On the Mountain

by Peggy Ann Craig

  She wondered who Wade was and unconsciously her eyes drifted to his brother.

  “I suppose you haven’t been properly introduced,” Prescott said, following her gaze. “Wade Haddock. Big brother, owner of the Circle H, and your benevolent host.”

  Wade Haddock looked up from his meal and caught her looking at him. She quickly drew her attention back to her bowl of stew. For some reason, she found those piercing blue eyes of his far too intimidating.

  Glancing down at the mush in front of her, she felt her stomach give off a small growl. Contrary to what Wade Haddock implied, she did not recall eating any chicken and was indeed very hungry. The stew wasn’t the best tasting, but she devoured it with relish. It was a good thing the men thought her a boy, because she couldn’t be bothered with etiquette.

  Behind her the door to the bunkhouse opened and she heard the sound of shuffling but paid no mind as she was entirely focused on her food. It wasn’t until she felt someone breathing on her neck that she leaped out of her seat, startled by the close proximity of an unknown person standing directly behind her chair. Her swift movement caught the attention of the men at her table.

  “Damnation, Chuck, get the hell out of here.” The ranch hand Prescott introduced as Neil, shouted.

  She spun around to see an old withered man bent over her chair, his wrinkled chin tilted slightly as if he was smelling something.

  Prescott grabbed the old man by the arm and led him toward the bunks. “Don’t mind old Chuck Rhodes. He’s a little slow in the mind but harmless.”

  After they disappeared to the back bunks, some of the wranglers exchanged a few offensive words in regards to the old man, but soon the subject was dropped and turned instead toward work.

  The woman, however, did not return to her meal. Instead, she sat still as stone, her unwavering eyes fixed straight ahead while her heart pounded furiously in her chest.

  Chapter 4

  Wade tightened the harness on the horses, securing them to the chuck wagon. Beside him, the boy chucked bales of hay into the back of the wagon. He was a small little guy and didn’t have a muscle on any inch of his body. If anything he would only be a burden to the ranch hands. Wade thought it best to put him to work where he would be better suited and decided to bring him along into town.

  “Another beautiful morning.” Prescott had exited the main house and stood on the wooden porch, hands hooked around his suspenders, chin tilted up to enjoy the warm sunshine.

  Over the years he had become accustomed to his brother’s cheery outlook and learned no reply was the best reply. Not that Prescott needed one. He seemed far too satisfied with his own company to acknowledge anyone else’s opinion.

  “Good morning, Peter.”

  The boy did not respond, intent on the task of loading the wagon.

  “I say, good morning, young Peter.” Prescott was not dissuaded, raising his voice a notch higher in order to be heard.

  Once again, he received no reply. Wade could not resist the urge to smirk before taking pity on his brother’s attempt at friendly decor. Nudging the boy on the shoulder, he caught his attention. “Haven’t gotten deaf on us as well, have you?”

  He frowned, puzzled, and then followed the direction in which Wade gestured. Prescott raised his hand and waved. “I was wishing you a good morning, Peter.”

  The boy gave a short nod in response then immediately returned to his work.

  “I hope you found the sleeping quarters comfortable?” Prescott had come down off the porch and over to where the duo were loading the wagon. Wade didn’t have to look at the boy to see his response. The dark circles around his eyes told a different story then the nod he offered Prescott. He figured it was probably the new surroundings that caused his sleepless night. He, himself, had experienced the very same many evenings in the bed above the saloon.

  “We’re ready to take off, Prescott.” Wade wrapped the reins around the bench of the wagon. “Boy, you can ride in the back.”

  The two brothers took their seats on the bench, then pulled the overloaded chuck wagon onto the dirt road that led away from the ranch toward the town of Lantern. As usual, the ride consisted of Prescott doing most of the talking, while Wade sat quietly driving the team up and down the winding road. At one point, so tired of listening to his brother’s ramblings, he half wished the boy and his silence were sitting next to him instead.

  Sometime later, he drove the team onto the main road in Lantern and pulled up alongside the restaurant where he was only too happy to unload Prescott. He really hadn’t gotten to know Elizabeth King, so it was hard for him to comprehend his brother’s delight in seeing her. Moreover, it was the reverse that truly had him puzzled.

  Pulling the chuck wagon away from the restaurant he turned it instead toward the mill on the far end. As usual, the place was humming with activity. Loud machinery could be heard coming from the compound while the large wheel that stood nearly as tall as the building turned at a slow grinding pace in the creek that ran from the Centralia River. Bending to fit through the low entry, Wade had to blink to adjust his eyes from the bright exterior.

