The Deadly River (10 page)

Lee was puzzled. “Why? Are they dangerous?”

“Only to chickens and livestock. We make sure there aren’t too many of them around here.

“That makes sense, I guess.” Lee climbed into the passenger seat and Ray started the big pickup.

The trip was uneventful. The men exchanged small talk and compared notes on the painting and the lake. Lee learned that Ray’s Uncle Wayne, who had passed away two years before this, had worked the mining claim that included the little lake from the painting. Ray had inherited the claim, but had only visited occasionally, usually to go fishing or hunting. Ray’s mother, Hilda, had lived about halfway between St. Dubois and the lake, in a little town named Dublin. When her brother, Wayne, died, she sold her home and moved south to Arizona to escape the harsh Montana winters. She was fast becoming a well-known local artist in her new home.

As the two passed through Dublin, Ray pointed out the old grocery store, the boarded-up bar, the home where he had been raised, and the still-occupied home of Dawn’s parents. Only a few people were still living in Dublin, since the closing of a local railroad had turned it into a virtual ghost town. Lee thought it was sad to see something like this. He couldn’t help but to think about the dreams that people had once harbored in this place. Dreams that had led them to build the little homes with their still-fenced, but long overgrown garden plots. Dreams that were now long-lost along with the crumbling homes that had housed them.

It didn’t take long to get through Dublin and soon Ray turned off onto a one-lane dirt road that led west toward the huge mountains along the border between Montana and Idaho. The pickup labored as it climbed, navigating the twists and turns of the road. They were following a small stream named Little Joe Creek. According to Ray, the name had something to do with the fact that the larger St. Joe River traversed a mirror-image path through the Idaho mountains on the other side of this wilderness.

After a few miles, the road became rougher as it ran through narrow gulches and ravines, still following the creek. Now the pines had given way to magnificent stands of cedar trees that rose to incredible heights above them. The cedars were so thick that there was a perpetual twilight at their base, where the ground appeared moist and was blanketed with ferns. It was a unique and beautiful sight, but in the semi-darkness it seemed eerie, almost otherworldly, to Lee.

“Ray, in all my wanderings, I’ve never seen a forest like this. It’s beautiful, but I can’t help but think that Edgar Allan Poe would have loved it.”

Ray chuckled. “Yeah. This is kinda unique. That’s why some of us fought so hard to keep it alive.” He went on to describe the battle he and Kurt Kochran had done to save the cedar forest from the loggers. By the time he had finished the story, the pickup had emerged from the cedar-filled ravines and had taken a turnoff to the west. Now they were traversing across a bald hillside where the road turned to parallel the side of the mountain. Before long, the bald hill gave way to another pine forest and the road made a gradual turn to the left and took them up toward the crest of the mountain. After climbing about a quarter of a mile, they came over the crest and the road leveled out. They moved slowly ahead, through a fir and pine forest. A few hundred feet into this forest, the pickup suddenly tilted downward as they came to the other side of the hill they had been on. Ray stopped the pickup.

They were parked at a wide spot in the road. Beside them was a cairn of rocks topped with a well-maintained white cross. Through the trees, Lee could see deep blue water. He looked questioningly at Ray.

Ray gestured toward the glimpse of blue, “That’s it, partner.” He put the pickup back in gear and headed toward the distant lake.

Lee watched excitedly as the trees opened before them and the water became more and more visible. He soon saw the cabin off to his right and realized that they were coming toward the lake from what had been the right side of the painting. The spot where the artist had been when she had done the painting was somewhere off to his left.

He realized that he was leaning forward so far that his forehead was almost resting against the windshield. Glancing over, he realized
that Ray was watching him with a smile creasing his rugged features. Lee laughed self-consciously and forced himself to sit back in the seat. Soon the pickup stopped in front of the cabin.

Ray got out first, saying, “I have to load up some stuff that I want to take home. Why don’t you take a walk and see the sights? There’s a path that goes around the lake. I’m not in a hurry, so take your time.” Lee just nodded.

