Gatekeeper’s

Secret

 

 

Finn Sinclair

© 2026

Chapter 1

When Grady was called to the school office, he had a good suspicion about what the matter was. He grabbed everything from his locker before rushing down to the office, expecting the worst. Without a word, he was ushered into the principal’s office where the guidance counselor was also waiting.

“My grandpa’s dead, isn’t he?” Grady asked, looking at their long faces.

“I’m afraid so, Grady. I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news,” Mr. Grimes said. “Please, take a seat.”

When the principal wound down, Grady told them both that he wanted two things: to bury his grandfather with dignity and to finish his high school diploma. The guidance counselor reassured Grady that there was more than one avenue to finish his schooling, and being eighteen years old, he could easily make those decisions after the funeral.

After clambering into his truck, Grady stared at the steering wheel, trying to think straight. He had taken his grandfather to the hospital three days ago, and the first, really the only, recommendation from the doctor was hospice. This was Grady’s second rodeo with hospice after his grandmother had a stroke last year. Grandpa had warned him of his own health issues and prepared Grady as best he could.

Even though his grandfather’s death was sad but expected, the dignity part was going to be the problem. They had buried grandma with the intent of being solemn, but they could not help themselves. The well-wishers left and they nearly peed themselves from laughing so hard as they stood in the family plot.

Grady was thirteen when his father died. He had already been living with his grandparents for ten years and he had always lived at the ranch. Some events are simply stranger than fiction. His father, for lack of words without revealing the shameful truth, was an ongoing car wreck.

As he drove to the hospital one last time, he relived his father’s funeral, a stark memory still. The day was hot and humid as Grady stood with his grandparents at the foot of his mother’s grave. The cemetery looked like a huge, level field with all the gravestones flat to the ground, while the landfill rose like a horrific blemish behind them. He was holding his father’s ashes in a ridiculous urn that looked like Bugs Bunny, polished to a pleasant grey and white sheen. The funeral director asked them if they needed anything. Grady looked at grandpa who looked back at his wife and Grady before shaking his head and saying, “No, thank you. We just need a few minutes, and we’ll be done.”

They had driven to the other side of the county to reach the cemetery, which was a tidy but ugly patch on the far side of the landfill mountain, separated by a tall fence. His grandmother had telephoned Grady at summer camp to inform him of his father’s unexpected death. The man had died in Montana in some sort of accident she could not describe on the phone. She called on Friday morning and here he stood, Monday afternoon, hopefully upwind of the busy landfill as he placed his father’s ashes in the ground.

When the funeral director stepped away, Grady asked, “Uh, guys, what’s with this urn? What does Bugs Bunny have to do with my father or our family for that matter?”

“I found this cookie jar at the Plainview flea market for twenty dollars,” Grandpa said. “Funeral home wanted $300 for a painted cardboard box. There isn’t any reason to spend a penny more on the dumb ass.”

“Jedidiah, have some respect for the dead,” his grandmother said. “He is your son after all.”

His grandfather, ignoring his wife, glared at Grady. “Do you know how he died?”

“I was going to ask that question next,” Grady said honestly. “Grandma wouldn’t say on the phone.”

“Yeah, because I told her not to say anything that could be recorded,” Grandpa said as he snorted up a big wad and spit on the other side. “From an early age, your father was an embarrassment, Grady. I’m not saying anything you haven’t heard before, but he never stopped humiliating himself and mortifying the rest of us, even in death.”

“Okay,” Grady said. “Is this going to be a painful story? I thought he was raising sheep in Big Sky country.”

“Well, they found him in one of the far meadows,” Grandma said. “Naked.”

“Oh, God.”

“He was shtupping sheep when the ram took exception,” Grandpa said. “The ram charged him, hitting him on the side of his torso and throwing him a goodly way. They found him two days later when he didn’t return. You hold in your hands the remains of Norman Wolcott, sheep fucker extraordinaire. Even his death is an embarrassment that will not be forgotten. They’re going to talk about him at the local bars in Montana for years to come.”

“Are you certain that he is my biological father?” Grady asked. Unfortunately, he had already asked the question several times over the past few years.

“Thankfully, you take after your mother, bless her soul,” Grandma said, looking at the stone with her daughter-in-law’s name engraved on it. “He probably screwed up her medications and killed her too.”

Grady did not want to hear that old saw again. His mom had been dead ten years, and the memories were fast fading. He got down on one knee, placing the urn in the small hole on top of his mom’s grave. “Goodbye, dad.”

“And stay there,” Grandpa muttered. He signaled to the funeral director, who brought over the cemetery worker with the shovel. The worker was acting respectful as he hoisted the shovel to lift dirt out of the wheelbarrow. Grandpa told him there was a forty-dollar tip if he dumped dirt from the wheelbarrow in the hole and got them out of there in five minutes. The man took the money with a smile and a “thank you, sir.”

After the funeral, they sat down at a worn and tired diner-type restaurant. Grady remembered the western omelet was good, and the hash browns were crisp. Grandpa looked like he was under some strain and grandma noticed it too. Every time his forehead creased, she patted his forearm until the wrinkles relaxed. Grady had already learned to be patient, letting the man take his time to formulate his thoughts and put them in order.

 

“Grady, I’m sorry your dad died,” Grandpa said, pushing away the empty plate. “You may not have been close to him these past few years, but he was still your dad. I was so furious at him I forgot about what you may be feeling.”

 

“I’m fine,” Grady said. “True enough, it’s weird to be an orphan at thirteen years old. He’s been gone six years though, and he never tried hard to stay in touch with me. He forgot my birthday three out of the six years, which ain’t a great record. I feel like another chapter has ended and I’m turning the page to start a new one. Still, I can’t imagine what to say when my friends’ parents ask. ‘Oh, your father must have died young; what happened?’” Grady could not suppress the laugh. “He died fucking sheep, that’s what happened. I don’t think we’ll be visiting Montana anytime soon.”

 

Grandma, ever the prim and proper woman, snorted iced tea through her nostrils. She hastily grabbed another napkin from the dispenser and wiped her face. “Can you imagine sitting with the ladies at the Dogwood Tavern for our noon tipple and discussing sheep sex? Spencer would probably throw me out for being lewd and lascivious. Watch your swearing, Grady.”

 

They all laughed. “I thought that boy would be the death of me,” she continued. “When he came home with his little pecker stuck in the Coca Cola bottle, I could not keep a straight face. When I told your grandpa to go get his hammer, your father took off running around the house and out into the backyard with that bottle waving every which way. Then Martha stuck her head out the window of the office to see what the commotion was; she howled. Martha reached back inside for the camera. You don’t forget something like that.”

 

“His death cleans up most of the loose ends on the business side,” Grandpa said. “I worried for years that he would open his big mouth and say something regrettable that would come back to haunt us. That fear did not come to pass. Instead, we learn from his death that your father thought with his johnson and over the years, all he did was think with his johnson. What a waste.”

 

Grady learned the word “epithet” that day, a word and a lesson he had not forgotten in the years in between.

 

A somber mood settled over the table. After a moment of silence, grandma perked up, “Do you think he screwed any other animals?”

 

They all fell about laughing again.

Grady loved his grandma, and he was certain his grandfather did as well, but they could not contain themselves at her burial. They would glance over at the grave where his father was buried as the rent-a-preacher said his funereal words over grandma’s open grave. One would snort and then the other would. The minister kept the graveside service mercifully short for the crowd that had gathered to pay their respects.

“You know she’s laughing too,” Grandpa said as they walked away from the family plot. “If there is a heaven, then surely she is there, laughing so hard that she is nearly falling off her cloud."

"I’m surprised you didn’t add his epithet to the marker,” Grady said.

“No need to besmirch the family name, Grady.”

Grady was still chuckling when he pulled into the hospital parking lot. The loneliness crept back into his thoughts, stifling his memory of his father. Grandma was gone and now, his grandpa. Martha had retired five years ago and moved across the country to be near her kids. His grandpa had warned him, but nothing truly prepares a man to bury the last of his family.

Inside, he said his goodbyes and signed some paperwork. He called over to the funeral home to confirm the prearrangements and tell them they could retrieve the body from the hospital. He called over to the attorney’s office and told them the news as well. The para-legal told him to “come on in” if he was ready.

Not knowing what else to do with himself and certainly, not wanting to return to an empty house, Grady drove over, parking in the lot across the street. He felt numb. He vaguely remembered taking the keys out of the ignition, but he was halfway across the street when he realized that he did not know where his keys were. After slapping his legs and his breasts a few times, he found them in his back pocket. Sitting down would have been a surprise. Plus, he showed the entire downtown the new dance craze called, “slapping yourself silly.” He made it inside the law office without further consequence.

“Hi Grady, sorry to hear about your granddad. He was a rare gentleman,” Mr. Comfrey said, as he sat down at the table with a thick expanding folder.

“Thanks, Mr. Comfrey. He went quick, which was what he wanted. Besides me turning eighteen, I think he didn’t have much joy to look forward to after grandma died.”

