Mountain Refuge

[suvalley]

*clap clap clap*

Bravo, Einar....let a little sunshine in

[gipsysmith]

OK now that he might be seeing the light, lets get him back in shape and back to the hills.

[FOTH]

Jul 15, 2013 22:04:47 GMT -6 suvalley said:

*clap clap clap*

Bravo, Einar....let a little sunshine in

Why is it suddenly so bright here in this tunnel...

Jul 16, 2013 10:09:32 GMT -6 gipsysmith said:

OK now that he might be seeing the light, lets get him back in shape and back to the hills.

Definitely needs to be back up in the hills! Way too close to civilization, down there...


Thank you all for reading!

[FOTH]

Liz was all for it, Einar’s resolve to make things better in this life, but before that could start to happen, she knew, they had to find a way to sustain life in the first place, for all of them. She and Will would be alright for a while even if forced to stay hidden in the depths of the mine without more than a regular supply of fairly fresh water to sustain them; Will would not be happy, might not be getting as much as he would like, but she was confident in her ability to go on making the milk needed to keep him going, at least for a while. Einar, though, had been far too close to the edge for too long to have any reserves left, and without food, reality was that he would soon succumb to the cold, and would no longer be with them.

Already the cold was taking its toll; Einar had never properly warmed from his trek through the snow, even after a night spent curled up with her in the blanket, and Liz knew that without the timely introduction of some significant source of energy, he was increasingly risking a hypothermic slumber that might well prove irreversible, under their present circumstances. He had stopped shivering in the minutes that had passed since the end of their conversation, and she was pretty sure it wasn’t because the topic, however inflammatory, had provided him with a sustained source of warmth. Suddenly very concerned at his stillness, she jabbed him with an elbow, letting out a silent sigh of relief when he stirred, reached for his knife and sat up a bit straighter.

“What…what’s…”

“I think it’s time to go back up to the entrance for more snow to melt. So we don’t run too low on water. Want to come with me?”

“Uh…”

Silence again, knife slipping to the floor, and she could feel him sagging, probably drifting back towards sleep. “Einar?”

“Yeah, I’ll go. Where’s the…the plastic stuff that we’re…”

“Let’s both go. I’ve got it right here. Why don’t you drink this little bit that’s left from the last batch, so we don’t spill it while we’re walking.”

Long way to the brilliant, snow-reflected daylight of the outside world, long walk, Einar insisting upon leading, checking the place as they went, fighting hard to stay on his feet, stay alert. Only after a thorough if squintily-viewed survey of the wide world beyond the mine entrance—was mighty bright out there, sunlight hurting his eyes, but he knew he’d have an advantage if required to face anyone in the darkness—did he beckon to Liz, who quickly joined him in the patch of sunlight falling golden and deliciously warm some five feet into the tunnel. Afternoon sunlight, and she soon had Will all stripped down to his diaper and sitting on her lap in that sheltered, wind-free spot, laughing delightedly at the feel of the sunlight on his skin.

Diligently gathering clean snow, wrapping it in the scrap of plastic and setting this in the sun to begin its melting Einar joined them, eyes soon closed, head leaned back against the rock, shivering again after a while, and Liz was glad, knew it meant the sun was doing its work, buying him some time.

* * *

Susan had told Bud about the mines before, but now she got out the maps, spread them on the kitchen table and showed him, told him the details of Einar and Liz’s previous sojourn through the recesses of their long-forgotten tunnels. A good place to lose one’s self and escape discovery, but with the ending of the storm, both she and Bud knew they had nowhere to go, no way to safely leave the darkness of that underground world and move to a place where they might be better able to provide for themselves the necessities of life.

“They’re going to be freezing in there, running out of food, if they managed to take any at all. Which I’m not sure they did. We’ve got to do something.”

“Aw, Asmundson’s a mighty resourceful fellow, you know. He will have taken them in deep where it isn’t nearly so cold as out here, and he’ll be feeding them on blind cave fish, barbecued bats and crickets, likely as not. Man’s practically a wild critter. They’ll be alright.”

“For a while, but he’s dying. Resourcefulness can only take a person so far when their physical resources are all used up like that, wild critter or not.”

“That old buzzard functions best when he’s all used up and backed into a corner with nowhere to go. He don’t know any other way to live. It does him good. Keeps him going.”

“Bud, I want you to go find them.”

“Whoa now, you’re asking me to go track Asmundson through a series of tunnels, and not just any tunnels, but ones that he’s been in before and knows well…that’s pretty nearly tantamount to a death sentence! You trying to get rid of me, or what?”

