This is a work of fiction any similarities between the characters, events, or locations in this story and actual locations, events, or people are purely coincidental.
© 2004 Warlord
Jan looked at her watch. “Supper time. Anybody hungry?”
I answered, “Not until you mentioned it. Now I’m starved.”
“Didn’t you eat on the road?”
“A buffalo burger at the restaurant by the Missouri River rest area.”
“Poor baby. Dan has steaks to grill. I think they’re dinosaur.” Dan did tend to think big and overbuy anytime he was in the grocery store.
I closed up the horse trailer and my truck. Dan quickly threw some dirt back in the hole. Jan and Krista threw the floorboards next to the stall.
They climbed in Dan’s pickup. I swung the stable door open, Dan backed out, and I swung the door closed and locked it. I slid into the cab as Krista again carefully perched on my lap. I put my arms around her. It just felt right.
Dan pulled into the B&B driveway. He parked behind the building. He backed up close to the back door. We began unloading.
Our costumes and shooting clothes went into the bedroom close to our suite. Guns went across the hall from our suite. All the plastic wrapped bundles went downstairs into the basement. Tools and the metal detector went into the parlor. With unloading done we stepped outside.
Dan was starting up the grill. Krista and Jan headed for the small four box stall horse barn to tend to livestock. Duke was calmly walking the exercise merry-go-round. He was stretching after his ride. Even our long absence did not unhinge him.
The shed held four stalls. One was dedicated for Duke. Jan had a paint horse just her size named “Buttercup.” Dan had a large red Thoroughbred named predictably “Red.” I had a riding mule.
The whole mule deal started as a joke. When D&J asked me what kind of horse I wanted in their shed. I did not want I horse. I did not want to ride. I said, “I want a mule. Like I rode into the Grand Canyon.”
I thought that solved the problem.
Then one weekend Krista and I arrived and I met “Francis.” They named him after the talking mule from a series of 1950’s movies.
My Francis was a cross between a mule and a horse of mixed Morgan and Percheron ancestry. The Percheron draft horse for its “cold blood”; the result was a calm animal over fifteen hands tall.
Krista had worked with Francis before I arrived on the scene. He had several comfortable gaits. He also had zero fear of gunfire.
I did not realize how good Francis was until we went on a horseback camping trip. Francis carried me up hills so steep that the rest of the horses had to be led up. He also carries a pack and pulls a small buckboard just as nicely. I learned to appreciate my mule!
Jan tended the other two horses. Krista was brushing and cooling down Duke. I greeted Francis. We had the horses lined up outside as we brushed and curry combed. As usual, they acted calmly despite the close proximity. Krista said, “I think you should ride Francis in your mounted events this week.”
Jan asked, “You still want to compete, K?”
“Oh yeah. Final tune up, before we tackle real gunfighters with real bullets.”
Dan had walked up just during the discussion. He said, “I agree. Plus we got groundwork before we jump in with all eight feet.”
We all laughed at his wordplay. We also nodded at the logic. Krista said, “I wish we had left us a note.”
I said, “K honey, do you realize how convoluted that sounds?”
“This is a fucking situation.”
We all nodded. Jan said, “Maybe in the B&B. We haven’t searched yet.”
Dan said, “After supper. No more searches on an empty stomach.”
That was a real big hint. We turned the horses into the modest paddock. J & K started hauling food and plates to the picnic table. I helped Dan finish grilling the steaks. He was also heating the baked potatoes and grilling ears of sweet corn.
We ate until we were stuffed. Then Jan brought out dessert. Desert was making your own ice cream sundaes. I completely forgot I was full and stuffed myself with ice cream.
We ended up sitting on the grass next to Dan’s fire ring toasting marshmallows. Krista was on my lap. Jan was on Dan’s. Jan said, “Fuck this. I want to try out the portal. Tonight.”
Krista agreed. “Me too.”
Dan asked, “W., do you think we left some message?”
“I hope so, D. But how would we code it and decode it?”
“Why would we ‘code it’ in the first place?”
Krista answered, “To keep it out of the wrong hands. Any body not sitting around this fire right now IS the wrong hands.”
Jan said, “How would we code it and still guarantee that we would be able to decode it?”
Dan turned to me and said, “You’re right, W. This is getting hard to follow.”
Krista answered, “Shorthand.”
Another electric shock for all of us! We all realized that Krista’s secret language would be EXACTLY how we would do it.
Jan climbed off Dan and crawled to Krista. She took Krista’s face in her hands and looked in her eyes. The she quietly asked, “Where would you hide it, K., so we would find it quickly?”
Krista pondered the question. Then she smiled.
“I would put it in the attic with something metal but away from all the guns and money.”
The rightness of the answer was hard to fault. We would put the communication away from the guns and money. Even if the scavengers found our caches we would still keep the secret.
Dan got to his feet. He pulled the rest of us up off our lazy asses. I think that’s what he said. We walked over and put the horses and mule back in their stalls. Then we headed in for scavenger hunt, part two.
Dan stopped in his garage and grabbed two halogen work lights. He grabbed several very long power cords. He pointed to the Stream light flashlights. We went inside. K. grabbed the metal detector. Jan picked up some of the tools and my drill.
The B&B was an imposing structure. Three full stories tall with a full attic for the fourth floor. It sat far back from Main Street on a side street. This was the west edge of town. The yard was surrounded by stonewall and wrought iron fences. The B&B sat in the middle of the huge lot, with open space all around. Dan and Jan had purchased extra lots, giving them room for their horses and Dan’s dojo.
We stood at the bottom of the narrow stair that led to the fourth floor attic.
Dan related the story. “Legend is that this is the site of Deadwood’s most deluxe whorehouse.”
Jan continued, “This was always some kind of sporting house. We found a secret room behind the kitchen. Judging by the shelves and the pass through to the bar it was storage for booze during the prohibition.”
I looked carefully at the narrow stairway. I said, “You realize the attic stairway is totally enclosed and it’s all dead space.”
Their three heads snapped around. Dan said:
“God damn. You’re right. This fucking place is rife with secret rooms. What now, W?”
“Attic first, D.”
We walked up the steps and Dan unlocked the attic door with a small skeleton key on his key ring. Nobody commented on the oddity until I asked how often they visit the attic.
Jan answered, “Never. I don’t think we have ever been up here. Why?”
“Is the attic key the same as the front door J?”
“No. Don’t be silly. We replaced all the outside skeleton locks with modern Medeco deadbolts the first week we were here. Why?”
“Dan and Jan. I want you to stop and tell me why Dan has the attic skeleton key on his key ring?”
That was an absolute showstopper. I had waited until everybody had put their loads on the floor. Then I watched as D & J sagged into each other. Dan straightened and asked, “How come we ain’t noticing this stuff?”
“The wake you talked about. We know this is here even though we don’t know why we know.”
Memory before the event!
Krista said, “Freaky. Now what?”
I said, “You hid it, Smart-ass. You find it.”
Krista stuck out her tongue.