“Yes, he did appear to withdraw from the world,” Mr. Comfrey replied. “I’ll make this meeting brief because, well, I don’t know how much will stick today.” Grady nodded. “The day after you turned eighteen, Jedidiah brought you in to sign a stack of forms. Those forms, if you remember, were updates to the Twin Sisters Peak Trust. Remember?”

“Yes, you informed me that I would inherit the trust when grandpa died,” Grady said.

“The trust goes back several generations in your family, Grady, and includes the deed for your ranch and the Twin Sisters Mountain with its surrounding area. I still have the original survey done in 1885. We updated the survey in 2002 in order to qualify for protections under Land and Resource Preservation Act of 2001. The trust and the segregated land cannot be touched by anyone other than the owner of the trust, and even then, the land beyond the designated human habitation area cannot be improved in any manner without permission from the federal government. Do you understand this point?”

Grady nodded. “I knew the land was protected but I didn’t know the mechanism. I still have to chase off trespassers and poachers though.”

“Yes, they are a constant bother. The next point: the government pays the trust to maintain the pristine nature on the mountain. These payments are one of your revenue streams. Most of your other revenue streams are investments and returns on investments, but not all. You own land directly across the road, due west and on the east side, heading back towards town. None of this land is in the trust and you pay taxes on it, minimal though they be.”

“How much is in the trust? Grandpa told me I shouldn’t worry about it.”

The lawyer flipped through a few pages, “The last reconciliation was at the end of the fourth quarter of last year. That number is . . .a hundred and twenty million and change.”

Grady nodded again, his face giving away nothing. “Good to know. I’m going to need a new truck before we get into high season.”

“You could buy a fleet of trucks, and not make a dent in the trust,” Mr. Comfrey said with a shake of his head. “However, there is a condition in the trust that is inviolate.”

“I know. I must live on the land,” Grady said. “Grandpa has been telling me that fact since my dad left when I was little. I don’t have a problem with living there, really. Walking our property makes me feel whole many days, like I belong there.”

“You sound like your grandfather. He loved that land. I guess the apple does not fall far from the tree.”

“In this case, I certainly hope not,” Grady said.

The attorney pulled a sealed padded mailing envelope from the file. “I am supposed to give this to you today. In fact, the only thing your granddad asked of me to do for you today is to give you this envelope.” He handed it over.

Grady reached for the proffered envelope and when he grasped it, his hand tingled. Although Mr. Comfrey looked at the envelope curiously, Grady simply tucked it in his jacket.

A wave of exhaustion swept over him as he sat back in the chair. “Thank you, Mr. Comfrey. I’m sure there are tons more involved in the trust and probably the will too. I am done today though, sir; nothing else is going to stick.”

“Grady, there is more than enough in the checking account to pay for the funeral. You can also put it on the credit card account. I know Jedidiah put you on the credit card when your grandma died.”

“Yeah, I got a card with my name on it,” Grady said. “Thank you, Mr. Comfrey.”

Grady used the credit card to fill his tank on the way out of town, if only to disprove his paranoia. He had a bunch of text and telephone messages from friends and well-wishers to answer, but he chose to ignore them when he pulled up to the house. Standing in the kitchen, he peeled back the lid on a can of tuna and let it drain for a moment. Leaning back against the kitchen counter with a fork in one hand and the tuna can in the other, he ate slowly while staring at the padded envelope.

With a sigh, he dropped the can in the garbage underneath the sink and placed the fork in the sink. He ripped the flap open on the padded envelope, dumping the contents in his hand. A piece of paper with six numbers on it stuck out, but the necklace was what he had been expecting. He had seen the thick gold chain around his grandfather’s neck all the time. The flat oval jewel in the gold setting had flares of different colors set in a milky white stone, almost like an opal. He had never seen the jewel up close before. He sat down on the couch in the living room before draping the necklace over his head. The jewel rested on his sternum, and the world went black.

 

Chapter 2

“Damn, Grandpa, you could’ve warned me,” Grady moaned as he tried to massage the splitting headache that was pressing on all sides of his skull. He rolled around on the couch for a few minutes before he felt any easing of the pressure. He worked his jaw a few times and slowly rolled his neck, testing the truth of his hope that the pain was diminishing.

He sat up and looked out the window. The world was dark and quiet, as if nothing was moving outside. A flash out the kitchen window behind him followed by a slow roll of thunder told him all he needed to know. He knew storms were due overnight and by the sound of things, they had arrived.

The clock in the kitchen read 3:14. Grady downed a glass of water in one gulp, only to feel his stomach complain at the circumstances. He pulled the old glass bowl from the shelf and dumped oatmeal, milk and water in it before setting it to cook in the microwave. When the timer beeped, he dumped half a jar of applesauce in it and a handful of raisins. He dusted the concoction with cinnamon and quickly devoured it.

Lightning lit up the sky again as Grady stared at the twin peaks of the mountain behind the house, The Sisters. Now, he knew their secret and what his true inheritance was. The money in the trust was just that, money, a tool to be used to meet the needs of the day. What he needed, his grandpa had given him already: A love and respect for nature, woodcraft, and a deep dive into health of the land and what it required. He had received a deeper schooling from his grandfather than what he received in high school, not that school was good, bad, or indifferent. High School was simply learning without context.

He scratched his chin, realizing that he needed to shave if he was going to be presentable tomorrow. He figured “the busybodies” as grandpa called them would be by tomorrow morning to make the plans and generally muck things up. Grandpa had tolerated them because he loved his wife, but Grady had learned early on that for his grandpa, it was an act of tolerance. Grady was more flexible; he knew he needed their help.

He absently stroked the gem that hung from his neck. The smoothness of it felt good on the pad of his thumb. The warmth that emerged from the stone was comforting, connecting him to a greater source somewhere out there on the mountain. Another rumble of thunder shook him out of his musings. With a shrug of fatalism, Grady shucked his clothes onto his bedroom floor and went to sleep.

The storms had moved on by the time he awoke in the early morning; the snow had not stuck. He brewed himself a cup of coffee, cognizant that he was only making one cup. His grandfather had not been able to tolerate coffee the last couple of months, but there was their quiet time in the morning when they sat with a cup. Now, it was his quiet time alone.

There was a moment when he was five years old and his grandpa had brought him home from his first day of kindergarten. They were sitting on chairs in the backyard before dinner, watching the Twin Sisters and the sky. “We missed you around the ranch today, Grady. I’m proud of you and today reminds me how precious you are to me.” He did not remember much else about that day, but that moment was one he kept close. He sat up, brushing more tears away.

After giving the house a surreptitious clean with a broom and a damp rag, Grady settled into the stuffed chair to read the digital news of the day. He heard a car pull up just before nine. “Right on time,” he mumbled.

The surprise on his face was unmistakable when he opened the door to find two of his school friends climbing out of the jeep. "Damn," he said, as they closed in on him for a hug. "I had no idea.”

“Typical,” Darla said. “You have no idea because you think your problems are your problems and you shouldn’t worry anyone else. You, my friend, are a doofus.”

Grady tried to speak, and nothing came out of his mouth. His buddy, Randy, rescued him by imposing his body between the two and giving him a hug as well. “Tough beans to bake, dude.”

Grady stepped back and shook his head. “Don’t I know it. What’re you two doing here, skipping school and playing hooky?”

“My momma suggested it,” Darla volunteered. “The news made it around school pretty quick yesterday. She told me to grab Randy and then she gave me a list of chores: mop and dust, clean out the refrigerator, make sure you eat, and have Randy shove you in the shower if you stink. You know, stuff like that.”

“Come on in,” Grady said. “Truth is I was expecting grandma’s friends to show up and do their tut-tutting and poo-pooing as they gussy up the place.

“Gussy?” Randy said with skepticism on his face.

“Grandpa word,” Grady said.

“He had great stuff,” Darla said. “My favorite was ‘It’s not the company you keep but sharing the place where you buried them.’”

“Or ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies six feet under,’” Randy said.

“Oh, he liked to say, ‘Better a bird in hand than two in the bush, but three in the stew pot is best,’” Darla declared before pushing Grady aside and marching through the door. “O Randal, dahlin’, please fetch the tools from the back seat. The remains of the day are horrid.”

“Randal?” Grady asked.

Randy shrugged. “We’ve been streaming British dramas. She likes them.” He walked back to the car and pulled out the bucket, the broom, and the mop.

“We’re not uncivilized up here in the back country,” Grady said with his arms crossed. “We even know how to brush our teeth and wipe our butts after pooping.”

“Her momma’s rules,” Randy said walking past. He stopped and looked back. “I follow the da momma’s rule because I like to get in her daughter’s pants. Capish?”

“Got it,” Grady said, following his friend inside.

Darla walked up to him and gave him a sniff. “Go and shower,” she ordered. “I’m going to cook you breakfast while you clean yourself. Shave, too, while you’re at it.”

Grady nodded his compliance without uttering a word. He grabbed a clean towel from the linen closet and locked himself in the bathroom. He washed himself. He shaved. He brushed his teeth. He stared at himself in the mirror, wondering why his head was empty. Then he caught a glimpse of the gem and began moving again. Five minutes later, Grady sat down at the table with a wet head and a growling stomach.

