Finally! The End! I tried to make this a story more about individuals, their struggles and basic humanity than about the occult. I hope I succeeded but, hey, you never know! Thanks for those who are reading to the bitter end!
xiv
I had been home from college less than a year, when Hoss spoke up at dinner after my father asked what was bothering him. All of us, including Hop Sing, knew Hoss was either ill or was dealing with a serious issue because he was only pushing the food about his plate instead of eating it. He was usually taking second helpings while the rest of us were only halfway through our first and usually, only, servings.
"Pa, someone's livin' in that line shack over by Coyote Canyon."
"Well, get rid of them," my father stated. "Now eat your dinner. It's a sin to waste food." My father went back to his but Hoss, his face grim, picked up a fried chicken leg, stared at it, and let it drop. Hop Sing, who liked to see the food he had so lovingly prepared, enjoyed, especially by Hoss, furrowed his brow as to him, this was tragic.
"I can't eat, Pa. It's been preyin' on my mind somethin' awful."
"Oh? And just what exactly is troubling you so much?" My father was not patient with this type of thing as people often tried to claim sections of the Ponderosa as their own and we ran squatters off a few times a year, most of the time, peaceably.
Hoss looked at me for help but before I could support him, he blurted out, "Cause he says the land is his. When I told 'im it was our land, the Ponderosa, and the line shack was ours, that we built it and stocked it for ranch hands, he only nodded and just kept sittin' on the porch, payin' me no nevermind."
What?" My father put down his fork. "His land? Did you give him a trespass warning?"
"No, sir. Well, in a way, I did, but…." Hoss toyed with his buttered mashed potatoes, raking his fork over them and leaving tracks through the mound. "He was done talkin' to me and didn't say no more so's I left."
"Done talking. Since when…Adam, tomorrow, I'd like you to go with Hoss and show him how to evict squatters. His land indeed."
Hoss, peeking up from his plate, added, "He's an Injun, Pa."
My father looked surprised and then muttered something about Bannock land and treaties but he said no more. The next morning, Hoss and I rode to Coyote Canyon, the Ponderosa land deed in my saddlebags, and I met Samuel Ten Trees. As I said, that was quite a time ago but Ten Trees still lives in the line shack on the land that I ceded to him, much to my father's outrage. But as I explained, we had taken the land from the Bannocks and what would it hurt to allow Ten Trees to live there? I had no idea how old he was, I explained, but old, he was and wouldn't live for more than another ten to fifteen years—twenty at the most. So, my father grumbled and complained he should have gone himself but I knew he wouldn't have been able to uproot Ten Trees from the shack either.
So, after praying with the reverend, I decided Ten Trees may be able to explain more about what was happening to Ross Marquette than anyone else could. So, taking off, I rode almost three hours to Coyote Canyon and Ten Trees. I hoped, after this unplanned detour, there'd still be time to help with branding. When I approached the line shack, Ten Trees was carrying an armful of wood, his battered cowboy hat low over his eyes and wearing a faded plaid work-shirt, buckskin trousers and moccasins. I always assumed that with the ease he spoke English and the manner of his dress that Ten Trees had either worked on ranches or scouted for the army but I never asked and he never volunteered.
I dropped Scout's reins near the trough and respectfully took off my hat.
"Afternoon, Samuel Ten Trees. Beautiful day, isn't it?" Ten Trees was tall, thin, his now iron-grey hair divided into two long braids. His face was weather-beaten and cross-hatched with deep lines about his eyes, mouth and across his hollow cheeks.
He dropped the armful of wood by the chopping stump and wiped his hands on his trousers. He looked up at the sun. "The sun is not yet in the west; it is not afternoon, but it is always a good day to see a friend. If you have come to visit, sit." He gestured toward the two chairs on the porch; usually there was only one.
"Two chairs this morning," I remarked, as I took one.
"The crow saw you coming. He let me know." I refrained from rolling my eyes as I didn't want to hear any more about talkative crows. Ten Trees sat. "There is fresh water." He nodded toward a bucket between the chairs. "Please take what you require. There is a pot of beans inside should you have hunger."
"Thank you," I said, leaning over for the ladle hanging on the side. "I would accept your food but my family will wait dinner for me and I better have an appetite when I get there or our cook will give me what-for." He just nodded but I saw the irony in his offering me food that we Cartwrights provided; Hoss still kept the line shack well-stocked just as he and the hands stocked all the others and the beans on the stove were probably from the general store in town. Once the ladle was full, I stood up, leaned out and spilled a bit on the ground. He looked at me. "For those who came before." I swear he smiled, but with him, you never knew.