At first, Lee had been excited. But now that they had arrived and the elusive lake was finally in front of him, the excitement seemed to fade. Moving as if he was in a trance, Lee got out of the pickup and started up the path toward where he knew the painter had done her work. His head and eyes scanned the area repeatedly as if he was memorizing every rock and tree. But, in truth, nothing was really registering. It seemed like he was moving in a dream.

He didn’t know what he’d expected, but this wasn’t it. He’d anticipated this moment for months and had expected excitement and some kind of profound emotion. But it wasn’t there. He felt dead inside. It was just another lake.

The trees are bigger than they were in the painting
, he thought, in an attempt to arouse his inner self. But that meant nothing to the zombie he’d become. He continued walking down the little fishing path, trying to understand why he felt this way. Mentally he began cursing himself. Why had he wasted six long months on this if it meant nothing? Why didn’t it mean anything? Had he become so calloused that an event like this was just another day? What in hell was wrong with him?

Soon he rounded the far end of the little lake and found himself on a small hill that projected slightly into the lake. He knew that this was the place from which Ray’s mother, Hilda had created the painting. The view was exactly as the picture had shown. He sat on a large rock, lost in thought, studying the scene around him.

As he sat, lost in thought, a huge golden eagle circled above him and came to rest on a tree about a hundred feet up the lake from him. He watched it idly, thinking that if he sat still he might be able to see it catch a fish. But it just sat on the branch, almost as if it was watching him.

It was a magnificent bird. His mother would have appreciated it, he thought. She’d had a thing for this particular kind of bird, having seen them in various zoos. She’d always argued with his father that the golden eagle was far more beautiful than the nasty old bald eagle and it should be our national bird. His father, the traditionalist, had always stoutly defended the maligned bald eagle. It had been a playful argument that Lee remembered hearing at least a dozen times while he was growing up. He smiled at the memory and continued returning the golden eagles haughty stare.

Then suddenly he heard a loud “Swoosh” behind and above him. Startled, he turned his head toward the noise. It was a bald eagle and it was easily as large as the golden that Lee was watching. It circled above him, then glided across the lake, coming to rest on a tree within twenty feet of where the golden was still silently watching Lee. It settled on its perch and turned toward Lee. Now both birds were silently watching him!

Astounded, Lee reacted by standing, his mouth dropping wide open, his eyes locked on the two birds across from him. Even though he had moved suddenly, the two big birds stayed still and silent.

Lee’s thoughts tumbled over one another in sheer confusion. This wasn’t normal. These two kinds of eagles didn’t associate in the wild. This couldn’t be happening! But it was! Without thinking, he silently mouthed the words, “Holy shit”. He couldn’t wrap his head around this.

Then it came to him, as clear as if someone had put the words in his head. This was goodbye! This was the goodbye that he had never had back in Pennsylvania. Those magnificent birds were there to say farewell to the boy that had been left alone that winter’s day. Lee sat with a thud and the long-lost tears came in a flood. His body shook and his sobs were clearly audible in the silent forest. Yet the birds held their positions in their trees. His eyes never left them and later he would tell his children that their eyes never left him.

This seemed to go on for an eternity to the emotional boy, but it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. Gradually he brought his body and his sobs under control. Taking his handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped his eyes and nose. He sat straighter and watched the
eagles. He watched as the bald eagle finally moved, turning its head to look over at the golden eagle. It might have been Lee’s imagination, but it looked like the bald eagle nodded at the other bird. Then it launched itself from the tree and soared across the lake, turning just before it got to Lee’s position and taking flight toward the sky above the little cabin. Soon it was just a dot on the western horizon.

When the bald eagle finally disappeared, it seemed to be a cue for the golden. It left the tree in a path identical to that taken by the first bird. As it turned above Lee, it gave voice to a sound that could not be described as anything other than a scream. The loud piercing noise went on as the bird crossed the lake, trailing off as it went over the cabin. After a while it disappeared, far off in the mountain sky.

Lee found that he was once again standing. The tears were running down his cheeks in a steady stream and he was shaking so hard that he was afraid he would fall. But strangely, he felt at peace. Looking at the sky where the birds had disappeared, he softly murmured to himself, “Goodbye, Mom. Goodbye, Dad. Goodbye.” Somehow he knew they heard him.

