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viii

It was early evening by the time Ross and I succeeded in pushing the herd further back on his property. I'd kept my rifle at the ready in case I saw anything that needed shooting. Maybe, I told myself, the higher altitude and rarified air was causing anxiety I wouldn't otherwise have felt. Or maybe it was the isolation of being so far up and perhaps, I considered, some lone wolf, grown larger in necessity to survive, was living up here and we were invading its domain. But why was I spared from its jaws as it circled me the night before? Had it some previous interaction with a human that ended badly? Was it the smell of man that protected me? I didn't know but these thoughts tumbled one over the other the whole day and I was edgy until we finally reached Ross' place.

"I think I'm short a few head," Ross said, easily dismounting, "but maybe they traveled to higher ground or mixed in with your herd."

"Well, if I come across any, I'll whisper to them to go home. Or maybe you can send a crow or the west wind to bring them home, scoop the cattle up in a harmless tornado and drop them on your doorstep." I dismounted, sore from riding all day after such a long time out of the saddle. My legs trembled a bit and I quickly sat on the porch steps and dusted my hat by slapping it on my knees.

Ross chuckled and took both our horse's reins and said, "Go wash up. After I milk the cow and bed these two down, we can eat some dinner and finally get a good night's sleep."

I just raised my hand, too tuckered to say anything. I was so tired I didn't have an appetite although we hadn't eaten since breakfast, but once the food was put before me, I ate.

Ross and I shared the bed and the night passed quickly and was uneventful, or maybe it wasn't and I was so exhausted I slept through bear-like creatures with glowing eyes scratching at the windows to get at us. But I woke to the smell of coffee and bacon sizzling. Ross fed me well, the only way he could repay me, he said as he spooned fried beans onto my plate.

"Well, it was my introduction back into the world of cow shit and a sore crotch. I swear, last night I was beat to the socks." Ross laughed and said I'd been away too long and he was happy I was back. Then we had a serious talk about the wedding and building a bedroom that would eventually become the dining room, onto the main house. I discussed the set of stairs to the second floor as I had drawn it, how it needed two landings. Ross didn't know what to buy or from where or whom and I asked him how much money he had set aside; he just might have to use his savings to provide a home for Dell. I expected Ross to pull out a check ledger or a bank book recording his deposits and withdrawals but he walked over and took a sugar bowl from a high shelf. He brought it to the table and taking off the lid, pulled out a roll of Virginia City and Carson City script.

"That's where you keep all your money?" I asked, aghast. He had more than $200.00 tucked inside.

"Not the coin money. That I keep in an old cigar box."

"What if someone breaks in and steals all your money? All they have to do is look in the sugar bowl and it's gone, boy."

"Adam, if you saw my place, would you think I had any money? And why would someone want to steal what looks to be sugar?"

I only shook my head. Ross had no craftiness or guile about him. We talked, and on the table top, with an old pencil of his, I lightly wrote down all he needed to buy. I said I'd help him add on the next room and then we'd need some men to help with the second floor as the stairs and the roof were the most difficult and required more precision and scaffolding. I explained about the support beams and how the stairwell would function as one. "A house is alive in a manner; it's always moving, shifting on its foundation, settling, and you have to listen to its groans and creaks and recognize bad sounds from good." I told him I'd get back with the date we could start and then, seeing his expression, I knew something was wrong. I decided it had something to do with Delphine.

"When do you plan on the wedding?"

"I don't know but Delphine, she wants us married soon."

"Okay, let me work out my time away from the Ponderosa with my father and I'll get back. Now you need to get that wood and nails, especially those brackets, everything I wrote down, so we can start." And I was rewarded with Ross' wide grin along with his thanks and another scoop of fried beans.

~ 0 ~

My father agreed that once I straightened out the ledger, managed to get it up to date and reconciled with the banks' records, I could take a few men and help Ross. And he'd throw in some of the best pine planks. "The herd'll just be grazing and God knows I don't want to stand in the way of marital happiness!" he said.

"Thanks, Pa, But why do I think the books'll be close to impossible to make right?"

"Because Hoss has been doing them on and off occasionally, especially after I…well, this was my second bout with lumbago this year and both times I had to stay in bed a few days and even after, couldn't sit at the desk for long. He handled the hands' pay and his way of managing the balance, was that if it's a few cents or even a few dollars off, he can't see making a fuss over it. I have no idea how much the ledger's off now and he's written a few drafts that…well, you'll find out soon enough."

I headed for the desk and my father sat down in his favorite chair with a sigh of relief and lit his pipe. He was still wearing his house shoes but he wasn't favoring one leg over the other anymore. He closed his eyes and seemed to relish the silence now that Hoss and Joe were upstairs and Hop Sing was in his quarters behind the kitchen. I smiled to myself; I was flattered my father felt things were now in capable hands. But then he'd paid enough to educate me so I might as well pay him some interest on his investment. I found after flipping through a few pages, that the books were a true puzzle. Hoss had made little notes in the margins and he failed to carry over balances. The stubs with the amount of some drafts hadn't been filled-in and notes were tucked between pages as reminders to list transactions which had never been, at least according to what I could find. In a day or two, I'd have to go to the bank and ask to examine past records; that would not be a welcome request but it was our money and I needed to know.

