The Beasts Of Stoneclad Mountain

by Gerry Griffiths

  A large bear trap was recessed in the floorboards about five inches so that the bear rug would be flat and the menacing device wouldn’t be detected by anyone that was unwelcome, entering the cabin.

  “Go ahead and pull back the rug. There’s a steel rod just inside the door. You can trip the trap with that.”

  Ethan did as he was instructed and removed the rug. He took the long rod and held it over the trip plate and lowered it until the trap sprung with a loud snap.

  “There’s enough pressure there to take off a man’s leg,” the voice said.

  “Can we come in?”

  “One moment.” There was the distinct sound of flint striking flint, and then a small flame ignited on the end of a spire of straw touching the tip of a candlewick.

  The room brightened slightly and Ethan saw an old codger sitting behind a small crudely made table. A rifle and a handgun were lying on the tabletop within easy reach.

  Ethan had once seen similar weapons in an old gunsmith catalogue but had never actually seen them for real.

  “Is that a Henry rifle?”

  “Sure is,” the old-timer said. He had a long grisly gray beard and his shirt was so filthy that it was impossible to tell its true color. “This sixteen shooter used to belong to my great-granddaddy. Been handed down through the years and seen its share of fighting I would imagine. Best gun ever made.”

  Ethan glanced over at the revolver. “That’s a Smith and Wesson Schofield.”

  “Looks like you know your guns. Right again. Designed by Paul Schofield himself. For all I know, it might even be the gun the poor bastard used to shoot himself after when the damn army tried to court martial him.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t ask your name,” Ethan said.

  “Name’s Micah. Been living on this mountain all my life.”

  “Please to meet you, Micah.”

  “Likewise, Ethan. Shouldn’t you be asking that nephew of yours and his wife in?”

  “Sure. And there’s my dog,” Ethan said, hoping it wasn’t going to be a problem.

  “Does he mind you?”

  “Most of the time.”

  “Then you better bring him in. Don’t want him wandering around outside.”

  “Why, do you have more traps?” Ethan asked.

  “That and other things,” Micah replied dryly.

  21

  Micah proved to be a hospitable host offering his bunk for Mia to lie down on so she could rest her foot, which was one of the few pieces of furniture in the cabin besides the roughly-hewn table, Micah’s chair, a long bench and an old steamer trunk with canvas sides. Even though he didn’t have much, he was more than willing to share whatever he had.

  He told his guests how he lived off the land, trapping game and picking edible shrubs and berries. He fashioned his clothes from animal hides and used their fat to melt into candles and other purposes. There was a nearby stream for water.

  “Well, I guess you wouldn’t be laid up here, if it weren’t for my trap,” Micah said to Mia, his way of apologizing.

  “It is your land,” Mia said.

  “No one holds a claim to this mountain, and certainly not me. Sooner or later, she takes back what is rightfully hers. Winters can be mighty fierce up here. I once saw a dead man frozen up in a tree. Stayed that way for a good three months before the first thaw.”

  “What was he doing stuck in a tree?” Clay asked, warming his hands after he’d piled more wood on the fire.

  Micah didn’t care to elaborate.

  Ethan was sitting on the bench; Blu curled up by his feet. “So I take it you know this mountain pretty well.”

  “Better than most, I suppose,” Micah said.

  “You know,” Ethan said. “I might just have some spare ammo for that sidearm of yours.”

  “That would be right nice of you. I was pressing my own bullets for a while, but then I run out of gunpowder.”

  “So, maybe you could help us out?” Ethan asked.

  “How’s that?”

  “We’re looking for our son,” Mia said. “He was taken from us.”

  “By who?”

  Mia didn’t say. She looked away contemplating how to reply.

  “It was bigfoot,” Clay blurted out. “There were two of them. Maybe three.”

  “You don’t say,” Micah said but not in a scoffing tone. “You want me to help you find your boy?”

  “That’s right. Come with us.”

  “I don’t think I can do that.”

  “Why not? They have our baby boy,” Mia asked incredulously.