“Oh, you can handle him. Just let him know you’re there. And that it’s you, and not someone else.”

“Yeah, and if he don’t want to see me? If he happens to have taken a notion that it was me who invited the feds up to the house in the first place, in some terribly misguided attempt to collect that big reward, or to ingratiate myself with my sometimes-employers? He might be thinking that way, you know. It would sort of be like him.”

“He’ll be alright. Liz is with him.”

“Right, that’s what I’m afraid of. Dangerous as that fella is when he’s fighting for his own life, his freedom, he’s gonna be five times as bad when you’ve got him trapped in a tunnel with his family to defend. I know how that goes.”

“I know how it goes, too, and I’m telling you that I think this will be alright. You’ll be alright. You’ll be able to talk with him.”

“And just how do you know that, my lady?”

She smiled, rose to begin preparing the food she intended to send with him. “I’ve had my fair share of dealings with his kind. Your kind. You’re more like him than you might want to admit, after all... So, I just know.”

A grumble from Kilgore, oh, so we have a “kind” now, do we? Huh. “Trouble is, I’ll leave tracks if I do that, just like they would if they were leaving. Which kind of defeats the whole purpose of them hiding there.”

“Yes, you will, but I’ve got a solution for that. Some winters, I’ve set up a cross-country ski track all around this place in the less-steep areas, dragged an old pallet with several concrete blocks behind one of the snowmobiles to flatten and pack it a little, and gone out nearly every day on that for exercise. My neighbors know it, and I’m sure the feds know it, too, from past satellite images. So it shouldn’t be any surprise to them. I know it’s almost spring, but the snow’s still good, and I think it’s time to do that track again. It will go right past the mine. Always used to go right past the mine, and the spruces will cover the fact that we occasionally leave the track for a few minutes to head over to it.”

“Mighty bold plan, my lady. But it might work. Might just provide the cover we need. If Asmundson don’t hear the snowmobile, figure they’ve been found and take off, that is. But deep down in there, they really shouldn’t hear a thing. I’ll head out now and start grooming the trail.”

“I’ll come help!”

“How do you help? I can run a snowmobile!”

“Sit on the pallet for some extra weight, that’s how. It’ll be fun! I’ll bring a picnic…”

[icefire]

Leave it to Susan to have a plan! (And a good one too, at that!)

[FOTH]

Rather extensive “picnic” stowed in two oversized daypacks—along with some spare clothes and sleeping bags; one never knows how long a picnic may take, and ought to be prepared—Bud and Susan set out to put in their ski trail, Susan, as she had promised, riding on the pallet while Bud dragged it somewhat reluctantly behind the snowmobile. Once he saw that she was neither going to fall off nor become irritated with him she happened to end up covered in snow now and then—“that’s what the goggles are for!” she’d reminded him—Bud began enjoying the task and things went a bit more quickly. Figuring it would be unwise to head straight for the mine, or even to do that side of the loop first, the better part of two hours were taken up with laying a varied and well-packed trail through the timber East of the house.

Only when the first section was finished did they begin on the back of the property, starting the loop which would take them within yards of one of the old mine entrances. It was a place Einar knew, Susan was certain, from his previous study of her late husband Bill’s notes, and, though she did not know for sure, seemed likely to be the one through which he had led Liz on their previous escape. A logical place for a return visit, especially by people who would be needing to keep warm while avoiding detection from the air.

* * *

Having spent more than an hour lounging in the sunshine, Will sleeping, Liz dozing with him and Einar keeping himself awake only through the realization that they would otherwise be left entirely unguarded, the trio was rousted from its rest by the disappearance of the sun. Sinking behind the nearby wall of spruces and ceasing to grace the mine entrance with its warming powers, it left the place dank and chilly, Einar beginning to shiver and Liz waking with the suggestion that they move back into the warmer, more thoroughly protected interior of the mine.

Which they were in the process of doing, when Einar heard a sound which stopped him in his tracks. Dropping to the ground with pistol in hand he whispered for Liz to get behind him, and soon she, too, heard the unmistakable whine of an approaching snowmobile. They were too far in to see anything more than a hint of fuzzy light where the entrance lay, enough, Einar knew, to tell him, if he watched closely, when and if a human form might approach, enter, but the vehicle did not stop. Only when when the sound had faded to long silence did Einar dare move, finding Liz in the near darkness and speaking close to her ear.

