use these programs. This system supposedly offers bug proof communications and transmissions systems.
He punched in some ID numbers and immediately raised a screen prompt that flashed "Warning" on the screen. The screen then displayed this message. "Use of this program without proper authorization is a felony. Enter proper entrance code sequence within 15 seconds or alarm signals will activate in F.B.I. and D.O.D. computer banks."
Paul entered the correct sequence.
The screen then displayed "Enter code words."
He typed the words "Waste Not, Want Not."
The screen responded "Access granted. Have a nice day."
He then keyed the transmission sending program which put him direct contact with his private office computer. Only his private secretary, who has a high security clearance, has access to this computer. She also knows his computer codes, or some of his computer codes.
He typed "Green light on project. I'm going on vacation tomorrow. Unless something comes up I'll contact the office again sometime next week."
He transmitted the message and a reply came up on the screen. “Message received, have a good trip."
He got up and walked over to the window and looked out over Washington. His room gave a view of The Mall, full of hustling, bustling people seemingly oblivious to the many webs of intrigue and influence being spun over the city. He was satisfied things were going well. He liked how it felt.
WNWNchapII
“Conrad!” shouted Paul. Conrad entered. Tall, muscular, Conrad was well in his middle age years with graying hair, cut military style. Conrad was a SEAL in his two hitches in ‘Nam. He was awarded the Navy Cross there. Conrad had worked his way to the top of Diamondback Security. Diamondback was Paul’s military wing. Diamondback was a hired gun, primarily escorting and protecting high risk targets, securing sensitive sites and just about any kind of activity requiring armed, well trained military specialists.
Now he was Paul’s bodyguard, right hand man, confidant, friend. Paul realized that he sometimes transferred his paternal feelings onto Conrad. For his part Conrad felt extreme loyalty to Paul. Paul had given Conrad an opportunity to rebuild a life nearly wrecked by divorces, bankruptcy, alcohol. Conrad liked his job.
“Conrad, I’m going to go down to Texas tomorrow. I’ll travel by myself. I’ve booked a flight under an assumed name. I want you to come down two days behind me and get a room in Kingsville. Just sit tight and I’ll call you on your cell phone when I am ready or if I need you.”
“Got it.” said Conrad. “I’ve got everything we might need taken care of and I’ll be ready.”
“Good,” said Paul. “I know I can always count on you.”
The next day he flew to Houston, after a three hour layover, switched planes and flew into Corpus Christi. His flight had not been full and it took him no time to find his single bag in the luggage. He had carried his lap top with him on the plane in an attache case.
Paul looked the part of a professional business man but he was not ostentatious. His suits were refined but modest. He wore dark glasses. No one really paid much attention to him when he
WNWN chap 1 pg 2
traveled and rarely did anyone recognize him. That was how he liked it.
At the car rental he picked up the keys to a 4WD Blazer and
asked the clerk for a few directions. They brought the truck around and off he went.
Paul did not go into Corpus Christi. Instead he followed the
directions on a map he carried. He took back roads to Kingsville where he hit 77 and turned south. Paul knew this area. His family had been doing business in Texas for nearly seventy years, and hell, he had been there for over half of it! He had been all over this state. His company still had interests here but not as much as it once did.
He was not going to any of those businesses however, something new was being developed.
Paul was “officially” on vacation, going hunting out in the wilds. To all appearances he was going to spend some time on a new property he had recently purchased. He intended to do some hunting and relaxing but that was not his sole purpose.
In Kingsville he drove to a storage rental and backed up to a shed. He opened the door and inside was a U Haul trailer which he hooked up quickly and then pulled back out onto the road. He stopped for a quick lunch at a diner and then drove out of town, still headed south.
Basically the land here was flat. Sometimes there would be a gentle rise or a slight swell to the contour of the land, but mostly it was flat. He passed acres of farmland, now under the plow and being readied for next year’s planting. Cotton and sorghum were the biggest crops here. Interspersed among the farmlands were great areas of grazing lands covered with stocky cattle.
There was yet another aspect of the local economy readily in
WNWN chap I pg 3
evidence. Oil and gas wells were scattered, seemingly at random, throughout much of the countryside. Occasionally he saw some
sort of service rig at a well head and he passed a drilling rig eagerly digging down into the ground. “The energy industry isn’t entirely dead here,” he thought. It was definitely making a comeback with the present higher prices for gas and oil.
Paul liked it down here. There was lots of room, it was an uncomplicated place. To him the mesquite tree symbolized this
part of the country. It was tough, gnarled, but no matter what man or the seasons did it always thrived. Many large sections of the land remained uncleared. These areas were often kept in their natural state to be used as deer leases. On these sites mesquite was thick, and here and there large stands of prickly pear cactus were sprinkled amidst the dry grass. Where such natural cover existed wildlife was abundant. White tail deer, turkey, javelina, a very peculiar looking wild pig with a poor disposition, and diamond back rattlesnakes were a few of the many creatures that made their home in the bush.
He had turned off of highway 77 many miles back and now following a map which showed him the route to follow to the new property. These back roads were narrow but good. He met little traffic. He made another turn and noted on his map that he was to drive eight more miles ‘till he reached the gate of the property. He was definitely out in the boonies.
The sun was going down with a brilliant display of red light reflecting from the clouds. “Red sky at night, sailor’s delight,” Paul said to himself.
Soon he reached the gate he was seeking. Steel letters perched on a steel arch over the gate read “El Rancho De La Rosa.“ It was a typical affair for these parts, made of welded steel pipe with a thick pipe housing covering the lock to prevent any tampering. He pulled to a
WNWN chap I pg 4
stop well back from the gate and got out of the Blazer. He stepped
over the cattle guard, which is a ditch with a framework of pipes laid over it, and unlocked the gate and swung it open. He then drove through the gate, got back out of the truck and closed the gate, locking it.
Now he was on his new property. The place was vast. As he drove in over the rough dirt road, down here this road surface was called “caliche,” no man made structure, not even another fence, was in sight. The land was once largely pasture but it was beginning to be reclaimed by brush and mesquite.
Now he was Paul’s bodyguard, right hand man, confidant, friend. Paul realized that he sometimes transferred his paternal feelings onto Conrad. For his part Conrad felt extreme loyalty to Paul. Paul had given Conrad an opportunity to rebuild a life nearly wrecked by divorces, bankruptcy, alcohol. Conrad liked his job.
“Conrad, I’m going to go down to Texas tomorrow. I’ll travel by myself. I’ve booked a flight under an assumed name. I want you to come down two days behind me and get a room in Kingsville. Just sit tight and I’ll call you on your cell phone when I am ready or if I need you.”
“Got it.” said Conrad. “I’ve got everything we might need taken care of and I’ll be ready.”
“Good,” said Paul. “I know I can always count on you.”
The next day he flew to Houston, after a three hour layover, switched planes and flew into Corpus Christi. His flight had not been full and it took him no time to find his single bag in the luggage. He had carried his lap top with him on the plane in an attache case.
Paul looked the part of a professional business man but he was not ostentatious. His suits were refined but modest. He wore dark glasses. No one really paid much attention to him when he
WNWN chap 1 pg 2
traveled and rarely did anyone recognize him. That was how he liked it.
At the car rental he picked up the keys to a 4WD Blazer and
asked the clerk for a few directions. They brought the truck around and off he went.
Paul did not go into Corpus Christi. Instead he followed the
directions on a map he carried. He took back roads to Kingsville where he hit 77 and turned south. Paul knew this area. His family had been doing business in Texas for nearly seventy years, and hell, he had been there for over half of it! He had been all over this state. His company still had interests here but not as much as it once did.
He was not going to any of those businesses however, something new was being developed.
Paul was “officially” on vacation, going hunting out in the wilds. To all appearances he was going to spend some time on a new property he had recently purchased. He intended to do some hunting and relaxing but that was not his sole purpose.
In Kingsville he drove to a storage rental and backed up to a shed. He opened the door and inside was a U Haul trailer which he hooked up quickly and then pulled back out onto the road. He stopped for a quick lunch at a diner and then drove out of town, still headed south.
Basically the land here was flat. Sometimes there would be a gentle rise or a slight swell to the contour of the land, but mostly it was flat. He passed acres of farmland, now under the plow and being readied for next year’s planting. Cotton and sorghum were the biggest crops here. Interspersed among the farmlands were great areas of grazing lands covered with stocky cattle.
There was yet another aspect of the local economy readily in
WNWN chap I pg 3
evidence. Oil and gas wells were scattered, seemingly at random, throughout much of the countryside. Occasionally he saw some
sort of service rig at a well head and he passed a drilling rig eagerly digging down into the ground. “The energy industry isn’t entirely dead here,” he thought. It was definitely making a comeback with the present higher prices for gas and oil.
Paul liked it down here. There was lots of room, it was an uncomplicated place. To him the mesquite tree symbolized this
part of the country. It was tough, gnarled, but no matter what man or the seasons did it always thrived. Many large sections of the land remained uncleared. These areas were often kept in their natural state to be used as deer leases. On these sites mesquite was thick, and here and there large stands of prickly pear cactus were sprinkled amidst the dry grass. Where such natural cover existed wildlife was abundant. White tail deer, turkey, javelina, a very peculiar looking wild pig with a poor disposition, and diamond back rattlesnakes were a few of the many creatures that made their home in the bush.
He had turned off of highway 77 many miles back and now following a map which showed him the route to follow to the new property. These back roads were narrow but good. He met little traffic. He made another turn and noted on his map that he was to drive eight more miles ‘till he reached the gate of the property. He was definitely out in the boonies.
The sun was going down with a brilliant display of red light reflecting from the clouds. “Red sky at night, sailor’s delight,” Paul said to himself.
Soon he reached the gate he was seeking. Steel letters perched on a steel arch over the gate read “El Rancho De La Rosa.“ It was a typical affair for these parts, made of welded steel pipe with a thick pipe housing covering the lock to prevent any tampering. He pulled to a
WNWN chap I pg 4
stop well back from the gate and got out of the Blazer. He stepped
over the cattle guard, which is a ditch with a framework of pipes laid over it, and unlocked the gate and swung it open. He then drove through the gate, got back out of the truck and closed the gate, locking it.
Now he was on his new property. The place was vast. As he drove in over the rough dirt road, down here this road surface was called “caliche,” no man made structure, not even another fence, was in sight. The land was once largely pasture but it was beginning to be reclaimed by brush and mesquite.
Waste Not, Want Not, Chapter III
According to the map he was to drive for nine miles till he came to the ranch house, which had been remodeled and restored to tip top condition.
As he topped a rise a number of ram shackle houses came into view. Several had smoke curling slowly skyward from their chimneys. No people were in sight but a faint light flickered within each building. They looked well lived in. In the fading sunlight he could make out the outline of two large gardens, each lush with various kinds of crops.
A little further down the road he came by a barn and he could see horses. And he saw cattle here and there as he continued. That wasn’t all. There were fields that had been harvested in recent weeks, some of cotton and of some sorghum, he guessed by the detritus left on scene.
“Squatters!” he uttered to himself. “This surely complicates matters.”
The road wound its way through some large patches of brush and followed a creek bed. The shacks were soon out of sight. Before long he came to the ranch house.
It was a fairly large house, unassuming from the outside. There was a night light on over the porch which was partly enclosed and screened in and ran all the way around the house. The one story structure was raised from the ground on four foot piers and the skirt around the bottom was covered over with wood siding matching the wall exterior. Paul pulled to a stop and went into his new house for the first time.
He was excited and anxious to see the interior. He turned on the light and was pleased with what he saw. The living room was
WNWN chap III pg 2
large and spacious with high ceilings. The floor was hardwood with a few throw rugs from exotic locales. The walls were adorned with a few of Paul’s many hunting trophies, the head of a lion, shot in Kenya, a jaguar taken in Brazil, an elk from Alaska and others. The wall siding looked like the interior of a log cabin. It was actually 2x6’s which milled down to a half round shape and then installed. There was a large stone fireplace, a big screen TV (of course there was dish outside.) The kitchen adjoined the living room and was well appointed with modern appliances. There were three bedrooms and two baths. All in all, a very comfortable country home.
It wasn’t late so Paul decided to fix something to eat and relax for a while. He was troubled by the people obviously living on the land. “Who the hell are they?” he wondered. “I’ll get to the bottom of it.”
He opened the refrigerator and peered in. Everything he had specified was in there, orange juice, milk, vegetables,, dark Heineken, fruit, plain yogurt and others of his favorite foods. He looked in the pantry and found it well stocked, as was the liquor cabinet. He selected an entree from his stockpile of frozen dinners and popped it into the microwave. From the liquor cabinet he took a bottle of Tanqueray gin and a bottle of Schweppes tonic water and mixed himself a strong drink with a twist of lime.