Lee never remembered the walk back to the cabin. It seemed like one moment he was at the end of the lake and the next he was in the pickup as it pulled away.

Ray had heard the plaintive cry of the golden eagle and he remarked on it as they drove away. He said that it was the first time he’d ever heard an eagle’s scream. It had brought him out of the cabin at a run, just in time to see the big bird fly over him.

Lee didn’t tell him about the other eagle or the message the two birds had carried for him. It was something that he wouldn’t be able to share for a very long time.

CHAPTER ELEVEN: THE ENCOUNTER

A
s they crested the hill above the lake, Ray slowed and then stopped the car beside the big rock cairn with the cross on it. He removed his hat and stared quietly at the cross for a long moment. Then he put his hat back on and shifted the pickup into gear. Looking over at Lee, he quietly said, “My cousin died here a few years ago. I never leave without saying hello to him.” Lee just nodded. He still didn’t trust his voice to speak coherently.

The ride downhill from the lake was awkward for both Lee and Ray. Ray kept a steady dialog going about the “screaming eagle” as he called it. He had seen Lee’s reddened eyes and shaking hands and didn’t want to mention anything that might further upset the boy beside him. He didn’t realize that the mention of the eagle right now was the worst thing he could have done.

Slowly they made their way downhill, then turned to cross the side of the bare hill. They rounded a sharp corner on the mountainside and Ray brought Lee to an upright position with a sharp, “What the hell?”

The road ahead was almost completely blocked by a truck that was parked sideways across the ruts in front of them. Ray geared down the pickup and slowed as he approached the roadblock. As he did, two men came around the rear of the truck to confront them. The smaller of the two was smiling widely. He was a small man with swarthy skin and he was carrying a rifle in the crook of his arm. The larger of the two was a blond giant of a man with a pistol holstered at his waist. He had a baseball bat in one hand, swinging it playfully as if it weighed nothing.

Ray’s reaction was immediate. “Dammit! It’s that goddamned Bill Wards. What in hell is he up to?” He abruptly changed his mind about stopping. Instead, he accelerated slightly and pointed the pickup at the narrow space between the front of the truck and the hillside. The pickup’s right wheels bit into the hillside and the truck tilted dangerously. The blond man held up his hand, palm forward in the traditional gesture indicating they should stop. Ray continued forward and the pickup tilted further.

The huge man said something to his companion. The smaller man lifted the rifle, pointed it, and fired. A hole appeared as if by magic in the windshield between Ray and Lee. Ray hit the brakes and the pickup stopped, still leaning dangerously on the side of the hill.

Ray threw his door open and came out in one leap. Ignoring the rifle, he charged directly at the big man. Calmly, Wards waited for him. Then, almost casually, he swung the baseball bat in one hand as if he were swatting a fly. The bat caught Ray in the ribs and he went down, gasping. The big man was smiling now, an arrogant, evil smile. “Shit Ray, I thought you knew better than that.”

Ray sat up, his arms tightly holding himself where the bat had done it’s work. “What do you want, Wards?”

“Just thought I’d show you something, Mr. Moore.” He turned to his companion. “Watch the kid in the pickup.”

The swarthy man turned toward Lee and pointed the rifle. Still smiling, he spoke for the first time, “Don’t move, Amigo. Hands up!”

Lee had been struggling to get the passenger door open so he could help. But it was an uphill push and the door had become stuck against a bush on the hillside. Helpless, he’d watched as his friend was battered to the ground. Reluctantly, Lee raised his hands shoulder high in a gesture of surrender.

Wards turned his attention back to Ray. “Get up, you asshole. I want to show you something.” Slowly and painfully, Ray came to a standing position, still bent and holding his middle.

Wards expression was one of arrogant disdain as he looked down his long nose at the injured man. “Follow me.” With that, he turned and walked over to the edge of the hill where he stood looking down toward the creek below them. Impatiently, he waited for Ray to get there.