Bitter Sweets

others do, too. It was an alternative lifestyle commune in the sixties and-”

    “Alternative lifestyles, oh, you mean a hippie joint,” Dirk said, sinking down onto the steps and dropping his canteen onto the dirt.

    “As I was saying,” Ryan continued, ignoring him, “the house itself is too obvious. Besides, I believe the well that once served the residence has dried up. That would mean he would have to carry water from the stream.”

    “The stream? What stream?” Savannah said, her own mental wheels churning.

    “The one that borders the property on the north and west. The one I told you about earlier that seldom dries up, even when the others do.”

    “Where you can catch trout with a rooster tail.”

    “Exactly.”

    “Are there other buildings that might be closer to the water source?” she asked.

    “That’s what I was thinking.” Ryan drummed his fingertips on the post. “If I remember correctly, there are a couple of outbuildings, small feed sheds, right beside the stream. The ranchers probably stored hay and grain for the animals there in the winter.”

    “Let’s go check them out,” Savannah said.

    “Yeah, let’s.” Still full of energy, Ryan bounded off the porch.

    Dirk dragged himself to his feet. “Oh, joy. We get to walk again. I can hardly wait.”

    As they approached the third outbuilding-a tiny, tar-papered shack with a corrugated tin roof-Savannah knew they had scored.

    “Look at that,” she said, pointing to the canvas bag that hung on the end of a rope, draped over an oak limb. “Isn’t that a camper sort of thing to do?”

    “Yes. It’s to keep the animals away from your food stash,” Ryan agreed.

    To their left, an expert campfire had been laid with lots of wood stacked nearby. On some rocks near the stream some clothing had been spread: a large pair of jeans, a towel, and a small Beauty and the Beast tee shirt.

    “At least Christy’s still okay,” Savannah said, greatly relieved.

    “Maybe,” Dirk added, always Mr. Negativity.

    They crouched behind a clump of sage and surveyed the surrounding area. Their hiding spot was the only one around. The brush appeared to have been recently cleared away and, other than the oak, there were no trees nearby.

    “Good choice,” Ryan said.

    “Yeah, he can see us comin’ a mile off,” Dirk added, wiping the sweat off his face with his sleeve.

    “We probably shouldn’t just march up to the door and knock a ‘shave and a haircut,’ huh?” Savannah’s legs were seizing into a cramp from squatting, so she knelt in the dust. It didn’t help much.

    “I wouldn’t recommend it,” Ryan said.

    “Mallock’s probably not even in there,” Dirk suggested. “It’s just some old codger who got sick of civilization and moved up here to get some peace.” Other people thought dark, pessimistic thoughts; but Dirk Coulter was always the first to utter them aloud. “It’s still daylight. Even if Mallock and the kid are here, they could be anywhere, doing anything. Choppin’ wood, skinnin’ a bear.”

    “Do you want to wait until dark?” Ryan asked.

    “Not really.” Savannah thought of how it would be to have to navigate the path they had just taken or spend the night out here in the sticks with nothing but mountain lions, coyotes, and friendly rattlesnakes for company. “I’d just as soon get it over with,” she said. “But there’s no point in all of us exposing ourselves. I’ll sneak up and take a peek in the window. Then I’ll come back here and let you know what’s up.”

    “I really think I should go,” Ryan said. “I know the two of you are exhausted, not being accustomed to hiking so far and-”

    “ I’ll go,” Dirk snapped. “I’m the cop around here, even if everybody does keep forgetting that little fact. You two are just along for the ride.”

    "Are you sure?” Savannah asked. “We could all go together.”

    “Yeah, right,” Dirk said irritably. “We’d look like the Three Stooges marching up there, three abreast.” He looked across at Savannah’s generous chest. “Okay, you definitely count for two, so it's four abreast.” He pulled his Colt and checked his ammo. “I’m going. You two are staying. I’ll take a look and then give you the high sign.”

    Cautiously, he left the meager shelter of the scrub and scurried toward the house, keeping low to the ground and out of view of the one small window.

    “What’s the high sign?” Ryan asked. “I’ve