On the Mountain (2 page)

A small flat building was situated closest to where she crouched, while two larger barns sat to the far side of the property.  Out behind them were three holding pens, a corral, and two paddocks where she saw a lone bull sleeping leisurely in the morning sun.  But there was no other sign of life.

She moved forward and only paused when she heard a sound.  It took a moment before she recognized the squawk of a chicken.  Moving closer, she saw them appear in a large pen sandwiched between the first and second building.  There must have been fifty or more.

Her eyes widened automatically as she realized how terribly hungry she was and felt the first cold shudder ripple across her half-naked form.  She turned her head toward the house to ensure there was still no one about.  The fact there was livestock on the property indicated the place wasn’t abandoned as she initially assumed.  Since the chimney showed no sign of smoke, she guessed the owners were not home, however knew someone was sure to be around to tend the animals.

A chicken squawked loudly, startling her and letting her know she had been spotted.  Drawing her attention to the area surrounding the pen, she noticed a door slightly ajar in the barn closest to the coop.  She made her way toward the entrance, stopping every so often to listen for movement.

When she felt it safe to continue, she moved forward and slid quietly out of sight and into the sanctuary of the barn.  There was no sound from within, leaving her to wonder if she had been heard and someone was waiting to spring on her.  But a greater fear forced her onward.  She needed to find a place to hide away unnoticed.

It was dim inside so she allowed the few minutes needed to allow her pupils to dilate.  There was a strong musty smell in the barn as she entered an area used to store horse equipment.  Against the one wall were large storage bins piled high, while overhead an assortment of leather straps and halters hung on wooden pegs.

A chill unexpectedly ran down her back and the woman looked around for a blanket to warm herself.  She found one easily enough folded on a nearby crate.  Lying next to it was a knife.  Without hesitation, she snatched it up, holding it defensively against her chest while her eyes darted about the room.  There was evil nearby.  She could feel it.

Shooting into a corner furthest from the door, she curled up into a ball and stared hard at the entrance, the knife clutched between her breasts.  Silence filled the barn.  She waited in that position at length until at last she began to relax.

Next to her she spotted a large bag of potatoes, which the knife was obviously meant to peel.  She snatched one up and ate it vigorously.  She had never thought she had ever tasted anything so wonderful in her life.  Except perhaps chicken.

They had so many.  She doubted they would even notice if one went missing.  She polished off the potato before pulling the blanket closer and headed toward the exit once more.  Something reached out and touched her cheek.  She spun around, jabbing the air with the knife, causing some hard crusted strands of hair to whip across her cheek.

Nobody was there.  With a start she realized her mud encased hair had been the culprit.  Lifting the knife in one hand and her hair in the other she sliced away until the long strands fell to the floor.

Without giving it any further thought, she dropped the blanket, took a cautious step outside, looked around thoroughly, then slid inside the chicken coop.  Like a lioness she watched her prey with intent eyes and moved ever so slowly and quietly inside the pen.  Surprisingly, they did not so much as make a fuss.  Almost as if granting her permission.  The woman smiled, then leaped, catching a bird in her first attempt.

Only then did the chickens begin to squawk, the one in her arms the loudest, but with a quick thrust of the blade she silenced him forever.  She felt the squirt of its blood explode on her hands the same moment she felt its small body go lifeless.

A flash of memory.  A momentary numbness.  Her chest squeezed as if her internal organs were wrapping themselves around her lungs.  Panic started to rise.  Then it stopped.

Quickly, she slipped out of the pen and back to her hiding spot in the barn with her prey.  The blade was sharp as it easily tore the bird apart.  She devoured the creature with delight.  It did not take long for her to consume the animal in its entirety, minus the bones and feathers, and satisfy her empty stomach.  Helping herself to another potato before drawing the blanket close, she searched out a corner to curl up into.

She sat there for what seemed like eternity, not making a sound until eventually the mud on her ragged clothing grew hard.  Instinctively, she removed what was left of her tattered clothing to cuddle naked under the warmth of the blanket.  Just for a little while, she told herself.  Just long enough for her body temperature to return to normal. 

