Mind Shaft

“Momma, please wake up.”

“Let me sleep, girl!”

“You’ve been sleeping for five days. I need to drive you to the urgent care. We live in remote Death Valley with no phone service and no paramedics. Remember? I can’t carry you to the truck, Momma. Please try and walk with me. It’s getting dark soon and the rain will wash out the dirt road into town.”

“Let me die in peace. Maybe your bastard papa will come to save me.”

“Your delirious, Momma. Papa’s been dead twenty years. I’m leaving now to see the urgent care about some medicine for you.”

“You’re still a tumbling tumbleweed in search of somethin’ but findin’ nothin’. Your daddy beat me black and blue when I took you back after running away as a teenager. Put the radio on for me. I prefer it’s company to your nagging!”

“…A flash flood warning has been issued for Death Valley…”

The rain is heavy as I leave our tin can of a trailer home on the edge of Death Valley surrounded by canyons.

Death Valley is like living in a blast furnace in summer but when it rains, the fragrance from the wet chaparral is heavenly.

The pot holes dotting the dirt road leading into town one hour away are filling with water quickly. Dad dragged us all over the world while force feeding me “tough love” during his career in the Air Force. Dad taught me resilience and unknowingly, no love is better than “tough love.” The emotional dam named “resilience” is cracking up. I might not make it back in time with the medicine.

Dad loved this old International Harvester pickup truck and talking to the long-distance truckers on the vintage CB radio. Let’s see if I get anybody’s attention with this old mic,

“Breaker, breaker. 911. Mayday, mayday.”

The CB is as dead as my dad.

The windshield wipers are making a muddy mess, and it’s difficult to see the road reminding me about my difficulty of seeing a life at home inside a dysfunctional family.

“Come on, truck! We’re almost halfway there.”

Dad called me “airhead,” but the whizzing inside my head ain’t air rushing about but the unmistakable sound of wheels spinning, signaling I’m stuck in the mud.

“Breaker, breaker. Emergency. My rig is stuck on Coyote Road about a mile south from Mine Shaft Canyon. Anybody got their ‘ears on’?”

No response. Not even static. Dad told me never to cry, and I haven’t spilled a tear until now. My lifelong reservoir of pent-up tears is flowing like the rain pelting dad’s truck. I’ll sit on the horn and maybe the jackrabbits will pull me out of the mud. Hear this horn, dad? This horn says: “Screw You!”

My entire life has been a dumpster fire my tears won’t extinguish. I’ll walk back and when mom dies, I’ll swallow the end of dad’s shotgun and checkout.

A bright flash appeared in my rear-view mirror. I don’t hear the accompanying thunder from lightening. It can’t be a shooting star because it left the ground towards the sky like a pyrotechnic.

I see a truck driving towards me flashing the headlamps. I’m an emotional mess and maybe mistook the headlamps as a flash. I need to flag this guy down.

“Stop, please!”

“Damn you, girl. Some nut fired off a flare gun into the tranquil dusk, and you’re sittin’ on the horn disturbing the peace. I had to drive out here and see what the hell is goin’ on.”

“Who would fire a flare gun out here?”

“We’ve been getting’ our share of drunken off-road enthusiasts acting crazy with fireworks as night closes in on the big desert sky.”

“My rig is stuck in the mud, and I’m in a hurry to get to urgent care and see about medicine for mom. I think she’s dying.”

“Your front end is buried up to the bumper. I’ll pull you out. Put the transmission in neutral.”

That old man reminds me of somebody my dad knew, but I can’t place him. He sure knows what he’s doing because it got me out of the mud in a jiffy.

“Thanks, mister.”

“Ain’t you Rita and Sam’s kid?”

“Yes, Sir. I’m Annie.”

“I’m an old friend of your folks. My name is Lou. I live on the other side of the canyon. I attended your father’s funeral. Rita was one hell of a firebrand.”

“She’s been tone deaf my entire life.”

“What do you mean?”

