1. Arrival

 

Snow streaked out of the black void into the high-beam headlights and back out into the black like exotic particles in an accelerator winking briefly into existence then winking back out. A subcompact rocked from the gale that propelled the flakes. The insubstantial vehicle slid slowly over snow-banked roads through a small town shrouded in darkness. Shadowy buildings with only a few scattered pinpoints of feeble illumination hunkered down against the onslaught. Not another car braved the road, and the few parked ones the little car passed appeared to be behemoth sport vehicles and pick-up trucks. The young man driving had eyes riveted ahead and both hands gripping the wheel.

A woman in her thirties seated in back stared with concern out into the demonic snow-globe of a world someone had shaken way too hard. Eileen's long lean form appeared exhausted. Her short sun-bleached hair framed a weary worried well-tanned face. It had been a long flight from Tucson, Arizona, to Missoula, Montana. Then a two-hour Uber ride from the airport up into this mountain wilderness. Then this blizzard. In May! It had been in the nineties when she boarded the plane. When she landed there hadn't even been snow on the ground. There hadn't been any in the air, either, until twenty minutes ago. Then all hell had broken loose.

From out of the whiteout loomed a shadowy structure with lights beckoning from the front windows. The car slid up before it between two parked hulking SUV's. The driver heaved a sigh of relief. "You're here."

Eileen peered out the windshield to see the front of a narrow single-story wood building with two windows and a door. The wooden sign banging about above the door and illuminated by one of the aforementioned feeble pinpoints was boldly inscribed - The Buckhorn Saloon. "Where is here?"

"Darby, Montana." The driver was enswirled with snow upon opening his door. He propelled his subcompact body out and around to the back of the car. Eileen gathered her thin jacket tight as she emerged from the back and staggered through the white wildness to join him. The driver wrestled a large suitcase from the trunk. Eileen pried out its twin. He slammed the trunk then they slogged through the snow with their back-bending loads up onto an uncovered weathered plank porch that offered no shelter from the ice slicing wind. Eileen set her suitcase down and fumbled with her wallet.

The driver waved his free hand. "No need. The contract to drive you here was very generous. As was the tip they already paid." He opened the door and lumbered inside with the bulging suitcase. Eileen put her wallet away, picked up the other suitcase, and stumbled in after him.

The door banged shut behind her. Jumping in fright, she looked to see a man seated near the door glaring at her. "Raised in a barn?" he growled.

Eileen looked around to see what kind of lion den she had been delivered into. The heat was stifling, the bright lights startling. Country music played on the jukebox. Antlers and animal heads and pelts adorned the walls. Rickety wooden tables and chairs were haphazardly arranged upon the warped wooden floor. An impressive bar fronted with cheap metal stools ran across the back. Behind it reared a huge mirror set in a floor-to-ceiling cabinet and surrounded by an assortment of whiskey bottles.

A dozen or so whiskered men clad in rough denim and heavy flannel were crammed into this tight relatively safe haven. Intrigued by a stranger, a female, unescorted, out at night, in this weather, with suitcases, they all stared at her. The only sound from any of these fixated bar patrons was a hacking cough.

The driver took his leave and hurried out the door, slamming it quickly behind him so not to be reprimanded. Eileen, leaving her suitcases by the door, limped up to the bar. A woman behind the bar, appearing as worn as the furnishings, stared at her. "Coffee, please." As the woman turned toward the coffee maker a large golden cat crept out from behind the bar and curled up around Eileen's right ankle. She smiled at the feline attention then looked back to the barmaid. "How far am I from Big Hole Ranch?"

The silence that already had been as solid as the heavy wooden door was now honed to a knife-edge. No murmurs, no gasps, not a squeak from what must have been squeaky chairs. Even the cougher had seized control of his raw throat. Only the twangy wail of the jukebox. Eileen glanced from the rigid staring barmaid around the room to all the other rigid staring faces.

