Siege at Hawthorn Lake: Murder on the Mountain

by Paul G Buckner

  The hunters readily agreed and made their way back in to get some gear. Once they had gathered what they needed they climbed in the Jeep with Troy at the wheel.

  “Are you going to hunt with us any?” Phil asked.

  “I’ll probably do some tomorrow for opening day, but I’ve got some work to catch up on or my publisher is going to kill me. But, I’ll get out there and hunt quite a bit though.”

  The morning air was crisp and cold and the skies were an overcast gray. The sun was probably not going to show itself for quite some time now. It could stay this way for weeks. The weather was turning colder now and the men wore heavy coats over their Scent-Lok under clothes. Troy showed them where the trails were and had them mark them on their GPS units they each carried. The trip around the property almost two hours and he pointed out interesting topography that might yield good hunting results. He admitted that he hadn’t been able to go over every acre of the place yet, but expected to in due time.

  Troy stopped the Jeep midway up the rugged trail and said they would have to walk into a few areas on foot. The men split up to scout for good places to start their hunt the next morning. They agreed to meet back at the Jeep in one hour.

  Troy walked with Craig up to the ridge line to look around while Phil set out on his own. After seeing where the game trails came down off the mountain Craig was satisfied that he knew where he wanted to hunt the next morning. He marked a couple of trees that he thought were good candidates and then marked his trail on the way back out as they made their way back down the mountain. As they neared the Jeep they spotted Phil making his way through the woods. Troy got in and started the engine to wait for him as Craig climbed in the front seat beside him. When they were all settled inside, Troy backed up and turned the Jeep around.

  “See anything interesting,” Troy asked as they bounced along.

  “Yeah, I found a great spot not far from where a couple of game trails cross. They come down off the ridge and make their way down to a small clearing near a mountain stream. Found the perfect tree and marked it for in the morning,” Phil replied.

  Craig said, “I found a nice place too with lots of tracks and rubs all over the place. I may come back out on the Razor in a bit and look around some more. I need to unload it and get everything ready for morning anyway.”

  The men discussed the different aspects about the weather and deer movements on the way back to the cabin. Troy told his friends that once they returned, he had planned on going out on the lake for a couple of hours and catching some fish for dinner. He invited them to come along, but Craig declined as he wanted to unload his ATV and scout the terrain a bit more before resting up a bit. Phil said that he’d love to go out for a bit.

  “Sounds good to me, just make yourself at home, Craig. Mi casa es su casa,”

  Craig laughed and said, “Now, that is a deal. Be sure to catch a lot because there may not be any food left when you guys get back!”

  +++

  When they returned to the cabin, Troy dropped Craig off then he and Phil gathered up the fishing gear and made their way down to the boat dock. Once they reached the dock Troy realized that he had forgotten to refill the fuel tank and put it back in the boat. He set his gear down on the dock, quickly got the tank out, and walked back up to the shed to refill it. He told Phil to just hang loose and he’d be right back. When he got to the small side door of the shed he noticed that the door was not shut all the way. Hmmm, he thought to himself. Maybe one of the fellas forgot to close it when they were looking around. He found the fuel for the tank and filled it up. It was much too heavy to lug all the way back down so he sat it on a hand cart and wheeled it out. The snow next to the door had been trampled into a small brown patch of mud and as he turned to close the door he noticed something shiny lying on the ground. He reached down and picked it up, flipped it over a few times and knew exactly what it was - the broken tip of a pocket knife. He returned to the dock and loaded the tank into the boat reconnecting the fuel line. After getting settled they decided they would fish nearby for walleye since they didn’t have a lot of daylight left.

  While anchored just out from the dock a hundred yards or so Troy deliberated on the situation about the knife tip he found. No way had one of the fellas done that and the tip was still shiny so it must have been fairly recent. As a matter of fact, it was probably as recent as within the last few days. He knew that he was just in the shed only three days ago to retrieve a couple of boxes. He knew it wasn’t his so maybe it was a bunch of kids after all that had been harassing him.