“Now isn’t the time.”

“She really bad off?”

“I think she’s dying.”

“I left the satellite phone at home. You want me to drive you to urgent care?”

“I’d rather you sit with my mom. The front door key is under the mat. If she wakes, tell her I sent you over. Maybe you can become reacquainted, and it will keep her alive?”

Desert Tortoise Urgent Care and Pharmacy

“Your mother is dying from a urinary tract infection common in elderly people. She needs to be admitted to the hospital in Vegas, ASAP.”

“Don’t the Sheriff or firefighters have a helicopter for emergencies?”

“You picked a bad night. All aircraft are grounded due to the inclement weather. All I can offer you are antibiotics and suggest you keep her drinking this electrolyte infused sports drink. I’ll get the helicopter out to your place when the weather clears. Good luck.”

“End of the Trail”

Dad planted a wagon wheel in the front of the driveway. Wagon wheels carry a lot of symbolism inside the west but for dad, planting the wheel meant he traveled life’s long trail and reached the end. I pray today isn’t the end of the trail for mom.

Lou’s truck is parked outside and all the lights are on inside the trailer.

“Why are IV bags hooked up to mom?”

“One bag is named ‘Lactated Ringer’s, and the other is called ‘Ciprofloxacin.’ We had a nice walk down ‘memory lane’ before she fell asleep and passed away. She was happy and told me to tell you, ‘See you on the other side, Annie’.”

“Who gave her the medicine?”

“Rita muttered something about an ‘old friend’ coming by to give her a ‘going away’ party. I used my SAT phone to call the Urgent Care who said you had left, already. The nurse said somebody with expert medical training gave her dehydration and antibiotic treatment.”

“Momma loved shots of Tequila, and I see a half-finished bottle within arm’s reach. There’s a half-eaten cherry cobbler which was her favorite.”

“When I came into the room she was sitting up with a smile, smelling like somebody gave her a sweet-smelling sponge bath, combed her hair and applied makeup. She resembled that happy young wife I met decades ago.”

“I left her in pajamas. Momma hasn’t worn this favorite cotton Hawaiian dress since I was a kid livin’ on base in Pearl Harbor. I’m surprised she kept it all these years.  Mom was always happy wearing this dress. She hasn’t worn makeup in decades but appears to have had a makeover. She was a loner and had no friends. Who the hell came here?”

“The rain washed away any tire tracks or footprints and the nurse confirmed she didn’t send anybody out here. There’s nothing between my spread and here. I’m very sorry for you mom’s passing, but she wasn’t alone and appeared to have a sendoff party, of sorts. Do you want to be alone?”

“No! I’m freaked out.”

“What are your plans for your mom?”

“She wants to be cremated.”

“Do you need help with the arrangements?”

“The cremation is already paid for. I’ll bury her ashes at the entrance to the mine shaft.”

“Why there?”

“She believed there were spirits living inside the mine which would keep her company in the afterlife. Mom also believed there was gold inside the mind.”

“If there was gold, miners would have found it.”

“I’m tired, Lou. I need to process all of this. Please stay the night. I’ll bring you a pillow, blankets, and you can sleep on the couch. There’s food in the fridge and the bottle of Tequila.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, but the sun always rises, and things look differently in the morning.”

Rita Knox
1941-2025

“Place the grave marker close to the entrance to the mine, please. Do you hear that sound coming from inside the mine?”

“It’s just mine shaft wind.”

“It’s mystical, surreal, and speaking something about the mine.”

“I thought you kicked the drug habit?”

“I’m sober. I think it’s mom signaling me to search for the gold. Will you help me, Lou?”

“I worked inside that mine for over ten years. We called it ‘The Garbage Disposal.’”

“Why?”

“The mine had a vicious heart and chewed up anybody mining for gold. The only thing inside is quartz and large animal bones the coroner said were those of equines mixed with human bones of native people. It’s too dangerous, Annie.”

“What’s that siren whaling?”

“That’s my truck alarm going off!”

