On the Mountain (5 page)

The chances of the fire being started from the result of nature was more than unlikely this time of year.  Whether it was purposely started or accidental, remained to be seen.  Till then, he thought it best the boy stay at the ranch.  If he was able to come to that conclusion so quickly, it wouldn’t take anyone else much longer.

Chapter 5

Anna Nicholson stood on the banks of the river, her eyes unwavering as she waited for signs of life.  A coldness hovered over her heart from a memory she could not recall.  An arctic breeze swept through the valley from the north and carried with it the scent of death.  From every corner a feeling of horror lurked in the shadows, waiting patiently to engulf her.

She turned and looked toward the homestead, a lone disfigured silhouette stood watching her.  The crippled old man made her wary, heedless of Prescott’s words.  They had been the only two left behind when the men followed the river north.  Anna had known from the moment she saw the fire, she had something to do with it.  Any memory had vanished, yet the vile gnawing at her insides told her what her memories could not.  The same unspoken words which had been clearly seen in Wade’s eyes.  He knew.

A ghostly wind passed through her numb form and sent a quiver of dread down her spine.  She raised her eyes and looked up the mountain.  An inner voice demanded she return, but the sense of foreboding kept her from moving.  Instead, she stood and continued to watch until the curse of the mountain released its prey.

* * *

It was nearing sundown when the last of the fire was under control.  Wade and the rest of the men had been able to intercede the fire at one of the many branches off the Centralia River where Lake Grisham emptied into Stellar Falls.  Having concluded the winds were in their favor, they forced the flames north back toward the lake by forming a brigade, passing buckets of water from the river’s edge to the core of the burning inferno.  Hours later, they were successful in managing the fire and with the use of wet blankets able to extinguish any remaining flames. 

As he stood at the foot of the now dimmed fiery path he stared out at the charred and smoldering remains of his beautiful mountain.  If it had been two months earlier, the loss would have been greater.  As it stood, the destruction consisted of approximately ten acres of forest and the total elimination of a small village within its core.

The kid did not have to speak for Wade to know this was where he had called home.  The realization the boy no longer had somewhere to return, temporarily crossed his mind.

He walked up the scorched hillside toward what looked like a holding pen for a large animal.  It wasn’t very spacious and wouldn’t have been able to hold more than four or five animals.  The four dead corpses he found lying within proved him correct.  They were black, almost to the point beyond recognition, however something caught his attention.  Stepping inside the pen he knelt beside one of the carcasses to get a better look.  Sure enough, he recognized the Circle H brand.

Giving his beard a rub, he looked over at the other dead cows and noticed his ranch’s brand still visible among their charred skin.  He had thought the missing cattle were on account of a cougar feasting on his livestock.  Cursing under his breath, he ran weary hands through his soot covered hair.

“Haddock!”  Someone called from across the way.

Thrusting his thoughts aside, he stood back up and headed toward the cluster of remaining huts that constituted the core of the village.  He spotted Constable William Stanford with Prescott standing next to a mound of burnt logs.  They were in the middle of what looked like a small courtyard.  Evidently the core of where the people in the mountain lived.  However the homes were more similar to sod houses than wooded huts, and built directly into the mountainside, which caught him as being strange, considering all the timber available for proper housing.

As he approached the duo, he noted the look on his brother’s face and knew whatever it was, wasn’t going to be pretty.  They stood in an area that was a mass of scorched wilderness with a lingering trace of smoke still rising from the ashes.  He glanced around and noticed the only people about were the volunteer town folks and his own ranch hands.  At least, that was his initial impression. 

However, as he drew nearer, the acute stench of torched skin assaulted his breathing causing him to realize that what he thought were tree logs, turned out to be human corpses.  Prescott used the bandana around his neck to cover his mouth and nose while his eyes watered from the foul fumes.  “This is the most barbaric thing I have ever seen.”

The constable glanced first at the younger brother before diverting his attention to the older one.  “It looks like the fire started here.”

Wade’s brows came together in confusion.  “What do you figure?  The bodies were a human fire pit?”

In reply, the constable knelt down and raised the head of one of the corpses.  From the general shape of the body, it was clear it was male.  Its teeth and eyes glowed white against the charred flesh in a grim evidence of the horrified man’s state right before death.

“Were they alive when set on fire?”

“Yeah.”  The constable agreed then laid the head of the dead man back on the pile of bodies.  “The lucky ones.”

“The lucky ones?”

He nodded and stepped over to a separate group of remains.  Wade headed in the same direction with Prescott following, handkerchief glued to his mouth.  “This lot took the blunt of the attack.  Ax to the back of the head.  Execution style.”

“Christ.”  Wade drove a hand through his hair.

“And all female,” the constable added.

A surge of anger flooded his veins, but years of controlling his emotions kept it under control.

“Indians?”  Prescott asked under his handkerchief.

“More than likely.”  Constable Stanford agreed.

Wade shook his head and swore once more.  He never had any problems with the Indians in all the years he had ranched on his homestead.  Though he heard of many ranchers and farmers that had.  They weren’t the most civil people and had come to hate the white man for stealing land they felt was rightfully theirs.  Wade had seen the same possessive anger consume a man only once before.

But the women?  It didn’t make sense.  He could tell the same thought crossed the constable’s mind.

“Let’s give them a proper burial,” he said.

“Right. I’ll get some of the ranch hands.”  Prescott took the opportunity to scurry away from the revolting smell.

The constable waited until he was completely out of earshot.  “I hear you have a new ranch hand.”

Wade frowned.  “You heard right.  What of it?”

“The rumor is he’s one of the mountain people.”  The constable spoke with deliberation.  “Possibly from this very village.”

