The Day the Solar Panels Arrived

And all metal was removed from near the vortex

Lucas walked down the sloped pasture towards Steve who was working on dismantling the barbed-wire fence. It felt so good walking over land that he owned. Of course, he knew that the whole concept of land ownership is an illusion. We cannot own the planet. We are merely guests in HER parlor.

Still, it felt good.

“How’s it going Steve?”

Steve turned around to face Lucas, “Fine and dandy. Piece of cake.”

“Got all the tools you need?”

“Yup. Pliers, a long screw driver, claw, hammer. That’s all I need.” Steve twirled his claw tool in his hand like a pistol.

“Good. Now I want to reiterate that we need to put all those u-shaped nail thingies and all metal in that box there. We’ve got to be sure not to drop any metal onto the ground and when you’re done walk the line to make sure there is absolutely no metal left on the ground. There can be no metal this close to the vortex. And the barbed-wire you can just bundle up and put it up by my car. I’ll take it to be recycled the next time I drive to the city.”

“Actually, I’ve got a friend, Gilberto, who makes barbed-wire art. He lives just over in Rattlesnake Junction. If you don’t mind I could bring him the barbed-wire. He prefers using very old barbed-wire that has been out in the elements for years rather than brand new barbed-wire.”

“Oh, sure. Hey, that sounds perfect. Barbed-wire art, huh?”

“Yeah. It’s pretty rad. It probably comes across as a little angry to some people but I think it actually has a soft and soothing effect.

“Kind of like cacti.”

Steve waved the claw through the air, “Nope, I don’t like cactus. No sirree. When I was a kid these boys pushed me into a giant cholla cactus. Those cacti have barbed needles that, once they pierce the skin, they latch on. I had to strip naked so that my mother could carefully pull out over 300 cactus needles out of the back of my neck, my back, my butt, and the backs of my legs. I couldn’t sit or lay on my back for a week. Cacti are NOT my friends.”

“Oh, well that is truly a shame. I happen to be a cactus freak. I have always loved cacti. I once hugged a cactus without ever getting pricked.”

“Really? What were you on?”

Lucas laughed, “Nothing. Anyway I was talking with some of the crew putting up the solar panels and one guy told me he started at 22 bucks an hour and he said they are always looking for more workers. So if you’re ever looking for more steady work you could probably find it with them.”

Steve tossed the claw tool on the ground, “Sorry, but that is absolutely out of the question.”

“Oh?”

“Listen, I’ll do all sorts of grunt work. I’ll do construction, cement work, fence building, sheep herding, I’ll plow a field, I’ll clean out a chicken coup or barn, I’ll do paving work… Heck, I’ll even dig ditches but the one thing I refuse to do is any kind of roof work. Sorry. Can’t and won’t do it.”

“Fear of heights?”

“Yeah, but it’s really weird. I only have a fear of heights when I am on a man-made structure like the roof of a house or on a bridge or in a plane. I do a lot of hiking and mountain climbing. I climbed Wheeler Peak when I was sixteen. I could be out in the wilderness standing on an 18 inch ledge looking out over a 500 foot vertical drop off and guess what? I have no fear of heights whatsoever. Put me on a one-story roof and I’m shaking in fear. It’s weird. Like I said, I only get that crippling fear of heights when I’m on a man-made structure. I’m totally cool with jagged mountains.”

“Wow. That is… uh… different. I wonder if there is a word for that.”

“Probably. But you’ll never catch me close enough to a shrink to find out.”

“You know what comes to mind? Those Native Americans — the Mohawks maybe? — who were hired to help build skyscrapers in New York City because they had no fear of heights.”

“Well I ain’t no Indian.”

Just then Lucas’ cellphone began ringing, “I’ll let you get back to work. I’m going to take this call.”

Walking away towards the creek Lucas answered the phone, “Amanda! Hello.”

“Good morning Lucas. I thought I’d call and fill you in on what I found out about that land west of your property. No, it is not BLM land or Forest Service land. It is privately owned land that is currently owned by the Lucero family. Get this: The land has been in the Lucero family for like four hundred years! It was originally part of a Spanish Land Grant given to some guy named Lucero way back in the sixteen hundreds — that’s before America was even a country!”

“Now the Lucero family is considered wealthy but they don’t have a lot of money. All their wealth is in land. The original land grant was pretty huge but over the many years the family has sold off scattered parcels of land when they needed to raise money. So now that huge square chunk of land is like a checkerboard that is missing about a third of it squares. Anyway, all that land to the west of your property as well as all the land south of the creek is Lucero land. Were you interested in trying to purchase some of that land?”

“No. Maybe. I don’t know. Are they selling any land right now?”

“Nope. They’ve got nothing listed right now. But we can always make an offer.”

“No. No. I need to learn more.”

“Lucas, you know when the King of Spain issued a land grant he basically drew a square on a map. He had very little idea of what the land was like and he certainly had no idea if any of that land was sacred to local Indians. Much of the Lucero land grant contains wild and rugged country that is not suitable for building or farming. Most of the land they’ve sold over the years is in the valleys between the hills. That’s where someone could buy some land from the Luceros and build a little farm or orchard or something. No one wants to buy the inaccessible lands.”

“I see. So were there any sacred Indian sites in the land grant?”

“Well, supposedly there are two sites, one of which is in that little canyon to the west of your property. I’m not sure where the other one is. But what I hear from a friend is that the Luceros and some local Apache tribe have been feuding for like 400 years. The Native Americans want access to their sacred sites and the Luceros didn’t want Indians on the land that was given them by the King of Spain. They go back and forth between feuding and stretches of peace.”

“Oh, and guess what? My friend tells me that that little canyon to the west of your property has a curse. I don’t know what the hell that means but that is why nobody goes down there. Weird, huh?”

“Uh… yeah… Amanda, thank you so much for that information. I’m going to have to do some research and if you find anything else out I’d appreciate it if you let me know.”

“My pleasure. And if you decide you want to buy something just give me a ringy-ding-ding.”

“Okay. Thanks Amanda.”

Lucas turned off his phone and put it in his back pocket. He then walked over to a barbed-wire-free fence post that marked the edge of his property. Resting one hand on the wooden post, he stared deeply into that little canyon carved by the creek out of the hillsides to the west. He decided that after Steve and the solar panel workmen left for the day he would take a little walk down there.

Copyright by White Feather. All Rights Reserved. This is a work of fiction. Complete Writings of White Feather

Previous Lucas Winslow Stories: Episode One: The Silent Teacher Episode Two: A Place To Live and Die Episode Three: The First Time Steve Showed Up Episode Four: The Lay of the Land Episode Five: Lunch at the Rattlesnake Diner Episode Six: The Day the Park Benches Arrived

Go to the next episode: Episode Eight: The Mystery of the Crying Woman