Darla laid out a platter of scrambled eggs with diced ham and peppers, fried waxed potatoes, and toast. All three ate in silence, devouring the entire platter and the potatoes. Only a couple of pieces of almost burnt toast remained.

“Did you make the funeral arrangements,” Darla asked.

“We did them together three months ago, when the doctor told us the news,” Grady said. “He wanted graveside and no preacher. The funeral director will recite a few readings and if the busybodies want to say something, they can.”

“Sounds cold and clinical,” Randy said.

“Grandpa always said if you have something to say or something to do, do it before you’re dead. There aren’t any options afterwards,” Grady said with a sad smile.

“I heard you say that in your grandfather’s voice,” Darla said.

“He said most everything he could say to me,” Grady said wistfully. “When I took him to the hospital, he didn’t really speak again. He slept. Truthfully, he died in his sleep. He made damn sure to tell me everything that he wanted to tell me though. I understand, he’s gone and I’m alone, but I’m here to tell you that I’m one lucky guy. When we stand at the graveside and I bawl like a baby, you guys can hold me, but I want you to hold me like I am one of the luckiest guys in the world.”

All three turned their heads towards the front door as they heard a vehicle pull up in front of the house. Grady started stacking the plates. Randy stood up and grabbed the empty platter. “The cavalry has arrived. Everyone, take your places.”

His suit from last year did not fit. His dress shoes had not been cleaned from the last time he was at the cemetery and if Grady were to believe the screeching and squawking, the house had not been cleaned thoroughly since last year as well. He sat in the room they called the office and cleaned his dress shoes, happy to be out of the way.

Darla and Randy escaped round about noon. The ladies said their goodbyes in time to get back to town for happy hour at the Dogwood, but only after he had sworn by life and limb that he would get some decent dress clothes before the funeral the day after next. When the front door finally shut for the last time, Grady pulled a cold beer from the refrigerator and walked out to the back porch, where he slid into one of the rocking chairs.

After a few pulls, he held up his left hand towards the mountain. He felt the pull on his skin that emanated from a point somewhere between the folds where the Twin Sisters shot up from the base into the sky. His grandfather had talked his way around the bush using fifty different avenues about that point up on the mountain. Grady had followed his grandpa up through the terrain once a year since he was thirteen, but never quite all the way. Grady had not known they were not all the way to the end, but he knew the way. With the gem and its knowledge, he now knew the true end of the trail. He would need to visit there as soon as possible, but he would need a full day at least to climb on foot that far and return.

Grady took another pull from the bottle. As the pieces continued to fall into place, he better understood how his father had almost destroyed their heritage. Montana had been a form of exile, his grandpa’s deliberate attempt to get his son as far out of the way as possible without having to put him down. Sheep fucker extraordinaire, indeed; his father had been mentally incapable of embracing the inheritance. This inheritance brought no assurance of great success or genuine happiness to the holder.

Looking at the barn where his truck was parked and the first shed where they kept all sorts of equipment, Grady made a couple of decisions that his grandpa had refused to address the last several years. Maybe the old man did not have the strength to follow through and simply left the decisions to Grady. He had almost made it to ninety years old.

Whether he took the property off the grid was not important. Grady had long ago figured out that the place could thrive with a geothermal heat pump and either solar or wind. No more losing power when the blizzards roared, or the spring rains brought down everything that had weakened over the winter. Even the storage batteries had come down in price as their capacity had increased exponentially. He had the money, and he had the goal.

He needed a new girlfriend. The last one had been a bust, a seemingly friendly face that hid the need to have absolute control over every aspect of her life. Her view of the world was not that she looked good with makeup but that she had to have perfect makeup. He tried for six weeks to be the perfect boyfriend. Unfortunately, her idea of the perfect boyfriend was nowhere near his ideas of dating, friendship, and face slobbering. Grandpa had called her “an emasculating nut job in search of a straitjacket.” Grady learned a new SAT word.

He had still been licking his wounds when his grandpa took his final turn for the grave. None of that dating bullshit mattered now. He needed a woman who owned hiking boots and did not shy away from butchering a carcass or plucking feathers. Grandpa had found grandma, and they did not even have the internet back then, probably still riding their dinosaurs.

He wanted to cry but a guffaw slipped out instead. A few months before his grandmother’s stroke, they were snapping beans for dinner and absently talking about this or that. He asked why his dad was buried on top of his mother’s grave. There were plenty of empty slots in the family plot after all.

“It was my idea,” she said. “I may sound like an old woman worrying about the silliest of things, but I was concerned about your grandfather.” Grady gave her a look of confusion. “I was worried that if we put your father in his own grave, your grandfather was going to whip out his wiener and piss on the grave. Then, every time we would come out to the graves, he would have continued to unzip his pants and piss on the grave. He was that angry; he still is although he doesn’t talk about Norman these days. You’re coming of age and that is mostly what he talks about now,” she said, changing the subject.

Grady could not purge the image of his grandpa pissing on the grave. Grandma’s plan to keep public displays dignified had succeeded. No one wanted to pee on the grave of his blessed mother who not only died young but had shared a bed with Norman. Everyone who remembered her always spoke her name with sympathy. Grandpa had retaliated in the only way he could, by refusing to add a plaque with Norman’s name upon it at the grave site.

His bottle of beer was empty, and he was not in the mood for another one. He looked up at the mountain one last time before going back inside. He had managed to lose track of time and with it, the rest of his afternoon. Someone had left a ziti casserole in the refrigerator for him to find. He scooped out a good portion and heated it in the microwave.

Grabbing a fork, he took his dinner into the office. He snatched the piece of paper with the six numbers on it and opened the closet door. The only place he had ever seen a safe like this one was in the Wile E. Coyote cartoons. He spun the dial and lined up the numbers. The handle turned with a satisfying chunk of metal on metal.

The accounting books were in there, all of which needed to be converted to digital files. Grandpa was stubborn that way. There were other odds and ends like a coin collection that grandpa swore was his grandfather’s along with birth certificates and other documents. On top of the pile was grandpa’s journal, the secret one he would not even let his wife see. Grady lifted out the book and placed it with reverence on the desk.

He opened the book to a random entry near the front.

March 7, 1972

The jewel alarm went off last night. I left by horse early this morning and trekked up to the site. When I arrived around mid-morning, I spotted a figure lying down upon the pine needles. When I approached the creature did not stir. He looked like a male about five feet tall with funny yellow skin and strange clothes of a black fabric I did not recognize. He was breathing very shallow. When I shook him, his eyes fluttered open, but could not focus. The eyes were white on off-white with a tiny pinprick of black in the middle. I offered him a bit of water, which he accepted. He died about an hour later. Following my father’s instructions, I dragged the body over and touched the stones on either side. When the gate came to life, I tossed the body through it. I was back home by lunch.

 

Whew.

 

 

 

Chapter 3

Grady’s cell rang precisely at 8:30. “Hello, Mr. Comfrey. What can I do for you?”

Grady listened to his attorney pass on the information. With a pen in hand, he scribbled a couple of notes and a telephone number on the scratch pad as he leaned over the kitchen counter. He confirmed the telephone number and with a polite goodbye, he ended the call.

Grady scratched the four days of growth on his jaw as he considered the business offer Mr. Comfrey passed along. The query made much sense, solving some immediate issues, but they were issues that Grady could not explain to anyone. The hike up to the point on the Twin Sisters was much farther than he realized; the distance and the steepness of the trail would require at least an overnight if he walked.

Using a quad was banned by the federal rules his grandfather had signed. The Act was meant to maintain pristine conditions and quads were documented as tearing up the forest and the desert floors. Horses were the only solution. The problem for Grady was that his grandfather sold off the horses when Grady was seven or eight years old, declaring Grady was too young, and that he was too old to take care of them, and Grady’s father was a jackass.

Grady needed horses and he needed someone who knew what they were doing when it came to keeping horses. He could ride a horse and knew the bare basics of keeping the animals, but so did every other kid in the county. Horses were a gamble for most small outfits these days; the economics did not make owning them in any significant number easy. Of course, he was trying to keep people away at the same time as well.

He had buried his grandfather five days ago, and the busybodies had ceased coming to the house yesterday. When he hugged them he meant it, and when he said thank you for all the kindness, the gratitude was genuine. Still, he needed the solitude and the stretch of hours to sort himself and his future. There was no one he could turn to with the specifics he faced.

He had not picked up the diary again after reading that first entry. He needed to read it, but every time he walked to the office door determined to sit and open the text, he crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway, staring. He feared that with every page he read, the more deeply enmeshed he would become.

The instructions for completing his high school degree by Zoom had arrived yesterday. He needed to run by the school and get a few signatures to confirm and get started. Grady wanted to be at school his last semester, but he could not see how to juggle his new responsibilities with his previous life. Even with people to manage the trust, he still had to manage the people; Mr. Comfrey had been adamant about that responsibility. He picked up the school packet, flipped through the pages and put it down again.

“Aggh,” Grady yelled aloud to himself, “make a damn decision.”

He picked up his cell and inputted the number on the scratch pad. His thumb hesitated over the green button until he grimaced and pushed much harder than the phone required. He listened to the other end ring. He was almost hoping no one answered when he heard the line go live.

