Keeper of the Lambs

by Sue Clifton

  “Look here!” Harri followed tracks from the window to the woods. “No way those are Steve’s. They’re not much bigger than mine.” Harri placed her foot next to the track to compare. “Could have been a woman, albeit a woman who didn’t care much for fashion, since this sole shows some serious wear.” Harri was bent over with her finger in the holes shown in the dirt. “Not to mention the tracks look like they were made by work boots.”

  “I don’t think it was a woman. The yell I heard sounded male.” Cayce went to the back of the window and found more tracks, but they came toward the bathhouse, not away from it. “Let’s follow these and see where he came from.”

  They followed for a few minutes, but lost the tracks again at the woods. Noticing a path a few yards away, Cayce walked toward it.

  “Where do you think this goes, Harri?”

  “Only one way to find out.”

  The two headed up the path and soon came to a small cabin that looked just like the ones not yet restored in Bar None, but this one had been refurbished somewhat, although not professionally. Built of wood, but not log, it had a red metal roof. The windows were all trimmed in red like Teesh’s, and two red straight chairs sat on the porch. Cayce thought the owner of this cabin and Teesh must have shared a gallon of red paint.

  As Cayce and Harri approached, they saw the curtain move at the window. In a matter of seconds, the door opened and Steve stuck his head out.

  “Howdy, ladies. See you made it through the night.”

  “Did you think we wouldn’t?” Harri asked with attitude.

  “Nope. Didn’t doubt you for a minute. Had coffee yet? I just made a fresh pot.” Steve opened the door, and Harri and Cayce entered.

  The cabin was surprisingly clean, for a bachelor’s domain, but was furnished sparsely. A crudely constructed table with three straight chairs separated the kitchen area from the living room-slash-bedroom, another keeping room like Teesh’s but with no extra room attached. The main part of the room was furnished with a worn recliner, a platform rocker, a rustic pine log bed with a sunken spot in the middle, and a table that held a fat, old-timey twenty-inch TV with a video player and several stacks of videos—no DVDs.

  “No satellite TV out here? Guess I won’t be watching my shows for a couple of weeks. That will be a real hardship.” Harri shifted her gaze from the TV back to Steve, who held the coffeepot while taking stained coffee mugs from the cabinet.

  “Thanks, Steve, but we’ve got the coffeepot set up and ready to brew when we get back to the hotel. We need to head back pretty quick. We’re just out tracking.” Cayce decided to tell Steve about the Peeping Tom and gauge his reaction. She was disappointed to get no reaction at all.

  “Well, that could be Charlie. He’s a recluse that lives up the valley. He comes to Bar None a lot, mostly at night. Charlie’s a real night owl. I would have warned you about Charlie in due time. Kinda keeps watch over the town. I’m sure he didn’t mean no harm. Just a curious sort. Checkin’ you out to make sure you’re not intrudin’.” Steve took a sip of his coffee while directing his gaze at the sisters.

  “Intruding? I’d say it’s the other way around.” Harri sat in one of the straight chairs at Steve’s table, obviously wanting to hear more.

  Cayce pulled out a chair and sat across from her. Wanting to be polite and to get information, she decided to take Steve’s offer. “Actually, I’ll take a coffee, Steve, but just half a cup. It smells good.” She knew Harri would not drink any. She was far too germ-conscious to risk drinking from one of Steve’s cups, especially with no sign of running water in the cabin.

  Steve handed Cayce a cup with a spoon and put sugar and cream in front of her.

  “You sure you don’t want coffee, Harri?” Steve asked, still holding the pot.

  “No, thank you. I’m fine. But I do want to know about Charlie. I’m not particularly fond of peepers, especially if I’m the peepee.” Harri crinkled her brows together and gasped. “Wait a minute. That didn’t come out exactly right.”

  Cayce and Steve laughed.

  “Don’t know much to tell about Charlie. He don’t talk hardly at all. I’ve never got him to carry on a conversation as such. Just comes and goes as he pleases.” Steve sat at the table. “Every once in a while, he’ll come ’round and buy some of my flour, coffee, rice, and oatmeal—necessary supplies like that—but he mostly keeps to himself. He picks berries and catches trout, but that’s about it. A real animal lover, that one, and won’t even keep trout for himself, but he’ll catch ’em for me and Teesh.”