  “Morning, Mr. Haddock.” The mill keeper greeted his new arrival, wiping his hands on the apron covering his clothing.

  Wade reached out and took the offered hand, then followed the curious mill keeper’s gaze. “This here is the new ranch hand.”

  “Kinda small, ain’t he?” Though he smiled when he looked down at the boy.

  Wade decided to ignore the comment and got straight to business. “I’ll leave you to unload the wagon. I’ve got a few things to do in town.” When he was finished, he turned and headed for the exit.

  Without making sure the boy followed, he walked briskly back up the hill toward the main core of town. Behind him, he could hear the boy’s feet shuffling on the dirt road as he hurried to keep up. Wade led them to a strip of buildings where he entered one that had a red and white pole above the hand painted barber shop sign.

  Cow bells jangled above the door when he stepped through the entrance, the boy directly at foot. The barber was in the process of shaving a customer, but acknowledged Wade’s presence. “Good morning Mr. Haddock. Come for a cut or shave?”

  “Neither,” he said and reached behind to draw the boy forward. “What can you do with this?”

  The barber looked surprised, as did the boy who looked around his surroundings with misgivings. Rubbing his chin, the barber abandoned his client temporarily to approach the boy. He leaned forward and examined the mop on the top of his head, then said, “Could definitely do for a good shampooing.”

  “Whatever it takes.” He turned to leave, then on an afterthought stopped to look back. “By the way, the boy doesn’t speak a word and, apparently, has a fear of water.”

  “Good to know,” the barber said as he led the boy to a seat to wait his turn.

  Wade didn’t even bother to look back. He was certain he would have seen misgivings read all over the boy’s face. The kid was laced with fear. A lot of it to do with the unknown. He wouldn’t have doubted the boy had never seen the inside of a barber shop before.

  Back on the main street, he turned toward the saloon. Though he could have done with a cut and trim himself, he had something more pressing to do. Ever since the little incident with the kid near the bullpen, Wade was left with an uncomfortable urge. He didn’t search out the how or why, just the remedy. Even though it had only been two nights since he had last been with Marion, his body had an overwhelming need.

  * * *

  “How about a shave boy?” The barber beamed down at her, knowing full well her soft skin showed no sign of stubble. He purposely ignored her alarmed expression. “Mr. Haddock gets one every time he comes in for a cut.”

  Which she figured from the look of Wade Haddock’s scruffy look was probably once a year.

  “Go on boy.” Another client in the shop encouraged. “It’ll make you feel like a man.”

  From the corner of her eye, she saw the barb
er wipe a shiny and extremely sharp looking blade on a white cloth. Her eyes widened in fear.

  “Relax, boy. I haven’t cut anyone yet.” He reached over and produced a bowl of white fluffy stuff she assumed was shaving cream. She had seen her father and brother use it before.

  It was cold where he covered her face with it, but she kept very still. As he ran the sharp blade along her sensitive skin, she could feel the scraping of the razor as it passed along her sharp jaw line and pronounced cheekbones. She held her breath, fearing any movement would cause the barber to slip and slice a portion of her face open. When at last the shave was done, he gave the blade one last run over her hairless skin. Then when she thought she was able to breathe again, he dropped a steaming hot cloth over her entire face. Her first reaction was to scream, but when she went to open her mouth was only reminded of her inability to speak.

  Thankfully, he didn’t leave the cloth on for long. Whipping it off her face, he spun her around in the swivel seat on which she sat so she could see her reflection in the wall of mirrors behind her. The barber looked mighty proud of himself as he eyed her new look in the reflection.

  The girl saw a stranger staring back. It took a second, but at last she recognized the pale skin beneath the fiery crimson of her cheeks and a pair of large chocolate eyes. Her long dark locks were gone completely. In their place was a boy’s short hairdo cut close to her head, over the ears, and parted to one side. Any trace of the woman was gone.

  The cow bells rang as the door to the barber shop opened and she heard Wade Haddock’s voice say, “How is the boy doing, Carl?”

  “See for yourself.”

  She was spun around once more and came face to face with the man who had taken her in and given her shelter. His reaction was delayed, initially staring at her with a stunned expression, then he blinked and let out a low whistle. “Wow, kid, you clean up nicely.”

  “I gave him a shampoo, cut and even threw in a shave.” The barber informed Wade, who chuckled at this last comment.