After he had eaten he sat down in the plush recliner and had another drink and just took it easy. He wanted to get a feel for the place. Though it would soon be Thanksgiving the weather wasn’t cold at all. He had opened several windows and felt a soft, cool breeze blowing in from the south east. He didn’t turn on the TV or the stereo, he just wanted to listen to the silence.
Through the windows he could see the dark shadows cast by
WNWN Chap III Pg 3
the many oak and mesquite trees and he listened to the soft sighs as the wind rustled through the branches and stirred the tall grass. The moon was now high in the night sky and sometimes broke through the scattered cloud cover which streamed by at an amazing rate. This alternative silver light and darkness cast an unearthly aspect on the fantastic shapes created by the twisted branches and clumps of leaves.
His mood turned somber as he sat there watching the night sky. He thought about the fact that his family wouldn’t even know where he was. “They really don’t care anyway,” he thought.
He and his wife were long divorced. She had been well taken care of in their divorce settlement, had been re-married and then widowed. She was now quite well off.
His daughter was somewhere in Washington state, living with a worthless boyfriend and a bunch of old hippies. They had been estranged for a longtime but she still received an annual payment from her substantial trust fund. “No, they probably won’t think about me at all,” he thought.
Now his son and he had been close but he was gone too. He had followed in his father’s footsteps and graduated from Annapolis and gone into the Navy as a gunnery officer. “Paul Jr. What a good looking man he had been!” But he was gone, killed in Vietnam on board the cruiser Newport News when it suffered a massive explosion in one of its gun turrets. “That useless goddamn war!” he cursed. Soon he regained his self control. He had already grieved enough for his son and it was long in the past.
Paul didn’t allow himself to feel self pity or maudlin sentimentality for long. He didn’t get where he was by being weak.
WNWN chap III pg 4
There was no place in his life for anything but self reliance. He scorned religion and practiced a form of social and economic Darwinism in his private and business life. Though he certainly did not think much of far eastern spirituality he did have his own form of meditation, something he had arrived at on his own however, not from any study or TM sessions.
Paul practiced this now as he sat in his easy chair. He harnessed his iron will and shut off his mind, his internal dialogue with himself. He had found that when he did this it put his mind at rest and he opened himself to the world as it existed for him. It helped him to absorb his surroundings, to feel what might be confronting him. He would remain in this state until he either fell asleep or roused himself for some purpose.
So tonight Paul went into his meditative state, he wouldn’t describe it as a trance, and took in his surroundings. Soon he found that he just couldn’t maintain it. “What’s wrong tonight?” he wondered. He felt nervous and apprehensive. “Must be those squatters that is bothering me.” He decided to have a nightcap and take a walk outside. Out on the porch he breathed in the moist night air and stepped into the yard and walked out into the dark.
As he topped a rise a number of ram shackle houses came into view. Several had smoke curling slowly skyward from their chimneys. No people were in sight but a faint light flickered within each building. They looked well lived in. In the fading sunlight he could make out the outline of two large gardens, each lush with various kinds of crops.
A little further down the road he came by a barn and he could see horses. And he saw cattle here and there as he continued. That wasn’t all. There were fields that had been harvested in recent weeks, some of cotton and of some sorghum, he guessed by the detritus left on scene.
“Squatters!” he uttered to himself. “This surely complicates matters.”
The road wound its way through some large patches of brush and followed a creek bed. The shacks were soon out of sight. Before long he came to the ranch house.
It was a fairly large house, unassuming from the outside. There was a night light on over the porch which was partly enclosed and screened in and ran all the way around the house. The one story structure was raised from the ground on four foot piers and the skirt around the bottom was covered over with wood siding matching the wall exterior. Paul pulled to a stop and went into his new house for the first time.
He was excited and anxious to see the interior. He turned on the light and was pleased with what he saw. The living room was
WNWN chap III pg 2
large and spacious with high ceilings. The floor was hardwood with a few throw rugs from exotic locales. The walls were adorned with a few of Paul’s many hunting trophies, the head of a lion, shot in Kenya, a jaguar taken in Brazil, an elk from Alaska and others. The wall siding looked like the interior of a log cabin. It was actually 2x6’s which milled down to a half round shape and then installed. There was a large stone fireplace, a big screen TV (of course there was dish outside.) The kitchen adjoined the living room and was well appointed with modern appliances. There were three bedrooms and two baths. All in all, a very comfortable country home.
It wasn’t late so Paul decided to fix something to eat and relax for a while. He was troubled by the people obviously living on the land. “Who the hell are they?” he wondered. “I’ll get to the bottom of it.”
He opened the refrigerator and peered in. Everything he had specified was in there, orange juice, milk, vegetables,, dark Heineken, fruit, plain yogurt and others of his favorite foods. He looked in the pantry and found it well stocked, as was the liquor cabinet. He selected an entree from his stockpile of frozen dinners and popped it into the microwave. From the liquor cabinet he took a bottle of Tanqueray gin and a bottle of Schweppes tonic water and mixed himself a strong drink with a twist of lime.
After he had eaten he sat down in the plush recliner and had another drink and just took it easy. He wanted to get a feel for the place. Though it would soon be Thanksgiving the weather wasn’t cold at all. He had opened several windows and felt a soft, cool breeze blowing in from the south east. He didn’t turn on the TV or the stereo, he just wanted to listen to the silence.
Through the windows he could see the dark shadows cast by
WNWN Chap III Pg 3
the many oak and mesquite trees and he listened to the soft sighs as the wind rustled through the branches and stirred the tall grass. The moon was now high in the night sky and sometimes broke through the scattered cloud cover which streamed by at an amazing rate. This alternative silver light and darkness cast an unearthly aspect on the fantastic shapes created by the twisted branches and clumps of leaves.
His mood turned somber as he sat there watching the night sky. He thought about the fact that his family wouldn’t even know where he was. “They really don’t care anyway,” he thought.
He and his wife were long divorced. She had been well taken care of in their divorce settlement, had been re-married and then widowed. She was now quite well off.
His daughter was somewhere in Washington state, living with a worthless boyfriend and a bunch of old hippies. They had been estranged for a longtime but she still received an annual payment from her substantial trust fund. “No, they probably won’t think about me at all,” he thought.
Now his son and he had been close but he was gone too. He had followed in his father’s footsteps and graduated from Annapolis and gone into the Navy as a gunnery officer. “Paul Jr. What a good looking man he had been!” But he was gone, killed in Vietnam on board the cruiser Newport News when it suffered a massive explosion in one of its gun turrets. “That useless goddamn war!” he cursed. Soon he regained his self control. He had already grieved enough for his son and it was long in the past.
Paul didn’t allow himself to feel self pity or maudlin sentimentality for long. He didn’t get where he was by being weak.
WNWN chap III pg 4
There was no place in his life for anything but self reliance. He scorned religion and practiced a form of social and economic Darwinism in his private and business life. Though he certainly did not think much of far eastern spirituality he did have his own form of meditation, something he had arrived at on his own however, not from any study or TM sessions.
Paul practiced this now as he sat in his easy chair. He harnessed his iron will and shut off his mind, his internal dialogue with himself. He had found that when he did this it put his mind at rest and he opened himself to the world as it existed for him. It helped him to absorb his surroundings, to feel what might be confronting him. He would remain in this state until he either fell asleep or roused himself for some purpose.
So tonight Paul went into his meditative state, he wouldn’t describe it as a trance, and took in his surroundings. Soon he found that he just couldn’t maintain it. “What’s wrong tonight?” he wondered. He felt nervous and apprehensive. “Must be those squatters that is bothering me.” He decided to have a nightcap and take a walk outside. Out on the porch he breathed in the moist night air and stepped into the yard and walked out into the dark.
Waste Not Want Not chapter IV
He didn’t go far, he didn’t really know his way around here yet. He stopped under the shadow of a huge, old oak and surveyed his surroundings. A chill shuddered through him. “It’s spooky out here in the dark,” he thought, only half in jest!
He stepped out into the moonlight which was for the moment not obscured by the fleeting clouds. Bathed in the silvery light he peered into the thick undergrowth amongst the trees and saw the gnarled, twisted branches reaching like demonic fingers grasping into the cool air.
Deep within the thicket he saw …what? Something? He looked intently. Did he see something, or just shadows?
“Anyone there?” he called into the dark. There was silence, disturbed only by the rustling wind.
He shook his head, reproaching himself. “Of course there’s nobody there,” he thought. “ I must be getting weak headed!”
He turned went back inside and sat down in his plush recliner which he had sent there for his pleasure.
“I need a night cap!” He went to the bar and mixed a drink. He made a stiff one and quickly tossed it down. He put his pajamas and went to bed.
Sleep came but it was not restful. He slept fitfully and after awhile, awakened. He lay there less than half awake, in a near dream-like state. Childhood fears, he hadn’t felt or remembered for years crept over him. It was as though he was a small boy again and afraid of the dark.
In those days his vivid imagination helped him to see fantastic demons and monsters and huge hairy creatures that slowly crept towards his window on dark, stormy nights. He felt they were real then and they were there, waiting for him in the dark waiting for him to come outside or trying to get in and tear him to pieces! Those nights were spent in terror until he finally fell into an exhausted sleep.
WNWN chap IV page 2
Now such fear seemed to grip him again. He could not rouse his rational mind. Paul felt embarrassed. He certainly had never lacked for courage. He saw combat in two wars, he had hinted dangerous game on many continents and had guided his companies very successfully through the cut-throat corporate world and had held his dealing with U.S. and foreign governments in very competitive and sometimes hostile business and political environments.
Instead he remained in this unreal stupor and felt his fears running away with his psyche. Again he felt that dull terror and forced himself to look outside, through the bedroom window.
Again he saw something! It was terrifying, un-named, without definite form but he feared it was really there! He felt as though he was a small boy again peering fearfully into the darkness. He feared that it waited for him to make a mistake or show weakness. It waited, eager to spill his guts! To lick his blood!
Fear paralyzed him. Unable to move, he thought, as he had done in his childhood, that he must remain motionless, then the monster wouldn’t know he was there at all. And, as in his childhood, he shut his eyes tightly, not wanting to see. He began to sweat, a cold, clammy perspiration that beaded allover his body, especially in the small of his back. Fear tingled up and down his spine.
With his eyes tightly shut he began to hear the beast. He could hear it rustle through the dry, dead leaves and grass. He could hear it coming closer, closer, dragging it’s bulk nearer and nearer to the house. And with it came a stench! An overwhelming smell, worse than a polecat, filled his nostrils. His heart was beating so hard he was sure the creature must hear it. It must know he was here, cowering beneath the sheets.
“There!” He heard a thump on the porch. Again he heard it as it came nearer.
WNWN chap IV, pg 3
It was standing now on the porch, he thought, right by the door which was open leaving only the flimsy screen door to protect him! He had left the door open to let the breeze filter in.
“Oh what a mistake that had been,” he thought.
He could hear it breathing as it’s foul breath came in measured gasps. Then what? “It’s scratching the screen door!” How long would that hold him outside?
He could bear it no more. He was now fully awake, all reason gone and fully in the grip of the nightmare. He sat up quickly, bolt upright in his bed. He was ready to face it come what may. He rose silently from the bed and slipped thought the darkened room over the floor to the door and looked out. He saw nothing. He still didn’t have his wits about him but it seemed that nothing was there.
“A nightmare?” It seemed so real. He walked outside onto the porch. The moon was gone now and all seemed quiet. Nothing there, no sign of anything. “Whew! Nothing there!” he thought.
“Of course there was nothing there,” he thought. “You are a grown man with most of your life and career behind you and you are behaving like a small boy!”
He was ashamed of himself. With this he returned to his bed and fell fast asleep.
He was awakened by the first full light of the morning. Only an uncomfortable, vague memory of the night lingered. He really couldn’t remember exactly what had happened in the night, only that he had had dreams and felt really rotten this morning. He was in a bad mood.
He stepped out into the moonlight which was for the moment not obscured by the fleeting clouds. Bathed in the silvery light he peered into the thick undergrowth amongst the trees and saw the gnarled, twisted branches reaching like demonic fingers grasping into the cool air.
Deep within the thicket he saw …what? Something? He looked intently. Did he see something, or just shadows?
“Anyone there?” he called into the dark. There was silence, disturbed only by the rustling wind.
He shook his head, reproaching himself. “Of course there’s nobody there,” he thought. “ I must be getting weak headed!”
He turned went back inside and sat down in his plush recliner which he had sent there for his pleasure.
“I need a night cap!” He went to the bar and mixed a drink. He made a stiff one and quickly tossed it down. He put his pajamas and went to bed.