To be sure, she tucked her clothes beneath the floorboard of her hiding spot.   If the owners were to return unexpectedly, she did not want any trace of her being there.

Chapter 2

“Haddock!”  Joe Shelby, lead ranch hand, called out to him from the far side of the barns.  Glancing over he noticed the man gesturing for him.

Handing his reins over to Chuck Rhodes, he wondered what Joe wanted and hoped it wouldn’t take long.  He wanted to take a fresh bath before Kathleen arrived.

“What is it Joe?”

“What do you make of this?”  The ranch hand pointed toward the chicken coop and Wade followed the direction of his finger.

A splatter of fresh blood covered the ground.  A litter of feathers surrounding it.

On their way home, they had stopped by the neighboring ranch of Bob O’Connor, the rancher who lived between the Haddock’s Circle H ranch and the town of Lantern.  Whenever Wade and his ranch hands were out on the trails for any length of time, Bob would check in on his homestead and tend to the animals. 

Lifting a hand, Wade rubbed his grizzly beard and chewed thoughtfully on the tobacco tucked into the corner of his mouth.  Bob hadn’t mentioned any unusual activity at the ranch.

“Cougar?” Joe asked.

Lately, there had been a number of missing cattle up in the highlands and he suspected the mountain cougar was to blame, but so far there was no indication the animal had found its way onto the homestead.  Wade examined the pen fence and noted no sign of damage but did notice the blood had a trail that led to the barn.  “Get my rifle.”

Joe gave a quick nod, was gone and back in a matter of minutes and handing Wade his Winchester.  Placing a silencing finger over his lips, he slowly crept toward the barn.  Just outside the door, he cocked his head and listened for any movement or sound.  He wholeheartedly expected to hear a wild animal devouring one of his birds.  Instead, there was only silence.

Rifle cocked and positioned, he entered the barn and paused only long enough for his eyes to adjust to the darkness.  Again silence filled the air.  He glanced back and saw Joe covering his backside, a rifle cocked on his own shoulder.  Wade moved forward.  What he saw shocked the hell out of him.

Lying in the corner of the barn was a boy, wrapped in a blanket and sleeping peacefully, unaware of the new arrivals.  He was filthy, his head covered in a thick cake of mud.  His face barely visible beneath a good layer of dirt.  However what was noticeable was the very obvious trace of chicken blood around his mouth.

Wade sighed and lowered the rifle but not the entire way.  Instead, he used it to nudge the boy awake.  He sprang up like lightning, startling Wade into snatching up his gun once more.

“Whoa there, kid.”  He pointed the barrel directly in the boy’s face.

His eyes were wide awake now and Wade thought how comical they looked, huge and round through a mask of mud.

“What are you doing here, boy?”

He didn’t respond, simply sat there staring wide-eyed up at Wade.

“Did you hear me?  I asked you what you were doing here?”

Again, no answer.

Wade frowned.  What was the matter with the kid?  With the rifle he nudged the boy in the chest and was rewarded with movement.  The boy scurried further back into the corner.  “You realize stealing is a crime, boy?”

Once more, he received only silence from his intruder.

“You get jail time for that.  Ever been to prison?”  When Wade still got no response, he turned his head and looked at Joe who only shrugged.  “Don’t you speak, boy?”

“Maybe he’s one of them mutes,” Joe offered.

“Maybe,” Wade said and eyed the boy closer. 

He was shivering in the corner and looked like a trapped and frightened animal.  He felt a sense of sympathy for the kid and figured he must have been awfully hungry to devour a chicken raw.  He wondered where he came from and looked at him closer. 

Unable to make out his appearance because of the barn’s dim lighting and the boy’s appearance, he did, however, sense something familiar about his eyes and for some reason thought of the people who lived up on the mountain. 

They were an odd group.  Keeping to themselves and far from civilization.  For twenty-four years they had lived as recluses.  Rumor even had it they married their own.  He wondered if that was where the boy came from.  One thing for sure, the boy needed food and a good clean bath.