“Hello, this is Jessica,” the woman said.

“Hi, this is Grady Wolcott. I understand you are looking for a place to stable your horses?”

“Yes, I am. My, word travels around this town quickly. Do you have a stable available?”

Grady took a deep breath before answering. “We have a complete facility that has not been used in a number of years. We have a 15-stall stable, a couple of riding rings, and private riding trails. Everything needs a bit of TLC, of course.”

“Of course,” she said, before the line went silent. “I don’t mean to sound rude, but, um, how much are you expecting to charge to house my horses? I’ve already been jerked around twice since I arrived.”

“I’m not in a position to give you a number at this time,” Grady said. “I buried my grandfather several days ago, and I’m only now taking over the ranch and getting the estate in order. I would be pleased to open the stable again. What I can suggest today is that you come by the ranch and see if what I have is up to your standards.”

“I can do that,” the woman said. “Do you have time today?”

Grady looked around the kitchen and out into the living area. “Yeah. How about early this afternoon?”

“Where are you located?”

“The Twin Sisters ranch is on Route 50. If you’re in Clinton, just go north out of town and I’m a ways up the road where the Twin Sisters Peak are huge and block out the sky. The gate is open. Oh yeah, make sure you have a decent tank of gas when you come out here, just in case. From Clinton, you are going to drive a long way.”

“I don’t mean to pry, but are you the only person at the ranch?” Jessica asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” Grady said, suddenly tired of the conversation. “If you like what you see, we’ll sit down with my attorney in Clinton and work up the terms of a contract. I look forward to meeting you.” He hung up without waiting for a reply.

“Another damn busybody,” he grumbled, rubbing his stubble again. The exchange was enough to shake off his atrophied state of being though. He called the school and made an appointment. He shaved, slipping into clean clothes afterwards. He even called the attorney and scheduled a walkthrough of the trust and its businesses with the para-legal. He poked his nose in the deep freeze making notes of what was needed to restock. Then he stood at the doorway of the office again, staring at the closed diary. Peanut butter and jelly on sourdough suddenly appealed to him, and he went to the kitchen.

By the time he cleaned up lunch, he heard a standard SUV engine, slightly underpowered, pull in out front. He scooped up his hat and stepped out onto the front porch. Whoever Jessica was, she had a seriously expensive piece of European manufactured metal. He had been concerned that this woman was a rich amateur, some of whom had appeared in the county from time to time with big ideas of striking it rich “in God’s country” with the ignorant bumpkins and the hicks. His concerns were not assuaged.

The driver climbed out of the vehicle first, wearing jeans and a flannel shirt under a lined jacket. Grady gave her points for being practical. Then the passenger door opened. She was near Grady’s age and there was no doubt she was striking. The upscale jeans, the sculpted blouse that pulled around her breasts just so with a jacket pulled back enough to let the world see that her figure was a sight to behold. Grady looked back at the woman who was examining him, as if judging his response.

Grady sighed. The entire effect was a well-done riff on his former girlfriend. He did his best to ignore the passenger and turn his attention fully to the woman. “Hi Jessica, I’m Grady. Welcome to the Twin Sisters Ranch on a cold, blustery day. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“You are a bit of a ways out,” Jessica said, coming forward. “The land is beautiful out here and the mountain behind is certainly dramatic. This is my daughter, Christina.”

“Christina, welcome,” Grady said with a nod in her direction. “Do you go to Jasper All County High?”

“Yes, I started a couple of weeks ago. Do you?” Christina asked as if she were interrogating a suspect.

“Yeah, but my grandpa who raised me died last week. I’ll stop by tomorrow, but I’m going to need to finish the year remote.”

“You have internet out here?” Jessica asked.

“Yeah, Grandpa got fed up with the big cable company years ago. He founded North County Cable Company and hired some people to run the lines and build the infrastructure, which has since gone all things digital. You passed a cell tower about a quarter mile back and probably didn’t recognize it. We also have a satellite backup on the back of the house.”

Jessica looked at her daughter whose look of boredom broadcast louder than anything digital in the area. Grady determined that the girl was more trouble than she was worth. Then again, he needed a horse without the hassle of taking care of it.

“My family has lived here for over a hundred years, and every generation has sunk a little bit more into the area,” Grady said. “Would you like a tour of the ranch?”

“Sure,” Jessica said, coming to stand in front of him. “You’re only eighteen?”

“Yes, indeed,” Grady said, trying not to clench his jaw. “Is that a problem?”

Jessica pushed her hip to side and rested her fist on it. “I’ve not met many eighteen year-old's who are mature enough and experienced enough to do business like contracts and leases. There are tens of thousands of dollars or more at stake, and I need a reliable landlord who I can trust to take this opportunity seriously.”

“I understand,” Grady said. “If you’re not comfortable, you are welcome to return to town. You haven’t taken any of my time thus far. You’re new to the area, and now that we’ve made acquaintances, you’re welcome to do what you need to do.” He stood there with his fingers hooked in back pockets.”

Jessica squinted. “You know what you’re doing.”

“Ma’am, I’ve been running this ranch on my own with my aging grandfather keeping an eye on me and guiding me. It’s not that I know what I’m doing but that I know what I need to do.” Grady dropped his arms at his sides. “While you’re here, if you would like a tour of the place, I will gladly show you and your daughter around the property. The property goes a long, long way down the road and up the mountain though, so all we have time for is the buildings down here.”

“Come, Christina, we’re going to take a tour of the place,” Jessica said, without a hint of expectation.

“This is obviously the main house,” Grady said, gesturing to his home. “We have several outbuildings and fenced areas around the back. We raised horses and chickens for many years, decades really. We have had goats and sheep when we thought the economy could support them and got rid of them when there were downturns.”

They were walking around the side of the house towards the back. “Do you have a lot of predators up here?” Jessica looked at him.

“We have bears, cougars, lynx, wolverines, martens, and coyotes that pass through, though they don’t tend to hang around the immediate area,” Grady said. “There are better hunting grounds further to the west and the north, and less people to avoid as well. The foxes poke their noses around the immediate grounds regularly. If you decide to board your horses here, I will probably start training up some pups to guard the property. With hay and grain storage, we may need to bring in some barn cats. There are some venomous snakes out here.”

“Snakes?” Christina chimed in. “I hate snakes.”

Grady was about to retort when he thought better of it. He nodded his head, acknowledging that she had said something, and nothing more. He took them through the stable, letting them check out the hayloft above and the equipment rooms. After the stable, he showed them the outbuildings where they stored the other equipment, including the plow that fit on the front of his truck. The old bunkhouse was dusty but still standing. He even showed them where he expected to plant the solar panels, since he had plenty of space.

“What about the trails?” Jessica inquired.

“If you bring up a couple of your horses, I’d be glad to show you the near trails,” Grady said. “We have government restrictions from going further up the mountain, not that there is much reason to take a horse up there anyway. Everything that a way,” he said pointing westward and sweeping towards the north, “is under an agreement with the government to maintain as pristine. Horses are allowed.”

“Why?”

“They pay us for the privilege,” Grady said with a shrug. “I’ve got water and soda in the house if you’re thirsty. I’m not sure I have any diet soda though. The busy. . .my grandpa’s friends drank most of it and I don’t touch the diet stuff myself.”

“I could use a glass of water. What about you Christina?”

“Sure,” Christina answered as if it was the last thing she ever wanted.

Keeping his thoughts to himself, Grady told them to wait a sec as he closed the last of the shed doors and threw the lock. When he turned back, Jessica had already started walking towards the house. Grady took in her figure, which was shapely.

“Are you staring at my mother’s butt?” Christina sneered.

“I’m sure her butt is lovely, but I’m looking at her boots and the fraying of her jeans at the bottom,” Grady said slowly. “I get a lot of pretenders who claim to be one thing or another. I may not be good at catching people lying, but I know what boots and jeans worn by riding and working on a ranch look like from behind. People lie, Christina. I prefer to keep such people off my property and out of my life. You agree?”

“Y-yes,” she answered, trying to keep the confusion off her face. “We own ten horses. We have seven mares, a stallion and two geldings.” She recouped. “We don’t lie; we’re not that kind of people.”

“Good to know,” Grady said, picking up the pace to catch up to her mother before she walked into the house. “I don’t know until I know, now do I?”

After scoping out as much of the house as they could without being too rude, Grady invited them to sit at the kitchen table. There were issues and then there were issues. He let Jessica ask her further questions, and he even tried to answer some of them. He wrote them down. Christina acted as if she was bored beyond caring.

After Jessica wound down, Grady explained that any negotiations would be through his attorney. He invited her to have a second look-see if she needed one. After issuing the invitation, he ushered them out the front door as quickly as he could.

Watching them drive off, Grady wondered if all the hassle was worth it. He went inside to brew himself a cup of tea. Finally, having worn out every possible excuse and exhausted his best examples of procrastination, he sat down with the diary in the living room.