  “Well, if nothing else, you at least put color in the boy’s face,” he said in reference to the raw scraping her flawless skin received.

  Outside a dozen people rushed past the window. Their footsteps pounded the wooden planks on the boardwalk in front of the shop, and caused the assorted glass jars lining a shelf on a side wall to rattle. The activity caught the men’s attention inside.

  “What the devil is going on?” Carl, the barber asked.

  “I don’t know,” Wade replied, cranking his neck near the large window in the front of the barber shop to follow the scurrying crowd’s direction. They were surprised when more folks joined the gathering. Turning, he opened the door and went outside. The barber followed, along with the other patron. The woman scampered off the barber chair and trailed after Wade.

  She found him stopping a town official. When she reached his side, she heard Wade ask. “What’s happening?”

  “Forest fire.” The man shouted over the commotion on the now busy street.

  “Where?”

  “On the northwestern side of Mount Louis.” The official went to leave, but then turned back to say, “Gather as much help as you can, we’ll need to fuel that fire before it gets out of control.”

  Wade nodded, then ran down the street toward the gathering crowd whose heads were staring in unison up the mountainside. The woman ran after him. Reaching the gathering first he turned to follow their gaze. When she too turned, she was stunned by what she saw. A chilling finger of dread ran down her spine. Far up the northern slope a billow of black smoke climbed high above the tree tops. Directly in the general location of the village. The village she called home.

  A dark foreboding shadow washed over her. As if reading her mind, Wade Haddock turned and stared down at her. Hard. Inwardly, she flinched from the sheer look of suspicion etched across his face. Outward, she stood in a frozen state. Unable to react. Then suddenly she began to shake. Violent, uncontrollable shakes. The suspicion vanished from Wade’s face and she thought she heard him curse low under his breath.

  “What’s happened? What’s going on?” Prescott had come running down the street.

  “Forest fire.”

  Wade snatched her arm in his huge grasp and headed toward the mill where they had left the chuck wagon. “If we leave now, we might be able to get back before the ranch hands head out on the western roundup.”

  “Right.” Prescott was serious for the first time since she had known him.

  She winced when Wade dragged her swiftly back up the street. His grip rough and painful, but she knew he didn’t even realize his steely grip. His focus was not on her, but the fire raging angrily toward his ranch.

  * * *

  The race back to the Circle H was at deadly speeds, but Wade had no choice. In the back he could see the boy being tossed around the wagon as it bounced and jerked all over the already uneven road. Slowing down was not an option, he was just glad the boy at least had the cover of the chuck wagon as protection. Otherwise, he was certain he would have flown free of the wagon by now and landed either in a ditch or worse, thrown over the road’s steep slope.

  He kept his eyes focused on the fire high in the mountain. Forest fires were rare this time of year and he knew the only thing on his side was the weather. There was a pretty good chance the cold autumn winds would keep the flames from spreading, but he didn’t want to take that chance. The Centralia River was thick and ran long through the northern slopes and would act as a good barrier from the spreading forest fire, but only depending on weather conditions. If winds in the highlands were at speeds greater than the lowlands, there was no accounting of what could happen. History was full of out of control fires that swept hundreds of kilometers of mountainside, sweeping effortlessly past rivers, lakes and anything in its path.

  At lightning speeds, the chuck wagon flew into the compound of the homestead where Joe and some of the ranch hands were waiting.

  “Where is everyone?” Wade asked, leaping from the wagon.

  “We spotted the fire and held off heading out.” Joe said as the duo walked at a quick pace back to the barns. “I thought it best we wait for your return.”

  “Good.” He was pleased to see his men saddling their horses. “There will be about twenty volunteers from the town heading up along the south trail, but I think we can get there ahead of them if we follow the river.”

  Chuck had Sty already saddled and brought him out of his stall. Wade gave the old man a curt nod, then swung up on top of the bulky animal before he shot out of the stables. Before he sped over the grassy pasture toward the river, he spotted the boy standing beside the chuck wagon. His young face paled with fear. A pang of sympathy had him averting his gaze and pointing Sty toward the mountain. It was best the boy stayed as far away from the scene as possible.

  Admittedly, when he initially saw the fire and its location his first suspicious thought was to blame the boy. It almost made sense. He knew from the look of fear in his eyes the night before, the boy was not lost as he originally thought. Rather hiding instead. From what, Wade wasn’t sure yet.

  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 t
he 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.