Dean Koontz - Winter Moon

Instead of returning the way they had come, they angled across the sloping yard toward the stable, which stood on more level land to the south of the main house. Toby ran ahead, arms out at his sides, making a brrrrrrrrrrr noise with his lips, pretending to be an airplane… Heather glanced back at the caretaker's bungalow a couple of times, and at the woods on both sides of it. She had a peculiar tingly feeling on the back of her neck.

"Pretty cold for the beginning of November," Jack said. The attorney laughed.

"This isn't southern California, I'm afraid. Actually, it's been a mild day.

Temperature's probably going to drop well below freezing tonight."

"You get much snow up here?"

"Does hell get many sinners?"

"When can we expect the first snow-before Christmas?"

"Way before Christmas, Jack. If we had a big storm tomorrow, nobody'd think it was an early season."

"That's why we got the Explorer," Heather said. "Four-wheel drive.

That should get us around all winter, shouldn't it?"

"Mostly, yeah," Paul said, pulling down on the brim of his hat, which he had pushed up earlier to scratch his forehead.

Toby had reached the stable. Short legs pumping, he vanished around the side before Heather could call out to him to wait. Paul said, "But every winter there's one or two times where you're going to be snowbound a day or three, drifts half over the house sometimes."

"Snowbound? Half over the house?" Jack said, sounding a little like a kid himself. "Really?"

"Get one of those blizzards coming down out of the Rockies, it can drop two or three feet of snow in twenty-four hours. Winds like to peel your skin off. County crews can't keep the roads open all at once.

You have chains for that Explorer?"

"A couple of sets," Jack said.

Heather walked faster toward the stable, hoping the men would pick up their pace to accompany her, which they did. Toby was still out of sight. "What you should also get," Paul told them, "soon as you can, is a good plow for the front of it.

Even if county crews get the roads open, you have half a mile of private lane to take care of."

If the boy was just "flying" around the stable, with his arms spread like wings, he should have reappeared — by now. "Lex Parker's garage,"

Paul continued, "in town, can fit your truck with the armatures, attach the plow, hydraulic arms to raise and lower it, a real fine rig. Just.- leave it on all winter, remove it in the spring, and you'll be ready for however much butt kicking Mother Nature has in store for us."

No sign of Toby. Heather's heart was pounding again. The sun was about to set.

If Toby… if he got lost or… or something… they would have a harder time finding him at night. She restrained herself from breaking into a run. "Now, last winter," Paul continued smoothly, unaware of her trepidation, "was on the dry side, which probably means we're going to take a shellacking this year."

As they reached the stable and as Heather was about to cry out for Toby, he reappeared. He was no longer playing airplane. He sprinted to her side through the unmown grass, grinning and excited. "Mom, this place is neat, really neat.

Maybe I can really have a pony, huh?"

"Maybe," Heather said, swallowing hard before she could get the word out. "Don't go running off like that, okay?"

"Why not?"

"Just don't."

"Sure, okay," Toby said. He was a good boy.

She glanced back toward the caretaker's house and the wilderness beyond. Perched on the jagged peaks of the mountains, the sun seemed to quiver like a raw egg yolk just before dissolving around the tines of a prodding fork. The highest pinnacles of rock were gray and black and pink in the fiery light of day's end.

Miles of serried forests shelved down to the fieldstone bungalow. All was still and peaceful. The stable was a single-story fieldstone building with a slate roof. The long side walls had no exterior stall doors, only small windows high under the eaves. There was a white barn door on the end, which rolled open easily when Paul tried it, and the electric lights came on with the first flip of a switch. "As you can see," the attorney said as he led them inside, "it was every inch a gentleman's ranch, not a spread that had to show a profit in any way."

Beyond the concrete threshold, which was flush with the ground, the stable floor was composed of soft, tamped earth, as pale as sand. Five empty stalls with half-doors stood to each side of the wide center promenade, more spacious than ordinary barn stalls. On the twelve-inch wooden posts between stalls were castbronze sconces that threw amber light toward both the ceiling and the floor, they were needed because the high-set windows were too small-each about eight inches high by eighteen long-to admit much sunlight even at high noon. "Stan Quartermass kept this place heated in winter, cooled in the summer,"

Paul Youngblood said. He pointed to vent grilles set in the suspended tongue-and-groove ceiling. "Seldom smelled like a stable, either, because he vented it continuously, pumped fresh air in. And all the ductwork is heavily insulated, so the sound of the fans is too low to.bother horses."

On the left, beyond the final stall, was a large tackroom, where saddles, bridles, and other equipment had been kept. It was empty except for a built-in sink as — long and deep as a trough. To the right, opposite the tackroom, were top-access bins where oats, apples, and other feed had been stored, but they were now all empty as well.

On the wall near the bins, several tools were racked business end up: a pitchfork, two shovels, and a rake.

"Smoke alarm," Paul said, pointing to a device attached to the header above the big door that was opposite the one by which they had entered.

"Wired into the electrical system. You can't make the mistake of letting batteries go dead. It sounds in the house, so Stan wouldn't have to worry about not hearing it."

"The guy sure loved his horses," Jack said. "Oh, he sure did, and he had more Hollywood money than he knew what to do with. After Stan died, Ed took special pains to be sure the people who bought all the animals would treat them well.

Stan was a nice man. Seemed only right." the lights. "Name's Lester Steer, and he owns the Main itreet Diner in town."

"He's a man!"

"Well, of course he's a man," Paul said, rolling the door shut.

"Never said he wasn't." The attorney winked at Heather, and she realized how much she had come to like him in such a short time. "Oh, you're tricky," Toby told Paul. "Dad, he's tricky"

"Not me," Paul said. "I only told you the truth, Scout. You tricked yourself." — "Paul is an attorney, son," Jack said.

"You've always of to be careful of attorneys, or you'll end up with no ponies or cows." Paul laughed. "Listen to your dad. He's wise. Very wise."

Only an orange rind of sun remained in view, and in seconds, the irregular blade of mountain peaks peeled it away. Shadows spread toward one another. The somber twilight, all deep blues and funereal purples, hinted at "I could have ten ponies," Toby said. "Wrong,"

Heather said. "Whatever business we decide to get into, it won't be a manure factory."

"Well, I just mean, there's room," the boy said. "A dog, ten ponies,"

Jack said. "You're turning into a real farm boy.

What's next? Chickens?"."A cow," Toby said. "I been thinking what you said about cows, and you talked me into it."

"Wiseass," Jack said, taking a playful swipe at the boy. Dodging successfully, laughing, Toby said, "Like father, like son.

Mr. Youngblood, did you know my dad says cows can do any tricks dogs can do-roll over and play dead and all that?"

"Well," the attorney replied, leading them back through the stable toward the door by which they'd entered, "I know a steer that can walk on his hind feet."