 

Chapter 4

April 22, 1951

After weeks of anticipation, I finally asked Deanna Cullins out on a date. Her parents were not happy, but they agreed to let us go out during daylight hours. I took her on the Middle Western Trail that leads partway up the mountain, still in the hardwoods zone. I gave her Shelly to ride and saddled Zephyr for myself. With a picnic in the saddlebag, we had a grand morning riding the trail. I chanced upon one of the white markers that dad had explained my grandfather had erected as a boundary. We were walking the horses side-by-side as we passed the marker and Deanna froze in place. She had a half-smile on her face like she was enjoying the sunshine. It took a few minutes, but I got her turned around and recrossing the marker. She perked right up as if nothing had happened. Dad explained some things when I asked him after she left.

Grady remembered those markers. He had passed five or six of the markers when he rode the middle trail. His grandpa nor his grandma had not mentioned anything special about them other than dating them back to the original Wolcott who set the stones.

May 6, 1951

I went back out with Deanna Cullins on the trail for a second rendezvous. We went with another couple this time, Tad and Karen. We passed the marker again and all three of them froze while their horses appeared unaffected. I said a few things to Deanna while she sat in the saddle, and then I spoke briefly to Tad and Karen. I led them back to the near side of the marker. We found ourselves a quiet patch in the shade and Deanna and I spent some time acquainting each other with our bodies. We didn’t do the deed, but we could have!

 

“Wow,” Grady said. “Grandpa, you were a horn dog.” He had an erection after reading that entry.

October 21, 1954

The alarm went off before daylight, waking my dad who woke me. Mom slept. I helped him saddle his horse and watched him trot up to the upper trail. Dad returned with a terrible wound on his right side. I honestly don’t know how he made it back because it was still bleeding. We got him to the hospital.

When he woke up the next morning, he ordered me to go to the gate. He told me to strip the body, touch the right and left stones and roll the body through the gate. The body was purplish-black with knobs above the eyes and on the cheeks while the hands had six digits. Dad had blown a hole through its midsection. There was a bunch of odd things in its pockets and unusual coins in a pouch around its neck. I took care of the body and rode home with the loot in both saddlebags.

An idea popped into Grady’s thoughts. In the office, he spun the dial and opened the safe. He pulled out all the accounting books and set them aside. After he pulled out the stock certificates and the various birth certificates, social security cards and other documents, he discovered one last thin documents box big enough for important papers. He pried off the lid. Inside was a sheet of yellow pad paper and a key securely nestled in a foam cutout. The writing on the paper was in his grandfather’s handwriting.

“Grady, behind the tractor, behind the used oil barrel. You’ll need a lantern. -Grandpa Jedidiah.”

After propping the box on the desk, Grady refilled the safe and closed the door. The thought that a keyhole existed somewhere on the ranch that he had never found was disconcerting. He was torn between returning to the journal or rushing out to the further equipment shed.

April 4, 1954

I took Henrietta out on the middle trail. We did not even make it to the marker when she coaxed me off my horse and seduced me in the larch grove. SHE told me that we were going to get married. I danced with her like a crazy fool with my pecker bouncing every which way, I was so happy. I took her past the marker and indeed, she froze. As my father instructed me, I said a few things to Henrietta about what to ignore and how to react to all things that might happen because of the gateway. She chose me and I feel whole, like I’m ready for the decades ahead.

Grady wandered over to the picture of his grandparents on their wedding day. They were both all smiles, leaning into each other. The house felt lonely suddenly. Grady turned back to the rest of the room, remembering his grandparents sitting in their favorite spots after dinner. The memory brought a smile to his face.

August 13, 1962

The woman at the gate was dressed in layers of a silken material and on her head was a helm that was well used. In her arms was a bound book. When I approached, she smiled at me and bowed from the waist. She had delicate features and yet they were not quite human. She was an ideal of beauty that a man would recognize but she was alien. She held up her finger and touched the jewel on my chest.

“You can understand me, now, yes?”

When I told her I could, she handed me the book and a pouch of coins that later proved to be rare earths. She begged me to destroy the book because it was the “bringer of death” so powerful that no one could destroy it on her world though many had tried. I said I would do as she asked, and she returned through the gate as if using it was an ordinary thing to her.

I dared not to open the book. I added it to the burn barrel behind the stable, watching the pages turn quickly to ash. Sometimes, it’s a terrible thing to have a vivid imagination.

Grady turned the page as he sipped a coke.

January 15, 1963

The alarm went off. With six inches of snow still on the ground I rode up there, or rather plowed through the cold and wet. I was met by a human man dressed in dated clothing. He was speaking Spanish, but I could not really understand his words or the way he spoke. I had him touch the stone and immediately we both understood the other. He wanted to know the date. When I told him, he was surprised. He said he had kept careful count and only three years had passed to the three hundred of which I spoke. He reached into his pocket and handed me a gold coin with a cross on one side and Latin words on the other. I shook his hand, and he returned through the gate.

“Is there some sort of damn instruction manual that goes with this gateway thingamabob?” Grady asked, looking up from the page. “Grandpa never gave me any instruction on what I’m supposed to do.” There was no ghost of grandpa to answer his plea.

Grady put down the journal when he got through most of the 1980’s. His grandfather had encountered sentient beings coming through the gate in dribs and drabs, sometimes twelve times a year or even as many as four times a month. Only twice had he been forced to track the being who walked far from the gate and both times had been violent meetings. Grady was thankful his grandfather had taught him how to hunt and how to shoot with a handgun as well. Apparently, there had been more to it than shooting tin cans off the fence post.

Looking out the kitchen window as he stretched his back, Grady decided there was enough daylight left to check out the keyhole behind the oil barrel. He skipped the old lantern and grabbed the LED light that they used for camping and power outages.

In the shed, he could see where the barrel had been shoved to the side before although the shadow of lacking dust was faint. He pushed the barrel aside and bent down to find the keyhole. The key slid in all the way to the head, the blade disappearing inside the wall. He turned the key, feeling the tumbler roll with the key. The entire wall with the shelves on it popped slightly forward. Grady had to use the tips of his finger to pull the door open.

He popped open the LED lantern and descended the revealed concrete steps into the darkness. At the bottom, Grady was forced to turn left. He held up the lantern and the first thing he saw was shelves. He took a couple of tentative steps into the room. The shelves were full of items. On his left he saw swords, knives, and objects for which he had no names, but they looked lethal. Further down, he peered at stacks of folded fabrics, the likes of which he had never seen. Some glittered in the light as if their threads were glass.

He faced the other side with the lantern held high. Necklaces hung on pegs. Rings were resting on velvet dowels, their metals and jewels winking back at him. Some of the rings were plain and dull, but one stood out black and non-reflective. His eyes shied away from it. Below were more objects, most of which he could not easily identify with a simple look. A small cube, no bigger than his thumbnail that he thought might be a die chimed when he lightly touched it with the pad of his finger. He hastily withdrew his finger.

He turned towards the back of the room, where a sturdy wooden table was pushed against the wall with a chair underneath. As he drew near, he noticed the clipboard resting on the table with a pile of thick white sheets secured under the spring-tight bar. The inventory was written in a hand he did not recognize. Looking to the right corner, Grady caught sight of the journals that looked like his grandfather’s upstairs. There were four of them.

Setting the lantern on the table, he retrieved the first book on the left. The pages were full of entries in a highly stylized English, the letters had large loops and entries began with over sized capital letters. One entry he read made clear he was reading the same encounters of his great-great-grandfather, although from earlier days. The second book had handwriting that was simpler, easier to read. The final book was completely blank. He put the first two back and kept the blank one.

He gave the room one more cursory look-over before climbing the steps. He closed the door and turned the key in the opposite direction, listening for the tumbler to fall back in place. Returning to the outside, the shadows were long, and sun was nearly set.

He scooped out the last of the rice dish made with ground lamb and shoved it in the microwave. After placing his dish on the table, he retrieved his grandpa’s journal and flipped towards the end of the book. The next to the last entry was dated twenty years ago.

February 15, 2003

The alarm went off at 6:30 in the morning. I was up at the gate by 10:30 with my shotgun at the ready. There was a burning smell of singed bushes and foliage, like those idiots who used to burn leaves in the autumn. Stepping into the area in front of the gate, I saw nothing right off, but I could see why the place stank of burnt leaves and such. The snow was gone, and the near trees and bushes were blackened like they had been heat flashed. Whoosh!

When I looked up, I noticed a sharp, bright spot hiding in the needles of the evergreen tree. I yelled at it to come down, while pumping my shotgun. Much to my surprise, the creature pulled away from the branch and dropped down as if gravity had no effect upon it. Then it zipped around me, circling twice before it dove into the keystone above the gate.

I haven’t been that scared in a long time. A few heartbeats later, the thing leapt out of the stone and drilled right into the jewel stone on my chest. The damn thing started getting hot quick and I thought I needed to rip the stone off my chest. Just when the heat hit the point where I was sure it would sear the flesh, the creature shot out of the stone. It circled me one more time and disappeared back through the gate without activating the gateway stones.

When I got home, I threw away that pair of briefs.

Grady did not know what to make of that tale. He examined the stone at the end of the necklace, finding no scorch marks or cracks in it. Back in the book, the last entry was dated a year ago.