  “He sounds like an interesting character. And it sounds like you and Teesh are his best friends.” Cayce smiled and looked at Harri to see if she was looking more at ease as she learned more about her Boo Radley, the character from Harri and Cayce’s favorite book of all time, To Kill a Mockingbird.

  “I like Charlie, but he and Teesh are like family to each other. I think Teesh keeps him in clothes and anything else he needs to survive. Charlie’s kind of childlike. He’s probably forty or so years old, but his mind is like about a five- or six-year-old in most ways. He’s a little feller. Wears an old brown hat that’s seen better days. Keeps it pulled way down on his head and makes his ears stick straight out, kind of elfish-looking. Tough as a pine knot and fit as an athlete. He’s here one second and gone the next. That little guy can run like the wind.”

  “You don’t know anything about him?” Harri asked after taking a drink of her coffee.

  Steve shook his head. “I’ve never asked. He leaves me alone, and I leave him alone. Every once in a while, I’ll find some fresh fish or a bucket of berries he’s left for me on the front porch. He’s a pretty good neighbor that way.”

  “About that satellite phone, Steve. Do you think we could borrow it and check in with Joshua? I’m hoping he’ll send me one by Hank Coulter. If I ever see Mr. Coulter, that is.”

  “Sure. You can keep it. I don’t have no need of it. It’s a pain in the ass to remember to charge it, anyway. I don’t have electricity, but Joshua says he’s gonna hook me up pretty soon. Some guy who thought he wanted to buy a ghost town come up here one summer and parked his fancy RV up by the spring. He had a big ol’ heavy generator that ran off diesel and didn’t want to take it with him when he got his belly full of ghost town living. He give it to me. I keep it full of diesel but don’t use it ’cept to watch John Wayne or Jeremiah Johnson ever’ once in a while. Now I have to run it to keep that dadgum satellite phone charged. If I need to tell Joshua anything, I’ll just tell Hank. Tell Joshua I give it to you, so he won’t be calling me.”

  “What kind of vehicle does Hank drive?” Harri must have been thinking about the yellow Dodge truck that almost ran them off the road.

  “Drives a new yellow truck. He was here yesterday with a couple of workers but left in kind of a hurry. I was panning down on the creek and saw him pass just a-flyin’, like the devil was chasin’ him.”

  Harri straightened at the mention of “panning.”

  “So do you get much gold out of this creek?”

  “Enough to survive. Don’t look to make a fortune.”

  “Do you mind if I watch you sometime? I bought myself a pan at the antique shop and would sure like to give it a go.”

  “Not at all. It’s pretty easy. Even Charlie can do it. He pays me in gold when he needs groceries and don’t have nothin’ to barter.”

  When Cayce and Harri got back to the hotel, Hank’s dirty yellow truck was “cowboy’d up” in front of the hitching post next to Hawk.

  “Be nice, Cayce. He might have had a good reason to have been speeding down that road yesterday.”

  “Aren’t I always nice?” Cayce opened the door to the hotel and stomped in, gunning for the driver. He was in the kitchen pouring coffee, his back to the door.

  “So I guess it’s you I have to thank for almost giving me a heart attack yesterday. Where’d you learn to drive, Mister? Nascar?”

  The man turned around, and Cayce almost wished she
had taken Harri’s advice. Hank Coulter was every bit as good-looking as Joshua, but in even more of a cowboy way. He was tall and had thick, prematurely gray hair that hung a little long over his ears. His blue chambray shirt was laundered to perfection with heavy starch and fit him tightly, showing off muscular arms and chest. His Wranglers, molded to his trim physique, fit him “real good,” as cowgirls would say, with heavily starched creases that glistened under the hotel lights and ran the full length of his muscular legs from boots to pockets, like track lights to heaven. Like on all true cowboys, his jeans hung long over his boots, dragging the floor a little. The day-old scruff of a beard outlined a rugged but handsome face.

  “Oops!” The cowboy looked sheepish and held out the mug of coffee he had just poured to Cayce.

  “Oops! Is that all you’ve got to say for yourself? You could have killed us, and all you can say is oops? Is that your way of apologizing?” Cayce stepped closer and folded her arms, staring at him.