“Looks like we may have to make another crawl through these passages, if this is what it appears to be.”

“You think they’re looking for us? It could just be Bud and Susan…”

“No way to know that, is there?”

“Well, they left, whoever it was, so there’s really no reason to…”

She fell silent at Einar’s hand tight on her shoulder, sound soon echoing again from the mouth of the mine, and this time, it did stop. For a full minute, maybe two, tense times, Liz at Einar’s insistence taking Will and waiting around a bend in the tunnel, where the bullets could not reach them…

But no bullets came, no form darkening the doorway, no intrusion into the mine, and soon the vehicle started up again, and was gone. Liz came crawling back to Einar’s side, found him slowly advancing with the pistol, creeping on knees and one hand.

“Where are you going?”

“Have to know. Risky business, taking Will through those passages and up out that vertical hole, and don’t want to do it if we don’t have to. So I’m going to check. Stay back. Way back where you can’t be seen, but can hear what’s going on. If there’s shooting, or if I don’t come back in fifteen minutes or so, things have gone wrong and you need to get Will out of here. Way back in the mine. Find the place we climbed out before, and don’t look back. Understand?”

A silent nod, didn’t like it, but the child had to be protected, and what option did she have? And then Einar was gone, fast crawl for the smear of light at the front of the mine.

Silent out there, but if they were waiting for him, of course it would be silent. Einar lay still, pressed flat as he could make himself—which, in his current condition, he had to admit with some satisfaction was pretty doggone flat—into the cold rock of the floor, waiting. Did not have to wait long, which was fortunate, as he was not far at all from being immobilized by the cold, though he did not entirely realize the fact. No one was out there. He was sure of it. Had they been, Munin the raven would not have been sitting calm and quiet on his chosen fir branch, tilting his head this way and that as he waited for the return of his human companions. Something in Einar relaxed just a bit, though he remained painfully alert as he crept forward, wanting a better look outside.

Might be cameras. Sensors. He knew that. But had to check, as the nature of the recent visit had a lot of bearing on their immediate course of action, and so much was at stake either way. He’d see the tracks. Know who it was, and what they’d been doing.

The tracks were Bud’s. Unmistakably. He’d been wearing snowshoes—smart fella, carrying snowshoes on the snowmobile; lots of folks don’t think about that, and end up stranded when the things get stuck or break down miles from home—but the gait was still unmistakably his, at least to a trained eye such as Einar’s. Which didn’t settle anything for sure, but did somewhat help, after what he’d witnessed at the house. Bud had not appeared to be in collusion with them at the time, and, one had to hope, still was not. But if not, what was he doing there at the mine? Putting them all in danger for one thing, and for another…Einar spotted the bag. Great. What a dilemma. Could hardly leave the thing where it was, knowing that it could contain the cameras and sensors he had—despite having some measure of trust in Kilgore’s intentions—still somewhat suspected, yet if he was to tamper with the thing, it might well be to meet head-on a rather nasty explosive surprise that could have been concealed for him inside.

Whatever he was to do, he knew it must be done without too much more delay, for the cold was finding its way in relentlessly through his thin clothing with the disappearance of the sun, and he was beginning to realize that his minutes of useful dexterity were to prove somewhat limited. Relying on Muninn to alert him of any human movement in the area he quickly dropped once again to hands and knees, creeping forward until he could get a better look at the bag, a small camouflaged backpack which he could see, upon closer inspection, had a bit of brightly colored cloth protruding from its top.

Strange, the things a person will remember, but Einar recognized the cloth as belonging to one of the napkins Susan kept on her kitchen table, cheerful things patterned all over with ripe fruit of seven different varieties, all spilling out of a centrally-located basket and dancing around the borders. He’d counted them more than once, sitting there at her table trying not to look at the food. Which still didn’t entirely clear things up about the present situation, but at least warranted a consultation with Liz before further action was taken, and he retreated, creeping back into the darkness of the mine and trying hard to convince himself that he was staying so low as a security measure, rather than because he could no longer do anything else…

[grizz]

Another amazing twist, with just enough resourses EA may power thru and start on the path to recovery,(we hope) Excellent writing as usual thank you for continuing this saga.

[FOTH]

Jul 19, 2013 21:47:20 GMT -6 grizz said:

Another amazing twist, with just enough resourses EA may power thru and start on the path to recovery,(we hope) Excellent writing as usual thank you for continuing this saga.

Thank you for reading, and for the discussion!