May 12, 2021

Grady, we buried your grandmother two days ago and I realize my time is near the end as well. I am tired through and through, and now I’ve lost my heart mate. Your father was supposed to train you for the job, but, well, we know how that ended. He nearly torched the whole enterprise. I had to drag a few people to the markers and “redirect” them. I had to kill a man and a woman too, to protect the gateway, and all of it was your father’s fault.

The rule was the next-in-line could not be brought into the know until they had reached eighteen. By the time you got there, I’m flat out busted in body, spirit, and I fear, my memory. Begin here with the journal to guide you. You will find the place where your great and great-great hid and disguised our legacy. I did not learn everything they found either. Take this lesson from them to heart: They were part of the community, investing in the wellbeing of our neighbors and friends. This is our best fence for keeping the gate safe. You have a good heart, and I know you will do the same thing.

The jewel will vibrate when the gateway has been activated. If you don’t move your butt soon after, it will give you a little shock that is most unpleasant.

No one has passed through the gateway in ten years. The last person was an adventurer who was looking for the strange and the exotic. I traded him my folding trail knife for a handful of raw jewels, most of them were semi-precious. Satisfied with our trades, he turned and went back through the gate. None have emerged since.

Get yourself a college education. You can use that internet thing and bring the education to you. You may be bound to the mountain, but you can bring the world to you. I did. Put in that solar dingy you were so excited to learn. Why not?

Drink deeply from the well of lust and love. Make more friends and feed them well with your attention. Remember me fondly, Grady. You have been a great source of light and delight in your years with us. -Jedidiah

Grady bawled again, great heaping sobs of sadness and loss wracked his frame. He thought he was crazy, knowing he had lost his best friend and still being the luckiest man in the world. He wiped his nose on his sleeve and then had to use the other sleeve. When the crying finally stopped and the hiccups that followed ceased, Grady took his dishes to sink and snagged an ice cream sandwich from the freezer.

Feeling like he now had his grandpa’s blessing, he sat at the desk reading all the parts that he skipped. He did not realize that Martha, the ranch office manager had been with the family for decades. Nothing was written explicitly, but he read what he thought was circumstantial evidence that she may have done more than just the paperwork. Of course, his grandparents were already old and joking about “the days when they could” when he was coming into puberty. Still, he was confident there was something else not said in the entries.

He did not know how late the hour was, but he was too restless to lay his head down on the pillow just yet. He began to examine the house closely. He knew the side with the office, bath, and bedrooms were the oldest part of the original house. Each generation had contributed something. His grandpa reminisced about the days when his father, Grady’s great-grandfather Jeremiah, added indoor plumbing. His grandma had insisted that the west side of the house be expanded to accommodate a modern kitchen and a laundry room back in the 1970’s; they took pictures of the avocado green appliances. The septic tank and its field were to the east of the house and accepted a line running from the stable and the bunk house as well.

He paced the walls, looking for discrepancies in the depth of the rooms. He checked behind the bookshelves and poked around the back of the closet in the front hall. A thought struck. He rushed back to the office and opened that closet door. Getting down on his knees and pressing the side of his head to the floor, he confirmed that the big, old safe was on wheels. “That’s odd,” he exclaimed.

He grabbed the back of the safe and tried to wiggle it. The front moved slightly. Bracing himself, he tried to pull the safe out of the closet. The box started to roll and then lurched to a stop when it hit the kick plate on the doorframe. Getting back down on his knees, Grady examined the strip of wood, looking for clues. When he compared it to the rest of the door frame and to the wood inside the closet, he figured the strip was a later addition, probably to plug a draft coming from the closet.

He was ready to run out to the shed for a crowbar when he stopped himself. Sitting cross-legged in front of the closet, he rubbed his eyes. They were dry and they hurt. He levered himself up and turned off the light when he departed the room.

He stripped and crawled under the covers. He stared at the ceiling, wondering what he needed to do first tomorrow. Exhaustion pushed his eyelids down and he slept.

In the morning, he felt like a new person. The house still felt empty and too big for one person, but he also confirmed a measure of peace. He downed a cup of coffee without tasting it. Shrugging on his warmest coat, he surveyed all the outbuildings, building a mental list of what chores needed to be done. When he finished his circuit, the accomplishment was like a good meal in his belly, satisfying.

He downed two bowls of cornflakes before he realized that the milk was starting to turn. He poured the remainder in the sink. As he opened the dishwasher, he remembered that he had not opened his cell phone either.

He glanced at his email. Jessica wanted to discuss rent; “good,” he thought. He also had calendar reminders for appointments at school and a longstanding dentist appointment he had conveniently forgotten. Randy checked in from the school bus stop, wanting to know if they could meet up after classes. Grady texted that he had a hankering for fries with gravy if Randy was interested too.

The structure of his day was shaping up and Grady determined that development was a good thing. He went to brush his teeth. Glancing into the office, he decided he had an overactive imagination.

 

Chapter 5

“Thank you, Mrs. Kuhn, you’ve been most helpful,” Grady said as he shuffled the papers into a stack he could carry. “If I heard you correctly, I can hop onto the Jasper Community College website and sign up there for admission and classes?”

“Considering that you are on your own now, community college is the least expensive option, Grady,” she said. “With your grades thus far, you certainly qualify for a state college. They have rolling admissions and online options for everything but sports, but the cost is significantly more.”

“Grandpa left me some money, and I’ve got some irons in the fire,” Grady said as he stood up. “I believe I have options.” They shook hands warmly before Grady made his goodbyes. He waved to all the staff before departing.

He planted himself outside the main doors of the high school, waiting for Randy to appear. Some of the people greeted him as they rushed through the doors to escape after the bell. A few stopped to ask how he was doing and offer their condolences. Randy finally emerged with a full backpack and a look of annoyance on his face. He saw Grady and shook his head, “Murphy. Chemistry. Don’t ask. Oh, and drama in the girls’ locker room; I wish I could have been in there for that one.”

“Yeah, I’ve had that dream of being in the girls’ locker room since I was freshman, Randy. Nothing new.”

“There’s a perspective that I didn’t need to hear, Grady’s lusty fantasies,” Randy said. “Where’d you park?”

The Blue Comet had not changed names in eighty years, according to the sign posted just inside the doors. Grady thought they had not changed out or upgraded the tables or chairs either in eighty years. Randy suggested they should check the expiry dates on the cans in the kitchen before ordering. “You never know.”

They sat themselves in the pale blue vinyl covered booth and ordered without looking at the menu. Grady figured he had memorized it years ago. The only thing that changed was the prices and they always went up.

“What’re you up to, today?” Randy asked.

“I signed up for remote access to finish this semester and got the information on community college and state college,” Grady said. “I’ll watch the recordings at my convenience, take the tests online or submit the paper and be done. They made it drop dead simple. You?”

“Mr. Murphy cannot explain carbon chains to save his life,” Randy groused. “He doesn’t even bother to listen to my questions. He simply accuses me of not paying attention in class and never reading the book.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah, I mean, this time I really did,” Randy said as he swirled a French fry in the brown gravy. “Anyway, he’s a dick. The real news is there was cat fight in the girls’ locker room today and people got detention.”

“Were they naked?” Grady asked.

“I would like to think so,” Randy said. “Swinging arms and swinging tits in a free-for-all would be a dream I’d like to see come true. You would think with the way girls walk around with their cell phones glued to the palms of their hands, someone recorded it. Maybe we should check Instagram?”

“Who?” Grady said, chewing two fries at once.

“I know one of them was that new girl with the long brown hair,” Randy said. “She’s got a mouth and an attitude to power it. Darla isn’t a fan.”

“Christina Witt?”

“Yeah, have you met her yet?”

Grady dipped another fry before answering. “Her mother brought her by the ranch yesterday. They’re considering renting the stables.”

“Well, what did you think of her?” Randy asked.

“Nice tits,” Grady said with a momentary leer. “I dunno. She acts like a fish out of water, smacking anything that comes too close. She could be a bitch, but I’ll reserve judgment for now. I’m supposed to see her mother at 4pm and maybe Christina will be there. If she got in a fight, I guarantee she will be in fine form this afternoon, spitting vinegar.”

“Spitting venom,” Randy said before sitting back in his seat. “Are you seriously considering putting horses on the ranch again?”

“We only got rid of them because grandpa was too old and I was too young,” Grady said. “The way I see this deal is they take care of the horses, and I can add my horse, un-named and un-purchased at the moment, to the collection. I’ve got to take care of the entire property and a good chunk of it is only accessible by horse. I bet there are sections that haven’t been eyeballed in a decade.”

“Why do they have horses? What are they going to do with them?” Randy shrugged. “We’re not a tourist destination and dude ranches out here are dud ranches.”

Grady shrugged too. “I guess I’ll find out at four o’clock. You need a ride home?”

“Are we going to split the check?” Randy asked, reaching for his backpack.

“Consider it a thank you for holding my hand at the funeral,” Grady said.

“Thanks, Grady,” Randy said. “Now, can I ask, what the hell was so funny at the funeral?”

Grady dropped his friend off at his father’s office and parked his truck in the usual lot across the street from the attorney. He remembered to look both ways before crossing the street. He also double-checked that he did not have gravy stains on his shirt before he made an entrance. As he walked in, he wondered what he would have done if he had found gravy stains.

