by D P Lyle
She twisted in her saddle, first one way and then the other, and took in the scenery, every direction another beautiful vista. No, this was nothing like home.
As she admired the multi-colored peaks to the south, a movement caught her eye. Something dark, moving through the forest, high, near the tree line. She looked closer, but whatever it was had melted into the background. Maybe she hadn’t really seen anything. Maybe it was a bear. Or Billy. He had said he was headed up there somewhere.
Sam urged Chastity forward and caught up to the others. “Are there any bears around here?” Sam asked.
Burt nodded. “We see them occasionally. They mostly stay out of sight. Hide in the trees. They’ll come down and hunt in the meadows or drink from the streams from time to time.”
“What kind?”
“Black bears.”
“No Grizzlies?”
“Not in Colorado. Why do you ask?”
“Just curious.”
“Don’t worry,” Burt said. “They’re more afraid of you than you are of them.”
“I doubt that,” Alyss said.
“How much of this land is yours?” Sam asked.
“I have about two thousand acres. Hollis Larsen, my business partner, has about a thousand. And we jointly own nearly two thousand more.”
“Quite a spread,” Sam said.
Burt pointed toward town at a rocky outcropping near the base of the northern slopes. “Stretches from that ridge,” he turned Allegro in a tight circle and swept his arm in a 180-degree arc, “to near where that waterfall drops.”
Alyss had been right, Sam thought. Burt did own most of the valley.
“I’m disoriented,” Alyss said. “Where are we?”
Burt laughed. “This valley’s so deep and narrow that unless you know the subtle differences in the surrounding peaks, it’s easy to get turned around in here.” He twisted slightly in his saddle and pointed to a V-shaped groove in the mountains. “See that notch there?”
“The one right above town?” Shelby asked.
Burt nodded. “That’s where Highway 550 cuts through. That’s west.”
Alyss stood in her stirrups and pointed. “So, my place is over there?”
“That’s right,” Burt said. “About a mile as the crow flies over that little rise.”
“Who owns the land between yours and Alyss’?” Sam asked.
“Billy Bear Wingo. He owns about five hundred acres. Left to him by his old man.”
“That explains it,” Sam said.
Burt raised a quizzical eyebrow.
“I jogged through there yesterday.” Sam indicated the area to the west, toward Billy’s ranch. “I bumped into Billy.”
“What’d you think of him?”
“Huge.”
Burt laughed. “He is that.”
“Seemed nice enough,” Sam added.
“First impressions can be deceiving.”
“Oh?”
Burt raised his Stetson, ran his fingers through his blonde hair, and reseated the hat with a tug front and rear. “Let’s just say, Billy has always had a little problem with authority. He can be a handful.”
“I hear he’s had a few fights,” Alyss said.
“More than a few,” Burt said.
“I’d suspect a guy the size of Billy attracts challengers often enough,” Sam offered. “You know, guys feeling their testosterone, trying to whip the local bad boy. I see it all the time back home.”
Burt stared off at the peaks as if in thought.
“Do you think Billy had anything to do with Mr. Varney’s murder?” Sam asked.
“Don’t know. Wouldn’t surprise me though. Billy has a legendary temper.”
“So, Varney may have surprised Billy and...”
“Something like that.” Burt eyed her. “I’d bet you’re a good cop.”
“I try.”
“That’s why you should move here and work with Wade.”
“I must admit, I can think of worse places to live.”
They continued their ride, circling the lake. As they reached the apex of a gentle rise, Sam spotted a low cinder-block building with a metal roof. It sat in the deepest recess of the valley, well below Burt’s home, and backed against the eastern slopes. It was partially obscured by a grove of aspen trees, whose leaves scintillated in the wind.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“My lab,” Burt said.
“Lab? For what?”
“Hollis and I built it after we sold our pharmaceutical company. To continue some of the basic research we had going. Dr. Edgar Locke. You know him?”
Sam shook her head.
“Nominated for a Nobel several years back. Anyway, he ran it until he had a stroke about eighteen months ago. It’s been pretty much dead since then.”