Putting down the rifle, he spat out the tobacco in his mouth before saying, “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood today, boy.  I won’t report you to the constable on account you pay for that chicken.”

A look entered the boy’s eyes and Wade quickly offered, “I don’t mean money.  I mean work.  You can work, can’t you?”

He nodded slowly and Wade felt a sense of relief.  He was beginning to wonder if the boy was simple-minded.  What with Chuck already on staff, he didn’t think it would be a good idea for two simpletons to be at the homestead when Kathleen arrived.

“Can you speak, boy?”

There was a moment’s pause and what looked as if the boy was about to say something, then instead shook his head.

Wade nodded in understanding, even though he really did not.  He had no idea how to communicate with a mute.  “Joe here will show you what to do, and when you’re done you can join us for supper.”

He left the barn without expecting a thank-you or look of gratitude, knowing he wouldn’t have received one.  Instead, he pulled Joe aside and assigned a job for the boy.  “Make sure he gets a bath and a clean set of clothes as well.”

His ranch foreman nodded and Wade made his way back up to the house.  Kathleen was expected soon and he didn’t want to smell like the backside of a horse, but before he could submerge himself in a tub of water he needed to light the fire in the hearth and get the house warm before her arrival.  Prescott, he knew, was already up at the house drawing his own bath but would forget to tend the fire.

Sure enough the coals lay cold in the hearth so Wade wasted no time gathering some logs and placing them in the fireplace.  It didn’t take long before roaring flames filled the oversized stone hearth.  Satisfied the fire needed no more feeding he turned toward the grand staircase that led to the bedrooms on the top floor.

The home was unusually large and outlandish for this part of the country.  Their mother’s doing.  When Louis Haddock brought her from the bustling streets of London to the remote outback of the Rocky Mountains, she insisted their home be as lavish as the one they left behind believing it would make living conditions more civilized.  In an ironic twist, she hardly ventured off the homestead in all the years she lived there.  It had eventually become her self-imposed prison.

Outside, there was a sudden loud commotion as footsteps pounded on the wooden porch.  The front door swung open and a frustrated Joe stuck his head inside.  “Sorry to disturb ya boss.”

“What’s going on?”

“It’s the boy.”

Startled, Wade frowned.  “What about him?”

“It seems he’s afraid of water.”

“Damnation.”  Wade sighed angrily before checking the fire once again to ensure it was well under way before following Joe outside.  Under no circumstance was he going to let anything ruin Kathleen’s arrival.  He wanted everything perfect.  “Where is he?”

“He’s trapped himself in the bullpen.”

Wade came to an abrupt halt.  “You’re joking.”

“‘Fraid not.”  Joe made a face and led the way to the back of the barns to the paddock where the bull was fenced.

Sure enough, Joe was not kidding when Wade saw the boy huddled beside a tree with the blanket wrapped protectively around him.  A bright orange blanket.  Hell, what was he, suicidal?  Lucky for the boy, the bull looked disinterested as he lay in the opposite side of the pen watching the humans with distant interest.

“What the hell are you doing kid?”  He positioned himself closest to the fence where the boy was.  “Trying to kill yourself?”

For a reply the boy drew the blanket closer and slithered further behind the tree away from the men but more in view of the bull.  Wade gritted his teeth.  Christ, this was the last thing he needed.  A few of the ranch hands had come over to watch, but Wade was not amused.  This was hardly entertainment.

“Listen, kid, I have little patience.  That’s something you should know.  So I suggest you get the hell out of there before I change my mind and call the constable after all.”

He was surprised to see his words had no effect.  Kathleen was expected home soon and he had no time for such idiotic behavior.  “Listen, it’s your life.  Mac, my bull over there, would gladly enjoy you as a plaything.  It’s your choice.”

When he didn’t move, Wade felt the anger build up inside.  “Hell.”

“Whatcha goin’ do?” Joe asked as Wade was about to storm past him.

