(1995) The Oath (33 page)

“You’ve no guess as to what it is?” Steve asked Clayton.

“No idea,” Clayton said. “And I’ve learned better than to ask.” Then he added, “And I’m sure some other people have seen it too; don’t let them kid you. They’ve seen it. They just don’t talk about it.”

Steve kept looking toward Saddlehorse. That beast had to have a lair, a nest, somewhere. Up on that craggy peak, perhaps?

“Some rumors have gotten around, though,” Clayton volunteered. “I’ve heard it’s a dragon—you know, like it breathes fire and everything. And then there’s the legend that it’s the devil, like a hundred years ago the early settlers made a pact with the devil and the devil became the patron saint of Hyde River. You hear wild stuff like that.”

“So how could a thing that size hide itself for so long?” Tracy asked.

“Maybe it wasn’t always that size,” Clayton responded. “And anyway,” he continued, “I don’t think it would have any problem hiding. First of all, nobody’ll talk about it. Second, you can hardly see it anyway, even when it’s right in front of you. And third, those mountains up there are full of caves and old mines, and some of them go really deep. It could find a place to hide, all right, and if it never came out except at night, it could go for years without being seen.”

“I never thought about the caves,” Tracy said. “But you’re right. That’s where Benjamin Hyde first found gold and silver. Some of the mines were started in the caves. They’ve been dug out and scoured so deeply—some of them go for miles.”

“So have you ever heard of it killing anyone?” Steve asked Clayton.

“Well, you must know about that guy who got killed up on Wells Peak a week or so ago. The rumors going around are that the creature did it.”

“Clay—” Jessie cautioned.

Clayton lowered his voice again, but countered, “Jessie, don’t worry so much.” He turned to Tracy and Steve. “There’s another legend that it only eats wicked people.” He chuckled and put his feet up on the porch railing. “Guess that gets me off the hook. I’m a pretty good person. I’ll probably do all right.”

Tracy and Steve stood and thanked Clayton for talking to them. As he walked to Tracy’s Ranger, Steve found himself hoping that Clayton was right—that he was off the hook. But Steve was convinced there were no guarantees.

“
DEPUTY ELLIS
, I’ll see you in my office.”

Collins was sharp, abrupt, and didn’t even look at her as he marched into his office. Tracy, just returned from her Sunday shift, followed him, knowing her rear end was about to get fried.

“Close the door.”

Yep. Fried.

She closed the door and stood silently before him while he gathered his thoughts and his papers and arranged his desk. Finally he said, “So how was your day and how did you spend it?”

“Largely uneventful, sir. I spent a lot of time with Professor Benson, helping him to resolve some issues so he could be on his way.”

Collins looked up. Perhaps he wasn’t expecting such a direct answer. “On the department’s time?”

“It was my regular shift, yes. I did my rounds, and he basically tagged along. I covered Hyde River, the upper Hatchet Creek draw, I stopped in to check a complaint regarding Charlie Mack—”

“What complaint?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t say complaint. It was more of a concern, actually. He hadn’t shown up at the tavern for a few days, so I stopped in at Charlie’s home to make sure he was okay.”

“And you had the professor with you?”

“Yes.”

“And why were you not driving your patrol car?”

“Sir?”

“Is something wrong with it?”

“No sir.”

“Then why were you driving your own private vehicle when you visited Charlie Mack?”

She thought for a moment, but didn’t lie. “Quite frankly, sir, I didn’t think it would look good for people to see a sheriff’s deputy with a man sharing her patrol car.”

Collins leapt to his feet. “But that was exactly the case, wasn’t it, Deputy? You were seen, in uniform, on duty, in the company of a man—a man, I might add, who is not popular out there in Hyde River, am I right?”

“You’re right, sir.”

“That was foolish, Deputy! Foolish and stupid!” He came around his desk and approached closely enough to yell directly into her face like a drill sergeant. It was an intimidation tactic, and it worked. She tried not to cringe, but couldn’t help it. “When you are in this uniform you shall conduct yourself like a deputy sheriff’s officer, and any personal interests you may have will be put aside, is that clear?”

“Sir—I was not acting out of personal interests.”