“What kind of research?” Alyss asked.
“Fairly basic stuff. We can’t compete with the big boys, but we thought we might be able to contribute something anyway. At least that was the plan.”
“What do you mean by basic stuff?” Sam asked.
“You are the curious type,” Burt said.
“Like the proverbial cat,” Alyss added.
Burt laughed. “Nothing Earth shaking. You’ll probably find it boring, but I’ll tell you all about it when we get back to the house, if you want.”
Chapter 16
After they returned the horses to the stables, where Carlos awaited them, they drove back to the house. Burt gave them a tour. A partial one anyway. The rambling home was simply too expansive to take in at one time. Ten bedrooms, 14 baths, a study, a gym, and an entertainment room complete with a wall sized screen, overhead projector, and theater seating.
“I love old movies,” Burt said. “Especially westerns and fifties and sixties sci-fi. Never outgrew either.”
They returned to the patio, now deeply shaded by the spruces. Carmelita appeared with a plate of homemade taquitos and a frosted pitcher of lemonade. The pitcher and the four matching glasses were exquisitely cut crystal.
Sam picked up one of the glasses and examined it. “These are beautiful,” she said.
Burt smiled. “Waterford. They belonged to my parents.”
Sam ran her fingers along the deep grooves, each perfectly cut. She pictured an old Irishman with gnarled and calloused fingers hunched over a workbench, a roaring fire in the background.
Carmelita poured the lemonade. “How was your ride?” she asked.
“Great,” Shelby said as she snatched a taquito from the tray. “We saw some deer and a pair of foxes. Oh, and a bobcat.”
“A bobcat?” Carmelita said. “You are lucky then. They don’t show themselves very often.”
“He was cute,” Shelby said. “Little tufts on his ears and that tiny little tail. I’ve never seen one before. Except at the zoo.”
Carmelita smiled. “Anyone want cerveza?” she said.
Everyone declined.
“Let me know if you need anything else.” Carmelita disappeared into the house.
Burt stretched open his hand and then balled it into a fist, frowning.
“Hurt your hand?” Sam asked.
“Arthritis. One of the prizes for getting older. Hands, knees, back.”
Sam flexed her own hands. Still painful and slightly stiff. The thought that boxing might not be healthy for her joints crossed her mind. “I know the feeling,” Sam said.
“You’re too young for arthritis,” Burt said.
“She fights,” Alyss said.
Burt raised an eyebrow.
“Boxing,” Sam said.
“You? You hardly look the type.”
“I’ve been at it about a year. Had three bouts.”
“Won them all by knock out,” Alyss said.
“I guess you don’t like to lose?” Burt said.
“You know what they say,” Sam said. “In boxing, second place is last place.”
“I’m impressed,” Burt said. “Remind me to never make you mad.”
“She was on TV Friday night,” Alyss said. “HBO. Caesar’s Palace. The whole deal.”
“Well, that deserves a toast.” Burt walked to the kitchen door, peeked inside, said something to Carmelita, and returned to his seat. Carmelita appeared with four small crystal glasses, whose pattern matched that of the larger ones, and an ornate decanter of Remy Martin Louis XIII cognac.
Carmelita poured the golden liquid into three of them, and then eyed Alyss with a raised eyebrow.
Alyss smiled. “Shelby can have a little. After all, she’s seventeen.”
Shelby beamed at her mother.
Carmelita poured a little for Shelby.
Burt raised his glass. “To Sam. The undefeated pugilist.”
They all nodded toward Sam and took a sip.
Shelby coughed, and then exhaled through pursed lips. “Wow. That’s strong.”
Burt laughed. “It gets better. The first taste is always a jolt.”
They sat quietly, savoring the cognac.
“You were going to tell us about your lab,” Sam said.
Burt leaned back in his chair. “Hollis and I owned a pharmaceutical company in Houston. We sold it a few years back.”
“Why?” Sam asked. “Seems like that’s a good business to be in now.”
