The Hunting Grounds

Chapter two

   The first few hours of the ride had passed peacefully. Without much to do but ride and watch the passing scenery, Alexander had made two observations. The first was that the forest was unusually quiet and strangely devoid of life. True, it was winter, but deer and rabbits didn't hibernate. He hadn't seen either, nor even tracks.

   His second observation was that the weather was steadily declining. By noon the sky had turned a bleak gray color. Heavy, dark clouds blocked out most sunlight and had thrown the mountain into an early evening twilight. He suspected that by 3:00 they would be in the middle of a whiteout. That thought wasn't too pleasing.

  "Sheriff, I think we should find some ground to lay our heads for the evenin'. Storm's a'brewin and I'd prefer not to be out in it" said Alexander.

  Sheriff Yale had noticed the change in the weather too. His knees ached whenever the temperature dropped, thanks to the arthritis creeping into his joints.

  "I know a place where we can dig in and get some rest" said Alexander. "The McCormick residence is a couple hours due east, same direction as Duncan's pass. We can put up there for the night and head out in the mornin'. Provided the storm has moved on."

   Deputy Miller scowled. "Isn't there somewhere else we can go? That place gives me the creeps!"

  Alexander shook his head. "I'm afraid not deputy. It's all open country between here and the pass. Unless you wanna sleep with a rock as your pillow tonight. Might get mighty cold out there."

   "We'll head for the McCormick residence" said sheriff Yale decidedly. "Buck up and get moving. Lead on Mr. Gates."

  Alexander took the lead position at the head of the posse. He was followed in order by sheriff Yale, deputy Smith, and deputy Miller. He set a quick pace, hoping to the reach the homestead before the storm reached them. Or at least, before the worst of it did.

   The closer they got, the worse the weather became. By the time they reached the homestead, the snow was already blinding and the wind had picked up considerably. The wind bit into their flesh with icy fangs and threatened them with hypothermia.

  "Get the horses into the barn!" Alexander had to shout to be heard over the howling wind. "Come on, into the barn!"

   Sheriff Yale and his deputies rode their horses in, each picking an unoccupied stall for their horse. Alexander followed behind them and took one for his own.

  The barn was rundown and dilapidated, but it would have to do for the evening. They couldn't leave the horses out in this weather, so there was no other choice. After tending to the horses, the men tied a segment of rope around their waists. It would help them keep from getting lost in the blinding fury of the storm as they crossed the yard to the house.

   With Alexander in the lead, they stepped out of the barn and began to cross the yard. It was impossible to see the whole house, but Alexander caught glimpses of it through the flurries. It was an imposing two story with dark windows and faded gray paint that had begun to peel. Those windows looked like the eyes of some beast, long dead and forgotten. They stared blankly across the mountain. Nature had begun to reclaim the property with trees that had sprouted up across the yard and brown, creeping ivy that had climbed the walls of the house during the spring. The front door stood open, creaking as it was pushed back and forth by the wind.

   Even Alexander had to admit that there was a presence here. A dark feeling of misery and suffering permeated every square inch, and Alexander felt it in his bones as they went inside through the creaking front door.