“An animal likely nudged your rig.”

“I need to check it out. Pay your final respects to your mom, and meet me at the truck.”

I once sprinted up and down this trail working inside the mine. It sure seems a lot steeper than what I recall.

“What the hell! Annie, get your ass down here, and take a look at my truck.”

“Who messed with your engine?”

“Whoever opened the hood, removed the distributor cap but left it for me to find.”

“I think it’s a message somebody doesn’t want us around the mine. Let’s get back to my place.”

“Home is where the heart is.”

“It’s nice having you keep me company, Annie. You’re a good cook, and I appreciate havin’ a woman’s touch around the place to keep it tidy. You resemble the daughter I always wanted.”

“It’s nice takin’ care of a man who appreciates a woman. My daddy wasn’t a compassionate or grateful, man.”

“You’re a rebel sort of girl, Annie. So was your momma. She was a dutiful wife travelin’ the world from air base to air base and never wanted for anything.”

“I think she ‘wanted’ for love and married dad to escape a hellish life with her mother and father. Why didn’t you find a wife and settle down?”

“I was a heavy equipment operator most of my career moving earth around which got me into mining. The day the mine was shuttered by the owner, I came home to find a note from my wife tellin’ me she took up with my boss. Why didn’t you marry?”

“I didn’t make friends movin’ around the world. I wasn’t ambitious and dropped out of high school. I hit the road working odd jobs up and down California including stripping to pay for my drug addiction. I came home to get sober and live with mom.”

“What brought your family out to the desert?”

“Dad’s final duty station was at China Lake where they tested aircraft and missiles. He loved the quiet open space of the desert. He purchased our trailer on ten acres of scrub land in the middle of nowhere. It was paradise to a career service man who preferred the sweet sound of a desert breeze to roaring engines. We squeaked by on his military pension. The pension was terminated when mom died. I’m broke. The real estate agent tells me she can’t sell mom’s place because the debt exceeds the fair market value. I have to give the property back to the bank in lieu of foreclosure.”

“What’s your plan?”

“I still have a girlie figure and can fill out a tight cocktail waitress outfit workin’ dive bars in Vegas for tips. Maybe do a trick or two.”

“Nonsense. We’ll figure somethin’ out.”

“I want to know if there’s gold inside the mine like momma talked about. Even a few ounces of gold would change my life.”

“It’s too dangerous to go inside.”

“Who’s the handsome young Air Force Lieutenant sportin’ aviator wings inside the picture frame?”

“My only child and son, Robbie.”

“I’ll bet you have a slew of grandkids?”

“Robbie’s was shot down and classified ‘MIA.’ I don’t have his body to visit, but I keep the folded flag presented to me by the Air Force inside my nightstand. It helps me dream about him.”

“Why is the picture frame placed alongside a collection of stones and artifacts resembling jewelry?”

“Robbie was a ‘rock hound’ and fancied himself as an amateur archaeologist. After completing his tour of duty, he was going off to become a professor of archaeology or somethin’ like that. We spent many a day huntin’ precious stones, and I’d gift him whatever artifact I’d find inside the mine. After Robbie died, a pawn shop told me the artifacts belonged to native people and have no value.”

“The artifacts had ‘value’ to those buried inside the mine. Robbie would want those artifacts returned to the owners buried inside the mine.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Robbie’s eyes tell me he resented droppin’ bombs on an ancient civilization and would have preferred studying the culture of Vietnam.”

“In that case, we’ll return ‘em to the mine. I’ll take you far enough inside to convince you there’s no gold.”

“We’re burnin’ sunlight so let’s get goin’”

“I’ll bring mom a few flowers from your garden if you don’t mind?”

“Damn it! My portable generator was stolen from the back of my rig! The distributor cap and this theft aren’t coincidence. There ain’t no law out here, and we might not come back alive.”

