Walter was standing with his four friends on a patch of red earth about three hundred yards from the edge of the town of Sedona, Arizona. They were awaiting the arrival of two helicopters that were to take them out into the wild for a week long camping trip. Walter did not want to be here. Walter wanted to be drinking champagne in a Las Vegas hotel suite on his week long Vegas vacation. But here he was. Outvoted again. After a few minutes they could hear the choppers approaching. Walter glanced up into the sky and spotted them, imagining Col. Kilgore’s squad of air cavalry swooping toward them about to start playing Wagner’s ‘The Valkyrie’ and blowing them to smithereens. That didn’t happen. The choppers landed and they boarded for the flight to their destination, what was to be their base camp for the week. After about one half hour’s flight time the helicopters began their descent toward land. The area, like all of the land Walter had seen since arriving in Arizona, was red mixed with brown and dotted with various cacti and sparse vegetation. The land featured impressive mountains and rock formations, many carved over centuries out of the red sandstone. From the air they had seen a few small waterways, but they knew the land to be dry and the climate arid.
Upon landing, the group unloaded their supplies and piled them up, then Tom, the alpha organizer, did a radio check using the handheld satellite device and bid the pilots farewell. After the choppers were gone the air around them became still and quiet, except for the chirping of various insects and the occasional birdsong.
That evening, after setting up camp, they sat around a fire and ate and discussed their surroundings, the beginning of the decompression from stressed out worker mode to vacationing adventurer mode. Walter was trying to enjoy himself, but couldn’t help feeling out of place and overwhelmingly vulnerable in this wilderness. He had no experience with this sort of thing. He really did not have any interest in it either. But he did feel strongly for his friends and really enjoyed their time together, especially these yearly excursions. So he determined to buck up and try to have a good time. Barring that, he was determined not to spoil it for the others.
The general plan was to have fun for a week and relax by engaging in daily excursions out of base camp and into the surrounding areas to explore. The members of the group had various skills and interests. Alpha Tom was, well, Alpha! He would spend a lot of time hiking and climbing, trying to make a bow and arrow and hunt, spearfish, all of the macho survival stuff that you see ex-Navy Seals doing on the Discovery channel. Dan would go with him. Bill was the geologist of the group. He knew a lot about rocks and he had been pining for a trip to Sedona for years. He would be hiking around, hammer in hand, collecting samples. Mel was the history buff. He’d probably spend a lot of time with Bill and the two of them when not hammering rocks would be exploring caves for signs of primitive life and artifacts. Walter planned to hike a bit, try to figure out how to cook some decent food in this environment, and read. He had also brought his camera and would spend some time taking photos. That was what he did professionally and this setting offered amazing scenery and wildlife to be photographed.
On the third day of their trip things got dicey. A big sandstorm blew into their area and caught them by surprise. Well, it wasn’t really by surprise, it was more like none of them had ever been in a sandstorm nor knew to possibly expect one in this area. Walter was out by himself taking photos when he looked up and saw the wall of sand and dust heading toward him. He had no idea what to do so he followed his natural instincts and ran. As the dust and sand caught up to him he realized that he could not outrun the storm and needed to find shelter. He spotted and ledge with an overhanging rock and crawled beneath it seeking shelter. After a few minutes he realized that he was not sheltered enough and would have to move so he left the small cubbyhole and tried to find another spot. It was impossible. Flying sand stung his face and arms and dust clogged his nostrils making it difficult to breath. He could barely open his eyes and when he did, he could not see more than six inches ahead of him. He wandered around blindly for at least a half hour before he found himself in a small holler between rock formations. Besides being lower than the surrounding rocks, the holler had a stand of cottonwood trees that helped to slow the wind, which was beginning to fade. Walter could begin to keep his eyes open and actually see for a ways ahead of himself. He found a spot among the trees and waited for the storm to die down.
About forty five minutes later everything had calmed down. Walter wiped the dust from his face and looked around. The spot he was in was actually very nice and he imagined there was a water source nearby, given the trees and the vegetation around him. He must make a mental note in case they need water during the rest of their stay.. Eventually he decided it was time to return to camp and stood to get his bearings. That was when the trouble started. He quickly realized that he did not know where he was. He had known his direction when he hiked out of camp, but had wandered a lot during the storm. He could not calculate what changes in heading he had made in his head. After frantically trying to retrace his steps and remember his direction he realized painfully that he was lost.
