by Phil Truman
“Sunny’s in there. He’s going after Sunny,” Hayward said.
He started to move forward, his shotgun held high. Soc put an arm out to restrain Hayward. When Hayward looked back at him, Soc shook his head and said, “Wait.”
“What’re you doing? We got to go help Sunny,” Hayward said. When he turned to continue on to the cellar, Soc grabbed Hayward’s shotgun at the barrel and pulled it down. He just shook his head “no” more vigorously and resumed his singing.
The creature emerged from the cellar with a large earthen jar tucked under one arm, holding something else in its other hand. He trotted toward the elders’ position. When he got next to the corner of the barn where Hayward and Soc stood, some twenty feet away, he stopped and looked at them. He seemed intrigued by Soc’s singing, and cocked his head as he listened. Soc intensified the volume of his singing, laying his shotgun on the ground. Soc grabbed Hayward’s gun and forced him to lay it on the ground also. After a few seconds, the creature continued on its way, stepping over the rail fence, and loping across the field and into the trees beyond.
* * *
Sunny felt anger, hostility, regret, and sadness—but not fear—as she awaited her execution. She didn’t want to die, especially at the hands of these two bastards, but strangely, she didn’t fear it. She was mad, because it had to end like this. She felt hostility toward these two creeps, and sadness, because now she knew they had needlessly murdered Buck. And she was about to become their next victim... over what? She wished she’d made peace with that big stupid lug, Gale.
When the gunshot exploded, Sunny fell to her right, covering her head with her hands and arms. She squeezed her eyes shut, but felt no different. Did the little creep miss? Awaiting a second shot, pandemonium erupted instead. The men screamed and swore in panic, and then the second shot did come. She flinched, but again felt no impact. Her hands still covering her face, she opened her left eye and peeked between her fingers. What the–? Something large and hairy had just thrown one of her tormenters away. The hairy thing then bent down to enter the cellar, and came toward her. The moonlight seemed to create an aura around him. All she could think to do was squeeze her eyes shut again, and mutter round two of her prayer, which she did over and over for several minutes.
She heard Hayward say, “Sunny, Sunny, are you all right?”
Sunny opened her eyes and looked up. “Hayward?” She inquired. She looked beyond him to the cellar entrance and could see the outline of Soc standing there holding a gun, the barrel cradled in the crook of his left arm pointed upward. She got to her knees and started feeling around her body.
“Have you been shot?” Hayward asked. He picked up the flashlight and shined it on her.
“I don’t think so,” Sunny answered, still checking. Then she said, “I saw the most wondrous thing.”
In the light of the flashlight, Hayward could see she stared past him. “Wondrous?” he repeated back to her.
She blinked and seemed to snap back to the present a little, her eyes shifting back to Hayward. “Yes, uh, It... something saved me. It was a man, I think, only very hairy... and smelly.”
Just then they heard another gun go off. This had a different sound than the first, and it seemed much farther away. Sunny got to her feet, and pushed past Hayward and Soc to get out of the cellar. When she reached the top of the cellar steps, she saw White Oxley out in the barnyard with something in his hand. He stood over the hairy creature, looking down at him. “Oh no,” she said, and ran over to where White stood.
“What did you do to him?” she asked frantically.
“Do? I didn’t do nothing to the boy. He done it all hisself,” White explained.
The thing on the ground moaned and moved one of its wooly arms.
“It’s still alive!” Sunny said. She backed up a step and moved a little behind White. Hayward and Soc came trotting up to the small group. “What’s wrong with it?” Sunny asked. “What happened; did he get shot?”
“Naw, I don’t think so,” White replied. Then he hesitated, rubbing his chin. “As far as I can tell, the boy got hit in the head by a flying person. I think it was one of them bad guys, the littler of the two. The big’un come running up after them boys knocked heads, and the two of them—that big’un and the littler’n—run off that a way,” White indicated the direction. “On towards Artie’s place. I heard another shot go off out there in that pasture somewheres.”
