Tuesday, June 15th, Afternoon.
The vision disappeared in a moment, after someone stepped in front of Dean and helped him steady his legs and rise to his feet. He was assisted up the slope to the vehicle of a tour monitor and placed in the back seat. There was no sign of Cynthia Byrne or another car. Dean's damaged bike was stowed in the trunk and in a matter of minutes he went from being an integral part of a wide and wonderful biking world to just another simple observer seated behind glass and peeking at life at 50 miles an hour.
Dean strained for a glimpse of the yellow jacket he had pursued so vigorously but either he had missed the rider or the biker had shed the jacket to the warmth of the valley. He was disappointed but it mattered little now he was convinced he knew how to find his quarry. They rolled past South Fork, and 20 miles later, Del Norte, where the lead cadre of bikers hummed their way toward Monte Vista, 14 miles further, and then the final 17 miles to Alamosa. The entire trip took just over an hour with the driver, a volunteer from Amarillo, Texas who never stopping his constant drawl of friendly conversation, little of which Dean heard.
The vehicle contained a roll of gauze and Dean bound his own stiffening leg after spreading a disinfectant on the oozing abrasion. While the limb was sore, the injury was minor. If this had been the Tour de France, he'd still be on the road. Of course the pros had someone shove a new bike under them before they stopped rolling. One look at his bike told him it was unridable.
Dean declined to visit the hospital. He had far more important chores to do. After thanking his benefactor and dropping off his bike for repairs, he stopped for a quick bite to eat. After locating his gear, he found a campsite, showered and changed. Surprisingly, many of the speedier bikers were already there, looking as if they'd spent the day loafing in the late spring sun.
It was only late afternoon and if Dean was right, he had plenty of time to find his prey. He located a public telephone and, with a pocketful of coins, he commenced dialing.
Alamosa was a college town of about 7,000, ringed by a number of motels. Dean spent a pocket full of coins before he found the one housing the person for whom he was searching. He considered calling for a taxicab but when he found the motel was close by he decided to exercise his tightening leg and walk.