He greeted the P.A. as she walked into the waiting area to see who had arrived. “Hi Grady,” she said with a smile. “You’re causing a lot of work around here.”

“It beats the alternative,” Grady quipped, realizing he sounded exactly like his grandpa. He did his best not to cringe. “It’s good to see you again, Ms. Abbot.”

“Ms. Witt hasn’t arrived yet and Mr. Comfrey is still compiling the components of the lease agreement for the stable on your property. There are a lot of liability issues that need to be assigned properly. You can wait in the conference room until we start. Can I get you a soda or something?”

“I’m good, thanks,” Grady answered as the adult-ness of the conversation hit him in the gut. Perhaps it was the extra fat in the gravy, but he was feeling the discombobulation. His grandpa loved that word; he said he learned it from his grandfather.

He was not sure he fell asleep in the chair, but he was startled when his attorney walked into the conference room to tell him Ms. Witt was out front, and discussions could begin. Grady motioned his attorney over. In a soft voice, Grady explained that while he had no desire to give the rental on the cheap, the lease needed to go through. He had a need for the horses and having someone else maintain them was ideal.

Mr. Comfrey nodded that he understood the explanation.

Ms. Jessica Witt came in, escorted by her daughter who was glowering at everyone and everything as far as Grady could determine. He also saw a bruise coming out on the side of her face. Christina slumped into a chair and laid her head down. Jessica introduced her daughter and moved on as if nothing was the matter. While the broad arrangement of the lease was reached easily because there were no issues with water usage and as Grady had already decided, with electricity as well. He had a responsibility to maintain the structure, and she had the responsibility to maintain the interior and the animals. Wild critters getting in were delegated to Acts of God.

After those broad, bright strokes, everything else got bogged down. Ms. Witt left no doubt that she was going to fight for every last penny and screw down the tiniest of details. Grady acknowledged that she was a tough negotiator.

After an hour and a half, he announced that negotiations had moved far beyond his expertise and even his ability to follow. He was going to offer to pick up dinner for everyone, but his attorney seemed to have another agenda. Instead, Grady asked Christina if she wanted to get an early supper while the negotiations continued.

Christina shoved the chair back and leapt out of her chair. “Yes,” she declared before hightailing it out the door. Grady waved goodbye, following her out the door with what he hoped was more dignity. Her hand was on the front door impatiently waiting for him.

When they stepped outside, he suggested a Vietnamese restaurant, which had her giving him a squirrelly look. “Whatever,” she barked.

The restaurant had bought the chairs at auction when the Presbyterian church closed. He did not know where they got the tables, but they were all square except for the eight-topper in the corner. The grandfather who founded the restaurant was a refugee from the Vietnam War, Grady explained. Now the daughter managed the restaurant, and the second grandson of the son was the chef. The son moved away years ago. Christina was unenthused.

Grady decided to change tactics. “I hear you beat the shit outta couple girls in the locker room today. Did you get what you wanted?”

“Kimberly Masters will never smile straight again,” Christina said matter-of-factly. “I wiped that smirk off her face for good. Her little sidekick, Ashley, won’t be able to pee straight for a week and every time she tries to take a cock in her cunt in the coming years, it’s gonna tug.”

“Interesting,” Grady said.

“You want to fuck with me, I will fuck you over. If I have to hunt you down and tear out your throat with my teeth, I will do it. If they didn’t know before, they know now.”

“Damn, I want you as my wing man when I go to the bar this weekend,” Grady said. “No one is going to mess with me.”

“Yeah, I did a fuckin’ stupid,” Christina admitted. “I can only be pushed so much though.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, the real crime is that you cut to the front of the line of people who wanted to do Kimberly, not Kim, Masters harm.” Grady nodded when she perked up her eyebrows. “Her daddy is the preacher over at the Evangelical church, and she’s a preacher’s kid through and through. She believes her shit don’t stink and that no one can touch her.”

Christina seemed to chew on that information for a bit. “Jesus didn’t save her today, that’s for sure. Are we going to order some food? I’m starving.”

“The food was ordered the moment we walked in the door. The Trangs are friends of the family; their grandfather and my grandfather go way back. We eat here on Easter and at our place on Thanksgiving. When I come here, I eat what they serve me.”

A little girl about ten years old placed a plate of rice paper spring rolls on the table with a small dish of brown sauce. She giggled before running back into the kitchen. Christina looked confused.

“Her name is Cai, and she told me when she was five years old that she was going to marry me when she grew up,” Grady said. “I’m a bit concerned that she will hold me to it.”

Christina cocked her head the other way, “You’re being humorous, right? You have this dry, dry sense of humor?”

Grady nodded before dipping his spring roll in the sauce. “I blame my grandfather. I get all my best traits from him.”

Christina picked up a roll and dipped it in the sauce as well. She took a bite, chewed, and nodded with satisfaction. “Why are you being nice to me? I know I’m channeling the rage of the Eternal Bitch Goddess of Vaginal Secretions.”

Grady almost spewed his food across the table. “You’re channeling what? May God have mercy on Kimberly. I think she needs divine protection.”

“You didn’t answer my question, Grady?” The annoyance was obvious.

Grady finished his spring roll in silence, wiping his finger on his napkin when he finished. “First, you’re new here and many of the folks in the county know to each other. Outsiders feel like there is a closed circle they may not enter. Second, no one moves back here unless there is a reason, not a good one usually, which colors the fact that no one moves here unless there is a similar sort of reason. Your mother carries herself like a professional, is educated, has business experience, and speaks well without saying a lot about herself. Folks would call her ‘capable’. I speculate that the reason you’re here is not happy sparkles and glitter balls.”

“My dad,” she said, looking up as the kitchen door swung open.

Cai walked in with two over sized bowls, which she placed before each of them.

“Do I have to tip you for service tonight,” Grady asked Cai. She gave him a look of scorn and held up her index finger without saying a word. He looked at Christina, “She may be a junior member of your cadre.”

Before she could retort, he continued, “You were saying, your dad is the reason?”

“He got caught porking the client or clients; I’m not sure how many and it’s better not to ask,” she said. “There’s a pre-nup in place, but there is some stuff that isn’t covered in the agreement. For that reason and some others, we moved here. Mom will bring out the horses, and we’ll start over. Is this soup?

“Pho,” Grady said. “Main course noodle dish with broth, vegetables, and chicken tonight. Those red threads are spicy Thai chilies. You eat this dish with chopsticks and a spoon.”

“Do men ever stop thinking with their dicks?” she asked before taking a sip of the broth. “Oh yeah, don’t bother answering, you like looking at my mom’s ass.”

 

Chapter 6

“They signed the lease?” Darla asked.

Grady scarfed down another chocolate chip cookie. “They put down a month’s rent as a security deposit. I expect the horses to show up next week.”

“Money in the bank means you’re flush this month,” Randy said, snatching a cookie from under Grady’s hand.

“Get your filthy mitts off my cookies. Darla made them for me,” Grady said. “You already get Darla’s cookies, you greedy little shit.”

Darla raised her eyebrows. “Is that what we’re calling it now, Darla’s cookies?”

“Yummy!” Randy crowed.

Grady turned to face her. “He’s your problem, Darla. In my case, I already spent the money they gave me.” Grady looked at them with a smirk on his face. “I’m putting in a solar array on the east side, facing southward. I could have bought them cheaper myself, but arranging transport and delivery was not that much cheaper and a huge pain in the ass.”

“I thought you said it’s illegal to take your house off the grid?” Randy said. “You going to go rogue on us, cowboy?”

“Bait and switch, my dear friend, hide and seek,” Grady said as he turned both hands palm up and then palm down. “The line from the utility is going to remain at the front of the property, attached to a new circuit panel in a small cinder-block building that will anchor a new front gate, as required by the lease. Grandpa never got around to installing camera feeds along Route 50 to cover the property heading west. I’ll use the utility line to power those feeds.”

“Sneaky,” Randy said. “I guess the poachers are going to be shit outta luck this year.”

“Yes, they will,” Grady confirmed. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have much work to do, little time, and less fortitude, having lost some of my cookies.”

“Hold on, cowboy,” Darla said, “Randy said that you said you were probably going to see Christina Witt. Inquiring minds want to know.”

Grady stood up. “According to the woman, Kimberly Masters taunted and pushed her one time too many and over one boundary line too far. For the record, she not only put down Kimberly, but she trashed Ashley as well. If it were me, I’d put her on the school MMA team.”

“We don’t have an MMA team, doofus,” Darla said. “She got suspended for a week.”

“That’s a lack we should rectify then,” Grady said with a big grin. “A suspension doesn’t matter, she was going to miss school anyway, picking up her horses and bringing them back. As for a second point for the record, I don’t trust Reverend Masters of Eastside Evangelical either and neither should you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a long drive.”

Grady appreciated the smell of the meatloaf with two strips of bacon on top as it cooked in the oven. He settled into his chair with one of the two journals that were written by his ancestors. The writing revealed that he was reading the words of his great-grandfather.

