(1995) The Oath (29 page)

“I guess you could call this a bear stand,” Levi said. “That ol’ lizard was up here watching you, just waiting for his chance.”

There was every reason to doubt what Levi was saying, and yet, as Steve looked down into that rocky pit with one narrow entrance, he had to admit it made an ideal trap.

“How do you know he was up here?”

“Made a little side trip up here on a hunch. Come see what I found.”

Steve followed him to a flat area about fifteen feet back from the edge.

“Soil’s a bit scarce up here,” Levi said, “but that old snake put his foot in some of it. Don’t know if he meant to, but here it is.”

Levi pointed to a patch of dry, sandy soil. “See here? These are the toes. There’s three of ’em, see? And up here, see, here’s where the tips of the claws poked in.”

Steve thought that the scratchmarks and indentations in the soil were difficult to interpret, but someone with a vivid imagination might see them as an immense footprint, about thirty inches from heel to tip of toe.

Steve played along, figuring he could sort fact from fiction later. “And I suppose this down here is some kind of opposing thumb?”

“Yeah, he has those on all four feet.”

Steve was almost amused. “You seem to know a lot about this creature, right down to how many toes it has.”

“I’ve tracked it before.”

“And how do I know you didn’t create this footprint yourself?”

“How do you know you were just shooting at a bear?”

Steve had no answer. He could not deny that the dead bear hadn’t died from one of his or Tracy’s bullets, and Levi seemed to know that. The big mechanic was getting the upper hand in this discussion, Steve thought. Actually, he may have had it since the word “gotcha.”

Okay, so he would listen, Steve told himself, and sort it all out later. “So where did it go?”

“Well—” Levi looked a little sheepish. “It flew off.”

“Why would it fly off when it had two perfectly good meals walking into its trap?”

Levi scuffed the ground with the toe of one boot before answering quietly, “It just doesn’t like being around me.”

“Oohh.” Of course, Levi. Of course. “Anything else?”

Levi seemed to know he hadn’t made a sale. “I’ve taken your five minutes. I guess that’ll have to do.”

Tracy called from below, “Steve! Come on!”

Steve started back down. “Thanks for the input,” he said over his shoulder.

“She’s married,” Levi said.

Steve stopped. Now that bit of information he had not asked for! He gave Levi a glaring look to shut him up.

The big bearded man just gazed back at Steve, his eyes steady.

Well. Now Steve could see why Levi Cobb had so many en- emies. It seemed to be his peculiar gift.

“Steve!” came Tracy’s voice. “Are you through up there?”

“Quite through!” he hollered back, and headed down over the rocks.

“
SO
—
” TRACY THOUGHT
out loud as they hiked down a mountain trail. They were heading back by an easier route, a popular hiking trail that followed the ridge and connected some alpine lakes known for their hungry trout populations. “Levi saw us tracking the bear and thought he’d make a big dragon story out of it. It’s that simple.”

“Tracy, you do recall what we went through in Old Town, don’t you? You emptied your rifle at something, I got this bump on my head, and we were both scared senseless.”

“It was a windstorm, that’s all. The wind knocked over parts of Hyde Hall, and in the dark we made it out to be more than it was.”

“Is that why we were both firing into the air? If I’m not mistaken, there was something up there. It could even have been flying.”

“It was just the wind knocking Hyde Hall around. I shot in the direction of the sound.”

“What about the splashes in the river?”

“The bear, running from the noise. We hit it, and it was trying to get away from us.”

Steve realized that he hadn’t told Tracy how the bear had died. “Tracy, we didn’t kill the bear, we didn’t even hit it once!”

“What are you talking about?” she asked crossly. “We followed a trail of blood, didn’t we?”

“Yes,” Steve agreed, “we did. But that bear wasn’t hit with a bullet. Someone managed to cut its throat—a five-hundred-pound bear!”

Tracy was determined to put the event into a rational context. “Well, wait now. The bear came back to Old Town, and that’s when the windstorm blew up. Then when the boards fell from Hyde Hall, maybe one of them hit the bear, cutting its throat open, and it ran and splashed across the river, and that’s what we heard. Of course we were going nuts, shooting at falling boards, treetops, who knows what else. In the dark we could have been shooting at anything.”