_____________________

Liz was excited. Had suspected as soon as she’d heard the approaching snowmobile that it very likely would be Bud and Susan come to check on them, to bring supplies or even to get them out of there, offer them transport, once again, to Bud’s house in Arizona or some other relatively safe location far from the center of the search, but she had known what Einar would surely think of such an idea. Now here he was returning to her and, rather than insisting that they flee immediately to the darker recesses of the mine, never to return to Bud and Susan’s or the area in general, he wanted her to come have a look at the bag. The one presumably left by Bud and Susan, though she knew they must still be careful. Trying not to let her excitement show too much, she followed Einar, crouching with him in the mine entry and squinting at the bag.

“Yes, that’s one of Susan’s napkins sticking out of the top. And I recognize the pack as hers, too. It’s one of those hunting packs that’s made of soft, fleecy material so it won’t scrape and make noise as you move through the brush. She uses it when she goes bow hunting. Look where she put it, too! Where we can go get it without venturing into the deep snow and leaving our own tracks…”

“She didn’t put it, Bud did.”

“He did? How do you know?”

“Those’re his tracks. For sure.”

She stood, the relief and almost-joy on her face having more to do with Einar’s recognition of the pack as a friendly gesture than her own realization that it wasn’t the feds who had paid them a visit. “Well then, let’s go and…”

Einar was on his feet, suddenly looking eight feet tall as he stood to block her way, hands pressed against either side of the tunnel. To prevent himself falling, as much as to stop her dash for the bag, but it didn’t appear that way to Liz, and she took a quick step back, Will pressed close against her. “No. Don’t go out there. Let me do it. You take Will back around the corner, and I’ll give you the all clear when you can come out again. Just like before, if you don’t hear anything from me for half an hour or so, just head deeper into the mine and don’t look back.”

“But I thought you said they were Bud’s tracks?”

“They were.” He sank to the ground, all knees and elbows and sharp angles trembling in the cold, chin on his knees, no longer looking particularly imposing. “But that doesn’t mean we can go dashing out there. There’s a lot we don’t know. Best let me take a look at that thing. If it looks good, I’ll bring it in and you can have a look.”

With a quick squeeze of Einar’s shoulder Liz turned and took Will in around the corner so his father would know he was safe and get on with inspecting the pack.

Everything checked out, Einar taking his time approaching, moving and opening the pack, carefully lifting and inspecting each item before setting it aside, and though he knew there could be things he was missing, tiny hidden transmitters in items of clothing, invisible poison sprinkled on the food…he had the definite sense that the bag had been packed by Bud and Susan, and the two of them alone. Prayed he was right as he stood, Muninn scolding him for not sharing more than the few morsels of food he’d tossed the bird as he sorted, and headed back into the mine.

Back at their little shelter—not much going to transmit through all this rock, if there’s anything transmitting at all, Einar had reasoned—and basking in the comparatively brilliant light of one of the candles Susan had included near the top of the pack, the first thing Liz pulled out was a sizeable stuff sack filled with food. Just below this sat the warm wool sweater Einar had left behind when he’d freed himself from Bud’s restraints just before their escape, and though he seemed uninterested in putting it on, Liz draped it around his shoulders before delving into the food bag. For the moment, she got no farther than the two large turkey, avocado, clover sprout and cream cheese sandwiches that Susan had carefully wrapped and stowed at the top of the bag. Time for their first good meal in nearly two days…

Einar soon found himself driven nearly mad by the smell of the stuff; his body had just begun growing used to taking in a bit more nutrition every day during his stay at Bud and Susan’s, but had not been at it long enough to even make a start at rebuilding from its extended periods of near starvation, let alone start putting away any sort of reserve, and he had been keenly affected by feelings of hunger since arriving in the damp chill of the mine. Yet he would not so much as touch the food except to examine it again for hidden transmitters (which he did not find, but that proved nothing,) eyeing it suspiciously and staring with an odd mixture of apprehension and envy, shaking, arms crossed almost protectively on his stomach against the twisting, gnawing pain as Liz unwrapped one of the sandwiches, gave thanks and began devouring the meal. Even Will was eating, delightedly gobbling the bits of avocado which Liz mashed up between her fingers and offered to him

Seeing that Einar’s half of the sandwich sat untouched where she had left it Liz stopped, handed it to him and insisted that he eat. Could see that he desperately wanted the food, was trembling and holding it at arm’s length as if to avoid having to smell it, lead me not into temptation, and she was not about to let him miss the opportunity and end up freezing in the night for lack of energy.

