The sheriff called him back at 10:00 P.M. Cam gave him an abbreviated summary of what he had been doing, and told him he’d found out what the term cat dancers meant.
“Hopefully it’s not too fanciful.”
“Actually,” Cam said, and the sheriff groaned. He groaned some more once he heard the story.
“Mountain lions? Guys chasing mountain lions for-what, the thrill of it all?”
“For a picture, actually,” Cam said. “That, of course, explains everything. I guess it’s extreme wildlife photography. Stand by for the documentary.”
“Judas Priest!” the sheriff said. “And the rangers told you that mountain lions are extinct up there?”
“Unfortunately, yes. The occasional sighting is excitedly reported-always with absolutely zero evidence.”
“And how exactly does this lunacy connect to our problems here in Manceford County?”
Cam began to make Indian chanting noises, indicating that he had no idea, and the sheriff swore. “Look,” he said. “Spend another day or so up there, report back in, and we’ll see where to go from there.”
Cam said, “Yes, sir,” and hung up. He went to the front door and looked out. It was snowing again, and this looked like more than a passing squall. He wondered if he ought to go out and put the snow straps on his tires, but he decided against it. The radio forecast had been for snow squalls only.
Half an hour later, he made the call. To his surprise, a man answered.
“I got a note to call this number,” Cam said. “Who am I talking to?”
“You want to know about the cat dancers?”
“That’s right,” Cam replied.
“Where you staying?”
Cam told him.
“Which cabin?”
“The only occupied one,” Cam said. “You’ll see my truck. You a park ranger?”
“Half an hour,” the man said, and hung up. Cam found his notebook and wrote down the phone number, along with a note to get Jay-Kay to ID the number for him. He checked on the snow again, and it was still coming down.
He considered his situation. He’d just told a stranger where he was, and that he was alone in an empty cabin park. There was only one road in and out of the cabin area. If another wrecking crew showed up, it would be a really bad idea to be trapped in the cabin. His problem was that he hadn’t brought extreme-weather clothing with him, he had only one nontactical weapon, and he had no backup. He’d just assumed that the phone number belonged to Mary Ellen Goode, the smiling ranger.
He figured he could try calling the local law. And tell them what? he wondered. Frick got up and came over to see what was bothering him. Well, I do have some backup, he thought as he rubbed her ears. Frack came over to get in line for ear rubbing. The shepherds could read his mood like a book.
He put on a second pair of socks, long johns, and a sweater over his flannel shirt. He got his coat and gloves, and happily found a knit watch cap in his bag. He opened the front door and looked out. The truck’s hood was already showing an inch or so of snow. The sky was completely overcast, and the whirling snowfall obiterated things far off. The vehicle tracks in the road were just faint indentations now.
Leaving the lights in his cabin on, he locked the front door. He got the Peacemaker and his Maglite, took the dogs out the back door, and walked next door to the adjoining cabin. He went around the side that was away from his cabin to minimize visible footprints. He tried its front door. It was locked, but the back door was not. He let himself and the dogs inside and unlocked the front door from the inside. The outside temperature wasn’t that cold, maybe low twenties, and it was the same in the empty cabin. The dogs had their winter growth, so they’d be all right. He set up a chair so that he could see the snow-covered lane between the cabins, then sat down to wait. The only lights visible were the one he had left on inside his cabin and the amber security light up at the office. He tried the phone in the empty cabin, but it was dead. He thought about going back and getting his cell phone but decided against it. He had the dogs, he had the Colt, and he wasn’t where he’d said he’d be. If hostiles were coming, he should have at least a little warning.
After thirty minutes of waiting, he got up and moved around the empty cabin. The mountain cold had begun to penetrate his layers of clothes and he needed to restore his circulation. The shepherds were curled up by the front door. Frack was dozing; Frick was watching Cam. The snow was still coming down outside, and now the security light up by the road was only an amber glow. The smoke from his cabin’s woodstove was barely visible.
The caller may have given up the trip because of the heavy snow, he thought. And if it had been a setup of some kind, the baby blizzard going on outside would make that sort of thing pretty difficult. He decided to give it another half hour and then go back to his heated cabin. He checked out the back windows of the cabin, but the falling snow obscured the ravine and hills behind the cabins. He went back to the front windows-no change: heavy snowfall, everything out front losing definition. And then Frick started growling, a deep belly growl that woke Frack right up. He got up and went to the door and sniffed it, then looked back at Frick, who was still lying on the floor, ears up and growling.
“What’s out there, killer?” Cam said, and she got up and went to one of the front windows. Whatever it was, Frack hadn’t heard it, and Cam certainly hadn’t heard it, but he’d learned not to ignore the dogs when they sensed that something wasn’t right. He palmed the Colt and began to go from window to window in the dark cabin, taking care not to silhouette himself. Although there was no moon visible, the snow brightened up the night and he could see pretty well in the immediate area around the cabin. Frick continued to growl quietly, although less frequently now. She lay down by the front door. He thought about letting her out, but if it was just a deer, she might get lost in the ensuing chase. A bear prowling for garbage would be another possibility, except they should be hibernating. He’d heard no vehicle noises, so it probably was wildlife.
He did another circuit of the windows-nothing. He thought about going back to his cabin, getting the cell phone, and dialing that number again, but something told him not to go outside. He watched the dogs. Frick had her head down on the floor, eyes watchful. Frack, as usual, watched her, ready to take his cue from his more aggressive partner. Neither dog seemed very anxious to go outside, which told Cam that they just might be afraid of whatever was out there.
Then Frick went on alert at the front door, getting up and staring at the door but making no sound, her hackles up and her body rigid in that position of readiness from which she would launch an attack. Frack moved behind her, also staring at the crack at the bottom of the front door. Cam moved to the back corner of the room, standing in relative shadow, and watched windows. There wasn’t a sound from outside-no wind, no crunch of footsteps in the snow, no engine noises. His breath formed little puffs of vapor in the frigid air. Then he thought he heard something out front, but it was a very subtle sound: a soft pressure on the porch floorboards, a muffled creaking noise. Cam crouched down in the corner of the room, pointed the Colt at the door, and watched the front windows very carefully, looking for shapes or shadows against the snow glare. The dogs suddenly went down on the floor, their eyes still locked on the front door but their bodies no longer poised for an attack. In fact, Frick was assuming what was almost a submissive posture, while Frack lay there, his head cocked sideways, listening to something. Cam thought he, too, sensed something out front, but knew he was just reacting to the dogs.