  “Take the coffee, and I’ll explain, but I need a cup myself.” He forced the cup into Cayce’s hands and turned to Harri. “How about you, ma’am? Coffee?”

  “Yes, but I’ll get it. You appease my little sister.” Harri reached in the cupboard for a mug and poured herself a cup of coffee, stalling with the cream and sugar.

  “All right.” Cayce sat at the table with her hands wrapped around the mug of coffee. “I’m ready. Let’s hear it.”

  “First of all, I’m Hank Coulter. You two must be Cayce and Harri. I trust from the description Joshua gave me you would be Cayce.” The cowboy sat across the table and smiled at Cayce.

  “True. But I want to know why you ran me off the road.” Cayce took too big a sip of her coffee and put her cup down fast, spilling it on the table. She frantically waved her hand at her mouth. “Oh! That’s hot.”

  “Coffee generally is. Sorry! Should have put a warning label on it like they do at MacDonald’s.” Hank didn’t laugh, but the twinkle in his eyes gave him away.

  “It’s not funny!” Cayce yelled at Hank as she wiped tears from her eyes.

  “Is she always like this?” Hank turned to Harri.

  “Only on her good days.” Harri brought her coffee to the table and sat between Hank and Cayce. “You really don’t want to be around her when she’s having a bad day.”

  “Okay. I call a ceasefire. Let me explain about yesterday.” Hank put his cup down. “We were finishing up the roof on the back side of the cat house. My main roofer was up on the steepest part and, like a fool, did not tie himself off. Next thing I know, he yelled and came rolling off, right over the ladder. He grabbed hold of the ladder, and it broke his fall just enough to keep from killing him. Anyway, it was obvious his leg and his arm were broken, so I headed out with him to the hospital. I had a helicopter meet me at the service station and fly him to Idaho Falls. I’ve been there most of the night.”

  “Oh.” Cayce dropped her gaze, feeling sheepish. “Sorry for jumping on you like that, Hank. I should’ve known something was wrong.” She took another sip of her coffee, being careful not to burn her lips again. “Will your roofer be okay?”

  “Yeah. But he’s finished with me. I can’t have my people ignoring safety codes like that. He scared me to death. I thought sure I was going to have to break some really bad news to his young wife. Not that a broken leg and arm aren’t bad enough.”

  “So what happened on the roof?” Harri asked.

  “I don’t know. Will—that’s the roofer—won’t talk about it. He said nobody would believe him and we’d think he was crazy, so he was keeping his mouth shut.” Hank took another sip of coffee.

  “That’s not the first thing that’s happened while we’ve been working on the cat house. We started restoring that building first, but so much stuff happened I was afraid I’d lose all my crew. I moved to Cole Springs Hotel, and the paranormal happenings—at least the bad activity—pretty much stopped.” Hank left the table and headed back to the coffeepot. Without asking, he topped off his and Cayce’s cups.

  “Oh, we’ve seen shadow figures,” he continued, “and the lady in black peeking at us from upstairs, but it was nothing trying to harm us.” Before Hank sat back down, he backed up to the counter, propping his hands behind him. “You wanta know what’s really strange?”

  Cayce and Harri gave Hank their full attention without nodding, and Hank went on.

  “As long as we were working on Belle’s living quarters—you know, the addition behind the hotel—well, everything was fine. But as soon as we started on The Nugget, the saloon or cat house, whichever you prefer to call it, all hell broke loose.”

  “How so, Hank?” Harri asked.

  “The men would nail boards on the walls or ceiling, and sometimes they’d pop loose and fly at them, barely missing them most of the time. One time, a carpenter got hit…cut a little gash in his forehead. Fortunately, Bill is a mean cuss, tough as nails. He just picked that board up without saying so much as ‘dadgum’ and sailed it right back at the wall it came from. Bill is as big as a bull and just as strong. He broke two boards in the wall when he slung that board, and they had to be replaced.”

  “He didn’t quit?” Cayce asked.

  “Or curse?” Harri added.