Sleep came but it was not restful. He slept fitfully and after awhile, awakened. He lay there less than half awake, in a near dream-like state. Childhood fears, he hadn’t felt or remembered for years crept over him. It was as though he was a small boy again and afraid of the dark.
In those days his vivid imagination helped him to see fantastic demons and monsters and huge hairy creatures that slowly crept towards his window on dark, stormy nights. He felt they were real then and they were there, waiting for him in the dark waiting for him to come outside or trying to get in and tear him to pieces! Those nights were spent in terror until he finally fell into an exhausted sleep.
WNWN chap IV page 2
Now such fear seemed to grip him again. He could not rouse his rational mind. Paul felt embarrassed. He certainly had never lacked for courage. He saw combat in two wars, he had hinted dangerous game on many continents and had guided his companies very successfully through the cut-throat corporate world and had held his dealing with U.S. and foreign governments in very competitive and sometimes hostile business and political environments.
Instead he remained in this unreal stupor and felt his fears running away with his psyche. Again he felt that dull terror and forced himself to look outside, through the bedroom window.
Again he saw something! It was terrifying, un-named, without definite form but he feared it was really there! He felt as though he was a small boy again peering fearfully into the darkness. He feared that it waited for him to make a mistake or show weakness. It waited, eager to spill his guts! To lick his blood!
Fear paralyzed him. Unable to move, he thought, as he had done in his childhood, that he must remain motionless, then the monster wouldn’t know he was there at all. And, as in his childhood, he shut his eyes tightly, not wanting to see. He began to sweat, a cold, clammy perspiration that beaded allover his body, especially in the small of his back. Fear tingled up and down his spine.
With his eyes tightly shut he began to hear the beast. He could hear it rustle through the dry, dead leaves and grass. He could hear it coming closer, closer, dragging it’s bulk nearer and nearer to the house. And with it came a stench! An overwhelming smell, worse than a polecat, filled his nostrils. His heart was beating so hard he was sure the creature must hear it. It must know he was here, cowering beneath the sheets.
“There!” He heard a thump on the porch. Again he heard it as it came nearer.
WNWN chap IV, pg 3
It was standing now on the porch, he thought, right by the door which was open leaving only the flimsy screen door to protect him! He had left the door open to let the breeze filter in.
“Oh what a mistake that had been,” he thought.
He could hear it breathing as it’s foul breath came in measured gasps. Then what? “It’s scratching the screen door!” How long would that hold him outside?
He could bear it no more. He was now fully awake, all reason gone and fully in the grip of the nightmare. He sat up quickly, bolt upright in his bed. He was ready to face it come what may. He rose silently from the bed and slipped thought the darkened room over the floor to the door and looked out. He saw nothing. He still didn’t have his wits about him but it seemed that nothing was there.
“A nightmare?” It seemed so real. He walked outside onto the porch. The moon was gone now and all seemed quiet. Nothing there, no sign of anything. “Whew! Nothing there!” he thought.
“Of course there was nothing there,” he thought. “You are a grown man with most of your life and career behind you and you are behaving like a small boy!”
He was ashamed of himself. With this he returned to his bed and fell fast asleep.
He was awakened by the first full light of the morning. Only an uncomfortable, vague memory of the night lingered. He really couldn’t remember exactly what had happened in the night, only that he had had dreams and felt really rotten this morning. He was in a bad mood.
WNWN chapter V
As he prepared for the day he thought over what he should do. First on his list was to go and see who the people were living in the houses on the property and see what the situation was with them.
He was not in a hurry and he found himself there around nine in the morning.
There were five houses. All could be considered shacks by the people in any neighborhood Paul had ever resided in during his lifetime. They were small, simple and constructed from a wide variety of building materials. Most had tin corrugated roofs, one had a shingled roof. There were two old vehicles, one was pickup, rusting and incomplete as they perched wheeless on cinder blocks.
There were chicken coops behind three of the houses and several dogs looked suspiciously at Paul while keeping their distance and barking. No people were in evidence.
There was a medium sized barn, very weathered but functional and a small corral. A large vegetable garden was a short distance away from the buildings.
Paul stopped at the first house. He knocked on the door which opened slowly and revealed a small, elderly woman before him.
He introduced himself. “My name is Paul Hewlett. I am the owner of this property. Can you tell me something about yourself and the people who live here?”
Her eyes widened and she said “No hablo Ingles senor.”
Paul spoke Spanish fairly well, “Como esta? Me llamo Paul Hewlett. Soy el patron de este propidad. Como se llama usted senora?”
She spoke slowly and economically and told him that her name was maria Rosales and she lived her along with three other families and an old man. She told him that she had lived here more than forty years since she moved her with her husband and small child. “My husband, may he rest with God, then worked for the old patron when the place was a great rancho with many cattle and many vaqueros.”
WNWN Chap. V pg 2.
“Who was the old patron?” asked Paul. “Please tell me what you can about him and why you people are here.”
She invited him into her humble home. It was Spartan, clean and comfortable. A faded picture of JFK hung on the wall alongside a wooden crucifix.
She offered him coffee which he gladly accepted. She began telling him her story, warming to him somewhat and no longer exhibiting her earlier suspicion.
“The old patron was named Serafio De La Rosa. His great great grandfather had obtained one of the original Spanish land grants when this land was extremely sparse in population and no permanent Indian or European settlement existed between San Antonio and Matamoros. He fought Apaches, Comanches. He joined up with the Americanos against Santa Anna and was able to keep his land.”
“My husband Manuel had been a top cowboy and spent his life working with cattle.”
She said when the old patron died his eldest son Fito took over. Fito was a bad man. He was a drunkard and beat his wife and abused his children. He cared nothing for the ranch. He treated his hands badly. He had learned nothing about business. Soon he gambled away much of his inheritance. His wife and family left him and much of his hired help had quit. He had a bad temper and often got in fights.
Things had become very bad on the rancho. Many cattle had become sick and died. The wages had been cut and rarely were paid on time or in full. Maria and the other women grew most of their food in their jardines but it was hard to pick up the spirits of the men who endured the constant abuse that Fito sent their way.
Maria had been a very pretty woman when she was young and once Manuel had struck Fito when he had made an insulting and offensive remark about Maria. Before that Fito had many times
WNWN chap V pg. 3
been seen leering at her. Manuel was ready to quit but Fito had apologized and Maria had said she wanted to stay.
One day when the men were working in the pastures Fito came to Maria’s house. He was drunk and was not wearing his shirt. Maria tried to tell him to leave but he forced his way in. His breath smelled of mescal and he grabbed her, tearing her clothes and throwing her on the bed. She screamed but he laughed as he assaulted her. She resisted but he struck her and threatened her child so she sobbingly submitted. When he left he threw down a few coins and called her a whore.
A woman from one of the neighboring houses had seen Fito enter the house and had heard the commotion. She came over as soon as Fito had gone and tried to comfort the distraught Maria. When her daughter returned from school another neighbor took her into her home and fixed her dinner and told her her mother was ill.
Manuel’s return was not well handled. When he found out what had happened he fell into a rage. None could restrain him and took his rifle and went to the ranch house where Fito lived. Fito saw him coming and locked the heavy oak door.
Manuel screamed at him, exhorting him to come out and face him like a man. When Fito would not he unleashed a stream of screaming curses and threatened to burn down the house.
Finally, the front door opened, slowly and Fito called out to Manuel and told him to come in and get him. Manuel immediately rushed up on the porch steps without caution and was met full on in the front by a shotgun blast which killed him instantly and drove his disfigured body backwards, out into the yard.
The other men had followed Manuel but they were still some distance down the road when they heard the blast. Being unarmed they were afraid to go near the ranch house. There was some confusion about what they should do. Finally Juan decided to take
WNWN chap V pg 4
the ranch truck and go into Las Vacas and find a telephone to call the Sheriff’s Department. Everyone else locked themselves into their homes.
It was eighteen miles each way to Las Vacas but after a seeming eternity Juan returned. He was followed by two cars from the Sheriff’s Department. The Sheriff’s cars went to the ranch house and there they found Fito, now dressed and considerably sobered up. Fito greeted them in front of his house. Manuel’s body still lay there where he had fallen.
He was not in a hurry and he found himself there around nine in the morning.
There were five houses. All could be considered shacks by the people in any neighborhood Paul had ever resided in during his lifetime. They were small, simple and constructed from a wide variety of building materials. Most had tin corrugated roofs, one had a shingled roof. There were two old vehicles, one was pickup, rusting and incomplete as they perched wheeless on cinder blocks.
There were chicken coops behind three of the houses and several dogs looked suspiciously at Paul while keeping their distance and barking. No people were in evidence.
There was a medium sized barn, very weathered but functional and a small corral. A large vegetable garden was a short distance away from the buildings.
Paul stopped at the first house. He knocked on the door which opened slowly and revealed a small, elderly woman before him.
He introduced himself. “My name is Paul Hewlett. I am the owner of this property. Can you tell me something about yourself and the people who live here?”
Her eyes widened and she said “No hablo Ingles senor.”
Paul spoke Spanish fairly well, “Como esta? Me llamo Paul Hewlett. Soy el patron de este propidad. Como se llama usted senora?”
She spoke slowly and economically and told him that her name was maria Rosales and she lived her along with three other families and an old man. She told him that she had lived here more than forty years since she moved her with her husband and small child. “My husband, may he rest with God, then worked for the old patron when the place was a great rancho with many cattle and many vaqueros.”
WNWN Chap. V pg 2.
“Who was the old patron?” asked Paul. “Please tell me what you can about him and why you people are here.”
She invited him into her humble home. It was Spartan, clean and comfortable. A faded picture of JFK hung on the wall alongside a wooden crucifix.
She offered him coffee which he gladly accepted. She began telling him her story, warming to him somewhat and no longer exhibiting her earlier suspicion.
“The old patron was named Serafio De La Rosa. His great great grandfather had obtained one of the original Spanish land grants when this land was extremely sparse in population and no permanent Indian or European settlement existed between San Antonio and Matamoros. He fought Apaches, Comanches. He joined up with the Americanos against Santa Anna and was able to keep his land.”
“My husband Manuel had been a top cowboy and spent his life working with cattle.”
She said when the old patron died his eldest son Fito took over. Fito was a bad man. He was a drunkard and beat his wife and abused his children. He cared nothing for the ranch. He treated his hands badly. He had learned nothing about business. Soon he gambled away much of his inheritance. His wife and family left him and much of his hired help had quit. He had a bad temper and often got in fights.
Things had become very bad on the rancho. Many cattle had become sick and died. The wages had been cut and rarely were paid on time or in full. Maria and the other women grew most of their food in their jardines but it was hard to pick up the spirits of the men who endured the constant abuse that Fito sent their way.
Maria had been a very pretty woman when she was young and once Manuel had struck Fito when he had made an insulting and offensive remark about Maria. Before that Fito had many times
WNWN chap V pg. 3
been seen leering at her. Manuel was ready to quit but Fito had apologized and Maria had said she wanted to stay.
One day when the men were working in the pastures Fito came to Maria’s house. He was drunk and was not wearing his shirt. Maria tried to tell him to leave but he forced his way in. His breath smelled of mescal and he grabbed her, tearing her clothes and throwing her on the bed. She screamed but he laughed as he assaulted her. She resisted but he struck her and threatened her child so she sobbingly submitted. When he left he threw down a few coins and called her a whore.
A woman from one of the neighboring houses had seen Fito enter the house and had heard the commotion. She came over as soon as Fito had gone and tried to comfort the distraught Maria. When her daughter returned from school another neighbor took her into her home and fixed her dinner and told her her mother was ill.
Manuel’s return was not well handled. When he found out what had happened he fell into a rage. None could restrain him and took his rifle and went to the ranch house where Fito lived. Fito saw him coming and locked the heavy oak door.
Manuel screamed at him, exhorting him to come out and face him like a man. When Fito would not he unleashed a stream of screaming curses and threatened to burn down the house.
Finally, the front door opened, slowly and Fito called out to Manuel and told him to come in and get him. Manuel immediately rushed up on the porch steps without caution and was met full on in the front by a shotgun blast which killed him instantly and drove his disfigured body backwards, out into the yard.
The other men had followed Manuel but they were still some distance down the road when they heard the blast. Being unarmed they were afraid to go near the ranch house. There was some confusion about what they should do. Finally Juan decided to take
WNWN chap V pg 4
the ranch truck and go into Las Vacas and find a telephone to call the Sheriff’s Department. Everyone else locked themselves into their homes.
