by Paul Bagnell
*****
Less than an hour later, Tom stood outside the cookhouse waiting for McBridle. It was a full moon, a perfectly round grey “eye” watched over him. He knew this was the night; if ever there was a time to search for the Rabbit, tonight was it. The years of self-pity were receding, and he felt as if he could climb Mount Everest so he must take a huge leap of faith. It was now or never.
McBridle pulled up to the front entrance and ordered Tom into the vehicle. Soon they were travelling along the expressway en route to Tom’s house.
“Do you know the location of a place called Marsh’s Peak, somewhere near Stamp Line County?” Tom asked.
“Why do you ask?”
“I don’t exactly know for certain, but there’s something I have to do; and I need to go there,” Tom admitted.
“You have to go now? Is everything all right?”
“Yeah, everything is perfectly all right.”
“Well, I’m not exactly sure where that mountain is, but there’s a map in the document compartment,” she admitted.
He found the map in the glove box; it was bent into a tight package. He ran his fingers over the folds. Marsh’s Mountain was located of Pacific Highway #5, just as he thought. Once he found that northern region, he knew where to find the peak. According to the map, there once was an operating gold mine; and until five-years ago, it was used as a tourist attraction for the county. Because the ground had become too unstable, the area was now restricted to the public.
Tom was thinking about what he needed in case he did go--one shovel, one trusty spare, a good sharp pick, a reliable flashlight, a durable pair of leather gloves, and a hard slap across the face for being stupid enough to be suckered into this hair-brain excursion.
“You’re awfully quiet; what are you thinking, other than a beautiful night of bliss with me?” McBridle inquired with a tender look, momentarily taking her eyes off the dark pavement.
Tom didn’t hear her words and blurted out, “Can I borrow your car tonight?”
“What?” she replied immensely surprised.
“It’d be only for a couple of hours. I’ll take care of it; and if you’re worried about my careless driving, don’t be.”
“No, I’m not worried. I’m just not in the habit of lending my expensive things,” she said, “to a man who already has had one accident this week and who has been acting strangely all day.”
He touched her leg, “Just tonight and I’ll never ask you again.”
She pushed his hand from her leg, “You’re not planning on going to Stamp Line County - are you?”
“Well, yeah, I need to go up to Marsh’s Peak,” Tom replied.
“You’re going now? Go home and get some rest. Tomorrow this crazy urge will have lapsed, and you’ll feel fine. I need you fresh for our assignment.”
“A couple of hours, I promise. There’s someone I need to find; I’ll tell you what I discovered.”
“I really don’t care who you need to see or why you’re going; just promise me that you will take good care of the car and not tell anyone that I lent it to you.”
“Just like our lovemaking, it’ll be our private little secret. I’ll pamper it like a newborn donkey; you’ll see.”
“Bring it back in one piece or else your head’s on the chopping block; and I don’t mean the one that’s talking foolish,” she said, as if she were obligated; then changed her destination.