As White pointed, Artie appeared out of the night running toward them, holding a pistol.
“Well, howdy, Artie,” White said congenially. “Did you see them fellers run past ya?” He looked down at the pistol in Artie’s hand. “Did you shoot one?”
The figure on the ground moved again and groaned louder. It tried to sit up. All but White moved back a step or two. Artie raised his pistol.
“Who—or what—the hell is that?” Artie said.
“Well, it sure as hell ain’t who you think it is,” White said. Then he reached down and yanked the ghillie head covering off Punch.
Sunny gasped and put both her hands to her mouth. “Oh, Gale!” she said. She fell to her knees beside the sitting, dazed Punch, and threw her arms around his neck “Oh Gale, you big, stupid idiot. You saved my life!”
Punch, still only about three-fourths conscious, tried to turn and look at his former girlfriend, but she had her face buried in his neck, sobbing. So he looked up at the four men encircling him and grinned stupidly. White shook his head, Hayward chuckled, Soc looked up at the moon, and Artie looked at all three with a quizzical expression.
Soc, for the first time noticing the small video camera White gripped in his right hand, asked him, “Did you record any of this?”
White held the camera up to eye level and squinted at the little view screen hinged out from the side of it. “I got some of it,” he said. “But I ain’t sure I got all of it. Battery’s done gone dead.” He shook the camera and slapped the side of it. “I hope to hell I got the Hill Man, especially that part where he tossed that little feller at Punch.”
White turned his head to look toward the cellar, then back at his camera. “Ain’t nobody gonna believe us if we just tell ’em what happened here tonight.”
Car headlights pulled into Sunny’s driveway and came toward the group standing in the barnyard. Artie broke off and walked toward the approaching car. “Did you call the sheriff?” he called out to Galynn. Before she answered, flashing blue and white lights came blinking over the hilltop a mile away, followed shortly by the sound of a siren.
In the distance, maybe a mile away in the direction of Artie’s house, the sound of two motorcycle engines firing up reached them. The engine noises receded as the bikes moved off into the night.
Chapter 28
Hayward Washes His Hands
Sheriff Bluehorse and his deputy took down the information. They’d separated the witnesses, as well as the victim of the assault, and had patiently taken their statements. Parts of those accounts seemed a little out there, but he had been around long enough to know people claimed to see more than they actually did, especially on a moonlit night; like those ten days back in ’81 when folks saw those UFO’s. He would have to say that in about ninety-five percent of those, alcohol consumption played a part.
He casually asked these folks, one by one, if they’d had any alcohol to drink that night, but only two said yes. Both had given the standard answer to the question: “Maybe a couple of beers.” He almost didn’t believe Artie Lancaster’s negative answer on the drinking question, knowing his history, but he decided to give the boy the benefit of the doubt. Besides, he looked clear-eyed and alert enough. Plus, he hadn’t said anything about seeing the Hill Man, like the others.
The tale sounded peculiar. Still, it amazed the sheriff how much parts of the statements meshed regarding what they all saw and the sequence of events. Several times, he’d taken other accounts of Hill Man sightings, but what the alleged creature did this time made these different. Only Sunny
Griggs didn’t seem convinced the Hill Man had paid them a visit. According to her, the inebriated Punch Roundstep, had rescued her from the perpetrators, not the Hill Man. In fact, she never even brought the Hill Man up, except in describing how Roundstep, in several other instances, had tried to scare her with what she called his “Hill Man nonsense.” That explained why Roundstep wore the camo-ghillie suit; it also seemed to back-up Sunny’s claim. Roundstep himself confessed that he’d come out there that evening for that very act.
But the others adamantly begged to differ. Old Hayward Yost said, “My eyes may not be what they used to, but I know what I saw. That creature stood at least nine feet tall, and what he did to those two guys, Punch couldn’t have done even twenty-five years ago in his prime, let alone tonight.”
Sheriff Bluehorse looked at Hayward with squinty-eyed suspicion. “I got to wonder, Hayward, what you and Soc got to do with all this. Why you even out here?” he asked.