It was eighteen miles each way to Las Vacas but after a seeming eternity Juan returned. He was followed by two cars from the Sheriff’s Department. The Sheriff’s cars went to the ranch house and there they found Fito, now dressed and considerably sobered up. Fito greeted them in front of his house. Manuel’s body still lay there where he had fallen.
Waste Not, Want Not Chapter VI
Sheriff Jim Brooke, they called him “Big Jim,” asked Fito why happened. Fito said that he had shot Manuel in self defense, the gun Manuel had threatened him with was there beside him on the ground.
The sheriff asked Fito why Manuel would want to shoot him. Fito replied that Manuel was jealous because his wife, Maria, had made advances toward him. Fito denied ever having anything to do with Maria and that his rejection had made her vindictive and driven her to make false accusations which had driven Manuel to such a thing.
The sheriff left some deputies to have a look around and further interrogate Fito and he and two others went to Maria and Manuel’s house. Maria was hysterical and could not talk to him.
The small group of lawmen went to another house and talked to the people there. The sheriff didn’t speak Spanish but a deputy did and was able to translate everyone’s testimony.
After hearing everyone speak the sheriff said there was nothing he could do at this moment. He said the case would be referred to a grand jury but he was not willing to file charges in what looked to him as a clear case of self defense.
Fito was not arrested and the sheriff and his deputies left the ranch after an ambulance carried away the body of Manuel.
That night a pall hung over the homes where the ranch hands and their families lived. They were afraid of Fito. They were angry about what had happened to Maria and Manuel. They knew no justice would ever be done in the Americano court room.
Many wanted to leave but times were hard and jobs not so easy to come by. Families could not be uprooted so quickly.
They met that night in the home of Rudolfo Garza and discussed their plight.
Miguel de la Parra had a suggestion. “There is a brujo,” he said. “I know a man who is well known as a curandero, a healer with herbs and plants. But some say he is also a powerful brujo with power
WNWN chap VI pg 2
and knowledge of the other worlds in the shadows. I will seek him out and explain what has happened here. Maybe he can provide us justice.”
They all knew about curanderos, folk healers that used a combination of old Indian and Spanish traditional cures mixed with a dash of mysticism and various native plants and other items. In many areas in this part of the country curanderos provided the only medical care people ever received.
Brujos were another matter entirely. Religious people, as most of these folks were, feared and despised brujos who they regarded as followers of satan. Brujos were said to be endowed with all sorts of fantastic powers and were capable changing into animals. Casting spells and many other unimaginable feats. It was known it was best not to think much less to talk about such things though many people carried charms or religious medallions to protect themselves from their powers. There was much discussion and many were afraid to consult such a man.
Juan Gonzales spoke up “We have no other choice but to seek out this man and see if he will speak with us. We will never get justice from the courts and we will never be free of Fito if we don’t get help from the brujo.
Finally it was agreed. They would send Miguel to talk to the man and see if he could help them.
The next morning none but Miguel left their houses and he took out at sunrise. Fito did not show himself.
It was after sundown when Miguel returned and he knocked on everyone’s doors and summoned them together for the news of his quest.
“He will come!” said Miguel. “He will be here tomorrow. Until then he said for us to go back to work but to avoid Fito. He said for us to collect some objects that belong to Fito or that he has had
WNWN Chap VI pg 3
contact with. Maria’s dress would be such an item. Fito’s hat, a sock or some other clothing.”
Juan Rivera said that would be no problem since she did Fito’s laundry.
That night was a long one as the people struggled with their sense of outrage and their sense of fear. The next day Juana did what she said she would and they waited for the arrival of the brujo.
It was near dusk when a lone stranger appeared at Miguel’s door. All eyes were watching as the door opened and the man entered. Miguel invited him in to meet those waiting there.
His appearance was unassuming and not threatening in any way none dared approach too close.
He was an Indian of medium build, white hair, brown, weathered skin. He had black, penetrating eyes. He stood quietly erect and motioned for all to sit down.
“I am El Indio,” he said. “Miguel told me of your plight and I may be able to help. Do not be fearful of me. I am nothing but a humble man and I do not worship Satan and I only try to do good works. I normally work to heal people with ancient methods but I may be able to help Fito to pay for his crimes.”
“Will you do something to him?” asked Miguel.
“I will not lay a hand on him and I do not condone violence but I can help justice on its way.”
Everyone listened intently as El Indio spoke. The fear they had initially felt had melted away into respect and perhaps a touch of awe. They felt they could trust him and a bond was established. He told them to go about their business as normally as possible and to avoid Fito. He said he come back and talk to them in a few days and in the meantime he was going to be staying on the ranch camping out in the woods. No one was to speak to him if they should see him and no one was to tell Fito he was here or that they
WNWN chap VI pg 4
even knew of him. He told them they needed to put the whole affair out of their minds as much as possible until he returned to talk to them.
With a high degree of uneasiness the people retired to their homes there to await the unknown events that they felt sure were about to unfold.
For several days an uneasy truce existed on the ranch. Fito was not seen and everyone went about their work as planned. No sign of El Indio was seen and no one spoke of him. Even though they tried not to think about it a strong sense of anticipation and anxiety began to build. Then one day strange things began to happen.
The first thing that happened occurred one afernoon when Fito was seen to rush from his home in a seemingly terrified state. He was screaming and flailing about with his arms. He ran and jumped into a nearby stock tank. He thrashed and splashed about for a full fifteen minutes before he emerged and with a dazed look, staggered back into the house.
For the next few days he took no food and would not allow servants or anyone else in the house. At night screams and howls could be heard from within and in the day hammering and sawing could be heard. No one knew what was going on but none doubted that it was the work of El Indio.
One morning, shortly after sunrise, the clamor began to reach a higher intensity and Fito was seen to come running out of the back door. His expression was one of utmost terror and without a word or a sidelong glance he ran across the pasture and off into the brush. He was never seen again.
The following day there was no sign of him. Two days passed with no evidence that Fito had ever returned. It was decided to report this to the sheriff. Before too long search parties were sent out, some with dogs, but no trace of Fito was found.
WNWN chap VI pg 5
The sheriff was very suspicious of some kind of foul play and spent many hours roaming the ranch and talking to the residents but eventually he gave up the search after finding no clues or any indications of solving this mystery.
No one talked of El Indio and his name was never mentioned to the sheriff.
The people of the ranch had not seen or heard from El Indio since Fito’s disappearance until one day a note came to Miguel. It was from El Indio and asked that the people meet with him the following night in Miguel’s house.
That night El Indio told them that they would have nothing to fear from Fito. He told them he had not harmed Fito or touched him. “Fito had to face his own guilt and he could not take it,” said El Indio. “Go on with your lives and all will be well. I will help you if you need my help again.” With that he said good night and took his leave.
The sheriff asked Fito why Manuel would want to shoot him. Fito replied that Manuel was jealous because his wife, Maria, had made advances toward him. Fito denied ever having anything to do with Maria and that his rejection had made her vindictive and driven her to make false accusations which had driven Manuel to such a thing.
The sheriff left some deputies to have a look around and further interrogate Fito and he and two others went to Maria and Manuel’s house. Maria was hysterical and could not talk to him.
The small group of lawmen went to another house and talked to the people there. The sheriff didn’t speak Spanish but a deputy did and was able to translate everyone’s testimony.
After hearing everyone speak the sheriff said there was nothing he could do at this moment. He said the case would be referred to a grand jury but he was not willing to file charges in what looked to him as a clear case of self defense.
Fito was not arrested and the sheriff and his deputies left the ranch after an ambulance carried away the body of Manuel.
That night a pall hung over the homes where the ranch hands and their families lived. They were afraid of Fito. They were angry about what had happened to Maria and Manuel. They knew no justice would ever be done in the Americano court room.
Many wanted to leave but times were hard and jobs not so easy to come by. Families could not be uprooted so quickly.
They met that night in the home of Rudolfo Garza and discussed their plight.
Miguel de la Parra had a suggestion. “There is a brujo,” he said. “I know a man who is well known as a curandero, a healer with herbs and plants. But some say he is also a powerful brujo with power
WNWN chap VI pg 2
and knowledge of the other worlds in the shadows. I will seek him out and explain what has happened here. Maybe he can provide us justice.”
They all knew about curanderos, folk healers that used a combination of old Indian and Spanish traditional cures mixed with a dash of mysticism and various native plants and other items. In many areas in this part of the country curanderos provided the only medical care people ever received.
Brujos were another matter entirely. Religious people, as most of these folks were, feared and despised brujos who they regarded as followers of satan. Brujos were said to be endowed with all sorts of fantastic powers and were capable changing into animals. Casting spells and many other unimaginable feats. It was known it was best not to think much less to talk about such things though many people carried charms or religious medallions to protect themselves from their powers. There was much discussion and many were afraid to consult such a man.
Juan Gonzales spoke up “We have no other choice but to seek out this man and see if he will speak with us. We will never get justice from the courts and we will never be free of Fito if we don’t get help from the brujo.
Finally it was agreed. They would send Miguel to talk to the man and see if he could help them.
The next morning none but Miguel left their houses and he took out at sunrise. Fito did not show himself.
It was after sundown when Miguel returned and he knocked on everyone’s doors and summoned them together for the news of his quest.
“He will come!” said Miguel. “He will be here tomorrow. Until then he said for us to go back to work but to avoid Fito. He said for us to collect some objects that belong to Fito or that he has had
WNWN Chap VI pg 3
contact with. Maria’s dress would be such an item. Fito’s hat, a sock or some other clothing.”
Juan Rivera said that would be no problem since she did Fito’s laundry.
That night was a long one as the people struggled with their sense of outrage and their sense of fear. The next day Juana did what she said she would and they waited for the arrival of the brujo.
It was near dusk when a lone stranger appeared at Miguel’s door. All eyes were watching as the door opened and the man entered. Miguel invited him in to meet those waiting there.
His appearance was unassuming and not threatening in any way none dared approach too close.
He was an Indian of medium build, white hair, brown, weathered skin. He had black, penetrating eyes. He stood quietly erect and motioned for all to sit down.
“I am El Indio,” he said. “Miguel told me of your plight and I may be able to help. Do not be fearful of me. I am nothing but a humble man and I do not worship Satan and I only try to do good works. I normally work to heal people with ancient methods but I may be able to help Fito to pay for his crimes.”
“Will you do something to him?” asked Miguel.
“I will not lay a hand on him and I do not condone violence but I can help justice on its way.”
Everyone listened intently as El Indio spoke. The fear they had initially felt had melted away into respect and perhaps a touch of awe. They felt they could trust him and a bond was established. He told them to go about their business as normally as possible and to avoid Fito. He said he come back and talk to them in a few days and in the meantime he was going to be staying on the ranch camping out in the woods. No one was to speak to him if they should see him and no one was to tell Fito he was here or that they
WNWN chap VI pg 4
even knew of him. He told them they needed to put the whole affair out of their minds as much as possible until he returned to talk to them.
With a high degree of uneasiness the people retired to their homes there to await the unknown events that they felt sure were about to unfold.
For several days an uneasy truce existed on the ranch. Fito was not seen and everyone went about their work as planned. No sign of El Indio was seen and no one spoke of him. Even though they tried not to think about it a strong sense of anticipation and anxiety began to build. Then one day strange things began to happen.
The first thing that happened occurred one afernoon when Fito was seen to rush from his home in a seemingly terrified state. He was screaming and flailing about with his arms. He ran and jumped into a nearby stock tank. He thrashed and splashed about for a full fifteen minutes before he emerged and with a dazed look, staggered back into the house.
For the next few days he took no food and would not allow servants or anyone else in the house. At night screams and howls could be heard from within and in the day hammering and sawing could be heard. No one knew what was going on but none doubted that it was the work of El Indio.
One morning, shortly after sunrise, the clamor began to reach a higher intensity and Fito was seen to come running out of the back door. His expression was one of utmost terror and without a word or a sidelong glance he ran across the pasture and off into the brush. He was never seen again.
The following day there was no sign of him. Two days passed with no evidence that Fito had ever returned. It was decided to report this to the sheriff. Before too long search parties were sent out, some with dogs, but no trace of Fito was found.
WNWN chap VI pg 5
The sheriff was very suspicious of some kind of foul play and spent many hours roaming the ranch and talking to the residents but eventually he gave up the search after finding no clues or any indications of solving this mystery.
No one talked of El Indio and his name was never mentioned to the sheriff.
The people of the ranch had not seen or heard from El Indio since Fito’s disappearance until one day a note came to Miguel. It was from El Indio and asked that the people meet with him the following night in Miguel’s house.
That night El Indio told them that they would have nothing to fear from Fito. He told them he had not harmed Fito or touched him. “Fito had to face his own guilt and he could not take it,” said El Indio. “Go on with your lives and all will be well. I will help you if you need my help again.” With that he said good night and took his leave.