DANGER
DO NOT ENTER

“Entering this shuttered mine is a bad idea. Follow my rules at all times! I’m strapping this miner’s helmet on your head. It has an LED light. Keep your hand on my shoulder. I don’t want you to fall behind. If the clearance suddenly drops and we’re crawling on our bellies, we turn around.”

“What’s that gadget in your hand?”

“It’s called a ‘Anemometer’ which alerts us to low oxygen level and toxic gas. If this device goes off, we turn around.”

DANGER
LOW CLEARANCE

“I see my light reflecting off pretty quartz crystals but what’s that smell?”

“That’s Agate and Jasper quartz known for their beautiful color and patterns. The smell is Sulfur. Watch your head! The head clearance is becoming too shallow. We ain’t crawling about this mine so we’re turnin’ back.”

“What’s that creaking sound?”

“Rotting timber which is holding up the mountain from burying us alive.”

“I’m getting claustrophobic! Don’t freak out and scream ‘cause it may cause a cave-in.”

“Why is the dirt falling up ahead?”

“Because you’re talking too much.”

“Oh, no! My leg fell into a muddy hole.”

“Carefully pull your leg out.”

“My ankle is stuck.”

“I’m going to reach for your foot and pull upwards. I want you to lift with your hip. On three. One, two, three, lift!”

“It’s still stuck.”

“I’m going to use my spade and dig around your foot to loosen up the debris.”

“Ouch! You scraped my ankle with the spade!”

“I’m removing some rocky sediment which has you pinned. Pull up, now!”

“I can’t, Lou. Are we going to die inside this awful mine?”

“Shine your helmet to the left and ask those bones neatly stacked up. This is a good place for you to leave behind the artifacts because we may need a good omen from the dead to save your ass.”

“Are those bones of the native people and their animals?”

“Yep. Pull!”

“I’m stuck.”

“I’ve got my SAT phone inside the truck to call for help.”

“Don’t leave me, please!”

“Stop yelling. Those rotting timbers will bury us.”

“You’re scaring me!”

“You better be frightened ‘cause there’s somethin’ resembling a varmint coming up quick behind you. It’s scrawny but looks human.”

“Ya’ all come back now, y’hear?”

“Who the hell are you?”

“The cavalry has arrived to save you.”

“If a raggedy ass small frame girl is the cavalry, we lost the war.”

“My name is ‘Skinny,’ and I’m pullin’ her out of here. I may leave you behind old man.”

“Who’s outside the mine?”

“Your only way out, that’s who!”

“I want you to grab my belt with both hands, and don’t let go, girl. I’m gonna’ make a quick dash from the gate like a racehorse at the track. And their off and runnin’!”

“My foot is free, Lou.”

“Run towards the light at the end of the tunnel and hold on to Skinny. I’m right behind you!”

“Just a few more feet, and we’ll find daylight, girl.”

“We made it, Skinny!”

“Put these shades on until your eyes adjust to the sunlight.”

“Where’s Lou?”

“I’m right behind you.”

“Good job skinny.”

“All in a day’s work, Princess.”

“Ain’t you the Mustangs?”

“Who are the Mustangs?”

“Back in the hippie days, a band of girls went ‘off grid’ and set up a commune in the desert. They’d sneak into people’s property and scavenge for food and valuables they could sell. We thought they all just faded away out in the desert. These thieves removed my distributor cap and stole my generator.”

“We’re the Mustangs and saved your asses.”

“There’s only a dozen of you crazies left?”

“There’s many more of us back at our camp. Get on your knees and place your hands above your heads.

“Frisk ‘em, Skinny.”

“They’re both clean except for this pocket knife on the old man.”

“I’ll use it to scalp them both.”

“Now wait one minute! The law will come for you.”

“Shut up old man or I’ll take your tongue out with this dime store knife. We could’ve entombed you both, but we need the cave open to allow fresh air inside to circulate for the remains of the native inhabitants and their steeds we revere. Nobody, especially a capitalist pig miner, will disturb this final resting place!”

“You chicks are crazy!”

“Chicks? You’re a rapist!”

