KOKOPELLI'S FLUTE

It was a fire.  Smith squatted on the trail, watching the expanse below him.  He was only a matter of 25 yards or so from the face of a set of pueblos built into the rock face, buried in a cave.  The light reflected off the face of the buildings, eerily highlighting the empty, open doors and windows reaching as high as the ceiling of the cavern.  The dark doorways looked like eyes peering down on the open plain below. 

Turning off his light, he shouldered the rifle and used the scope to view the lower areas of the cavern.  He scanned the fire and the rooms near by, finding nothing but dark entrances and apparently empty dwellings.  It was spooky and it unsettled Smith. 

He’d waited almost five minutes before deciding to move in closer.  Rifle at the ready, he stepped cautiously down the last 10 feet of the path and emerged at the dark edge of the circular plain in front of the dwellings. 

“Beard.”  Smith called out.  No reply

“Beard, come out and I can make this quick.  You can’t hide from me.  You’re wasting time.”  Smith called out again.

Rodriguez had been on his return trip from the stream.  Getting down to it had been more difficult than he’d imagined.  He was worried the fire might be out and wanted to check on Beard as quickly as he could.  As he came to the top of a rise, he heard someone talking.  His first impression was that Pete had awoken and was looking for him.  The pot was heavy and leaking a bit as he stumbled up the poor trail he’d taken further into the cave.  It was as he reached the top that he realized it was not Beard talking.

The shot rang out as Rodriguez emerged into the edge of the remaining light from the fire.  He stumbled again, dropping the pot with a crash and rolling back near a large stalagmite.  Pulling himself around the backside of the conical stone pillar, he searched the cavern for where the shot came from. 

“Beard, stop shooting.  It’s me.”  Rodriguez called.

A second shot ricocheted off the limestone pillar Rod had taken sanctuary behind. 

Realizing it was not Pete, Rod drew his revolver and scanned the outer reaches of the open area.  The shot had come from the far end of the cavern.  Debris from overhead had fallen, and dust filled the air from above. 

“Stop shooting.  You’re gonna bring down the roof.”  Rod shouted.

A third shot shattered a large chunk of the limestone away from the stalagmite in front of Rod, sending dust into his eyes.  He blinked a few times.  He’d seen the muzzle flash this time and knew about where the shooter was. 

“Where’s Beard?”  Smith shouted.

The voice was not immediately familiar in the echoes of the cavern.  However, Rod thought he knew it. 

“What’s your beef?”  Rod shouted back.  He moved back from the stalagmite and shuffled down the rise to find a better position to view the cavern from.

Cal Smith was almost giddy.  He would get rid of Beard and have Rodriguez as a bonus.