He smiled cruelly. “That’s perfume you’re wearing, isn’t it?”

“Why do you ask, sir?”

“You know good and well why I’m asking.”

“You wear aftershave; I wear perfume. Are you discriminating between the two, sir?”

He backed off. “Deputy—Tracy—let’s play it straight with each other. Your personal life is your business, and I won’t tell you what to do. But you’ve been spending time with this guy from Colorado while in uniform, and the folks in Hyde River are whining about it.”

She thought before responding. “I understand, sir.”

He locked eyes with her. “Meaning?”

“Meaning, I’ll be careful about appearances from now on.”

Her answer didn’t quite satisfy him. “Keep going.”

“I won’t let it interfere with my police work, sir.”

“So I won’t hear anything further about this, will I?”

“No sir.”

“All right. I’ll hold you to that.”

“Sir?”

“Yes.”

“Who told you about all this?”

He scowled at her, his hands on his hips, his head cocked sideways. “I don’t think that’s any of your concern.”

“And yet these people feel it’s their place to spy on me and question my actions right down to which vehicle I’m driving, as if I’m not allowed one inch of discretion? I’m not comfortable with that.”

“I don’t care a whole lot about your comfort level, Deputy. It’s my job to make sure you effectively do yours; that’s what it really comes down to.”

“Was it Harold Bly?”

He was about to snap at her, but let it go. “Good guess.”

She made no effort to hide her disgust. “I guess there’s nothing I can say to that.”

“No, there isn’t. We work for him. We work for all the people of this county. When they call, we answer.”

“Will that be all?” she asked, hoping her anger wasn’t evident in her voice.

“One more thing.”

“Yes sir?”

“How’s Evelyn Benson doing? Has Benson said anything about her condition?”

“I understand she’s doing well, sir.”

“Has she remembered anything she may have seen up on Wells Peak?”

“I haven’t heard. Who’s asking?”

“Oh—I was just wondering.”

Oh, I bet, she thought.

SUNDAY EVENING
Harold Bly arrived home with the pretty redhead Rosie Carson on his arm, not at all ready to find Phil Garrett waiting on his front steps.

“What do you want?”

“Boss, can I talk to you a minute?”

Harold said to Rosie, “Go on inside.”

She hurried past Phil and went into the house.

“All right, Phil, what is it?”

“What you said back at the tavern, I mean—”

“What?”

“Boss, you can’t just sit back and do nothing. You know we’ve got a problem here!”

Harold smiled a cunning smile. “Phil, you’re the one who has a problem, not me.”

Phil didn’t argue.

“What’s wrong with your chest, Phil?”

Phil jerked his hand away from his heart. He hadn’t even realized he was rubbing it. “Huh?”

“What’ve you got there, a mosquito bite or something?”

“Uh, yeah. Bad bite, Harold, that’s all.”

Harold bent close and spoke softly into Phil’s good ear. “You afraid of the dragon, Phil? Is that it?”

Phil struggled to get an answer out, then finally nodded.

“Phil, you’re the only one who can do anything about that.”

“But, boss, can’t you—”

“If you think the dragon’s after you, then, hey, if I were you, I’d be thinking of a way to appease the dragon, you follow me?”

“Appease him?”

“Sure. Make him happy, show him you’re on his side, do him a favor, you follow me?”

“But what can I do?”

Harold straightened up. “We’ve already talked about it, Phil. There’s somebody out there who’s seen the dragon. She could tell people about it—unless somebody does something to stop her.” He crossed the porch to his front door, then turned. “Let me know when you get it done. Once you get it done . . . I’ll see what I can do.”

And with that, he disappeared inside his house.

CLAYTON AND JESSIE GENTRY
were sitting in their living room watching television, and their two girls were in bed asleep. Clayton was in sweats, Jessie in pajamas and a robe. There was a bowl of popcorn between them on the couch, half-eaten. It was a very typical evening, and they weren’t expecting company, so when they heard a firm knock on the door, they looked at each other in surprise. Jessie, being closest, rose to answer it.

She opened the door and saw six men in black hoods standing on the porch. She gasped, then screamed. Clayton came on the run, and they both tried to slam the door shut, but a huge arm and a foot blocked the door, holding it open.