"My ancestors, whose blood was spilled on this land, thank you." And he looked out into the yard. He was a crafty old man and knew the effects of his words; he was restating his ancestral claim on the property just in case I had any doubts.
I returned the ladle and after a few seconds, said, "I have a serious issue to discuss with you, Samuel Ten Trees. I know so very little about such things. Your knowledge of the hidden is greater than mine; I am ignorant." My heart thudded at the thought of Delphine and Ross and the Deer Woman, the Elk Man and all the other creatures carved into the rock face that now seemed to have been released upon mankind. I didn't think Ten Trees was going to respond, but he finally did.
"What is it you want to discuss?"
"First, the Deer Woman. I have seen her." I waited again for his response while he considered his words.
"There is a story about Deer Woman, an old legend. She is beautiful with large dark eyes, the eyes of a deer. She watches the man she wants, always just outside of a man's sight, often appearing as nothing more than a moving shadow. If that is all of her presence a man sees, it is good. It is when she stands in his sight and takes away his will that bad things happen."
"Such as what?"
"It is said she causes desire in a man, couples with him and then tramples him to death. His pummeled corpse is a gift to the crows as the soft insides become the outside. It rids the world of another lustful, evil man. It is also said she is looking for her mate among humans, searching for the one to father her offspring. But these are just stories told many times over to warn men against spreading their seed widely. Perhaps she is not what you saw. Perhaps you only saw a deer." But he wouldn't look at me and his face was stiff.
"It was no deer. She took my hand. I felt her skin and caught her wild, arousing scent." Ten Trees sat, not moving, but he still didn't look at me. "I've also seen a larger creature with an elk's head and ruff on a man's torso but with furred legs and hooves where feet should be. And then there were tracks of a huge wolf-like creature that seems to walk only on its hind feet. Do you know of these beings? Can you tell me of them?" I barely breathed, waiting.
"As a child, as all Bannock children were, I was told stories of creatures from the dark. They frightened me. Our elders told us these things to keep us from harm, to make us aware of the evils in the world and the forms they take. I have seen actual things, massacres and destruction, that should have surpassed any terror I was told in a story. But these creatures in the stories were from a time of the first people so far ago as to be forgotten except that each generation passes them on from elder to child. These stories came from those before who well knew what abominations live not only in the shadow world but also exist within ourselves and from which we must always be on alert."
"Yes," I said, leaning toward him, "I want to know about these things. I need to. There's a cave up in the high country with these creatures carved into the rock but it seems they're becoming real, alive and the large, wolf-like creature seems to be…" Ten Trees stopped me with a look.
"It is not good to speak of the one who releases all the others. Be careful what you say or you may draw it forth and it will bring the others."
"What one? Who do you mean?"
Ten Trees sighed deeply before he continued. "These are things that outsiders should not be told but I will share with you despite. Of late, I have seen many creatures from the darkness, the ones you mentioned but I am old and am not who they seek; Deer Woman has no interest in me, in my wilted manhood, and Elk Man has no reason to fear me as I have no power to destroy him. But you are young and potent so you are an enemy. But their appearance means the end is near; they are rising and must be stopped. They are walking about, looking to destroy what is good in man, woman, child. I have been wondering who has called them forth, who has released them. Only a shaman, a healer can control the evil that is always looking for an opening through which to pass but there must have been a ceremony or attempt at healing of a spirit that allowed them to escape from where they have been held for many generations."
"A portal from the other side, like a dark gate," I said more to myself than Ten Trees. He looked at me and almost imperceptibly nodded.
"I must warn you, Adam Cartwright, one cannot speak the name of the ultimate evil or it will visit itself upon you."
"Speak of the devil…" I said under my breath. He looked at me. "It's a saying we have: Speak of the devil and you'll see his tail."
"Yes," he said, nodding. "It is so with this…devil. There is one loose who is powerful enough to walk into the skin of an animal, occupy the body of the creature and make it larger, more deadly and cruel. But it is done slowly, step by step until nothing remains of the animal's spirit, the body consumed fully with the evil one. The past nights I have seen its red eyes outside my windows, smelled the stench of death surrounding it."
