Snakes and Snails and Puppydog Tails by Nexxie PART IV The smell of coffee permeated the campsite, teasing Roy awake with its tantalizing aroma.  Like a needle to the north, he was drawn irrisistably to the warmth of the rekindled campfire and a taste of the piping hot liquid that sat on the grate above it.  Bless Johnny, he thought as he took his first sip of the morning brew, wishing he could dip his fingers and toes in and warm them up too.  There was a distinct chill to the morning air; although the sun was slowly rising in the eastern sky, it had yet to make an appearance above the trees that surrounded the campsite. The zipper on the DeSoto's tent made a rasping sound as Chris emerged, pausing to yawn and stretch before joining Roy by the fire.  Roy smiled at his son as he handed him a cup of Johnny's strong coffee with extra cream and sugar, just the way Chris liked it.  Blinking his eyes to adjust them to the light, Chris looked around for Johnny.  Failing to find him, he looked at Roy with raised eyebrows. "Johnny and J.R. went for an early morning hike," Roy answered the unspoken question. "Why didn't they invite us?" Chris asked, a hint of irritation in his voice. "Maybe they didn't want to wake us.  I don't know how long ago they left," Roy admitted. "They still could have asked."  Chris was unhappy that the two would slip away.  This was "his" trip. Suddenly from the direction of the trail, the two men by the fire could hear the sound of running feet and bits of shouted conversation.  They stood, mildly alarmed, preparing to investigate when J.R. came running into the campsite, hotly pursued by Johnny who grabbed his son from behind and spun him to the side before slamming into the side of the Rover. "I win!" crowed Johnny triumphantly. "That's not fair, you cheated!"  J.R. panted, looking accusingly at his father.  He wasn't really mad; both of them thoroughly enjoyed the race and both cheated along the way, cutting through the woods where the trail doubled back on itself in places. "I deserved a head start, I'm older," Johnny retorted, beginning to realize how true that was as he fought to catch his breath. "Yeah, but you know the trail better, that's advantage enough," J.R. shot back. "You just can't take it that your old man bested you," the senior Gage scoffed. "Yeah, ...well you cheated!  I was almost to the Rover when you pushed me." Johnny just shrugged and grinned.  "Life's tough, deal with it." "You still cheated," J.R. grumbled as he headed toward the coffee pot. "Hey, Johnny, way to go!" enthused Chris, with a derisive smile at J.R.  "Not bad for an old guy." The look of sheer rage that appeared on J.R.'s face startled the other three campers. If looks could kill, Chris would have been slain on the spot. His good humor destroyed, J.R. turned abruptly and headed for the woods, picking up the axe on his way.  In a few moments the other three could hear the impact of the axe on wood somewhere back in the thickly forested area behind the campsite, accompanied by muttered imprecations. Johnny started to rise, then changed his mind.  As far as he could see, J.R. took exception to Chris' comments, and was working it out in a positive manner.  It seemed a harmless enough way to deal with the situation...much better than a direct confrontation.  He feared for a few moments that it would come to that. Roy was giving him looks that clearly asked if he was going to let J.R. get away with this. Gage shrugged.  "The boy has a right to his opinion," he said.  He didn't verbally agree or disagree, hoping to let the moment pass, but in his heart, John didn't blame J.R. for getting angry.  At eighteen Johnny had more respect than to address a man his father's age by his given name without an express invitation to do so. Chris looked at his father to see what he would do.  Neither man thus far had objected to the casual form of address.  Giving in at this point and returning to the use of "Uncle" Johnny seemed to be a step backwardsfor his son.  And it would give J.R. Gage the satisfaction of having bested Chris.  Roy decided to stay out of it. The disagreement was between the two boys, and in this case, he didn't see one acting any better than the other. The situation was still tense and the campsite silent when J.R. returned with an armload of wood.  He looked straight ahead as he carefully stacked it a safe distance from the firepit before heading back for another load.  As he re-entered the woods, he heard a heavy sigh from one of the men around the fire, he wasn't sure he wanted to know which one. Chris tossed the remains of his now-cold coffee into the trees and stared malevolently at the woods where they could hear J.R. gathering another bundle of firewood.  His shoulders set and tense, Chris was a study in angry young man. *************** Johnny stared at his Rover unwilling to give in on this one. There had to be a solution.  What could they all do that would bring them back together?  The tip of a fiberglass pole touching the side window of the Rover gave him the answer he was looking for.  With a grin Johnny stood, his humor immediately restored.  "Gentlemen, I believe the morning is not yet too far advanced for a little fishin' " Relief flooded Roy's countenance as he nearly ran for their gear.  