 LIAM SLOWLY
PUSHED aside a branch of the juniper tree that concealed him and
peered down Burro Canyon in the direction from which he’d just
hiked. He was nearly sick from worrying. His great fear was that
someone would follow him to the cave. No one but Liam knew of
its existence or the valuable treasures it contained. It was
just above him, a hundred feet up the rocky talus slope to the
canyon wall, and behind the boulder that concealed its opening.
As he waited and watched, he fought back a nagging fear, a fear
that he was in way over his head. He was just a simple ranch
hand engaged in what seemed to be an overly complicated
endeavor. But if he did everything just right, he would soon be
a rich man. |
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He lingered for a few more minutes just to be certain. Then,
seeing no one, he emerged from behind the juniper and scampered
to the top of the talus. He took one final glance up and down
the canyon to make sure he was alone. Then he squeezed his lanky
frame through the small opening behind the boulder and entered
Josh’s private cave. Inside, he paused and allowed his eyes to
adjust to the darkness. All was quiet. The air was stale and
musty but its coolness against his sweaty skin was a welcome
relief from the heat in the canyon. He struck a wooden match on
the rock wall, located Josh’s kerosene lantern, and ignited it.
He found a clear place on the floor and sat down, placing the
lantern on top of a nearby rock. As the flame grew and the cave
brightened, Liam could see the dozens of Indian pots, bowls, and
plates his friend Josh had stored there over the years. Ancient
ceramic treasures from the Anasazi, Fremont, and Mogollon
peoples, as well as more recent works of art from various Pueblo
tribes. Strange-looking figurines of Mayan origin were
interspersed among the other artifacts. |
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Liam reached out and picked up an eight-hundred-year-old Anasazi
bowl, cradled it in his calloused hands, and stared at it,
wondering what it was worth. He was surprised at how little it
weighed. As he gently returned it to its resting place, the
enormity of the problem facing him began to sink in. How could
he convert all the pots into cash without tipping his hand?
First of all, the cave was on private property. It was located
in a remote area on the back end of the Rutherford Ranch, up
Cottonwood Canyon and into a tributary called Burro Canyon. Josh
had told him that ranch personnel rarely came up here because
the grazing was so poor, but one still had to be on the lookout.
Certainly, coming in here in a vehicle or on horseback was out
of the question. That meant transporting the pots two or three
at a time in a backpack. He would have to leave his horse on the
public lands on top of the mesa and hike the three miles down to
the cave and back. Secondly, when he returned to Moab with the
pots, he would have to keep them concealed and sell them in
secrecy. Maybe he could entrust Billy McKnight, his friend in
Monticello who was a part-time artifact dealer. But so many
trips to the cave would be required. How could he pull it off
without people becoming suspicious and following him back to the
cave? |
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Liam surveyed his surroundings. The ceramic treasures were
everywhere, the large ones on the floor along the walls of the
cave, the smaller ones in natural nooks and recesses up higher.
Josh had placed each one on a protective bed of straw. As Liam’s
eyes surveyed the collection, his appreciation of his deceased
friend grew. The artifacts were worth a small fortune,
especially by Liam’s ranch-hand standards. And now they were
his. |
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