He wandered. He did not know where he was going or how to return to camp. By his reckoning it was the evening of the fourth day of the trip. He had hiked over rocks, through gullies and arroyos, seen spots like the holler that he had sat out the storm in. None of these looked familiar and he was no closer to camp than he had been when the storm had ended. As the sun went down he decided to try to keep moving during the night. Why, he was not sure, but moving seemed a more optimistic endeavor than stopping. If he stopped, he might not start again. As he walked through another flat, wooded area, he thought he saw something through the trees. There is was again. It looked like fire! Soon he came to the edge of a small clearing and there was an older man sitting before a fire stirring a large pot. There was various items strewn around and a horse tied up nearby. Eventually the man looked up toward him.
“Are the buck that has been making all of that noise out there for the last hour?” he asked
Walter just stood and looked at the man, not sure if he was real. He had not had water in over a day and found it hard to speak.
“Well are you?” asked the man again, peering at him intently
Walter tried to answer but could not make a sound except a rasping from his throat.
“Son, you had better come on in and have a seat here.” the man gestured to a spot beside himself
After Walter had staggered over and seated himself the man handed him a canteen and addressed him.
“You drink some of this. Not too fast and not too much or you will be sick, hear me?”
The water was the most luscious nectar Walter had ever tasted. He sucked on the canteen and never wanted the flow of liquid into his mouth to end.
“Dammit boy, I said slow! Enough!” said the man grabbing the canteen
Walter savored the last dregs of water and cleared his throat.
“Thank you sir. I think you might have just saved my life. My name is Walter Dowd.” he said
“Well now, Walter, glad to meet you. My name is Waylon Farnsworth. What the hell are you doing out here son?”
“I am lost. My friends and I are camping for the week and I got caught in a sandstorm and lost my bearings. I have no idea where I am or where our camp is.”
“That is not good, boy. This is no country to be lost in and you do not look like you know a damned thing about survival in this country, do you?”
“No sir, I truly do not.” Walter replied
“Well looks to me like the first order of business is to get some food and water into you and get you rested up. Take this and scoop yourself some bacon and beans out of that pot. There’s biscuits too. You eat all you want son.” he said, handing Walter a tin plate
Like the water earlier, the bacon, beans, and biscuits were the greatest meal that Walter had ever eaten. Ever. After eating, both men rested and gazed at the stars.
“I do not know what they are, but they sure are pretty are they not?” asked Waylon
“Yes they are. This truly is big sky country.” replied Walter
“Big sky country. I like that.”
“First time you have heard that expression?” asked Walter
“Yeah, I do not think I have ever heard that before, but it fits. It does fit.”
“What are you doing out here Waylon?”
“Oh, I have a ranch about fifty miles west of here called the Double Bar. I raise beef cattle and break wild horses.”
“Wow. How big a place is it?” Walter asked
“Well now. It is a lot of acreage, but it is probably easier to get a sense of it if you think in terms of square miles. About four hundred.”
“Man! That is a big place. How long have you been there?”
“Oh I have been there a while now. So, what are your plans Walter?”
“Well, I guess to try to survive and get back to Sedona. I will probably never find the camp, so it is probably better is I can just make my way back to town. Do you know anywhere within walking distance that I can rent a car or catch a bus or train?” he asked
“No I am sorry son, I do not. As far as I know you are probably going to have to walk or ride a horse if you can find one. I do not know of any ranches or waystations out this way.”
Soon they both drifted off to sleep under the stars with the insects chirping and the fire crackling.
When he awoke the next morning Waylon was already up and had his camp broken and his horse saddled. Walter looked around and shook himself awake.
“Listen son, I feel kind of bad about this, but I do not think there is much more I can do to help you. There is a canteen of water and a bit of jerky. I wish it was more, but this is all I can spare.”
“Thank you Waylon, I really appreciate it.”
“That water won’t last you long so be spare with it, okay? Now, If you head that way” he said pointing in the direction that Walter took to be East “you can probably make Sedona in about a week if you walk steady. I’d try to travel some by night ‘cuz it will be a lot cooler. Then again, it is a lot harder to see. If you come across any tracks or makeshift roads, stick to them. Never know, somebody might come by on the way to town and pick you up. Other than that, I do not have much more to offer. Good luck Walter!” and with that he mounted his horse and cantered off to the West.