“I ain’t no rapist!”

“You raped the precious land with a bulldozer creating ugly highways and penetrated the mine with a jackhammer exploring for gold while disturbing the remains of native people and their animals. We can convene a quick trial and convict you now, old man! We’ll strip you naked, stake you to the ground, season you with sugar, and watch you get eaten alive by ants, tarantulas, and scorpions.”

“No, please! Lou’s a kind man who came to return the plundered artifacts.”

“We rescued you because we knew Rita, Annie. Rita spoke about joining us after you ran away from home as a teenager. We offered her an escape from the abuse of your daddy. She trusted us and knew we’re a collection of abused daughters, beaten wives, and neglected girlfriends escaping the male hierarchy. Rita was generous and kind to us over the decades. We’ll see she rests in peace, but you can’t come back here.”

“How did the Mustangs grow so big?”

“Word got passed down over the decades from woman to woman seeking a refuge.”

“It sounds like a cult!”

“Women are free to come and go, old man. All who leave maintain the bond of secrecy about the Mustangs.”

“What’s your name?”

“My name is ‘Princess Cactus Bloom.’”

“She’s pretty but prickly so treat her with respect.”

“You’re sweet, Skinny, but I have this old man under control.”

“We don’t want any problems with the Mustangs, and your secrets are safe with us.”

“Rita is dancing with the spirits of all the lost souls inside the mine as we speak. She’s asked that we bury her remains inside the mine alongside a secret gold vein.”

“I knew there was gold inside, Lou!”

“We’ll be gentle with Rita’s remains, but you won’t know the location to keep the likes of this rapist from returning for the gold. Doc Martha sitting atop the white stallion treated your momma’ who kept repeating how much she loved you and resented your father’s tough love parenting. Many of us were raised inside hellish homes. When you’re ready to join us, come by yourself back here. Take this flare gun, and fire it into the air. We’ll come for you. The Mustangs abide by one rule, ‘live a life of kindness for each other and the land.’”

“Mount up Mustangs and back to camp! Riders, Ho!”

Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

“You’ve been reading a lot of poetry these few months.”

“This is a favorite of mine by Robert Frost about the passage of time. I’ve overstayed my welcome.”

“I’m fond of you Annie and would like you to stay on here. You’re the daughter I always wanted, but you seem weary of bonding. You said your momma was ‘tone deaf.’ What did you mean?”

“Growing up and travelling from air base to air base, many of my father’s service pals made inappropriate advances towards me. Dad was a ‘by the book’ career airman and wouldn’t believe any of his friends would attempt to take advantage of his daughter. When I brought it to momma’s attention, she warned me never to speak about it. I’ve always remained cautious around men and couldn’t form relationships. I’m grateful to you and formed an emotional bond with you, but I don’t have love to give to any man, yet. I need to heal lifelong emotional wounds. I crave the understanding and emotional support only women can provide.”

“You thinkin’ about tryin’ life with those Mustangs?”

“My momma found emotional support from the Mustangs, and I may find the same.”

“You’ll always have a home with me if it doesn’t work out. Please allow me to stay with you until they come for you.”

“They won’t come for me with you by my side. It’s a journey I must take alone.”

It was early morning when I heard Annie quietly exit my trailer. I gave her a lead and followed behind out to the mine. I hid behind chaparral and watched through binoculars at the trail of dust left by sprinting horses coming for Annie after the flare lit up the morning sky. One horse was riderless and in tow. I knew it was meant for Annie. It was a beautiful Mustang.

The herd of horses were once wild, but a ragged group of ladies tamed them with love and kindness. Annie tamed this ol’ miner, and I’m a better man for knowing her. I think Robbie would agree. Annie will be in good hands with the Mustangs.

The wind picked up and the fragrance of the desert was revealed like a goodbye card from Annie to me.

I’ll plant a wagon wheel in front of my spread. It will remind me the mine gifted me something more precious than gold.

Love.

“Riders, Ho!”