As the Eagle Flies. J. D. Oliver
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a drunk driver had hit her head on, she never had a chance. Dad had taken it pretty hard, of course us kids did too.
I guess that’s why we were on the circuit. I was in Iraq when it happened. I came home on emergency leave, my time was almost up anyway. Our place was in the Big Horn Basin. It had been in Dad’s family for over a hundred years. The Oil and Gas people had been trying to get a hold of the ranch for years.
Dad was pretty well broke up over Mom’s death. Not enough to sell the place to Oil people, but enough to put it in a partial nature conservancy. That way it could never be developed or subdivided. We have caretakers living on it. We bought this plane with the money we got from the conservancy. I guess it was like having your cake and eating it too.
The next Rodeo was in Santa Fe. I don’t know why I said I would fly at 8,000 feet, it was way to low to get over the Rocky Mountains, so I went up to 15,000, to make sure. Our plane was pressurized and I had made sure we had plenty of oxygen in the tanks. I was a Navy pilot, they sure were pissed when I resigned my commission.
But hell, it was my decision. You see, it was starting to bother me, I didn’t mind shooting at planes and things that were shooting at me. But when I didn’t know who were in those buildings that I dropped my bombs on, that was what I couldn’t do anymore.
Besides, Dad and Jake needed me. One thing about this Rodeo business, it kept your mind off of the past, that is, except at times like this, when you were 15,000 feet in the air and the plane was on Auto Pilot.
I dug out the map. I always liked to know what was below me, just in case. I studied it, looking at any place that a plane this size could land. A person never knew.
Anytime you flew over the mountains, the turbulence was always worse. It was getting rougher so I took it off auto.
I looked down, we were just passing over Monarch Pass. The air was crisp and cold. The temperature said it was forty below outside. Of course it wasn’t that cold down there, being it was the middle of summer. But there sure was a lot of snow on those mountains. I sure hoped they were wrong on this global warming thing, but I knew they weren’t. I guess we weren’t helping it any, flying a plane like this.
It was a good thing that this plane had big gas tanks, so we could get from Cheyenne to Santa Fe without stopping for fuel. The turbulence was getting better, so I checked my settings and put it back on auto.
Dad stirred and opened one eye. “Where are we?” he asked.
“Well right now, we’re close to the New Mexico state line. Are you okay? You had about one too many last night?” I said.
“Yeah, I’m okay. Next time I do that, stop me, alright?” Dad said as he looked around for his hat. Like any old cowboy he just wasn’t comfortable without it being on his head.
“Don’t worry, I will. The only reason I didn’t stop you last night is, that you really hadn’t tied one on since Mom died. So I figured you had one coming.”
“Well you’re right about that. Grieving takes awhile. Your mother will always have a place in my heart, but I guess there is no use in getting maudlin about it, we can’t change things, we just have to learn to live with them.” Dad said, as he found his hat and screwed it down.
“There’s a bottle of water beside your seat and some aspirin, it should help some,” I said.
Jake was still sawing logs. I can remember when I was a teenager, I could also sleep for hours. Dad poured some aspirin in his hand and gulped them down with water for chaser. “When do you figure on getting to Santa Fe?” Dad asked.
“Oh, should be there in under two hours, we’re making good time.” I said, as I felt a little vibration. I checked all my gauges. Everything looked normal, all except the oil pressure on the right engine was just a hair lower than it was the last time I looked. I took it back off auto pilot.
Dad hadn‘t felt the little quiver. If I hadn’t spent the last few years in a plane, I probably wouldn’t have either. I looked at the map again. There it was again, a little stronger this time, I never looked up from my map. I looked down; we had just passed over Route 64.
The mountains were on my left, but up ahead I could see a nice valley with the Rio Chama River running along the west side of it. The little town of Abiquiu lay on the southern end of the valley right on the river. I would try for it, they might have a landing strip. Dad had noticed that we were starting a downward glide.
“Are we getting close to Santa Fe?” he asked.
Now I never did like to lie, so I didn’t, “Nope, we’re not.” The plane quivered again. I looked at Dad and said, “Did you feel that?”
“Yep, sure did. What was it?”
“There’s a problem in the right engine, I’m going to set her down at the first field I find. We can fly on one engine, but I don’t like to. You see the oil pressure gauge, it’s slowly coming down and I don’t want to ruin that engine, but I might have to feather it, I hope not,” I said, just a little wisp of smoke could be seen coming from its cowl…
“Shit, I guess we don’t have a choice. Get up here in the co-pilot’s seat and look down there, see if you can find a good spot to land,” I said, as I killed the right engine. The plane lurched sideways before I could correct it, but then I got control and straightened it out.
Jake woke up. “What the hell are you doing, can’t you fly this thing?” he said.
“Just fasten your seat belt and take that pillow and put your head between your legs, we’re going to have to make an emergency landing.” That shut him up, right quick. He wasn’t as tough as he thought he was.
Dad said, “I see a place, it’s a might short, it looks like it used to be a strip. See over there by them buildings?”
I banked the plane a little to get a good look. He was right, it was short, but hell a Carrier deck is shorter than that, but then again a Carrier deck has landing cables and a fighter jet has landing hooks. But what the hell….
I did one fly by, just to get a good look. I could see a man standing down there looking at us. He started to herd some cows off the grass strip. He was thinking anyway.
Chapter Two
I came around and lined myself up, the wheels were down and locked. There was a fence that I would have to clear at the start of the runway. I came in low and as soon as I was just by the fence; I set her down with full flaps and brakes locked. The wheels were throwing sod every which way.
The man had chased the last of the stock out of our way. I got her stopped just before I ran into the fence at the end of the runway, or I guess I could say pasture. I sure put some grooves the full length of it. I suppose I would have to pay for that.
I turned around and tapped Jake on the shoulder, “We’ve landed, you’re safe now.” He looked up, his face pale as a ghost. He looked around and didn’t say a word. For a man who could ride a two thousand pound bull, he sure let a little emergency landing spook him.
As we were getting out, the man who shooed the stock away was walking toward us. He was an older Mexican fellow, with a big smile. “That was a good landing Senor, the Gods must of have been with you. Welcome to the Ranchos de Chama. My name is Miguel.” He said, holding his hand out to shake.
I took his hand and pumped it, “Thank you for clearing the runway, I’m Clay, this is my brother Jake and this is my father, Karl Bronson. You sure saved our lives.”
“You’re welcome Senor. Do you want me to get the tractor and put your plane in the hanger?” He said pointing to a large hanger setting on the East side of the runway. I hadn’t even noticed it.
“Yeah, I guess, sure. That right motor has some problems, do you know of a good aircraft mechanic?” I said.
“I used to work on the Patron’s airplane, perhaps you