The door opened admitting another blast of wonderland white. A short slight frail young man, lightly clad for such intense weather, stood in the open doorway amid the hurtling snow. Everyone in the room immediately forgot about Eileen and turned toward him. Yet no one inquired what kind of structure he had been raised in. Rather, they leaned back as far away from him as they could without actually fleeing, with hands settling on an arsenal of poorly-concealed weapons. Reactions totally inappropriate for the man's mild demeanor. He ignored them all and stared at Eileen. "Eileen?"

Eileen looked around at the others to take in their reaction. Then she looked to the young man. "Yes."

"I’m Oscar. From Big Hole Ranch." Oscar lifted both suitcases with ease. Yet he moved jerkily as if afflicted with arthritis or the beginning stages of Parkinson's.

Eileen turned toward the barmaid. "Can I have that coffee to go?" The barmaid, having retreated to the register where more than likely there was a gun within reach, stared with apprehension at Oscar as she shook her head no and waved Eileen away. Oscar jerked out into the storm with the luggage. Eileen shrugged then, after gently dislodging the snuggling cat from around her foot, gathered her light jacket tight and limped after him. She did her best to ignore the slicing stares she passed through.

One man stood and followed. He was wracked with coughs as he bundled his heavy coat up tight.

By the time Eileen made it through the blasting snow to the parked Jeep with interior lights on Oscar had already stowed her suitcases in back. He climbed in behind the wheel as she limped around to the passenger side. Before opening the car door a flash of light caught her eye. She saw a dark form close the door to the Buckhorn Saloon and disappear into the night to a chorus of ragged coughs. Eileen scrambled into the Jeep. "I hope it’s not far."

"It’s not."

Eileen buckled up. "Do you get this much? In May?"

"At this elevation in southwestern Montana we get everything in the spring. Snow, rain, hot, cold. It changes daily. Hourly, sometimes." As Oscar pulled out onto the street, Eileen looked back at the saloon. Faces were pressed to the windows watching their departure. "How was your trip?"

When Eileen turned her attention back to her driver she noticed his hands twitching on the wheel. "The flight was okay. The drive was long, but he could’ve driven a little further to the ranch."

"The roads are rough in the best of weather. Tonight? No way." Oscar smiled pleasantly as they left the small town and drove through a wilderness of white.

Eileen watched his spasmodic hands with concern as she opened her jacket to bask in the warmth of the tight interior. "Are you okay?"

"No," Oscar answered.

Eileen forced herself to look away out into the blizzard as they turned off the main road. Although it was covered in snow, the bump and jostle informed Eileen the road was unpaved. They wound their way through a dense forest. Eileen could barely make out the way ahead, but Oscar seemed to know where he was going. They continued in this fashion with Oscar intent on driving as his body jerked and twitched, while Eileen looked back and forth with mounting anxiety from her obviously ill driver out to the deadly darkness buffeting them from all directions.

Until Oscar jerked upright and went rigid. Then closed his eyes and slumped over the wheel.

Eileen screamed as the Jeep swerved off the road, rolled down a bank, and crashed into a tree. After the air bags deflated, Eileen screamed again. "Oscar!" He was splayed limply across the wheel. She shook him. No response. Eileen peered into his face. It was lax with eyes still closed. But he didn't seem injured. She could not see any blood.

Eileen watched the snow whipping through the pines in the headlight beams while attempting a call on her phone. No signal. She picked up the radio mike from the dash and turned it on. "Hello!"

"Hello yourself," a male voice responded.

"We’ve wrecked! We’re off the road!"

"Is this Eileen?"

"Yes!"

"Are you injured?"

"No."

"Let me speak to Oscar."

"He’s unconscious."

"Is he injured?"

"Not that I can see. He passed out at the wheel."

"Hold tight. I’ll be right there."

"How will you find us? In this snow?"

"I can track your Jeep. Is the glass broken out?"