Waste Not, Want Not,Chapter VII
In the days that followed the people carried on their normal lives and ran they ranch as they would have when the old patron was alive. They tended their crops and raised the cattle and as days stretched into weeks and then months they began to feel as though the past was behind them and they could lead normal lives.
One day the flood of uncertainty returned in the person of Fito’s younger brother Pablo. Pablo had not lived at the ranch since his father died.
Pablo went to the ranch house and sent for Miguel, who was working as ranch foreman. Miguel told Pablo about the events leading up Fito’s death and about his disappearance. He did not mention El Indio.
Pablo had turned away from life on the ranch. He moved to Miami and loved the life of the city and the high life. He was blowing through his inheritance but was still well set up financially.
It was said he was a joto, that he slept with men and that he lived a life of drunken debauchery. True or not one thing was clear in his mind. He wanted nothing to do with the ranch or its operation. He wanted to return to his life of ease as soon as possible.
Pablo had the family attorney draw up a contract and made Miguel the official ranch foreman and then he left, saying he would be in touch.
Since that day life had passed here at the ranch with little change and no interference from the outside world. El Indio had come to live on the ranch and had built a small shack separate from the others and off in the trees. He served as curandero and advisor to the people in exchange for food, sewing and other small services. Mostly he kept to himself.
In the years since some people had left the ranch but most had stayed. Children were still born and raised here. Cattle were still raised and sold with some kept in the ranch herd for use by the people. Some of they young men worked on other ranches and
WNWN chap. VII pg 2
some did work in town as carpenters, roofers, concrete workers or other trades. Everyday they would walk to the road and ride a bus sent for them by their employers. Some of the children attended school in town and they took the school bus.
“That is our story senor,” said Maria. “Why are you here asking these questions? Now I have a question for you. Do you work for Pablo?”
“No, I don’t work for Pablo,” said Paul. “I am the new owner of the ranch. Pablo apparently put the ranch up for mortage and defaulted. I purchased the note from the bank.”
“We are good workers here senor and we will serve you well, as we always have. You will be pleased with our labors.”
“I must be going now,” he said. “Thank you for your hospitality and for telling me your story. I will see you again and meet with the others soon. Good day.”
With that he left and took a drive around some of the rest of the place. He saw gardens, pastures, a small herd grazing, A large amount of land, perhaps most of it, had been left uncleared and in a natural state. In a brief period he saw deer and even a wild turkey, which were usually very shy creatures.
He spent most of the day looking around and as the sun was getting low in the sky he headed back to the ranch house for some supper. He wrestled with the problem of the people being here. He didn’t want to have people on the place, it would interfere with his plans. He wasn’t heartless, he didn’t want to cause trouble for these folks but they would have to go.
Back now in his kitchen he selected a TV dinner and popped it in the microwave. He needed to relax and he turned on the TV for the nightly news. Of course the big story was the decision just rendered by the Supreme Court in the case of Gore V. Bush. The court had found in favor of G.W. Bush and he would now become the next President.
WNWN chap VII pg 3
“His daddy put some of those clowns on the Court, they better vote the right way!” he thought.
There was much speculation about the makeup of the incoming administration and what sort of policies the new President would pursue. Paul was not speculating, he had a good idea what they would be like.
After supper Paul decided that he needed to get to work. Productivity was his answer to the blue funk he found himself in. He opened his safe and drew out an attaché case. Seated at his desk he opened it and drew out a thick dossier with the title “Waste Not, Want Not.”
Only a few, selected people in the D.O.D and a small list of Congressmen and Senators knew about this project. The President elect was not in on it, yet. “Should be no problem there,” thought Paul. Paul knew the President-elect would want to keep himself “out of the loop,” because he would want to honestly claim “plausible deniability” if the thing blew up and besides, he knew the President-elect wasn’t much of a hands on type of guy anyway, he was happy to delegate to others the nuts and bolts stuff.
He also knew the Vice-President elect, Dick Cheney, personally. He had known him as a Congressman, as Secretary of Defense for Bush I and, of course, as former president of Halliburton.
Paul was fully versed on the project, it was his baby! He had been on board from the start and had originated the idea. This document was the project summary and plan for implementation. He had had this copy placed here by Conrad who had done the overseeing for the renovation of the ranch house.
The first paragraph read:
“The following material contains full outlines and details of the project to be known as Waste Not, Want Not. This is a black program and all necessary measures will be taken to carryout the letter of the plan and all security measures will be in place to protect the secrecy of this plan and this document.
WN,WN chap VII pg 4
This plan concerns the storage of fissionable materials, hot wastes and all other weapons grade nuclear materials. Provisions also include storing of warheads and other sensitive equipment and technology. These materials will need to be beyond the reach of United Nations, Allied or other foreign inspectors. This operation is outside of the government structure so is obviously extremely sensitive and must be kept under wraps well beyond established security practices.
Since this operation will likely be in direct violation of arms treaties and agreements currently in effect it should be self evident that the utmost secrecy and care be taken in all phases of the operation and all personnel will work on a “need to know” basis.”
He read on through the manuscript which covered details he was already well versed in. His role at this moment was simple. He was going to establish a presence here on this ranch but as low key as possible. He wanted to verify the geological report he had obtained and get a feel for the place. Paul’s past experience, in the military, intelligence operations and the oil patch would serve him in good stead for a project like this.
One day the flood of uncertainty returned in the person of Fito’s younger brother Pablo. Pablo had not lived at the ranch since his father died.
Pablo went to the ranch house and sent for Miguel, who was working as ranch foreman. Miguel told Pablo about the events leading up Fito’s death and about his disappearance. He did not mention El Indio.
Pablo had turned away from life on the ranch. He moved to Miami and loved the life of the city and the high life. He was blowing through his inheritance but was still well set up financially.
It was said he was a joto, that he slept with men and that he lived a life of drunken debauchery. True or not one thing was clear in his mind. He wanted nothing to do with the ranch or its operation. He wanted to return to his life of ease as soon as possible.
Pablo had the family attorney draw up a contract and made Miguel the official ranch foreman and then he left, saying he would be in touch.
Since that day life had passed here at the ranch with little change and no interference from the outside world. El Indio had come to live on the ranch and had built a small shack separate from the others and off in the trees. He served as curandero and advisor to the people in exchange for food, sewing and other small services. Mostly he kept to himself.
In the years since some people had left the ranch but most had stayed. Children were still born and raised here. Cattle were still raised and sold with some kept in the ranch herd for use by the people. Some of they young men worked on other ranches and
WNWN chap. VII pg 2
some did work in town as carpenters, roofers, concrete workers or other trades. Everyday they would walk to the road and ride a bus sent for them by their employers. Some of the children attended school in town and they took the school bus.
“That is our story senor,” said Maria. “Why are you here asking these questions? Now I have a question for you. Do you work for Pablo?”
“No, I don’t work for Pablo,” said Paul. “I am the new owner of the ranch. Pablo apparently put the ranch up for mortage and defaulted. I purchased the note from the bank.”
“We are good workers here senor and we will serve you well, as we always have. You will be pleased with our labors.”
“I must be going now,” he said. “Thank you for your hospitality and for telling me your story. I will see you again and meet with the others soon. Good day.”
With that he left and took a drive around some of the rest of the place. He saw gardens, pastures, a small herd grazing, A large amount of land, perhaps most of it, had been left uncleared and in a natural state. In a brief period he saw deer and even a wild turkey, which were usually very shy creatures.
He spent most of the day looking around and as the sun was getting low in the sky he headed back to the ranch house for some supper. He wrestled with the problem of the people being here. He didn’t want to have people on the place, it would interfere with his plans. He wasn’t heartless, he didn’t want to cause trouble for these folks but they would have to go.
Back now in his kitchen he selected a TV dinner and popped it in the microwave. He needed to relax and he turned on the TV for the nightly news. Of course the big story was the decision just rendered by the Supreme Court in the case of Gore V. Bush. The court had found in favor of G.W. Bush and he would now become the next President.
WNWN chap VII pg 3
“His daddy put some of those clowns on the Court, they better vote the right way!” he thought.
There was much speculation about the makeup of the incoming administration and what sort of policies the new President would pursue. Paul was not speculating, he had a good idea what they would be like.
After supper Paul decided that he needed to get to work. Productivity was his answer to the blue funk he found himself in. He opened his safe and drew out an attaché case. Seated at his desk he opened it and drew out a thick dossier with the title “Waste Not, Want Not.”
Only a few, selected people in the D.O.D and a small list of Congressmen and Senators knew about this project. The President elect was not in on it, yet. “Should be no problem there,” thought Paul. Paul knew the President-elect would want to keep himself “out of the loop,” because he would want to honestly claim “plausible deniability” if the thing blew up and besides, he knew the President-elect wasn’t much of a hands on type of guy anyway, he was happy to delegate to others the nuts and bolts stuff.
He also knew the Vice-President elect, Dick Cheney, personally. He had known him as a Congressman, as Secretary of Defense for Bush I and, of course, as former president of Halliburton.
Paul was fully versed on the project, it was his baby! He had been on board from the start and had originated the idea. This document was the project summary and plan for implementation. He had had this copy placed here by Conrad who had done the overseeing for the renovation of the ranch house.
The first paragraph read:
“The following material contains full outlines and details of the project to be known as Waste Not, Want Not. This is a black program and all necessary measures will be taken to carryout the letter of the plan and all security measures will be in place to protect the secrecy of this plan and this document.
WN,WN chap VII pg 4
This plan concerns the storage of fissionable materials, hot wastes and all other weapons grade nuclear materials. Provisions also include storing of warheads and other sensitive equipment and technology. These materials will need to be beyond the reach of United Nations, Allied or other foreign inspectors. This operation is outside of the government structure so is obviously extremely sensitive and must be kept under wraps well beyond established security practices.
Since this operation will likely be in direct violation of arms treaties and agreements currently in effect it should be self evident that the utmost secrecy and care be taken in all phases of the operation and all personnel will work on a “need to know” basis.”
He read on through the manuscript which covered details he was already well versed in. His role at this moment was simple. He was going to establish a presence here on this ranch but as low key as possible. He wanted to verify the geological report he had obtained and get a feel for the place. Paul’s past experience, in the military, intelligence operations and the oil patch would serve him in good stead for a project like this.
Waste Not, Want Not Want Chapter VIII
Paul turned to the section concerning the air strip. This would be the first phase of the operation. A small, earth surface air strip would be constructed. This should raise no eyebrows or local interest as such were common on ranches all over Texas. No one would know it would be equipped with the latest in radar, a state of the art weather station and navigational aids, a shielded beacon signal which would allow a secret global positioning system to home in on the strip and permit nighttime covert landings by a C130 Specter while practicing complete radio silence.
His first big problem would what to do with the people on the ranch. They had to go. He didn’t want to act rashly. If he summarily gave them the bum’s rush and ran them off there would undoubtedly be a big stink. It would probably get into the papers, maybe even TV. God knows what might happen! No, he would have to think this over. For now he would just relax and play the role of the ardent outdoorsman. He loved to hunt and this would give him some much needed recreation.
Tomorrow he would go hunting and explore the place. Tonight he would take a sleeping powder, insuring an undisturbed sleep, he hoped.
It worked well and he slept the night through.
The morning found him sleeping through his alarm and he woke a bit later than he had planned.
“oh well,” he thought. “I guess I am on a vacation.”
He was in no hurry and he enjoyed a good breakfast. He was handy in the kitchen. His independent life style had led to a proficiency in cooking. He enjoyed good food and valued self sufficiency.
The day was breaking clear and cold with a stiff north wind blowing. It would be a good day for hunting. He dressed warm and loaded his gunbag and backpack in his Blazer and he drove north, up the road from his house.
He had brought along a thermos full of hot coffee which he sipped as he drove slowly over the rough dirt road which was often barely
WNWN chap VIII pg 2
a visible track as it coursed over the slightly rolling land and its rugged vegetation.
A large jack rabbit broke from its cover and dashed down the road with leaping bounds which quickly carried him out of sight around the next bend. Farther along a covey of quail flew from a thicket and sped away.
The sun was rapidly climbing, warming the chill of the morning and Paul felt a warm sense of joi de vivre for the first time since he arrived here.
He pulled the truck off the track when he came to a “Y” in the road. He parked under cover of a group of trees and decided to take his gun and walk along a line of trees which followed a creek. He took off at a brisk pace, following a well defined game trail. He was in good shape for his age and he enjoyed the exercise and the thrill of the hunt.