  “No, Bill doesn’t curse, but he can sure bellow. These are his exact words—probably heard in the cemetery he yelled so loud—‘There ain’t a ha’nt or a demon alive that can scare ole Bill off.’ ” Hank laughed at the idea of a ha’nt being alive. “And Bill’s still here. In fact, if any of the guys get scared working in the cathouse, they just send for Bill, and he calms everything down. I think Belle has taken a shine to him. Must like the rough and unruly type. Bill, with his big muscles, must be good-looking to Belle and whoever else of the feminine variety still hangs out here. Just to keep the project going, I made Bill foreman. Bill was not here yesterday when Will fell off the roof. I think Belle was trying to tell me she missed Bill.”

  “I guess Joshua told you why he wanted Harri and me to come to Bar None.” Cayce rubbed her thumb over the side of her coffee mug, not looking up.

  “Yeah, he did. Three months ago, I would have said, ‘Hogwash,’ to the whole ghost thing, but not now. I am a full-scale believer in all things paranormal. Joshua says you ladies have a gift of some sort.”

  “Yes, from our father’s side of the family. We don’t publicize it, but it’s real. I just hope we can figure out what’s going on here and help Joshua and you,” Harri explained as she added more cream to the strong cowboy coffee.

  “I told Joshua he ought to leave the ghosts here, since that seems to be the trend nowadays. There have been all kinds of ghost-hunting groups wanting to be the first to stay here. I’ve had to run some groups off, and Steve has, too. Joshua is afraid somebody will get hurt and he’ll be sued. That’s another trend in today’s society.” Hank took another sip of his coffee.

  “So what’s on your agenda today, Hank? Do you have a crew coming out?”

  “No. They’re all working on the trail. I’m bringing horses over later in the week and riding up. You wanta come along? Joshua says you’re a real cowgirl, a Montana rancher and all. You’re welcome, too, Harri.”

  “Maybe you could get back to me about that. Harri and I are planning to check Bar None out pretty thoroughly.” Cayce glanced at Harri over her coffee cup and saw a twinkle in her eye. She knew what her sister was thinking.

  “Don’t get back to me, Hank. I don’t straddle horses. I tried it once and couldn’t walk for three days.” Harri looked at Cayce, who snickered. She had taken a picture of Harri on the short, fat horse named Roscoe, and her short legs stuck straight out. Harri’s feet had dangled out in midair most of the way up the mountain trail on that trip so long ago. She could not keep them in the stirrups that curved with the horse’s fat belly.

  “And, for future information, I’m not looking forward to this wagon trip I hear Joshua is taking us on. I’ll put the trail off as long as possible.” Harri took another sip
of coffee, grimaced, and pushed it back. “That has to be the strongest coffee I have ever tried to drink. No offense, Hank, but it tastes a little like bug spray.”

  “None taken. I forgot one of you is a delicate city girl when I added extra coffee to your setup. Is my brew okay for you, Cayce, other than being a little bit too hot?” Hank looked at Cayce and smiled.

  “No, it’s good. I like strong coffee.” Cayce took another small sip. “So you have had some paranormal experiences at Bar None too?”

  “If you want, I can show you two around,” Hank offered. “Show you the ‘hot spots.’ I think that’s what they call it on TV.” He left the table and put his cup in the dishwasher. “I have to run to town and pick up some supplies, but I’ll be back after lunch.”

  “We’ll probably start without you but would like for you to tell us what you’ve seen and heard and show us where it happened, when you get back. If you’re sure you can spare the time, that is.” Cayce looked at Harri again. She was grinning.

  “Sure. I’d be happy to. Believe it or not, I’ve had more happen right here in this hotel than anywhere.” Hank walked to the corner under the open staircase.

  “You see this old table here? We have repaired this leg four times, and it’s still loose.” Hank leaned over and moved the table, and it wobbled like it was ready to collapse.

  “Let me guess. That must be Peg’s table.” Harri walked over and shook the table.

  “You did your homework, Harri. This is Peg’s table. It was originally in the saloon, but Joshua had us bring it up here to fix it. It’ll go back to the saloon after we restore it.” Hank left the table and walked to the baby grand piano.

  “I’m not going to tell you what happens here. I’m staying here the rest of the week to finish up the roof of the cat house, so I’ll show you, but you have to get up about two-thirty a.m. It’s the most unbelievable thing I’ve ever seen. But I’m not telling you anything more.”

  “The witching hour,” Cayce said as she sat down on the piano bench.