"No."

"Good. Cut the engine off. Don’t risk carbon monoxide poisoning. But leave the lights on so I can see you once I get there. There are blankets in the back seat. There are emergency supplies back there, too, if you're hungry or thirsty. Be sure to wrap Oscar up. I won’t be long. I can see you’re already on the ranch." The radio went dead.

Eileen replaced the mike. As instructed, she cut the engine off and left the lights on. She leaned over into the back seat and located the blankets. Oscar never stirred as she wrapped up his limp body. Eileen bundled up in a blanket herself then sat staring out at the snow dashing through the halogen beams she had flipped to high.

A grizzly lumbered up out of the darkness. Eileen nearly screamed as she hopped around making certain all the doors were locked. The large bear ambled up to the passenger door and stared in at her. Eileen scooted all the way across the front into Oscar's lap. But the bear made no effort to gain entrance. Eileen's breathing slowly returned to normal as they stared at each other, neither making a move.

Until Eileen heard something behind her. She jerked around to find a large elk with an impressive rack peering in at her through the driver window. She jerked away to between the front seats, looking fretfully from one animal to the other. Like the bear, the elk made no further effort to reach her. A bald eagle swooped down onto the hood of the Jeep to stare in at her through the windshield. All three animals ignored each other. Their attention was focused on her. Having no other option, Eileen settled back to watch in wonder.

Until the radio crackled. "Eileen? I'm here." Eileen looked back to see headlight beams at the top of the bank. "I see your tracks going off the road. I'm coming down."

Eileen snatched up the radio mike. "Be careful. There’s a bear, an elk, and an eagle here with me."

"Sure you didn't bang your head in the wreck?"

Wondering why she hadn't thought of that herself, she felt her head. "There's no blood, and I don't feel a lump."

"Those aren't nocturnal animals."

"Why don't you come down here and tell them that."

There was a moment of silence. Then, "I'll bring my rifle."

Eileen replaced the mike and turned around to look out the back. She saw the bobbing beam of a flashlight descend toward her. Eileen's nerve-wracked body relaxed. It had been a long weary day. She hadn't had a relaxing moment since she had run out of  her apartment early that morning to rush to the airport. But now, relief. The menagerie broke up as the flashlight beam swept all around the Jeep. The bear and the elk strode off in different directions into the trees while the bald eagle took to the sky.

Eileen lowered the driver window. A male face appeared. "You saw them," she stated.

"Yes."

"I wasn't hallucinating."

"We'll discuss it later. Right now we need to get you to your cabin and Oscar some medical attention."

"Are you driving him to a hospital?"

"No. It's too far and the roads are too bad. Sarilyn can take care of him."

"You've got a doctor on the ranch?"

"Sort of." The man opened the driver door and uncovered Oscar so he could release his seat belt. "I'm Richard, by the way." He scooped Oscar up.

"Can you carry him up that bank in the snow? It's pretty steep."

Richard straightened and balanced the limp weight in his arms. "I've carried wounded men before." He trudged away.

When Eileen hopped out of the passenger side she looked uneasily into the dark trees. Were those wild animals still out there? What other ones might be lurking nearby?

"Don't worry about your bags." Eileen saw Richard was already half-way up the bank with Oscar. "I'll get them. Just come get in my truck." Eileen closed her door and scrambled up the bank.

The rest of the drive was uneventful until Oscar woke up. He came to just as a collection of dark buildings materialized out of the howling snow. "What happened, Oscar?" Richard asked.

He looked around in a daze at where he was and who he was with. "I passed out."

"I'll wake Sarilyn. She'll look you over."

"No. I'm okay."

"You are not okay," Richard insisted. "You wrecked."

Oscar looked to Eileen with concern. "Were you injured?"

"No," she responded.

Oscar impassively studied her face. "I apologize for causing you distress."

"She's fine, Oscar. You're the one having problems."