As he walked he breathed in great gulps of the clean, cool air. He was feeling a sense of elation. The land was truly beautiful and wild here. He avoided the clumps pf prickly pear as he picked his way through the brush and amongst the trees. Many small animals were active in their brushland environment. He occasionally caught glimpses of their homes or trails and he sometimes walked through strands of spider webs. The quiet was sometimes disturbed by a tiny rustle as some creature took refuge in the grass.
After a couple of quick miles he decided to stop for a rest and a drink of water. He was on the edge of a thicket alongside a long clearing. He sat down facing the sun but not too exposed from cover. He sat there mesmerized by the simple act of being out in the country and on the hunt. He was content to just sit for a while, and enjoy a connection with nature. He felt comfortable and happy to be in the field. Then he saw it.
WNWN chap VIII pg 3
A fine buck with a trophy rack just walked out in the clearing. Paul didn’t move. He couldn’t believe his good fortune. His eye followed the buck as he slowly walked right out into the open at a distance much less than fifty yards. The deer was totally unaware of Paul’s presence. Paul cocked the lever of his Model 1894 Winchester and drew a bead as the buck turned slightly towards Paul. He aimed at the breast, shooting for the heart. It was an easy shot for a marksman. He squeezed the trigger. There was a loud report, a cloud of smoke. The recoil rocked him a bit and then there was silence. Paul looked out through the clearing smoke. Where was the deer? He was gone! Paul cursed. He could not have missed the shot from this distance. He quickly ran to the spot where the deer had stood but found only hoof prints.
His first big problem would what to do with the people on the ranch. They had to go. He didn’t want to act rashly. If he summarily gave them the bum’s rush and ran them off there would undoubtedly be a big stink. It would probably get into the papers, maybe even TV. God knows what might happen! No, he would have to think this over. For now he would just relax and play the role of the ardent outdoorsman. He loved to hunt and this would give him some much needed recreation.
Tomorrow he would go hunting and explore the place. Tonight he would take a sleeping powder, insuring an undisturbed sleep, he hoped.
It worked well and he slept the night through.
The morning found him sleeping through his alarm and he woke a bit later than he had planned.
“oh well,” he thought. “I guess I am on a vacation.”
He was in no hurry and he enjoyed a good breakfast. He was handy in the kitchen. His independent life style had led to a proficiency in cooking. He enjoyed good food and valued self sufficiency.
The day was breaking clear and cold with a stiff north wind blowing. It would be a good day for hunting. He dressed warm and loaded his gunbag and backpack in his Blazer and he drove north, up the road from his house.
He had brought along a thermos full of hot coffee which he sipped as he drove slowly over the rough dirt road which was often barely
WNWN chap VIII pg 2
a visible track as it coursed over the slightly rolling land and its rugged vegetation.
A large jack rabbit broke from its cover and dashed down the road with leaping bounds which quickly carried him out of sight around the next bend. Farther along a covey of quail flew from a thicket and sped away.
The sun was rapidly climbing, warming the chill of the morning and Paul felt a warm sense of joi de vivre for the first time since he arrived here.
He pulled the truck off the track when he came to a “Y” in the road. He parked under cover of a group of trees and decided to take his gun and walk along a line of trees which followed a creek. He took off at a brisk pace, following a well defined game trail. He was in good shape for his age and he enjoyed the exercise and the thrill of the hunt.
As he walked he breathed in great gulps of the clean, cool air. He was feeling a sense of elation. The land was truly beautiful and wild here. He avoided the clumps pf prickly pear as he picked his way through the brush and amongst the trees. Many small animals were active in their brushland environment. He occasionally caught glimpses of their homes or trails and he sometimes walked through strands of spider webs. The quiet was sometimes disturbed by a tiny rustle as some creature took refuge in the grass.
After a couple of quick miles he decided to stop for a rest and a drink of water. He was on the edge of a thicket alongside a long clearing. He sat down facing the sun but not too exposed from cover. He sat there mesmerized by the simple act of being out in the country and on the hunt. He was content to just sit for a while, and enjoy a connection with nature. He felt comfortable and happy to be in the field. Then he saw it.
WNWN chap VIII pg 3
A fine buck with a trophy rack just walked out in the clearing. Paul didn’t move. He couldn’t believe his good fortune. His eye followed the buck as he slowly walked right out into the open at a distance much less than fifty yards. The deer was totally unaware of Paul’s presence. Paul cocked the lever of his Model 1894 Winchester and drew a bead as the buck turned slightly towards Paul. He aimed at the breast, shooting for the heart. It was an easy shot for a marksman. He squeezed the trigger. There was a loud report, a cloud of smoke. The recoil rocked him a bit and then there was silence. Paul looked out through the clearing smoke. Where was the deer? He was gone! Paul cursed. He could not have missed the shot from this distance. He quickly ran to the spot where the deer had stood but found only hoof prints.
Waste Not, Want Not Chapter IX
Paul immediately began to search for signs to find what he was convinced would be the dead deer’s body. At first, to his astonishment, there were none evident. “There must be some blood or something,” he thought.
Then he found a small trace of blood, then another and another. He followed the blood trail to a rocky area composed of many large, overlapping flat rocks with little sprigs of scrub brush. These rocks showed no tracks but displayed another small, crimson splash of blood. He walked back and forth over the rocks but saw nothing more.. There was no brush nearby which could hide the deer. He was perplexed and annoyed to the point that he didn’t hear the whirring, buzzing noise behind him at first. Still unaware he turned and took a step then he heard the sound. He froze instantly. And then he saw the source of the sound. A huge diamondback rattlesnake lay coiled under a slight rocky overhang a few feet away. Its neck formed into an “S” shape and its tail was rapidly shaking its characteristic warning.
He was only a few feet from the snake, within easy striking distance. Paul had a fear of snakes but he controlled his fear. He couldn’t believe he was in this situation. He had thought there would be no snakes out this time of year.
Slowly he stepped back but the snake reacted aggressively and quickly slithered out from his outcropping and closer to Paul. Paul stopped and so did the rattler. Paul slowly raised his rifle but the snake seemed agitated by this move and again he froze. He would have to fire or flee it seemed. He quickly raised his rifle and fired. At that instant the snake struck. Paul missed the snake didn’t.
It hit his leg just above the boot with incredible force. Though all this took place very rapidly it seemed to be in horrifyingly slow motion. He felt the fangs rip through his pants leg just above the boot and sink deep into his leg. He could feel poison flowing into his vein.
WNWN chap IX pg 2
A hot, searing pain coursed quickly up his leg. Already the poison was taking effect. This was a big snake and he knew it would be loaded with a large amount of potent venom
He screamed. His first thought was to kill the snake. He raised his rifle again but the snake was gone. He struggled to fight back panic. His leg quickly began to swell and the pain was excruciating. He was a long way from his truck. He knew walking would help spread the poison but if he stayed here he would likely die. No one would come looking for him here he thought. So he struck out back the way he had come, slowly and as calmly as he could do it.
The poison worked its damage quickly and he began to weaken. He tried to stay in control and keep moving but he began to be delirious and his vision was blurring. He no longer knew where he was going and he could not make his limbs move under his control. The world around him began to swirl faster and faster he found himself on his back with the clouds in the sky racing overhead in an animated display.
Suddenly the pain was gone. In fact he was now feeling a warm encompassing feeling of well being. He lay there and nearly forgot about the snake and the danger he was in. He felt like he was watching a movie of himself laying there on the ground under the sun.
His vision grew dim and he began to realize that he was now helpless. “I guess I am going to die,” he said out loud. “I’m not ready to die! I’ve got more to do. I want to see my daughter.”
But he was slipping away and he could feel it. He was resigned to this now. He decided he would die a good death.
Those were his last thoughts as he felt total darkness overwhelm him.
Then he found a small trace of blood, then another and another. He followed the blood trail to a rocky area composed of many large, overlapping flat rocks with little sprigs of scrub brush. These rocks showed no tracks but displayed another small, crimson splash of blood. He walked back and forth over the rocks but saw nothing more.. There was no brush nearby which could hide the deer. He was perplexed and annoyed to the point that he didn’t hear the whirring, buzzing noise behind him at first. Still unaware he turned and took a step then he heard the sound. He froze instantly. And then he saw the source of the sound. A huge diamondback rattlesnake lay coiled under a slight rocky overhang a few feet away. Its neck formed into an “S” shape and its tail was rapidly shaking its characteristic warning.
He was only a few feet from the snake, within easy striking distance. Paul had a fear of snakes but he controlled his fear. He couldn’t believe he was in this situation. He had thought there would be no snakes out this time of year.
Slowly he stepped back but the snake reacted aggressively and quickly slithered out from his outcropping and closer to Paul. Paul stopped and so did the rattler. Paul slowly raised his rifle but the snake seemed agitated by this move and again he froze. He would have to fire or flee it seemed. He quickly raised his rifle and fired. At that instant the snake struck. Paul missed the snake didn’t.
It hit his leg just above the boot with incredible force. Though all this took place very rapidly it seemed to be in horrifyingly slow motion. He felt the fangs rip through his pants leg just above the boot and sink deep into his leg. He could feel poison flowing into his vein.
WNWN chap IX pg 2
A hot, searing pain coursed quickly up his leg. Already the poison was taking effect. This was a big snake and he knew it would be loaded with a large amount of potent venom
He screamed. His first thought was to kill the snake. He raised his rifle again but the snake was gone. He struggled to fight back panic. His leg quickly began to swell and the pain was excruciating. He was a long way from his truck. He knew walking would help spread the poison but if he stayed here he would likely die. No one would come looking for him here he thought. So he struck out back the way he had come, slowly and as calmly as he could do it.
The poison worked its damage quickly and he began to weaken. He tried to stay in control and keep moving but he began to be delirious and his vision was blurring. He no longer knew where he was going and he could not make his limbs move under his control. The world around him began to swirl faster and faster he found himself on his back with the clouds in the sky racing overhead in an animated display.
Suddenly the pain was gone. In fact he was now feeling a warm encompassing feeling of well being. He lay there and nearly forgot about the snake and the danger he was in. He felt like he was watching a movie of himself laying there on the ground under the sun.
His vision grew dim and he began to realize that he was now helpless. “I guess I am going to die,” he said out loud. “I’m not ready to die! I’ve got more to do. I want to see my daughter.”
But he was slipping away and he could feel it. He was resigned to this now. He decided he would die a good death.
Those were his last thoughts as he felt total darkness overwhelm him.
Waste Not, Want Not, Chapter X
Slowly consciousness returned to Paul. He was aware of dim light and strange sensations as he waked. “Where am I?” was his first thought. He was sure he had died. Where was he now? He had not believed in heaven or hell during his life but now he wondered if was in one, or maybe the other.
A sharp pain in his leg jolted him to think that perhaps he was stil alive. His head began to clear and a pungent smell assaulted his nostrils. These sensations were of the world of the living he was certain. He tried to move but could not. His limbs would not respond and he felt such weakness as he had never before experienced.
As he slowly gathered his wits and looked about he slowly realized he was back in his ranch house. “How did I get here?” he wondered. As the mists of his mind cleared a slight movement made him realize he was not alone.
He saw a figure standing at the foot of his bed with his back to him. The man was of medium stature and had long gray hair reaching down past his shoulders. He looked like an Indian.
He started to speak to this strange apparition but his attention was next focused on the pain in his leg. Paul looked down towards his injured limb. He saw it was bandaged with a pack of some kind on it.
The room was dimly illuminated by candle light. There was a smoky smell, like incense or something burning and the room was filled with thin smoke.
The man turned to face him. He was an old man, an Indian and he looked at Paul with kindly eyes.
He spoke, in clear English, “Do not be afraid. You will soon be well. I am El Indio. You have been bitten by a rattlesnake but I am well versed in the cures that can save you if God wills it.”
“How…how did I get here?” Paul with hoarse voice and a dry, burning throat.
“I found you. I saw your truck and wondered where you were. After a long time had passed and you had not returned I went to search. I saw what had happened and I drove you here right away. Rest now. Soon I will have soup for you to eat when you can keep it down. Be silent, rest now, we’ll talk when you wake.”
Paul closed his eyes and fell right to sleep. How long he slept he did not know. When hid awake he was hungry and he smelled soup cooking.
“Ha! You’re awake now!“ El Indio was there. “How do you feel?”
Paul stirred and then found he could sit up. He still felt a lot of pain in his leg but overall he didn’t feel too bad, just disoriented.
“I don’t feel too bad, I guess. I am hungry. You saved me?”
“Eat now and we’ll talk. God saved you. God was not ready for you, he must have something in mind.”
Paul greedily devoured the very tasty vegetable and chicken broth soup he was served.
When he was finished he could feel his strength returning.
“I have heard of you,” said Paul. “Maria told me about you. She says you help these people with their medical and…other problems.”
El Indio gave him a funny look.