He walked as long as he could, slept for a while, then got up with the sun and walked some more. The water did not last, nor did the jerky. He was tired, hungry and dehydrated as he stumbled over rock escarpments and sandy expanses, the heat and the thirst ever present. Finally, after the third day, he collapsed. He was no longer in any kind of pain or discomfort. The universe wrapped around him like a warm blanket of love and he thought to himself “I can die now. It is okay.”
He awoke slowly. With his eyes still closed, he slowly became aware of his surroundings. First the smell of disinfectant. A slow, distant gurgling of life sounds punctuated by the steady, pulsing beep of some machine. His stomach growling. He opened his eyes and focused. Above him, a tiled ceiling. He looked to the left and out of a large window. Blue sky, tree limbs, mountains in the distance. A craned his next and glanced between his feet. A door, open to a hallway where people dressed in white or blue or green scurried past intermittently. A hospital. Apparently he had not actually died in the desert. He was not sure if this was good news or not.
A nurse entered the room and examined the bag leading to the IV in his arm. It was only after glancing down that she noticed he was awake.
“Oh, you are awake! Welcome back stranger!” she said
He tried to answer her, but as with his initial meeting with Waylon, he could only make a rasping sound.
“Wait a sec honey, I’ll get you some water. Now slowly, not too much!” she said helping him sip the water
Having rehydrated his mouth and throat he asked her “Where am I?”
“You are in Sedona Hospital. You have been here for three days. I think you are going to be fine sugar, but I’ll page the Doctor and he can check you out, okay?”
And with that she left. Shortly, a man in a lab coat entered the room with the same nurse.
“Hello, my name is Dr. Sanders. Can you tell me your name?” he asked
“Yes my name is Walter Down Dr.” he replied
“Good, good. And do you know where you are and how you got here?” he asked
“The nurse told me I was at Sedona Hospital. I don’t know how I got here. I was camping with friends and got lost. I tried to walk back, but I remember collapsing. I thought I was dead.”
“Well you are decidedly NOT dead, I can assure you. I’d like to do a cursory examination if you don’t mind. May I?” he asked
“Sure doc.”
He checked Walter’s eyes and heart and motor skills. He eventually sat him up and even had him stand and walk around the room.
“You seem fine Mr. Dowd.” said the doctor
“Please, Walter.”
“Okay Walter. Are you in any pain? Nauseous? Dizzy?”
“Nope. I feel fine, except I could eat a horse. Any chance for a meal?” he asked
“That’s a really good sign. Listen, why don’t you go into the bathroom and take a shower. When you get out, your backpack is in the closet. Get dressed and by then your food will be here. After you eat we’ll get you discharged. Sound good?”
“Absolutely. Thank you.”
He left the hospital later that afternoon and wandered around town, stretching his legs and shaking off the bedridden feeling one gets after being laid up with an illness. He pondered the experiences of the past week and tried to remember all that had happened through the confusion of almost dying. He tried to call his friends at the hotel, but they were no longer registered. Finally Tom answered his phone. They had all looked for him, called in the rescue patrols and stuck around while the search was on. Eventually they had to return home. It seems that Walter had been found the day after they left. Tom was very glad to hear that Walter was okay, and apologized profusely for being the driving force for making the trip that he knew Walter was not really enthusiastic about taking. Walter assured him that there was no problem and asked him to inform the others that he was okay. Walter had decided to spend another week or so in town before returning home. He got a room and turned in early.
The next morning Walter walked into The Hacienda for breakfast. It was around eleven and the breakfast rush was clearly over being that he was the only customer. He sat down and an attractive waitress came to his table.
“Hi, I’m Daisy. Can I take your order?” she asked
“Hello Daisy. I’m Walter and I’m hungry.” he said
“Well I guess so seein’ as what you’ve been through. Your body’s probably catching up to being starved and almost dying.”
“I’m sorry. How did you know that?” he asked guardedly
“Oh, you must not know, hold on a minute.” she said going to the counter and returning with a folded newspaper “see here? It’s an article about you and here’s your picture.” she said
“Oh I see.” said Walter examining the article
“Bet you thought I was some kind of spy or something there, huh?” she asked
“Or something.” he said grinning at her
She smiled in return.
“What can I get you honey?”
After ordering and receiving his breakfast, Walter called Daisy over to table.