April 12, 1922

I found the remains of Isaiah Sims on the mountain. Damn fool was hunting on my land and traveled too far up the mountain. He must have been caught up in the suspension field when the mountain lion took exception to his presence in her territory. Even though he played the fool, I pray he felt nothing when she mauled him to death. I loaded his body on the horse and delivered the mutilated corpse to the Sheriff.

April 30, 1922

The alarm went off after sunrise. When I arrived at the gate, a woman in a flowing green gown was waiting. At first, I thought she was human, but her eyes had an almost oriental cast, and her streamlined ears were higher on her head though her tresses hid them at first. I doffed my hat, and she bowed her head. After she touched the stone, she told me she was on a quest for new seed. I was not sure what she meant until she attacked my belt and yanked down my britches. Let us simply agree we had a fair trade: she got her seed, and I got one outstanding ride I shan’t forget.

Grady did not know what to think about that entry. He could not imagine having sex with an alien woman, but he was willing to admit he probably would have done the same thing if a woman pulled his pants down. He saw no sense in judging a man and events from a hundred years ago. “Damn, I think the horn dog trait runs in the family.”

August 5, 1924

I had a bad one today. The gem alarm went off sometime in the middle of the night. Fortunately, the moon was full. When I got near the gate, I lit the lantern. I heard a slight scream and then crying. When I approached, I found a lump of rags, hiding poorly behind a tree. It was a child, and he was sobbing. He was not human, but human enough to understand his fear. I gave him water from the canteen. He sipped once. I gently took his hand and touched the stone. When I asked him if he understood me, he nodded but he did not speak.

His clothes were rent, as if great talons had struck him. There was dried blood covering parts of his body and he was obviously suffering great pain. I sat with him until he shook violently for an instant before collapsing in upon himself. The body chilled quickly. He had a short necklace around his neck with words no human had ever seen. He also carried two thick bracelets with similar words on them tied to a cord that encircled his waist, as if he was hiding them. The cord was a find in and of itself, a melding of metal and botany that I could not explain. I returned the body to the gate.

Grady made a mental note to check the shelves in the hidden room for the items. More concerning was the array of encounters his grandsires recorded. They had met violence, curiosity, seduction, business, and many other events in between. Intelligent creatures of all sorts and sizes had come through the gate, and he could not discern a pattern between the various engagements.

He was certain that the trust fund was the result of the long, long-term investments of his family, built upon the gifts, loot, and remainders they collected from the travelers who emerged through the gate. He also understood his grandpa’s admonition not to take the money in the trust fund to heart. The true inheritance was the gathered goods below the shed and the encounters to come.

October 12, 1928

I had a runner today. When I got to the gate, the tracks leading away from the gate were clear. The print was squarer than a human boot and it sank deeper in the soil. I tracked the creature heading down the mountain heading towards the road. I was concerned that if it made the road, I would lose any ability to catch it before someone else spotted it. We have cattle running south, 4R Ranch; east, Circle B; and west of us, Double Diamond.

It was moving quickly, as surefooted as my horse. It turned west when it chanced upon Haver’s Ravine, which was my break. The ravine marries another crevasse that comes straight down the mountain, meaning the runner would meet a dead end. I rode with my shotgun in my lap. Sure enough, it was a big hulking creature draped with brown hair. It was digging furiously with a broad spear. When he saw me, he dug even faster, dirt flying in every direction. As I drew near, he pulled a small sapling from his pack and planted it in the hole. I sat there on the back of my horse, staring in disbelief. It packed the soil around the plant, before standing up.

When I approached on foot, it threw down its pack from his back and leaned on the spear. I gave the creature a moment to attack me, but the creature stood its ground. I let it touch the stone. She explained she was a priestess, and their sacred tree had produced two seeds instead of one. Their lore said a second seed would bring only evil if left in the presence of the first seed. She asked her gatekeeper to send her to a goodly land where a sacred tree could flourish. I escorted her back to the gate, where she handed me her spear before departing.

A note was added later. The tree has taken root and is growing.

Grady had to pull out the survey plats after reading that entry. He had never been down that stretch of the ravine before. Spread out on the dining table, he leaned over trying to trace the route with his finger. He was a tad confused because the ravine was not entirely straight, and the crevasse was not clearly defined. What he really wanted to do was fly a drone with a camera over the area, which would be much more efficient. He needed to dwell on that option for a while. “It’s near a hundred years old. What the hell does a sacred tree do?”

December 21, 1929

I had a nasty little bastard today. Without warning or a how-do-you-do, the creature charged me using a funny looking club with a blue sphere at the end of it. One shotgun blast dropped it. Vaguely reptilian and with a malodorous stench, I pushed the body back through the gate and tossed my good saddle gloves after it. They were ruined. He had several pouches with powders in them, three throwing knives, a barbed belt, and a clutch of carved bones with spurs at the end that had an orange goo on the tips. The powders and bones went in the burn barrel. I can’t figure out what the blue sphere does.

The 4R ranch went bust. The Circle-B bought the remainders of their herd, but I don’t think the Jessops have the financial wherewithal to carry forward either. The stock market collapse hit small ranchers hard and fast. They say almost two-thirds of the cattle trains to Chicago have been canceled.

March 7, 1930

I am at a loss. I arrived at the gate sometime after noon; I forgot my watch again. Two creatures were waiting for me, one was an old male, and the other was a young female. The light seemed to bounce off their skin, changing colors and shifting. After exchanging greetings, the old male explained that their land was being overrun by invaders, and they were some of the last to escape towards the gate. Its existence was secret in their world too. He asked me if I could watch over his granddaughter for one year before sending her back through the gate.

I replied that I had no way to hide her. Before I could protest further, he explained they were shape shifters after a certain manner (the translation did not really work), and that she would hide herself. He passed over a pouch of diamonds, some rough and some cut. Before I could say more, he tapped the stones and slipped back through the gate, leaving his granddaughter with me.

What choice did I have? I swung her up in the saddle and rode back to the house, still in the form in which she arrived. I sat her down in the living room where she promptly picked up the Sears & Roebuck catalog and began flipping through the pages, ignoring me. I went into the kitchen to start some grub. When I returned after setting some beans, eggs and sausage to fry in the pan, she was perusing my “Paintings of the World’s Masters” that my father bought me for my eighteenth birthday. I rushed back before dinner burned. When I came to fetch her for dinner, the most gorgeous, voluptuous human woman greeted me. I was gobsmacked.

She is sharing my bed.

“Yeah, horn dog definitely runs through the family,” Grady said. “Holy cow.”

March 1, 1931

Merri returned through the gate today. I would say that my heart is broken but she has come to know me better than I know myself. She went through many women in the county and decided without consulting me who I was going to marry. Had me hogtied and delivered to the altar before I had a chance to voice an opinion. Emma is going to bear my children and my heart is overflowing.

I bought the former 4R land from the bank for pennies on the dollar. I suspect I’m propping up the bank and keeping its doors open. I’m keeping an eye on the Circle-B property. The first storeroom is full.

Grady sat up straight, rereading the last entry. “The first storeroom is full?” He only knew about the one under the far shed and his grandfather’s journal never mentioned more than the one. In fact, he only had the one key. “Damn!” he shouted as he mulled the calendar; he had people and horses coming to settle into the stable in less than a week.

He placed a bookmark in the journal before closing it. Standing up, he glanced around the living room, wondering where in the heck his great and his great-great-grandfather would have hidden a storeroom. With a wife and children in the house, he doubted they would have left anything for curious and inquisitive minds to find. The shed was a good build, clever and difficult to discover.

The original stable was as old as the first house however, because they were built together. The stable had been patched and renovated over the decades though. Besides, he had played in the stalls when he was little and never noticed anything. Just two years ago, he had taken Betsy to play handsy in the stable many times, and he never saw anything out of place. She had small breasts, but they were sensitive. Too bad she liked football players, the attention, the social scene, and the parties more than stolid old Grady out on the ranch. She was still dating one of the starting linebackers.

He was off track and frustrated with himself. The sun had already set, and the solar install crew and the Rivera brothers had both set an early start time tomorrow. He was ready to kick furniture and toss pillows when another thought struck him. The gatekeepers needed access to the storerooms when they returned from the mountain, no matter the time of day or night. They could not leave the goods out for family members to find later. Therefore, the entrance had to be accessible.

He only had intuition to work with, but he felt confident that the first storeroom must have been accessed through the stable. He grabbed his coat and the lantern, hightailing it out to the stable. Inside the building, he hit the circuit breaker and turned on all the lights. For the time being, he dismissed the loft. He was seeking something mechanical.

Using the lantern to focus more light on the subject, he explored the outer walls, paying extra attention to the corners and to the back wall. He pushed and prodded every board in the stalls. All the walls were solid. The plumbing under the slop sink was firm and tight. Behind the slop sink was the first of two storerooms. The first was the tack room. There were shelves on the inside wall and a wall with large pegs for hanging almost anything one could imagine. The pegs moved but each hold was solid in the back, no secret switches.

He walked into the next room, which was where medicines were stored in an old pharmacy cabinet that must have come from town in the 1920’s or the 30’s. He checked the lockers where riders hung their clothes and kept their chaps and slop boots.