He hesitated before slowly replying, “Afraid I couldn’t tell you.  The boy’s a mute.”

“Is he now?”  He looked somewhat surprised, but Wade felt the insincerity.  “That’s mighty convenient.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“A strange boy shows up dirty and frightened the morning before a massacre sweeps out his entire village.”

“We’re not certain this was his village.”  He didn’t like the direction of the lawman’s thoughts nor the fact he knew so much about the boy’s state when found at the ranch.

“True,” he conceded, however added, “But, say I was right, it sure would make my job easier knowing what that boy knows.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to solve this one on your own Stanford.”  Wade kept his gaze level as he spoke.  “As I said, the boy’s a mute.”

“Still the same, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll have a little talk with him when we get back.”

Wade watched the constable wander off toward some of the huts and felt a rush of mixed feelings.  Like the lawman, his first instinct was to blame the boy.  However, realizing this man-made forest fire was the result of a village-wide massacre brought the realization this barbaric act was far beyond the boy’s capabilities.  How he knew, he wasn’t certain.  There was something in the boy’s eyes that spoke words he could not voice.  Something that was laced with fear and ghastly memories.

* * *

The sun was slowly dipping below the western mountain tops and Anna had a fear Wade and the rest of the men wouldn’t be back before sunset.  She wrapped her arms around her legs and cuddled further into her own embrace.  The nights were getting colder and that evening was no exception.  A shiver crept over her and she wished she had a blanket to warm herself by the river.  Chuck Rhodes had disappeared and reappeared several times while she sat and waited.  Thankfully, he made no attempt to join her.

She first felt rather than saw the men return.  Beneath her the earth began a slow rumble that grew until a cloud of dust proceeded a group of men on horseback out of the trail that led from the mountain.  Leaping to her feet, she watched as they headed toward her, their faces covered in soot and drained from exhaustion.  As they neared, she noticed something else.  It was in the eyes.  They lacked life.

One of the first men to cross the river was Wade.  His horse easily plowed through the deep river and up the rocky bank.  She felt a surge of panic as Sty closed the distance between Wade and herself.  When the animal came abreast to her, his rider leaped from the saddle and handed her his reins.

“Take my horse to the stable, boy.”

Desperately afraid to look into his eyes, she recalled vaguely nodding and hurrying off toward the barns with Sty.  A small fragment of her mind wanted details about the fire, however a greater portion feared it immensely.  Her entire state of mind lay on its foundation.  The information Wade carried would affect her completely, whether it be good or evil.

She stepped inside the dimly lit stables and was immediately confronted by Chuck Rhodes.  He caught her by surprise when he loomed from the shadows near the entrance as if waiting for her.  He was smaller and weaker than Anna and due to his disabled form stood shorter than any of the other men, but he was the one she trusted the least.

Stepping far too close he sniffed the air around her as a dog would upon a new arrival.  Agitated, she pushed him away and was startled to see the anger leap to his eyes.  Thankfully, the sound of footsteps and pounding hoofs followed directly behind her as the ranch hands piled into the stables along with their horses.

“Get back to work, old man.”  Neil ordered the man twice his age.  “Christ, and take a bath.  You’re beginning to smell like horse shit.”

Without another backward glance, he scurried back into the darkness and out of sight.  Anna released a silent sigh of relief, and headed for Sty’s horse stall.  She didn’t know what the old man’s story was, but from now on she would be on her guard.

She was in the act of brushing Sty down after removing the saddle and blanket from his back when Wade entered the barn along with a man she did not recognize.

“Put that down and come here, boy,” he said.

Apprehension crept up her spine, causing her delayed reaction.

“I said, come here boy.”  This time Wade’s voice was firmer.

Avoiding any eye contact, she put the brush back in a bucket nearby and stepped out of the stall.  With her back to them, she took her time in the process of closing and locking the gate.  To her surprise, Wade waited patiently until she completed the task and turned around at last to face him.

“This is Constable Stanford,” he said.  “He wants to ask you a few questions to see if you know anything about the forest fire.”

Keeping her head downcast she did not acknowledge nor refuse.  She simply stood and waited.

The man identified as the constable stepped forward.  “Do you have a name boy?”

She offered no reply.

“I asked you a question boy.”  The constable’s voice grew stern.

Slowly she nodded her head.

Satisfied, he continued.  “Can you tell me?”

A third person joined the small group.  Prescott was reigning in his mount when he caught this last question and offered, “We call him Peter.”

The constable turned to look at the younger of the Haddock men.  “Is that his name?”

“He conceded to it when I asked, so yes it is his name.”

“He told you his name?”

“No I guessed it.”  Prescott offered a bright smile.

“You guessed it?”

“Yes.  The boy’s a mute you see and couldn’t tell us himself.  He has a name and it’s just right we use it.  We couldn’t continue calling him boy forever.”  Prescott stated what he felt was obvious.

“You’re correct about that, Mr. Haddock.”  Constable Stanford stated.  “The boy does have a name, but I don’t believe its Peter.”

She felt the sheriff’s eyes staring hard down at her.

“Boy, I want you to tell me what you know about that fire up there in the mountains.”

“Oh, he can’t speak Constable.”  Prescott informed the official as if he accidentally missed this tidbit of information.

“Prescott.”  Wade’s voice stilled his brother.  “Let the constable conduct his investigation.”

“Investigation?”  Prescott sounded dubious.  “What investigation?  Peter knows nothing about this.”

“You see, Mr. Haddock, that’s where I think you might be wrong.”  All the while she knew his attention had not faltered from her face.  She had not looked up, but could feel his gaze boring into her.  There was an odd sense he was seeing through her facade.  “I believe your Peter here does know something and would be a great benefit to my investigation.”