As I worked, I glanced at my father with his head resting and his eyes closed, wondering if he was asleep but then he lifted up the pipe and took a pull. "Pa, why didn't you ever fool with that mine on Ross' property after you bought it?"

His eyes flew open and he leaned forward a bit to look over at me. "Why? Anything happen?"

"That's an odd question." I stopped writing. "What do you mean by that?"

"I just meant, a cave-in or such." He had been so relaxed and now he practically bristled with tension.

"No, you didn't. What did you mean?"

"Adam, I think I should know what I meant. After all…" He knocked the ashes, the still-burning embers from the pipe bowl into a glass ashtray on the table before him. He looked at me. "That damn cave always…I would get cold chills whenever I was up there; it was like the temperature dropped twenty degrees. Oh, I'd considered mining it. Hell, just looking at it you can see there are some excellent silver veins, probably enough to make a man wealthy as Croesus but the idea of going inside further than just a few feet, well, I just…it wasn't worth it. Besides, I always had a feeling something was living inside, something I didn't want to meet face to face." He looked at me seriously. "How does Ross manage with his house built right next to it."

"You've seen the house?" I asked.

"Well, I've ridden over a few times, took some cakes and bread, you know, items Hop Sing made that were more than what we needed. He is a neighbor, you know, and…and I've always felt a little guilty for selling that tract it to him. I mean I was just happy to get it off my hands but I wonder if I shouldn't have warned him against buying it."

"When you took me up there that time, you pointed out the petroglyphs as if you were educating me on Indian culture, their mythology. You didn't seem to think they were odd then."

"And I also pointed out the danger sign and the abandoned picks and shovels. I always got the feeling those miners couldn't get the hell away fast enough. Besides, what could I tell you, that the place scared me, gave me chills? That's just foolish talk and…and there was a good chance the place would collapse on itself anyway."

I flipped the pencil between my fingers so I didn't have to look at my father but when I did, he was staring into the fire. "I suggested Ross blow up the mine and find the silver in the rubble but he didn't want to destroy the drawings," I said.

"They should be destroyed," my father said, almost whispering.

"Why? They're just pictures."

My father turned to me, his eyes blazing. "No, they're not just pictures, they're…they're a type of magic to call forth those creatures!"

"What?" I was stunned. My rational, serious, down-to-earth father couldn't possibly believe such things. "Do you really believe what you're saying?"

He sat back, almost collapsing against the cushions "No, no, but sometimes the stories the Indians shared… I've heard them, been with the Paiutes around their fire, smoked their pipes with them, listened to their chants, taken part in them, sang the words with them and became as entranced as all the braves, Adam, I've seen things called forth from the other side that every man should fear. They crawled out of the darkness and waited, crouching, waiting for the fire to go out but it was fed until sunrise and by then, they were gone."

I said no more, just looked down at the page of lines and numbers that jumped about before my eyes. Even they made no sense. My father rose and told me goodnight and said not to work too late; the ledger would still be the same in the morning as I left it tonight.

"You mean none of the brownies Mrs. McPherson on the wagon train used to tell me about are going to come tip-toeing in and reconcile these books? Think I should leave out a bowl of cream for them just in case?"

My father stopped halfway up the stairs and then turned his head to look at me. He smiled and chuckled. "No, no cream. And no trolls or goblins are waiting outside either. At least I hope not." He shook his head and continued on his way upstairs to bed but I sat looking across the room at the fire until it finally died down. I stood up, stretched, and turned to close the curtains of the high window behind me and I saw a man in the yard—I swear it was a man with two arms and two legs but he had to look at me sideways because his eyes were on either side of his head; he had an elk's head and huge, branched antlers sprouted from it. A thick fur ruff was about his neck in a V and thick hair covered his lower body except for his hanging genitals. I stared at the man, the creature, whatever it was. My holster was by the door—I had to get my gun and go outside. I was certain what I thought I saw was nothing more than an elk that had traveled far for better grazing. Wasn't it? I stepped away from the window, went and slipped my gun from the holster and opened the front door.

It was still there and turned its head at the sound of the opening door and then, seeing me, it bounded away in the manner of an elk but…on two legs. I stared into the blackness. What the hell was wrong with me? My father's talk about creatures from the dark side along with the large wolf tracks the previous night had infected me and I was having hallucinations; that was the answer. Yes, I had seen my own reflection in the window pane and it had merged with the elk's. Yes, of course. And suddenly I recalled the petroglyphs—the elk man carved into the rock, the wolfen creature. Yes, that was it. I was more tired than I realized and my under-stimulated mind, so used to studying and reading and tussling in Lurene's bed, was now running amuck. I was creating all these things; they weren't real, I told myself. And that night in my bedroom, I fought the childish urge to leave the lamp on while I slept to keep away the bugaboos. But I slept poorly, waking in a cold sweat with a damp pillow after dreaming of Lurene with an elk's head on her shoulders but her lush woman's body offering itself to me. And as tempting as that was, I was too struck with fear to take her.

At first sunrise, before Joe rose to muck out the barn, I quickly dressed and walked out into the yard, looking about. I sucked in my breath. There they were, large cloven tracks in the yard but not tracks a four-footed creature would leave—the synchrony was off. My pulse beat in my ears. There had been something odd there…something… My mind wouldn't behave, wouldn't recall the memory, but I knew…I had heard talk of similar tracks. But where?