“Tracy, don’t you think that’s pretty far-fetched?”

“Steve, come on, it’s the only scenario that fits!”

Steve came to another halt and faced her. “The only scenario that really fits is Levi’s.”

Levi. It was like a magic word that could change a beautiful woman to stone. “Steve, no. I can’t accept that!”

He was amazed. “What is it about that guy that eats at you so much?”

It was a tough question for her to answer. “He’s a fanatic! He’s a—he’s a nosy, mouthy, always-poking-around religious fanatic!”

“Well, he certainly holds a powerful grip on you.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The way you let him affect you. All he has to do is enter the situation and suddenly, poof, your objectivity is gone, and you’re concocting untenable theories—”

“I’m
concocting untenable theories?”

“Yes. Just to keep him from being right.”

Now she was angry. “That is not true! I simply do not regard Levi Cobb as a reliable source of any information!”

“Are you still married?”

Bull’s-eye. Her mouth dropped open with horror and indignation. “Did he tell you that?”

“Yeah.”

She put her hands on her hips and said angrily, “How dare he tell you that!”

Steve was content to stand right there in her path and get this settled. “Are you?”

She was too concerned with what Levi had done to hear Steve’s question. “You see what I mean? My private life is none of his business!”

“So he’s lying.”

“It’s none of his business!”

“He’s not lying?”

“He’s invading my privacy, that’s what he’s doing!”

“Well, are you married or aren’t you?”

“No.” Then, “Well . . .” She was silent for a moment, then said, “I’m married on paper.” Then she quickly added, “But I’m not married in my heart, and I think there’s a big difference!”

His expression was puzzled. “You’re married, but not really?”

She thought that over and then nodded.

He stood there on the narrow trail just musing over this new development, then finally answered, “Well, I’m divorced. Really. And when you asked me, I didn’t equivocate.”

That hit a bull’s-eye of another kind. She looked ashamed. “Steve, I’m sorry. I should have been up front about it.”

“So who’s the lucky guy?”

“Doug. Doug Ellis. You met him in the tavern.”

Steve’s eyes widened in surprise. “You married Doug?”

She cocked her head to one side, her eyes saying, Need I say more?

Steve replayed the memory of the tavern scuffle and the big roughneck looking for trouble. “I would say we more than met. Why in the world did you marry him—if I may ask?”

“It was a mistake, okay? He made a lot of promises, and I was in love, and I believed him. He was going to go into computers, and we were going to move away from here.”

Steve tried not to look incredulous, but it wasn’t easy. “Doug? In computers?”

“Well, if he didn’t have such a thick head he could have done it. Besides that, he likes the valley, and all his buddies are here, and his buddies come before me, so . . . what can I say? All the dreams died.”

“So how long have you not really been married to him?”

“We’ve been separated about two months.”

Steve slowly turned down the trail again. “I see.” Well, he thought, that can’t be all bad news, now can it?

“Steve . . .”

He stopped and looked back.

“I’m . . . well, I’m tired. I know a cabin near here. What do you say we take a break, have some breakfast or something?”

Or something? He scolded himself. All right, Steve, now cut it out. He finally said, “I guess I’d be agreeable to that.”

HOMER WESTON’S
log cabin on Lake Pauline was a welcome sight. Homer, a retired timber worker and longtime friend of Tracy’s parents, had built the place as a vacation getaway forty years ago and shared it with Tracy’s family for many a lazy summer. Homer and his wife were back East visiting relatives, but Tracy knew where the key was kept and was sure Homer wouldn’t mind their using it.

Lake Pauline was one of those small and serene alpine pools hidden in a forested hollow, a placid home for trout and crappie, a mirror to perfectly reflect the grandeur of the mountain peaks that towered above it. As they descended the winding trail toward the cabin, Steve could sense the quiet of this place enfolding his soul like a comforting hand, and for the first time anywhere in this valley, he felt welcome. Tracy began to relax as well, as if each step she took was a step back in time.

“You wouldn’t believe the trout in this lake,” she said. “My folks and my sister and I would catch our limit every time we came up here.”

“Too bad we didn’t bring fishing rods.”

“I’m sure there are some at the cabin, but I don’t think we’ll have time.” She smiled wistfully. “It sure would be nice, though.”