Hayward looked nervously at Soc, and then Sunny. “Sunny was having some ’coon problems,” he said. “Me and Soc was out here trying to catch ’em for her.”
The sheriff looked at Sunny. “That’s right, Sheriff,” she said.
It would all go in his report, but the most intriguing part of the whole story was Sunny Grigg’s account wherein the two assailants had told her they’d killed Buck Buchanan. The burglary and assault charges would be enough to issue a warrant for the immediate arrest of those yayhoos, and once they brought them in for that, they would see about prying a confession from them on Buck’s murder, too.
“If those two killed Buck, I still don’t know why they done it,” the Sheriff said as he scratched the back of his head. “And then to come back out here. They must’ve been looking for something they didn’t get the first time. Any of you got any idea what that might be?
Hayward looked at his feet, and scuffed the ground. Soc looked at the sheriff with a stone face. White and Artie shook their heads, no.
A few seconds went by, then Sunny sighed and said, “I think it has something to do with the Belle Star Treasure.”
The Sheriff gave Sunny the same look he gave to UFO spotters. “The Belle Starr Treasure? Why, that old legend ain’t nothing but a myth. Don’t make sense why they’d kill Buck over something like that.”
Hayward cleared his throat. “Well, it’s true that treasure ain’t never been found, but she’s out there. And Buck did have something them boys wanted. You see, Buck had a letter written to his grandpa, Ned Starr, by the man who hid the treasure. That man was Belle Starr’s son. Him and Ned were friends. According to the letter, it told where the map to the treasure was kept, only it was wrote in a code that only Ned could understand.
“Buck, being a direct descendant of Ned Starr, was in possession of that letter. He said his grandmother gave it to him. If old Ned understood those clues, he never went after the treasure.”
“How do you figure these two bikers knew about it?” the sheriff asked.
“I think I know,” Sunny said. She sighed again and looked pained. She didn’t say anything for a while, as if trying to keep back some tears.
Finally, the sheriff said, “What is it you know, Miz Griggs?”
Sunny swallowed let out a long sigh and said, “My dad... my real dad, got a copy of the Ed Reed letter from Buck. I think Buck thought he’d let my dad have the adventure of the treasure hunt like hundreds before him. That’s how Buck was. I don’t think he thought Goat would ever find the treasure, just like all the others who’d tried.”
“Goat?” the sheriff asked looking up from his notepad.
“My dad,” Sunny said with a sniff. “That’s all I ever called him. I didn’t find out his real name until I was about fifteen. It’s Stanley Griggs. He worked with those two guys after he... after he got out of prison.”
“You know where he is?” the sheriff asked. Sunny shook her head.
“He called me right before I found out Buck had been... had died. Said he had to leave. Said he’d probably go on out to California.”
The sheriff nodded. “I’m going to try to track down your dad... this ‘Goat’ fella. Sounds like he could corroborate what those guys told you about their killing Buck.”
“Sheriff, would you mind following me over to my place,” Artie asked.
“I guess so, Artie. What you got?”
“Nothing about this. But, like I told you, those guys were headed towards my place when I met them.”
“Sure, we can do that,” Sherriff Bluehorse said.
“I think they took off, but I just want to make sure they’re not somewhere around there,” Artie added. “They must’ve left their bikes in my west pasture, and hiked over here.”
Sheriff Bluehorse put away his notepad and buttoned his shirt pocket. “I ’spect we better check that out, too.” He looked around at the small group. “Unless anybody has got anything to add, I think we’re about done here.”
“Miz Griggs.” The Sheriff turned to her after he had opened the door to his cruiser. “I don’t expect those two assailants to come back here tonight, but you never know. You got anywhere else you can stay?”
Sunny looked over at Punch who had gotten to his feet, and had gone to sit on the back porch. He held his head between both hands. “No, not really,” she said.
“I’ve got my RV out behind the barn,” Hayward offered. “I’ll pull her back out here, and we’ll stay the night, too. That was our original plan, anyway.”