"This thing, how does it come into existence?" The story of Paradise Lost, of Satan possessing the body of the snake, the most "subtile" of creatures, and seducing Eve into sin came back to me, of how Lucifer, as vapor or a dark mist, entered the mouth of the sleeping serpent. Smoke. Delphine had mentioned Ross being surrounded by smoke and seeming to change shape. But Paradise Lost was a work of fiction and I held that much of the Bible is as well. What was happening to me and my rationality? But I had seen these creatures. They existed. The beautiful, seductive Deer Woman with the cloven feet, the Elk Man that put me in mind of the mythological Minotaur. Maybe my over-educated mind was creating these creatures and I was simply going mad.
"Often," Ten Tres said, "this spirit is that of a shaman who has broken a taboo, done something unthinkable, unforgiveable. Then, among his tribe, he loses his position as a human and is sent away-shunned. Now he is cursed, no longer a man, only a faceless and wracked spirit with no desire but to command evil. But to do so, it must take the shape of another—it must have sinews and physical strength. Once they have merged, both the evil spirit and the other's body become one and as such, are difficult to destroy."
"Can this…disgraced shaman take possession of a man?" I waited as Ten Trees considered. He must have been silent for over a minute before he turned to me and spoke.
"If a man permits himself to be spiritually open, waiting for direction and does not have the protection of a healer or shaman, then it can be done. Just as with any other possessed creature, it is done slowly, the way night overtakes the day until all is dark."
"How can this creature be killed?"
"I do not know that it can." Ten Trees stood and looked about and added, "Take care, Adam Cartwright. It will be dark in a few hours." He turned and went into the line shack and closed the door behind him. It was obvious I was on my own.
~ 0 ~
Almost half the work day was over when I arrived at the branding site. My father, the other ranch hands as well as Hoss, Joe and Sheriff Coffee, stood about the fire. They silently watched as I rode up and dismounted.
"What's going on? Seems to be more people than cattle." I said, walking over. Hoss dropped his eyes and Joe studied the scuffed toe of one boot.
"That's truer than you know," my father said. I saw a board with the Ponderosa brand burned into it lying on the ground.
Sheriff Coffee spoke up. "I've got bad news for you, Adam, and it's about your friend Ross Marquette."
"What about him?" I suddenly felt rising anxiety.
My father picked up a crude branding iron with the Silver Dollar brand that had been heating in the fire. "Lon and Whitey found this in the northeast pasture up near Ross' land. Now I know why we've lost so many cattle." He picked up the iron and after aligning the top with the Ponderosa brand on the board, lowered it to burn the Silver Dollar brand over the Ponderosa pine; the transformation was amazing. On the flank of a steer, there would be no obvious evidence the brand had been changed, the cattle rustled.
"I don't believe it," I said.
"It's right here before your very eyes, Adam. You can't deny what you can see. We're riding up to the Silver Dollar now to confront Ross. I'd like you to come in case…well, having you among us might help keep a lid on things." my father said.
"I will, but, Pa, let Ross explain before you rush to judgment." He and Roy Coffee looked at one another and then my father nodded to me, his mouth grim.
We mounted up, leaving the ranch hands behind to brand any more unmarked calves they could find. We rode quickly but once at the Silver Dollar, we dismounted and cautiously approached the house and the bunk house, spreading out. The house appeared empty but I had been fooled before. And just like the other day, there was total silence, no birdsong nor wind rustling any leaves. That is until Joe yelped as if he'd seen a coiled rattler. We ran over but Joe had already turned away, gone off a few steps, and vomited in the dirt. I could see why he had as my father gasped, "Oh, my God!"
A man, at least the shape was a man's, was on the ground on the far side of the bunkhouse, his face nothing but a bloody, pulpy mess, his chest crushed and gory, broken ribs protruding from the purpled skin, his heart visible, and his body battered. Broken, bloody teeth, some with jaw bone segments still attached, were spewed about as if knocked or kicked out of his mouth.
"Look at that," Sheriff Coffee said, shaking his head, squatting and pointing. "Those oval blows were made by deer hooves—see the cleft? No, larger than a deer, like elk hooves. Now, why would an elk want to stomp him to death?"
Joe had recovered but stood off. He didn't want to chance having his gorge rise again.
"Roy," my father said, "didn't Delphine's father die this way? Wasn't his chest crushed in this way?"
"Yes, that's right," Roy said, standing up and pulling on his ear thoughtfully. "Seems mighty odd, Ben, that some rogue elk would come this far and then attack people so far apart in time."
