The canyon would be tough going. The river turned into boulder-strewn rapids and steep rocky cliffs. Not a good place for a person to go alone. That’s where my grandfather had fallen and broken his ankles. A man in there alone hurt could easily die if he got into trouble. Sam seemed hardy enough, but he was in his sixties. And he would be carrying all that gear by himself. I was still angry, but I didn’t want to think I was willfully putting him in danger because of a temper tantrum over a pistol that didn’t mean much to me any way.
I tried to remember how much further it was past the canyon until I’d reach the town of Fire Gulch. I knew the canyon was at least a day’s hike, but after that I wasn’t sure what the river looked like. I thought Fire Gulch was ten miles or so past the end of the canyon, but my map was at the bottom of the Adamantine along with my back pack. And I didn’t know what the terrain would be like after the canyon either.
And even though I felt like Sam had a good heart and good intentions being around him with all the weird stuff happening was scary as well. I began to think maybe I was following a mad monk, a sorcerer of crazy logic. I couldn’t deny what I’d experienced. Whatever explanation I tried to give it, scientific, psychological, or mystical, these things over the past few days had happened to me. Sam opened a new world with strange doors. Sometimes it was wonderful and sometimes terrifying, but I didn’t want to close any of them. There was a deep depth inside me that I could feel and touch. Sam had shown me how to uncover the layers of denial that I’d buried it under. I needed to go further. But, then again, I thought, maybe he’s just a lonely old man who happened to be out here in the desert camping when a lot of strange stuff is happening to me.
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