He felt somehow you might be in the cave.’
‘He had good reason to — ‘ Daniels started to say but he had barely
begun to speak when the night was rent by a shriek of terror. The shrieking
did not stop. It kept on and on. The sheriff thrust the lantern at Daniels
and hurried forward.
No guts, Daniels thought. A man who could be vicious enough to set up
another for death, to trap him in a cave — but who, when the chips were
down, could not go through with it and had to phone the sheriff to provide a
witness to his good intentions — a man like that lacked guts.
The shrieks had fallen to moaning. The sheriff hauled on the rope,
helped by one of Adams’ sons. A man’s head and shoulders appeared above the
cliff top and the sheriff reached out and hauled him to safety.
Ben Adams collapsed on the ground and never stopped his moaning. The
sheriff jerked him to his feet.
‘What’s the matter, Ben?’
‘There’s something down there,’ Adams screamed. ‘There is something in
the cave — ‘
‘Something, damn it? What would it be? A cat? A panther?’
‘I never seen it. I just knew that it was there. I felt it. It was
crouched back inside the cave.’
‘How could anything be in there? Someone cut down the tree. How could
anything get into the cave?’
‘I don’t know,’ howled Adams. ‘It might have been in there when the tree
was cut. It might have been trapped in there.’
One of the sons was holding Ben erect and the sheriff moved away. The
other son was puffing in the rope and neatly coiling it.
‘Another thing,’ the sheriff said, ‘how come you thought Daniels might
be in that cave? If the tree was cut down he couldn’t have used a rope the
way you did, for there wasn’t any rope. If he had used a rope it would still
have been there. I don’t know what’s going on — damned if I do. You down
messing in that cave and Daniels comes walking out of the woods. I wish
someone would tell me.’
Adams, who had been hobbling forward, saw Daniels for the first time and
came to a sudden halt.
‘Where did you come from?’ he demanded. ‘Here we been wearing out our
guts trying to hunt you down and then — ‘
‘Oh, go on home,’ the sheriff said in a disgusted tone of voice.
‘There’s a fishy smell to this. It’s going to take me a little while to get
it figured out.’
Daniels reached out his hand to the son who had finished coiling the
rope.
‘I believe that’s my rope,’ he said.
Without protest, taken by surprise, the boy handed it to him.
‘We’ll cut across the woods,’ said Ben. ‘Home’s closer that way.’
‘Good night, men,’ the sheriff said.
Slowly the sheriff and Daniels climbed the hill.
‘Daniels,’ said the sheriff, ‘you were never out walking in this storm.
If you had been you’d have had a whole lot more snow on you than shows. You
look like you just stepped from a house.’
‘Maybe I wasn’t exactly walking around,’ Daniels said.
‘Would you mind telling me where you were? I don’t mind doing my duty as
I see it but I don’t relish being made to look a fool while I’m doing it.’
‘Sheriff, I can’t tell you. I’m sorry. I simply cannot tell you.’
‘All right, then. What about the rope?’
‘It’s my rope,’ said Daniels. ‘I lost it this afternoon.’
‘And I suppose you can’t tell me about that, either.’
‘No, I guess I can’t.’
‘You know,’ the sheriff said, ‘I’ve had a lot of trouble with Ben Adams
through the years. I’d hate to think I was going to have trouble with you,
too.’
They climbed the hill and walked up to the house. The sheriff’s car was
parked out on the road.
‘Would you come in?’ asked Daniels. ‘I could find a drink.’
The sheriff shook his head. ‘Some other time,’ he said. ‘Maybe soon. You
figure there was something in that cave? Or was it just Ben’s imagination?
He’s a flighty sort of critter.’
‘Maybe there wasn’t anything,’ said Daniels. ‘but if Ben thought there
was, what difference does it make? Thinking it might be just as real as if
there were something there. All of us, sheriff, live with things walking by
our sides no one else can see.’
The sheriff shot a quick glance at him. ‘Daniels, what’s with you?’ he
asked. ‘What is walking by your side or sniffing at your heels? Why did you
bury yourself out here in this Godforsaken place? What is going on?’
He didn’t wait for an answer. He got into his car, started it and headed
down the road.
Daniels stood in the storm and watched the glowing taillights vanish in
the murk of flying snow. He shook his head in bewilderment. The sheriff had
asked a question and then had not waited for the answer. Perhaps because it
was a question to which he did not want an answer.
Daniels turned and went up the snowy path to the house. He’d like some
coffee and a bite to eat — but first he had to do the chores. He had to
milk the cows and feed the pigs. The chickens must wait till morning — it
was too late to feed the chickens. The cows would be waiting at the barn
door.
They had waited for a long time and it was not right to make them wait.
He opened the door and stepped into the kitchen.
Someone was waiting for him. It sat on the table or floated so close
above it that it seemed to be sitting. The fire in the stove had gone out
and the room was dark but the creature sparkled.
_You saw?_ the creature asked.
‘Yes,’ said Daniels. ‘I saw and heard. I don’t know what to do. What is
right or wrong? Who knows what’s right or wrong?’
_Not you_, the creature said. _Not I. I can only wait. I can only keep
the faith._
Perhaps among the stars, thought Daniels, might be those who did know.
Perhaps by listening to the stars, perhaps by trying to break in on their
conversations and by asking questions, he might get an answer. Certainly
there must be some universal ethics. A list, perhaps, of Universal
Commandments. Maybe not ten of them. Maybe only two or three — but any
number might be enough.
‘I can’t stay and talk,’ he said. ‘I have animals to take care of. Could
you stick around? Later we can talk.’
He fumbled for the lantern on the bench against the wall, found the
matches on the shelf. He lit the lantern and its feeble flame made a puddle
of light in the darkness of the room.
_You have others to take care of?_ asked the creature. _Others not quite
like yourself? Others, trusting you, without your intelligence?_
‘I guess you could say it that way,’ Daniels said, ‘I’ve never heard it
put quite that way before.’
_Could I go along with you?_ the creature asked, _it occurs to me, just
now, that in many ways we are very much alike._
‘Very much — ‘ But with the sentence hanging in the air, Daniels
stopped.
Not a hound, he told himself. Not the faithful dog. But the shepherd.
Could that be it? Not the master but the long-lost lamb?
He reached out a hand towards the creature in a swift gesture of
understanding, then pulled it back, remembering it was nothing he could
touch.
He lifted the lantern and turned toward the door.
‘Come along,’ he said.
Together the two of them went through the storm toward the barn and the
waiting cows.