Einar shook his head, pushed the food back in her direction.

“Why not? It was Bud and Susan who left this. You know it was! You know better than this. Don’t let yourself start thinking that way again. The food is not poisoned. It’s perfectly good.”

“I know. Trying to remind myself of that, but…there are things I don’t remember, Liz. From Bud and Susan’s this last time. I do remember waking up strapped to a board in the kitchen, feds on the way and a lot of chaos in the house… What’s a lot less clear is what came before that. I did see the things sitting on the counter, the tube and all that, know what the plan must have been.”

“Do we have to talk about this right now? It didn’t happen. Nothing happened. I’m still hungry. Let’s finish eating first.”

“It almost happened. Would have, wouldn’t it?”

“I was opposed to it from the start.”

He looked at her, measuring, trying to discern the truth of her words and seeing in her no deception. “Bud’s idea?”

“Yes. And I told him ‘no.’ But…”

“But what?”

“But maybe it wasn’t a terrible idea. I wouldn’t have done it. But might have wanted to.”

“Shouldn’t be another person’s choice, that kind of thing. Ever. Under any circumstances.”

“I know you believe that, and that’s why I wouldn’t have done it. But I was questioning it, for sure. Questioning whether your choice really was your choice, just then. Whether you were really yourself.”

“Of course I was.”

“You’d said you wanted to live though, to be here for Will. I could see that you meant it. Yet some of your actions… Well, they were completely contrary to what you’d been consistently saying and intending. And I’m not even sure you realized it. You weren’t thinking clearly, didn’t seem to have the ability to start doing so again until you did the very thing you weren’t thinking clearly about—that is, eating and drinking again—and the situation was about to kill you. Imminently. Which is why it was hard to know what was the right thing, at the time.”

Einar shrugged. “Not particularly relevant, any of that. Doesn’t give another person the right to strap me to a board, stick a tube down my nose and impose their will. Or even their version of what they think my will would have been, if I’d been thinking more clearly. That’s just not for anyone else to say. Forcibly taking away a person’s dignity, his freedom and nearly everything it means to him to be a human being, in order to sustain the physical functions of life—that’s just never a right thing to do. Never justifiable. And I find it outrageous that some people seem to think it may be. Bud might very well have been justified in shooting me and burying me under the basement to prevent the feds from finding out I’d been there, if they were on their way up the driveway and there was no other option—might qualify as a form as self-defense—but he had absolutely no right to tie me to that board.”

Liz sighed. “I know. I think I may agree with you, in principle. Just said I was struggling with it, at the time. Wishing that all the justifiable options didn’t lead to you being dead. Try to put yourself in my position, and maybe you can’t blame me too much for that.”

He smiled. “Oh, I’m not mad at you. Can’t blame you for anything at all. Real sorry to have put you in a position where things like that even come up. But from my way of looking at things, maybe you can see why I’m finding it a little rough right now to trust this food Bud and Susan have left us. After what they almost did.”

“Sure I can. Of course. But it’s all we’ve got, and you’ll die without it. Tonight, probably.”

“I know.”

“I can tell you do, and I’m so glad. Now, eat.”

He ate, slow tastes and then, pausing to have a bit of melted snow, a bit faster, felt a lot better once he’d got a few bites of the stuff into him and let it sit there for a while, body relaxing just a bit as the cold ever so slightly eased its grip. After a few minutes his mind eased a bit, too, entire situation seeming somehow less threatening than it had done at first. Which he could very easily have taken as a sign that the food had, indeed, been contaminated with some nefarious mind-dulling poison designed to short-circuit his mental processes and leave him less able to resist the advancing plots of the enemy…but he didn’t. Had another piece of sandwich, instead.

[FOTH]

Einar and Liz had enjoyed a much warmer night with the benefit of the clothes, sleeping bag and food provided by Bud and Susan, even little Will seeming more content than he had so far been since their arrival at the mine. Several time in the night Einar had found himself compelled to leave the warm little nest, creep out and check to make certain that all was well in the tunnels and outside, the vigil leaving him each time so thoroughly chilled that he dared not slip back into the sleeping bag lest he wake Liz with his shivering, but each time she was listening for his return, and pulled him back in to get warm.