Jessie’s scream had awakened their daughters, who began to cry.

“Clayton,” came a rough-sounding voice, “this has got nothing to do with your wife and kids. Figure it out.”

“All right, all right!” Clayton hollered back.

Jessie looked at her husband, too frightened to speak.

“Go on, take care of the girls,” Clayton said.

She hesitated.

“Go on!” he repeated, then called out the door, “Ease up! I’m coming out!”

“NO!” Jessie cried. At that moment, the two little girls ran into the living room. She put her arms around them, and they clung to her.

Clayton took a last look at his family and then stepped outside, closing the door behind him.

“Now what do you want!” He was immediately seized by two men and pulled off the porch.

“Don’t worry,” said a third. “This won’t take long.”

The first blow landed in his stomach. He doubled over. Another hooded man grabbed a fistful of Clayton’s hair and straightened him up again.

“Didn’t we warn you about talking?” the man said, right before delivering a stunning blow to his jaw.

He tried to answer, but someone else hit him first, and then someone else, and then someone else . . .

STEVE HAD
settled in for the night in his camper, and now he sat at the table, poring over Forest Service maps again, trying to compare Clayton Gentry’s sighting of the creature with the location of Saddlehorse Mountain. If the creature had a nest or den anywhere near Saddlehorse, then Gentry’s sighting made sense. The real clincher would be talking with Jules Cryor, the miner working a claim right on the mountain. Steve was double-checking the directions Charlie had given him. The map showed several old mines in that area, so he figured the old man’s mine shouldn’t be too hard to locate. If Cryor could report any sightings, the search would be narrowed down indeed.

The next trick would be to gain some tangible evidence to establish that an undiscovered species really existed. He might be able to find droppings somewhere—droppings from a creature of this size should be unmistakable—or footprints from which to make plaster casts. The greatest prize would be a good photograph. With strong evidence, he could request help from the university, from the paleontologists he knew, from the entire academic and scientific community. Without such evidence, however, he was still chasing after a myth, and such professional people had no time for any more Sasquatches, Yetis, or Loch Ness monsters.

At any rate, having taken the leap and having accepted the existence of the creature and its basic description—he marveled at that development alone—he was willing to postulate that the creature was a nonextinct flying dinosaur. The famed Loch Ness monster, if it existed, was thought by many to be a prehistoric species that had managed to survive the millennia in the great depths of Loch Ness. Steve could theorize that the “Hyde River dragon” had managed to survive in these mountains because of its nocturnal habits, its below-ground habitat, and its unique and uncanny ability to conceal itself—an ability yet to be explained.

Steve tried to remain objective, but he was getting excited despite himself. The possibilities were absolutely staggering!

There had to be more than one if the species had survived from prehistoric times; perhaps there was a whole colony of them nesting under the mountain somewhere. Perhaps the creature really was carnivorous, a cunning hunter. Perhaps, in addition to wild game, it had also acquired a taste for human flesh, which would not be unusual. If so, the Coincidence Theory could make sense after all. A bear didn’t fit the theory too well, but a carnivorous dinosaur could fit nicely, coming back regularly to Old Town knowing it might find lone, distracted humans there, ready for the eating.

From these premises it was easy to see where all the myths and legends of Hyde River came from, and how those myths and legends served to conceal the creature’s existence from the outside world. A quirk of evolution, an anomaly, had fallen into the hands of simple people, and they’d attached moral, even spiritual significance to it. Like ancient pagans who worshiped the sun, they were worshiping and fearing something they didn’t understand.

Disturbing. Awesome. Incredible. Steve had to get back into those mountains. He had to learn more, and quickly! He—

The knock on the camper door was gentle, but it still made him jump. He was irritated at the interruption, then curious. These days, he never knew who might be outside this door. Or what their motive might be. He double-checked the accessibility of his .
357
and then asked, “Who is it?”

“It’s Sara, Dr. Benson. I’ve got someone here to see you.”

Sara, the lady who ran the RV park. He opened the door.

She was standing next to a tall, lanky, Lincolnesque character dressed in work clothes. “Dr. Benson, this is Reverend Woods from Hyde River. He’d like to have a word with you, if you don’t mind.”