Nothing could cheer a man up like catching a fish.  It was a while since he and Johnny went fishing together, they shouldn't have waited this long.  In fact, it was a while since he and Johnny did anything together other than work on repairing each other's houses.  Ever since J.R. showed up at Rampart, seemingly out of the blue, Roy's former partner just didn't seem to have time for his old friend.  I miss you, Junior, Roy thought.  I miss our arguments, I miss trying to make one of your crazy schemes work.  I miss riding in the squad and working side by side to save a life.  Somehow we've drifted apart, let our kids and our stations come between us.  The day we were promoted to captains, we promised each other that wouldn't happen.  We thought nothing could ever come between us as friends.  But it has, and I miss our partnership, the way we kept an eye out for each other.  Do you know I worry about you?  Sometimes, with me not there, I'm afraid you will do something reckless.  Maybe tonight we can have a long talk and get our friendship back on track.  I sure hope so. *************** When J.R. returned with another armload of wood, it was to find his father and the DeSotos immersed in preparing packs and fishing gear for the short trip to a nearby lake.  Small and secluded the lake had good fishing and was accessible from the property of one of Gage's many friends. Johnny flashed his offspring a quick grin.  "Get your stuff together, son, we're goin' fishin'." Warily J.R. again donned the items he wore on the hike yesterday.  This time Johnny came up and put his arm around J.R., drawing him along by his side with a gentle pressure on the young man's back.  Johnny was having none of the hanging back that was allowed the day before.  Chris sulked for a little while, unhappy that first, J.R. was allowed to get away with what amounted to a tantrum, and then Johnny took the planning of the day away from him by announcing the impromptu fishing trip.  *********************** "This lake is small, but it does have lots of fish," Johnny informed his son. J.R. tried to drum up some enthusiasm.  He wanted to learn to fish, but was unsure about doing that learning in front of Chris DeSoto.  He would be sure to mark every mistake and capitalize on it to make the young Gage feel like a fool. Why can't he just leave me alone, J.R. wondered.  Why does he have to make such a show of everything? To J.R.'s relief they ranged some distance apart along the lake to avoid entangling lines.  Chris and his dad moved farther down the lakeshore to the south where they were in sight, but out of hearing range of his fishing lesson. Johnny carefully showed J.R. how to cast, how to tie on a lure, and how to slowly reel in his hook to make the lure appear to be moving through the water.  Like the driving lesson, J.R.'s first attempts at casting were clumsy and ill-fated.  He could almost hear Chris snicker as the line went behind him, beside him and into his jeans---everywhere but where J.R. wanted to put it.  Even Johnny was smiling, but it was a good-natured smile.  Casting is a skill that takes time and practice, he promised his son. Finally getting the hang of putting the lure in the water approximately where he wanted it, instead of the trees or the seat of his jeans,  J.R. then learned to slowly reel it in.  It seemed like an awful lot of work---all that trouble to cast the line just to bring it in and do it over again.  After Johnny was satisfied that J.R. was doing fine on his own, he moved a little ways down the lakeshore between his son and Chris and cast out his own line.  He found that he had neglected a step in J.R.'s "Fishing 101" course when the boy managed to catch a fish, then reeled it in and stood bewildered, wondering what to do next. It was a small rainbow trout...too small to keep, Johnny explained to J.R. as he showed him how to remove the hook from the fish without either getting hooked himself or getting his hands pierced by the fish's sharp gills.  J.R. watched intently, almost certain that the tool Johnny was using to remove the hook was a medical instrument.  He held it up and looked questioningly at his father. "Forceps," Johnny muttered.  "They're perfect for taking out the hooks, and no, I'm not going to tell you where I got them.  Let's just say what Dixie doesn't know won't hurt her." Grinning, J.R. indicated that he was ready to continue fishing.  Johnny returned to his own rod and reel, smoothly casting his lure out into the mirror-still water.  An exclamation from Roy indicated he had a bite and was bringing in a good-sized fish.  It was a large-mouth bass, a beauty, and Roy held up the first "keeper" of the day, anticipating how good it would taste for dinner that night. Chris brought in a trout soon after that and then Roy hooked another one.  Johnny looked back over to J.R. to see him frowning in concentration.  It soon became apparent that the line was tangled on his reel and he was having difficulty straightening out the snarl.  With a sigh, Johnny put his fishing rod back down on the bank and went to the aid of his frustrated son. John Gage chanced to look back at Chris and saw a satisfied smirk on his face as he watched J.R. struggle with the unfamiliar reel.  