  After catching several nice fish, the two men headed back in to the dock and unloaded the gear. Troy wanted to leave the fuel tanks in case they wanted to fish the next few weeks. They made their way up the gentle slope to the cabin and dropped the fish on the cleaning station. Troy went back around the house, collected the gear where they had laid it down, and took it to the shed. Meanwhile, Phil began cleaning the fish.

  While at the shed, Troy wanted to do a little more investigation on the door. Mainly he wanted to see if anything in the shed was missing. He stepped into the shed and flipped on the lights. He went to the large garage doors on the front and opened them to let even more light in. He checked all of his boxes and found everything in order. Nothing seemed to be missing at all. “Why would anyone bother to break in and not take anything?” he asked out loud, to no one in particular. He thought that maybe he had scared the intruder off when he came outside for something. He searched a bit more and then noticed the stair case that led up to the loft. He didn’t keep anything up there because it was still full of boxes from the previous tenant. If the realtor could get in touch with him maybe he would come back to pick them up. Troy never looked through any of it, he felt it wasn’t any of his business and didn’t want to intrude on another man’s privacy. He climbed up, took a quick look around, but saw nothing of interest. He came back down and made his way to the side door. Just as he stepped out and closed the door, Craig pulled up outside in the Polaris. He climbed out when he saw Troy and walked over to him just as Phil walked around from the back.

  “How was the fishing, Buddy?” Craig asked.

  “Not bad at all. You’re just in time to help us filet ‘em,” Troy laughed.

  “Not a problem,” Craig said. “Just let me get squared away and I’ll be right over to help.”

  Phil told them that he needed to run inside and get the filet knives so Craig asked him if he would mind taking a few things inside while he put the Razor away. Phil turned and carried an armload of gear into the house then met the others behind the cabin at the cleaning station and pitched in. Soon they had all the fish cleaned and Troy made a batter with the beer, eggs, and cornmeal to dredge the fish in. He also made his special hush puppies for his friends. The men deep fried the fish outside in a fish fryer with a small propane bottle attached to it. They built a small fire in the pit and settled down in comfortable, wooden Adirondack chairs. The wind had quit blowing hard and it was nice sitting next to the heat of the fire.

  “Fellas, I’m beat,” Phil said. “Think I’m going to turn in after a good hot shower and get my stuff together for the morning. I can’t wait to get in the woods tomorrow!”

  Phil got up and started walking inside when Troy asked him, “Did you decide where you were going to start out?”

  “Yup, I’m thinking the area on the west side up by the ridge looks like an awesome place. When we were scouting I saw quite a few signs up through there. Pine trees were torn up with rubs and I saw several scrapes,” Phil replied.

  The men chatted a bit longer and considered a few different options before deciding on exact locations of their opening day deer hunt. They told Troy that they had seen several deer when they were out scouting the area. A few were really nice looking bucks; the kind they were after. Craig soon followed suit and got up to help extinguish the fire and head inside.

  “I saw at least five deer when I dropped Phil off. I went on up and around due west of whe
re the cabin sits. There are several game trails up there and lots of signs. One of the deer I seen was a pretty nice buck, but I couldn’t tell just how big it was from where I was at. He was running at a good clip when I glimpsed him,” he continued. “If you hunt that last spot, we can go in kinda backwards. You can drive the Razor, drop Phil off where he wants to hang his stand and then drop me off above that area. After that you can circle back down to your tree stand where you can hide the ATV in that clump of cedars we spotted. I think we will have a nice chance of seeing some game.”

  “That sounds like a good idea to me,” Troy replied, as the pair walked in to the warmth of the cabin. He grabbed some more firewood and built the fire up for the night.

  Craig said, “Ya know, I can’t think of anywhere in the world I’d rather be right now. I always get excited the night before a hunt. Good night, buddy. See ya in the morning.”

