Sam woke in Walker’s dark camp under a light evening shower. He was aroused by the pestering of raindrops striking his face. Walker heard him stirring. He greeted Sam and asked him if he’d had any luck.
“She’s gone,” Sam whispered, which was the best he could manage at the time.
The cowboy was rearranging the campfire’s fuel with an iron rod. He stopped, and nodded.
Walker and Buck sat silently by the fire with Sam lying outside the smoke zone throughout the night.
Sam rolled over and coughed until he spoke. “How’d I get here?”
“Oh! How indeed. Our packer brought you down off the mountain. At least that’s what she told me.”
“She—your packer. Sue.” Sam coughed.
“Yep. That’s the one.”
“Where is she?”
“Oh she went after your friend.”
Sam rolled onto his back and hacked out a couple more coughs.
At dawn, Walker got up to prepare some coffee. He offered a cup to Sam. Sam didn’t drink coffee, but he accepted the cup.
Sam sat holding the cup, his eyes agape, focused on something far beyond the trees.
The sound of horse hooves grew slowly out of the woods, and Sue followed soon after on horseback.
“Any luck?” called the cowboy.
“Not really.”
“Well you have a seat and have some lunch before you head back out.”
“Well I see the phoenix hunter is coming around.”
Sam sat still, holding his cold cup of coffee.
Sue dismounted and set the horse out into the small meadow nearby, and then walked up to Sam and sat by his side.
“Well we’re happy to have you, at least. Any idea where Cindy and Armen went off to?”
“He says Cindy’s gone,” the cowboy interjected.
“Gone. Gone where?”
“Gone.” Sam said, nearly beneath his breath. “In the fire.”
“I guess it was time,” Sue observed.
Sam threaded his eyebrows, puzzled, then he leapt upon her and growled out, grabbing her neck, “what do you mean!? Maybe it’s time for you, too, huh?” But just as quickly, he folded over in a fit of hacking coughs.
Sue rubbed his back. “I’m sorry, Sam. That was uncalled for. Let me get you some water.” With that, Sue got up and retrieved Sam’s overturned tin cup.
After a long while, the cowboy spoke. “Son. There’s something you prob’ly ought to know.” He paused to give Sam a chance to prepare to listen. “This is going to be hard to believe, but I can’t think of a better time to try.”
“Cindy is not like most people, as you know. There are a few rare individuals that respond to these mountains differently than most. The thing is Cindy’s not the only one. She’s not the first, and she won’t be the last.” He paused. “I know. I met her—someone like her—a long time ago. I thought that when I lost her in a fire, I thought I’d never see her again. Well, son, I have to tell you that Cindy proved me wrong.”
Sue interrupted. “Sam, you know what a phoenix is?”
Sam shook his head.
“A phoenix is a mythical creature—something like a bird, though some stories say it could take human form. A phoenix is resurrected in fire, just like a redwood grove, or these mountains. It builds a f–”
“So you’re saying,” Sam began as he shook his head with indignation, “that Cindy’s a—a myth.”
“More like a mountain range,” the cowboy said aloud to himself.
“Wha—” Sam began.
“No,” answered Sue. “No, Sam. Not a myth. Of course not. Here. I’ll get you more water.”
Sue returned with some water from the kettle, and sat next to Sam. She didn’t dare put her arm on his shoulders. “Walker,” she turned to say, “wha’d’ya say we give the guy a break?”
“Sounds good to me, Miss Boswell.”