“Daisy, would you be willing to sit down here and talk to me for a few minutes? Would that get you in trouble?” he asked
“Well, seein’ as how there’s nobody else here and seein’ as how I own the place, I think I can manage that!” she said, sliding into the booth across from him
“Do you know where a fellow might get some historical information about this part of Arizona?” he asked
“Gee, let’s see. Well there’s the library, obviously. I think there’s a historical society, but I don’t know if they have like an office or anything. Wait! I know. You want to talk to Tom Jensen. He’s a retired professor and he knows all about the history around here. He even wrote some books about it!” she exclaimed
“Great. Do you know where I can find this Professor….Jensen?” he asked
“He eats breakfast here everyday. I just saw him three hours ago. Let me call him and see if he can some down.”
And away she went to phone.
About ten minutes later a middle aged man walked into the cafe. He was slender and of medium height and had a relaxed look about him. He wore blue jeans, a white cotton button up shirt and a loose bolo tie with a turquoise clasp. Daisy met him at the door and led him over to the booth.
“Tom Jennings this is Walter. Walter this is Tom.”
Walter stood up and extended his hand.
“Professor, thank you very much for coming down to talk with me.” he said
“No problem. I wasn’t busy and I read about you in the paper. What can I do for you?” he asked sitting down
“Tom, you want anything?” Daisy asked
“Yeah. I want two pieces of that pecan pie of yours and a coffee. Walter, it looks like you just finished a big breakfast there, but I highly recommend you try this pie.”
“Tom, after my last week I can’t seem to get full. Daisy, bring me a couple of slices and a coffee too.”
“So, as you were saying…”
“Right. Well, you know about the local history in this area?” Walter asked
“Yes. I taught history at the University near here and I’ve written four books on the subject.” he answered
“Good. Have you ever heard of the Double Bar ranch?” he asked
Tom thought about it for a minute.
“Oh yeah. The Double Bar! I had to think because I don’t really think of it as local. I mean, I guess it is, but it’s 80 miles from here. At least the Eastern edge of it is.”
“What can you tell me about it?”
“Well it was founded in 1840 under the homestead laws. It was a cattle and horse ranch, and very big. You have to understand that these were the original settlers after the native Americans. They basically just showed up out in the middle of nowhere and decided to build a ranch. In a lot of cases towns eventually sprang up near them, then later railroads and such. The ranch was passed to down from father to son for four generations and thrived. They sold beef and they sold horses to the cavalry. The last heir to own the ranch was an alcoholic and a gambler. After leaving the ranch at eighteen, he spent his time travelling, drinking, gambling and whoring. The ranch was run by a series of foreman who basically bled it dry. The last owner died in 1932 and the ranch petered out shortly thereafter. There were no heirs to run it and the last owner had bankrupted it. I”m not sure what its status is now. If anybody officially owns it, they are not doing anything with the land. It’s just a remote hunk of the desert.”
“Wait a minute! You say the last owner died in 1934? Are you sure?” he asked incredulously
“Why yes. Why do you ask?”
“On my second evening being lost I wandered into the campsite of a man who helped me. Saved my life actually. He gave me water and fed me. We talked and I spent the night. The next day he pointed me in the direction of town and gave me some water and jerky for the journey.” said Walter
“Yes?” asked Tom
“We spent some time talking around the campfire and he told me he owned a ranch to the West and he was heading there. He said the name of the ranch was the Double Bar!”
“What? I’m afraid you’ve been the brunt of a joke Walter.” said Tom
“Why would he do that to someone who was clearly in trouble that he helped?” asked Walter “it makes no sense!”
“That’s true. Did he give you a name?” asked Tom
“Yes. He said his name was Waylon Farnsworth.” said Walter
Tom suddenly went ashen as he looked directly at Walter.
“Say that name again…”
“Waylon Farnsworth.”
“Walter. I’ve taken my valuable time to come down here and talk to you. I know it’s funny to blow into town and fuck with the locals, but I don’t appreciate it!” Tom said, rising
“Tom, I’m not kidding. This is no joke. I almost died out there. I’ve never been to this part of the country before. I didn’t really want to come this time, but that’s another story. This is not a stunt. I’m telling you it’s true and he said his name was Waylon Farnsworth!”
“Wait a minute.” said Tom, reaching into the satchel briefcase he had brought with him and removing a book.
After leafing through the book to the middle section, Tom held out the book to Walter. On the open page there was a portrait.
“That’s him. That’s the man I met.” said Walter
The caption under the portrait read
Waylon Farnsworth
Double Bar Ranch
1801-1860
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