"Pa! Roy!" Hoss called from a few yards off. "There's another body over here, layin' face-down, almost as bad. Looks like he was hit from behind. The whole back of his head's been crushed and his brains is all over the place while his back's been split down the spine, his ribs nothin' but splinters!"
Suddenly I thought of Dell. If there were truly evil creatures set loose in our corner of the world, and since she had already been a victim once, she might be again. I mounted up and as everyone else studied the bodies, discussing if they should hitch the horses in the barn to the buckboard and take the bodies to the doctor or just bury them on site, I rode for home.
~ 0 ~
The front door was open and Delphine was lying near the door. The grandfather clock had been knocked over and a chair tossed a few yards. The settee was askew, the Indian rug bunched under its legs. I kneeled beside Dell, cradling her in my arms; she was still breathing.
"Adam," she managed to utter.
"Don't talk, Delphine. We're going to Dr. Martin. I just have to hitch up the buckboard so you can lie in the back."
"No." She weakly grasped my arm. "He tried to save me." She was desperately trying to breathe and I saw the bruises and bloody cuts in the shape of deer hooves, the ovoid cloven form, on her chest. "Ross tried to save me from her, from the Deer Woman." She gasped. "But then, he changed. Before my eyes he changed into…into something evil, something without his face. It wasn't him anymore. Oh, Adam…what did I do? What happened to…" And Delphine's breath rattled in her throat. Then she was silent, only staring with open, empty eyes.
I tried to rouse her, lightly slapped her cheek. I didn't want to accept she was dead but she was. I picked her up. I couldn't leave her on the floor. She was so slender, so light. I carried her up the stairs and placed her on the guest bed. I pulled the folded blanket at the end of the bed, up and over her. "I'm so sorry, Dell. So sorry."
Once back downstairs, I pulled a higher caliber rifle out of the cabinet and opening the drawer, pulled out cartridges, loaded the rifle and dropped extras in my dungaree pockets. The key to the ammo shed was sitting there as well. I stared at it, then slipped it into another pocket.
I rode Scout to the ammo shed which was about two miles from the house. I picked up a few sticks of dynamite, some fuses, and put them in my saddlebags. Then I took to the high country where Ross' herd usually wandered and I caught a few tracks, what looked a bit like bare footprints which became huge wolf tracks with large claws and then, a few hundred yards further, back into human. Keeping their distance were deer tracks and elk tracks, or what I assumed by their size were elk tracks, but they were set the way a human walks, striding. I slowly followed, walking Scout higher and higher until I was in rocky terrain. Night was coming on, that twilight time when edges soften and the border of fantasy and reality blurs. Scout was losing his footing, slipping and causing rocks to come loose. He was becoming panicky so, for both our safety, I dismounted and went on my way alone. I was wary, looking about and then, there on the crest of a ridge, was Ross, the orange sky behind him casting him in shadow. He was as naked as the day he was born and held no weapon.
"Adam, I knew you'd come because I knew you'd find Delphine. I tried to save her, Adam, but…." And as I watched, he changed. He grew taller but hunched, as if poised to attack. His arms lengthened, curved claws extended his fingers and toes, hair grew longer from his arms, legs and chest, and his sex hung lower and larger while his face became dark and featureless, his voice harsh and rough. "I am forever. I have been waiting to be released from my prison. This human has allowed me entry into the world again and now that I am here, that we are here, we will destroy you and take what is our due."
I pointed my rifle and fired. Nothing happened except for a slight movement from the creature; it had absorbed the bullet with no ill effects. Then behind this creature, coming over the back of the rise, was the Deer Woman and the Elk Man. They began to approach me and so did this perverted creature that had once been Ross. I backed up, trying to maintain my footing but rubble from their approaching steps kept showering down on me. Then suddenly, the creature faded and Ross was back.
"Shoot me, Adam!" he pleaded. "It can't be killed but I can! Shoot me! Kill me!"
"I can't, Ross. Please, I can't just shoot…" But I should have, should have pulled the trigger right then because the repulsive creature that had slipped into Ross' skin and corrupted him was back, slavering over the coming kill. And the three creatures began to approach again, slowly but relentlessly, their hooves and the nails of the creature beating a tattoo on the rocks.