  Chapter 5

  Sheriff Blaine was of average build, wore a gray felt cowboy hat, green jacket, and boots. A scar ran across his left cheek; the result of a knife fight he broke up in a bar years ago. He was fifty-two years old, but seemed much younger yet was wiser than his age led one to believe. He sat alone in his office reading the morning newspaper, the Hawthorn Post, and drinking a cup of coffee when Deputy Billy Larson knocked.

  “Come on in,” the sheriff called out.

  Billy greeted him, “Morning, Sheriff. Anything exciting in the paper today?”

  “Nah, same ole stuff,” the sheriff replied. “Mostly church gossip. Seems Twyla Dougherty’s daughter Brenda is finally marrying that Jones boy.”

  Deputy Larson scoffed, “Bout time. They’ve been shacked up since they graduated high school.” He thought a moment, “Seems like that’s been about two years now if I remember right.”

  “Yes, that seems about right.”

  The sheriff folded his paper and set it aside. “Read your reports this morning. What do you make of that rock throwing incident out there at Isiah’s old place?”

  Billy helped himself to a seat before answering, “Honestly, Sheriff, I’m not sure. Who in their right mind would drive all the way out there, park where they couldn’t be seen, walk around through those woods at night and pelt the place with rocks? It’s too damn cold for one thing, but why would anyone want to do it? What’s the motive? A prank maybe? Seems unlikely,” He went on, “It just doesn’t make a bit of sense to me. I think the rocks just fell off the top of the chimney.”

  The sheriff listened to Billy give his thoughts then replied, “I’m not at all certain about that either. I’ve not met the new owner yet. I hear he’s a writer or something. What’s your read on him?” The sheriff continued, “I mean, do you think he’s a bit sketchy or is he straight up? Maybe trying to get a story out of it or something?”

  “Nah, seems pretty honest to me, Sheriff,” Billy explained. “’Course I was only there for about half an hour or so, but he seemed genuine; a real likable guy. Early forties, average height, blond hair, medium build. Very polite. He doesn’t seem out of place like you might think a newbie would be. I really can’t see that he’s the type to make it up.”

  “I might drive out there in a few days and introduce myself. Check on things and make sure he’s doing okay,” Sheriff Blaine replied. “I doubt he’ll have any more problems, but it may help put his mind at ease if he knows we’re not far away. Besides, we don’t want to lose any new residents. This town can use a few more tax payers.”

  +++

  Troy’s alarm clock woke him up at 4:30 to a tune by Reckless Kelly called Crazy Eddie. He reached over, turned the alarm off, and slid out of bed. He had time to take a quick shower before he got dressed in his hunting clothes and headed down to the kitchen to put the coffee on. He could hear the other two men rustling about in their rooms no doubt excited about the impending hunt. He turned the coffee pot on and as it brewed he looked in the freezer and pulled out some frozen breakfast sandwiches.

  “Morning,” Troy said as Phil walked into the room. Phil was fully dressed and carrying a backpack in his hand. He was covered in arctic camouflage from head to toe.

  “Morning, coffee smells good,” Phil grumbled. He was not much of a morning person, but he was always ready to go when it came time to get up.

  “Where’s mister sunshine? He got his lazy butt up yet?” Troy asked.

  “Yeah yeah yeah, I’m up,” Craig complained sleepily as he came down the hall and entered the kitchen. “Who could sleep with you two caterwauling around?” he joked. “Nah, I’ve been up since three. Didn’t get much sleep at all last night thinking about this hunt. What time does the sun come up around here?” he asked.

  Craig was also dressed in arctic camouflage. He carried a backpack slung over one shoulder. He tossed it onto a chair near the front door before walking back over to join his friends at the kitchen counter.

  “Not for a couple of hours yet,” Troy said. “We should be able to get out to our hunting spots about a half-hour before daylight. That is if the sun even comes up and gives us much daylight at all. I’m sure this gray overcast will linger with us for quite some time; may be weeks before we actually see the sun again.”