  “You see that old bear trap in the middle of the room?”

  Ethan, Clay, and Mia looked at the metal contraption.

  “That’s why.” Micah got up awkwardly from the table for the first time since his guests had arrived. When he took one step, a heavy but hollow thud sounded on one of the planks on the floor.

  Micah moved out from behind the table and stood in the candlelight.

  “You see I don’t get around as good as I used to.” He patted his left thigh and directed everyone’s attention to the brace strapped around his knee and the tapered wooden stomp where the rest of his leg should have been.

  “You remember me talking about that man that froze in the tree?” He looked down at his peg leg. “This was the work of his trap. Well, my trap now. The minute he saw me lying on the ground and saw what he did, he tried hightailing, scampered up that tree thinking I wouldn’t be able to shoot him. But I did. It was so cold I guess I’d just stopped bleeding. Crawled all the way back here thinking I was going to die. Guess I was just too ornery.”

  Mia and Clay exchanged solemn glances.

  “We understand,” Ethan said.

  “All I said was I couldn’t come with you,” Micah said. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t help.”

  22

  “This should help heal you up,” Micah said as he sat on the edge of the bunk and applied a poultice around Mia’s upper ankle. His calloused hands weren’t the cleanest, but his touch was gentle, and the medicine seemed to dull the pain.

  “What’s in it?” Mia asked, always interested in learning new home remedies.

  “Well, it’s a concoction of mine. Sage and lavender, mostly.”

  Ethan and Clay sat on the bench and watched while Blu slept by their feet.

  “So, Micah, it’s true you’ve never been off this mountain?” Ethan asked.

  “Never had a reason to leave,” Micah replied, slathering more salve below Mia’s shin. “Anything I needed, I could get up here. I didn’t always live in this shanty. Had a place higher up in the mountain with my folks. After they passed on, I just kept to myself.” He finished up and let Mia put her sock back on.

  “Why did you leave and come here?” Clay asked.

  “Moonshiners drove me out.”

  “How come?”

  “Don’t rightly know. Just a mean bunch, I suppose. You have to remember, back then I was little spryer than I am now.”

  “So you put up a fight,” Ethan said.

  “Oh, you better believe it. But I got tired of the killing and living in the woods. So I eventually made my way down and settled here. Built this place myself. I know it doesn’t look like much, but it’s home to us.”

  “You said us,” Mia said.

  “I did?” Micah replied with a worried look then continued on by saying in a reminiscing voice, “I imagine there’s still a few moonshine stills up there, just rusting away. And then there were the silver strikes that never panned out, but it never stopped the fools from tunneling underground. Hell, this mountain’s nothing but a maze of giant gopher holes.”

  “So you never tried your luck?” Clay asked.

  “Oh, I gave it a whirl, but I came up bust. Even if I had found myself a vein, what would I have done with it? You know, back when folks were settling these parts, the Iroquois Indians used to call this Stoneclad Mountain.”

  “Why’s that?” Mia asked.

  “Well, the St
onecoats, as they were known, were these legendary giants that were made out of stone and lived up on the mountaintop. It was big magic for the tribes. The Cherokees also believed there were giants who were great hunters that lived up here. They called them Tsul ‘Kalu, the sloping giant.”

  “Sounds to me they believed in bigfoot,” Ethan said.

  Micah ignored Ethan and went on by saying, “And then there’re the little people.”

  “Was that also a Cherokee myth?” Clay asked.

  “Just another one of their tales.”

  “So what are the little people? Dwarfs?” Clay asked.

  “Well, as I’ve never really seen one, I couldn’t rightly say. My daddy used to call them brownies. Said they looked like walking skeletons, and were only three-feet tall, but he could have been making it up.”

  A noise, like an upward clumping, sounded under the floorboards near the table.

  “What was that?” Mia said, looking down at the floor.

  Blu immediately got to his feet and started to growl.

  Micah looked at Ethan. “You best hold Blu back.”

  Clay started to reach for his rifle leaning up against the wall.