“Thank you for saving me, I am grateful,” said Paul.
“Don’t thank me. Thank God for bringing me to you. I do what I can to help the good people here and others when I can. Rest now. I must perform a cleansing once again.”
Paul lay still as El Indio took an egg from a bowl and held it before his face. He mumbled something that was incoherent to Paul and then placed the egg in both hands and, holding the egg high, he made four sharp right angle turns with a pause after each turn, until he returned to his original position. He then placed one hand on Paul’s forehead and with the other hand he took the egg and passed it, with outstretched arms, over Paul’s body. Then he took a lime and repeated the procedure. Next he took some pepper tree branches and lightly passed them over Paul with a motion that seemed as though he was dusting Paul but the branches only touched Paul occasionally and then only very briefly.
Once again Paul felt himself drifting away to sleep and he heard El Indio’s voice “It is good to sleep now. You need to heal and regain your strength. I will return and look in on you when you are awake. The snake nearly killed you but God in his mercy spared you.”
Then he fell into a long and deep sleep.
A sharp pain in his leg jolted him to think that perhaps he was stil alive. His head began to clear and a pungent smell assaulted his nostrils. These sensations were of the world of the living he was certain. He tried to move but could not. His limbs would not respond and he felt such weakness as he had never before experienced.
As he slowly gathered his wits and looked about he slowly realized he was back in his ranch house. “How did I get here?” he wondered. As the mists of his mind cleared a slight movement made him realize he was not alone.
He saw a figure standing at the foot of his bed with his back to him. The man was of medium stature and had long gray hair reaching down past his shoulders. He looked like an Indian.
He started to speak to this strange apparition but his attention was next focused on the pain in his leg. Paul looked down towards his injured limb. He saw it was bandaged with a pack of some kind on it.
The room was dimly illuminated by candle light. There was a smoky smell, like incense or something burning and the room was filled with thin smoke.
The man turned to face him. He was an old man, an Indian and he looked at Paul with kindly eyes.
He spoke, in clear English, “Do not be afraid. You will soon be well. I am El Indio. You have been bitten by a rattlesnake but I am well versed in the cures that can save you if God wills it.”
“How…how did I get here?” Paul with hoarse voice and a dry, burning throat.
“I found you. I saw your truck and wondered where you were. After a long time had passed and you had not returned I went to search. I saw what had happened and I drove you here right away. Rest now. Soon I will have soup for you to eat when you can keep it down. Be silent, rest now, we’ll talk when you wake.”
Paul closed his eyes and fell right to sleep. How long he slept he did not know. When hid awake he was hungry and he smelled soup cooking.
“Ha! You’re awake now!“ El Indio was there. “How do you feel?”
Paul stirred and then found he could sit up. He still felt a lot of pain in his leg but overall he didn’t feel too bad, just disoriented.
“I don’t feel too bad, I guess. I am hungry. You saved me?”
“Eat now and we’ll talk. God saved you. God was not ready for you, he must have something in mind.”
Paul greedily devoured the very tasty vegetable and chicken broth soup he was served.
When he was finished he could feel his strength returning.
“I have heard of you,” said Paul. “Maria told me about you. She says you help these people with their medical and…other problems.”
El Indio gave him a funny look.
“Thank you for saving me, I am grateful,” said Paul.
“Don’t thank me. Thank God for bringing me to you. I do what I can to help the good people here and others when I can. Rest now. I must perform a cleansing once again.”
Paul lay still as El Indio took an egg from a bowl and held it before his face. He mumbled something that was incoherent to Paul and then placed the egg in both hands and, holding the egg high, he made four sharp right angle turns with a pause after each turn, until he returned to his original position. He then placed one hand on Paul’s forehead and with the other hand he took the egg and passed it, with outstretched arms, over Paul’s body. Then he took a lime and repeated the procedure. Next he took some pepper tree branches and lightly passed them over Paul with a motion that seemed as though he was dusting Paul but the branches only touched Paul occasionally and then only very briefly.
Once again Paul felt himself drifting away to sleep and he heard El Indio’s voice “It is good to sleep now. You need to heal and regain your strength. I will return and look in on you when you are awake. The snake nearly killed you but God in his mercy spared you.”
Then he fell into a long and deep sleep.
Waste Not Want Not Chap XI
When Paul awakened the sun was high and it was bright and clear outside. He sat up and looked at the clock. “One p.m.! Hell,” he wasn’t even sure what day it was!
He felt like he had to pee and very soon! He got up and took some shaky steps. Weak and wobbly for a moment he quickly got his legs under him.
Once he had relieved himself the next overwhelming sensation he experienced was from his dry, foul mouth. His bathroom mirror reflected the image of a pale and unshaven caricature of himself. He really was quite a mess! He quickly drew a hot bath and shaved over the wash basin.
He soaked in the hot water for a long while. His leg still hurt and was swollen and discolored around the two puncture marks the snake had left. When he got out of the tub he found he could put his weight on the leg with only minor pain.
After a quick and deliciously nourishing breakfast he went outside and slowly walked around the grounds immediate to the house. It was a beautiful fall day with a light breeze and cool and bracing air.
Though walking was somewhat painful and slow he put his mind to it and was soon managing a more steady gait. He then felt his recovery from this frightening injury would be slow but complete.
El Indio was much on his mind. He felt an uneasy gratitude on his shoulders. He was truly grateful for the man’s actions which had surely saved his life but he felt that El Indio and the squatters would still have to go. That would be more difficult now that he felt indebted to El Indio.
Paul stepped up the pace and put all thoughts from his mind and he concentrated on his rehabilitation. He continued his brisk pace for a time until he decided there he had enough. Stiff and sore he walked back to the house. He considered contacting his office or Conrad but he decided there was now no need to do so right now. No, he would do some work or maybe catch up on some reading. He was still very weak and he knew he shouldn’t over do it with work or exercise until his strength returned.
Nightfall found him deep within the pages of The Last of the Mohicans. A rapping at the door roused him from his reading. He got up and opened the door. There stood El Indio. He invited him in right away.
“Come in, come in! I was hoping you would come back. I want to thank you for saving my life. If there is something I can do, please let me know what it is.”
El Indio said “I am glad to see you are doing well. That was a difficult thing to survive. You must be very strong.”
Paul motioned for him to enter and to take a seat. He fixed coffee for both of them.
“ I am very grateful,” said Paul. “I would have died without your help.”
“It was no more than any man would do for another,” replied El Indio.
“Well, maybe so. The treatment you gave me seemed to help me to recover very rapidly. I understand you are a curandero.?”
“Yes, that is so. I use traditional cures and medicines to help people with their afflictions.”
Paul listened and then said “Sounds like what I’ve heard called ‘folk’ medicine by some doctors. Well, whatever you did it seemed to help me.”
Paul opened his cigar box and took out a fat Havana. “Join me in a smoke?”
“Yes but I have my own blend I prefer if you don’t mind.”
“No, not at all. Go right ahead,” said Paul.
El Indio produced a pipe he took and a small tin from a bag he had slung on his side.
They sat there for a while, sipped their coffee and enjoyed their tobacco as smoke wreathed their figures and drifted through the house.
The night was turning cool and Paul got up and stoked up a small fire in the fireplace. Soon the flames were dancing and casting their shadows on the walls.
El Indio broke the silence that had settled over them.
“So what brings you to el rancho? Are you the new patron? Will you begin to work the ranch again? The people here, they are all curious, and nervous.”
Paul was quiet for a moment and then spoke. “I guess you could say I am the new patron. I just recently purchased this place from a bank that had foreclosed because of many years of outstanding debt. This is my first look at the place. I had the work done on the house.”
He felt like he had to pee and very soon! He got up and took some shaky steps. Weak and wobbly for a moment he quickly got his legs under him.
Once he had relieved himself the next overwhelming sensation he experienced was from his dry, foul mouth. His bathroom mirror reflected the image of a pale and unshaven caricature of himself. He really was quite a mess! He quickly drew a hot bath and shaved over the wash basin.
He soaked in the hot water for a long while. His leg still hurt and was swollen and discolored around the two puncture marks the snake had left. When he got out of the tub he found he could put his weight on the leg with only minor pain.
After a quick and deliciously nourishing breakfast he went outside and slowly walked around the grounds immediate to the house. It was a beautiful fall day with a light breeze and cool and bracing air.
Though walking was somewhat painful and slow he put his mind to it and was soon managing a more steady gait. He then felt his recovery from this frightening injury would be slow but complete.
El Indio was much on his mind. He felt an uneasy gratitude on his shoulders. He was truly grateful for the man’s actions which had surely saved his life but he felt that El Indio and the squatters would still have to go. That would be more difficult now that he felt indebted to El Indio.
Paul stepped up the pace and put all thoughts from his mind and he concentrated on his rehabilitation. He continued his brisk pace for a time until he decided there he had enough. Stiff and sore he walked back to the house. He considered contacting his office or Conrad but he decided there was now no need to do so right now. No, he would do some work or maybe catch up on some reading. He was still very weak and he knew he shouldn’t over do it with work or exercise until his strength returned.
Nightfall found him deep within the pages of The Last of the Mohicans. A rapping at the door roused him from his reading. He got up and opened the door. There stood El Indio. He invited him in right away.
“Come in, come in! I was hoping you would come back. I want to thank you for saving my life. If there is something I can do, please let me know what it is.”
El Indio said “I am glad to see you are doing well. That was a difficult thing to survive. You must be very strong.”
Paul motioned for him to enter and to take a seat. He fixed coffee for both of them.
“ I am very grateful,” said Paul. “I would have died without your help.”
“It was no more than any man would do for another,” replied El Indio.
“Well, maybe so. The treatment you gave me seemed to help me to recover very rapidly. I understand you are a curandero.?”
“Yes, that is so. I use traditional cures and medicines to help people with their afflictions.”
Paul listened and then said “Sounds like what I’ve heard called ‘folk’ medicine by some doctors. Well, whatever you did it seemed to help me.”
Paul opened his cigar box and took out a fat Havana. “Join me in a smoke?”
“Yes but I have my own blend I prefer if you don’t mind.”
“No, not at all. Go right ahead,” said Paul.
El Indio produced a pipe he took and a small tin from a bag he had slung on his side.
They sat there for a while, sipped their coffee and enjoyed their tobacco as smoke wreathed their figures and drifted through the house.
The night was turning cool and Paul got up and stoked up a small fire in the fireplace. Soon the flames were dancing and casting their shadows on the walls.
El Indio broke the silence that had settled over them.
“So what brings you to el rancho? Are you the new patron? Will you begin to work the ranch again? The people here, they are all curious, and nervous.”
Paul was quiet for a moment and then spoke. “I guess you could say I am the new patron. I just recently purchased this place from a bank that had foreclosed because of many years of outstanding debt. This is my first look at the place. I had the work done on the house.”
Waste Not, Want Not Chapter XII
Paul put on a pot of water for some tea.
“As I said, this my first time on the property. I just want to check it out, look around and do a little deer hunting. This is a little vacation for me,” said Paul.
“The people are wondering what is going to happen,” said El Indio. “They hope their lives will continue as they have.”
“They can rest easy, for now,” said Paul. “I have some ideas that may come into play later. I will let them know when my plans are set.”
“Where do you live El Indio?” asked Paul.
“I have a small parcel not far from here. It has been passed down for generations,” said El Indio.
“So you help take care of the health need of the people here?”
“Yes,” said El Indio. “I help them and they make me clothes, give me food, take me to town if I need to go. I am a curandero.”
“Yes I know, that’s how you healed me. I talked with Maria and she told me about the people here, her husband, the man Fito,” said Paul.
“Ah, you know about Fito, and Maria’s husband. Very tragic,” said El Indio.
“What happened to Fito? Did you have a part in his disappearance?” asked Paul.
El Indio looked intently at Paul. “I never laid a hand on Fito. Fito found his own way to meet justice.”
With that El Indio drank the rest of his tea. He stood and said “Thank you for the delicious tea. I will bid you goodnight,” said El Indio as he walked to the door.
“Yes, Good night to you,” said Paul.
Paul saw him out the door and watched as El Indio disappeared into the evening. He poured another cup of tea and stirred a little honey into it. He plopped down on his recliner and turned on the TV.
Pg 2
The news was full of commentary on the Supreme Court decision to name G.W. Bush as the winner of the contested election. One talking head said that this was just the third time in U.S. history that a candidate receiving less votes than his opponent had become the President.
“Man, that was a close one,” he thought. “At least Bush comes from an oil patch family.” He was comfortable in the thought that the government would be friendly to his enterprises. He recalled that Senator Grimm had expressed a lot of confidence that Bush would come out as a winner, he hadn‘t seemed concerned at all.