When morning arrived without any sign of trouble Einar was almost ready to let himself believe that the delivery of supplies had been without ulterior motive, but even should that prove the case, he knew the very act of their delivery greatly increased the risk of eventual discovery. They couldn’t stay in the mine. Crouching with his back against the rock wall as he watched Liz prepare breakfast—Will helping in his own way, which consisted mostly of snagging tastes whenever his little hands could dart in unnoticed—Einar weighed the options, knew what he wanted to do but figured it bore some discussion with Liz before the final decision was made.

“We need to get out of here. Figure our best option is to go all the way through like we did before, and out the top. Lots of timber up there, enough to hide our tracks if we’re real careful. What do you think?”

“I think we should eat before we talk about it.”

“Ate last night!”

“Most people do it every day, you know…sometimes even more than once!”

“Oh.”

“Here. There’s part of a sandwich left from last night, which I’ve split between us, a banana and some Nutella. How about that?”

How about it, indeed! Einar’s eyes were huge and white in the semi-darkness as he inspected the feast Liz spread before him, banana sliced up and spread with Nutella and sandwich smelling every bit as good as it had the night before, mind tossing around a dozen reasons why he ought to refuse the food, why he must, but he managed to dismiss each of them hastily and without too much thought, and eat.

* * *

That morning, which dawned sunny, purple-skied and nearly perfect for some high-altitude recreation, Bud and Susan clipped into their skis and took off along the newly-groomed trail, enjoying a bit of somewhat more relaxed time together after the hectic happenings of recent weeks.

When their course took them by the mine and they saw the pack missing they were glad of it, but in accordance with a discussion before leaving home, they did not stop. Susan had wanted to leave them a batch of the freshly baked cinnamon rolls she and Bud had enjoyed for breakfast, a few additional warm things for Will and some avocados for Einar, but she’d known Bud was right when he insisted that they must not linger too often outside that mine entrance. Every time they went there, he said, they would be taking a risk, and eventually, that risk would cease to pay off, someone would see something, notice a pattern, and the situation would go terribly wrong…

Stopping on a sunny ridge crest far from both the mine and the house, the couple clicked out of their skis and sat down on a fallen aspen to discuss the dilemma. “Can’t stay there forever, those three,” Kilgore growled, poking at the snow with a ski pole.

“I know. I wish we could bring them back to the house where they could be safe and warm for a little while more, but after that last visit by your employers, I know it’s too risky. And Einar would probably never trust the place again, even if he still hopefully has some trust for us…”

“Nope. Never get him through that door again, even if it was safe to try, which it isn’t right now.”

“Probably for the best. He really was not doing very well there, even though we tried. Just couldn’t settle in, and I doubt he was ever going to.”

“Critter like that tends to be a lot more at home in a damp, cold old tunnel than in a house. Just isn’t any civilizing some of ‘em. Which isn’t a terribly bad thing in his case, anyway, though maybe a little rough for his missus, at times. Getting too soft and civilized can kill a man, you know.”

“Can it, now?” She laughed. “Well, no more pancakes and chokecherry jam for you then, mister. Wouldn’t want to risk killing you. And you’d better start sleeping outside, too. In the snow. Just to be safe.”

“Hey now, I’m no federal fugitive! Not yet, anyway… Little civilization’s not gonna do me any harm. I meant folks in his situation, that’s all. Folks who can’t afford to let their guard down at all, not the least little bit, or it’s all over for them. Best for them not to get too comfortable or settled, that’s all, or they risk complacency.”

“I guess we’d better not let our guard down too far, either, with the sort of guests we’ve been having…”

“That’s for sure. Now. About these guests of ours. How’re we going to get rid of them? Can’t keep bringing them food all the time, and you know Asmundson’d sooner sit there and starve than he would venture out and risk leaving tracks in this snow to catch some game, unless a storm’s real clearly on the way.”

Susan shook her head, looking pensive. “I wish there was some way to get them down to your house in Arizona for the rest of the winter. Or out of the country. Out of here, where they could start over.”

“Arizona’s out. Close as them feds are watching me after this business with Shirley and the avalanche, all the evidence they may or may not have brought back from up there, including my footprints in some real compromising places, if they’re smart enough to realize it…no way. They’ve probably already been there, and will be if they haven’t yet. It’d be a trap. But you know, you did give me an idea… Let’s get back to the house. I got business in town!”

[icefire]

Sounds like Bud's got some sort of "diversionary plan" up his sleeve! Can't wait to read what it is!

[ebb]

I think stuff is going to start blowing up in town again.

[FOTH]

Looks like Bud Kilgore needs just one more day to sort things out.

Back tomorrow with the next chapter.

Thank you all for reading!