Johnny frowned.  He could remember untangling Chris' line numerous times over the years.  The boy didn't need to look so smug. J.R. was just about ready to chuck the whole thing, sure that taking a nice long hike would beat this lesson in frustration and humiliation all hollow.  One look at his dad's patient expression though convinced him to hang in there a little longer. Fortunately the line wasn't badly fouled and Johnny untangled it with little trouble, showing J.R. why it became snarled and how to avoid it in the future.  J.R. nodded, wondering how many more little lessons there would be before this morning was over.   Roy meanwhile,had caught yet another fish, this one a striped bass and Chris pulled in a second trout.  They had apparently found the right spot.  Johnny hoped they would share---if he and J.R. were going to eat their catch, they might be munching on lures. John had just put his hook back in the water when he heard J.R. call excitedly.  The way the end of the pole dipped, either he had a good sized fish or he had snagged something heavy on the bottom of the lake.  Johnny hoped it was a fish, for all their sakes; he would hate to have to cut the line and J.R. needed a break.  His son looked ready to give up a few minutes ago. J.R.'s fish proved to be a large rainbow trout, bigger than any of those caught by Roy and Chris. John watched as J.R. successfully removed his fish from the hook and slipped it into the creel.  When his son had completed the action without hooking himself, snarling his line or losing the fish, Johnny exhaled in relief.  Maybe this would turn out to be an enjoyable day after all. The fish J.R. caught proved to be the last one for the morning as the sun rose high in the sky and the day grew warm.  Johnny explained to J.R., now unwilling to leave, that during the heat of the day the fish usually didn't bite.  They would find something else to do and return in the cooler hours of the evening. Chris and Roy packed up their gear and hiked back to the campsite, Johnny and J.R. trailing.  Everyone was satisfied and in a good mood.  The DeSotos had a respectable catch and the Gages had one large fish to share.  More importantly, no tempers were lost, nobody was hurt, and there would be plenty of fish for supper. Back at the camp, the morning's catch was cleaned and placed on ice, ready to cook for dinner.  Roy  proposed resting until lunch, but Johnny wanted to explore a side trail and when Chris and J.R. opted to join him, Roy followed suit.  Both young men fell in behind Johnny as he entered into the coolness of the woods with the senior DeSoto bringing up the rear. ************* Walking with Johnny's son this time, Roy gained a new perspective.  J.R. watched the forest floor as they hiked and often stopped to examine some bit of flora.  A couple times he pointed out to Roy certain insects or plants that resembled some in the Ozarks, but were variations unfamiliar to him.  Once he answered a bird that was calling to its mate.  The whistle was so close to the original that Roy looked around for the bird that made it, only to end up looking at the grinning face of his friend's son. "Who taught you to do that?" he questioned J.R. "Cager," he replied simply, then explained.  "Cager was a friend of mine in Kansas City.  He's  a 'Nam vet, a Green Beret, and enjoys backwoods camping.  When I needed a friend, he came along and taught me a lot of things, including wilderness survival.  One of Cager's hobbies is imitating bird calls.  He said it came in handy in Viet Nam, though he never explained just how." Roy could imagine.  "Do you still keep in touch with him?" "Well, I'm not sure.  Cager isn't one for writing, but I send him a letter now and then.  None of them have been returned, so I assume he is receiving them."  J.R. remembered the first long letter he wrote to Cager, telling him all about finding his father and how his grandfather McGuire showed up.  Since then he wrote letters about the guys at the station, some of the fires and rescues he was involved in, and lately...Jennifer DeSoto.  "He sounds like quite a guy." "He's a little rough around the edges," J.R. admitted, "but when I needed a friend, he was there.  I'm not sure how I would have made it through the days after my mom's funeral if it wasn't for him.  He just took me camping, kept me occupied and listened to my troubles.  Then when I was ready to go back to civilization, he checked up on me every so often." "Everybody should have a friend like that.  Your dad is like that to me...always there when I, or my family for that matter, needs him.  He's kind of like a brother to me, only closer.  We were the best dam...darned paramedic team in L.A. County."  Roy was staring into space, lost in memories. "Do you miss being a paramedic?"  J.R. was curious.  He knew his father would look longingly sometimes at the picture of him and his partner that sat in a place of prominence on their mantle. "Sometimes," Roy answered, "...sometimes I miss it a lot.  It's kind of a special job, you know, not just everybody can take doing what we did, but we loved it.  Have you given thought to taking paramedic training, J.R.?"  