The trail came to a flight of stairs made from flat stones. They descended the stairs quickly, the green metal roof of the cabin and the jewel-blue lake visible through the trees.

“I’m ready for this,” said Tracy. “A good rest, something to eat . . .”

“I hear you,” said Steve, genuinely tired and wanting nothing more than a soft bed and a long nap.

“From here it’s about a two-hour walk back to Hyde River, so I suppose we could get back to where you parked your camper in less time than that. We could stick around here until this afternoon if we want.”

They made it to the bottom of the stairs and onto a veranda of crude planks that wrapped around the cabin from the back to the front. Tracy found the key in its same old hiding place, atop a rafter just over the front door. She opened the squeaky screen door, unlocked the old paneled door, and they were in.

“Wow,” she said, making several turns to take it all in, “it hasn’t changed a bit.”

Steve looked around and smiled. “My kind of place, no question.”

The cabin consisted of one big room, separated by the furnishings into kitchen, dining, and sleeping areas. The rough-hewn table and chairs, the old wood-burning cookstove, and the two double bunks were all holdovers from an earlier time. The cabin had a particular smell that reminded Steve of family vacations, summer camp, roughing it, and childhood in the woods. At either end of the cabin were sleeping lofts accessible only by ladders, the kind of thing every kid loved to turn into a fort, a hideout, an adventure.

Tracy sat at the table and delicately removed her shoes and socks, moaning with relief. Steve did the same. Then they opened their backpacks and pulled out the food provisions they’d brought: some instant soup, a few sandwiches, some instant coffee. The sandwiches would do for now. Neither had the patience or energy to build a fire for hot water.

Tracy munched on a tuna sandwich, downed a long drink of water from her canteen, and then asked, “Steve, what are we going to do next?”

Steve had a large bite of his salami sandwich in his mouth. He swallowed quickly so he could answer, “You tell me. You’re the one who knows Hyde River.”

“That’s what has me over a barrel right now. I’m supposed to be the cop, protecting Hyde Valley from the likes of you, and now I’ve helped you shoot up Old Town and meddle with Hyde River’s best-kept secret.”

Steve raised his eyebrows. “What happened to the windstorm you were trying to sell me?”

She had to admit it. “It was more than that.”

“More than a bear?”

She hesitated, then managed to say, “Yeah. A lot more.”

Steve kept one eyebrow up and narrowed the other eye. “Careful now. You might be affirming Levi’s claims.”

She laughed. “Oh, hardly. It’s still up to me to determine exactly what it was I saw last night.” Saying that freed her to say the rest of it, but it still wasn’t easy. “Steve, a thing like this takes time to sink in, you know? As long as I’ve lived here, it was nothing but superstition and folk tales; it wasn’t real. Now—well, we ran into something last night that scared the daylights out of me.”

Steve nodded. “And it scared Evelyn too—scared her out of her mind.”

Tracy rested her forehead on her fingers. “Her condition makes sense now, doesn’t it?” She looked up. “But why should anyone believe it, Steve? I mean, consider how long this tradition has gone on and how long that thing’s managed to hide in these mountains. How could it go undetected for so long? You’ve got hunters, anglers, campers, hikers, Fish and Game, the Forest Service—and nobody’s seen anything? What’s the trick here?”

Steve rested his chin on his knuckles and thought that one over. “This may sound far-fetched, but perhaps the creature used to be smaller, so it could hide more easily. If it’s still growing, if it’s as big now as it appeared to be last night, then I don’t think it can hide much longer. It’s going to be detected. It has to be.”

Now it was her turn to raise an eyebrow at him. “I would say that’s already happened.”

He laughed. “Oh yeah, it sure has. But I wish I knew what the creature is, and what its habits are.”

“It’s going to be tricky finding out. Don’t forget, we’re still up against a whole town that’s trying to hide that thing and protect it. They worship that thing. They’ve made a religion out of it.”

“With Harold Bly at the center of that religion, am I right?”

Tracy nodded. “And taking full advantage. I can see now it’s more than just talk.” Then she added grimly, “And Doug’s involved somehow, I know it. There were things he just wouldn’t discuss with me and I always had a hunch about it.”