Michael McGarrity - Tularosa

Patrick Kerney, age 87, his son, Matthew, and his grandson, Kevin, took part in the Prather showdown, armed with repeating rifles. (Attached are archive photographs.) The incident made national news and was covered by the wire services, newspapers, and broadcast media. The Kerney family moved to the Jennings ranch, where Matthew was employed as foreman. Patrick Kerney resided with the family until 1963, when deteriorating health forced his son to place him in an Albuquerque nursing home, where he died the following spring. She skimmed through the eight-by-ten black-and white photographs once more, stopping at the picture of a young Kevin Kerney sitting against the rock exterior of the Prather ranch house, with his arms wrapped around his knees and his hands clutching the barrel of a rifle. He was dressed in faded jeans stuffed into scruffy boots and a wide-brim cowboy hat pulled low. His eyes were wide open and filled with innocent determination. It was both charming and touching.

Despite the lateness of the hour, more work needed to be done. Kerney's breakthrough was progress, and it started Sara's wheels turning. It was time to do something equally innovative about the missing Navy enlisted man. She opened the case file on Petty Officer Third Class Alan Yardman and started to read it, looking for anything that might give her a new strategy. *** Strong upper-level winds cleared the last of the haze from the sky and chilled the night air. A crust of fresh sand crunched under Kerney's feet as he walked to the steps of the barracks. According to his watch, PFC Tony should be about to get off work. As tired as he was, Kerney didn't dare sit down. The knee felt as if it would lock up. It would take a lot of painful stretching to get it to work in the morning without killing him. He was grateful when Tony rounded the corner of the building.

"More questions, Lieutenant?"

"Just a few. Did you go with Sammy on any of his excursions into the desert?"

"I don't know nothing about that." He nervously took out a cigarette and lit it.

"I'll be checking the records at the service club in the morning," Kerney countered.

"Why not make my job easier?" Tony exhaled and stayed silent.

"Look, Alonzo, protecting Sammy because he may have broken a few stupid rules doesn't help him. We both know Sammy's a good guy. I'm not here to get anybody in trouble."

"Why should I believe you?"

"I'm Sammy's godfather." Kerney took out his wallet, found the high school graduation picture Sammy had sent him, and handed it to Tony. Tony cocked his head and looked at it.

"You expect me to believe a Navajo has a white guy for a godfather?" Tony questioned.

"Sammy isn't a Navajo; his father is. Sammy's Tewa and belongs to his mother's clan."

"That's right," Tony replied.

"I've known Sammy since the day he was born. Turn the picture over."

Tony flipped over the photograph, read the inscription, gave it back to Kerney, and smiled.

"A Tewa with an Irish-American godfather. Damn. Sammy didn't tell me about that.

"Okay. I went with him a few times. We would check out a jeep from the service club and take off. You're supposed to stay on certain roads, but Sammy drove wherever the hell he wanted to. I kept warning him the MP patrols would catch us, but he said he would just tell them we got lost."

"What did Sammy do when you were with him?"

"He had this real nice thirty-five-millimeter camera he bought at the PX. It had a telephoto lens. He took a lot of pictures. Scenery. Birds. Whatever he liked."

"Do you remember where you went?" Tony lifted his head in the direction of the San Andres Mountains. "Up on some mesas. A good thirty miles out."

"Do you remember any place-names?"

"Just one. Sheep Mesa, Big Sheep Mesa, or Big Mesa. Something like that. It's north of an old ranch."

"Where did Sammy keep his camera?"

"I don't know, but he almost always had it with him when he was off duty." Tony stubbed out the cigarette on the heel of his boot and field-stripped it.

"Did he develop his own pictures?"

"Yeah, but he didn't use the darkroom on the post. Once in a while he'd come back from Las Cruces with developed prints." He looked over Kerney's shoulder, came to attention, and snapped off a salute.

Kerney turned to find Captain Meehan returning the acknowledgment. He was in uniform and wearing an Army-issue sweater to ward off the chill.

"I wonder if you would give me a few minutes with Lieutenant Kerney," Meehan said to the young soldier.

"Yes sir."

"Very good," Meehan answered cordially. He waited for Tony to salute again, returned the courtesy, eyed Kerney speculatively, and waited to speak until Tony went inside the barracks.

"I thought you'd finished your investigation."

"Almost," Kerney replied. "Just some wrap-up questions."

"Any interesting developments?"

"Nothing at all."

"Will you be coming back?" Meehan inquired.

"Probably not." Meehan smiled.

"If you do, check in with my first sergeant or company clerk before you talk to the personnel."

"I apologize for the omission." Meehan laughed.

"No harm done, but I want to keep things settled down around here. Troop morale is important to me. From Captain Brannon I'm aware that you saw service as an Army officer. I think you know what I'm saying."

Kerney decided to push Meehan's button. He was growing tired of the man's supercilious attitude. "Is troop morale a problem for you. Captain?"

Meehan stiffened and became more formal. "This is an isolated, secure military base. Most of the men who live in the barracks are young, horny, and usually flat broke two weeks after they get paid. Any A.W.O.L. situation can become infectious. I do not plan to be called on the carpet to explain an unacceptable A.W.O.L. rate."

"I see your point," Kerney responded affably.

"Good. I'll walk with you to your truck," Meehan announced, guiding Kerney along with a touch on his arm.

"I'm sure the Army will find Specialist Yazzi. Captain Brannon has some very experienced personnel."

"I'm sure she does," Kerney agreed. At Kerney's truck Meehan said goodbye, patting the driver's door to speed him on his way. Kerney gave him a wave and drove out of the parking lot. He circled the compound, killed his headlights, and coasted to a stop in time to see Meehan going through the back door of Alonzo Tony's barracks. He restarted the engine and headed toward the BOQ.

The soldier on duty at the BOQ gave Kerney the irritated, barely compliant look enlisted personnel reserve for VIPS who take advantage, and told him Captain Brannon had ordered him to stand by until Kerney arrived. Kerney apologized for holding the soldier up, took his key, and found his way to his room. At the end of the hall the lobby lights went off before he had the door open.

He stretched out fully dressed on the bed, with a pillow under his knee. Where was Sammy's camera? That, and the film and photographs, along with any additional sketchbooks, needed to be found. And why was Captain Meehan interrogating Alonzo Tony? Kerney doubted it had a damn thing to do with troop morale. What was Meehan doing in the compound so late at night in the first place?

The company headquarters had been dark and quiet during the time Kerney waited for Tony. Meehan's arrival and his little chat seemed more than coincidental. He shifted the position of his leg on the pillow and groaned. The last question for the evening was personal: how in the hell did he expect to raise beef cattle and ranch when he got so damned exhausted doing absolutely nothing?

Corporal Eddie Tapia stood in front of Captain Brannon's office door worried about orders he had received to report to her on the double. The duty sergeant at the desk shrugged when he asked why the captain wanted to see him. He didn't think he'd screwed up. On the promotion list for buck sergeant, Eddie couldn't afford any mistakes. He needed that third stripe and the pay raise that went with it. It wasn't easy to support a wife and a new baby on an E-4 salary. After spending the night in a car outside the BOQ, trying to stay awake while the civilian cop from Las Cruces slept in a warm bed, he felt rumpled, groggy, and in need of a shave.