I looked behind me. It seemed a mist was rising from the earth I slipped on the rocks, sliding a way down and scraping the skin on my arm as I wouldn't release the rifle. I hurried to regain my footing and once I stood again, I saw Ross, like a pale shadow, show himself, look imploringly at me and then, the faceless horror was back. I raised my rifle and called out, "Ross! Just once more! Fight it! Come back!" I waited while the three nightmare visions came closer and then, once again, barely perceptible, Ross showed himself and I fired.
I met my family halfway home as I walked back with Ross tied over Scout's saddle; they had come looking for me.
"Adam? We saw Dell at the house and…." He saw Ross. "What in God's name is happening around here?" my father asked.
"Not now, Pa, not now." My father placed a comforting hand on the back of my neck and whispered he was sorry. He and I tied Ross, wrapped in Hoss's jacket, onto Joe's horse. Joe was the only one slight enough to ride behind the saddle with a body strapped over it.
"I think it may all be over now, Pa. At least it will be when I finish what I have to do." I pulled the last knot tight and then stepped away. "I'll be home in a while. I have one more thing to do to make things right. Just take care of Ross and Delphine. Now they'll be together and at peace." I knew I'd have to explain matters but not yet as I wasn't sure about the end.
I rode back to the Silver Dollar. It was dark but the moon was bright that evening and the sky, clear and sparkling with stars; the mist was gone. The two ranch hands' bodies were also gone. Sheriff Coffee must have taken them to town as I saw no mounds of dirt to indicate burial. I glanced about the place as I tied off my horse, listening. I pulled the sticks of dynamite and fuses from my saddlebags and headed to the cave. I would like to say I wasn't afraid but I was. What I still had to do wasn't just for me but for Ross, for Delphine, and for the world I knew. A piece of rope lay nearby and I used it to tie the sticks of dynamite together and placed a fuse in the middle; one was all I needed. I lit the fuse, listening to it sizzle, and stepped inside the cave's mouth. I lobbed the dynamite into the blackness before turning to run. A few yards away, I waited and watched, my breath coming hard and fast. The blast blew hot air and rubble out so far I had to cross my arms over my face for protection and then I looked and saw the whole mountainside collapse, belching rocks and dust and debris. Finally, all was silent again.
I turned to go back to my horse, truly exhausted. But as I passed the barn, I heard the cow lowing, one last remnant of Ross' humanity. I would bring her to the Ponderosa, I decided, but it was a long, slow trip in the dark. I shook my head and laughed at my foolishness as I tossed some hay into her feed trough, then pulled the stool and milk pail over and sitting down, resting my head against the warmth of the cow's flank, milked her. The sound of the milk streams hitting the tin, that smell of warm milk rising from the pail was life. Yes. This was normal. This was how things were supposed to be. Not out hunting down otherworldly creatures, but milking cows, herding cattle, laughing with friends and family. And I began to cry. The cow, munching the hay, turned to look at me. "It's okay, girl," I said looking at her soft eyes. "It's okay now." She seemed to understand.
The next day, I told Sheriff Coffee about shooting Ross, my father sitting beside me in the office looking worried. It was just procedure. I related the events, not as they actually were but how they should have been—logical and realistic. Obviously, Sheriff Coffee said, telling most of the story for me, Ross was mad—pounded his hired hands to death with some ranching tool, before stripping off his clothes in some unknown place to rid himself of the bloody evidence and then going out into the hills naked. Coffee didn't even ask me about Ross having a weapon; he had seen Delphine's body at the undertakers. A man who could do that to a woman, well, he was dangerous and would kill whomever crossed his path.
But I didn't tell either of them about the Elk Man and the Deer Woman; there was no need. Both my father and the sheriff assumed—or chose to believe—the animal tracks on the mutilated bodies were made later by, well, Coffee said, there was no explaining animal behavior.
~ 0 ~
I still think about shooting Ross. While he had reached out his arms to me, I fired and the creature shrieked, both in pain and despair; it reverberated in the air like an echo. Then, the Elk Man and the Deer Woman seemed to dissolve into dust and were blown away by the wind that had suddenly picked up. In the rising mist and falling darkness, all that was left was Ross, lying on the rocky ground. I kneeled beside him and as I had Dell, I cradled him in my arms, and taken his hand in mine.
"Thank you, Adam…thank you for saving me." And Ross tried to smile, to let me know he was there with me. "I'm so cold. Hold me tighter, Adam. I don't want to leave." I did. I gripped his hand, held him to me, burying my face in his hair and slowly, my friend died. And part of me did as well.
~ Finis ~