Burt swirled the cognac in his glass. “It got too big. Too complicated. I like number two yellow pencils, not computers.”
Sam laughed. “I agree with that.”
“When Hollis and I started the company, we had pencils and a ledger book. I could thumb through the pages and tell you exactly how we were doing. I had a feel for the columns of numbers.” He swept his hair back from his forehead. “Then, we outgrew our britches. Computers came in, ledgers disappeared. Everything was hidden in a silicon chip. And even if one of our computer jockeys pulled out what I wanted, it looked funny. Like the numbers were artificial. I felt like a blind man in a dark room.”
“That’s the price of success, I guess,” Sam said.
“That’s when Hollis and I decided to sell out. Then, we came up with the idea of setting up our own lab. Turn back the clock. Do things the old-fashioned way. Here. Away from the bureaucrats. Away from the FDA clowns.”
“FDA? I thought they had to approve everything anyway?” Alyss said.
“Eventually. But, unless you’re doing human or animal research, you won’t likely make a blip on their radar screen.”
“Especially here,” Sam said.
“Exactly.”
“How did you get involved in pharmaceuticals anyway?” Sam asked.
“My degree is in chemical engineering, but I gravitated toward the biomedical and pharmaceutical side. Hollis is a business whiz. It was a good combination.”
“What kinds of things were you doing?” Alyss asked.
He flexed his hands again. “Our main focus was developing new and better arthritis drugs. Everything on the market had too many side effects.”
“Any progress?”
“Some,” Burt nodded. “Not enough to help my joints though.” He spread his fingers, and then flexed them.
Alyss reached out and took his hand. “They seem fine to me.”
He smiled and cradled her hand in his. “They look better than they feel.”
Sam winked at Alyss and got a mock scowl in return.
“How can you develop an arthritis drug without testing it on animals or humans?” Sam asked.
Burt let go of Alyss’ hand, drained his cognac, and then refilled his and Alyss’ glasses. He held the bottle toward Sam but she waved it away. Shelby shook her head.
“The lab here was a chemistry lab,” he said. “Our efforts were directed toward tweaking already available drugs to make them more effective or to reduce side effects.”
“Tweaking?” Sam said.
Burt laughed. “That’s a scientific term. Drugs are just chemical compounds. Each compound’s action in the body is dictated by its structure. If you alter the structure, you alter the effect.”
“How do you do that?” Alyss said.
“That’s where chemistry comes in.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. “If you add a couple of atoms here and there, or take a few away, or move them around in certain ways, you change the compound completely. Structurally, the difference between cyanide gas and water isn’t much. One is hydrogen and cyanide and the other is hydrogen and oxygen. But, the difference in their action is literally life and death.”
Sam nodded. “I see. If you take an existing drug and move its atoms around or add some others to it, you get a drug with different effects.”
“Exactly. Maybe more effective. Maybe less side effects.”
“Fascinating,” Alyss said. “And if you make a new drug, what happens then?
“Had we developed anything promising, we would have sold it to one of the large companies for testing. That’s when the animal and human experiments would come in.”
“I’m impressed,” Alyss said. “Did you get any new drugs tweaked?”
Burt laughed. “Unfortunately, no. Close.”
“But, Dr. Locke had a stroke,” Sam said.
“Right.”
“Why not hire someone else?” Alyss said.
“It’s not that easy.” Burt leaned back in his chair again and turned toward Alyss. “Qualified researchers are hard to come by. They work in universities, for the government, or big companies. Not in small backwoods setups like we had.”
“You found Dr. Locke.”
“Lucky break. He was 70 and retiring. And he wanted to live here.”
“What are you going to do with your lab now?” Sam asked.
Burt shrugged. “I guess it’ll keep collecting dust like it has for the past year and a half.”
Alyss glanced at her watch. “We’d better get going. I have guests.”
Sam drained her glass and stood. “Burt, it’s been a pleasure.”
