The beautiful little valley was another thousand feet higher than the ranch. It consisted of about ninety pine-clad acres and had a small creek flowing out of the mountains with a lush meadow and small three acre lake right in the middle of it. Several spires of granite marked the entrance where a narrow hint of a trail wound its way up the last few hundred yards.
Greer shook his head.
“Going up to where he always used to take Miss Stephanie,” he said to himself as he turned back for the barn.
Climbing higher, horse and rider topped out on a hogback ridge and saw the entrance to the valley in the distance. One would never suspect that a few boulders and a thick stand of pine could hide such a perfect patch of heaven. Riding around a house-sized rock outcropping and ducking low beneath the pine boughs they covered the last few yards to where the trail ended. The basin lay before them with the small pond in its center surrounded by a scattering of ancient pine and spruce. Suddenly a horse whinnied. Elliott, and Dusty, with his ears primed, turned in the direction of the sound. There, on the far side of the water, stood a pure white mare. She flicked her tail and whinnied again. Dusty snorted and stepped a few paces closer. They had seen her several times before, always alone in the valley, and she always seemed to brazenly study Dusty. Elliott laid his hand along the big stallions neck and whispered, “Steady there boy. She’s teasing you, but I think she likes you.”
Dusty snorted again and took another step closer. The mare whinnied, shook her mane, then turned and disappeared into the trees. Dusty moved forward several steps, but Elliott tugged on the reins. Obediently the big horse stood firm. They rode around the pond to where an ancient lightning-struck pine stood and Elliott tied up the horse near some sweet grass. Elliott, as he always did, leaned back against the trunk of a fallen tree and a half buried granite boulder in the cool shadows and watched the rays of the setting sun dance across the water. A cool breeze came down the mountains and dragon flies darted and dashed across the still water of the pond. As Elliott closed his eyes he murmured, “Such a beautiful land.”
After Elliott returned Dusty to the barn he walked slowly back to the ranch house. As old as the big horse was he still had heart. He could run for miles and had worn Elliott out. He was more tired than he could remember being in a long time. He switched on the Hi-Def big screen in the den. He clicked through some of the news channels and they were all covering the same thing; the simultaneous massive escape of prisoners. CNN was calling it ‘The Great Escape II’ and many commentators were speculating as to who was behind it and what the purpose might be of such a concerted effort. FOX News was sure it was a terrorist plot. One PBS station reported forty former prisoners had been recaptured and the spike in crime which had been anticipated had so far failed to materialize.
Elliott sipped his scotch and rubbed his eyes. Reaching over he picked up the phone and called his attorney.
“Robert, it’s time to start phase two.”
“Yes sir. The writers have been itching to start.”
“Good, I’ll talk to you in the morning.”
Elliott rose, padded to the bedroom, changed into his bed clothes, brushed his teeth, took six Advil and went to bed.
Chapter Thirteen
The proper authorities were approached by Robert Dale, Elliott’s lead attorney. An agreement in principal was reached and a news conference was hastily called. A team of writers, well paid by one of Elliott’s closely held corporations, submitted articles to TIME Magazine, People Magazine, Newsweek and a host of other weekly standards. Bloggers took to the Internet and other writers submitted editorial pieces to major newspapers across the nation and the Associated Press. They all carried the same message. The escapees were being offered amnesty. If they turned
Greer shook his head.
“Going up to where he always used to take Miss Stephanie,” he said to himself as he turned back for the barn.
Climbing higher, horse and rider topped out on a hogback ridge and saw the entrance to the valley in the distance. One would never suspect that a few boulders and a thick stand of pine could hide such a perfect patch of heaven. Riding around a house-sized rock outcropping and ducking low beneath the pine boughs they covered the last few yards to where the trail ended. The basin lay before them with the small pond in its center surrounded by a scattering of ancient pine and spruce. Suddenly a horse whinnied. Elliott, and Dusty, with his ears primed, turned in the direction of the sound. There, on the far side of the water, stood a pure white mare. She flicked her tail and whinnied again. Dusty snorted and stepped a few paces closer. They had seen her several times before, always alone in the valley, and she always seemed to brazenly study Dusty. Elliott laid his hand along the big stallions neck and whispered, “Steady there boy. She’s teasing you, but I think she likes you.”
Dusty snorted again and took another step closer. The mare whinnied, shook her mane, then turned and disappeared into the trees. Dusty moved forward several steps, but Elliott tugged on the reins. Obediently the big horse stood firm. They rode around the pond to where an ancient lightning-struck pine stood and Elliott tied up the horse near some sweet grass. Elliott, as he always did, leaned back against the trunk of a fallen tree and a half buried granite boulder in the cool shadows and watched the rays of the setting sun dance across the water. A cool breeze came down the mountains and dragon flies darted and dashed across the still water of the pond. As Elliott closed his eyes he murmured, “Such a beautiful land.”
After Elliott returned Dusty to the barn he walked slowly back to the ranch house. As old as the big horse was he still had heart. He could run for miles and had worn Elliott out. He was more tired than he could remember being in a long time. He switched on the Hi-Def big screen in the den. He clicked through some of the news channels and they were all covering the same thing; the simultaneous massive escape of prisoners. CNN was calling it ‘The Great Escape II’ and many commentators were speculating as to who was behind it and what the purpose might be of such a concerted effort. FOX News was sure it was a terrorist plot. One PBS station reported forty former prisoners had been recaptured and the spike in crime which had been anticipated had so far failed to materialize.
Elliott sipped his scotch and rubbed his eyes. Reaching over he picked up the phone and called his attorney.
“Robert, it’s time to start phase two.”
“Yes sir. The writers have been itching to start.”
“Good, I’ll talk to you in the morning.”
Elliott rose, padded to the bedroom, changed into his bed clothes, brushed his teeth, took six Advil and went to bed.
Chapter Thirteen
The proper authorities were approached by Robert Dale, Elliott’s lead attorney. An agreement in principal was reached and a news conference was hastily called. A team of writers, well paid by one of Elliott’s closely held corporations, submitted articles to TIME Magazine, People Magazine, Newsweek and a host of other weekly standards. Bloggers took to the Internet and other writers submitted editorial pieces to major newspapers across the nation and the Associated Press. They all carried the same message. The escapees were being offered amnesty. If they turned
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