Oscar raised his right hand before Richard. It no longer twitched. "I'm okay." He lowered his hand. "Eileen has had a long stressful day. Let's get her settled in so she can get some sleep. I'm sure she needs it."

Richard shrugged. "If you insist." He climbed out from behind the wheel.

Oscar climbed nimbly from the back seat. "I've got the bags."

Shrugging once again, Richard went around the front of the pick-up truck to join Eileen. "There's little point arguing with Oscar." Richard led her through the mounting snow up onto the porch of a small cabin where a dim light burned. Eileen glanced back over her shoulder. Oscar was right behind them with both suitcases easily in hand. Richard unlocked the door and ushered her inside.

Snow swirled in along with Eileen as she entered a dimly-lit cramped living room. The sparse furnishings were old and worn. A hand to the back gently urged her further inside. Richard came in right behind. He closed the door after Oscar entered.

In the feeble light from the shaded lamp Eileen could for the first time take a good look at Richard. He appeared to be in his thirties - short and stocky with sharp penetrating eyes. Of note was an irregularity of his upper lip that even a flourishing moustache couldn't conceal. Unlike Eileen, he was well-prepared for the weather in heavy snow gear.

"We need to be quiet," Richard told her. "Nancy and Sarilyn are sleeping." He glanced back at Oscar. "That is if we're not waking Sarilyn up to play doctor." Oscar shook his head no.

"Where’s my room?" Eileen asked.

"You’re in it." Eileen watched with despair as Richard opened the sleeper sofa. He glanced up at her, shrugged. "It’s a two-bedroom cabin. Men’s cabin is the same. Hank got our living room." Richard straightened. "Bathroom’s down the hall. Throw the bolt behind me." Oscar had already exited the cabin as Richard turned to the front door.

"What's wrong with Oscar?" Eileen asked.

"Don't know. But whatever it is it’s getting worse. First time he's ever passed out while driving." Richard grinned. "Just wait till you see Seth. The partner who will interview you later this morning. He’s sicker than Oscar." Eileen’s despair deepened. "It’s nothing contagious. We hope."

"What about the other partner?"

Richard’s grin dissolved. "Adam’s healthy enough. At least physically."

Eileen sagged with more than the evident exhaustion. "What have I got myself into?"

Richard’s twisted grin blossomed anew. "A pile of money. If your offer was anything like mine." Richard slipped out into the white whirlwind.

Eileen locked the door. She looked around the tight ratty room. Her mournful expression softened as her attention was drawn from the lumpy forbidding sofa bed up to the oil paintings that lined the walls. A beautiful waterfall cascading out of the mountains into a crystal clear pool, the air full of mist, sparkling rocks with a wolf perched at the top of them. A thermal mineral spring enshrouded in billowing steam and bordered by snow, the pale yellows and greens of bacteria-leeched rocks seen through the bubbling water, with an old falling-down wooden cabin in the background. A night sky streaked by dozens of lightning bolts, the open countryside cowering before the onslaught, one tree struck, another ablaze, several more bolts attacking the ground, blasting dirt up into the air. A lush garden blooming in a rainbow of color filled with exotic statuary and imaginative topiary next to a large deep blue lake bounded by waist-high grasses in which bison grazed.

The next painting held her attention. A naked man posing nonchalantly full-frontal with a lopsided grin. He was definitely not a model. Middle-aged, bony and stringy without much muscle, thinning hair. A nondescript man lovingly portrayed. Eileen turned away from this painting with a smile.

Which diminished upon seeing the next painting. A young man with a wicked grin exposing dangerous teeth. Neon eyes that flashed with power. Long luxuriant hair. Strangler’s hands open and curled as if caught in the act. A tall wiry body tense with diabolic intent clad in stylish evening clothes. She lingered at this painting studying every detail as if hypnotized. Even though by this point she was near physical collapse, Eileen could not take her eyes from the portrait. She was captivated.