Roy didn't know why, but he was holding his breath waiting for the young man's response. "I've thought about it," J.R. admitted.  "Especially when I'm asked to assist Winston and Crawford...mostly carrying their gear or giving somebody oxygen.  But I spent four years taking care of my mom, watching her die.  I spent a lot of time in the hospital with her, and then in a hospice.  It took me a while to get over it...I'm not sure yet that I am.  Being a paramedic might be more than I can handle...not physically, I mean I'm not squeamish or anything, but losing a victim might be like losing my..."  He couldn't finish the sentence.  This was more candid than he cared to be with Roy DeSoto. Roy nodded.  He wasn't sure why he was relieved by J.R.'s answer. Johnny and Chris stopped on the trail ahead to allow the other two to catch up.  The path was becoming rocky and steep; they needed to decide whether to continue or turn back.  Johnny could see in J.R.'s eyes the desire to go on, but he knew that Chris should make the decision, since this was his trip.  Besides, Johnny and his son could come back at a later time.  Chris decided to see where the trail led; if it became too precipitous to continue without climbing equipment, they could always turn back. It was a fairly easy climb, but the day was growing hot.  As the trail turned beside the face of a bluff, J.R. spotted a small cave about twenty feet up the rock face.  While the others sat down to rest, he cautiously climbed up to the mouth and peered in, keeping an eye out for snakes.  In the Ozarks, he knew, that was a good place for a bad encounter.  When he was sure the mouth of the cave was snake free, he stood on the ledge and leaned in, flashing his light into the interior gloom to check for signs of occupation.  There were no recent animal prints on the dirt floor or any gamy scent that indicated an animal's den.  "J.R., stop!"  Johnny's voice halted his son as he was stooping to enter the cave.  At an inquisitive look from the young man, Johnny was uncertain what to say next...that he had a feeling the place was unsafe?  "Wait for me, okay?"  There was no reason, just a foreboding, a hesitation, a sense of danger as he gazed at J.R. poised to enter the cave.  Johnny quickly climbed up to join J.R. at the mouth, observing as had his son that there were no signs of animal presence.  Quickly flashing his light around, the senior Gage spotted what appeared to be a narrow passage at the rear of the cave, slightly to the right and not immediately visible from the mouth.  He heard grunting and complaining as Roy and Chris climbed the face of the bluff to join them inside the small cave. "Gentlemen," Johnny looked at the passage pointedly, "shall we do a little spelunking?"  J.R.'s face showed a restrained eagerness to enter the narrow corridor, Roy's reflected doubt, and Chris' showed something akin to fear.  He didn't like small dark places, but he was darned if he would let J.R. go in without him. Only Johnny and J.R. had flashlights, the other two left theirs in their backpacks down on the trail, so the DeSotos were sandwiched between the two Gages, Johnny taking the lead. At first the passage, though narrow, was level and reasonably smooth.  About thirty feet in, however, it began to descend, becoming slippery as water dripping from the roof of the cave spattered on the floor of the passage.  A few more yards and the ceiling lowered from about ten feet to a mere seven, and then to five and the walls narrowed.  Johnny was beginning to think they would soon have to turn back when the passage opened into a large, rounded vertical shaft, about eight feet in diameter.  Flashing the light around the shaft, Johnny could see another passageway on the other side.  Along the left side of the shaft there were three ledges, like strategicly placed shelves, one at the same level as the place they now stood, one about eye-level, and a third nearly six inches above Johnny's head.  None of them appeared to be wider than ten inches. Johnny hesitated, confident that he could navigate the ledges, but unsure whether the others would want to risk it. "Here, Dad,"  J.R. passed forward one end of the rope he carried on his back, tying the other end around himself.  Johnny grinned and secured the rope around his waist before carefully stepping out onto the ledge as J.R. squeezed past the DeSotos and braced one foot on either wall of the narrow passage for leverage should his father slip. Roy could see a small, steady stream of water falling from the ceiling as it passed through the beam of J.R.'s flashlight on its way to the darkness below.   He glanced nervously as Johnny inched his way along the ledge around the shaft to the passage on the other side, toes pressed against the wall, fingers gripping the ledge above him as he took a step and scooted the flashlight along the shelf in front of his face.  Finally he reached the other side, to the relief of the three men waiting.  Johnny untied the rope and J.R. reeled it in, passing the open end back to Roy, who secured it around his middle. "Okay, my turn," J.R. announced as he handed his flashlight to Chris.  