Satisfied with that, the Sheriff got in his car and drove off, with Artie leading the way.
As the two elders walked back around the barn to the RV, Hayward said to Soc, “Well, that sure didn’t go as planned. The whole thing just fell apart. We’re damn lucky somebody didn’t get killed. We almost got Sunny killed, for crying out loud.”
“I’d say Catoosa As ga ya saved us,” Soc said.
“Who?”
“Hill Man. Hadn’t been for him, we’d have Sunny’s blood on our heads.”
Visibly shaken, Haywards said, “I’m done with this whole thing. It was a stupid thing we done. If Sheriff Bluehorse finds out we set this thing up, we could be charged as accessories.”
“Maybe. It did get a little out of hand,” Soc said. “But I think we got those bad guys right where we want them.”
“How’s that?” Hayward asked.
“Because they made off with what we wanted, and now they’ll be going to the Hill Man’s cave.”
Chapter 29
Galynn Recalls a Spot
Red Randy yelled in agony when Threebuck yanked his arm. It wasn’t the first time Randy’s humerus bone had to be popped back into the shoulder socket, so he instructed Threebuck on what to do, and gritted his teeth. When they reached their bikes, Randy knew he couldn’t handle the big hog with one arm, so he did what he had to do. He hurriedly stuffed the gunnysack with the deerskin inside into his saddlebags, and the two of them rode out of there as fast as those Harleys would take them.
Both were still pretty shaken over what’d happened. “What the hell had happened,” Randy asked himself out loud. The bike noise covered his voice, but even if Threebuck could’ve heard him, the question wouldn’t have registered. When the bridge of Threebuck’s nose struck... that tree, or bush, or whatever the hell it was, not only did it break his nose and eventually blacken both his eyes, but it also bruised his small brain. He wasn’t even sure where they were, what they had done, or why they rode hell bent into the night. But he did have this spinning memory of a nightmare in his semi-conscious mind of an enormous, foul-smelling monster hoisting him high and throwing him like a beanbag. He also found, for reasons he couldn’t remember, it felt extremely uncomfortable to sit astraddle the bike as it bounced along the roadway.
Randy knew they would most likely be hunted men at that point, so he decided they should head to the next town over to get a room and re-group. Despite all the things that had gone wrong, and that...strange encounter, Randy felt they’d accomplished their mai
n goal. They had found the key that told them where to find the treasure, but they no longer had the luxury of time on their side.
Thirty minutes after they roared away from Artie’s pasture, the two bikers pulled up to the office of a rundown motel on the edge of Goganville. Randy figured they would take one night to rest up, and then they could go to the treasure spot, gather it all, and head west before anyone tracked them down. With any luck they would be in Vegas in two days.
Randy dried his dripping face on a towel, and looked into the bathroom mirror. From there he could see the reflection of Threebuck laying on the bed, holding his head and groaning softly. What the hell happened tonight, he asked himself again. What the hell was that? The memory of all it ran over and over through his mind like some kind of horror movie. The third time he got to the part about the inscribed deerskin, he stopped. He suddenly remembered he had left it in his saddlebags.
After searching through the bags on his bike, both sides, and then Threebuck’s, he kicked the side of Threebuck’s bike several times, swearing with each kick. In his haste to leave, he must have forgotten to strap down the flap of the bag, and the gunnysack had bounced out. Well, he couldn’t retrace his path looking for it; that would probably lead him right into the waiting hands of the law.
He leaned against the seat of his bike, arms crossed at his chest, his left shoulder aching. He tried to remember the words written on that skin. He closed his eyes and tried to envision what he’d read when he shined the flashlight on that skin. An eagle looked at cliffs...killer of nine. Ninekiller? And a river bending...a cave...forest demon. The memory of the creature who had grabbed and tossed him like a bag of trash snapped into his mind’s eye, and he shuddered. A bear foot bends a river...was there such a place as Bear Foot Bend?