black feather, rocking gently in a breeze that could not quite pluck it
out of its sheltered niche and whirl it away.
She put her face to the window and peered up at the sky. High in that
blue vault, a single dark bird carved a tight circle, around and
around. It was too far away for her to be able to tell if it was the
same crow or another bird.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
They stopped at Mountain High Sporting Goods and purchased two sleds
(wide, flat runners, clear pine with polyurethane finish, a red
lightning bolt down the center of each), as well as insulated ski
suits, boots, and gloves -for all of them.
Toby saw a big Frisbee specially painted to look like a yellow flying
saucer, with portholes along the rim and a low red dome on top, and
they bought that too.
At the Union 76, they filled the fuel tank, and then went on a marathon
shopping expedition at the supermarket. When they returned to
Quartermass Ranch at one-fifteen, only the eastern third of the sky
remained blue. Masses of gray clouds churned across the mountains,
driven by a fierce high-altitude wind–though at ground level, only an
erratic breeze gently stirred the evergreens and shivered the brown
grass. The temperature had fallen below freezing, and the accuracy of
the weathermans prediction was manifest in the cold, humid air.
Toby went immediately to his room, dressed in his new red-and-black ski
suit, boots, and gloves. He returned to the kitchen with his Frisbee
to announce that he was going out to play and to wait for the snow to
start falling.
Heather and Jack were still unpacking groceries and arranging supplies
in the pantry. She said, “Toby, honey, you haven’t had lunch yet.”
“I’m not hungry.
I’ll just take a raisin cookie with me.” She paused to pull up the
hood on Toby’s jacket and tie it under his chin. “Well, all right, but
don’t stay out there too long at a stretch. When you get cold, come in
and warm up a little, then go back out. We don’t want your nose
freezing and falling off.” She gave his nose a gentle tweak. He
looked so cute. Like a gnome. “Don’t throw the Frisbee toward the
house,” Jack warned him. “Break a window, and we’ll show no mercy.
We’ll call the police, have you committed to the Montana Prison for the
Criminally Insane.”
As she gave Toby two raisin cookies, Heather said, “And don’t go into
the woods.”
“All right.”
“Stay in the yard.”
“I will.”
“I mean it.” The woods worried her. This was different from her
recent irrational spells of paranoia.
There were good reasons to be cautious of the forest. Wild animals,
for one thing. And city people, like them, could get disoriented and
lost only a few hundred feet into the trees.
“The Montana Prison for the Criminally Insane has no TV, chocolate
milk, or cookies.”
“Okay, okay. Sheeeesh, I’m not a baby.”
“No,” Jack said, as he fished cans out of a shopping bag. “But to a
bear, you are a tasty-looking lunch.”
“There’s bears in the woods?” Toby asked. “Are there birds in the
sky?” Jack asked. “Fish in the sea so stay in the yard,” Heather
reminded him. “Where I can find you easy, where I can see you.” As he
opened the back door, Toby turned to his father and said, “You better
be careful too.”
“Me?”
“That bird might come back and knock you on your 6s again.” Jack
pretended he was going to throw the can of beans that he was holding,
and Toby ran from the house, giggling. The door banged shut behind
him.
Later, after their purchases had been put away, Jack went into the
study to examine Eduardo’s book collection and select a novel to read,
while Heather went upstairs to the guest bedroom where she was setting
up -her array of computers.
They had taken the spare bed out and moved it to the cellar. The two
six-foot folding tables, which had been among the goods delivered by
the movers, now stood in place of the bed and formed an L-shaped work