  “No guns,” Micah said. “And no sudden noises.”

  Clay moved away from the wall and sat rigidly on the bench.

  Everyone stared at the floor.

  A square portion of the wood-planking floor rose slowly, revealing a well-concealed trapdoor. The lid opened all the way and laid flat on the floor. A dark figure pushed up out of the hole.

  “Oh my God!” Mia gasped as everyone, but Micah, stared in disbelief.

  “This is my friend,” Micah said with a kind smile. “Alden.”

  23

  Everyone’s eyes were on Alden as he looked at the strangers staring at him. He seemed frozen, not sure if he should remain or jump back down into the hole from where he came.

  “Alden,” Micah said firmly.

  Alden turned to the old man still sitting on the edge of the bunk. Micah let out a grunt and patted his chest, just below his left clavicle, with the palm of his right hand.

  The bigfoot responded with a similar grunt and mimicked Micah’s hand movement, and then in a hunched limp, he went over and squatted on the floor next to the bunk by Micah’s feet.

  Even in the poor candlelight, it was clear that his fur was gray, and he was uncharacteristically short for the legendary cryptid, just over five feet tall, the same height as Mia.

  There was no mistaking his muscular build—all three hundred pounds of him—under all that hair. He kept his gaze down and didn’t look at anyone directly.

  “I named him Alden after my granddaddy which means ‘old friend.’”

  “You mean, he’s your pet?” Mia asked in astonishment.

  Micah laughed and placed his hand on Alden’s shoulder. “Heaven’s no. We’re more companions. I found Alden caught in one of my traps when he was just a pup. Not sure how he ended up on his own. As you can see, he’s not that big. I think he might have been an outcast.”

  “Maybe he was the runt of the litter,” Clay said.

  “He did look sickly when I found him. And yes, at first I did consider him as a pet, just like your dog there, Blu. But over time, we began to form a bond. Even though I did almost cripple him. You saw him limp. Makes me sad to see that, but he doesn’t seem to mind.”

  “So, he understands you when you talk to him?” Mia asked.

  “It took us a long while. I’m really not sure if I was teaching him or if he was teaching me. We just started understanding each other,” Micah said.

  Alden looked up at Micah and patted his chest as he let out a low mewling sound.

  Micah nodded his head and smiled. “Yes, they’re friends,” he said to Alden and responded likewise in both their body and verbal language.

  “This is incredible,” Clay said.

  “I’ll say,” Ethan agreed.

  Alden kept in a low crouch and moved toward Blu. The coonhound’s hackles went up and he started to growl again, this time the rumble was deep in his chest, like at any moment he might lunge and snap at the approaching creature.

  “Blu…” Ethan warned.

  Alden’s hand reached out.

  Blu tugged tighter on the leash.

  But then something remarkable happened, because the second Alden’s hand came down to rest on the top of the dog’s head, Blu suddenly went quiet and began wagging his tail.

  “I never would have believed it,” Clay said.

  Ethan let go of the leash so that Blu could get closer to the bigfoot. The coonhound nuzzled Alden’s side, then backed away and sneezed a few times.

  “Bigfoot’s musk is pretty strong,” Micah said with a laugh.

  Despite the bad smell, Blu got closer and went down on his belly with his front paws extended.

  “Will you look at that,” Ethan said. “Blu wants to play.”

  “Let them go outside,” Micah said. “Alden can get pretty raucous.”

  Ethan got up from the bench, went over, and opened the cabin door. The late afternoon sun was fading.

  “Out you two,” Micah said.

  Alden loped across the floor, giving the sprung trap in the middle of the room plenty of leeway, and jumped out the door. Blu spun his rump around and darted outdoors after his new playmate.

  Micah looked at Mia. “Remember I told you I would help you find your son?”

  “Yes.”

  “I might not be able to make the journey, but Alden can be your guide.”

  “But how will we communicate?”

  “I’ll teach you,” Micah said.

  24

  While Ethan and Clay were outside watching Alden and Blu play together, Micah took the opportunity to sit with Mia and explain a few things before their first lesson.