  “As long as I can see the deer I’m good to go,” Phil laughed. “What’s that rifle you’re using, Troy?”

  “This here is my trusty three-thirty-six CS in 45-70. I aim to make sure that whatever I shoot goes down and stays down,” Troy answered as he held up his rifle for closer inspection.

  The three friends drank their coffee and ate the breakfast sandwiches while excitedly talking about the upcoming hunt. When they finished eating, Troy sat his empty cup down on the counter.

  “Are you boys about ready to head out?” he asked.

  “I’m ready soon as I fill up my thermos,” Phil said.

  “Hah, you open up that thermos of coffee out there and every deer in the county will turn tail and run out,” Craig laughed out loud while slapping Phil on his shoulder.

  “You and your stink factor, Craig. Let me ask you something, how many trophies do I have hanging on my wall and how many do you have?”

  Craig scoffed and shook Phil’s hand off.

  “Ah, there it is! You always go back to that don’t ya? Doesn’t matter that you go out hunting twice as much as I do and you take other trips without me too. So if you factor in the amount of time actually spent in the woods hunting then it’s fairly obvious who the expert wild game hunter is around here. Don’t ya think?” Craig said.

  The two had the same friendly argument over and over throughout the years they’d hunted together. Craig stuck to his theory of buying the most expensive hunting clothing on the market because it worked better to block his human scent. Phil was of the notion that no matter where one hunted these days, the deer are not distracted by human scent. He always said that he’d taken more deer than anyone else wearing a pair of jeans and a jacket and never bought into the hype of the more expensive it is, the better it is.

  Troy laughed at his two friends and said, “Boys, you haven’t changed a bit. Let’s hit the woods before you two square off. We better put our hunter safety vests on here fellas. Once we get out in the woods you don’t want to be digging around for it and put it on in the dark.”

  The men gathered their packs and rifles and left the warm confines of the cabin stepping out into the frigid Rocky Mountain night air. The cold air stung their lungs and their breath hovered a moment before floating silently off into the darkness. They put their ear buds on for the short wave radios and pulled their balaclava’s down over their heads. Each of the men carried a flashlight in their pockets, but also one that strapped around their heads that would shine a flood light a short distance. They used these for finding their way through the woods in darkness. After they loaded the Razor with their gear, Craig climbed in beside Troy and then Phil jumped in the only back seat that still had room. All three men carried metal tree stands made for climbing up trees and stowed them on the rear of the vehicle. They co
uld climb as high as they wanted to, using them to get well above the game trails and out of site. They had used these literally hundreds of times over the years.

  The Razor purred along the snow covered terrain with no problems. When they got further up the trail and deeper into the woods, Phil leaned forward and tapped Troy on the shoulder. He spoke in low tones to keep his voice from carrying.

  “This is good right up here by that big oak tree,” Phil said as he pointed to the tree.

  Troy pulled the ATV over and let Phil grab his gear and rifle and jump out.

  “Good luck buddy. Radio me if you see anything,” Craig said, as Phil headed off to find his hunting spot in the darkness.

  “Will do. Good luck you guys,” Phil whispered just loud enough to be heard over the purr of the engine. He walked into the woods using his head lamp. The sun wouldn’t be up for another hour.

  +++

  Phil made his way slowly through the woods and found the game trail that he had marked with reflector buttons. He quietly made his way up the game trail pausing every few minutes to take a breather and listen for any sounds that might alert him to deer moving in the woods. He didn’t want to give away his position and spook the deer that may be bedding nearby. Hearing nothing, he pushed on. He wanted to reach the tree before daylight. Twenty minutes later he reached the tree he had marked for his hunting stand. He had scoped out a narrow-leaf cottonwood the day before that would be good for climbing. He liked to be as high as possible and the cottonwood seemed like the perfect tree to get him up fifteen to twenty feet with minimal limb cutting. The bark was a smooth pale green and turning grayer. The climber stand that Phil used could climb a grease slick telephone pole easily, so the smooth tree trunk presented no problems.