With Roy well able to anchor his weight, which was less than either Johnny's or Chris', J.R. stepped confidently out onto the ledge.  It was harder than it looked, but the challenge started the adrenaline flowing and J.R. cautiously inched his way along the path his father took but a few minutes earlier.  Not having to cope with a flashlight, his path illuminated by his father's light from the other side, J.R. traversed the shelf easily.  When he reached the other side, Johnny pulled him in by the waistband of his jeans.  It was more from affection than from necessity, and J.R. gave him a good-natured grin.  The rope free once again, Roy reeled it in and handed the end to Chris.  J.R.'s flashlight securely in his hip pocket, Chris fought down a feeling of nausea and tied the rope around his waist before stepping timidly out onto the ledge.  When it didn't give way beneath his feet, he managed to make himself move along the shelf, glad for the rope that was tied around his waist.  It seemed like an eternity before he reached the other side where Johnny pulled him in by his jeans, just as he had J.R. After untying the rope from around his middle, Chris handed it to Johnny who secured it around himself.  Then it was Roy's turn. Remembering how he hated heights, he avoided looking down into the abyss and concentrated on reaching the other side, preferably in one piece. As he neared the midpoint, the ledge beneath his left foot began to crumble. Roy tried frantically to move along the fragile shelf before the rest of his foothold collapsed, but was unsuccessful.  With a terrified cry, Roy lost his grip on the upper ledge as the lower one disappeared.  The rope swung in a pendulum fashion as Roy fell toward the darkness below, pulling Johnny forward. The momentum would have pulled Johnny head-first after Roy if he hadn't immediately belly-flopped onto the cave floor.  A direct fall he could have braced and caught, but the swinging motion pulled him off balance.  As Johnny was pulled inexorably toward the shaft, his feet tried to find purchase on the walls of the narrow passage.  The impact of Johnny's forearms slamming painfully into a lip on the edge of the precipice, temporarily stopped his forward slide. "Grab my dad's legs!" J.R. screamed to Chris as the younger Gage threw himself down on top of his father, adding his weight to Johnny's to halt the forward momentum.  Chris grabbed Johnny's ankles and braced his own feet against the walls of the passage, leaning back with all his might. Inching forward along his father's back, J.R. leaned over the ledge and called down, "Are you ok, Mr. DeSoto?  Are you injured?  Can you pull yourself up?" Roy, his diaphragm constricted by the rope around his waist, managed to nod in the affirmative and began hand-over-hand to climb the rope.  As soon as he pulled himself up a little ways, the constriction eased.  His feet found no grip on the nearly smooth vertical sides of the shaft, so it was a tense few minutes before he managed to climb to the point where J.R. could reach his wrists. "Chris, let go of my dad and grab my legs now; we're pulling your father up, but I need your help."  J.R. groaned with the strain of pulling Roy, who outweighed him by a good forty pounds, up to the ledge.  Johnny reached down and placed his hands alongside J.R.'s, lending his strength to the effort. J.R. could feel a pincer grasp on each ankle as Chris took a firm grip and pulled him back. Every muscle screaming, the younger Gage managed to hang on while Chris helped him draw an exhausted Roy DeSoto over the top.  Johnny rolled out of the way just as Roy came onto the ledge.  Two fathers hugged two sons and then each other in a celebration of survival. Hand outstretched to J.R., Chris came toward the older boy.  "You saved my dad's life," he said in a voice hoarse with emotion, "I don't know how to thank you enough." "Hey, that's alright," J.R. said, taking Chris' hand in a firm clasp.  "Besides, you did all the hard work, I was just part of the rope.  I couldn't have pulled him up by myself." "But I panicked," Chris acknowledged shamefacedly, "you knew what to do and did it...that's what made the difference.  By the way, I'm sorry for the way I treated you lately.  I guess I've been pretty stupid this whole trip." "Well, I haven't been any better.  I'm sorry too.  You know, we made a pretty good team up here."  J.R.'s eyes were shining, maybe he and Chris could be friends after all. "We did at that," Chris acknowledged.  "Even Joh...Uncle Johnny did pretty good at holding on while we young guys did all the work." "Hey," Johnny protested, "I'm young, and I took the brunt of the weight first!" Roy finished configuring the rope back into long swags and handed it to J.R. before looking at Johnny's arms.  There were cuts and bruises along his forearms and inside his elbows from the jagged ledge, but there were no breaks or other damage.  John's back was bruised from the sudden pull of the rope against it when it took the full weight of his former partner. Johnny was glad to finally see peace between his son and Roy's.  The makings of a good friendship might have started here in this cave. The next problem was getting out...the way they came in was no longer a viable option.  END OF PART IV the conclusion