“Come back anytime,” he said. “In fact, I’m having a barbecue on Wednesday. My son Conner will be here. He just finished his first year at Princeton. And Hollis and his daughter Kelly will be here. Please come.”
Alyss nodded. “We’d love to.”
Burt walked them to their car, his hand resting on Alyss’ shoulder. “See you Wednesday,” he said to Alyss as he held the door for her.
“I’m looking forward to it,” Alyss said.
Sam waved, got in, and cranked her Jeep to life. As she wound down the driveway, she winked at Shelby in the rear view mirror. “Alyss has a boyfriend. Alyss has a boyfriend,” she chanted.
Shelby howled with laughter and joined Sam’s chant. ” Mom’s got a boyfriend.”
Alyss flashed a scowl over her shoulder at Shelby. “Ok, you two. Knock it off.”
*
After they returned home, Sam showered, made a cup of herbal tea, and curled up on the porch swing.
The sun had dropped behind the peaks to the west so that it tinted only the upper most snowcaps of the eastern slopes a rich golden hue. A cool breeze flowed up the valley, which lay in deep shadows. Sam pulled the cuffs of her over-sized sweater down so that only her fingers protruded. Cradling the cup with her fingertips, she sipped the warm tea.
Her thoughts settled on their visit to Casa Grande and on Burt Eagan. Something about him bothered her. A vague uncomfortable feeling she couldn’t define.
He had been a gracious host and was handsome, successful, and definitely charming. Definitely intelligent. He was obviously attracted to Alyss and from the moony-eyed look that crept into Alyss’ face, the vibe seemed mutual.
Sam had always preferred the rugged, two-day growth type. The guy in jeans, work shirt, and a pick-up truck. Except for Nathan that is. Nathan was definitely GQ and like Burt very charming. But, if Nathan was anything, he was honest and caring. She didn’t get that same feeling from Burt.
Gazing up the valley, she saw two people running through the meadow toward her. As they drew closer, she recognized the Kendalls. Deb
bie led, Kurt ran on her heels, urging her forward. After last night’s lovemaking marathon, Sam was amazed they possessed the energy for jogging. They came up the drive, each glistening with sweat, drawing air in great gulps.
“Nice jog?” Sam asked.
Kurt, bent over, hands on his knees, raised one hand and sucked in several more breaths. “We weren’t jogging,” he gasped. “We were being chased.”
“By who?” Sam stood and glanced back toward the valley, searching the shadows for a pursuer. Her hand reflexively reached toward the small of her back for her gun, which of course wasn’t there.
“Don’t know,” he said, finally catching enough breath to stand up.
“Something big. And hairy,” Debbie said.
Sam noticed Debbie’s use of “something” and not “someone.” She also saw the tearstains on Debbie’s cheeks, her pale, drawn face, and the tremors that rippled through her body. The poor girl didn’t know what she was saying.
Sam stepped off the porch and walked to where the couple stood. She gently laid a hand on Debbie’s shoulder. “You OK?”
“No.” Debbie burst into tears. Kurt wrapped his arm around her. “It was awful,” she said.
Sam flashed on her encounter with Billy the day before. “A big man? With a beard?”
“This wasn’t a man,” Debbie said. “At first, we thought it was a bear.”
“Maybe it was,” Sam said.
“No,” Kurt added. “It moved upright. We startled it and it ran away. Hid in the trees. But, then it seemed to follow us.”
“I thought you said it chased you?” Sam asked.
“Maybe,” Kurt said. “I don’t know. We took off and never looked back.” He sniffed back his own tears. “All I could think of was getting Debbie out of there.”
Debbie’s tears flowed again and she nuzzled into her husband’s chest. He stroked her hair.
“It’s OK, now,” he said.
“Where were you?”
“Up there.” Kurt pointed toward the slopes just east of the inn. “About half way to the tree line.”
That was near the area she had run into Billy. And she had initially thought he was a bear, too. She told them of her encounter.
“I don’t know,” Kurt said. “This thing moved with incredible speed and agility for its size. And it smelled bad.”