  “Don’t think of it as commanding a dog,” Micah instructed Mia. “You’re going to have to be able to read what Alden does. You have to remember, he can sense things too, just like that coonhound of yours.”

  “Does he have his own language?”

  “If you’re asking if bigfoot speak to each other? That I wouldn’t know. Though I would imagine they do. I think all animals do. But Alden was too young when I found him, so I doubt he ever did. Everything we do is a way we learned together.”

  “Do I use my voice or will I be doing hand signals?”

  “Either one, sometimes both. I think we’ve come up with about thirty overall.”

  “And you think I’ll be able to learn all of them?” Mia asked.

  “Nah, and I’m sure you’re going to forget some by morning,” Micah said realistically. “The important part is, that Alden learns he can trust you.”

  “You don’t think he would hurt us, do you?”

  “Alden’s a wild animal, there’s no denying that. And I’ll bet he’s stronger than Ethan and Clay put together. But I’ve never seen him vicious in any way, at least not to me. Maybe to some other animal that crossed paths with him. That’s because he trusts me. And I trust him. Do you know, through the years, I’ve taught him how to spear for fish and what plants to gather that we can eat that aren’t poisonous? He knows how to set a trap and hunt with his hands. At night, he sits and makes these little noises to himself, and I swear he’s singing. I know, it sounds a little crazy.”

  “No, Micah. It sounds amazing. It’s almost like…”

  “A proud father bragging on his son,” Micah said with a smile. “Yes, I know.”

  ***

  After some coaxing, Ethan got Blu to lie down on the cabin floor. It only took a minute before Blu was fast asleep, exhausted from playing with Alden. Ethan went back outside to check on Clay.

  Micah and Alden moved over to the bunk, where Micah sat on the thin mattress and Alden took a place on the floor. Mia pulled up a chair so that she could observe for when Micah took her through the different hand movements and sounds that he used to communicate with the bigfoot.

  Before each exchange, Mic
ah would explain the meaning so Mia could make a mental note and practice the gesture. Alden’s complete attention was directed to Micah during their gesticulations like they were two deaf mutes having a pleasant conversation.

  It wasn’t until Micah and Alden started using vocal exchanges and Mia tried to replicate the sounds that Alden began to take more notice of the woman sitting only a few feet away in the candlelight.

  “It’s more of a gruff,” Micah said, correcting Mia, who gave it another try and this time got some approval from Alden as he replied back with the same vocalization.

  “Let’s change places,” Micah said. “So you and Alden can work together.”

  Mia got up from her chair and limped over to the bunk while Micah hobbled over and sat in her chair. “Aren’t we a couple of sad sacks,” Micah commented.

  “The sun’s almost down,” Ethan said, walking in through the front door with Clay.

  Ethan and Clay sat on the bench to watch Mia and Alden.

  “Would you two care to see our mine?” Micah asked, afraid that the two men’s presence might be a distraction.

  “Is it nearby?” Clay asked.

  “You’re sitting on it.”

  “What? Oh, you mean it’s down there?” Clay said, pointing at the trapdoor on the floor by the table.

  “That’s right,” Micah said. “Go have a look.”

  Ethan rummaged in his backpack and took out the two battery-operated headlamp flashlights. He gave one set to Clay.

  While Mia and Alden continued their session, Ethan went over and lifted up the trapdoor. He set the strap of the headlamp on his head. Clay put his on as well.

  Wooden slats had been mounted on the hard-packed dirt to be used as a ladder, leading ten feet down to the tunnel floor.

  Ethan went down first, then Clay. As soon as they were on the ground, they turned on their headlamps, took a few steps and looked around.

  The ceiling of the tunnel that was directly under the cabin floor was braced with crudely cut timber, most of it rotted, and looked unstable, like it could come down at any minute.

  Down one way, there was a fork in the tunnel. As they turned and shined their lights in another direction, they saw that passage split into three other routes. The sidewalls were sloughed off and pocked from erosion and seepage, not carved smooth by excavation.