“Nothin’.”  And he meant it too, that was until he saw Mac stir and slowly get to his feet.  Groaning with anger, he spun around and growled at the kid.  “You either get that scrawny little ass of yours out of my bullpen right now or I swear I’ll rip into you a lot worse than Mac.”

The result was the complete opposite from what he had hoped.  The boy looked even more frightened and refused to budge.  Frustrated, Wade through his hands into his scraggly chin-length hair.  How the hell could this be happening?  Life at the ranch was always calm and uneventful.  Just the way he liked it.

Taking a deep breath, he slid a look over at Mac and took note of his slow movements, calculating the estimated time before the bull decided he no longer wanted to share his pen. 

Glancing back at the boy he said in the most controlled tone of voice he could muster, “Okay, look, if this is all about a bath, you can skip it.  Hell, if you’re willing to risk your life over it you obviously don’t want to take a bath.  So, agreed.  Now, would you kindly move very—and I mean
very
slowly in this direction.”

The boy hesitated, weighing the validity of Wade’s words then glanced over at the bull.  With caution he finally moved toward the fence.  Mac lifted his head and cocked his ears but did not follow.  Instead he stood and watched as the boy made his way from the safety of the tree to the side of the pen. 

Just when he reached it, a breeze picked up the corner of his blanket and flapped it in the wind.  The bull snorted, moved his hind legs in irritation and positioned himself in what Wade knew was a charge.

Without a moment’s pause, he reached over the fence, grabbed the boy and blanket, and then hauled him over the fence to safety.  His movements were so quick he didn’t have time to steady himself as the pair of them went flying onto the dusty ground.  To help break the fall, Wade threw them into a roll until they came to a stop a few yards away from the bullpen.

Even though the boy was small he still proved quite the punch, knocking the wind out of Wade momentarily.  He laid on the ground trying to catch his breath while the boy lay sprawled across his torso. 

When the dust finally settled, the oddest thing he noticed first was an unfamiliar smell.  He couldn’t rightly put his finger on it, but it reminded him of days long ago when, as a boy, he’d run between the clothes line hanging out back behind the house to dry.  It smelled—he screwed up his forehead, trying to think of the right word—fresh.  Which almost made him chuckle, seeing the boy looked like he just had a roll in the pile of cattle dung out back.

At first Wade didn’t notice what was happening, too occupied with catching his breath and familiarizing himself with the odd scent, but then something unexpectedly stirred which had no business stirring.  The boy moved, trying to orient his bearings.  Wade felt the kid’s scrawny little leg rub up against Wade’s much larger one and that something stirred more obvious that time.

With a horrified thrust he pushed the boy off and leaped to his feet.  The boy curled up into a ball on the ground, drawing the blanket closer around him.  He didn’t look up and Wade was glad. 

He had no idea where that reaction came from.  It certainly wasn’t because he was lacking in that extra-curricular activity.  Hell, he just came back from it.  Maybe it was the long nights on the cattle drive.  Maybe he didn’t get enough sleep.  Hell, he really needed a bath now.

“Get the boy a bucket of water.”  He informed Joe.  “He can use a wash cloth to clean up.” 

He studied the shivering boy once again sitting on the ground chin tucked deeply into that ridiculous blanket.  One corner slipped and exposed a slender shoulder before the kid snatched it back into place.  Wade’s member stirred once again.  He let out an angry growl and turned away abruptly.  “And, dammit, get the kid some clothes.  He’s shivering to death.”

Wade didn’t look back as he stormed up to the house thrusting thoughts of the boy aside.  He certainly was not going to think or explore his unusual reaction to him. 

Instead, he focused on Kathleen’s arrival, which would be any minute now and cursed the incident at the bullpen for delaying his time in preparing for her arrival.  He didn’t have the time to draw a bath, which was what he had really wanted, but instead he would have to make do with the new shower contraption Kathleen had purchased for them last Christmas.  Usually he didn’t particularly like it because it only provided cold water, but for some reason today, it sounded just right.

* * *

“Listen, kid, you’re going to have to hand over the blanket sooner or later.”  The big stout man stood over her, arms crossed and looking very ill-tempered.