Paul was, of course, very pleased that Bush had won, it would be good for himself and his companies.
“Well, I think I have heard enough about that, I think I‘ll turn in.”
Paul’s sleep that night was not sound. He felt a sense of unease, and tossed and turned all night, waking frequently.
When the sun peeked in through the clouds of the next morning he felt he had barely slept.
As he fixed himself some breakfast he thought about what he would do next.
“I guess I need to get back to Washington and see a doctor. I feel OK but I better get checked out,” he thought. He got on the phone and made a reservation on South West Airline for a flight to Washington, with a changeover in Houston.
So he spent the morning gathering his things and placing them in the truck. He drove back slowly to the road and, after locking the gate behind him, he drove back to Corpus Christi
“As I said, this my first time on the property. I just want to check it out, look around and do a little deer hunting. This is a little vacation for me,” said Paul.
“The people are wondering what is going to happen,” said El Indio. “They hope their lives will continue as they have.”
“They can rest easy, for now,” said Paul. “I have some ideas that may come into play later. I will let them know when my plans are set.”
“Where do you live El Indio?” asked Paul.
“I have a small parcel not far from here. It has been passed down for generations,” said El Indio.
“So you help take care of the health need of the people here?”
“Yes,” said El Indio. “I help them and they make me clothes, give me food, take me to town if I need to go. I am a curandero.”
“Yes I know, that’s how you healed me. I talked with Maria and she told me about the people here, her husband, the man Fito,” said Paul.
“Ah, you know about Fito, and Maria’s husband. Very tragic,” said El Indio.
“What happened to Fito? Did you have a part in his disappearance?” asked Paul.
El Indio looked intently at Paul. “I never laid a hand on Fito. Fito found his own way to meet justice.”
With that El Indio drank the rest of his tea. He stood and said “Thank you for the delicious tea. I will bid you goodnight,” said El Indio as he walked to the door.
“Yes, Good night to you,” said Paul.
Paul saw him out the door and watched as El Indio disappeared into the evening. He poured another cup of tea and stirred a little honey into it. He plopped down on his recliner and turned on the TV.
Pg 2
The news was full of commentary on the Supreme Court decision to name G.W. Bush as the winner of the contested election. One talking head said that this was just the third time in U.S. history that a candidate receiving less votes than his opponent had become the President.
“Man, that was a close one,” he thought. “At least Bush comes from an oil patch family.” He was comfortable in the thought that the government would be friendly to his enterprises. He recalled that Senator Grimm had expressed a lot of confidence that Bush would come out as a winner, he hadn‘t seemed concerned at all.
Paul was, of course, very pleased that Bush had won, it would be good for himself and his companies.
“Well, I think I have heard enough about that, I think I‘ll turn in.”
Paul’s sleep that night was not sound. He felt a sense of unease, and tossed and turned all night, waking frequently.
When the sun peeked in through the clouds of the next morning he felt he had barely slept.
As he fixed himself some breakfast he thought about what he would do next.
“I guess I need to get back to Washington and see a doctor. I feel OK but I better get checked out,” he thought. He got on the phone and made a reservation on South West Airline for a flight to Washington, with a changeover in Houston.
So he spent the morning gathering his things and placing them in the truck. He drove back slowly to the road and, after locking the gate behind him, he drove back to Corpus Christi
Waste Not, Want Not Chapter XIII
It had been an unpleasant flight but now Paul was at home in his suite at the Reagan Arms and he needed some rest. He was still feeling the effects of the snake bite and he was going to schedule an appointment with his personal physician to get checked out.
He called his office and left a message for his secretary and he also sent an email to her office computer. He said he would be back to work in two days. As usual he was close mouthed about his activities.
The next day he saw Dr. Albert who had watched Paul’s health for nearly 30 years. He told the doc about the snakebite and the folk healing remedy that had seemed to save him.
“That’s a remarkable story Paul!” said Dr. Albert. “Other than your scar and a bit of tissue degeneration and coloration I don’t see any real damage and you seem to be in good shape.”
“A local curandero apparently found me and took me to my ranch house and treated me. He used some medications of his own making and I have to admit I felt better pretty quickly. I have no idea of how he found me out in the brush.”
“A what? A curandero? What’s that?
“That’s a folk medicine practitioner, an old tradition around there,” said Paul.
“Well I would suggest you take it easy for a while yet and come back and see me in a week and I’ll give you another look over. Of course if any severe complications develop call me,” said the doctor.
Paul took Doc’s advice and he went home and soon to bed.
He slept a long and deep sleep, awakening after the sun was well in the sky on a clear, cold day.
“I think I will take it easy today,” thought Paul. As was his habit, he fixed himself some breakfast, eggs, bacon and toast this morning. He also put on a pot of coffee.
He picked up his morning Washington Post.
“Supreme Court Rules against Al Gore, Bush is named winner,” said the headlines. Paul was pleased with the result.
Paul now considered the immediate future. “I will be in a strong position to prosper under this administration,” thought Paul, with a sense on contentment.
He called his office and left a message for his secretary and he also sent an email to her office computer. He said he would be back to work in two days. As usual he was close mouthed about his activities.
The next day he saw Dr. Albert who had watched Paul’s health for nearly 30 years. He told the doc about the snakebite and the folk healing remedy that had seemed to save him.
“That’s a remarkable story Paul!” said Dr. Albert. “Other than your scar and a bit of tissue degeneration and coloration I don’t see any real damage and you seem to be in good shape.”
“A local curandero apparently found me and took me to my ranch house and treated me. He used some medications of his own making and I have to admit I felt better pretty quickly. I have no idea of how he found me out in the brush.”
“A what? A curandero? What’s that?
“That’s a folk medicine practitioner, an old tradition around there,” said Paul.
“Well I would suggest you take it easy for a while yet and come back and see me in a week and I’ll give you another look over. Of course if any severe complications develop call me,” said the doctor.
Paul took Doc’s advice and he went home and soon to bed.
He slept a long and deep sleep, awakening after the sun was well in the sky on a clear, cold day.
“I think I will take it easy today,” thought Paul. As was his habit, he fixed himself some breakfast, eggs, bacon and toast this morning. He also put on a pot of coffee.
He picked up his morning Washington Post.
“Supreme Court Rules against Al Gore, Bush is named winner,” said the headlines. Paul was pleased with the result.
Paul now considered the immediate future. “I will be in a strong position to prosper under this administration,” thought Paul, with a sense on contentment.
Synopsis
I am working on a novel which I began some time ago. I decided to put it online in the event a hurricane or other disaster should force me to evacuate my home. This would allow me to access my work from any place I could get an online connection.
I am going to put the chapters on the blog with the oldest first and so on so I can continue to add new ones in the correct order.
This means that the synopsis will be the first entry so if anyone should be interested in reading any of this they might want to go here first.
If anyone does read this I hope they enjoy it and I hope this will encourage me to keep working on it!
Waste Not, Want Not: A Synopsis of the novel by Dicky Neely
Paul Hewett had lived the American Dream. He was a highly decorated combat naval officer in World War II. He was head of his family fortune and widespread energy interests resulting from skillful management and crafty decisions by his grandfather in the early oilfields. Paul inherited control of the company from his father and had matched his grandfather’s enterprise by the leading the company, HEWCO, into world wide expansion and into nuclear energy plant construction, engineering and operation.
Paul’s private life had not been as successful. He had married after the war and had a son and daughter. His son had followed in his father’s footsteps and, after graduating from Annapolis, had entered into the Navy. Tragically, he was killed in the turret explosion aboard the USS Newport News as it cruised off the coast of Vietnam during the war there. Paul had great difficulty in coming to grips with his loss and poured himself into his work, eventually alienating his wife and daughter from whom he became estranged.
Paul then threw himself into his work with a renewed ferocity. HEWCO became even more profitable and powerful, in the market place and politically. Paul became active in the politics of the country and supported candidates in the full range of political involvement.
It came easy to him and in a few years he was a major player in Republican circles. His war connections and Annapolis classmates served him well and soon he was rubbing elbows with the rich and powerful and the intelligentsia of the country.
He initiated a program of creating and supplying weapons grade enriched uranium early in his involvement in nuclear power and became a fixture in the U.S. arms program. In a few years he found himself deep in the highly classified world of major cold warriors.
As disposal of nuclear wastes began to be a controversial major issue Paul initiated programs for storing this deadly off shoot of the atomic age. He opened several publicly known depots for this toxic waste but he also became involved in a covert movement, known only deep in the military brass, for disseminating and hiding tons of waste and certain secret weapons systems from official and public knowledge. This was done because safe storage techniques were lagging behind the ability to produce the enriched ore and also to create stockpiles of weapons grade materials that would be kept hidden from scrutiny by the inspectors enforcing treaties being made to limit arms production and stockpiles
Paul, along with many of the top brass, believed it unwise to vastly reduce our nuclear capability even in light of the new post cold war contingencies. Therefore they, surreptitiously, set these materials aside in well hidden and disguised locations for a “rainy day,” so to speak.
Now Paul was engaged in another such operation. Spy satellites using the latest MRI technology had discovered a large limestone cavern, previously unknown, on a property in Southern Texas about to be foreclosed by a bank owned by one of Paul’s companies. Paul had quietly made arrangements to buy the ranch and had improvements made on the existing ranch house. He then made his plans to visit, ostensibly on a hunting trip to conceal his true purposes.
He never dreamed that his trip would bring him directly in contact with another way of life and another world of reality. He was about to be challenged as never before in all of his experience by ancient powers wielded by an old Indian sorcerer who was pledged to protect his people and the land and its holy places of power. He would find himself in danger and his belief system would be shaken to the core.
I am going to put the chapters on the blog with the oldest first and so on so I can continue to add new ones in the correct order.
This means that the synopsis will be the first entry so if anyone should be interested in reading any of this they might want to go here first.
If anyone does read this I hope they enjoy it and I hope this will encourage me to keep working on it!
Waste Not, Want Not: A Synopsis of the novel by Dicky Neely
Paul Hewett had lived the American Dream. He was a highly decorated combat naval officer in World War II. He was head of his family fortune and widespread energy interests resulting from skillful management and crafty decisions by his grandfather in the early oilfields. Paul inherited control of the company from his father and had matched his grandfather’s enterprise by the leading the company, HEWCO, into world wide expansion and into nuclear energy plant construction, engineering and operation.
Paul’s private life had not been as successful. He had married after the war and had a son and daughter. His son had followed in his father’s footsteps and, after graduating from Annapolis, had entered into the Navy. Tragically, he was killed in the turret explosion aboard the USS Newport News as it cruised off the coast of Vietnam during the war there. Paul had great difficulty in coming to grips with his loss and poured himself into his work, eventually alienating his wife and daughter from whom he became estranged.
Paul then threw himself into his work with a renewed ferocity. HEWCO became even more profitable and powerful, in the market place and politically. Paul became active in the politics of the country and supported candidates in the full range of political involvement.
It came easy to him and in a few years he was a major player in Republican circles. His war connections and Annapolis classmates served him well and soon he was rubbing elbows with the rich and powerful and the intelligentsia of the country.
He initiated a program of creating and supplying weapons grade enriched uranium early in his involvement in nuclear power and became a fixture in the U.S. arms program. In a few years he found himself deep in the highly classified world of major cold warriors.
As disposal of nuclear wastes began to be a controversial major issue Paul initiated programs for storing this deadly off shoot of the atomic age. He opened several publicly known depots for this toxic waste but he also became involved in a covert movement, known only deep in the military brass, for disseminating and hiding tons of waste and certain secret weapons systems from official and public knowledge. This was done because safe storage techniques were lagging behind the ability to produce the enriched ore and also to create stockpiles of weapons grade materials that would be kept hidden from scrutiny by the inspectors enforcing treaties being made to limit arms production and stockpiles
Paul, along with many of the top brass, believed it unwise to vastly reduce our nuclear capability even in light of the new post cold war contingencies. Therefore they, surreptitiously, set these materials aside in well hidden and disguised locations for a “rainy day,” so to speak.
Now Paul was engaged in another such operation. Spy satellites using the latest MRI technology had discovered a large limestone cavern, previously unknown, on a property in Southern Texas about to be foreclosed by a bank owned by one of Paul’s companies. Paul had quietly made arrangements to buy the ranch and had improvements made on the existing ranch house. He then made his plans to visit, ostensibly on a hunting trip to conceal his true purposes.
He never dreamed that his trip would bring him directly in contact with another way of life and another world of reality. He was about to be challenged as never before in all of his experience by ancient powers wielded by an old Indian sorcerer who was pledged to protect his people and the land and its holy places of power. He would find himself in danger and his belief system would be shaken to the core.
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