Glenn Beck - The Eye of Moloch

“Thank you.”

“I’ll send Tyler by to see you when you’ve had time to take care of your necessities.” She retrieved her basket and started for the door. “He’s my son, and he’ll walk you around the place a bit, just so you can get your legs underneath you again.”

Hollis was so absorbed in the magnificent view of the grounds beyond the window that he managed only a slow, inadequate nod in answer to her question. “Thank you,” he heard himself repeat after a while longer, though when he glanced her way he found she’d already slipped out by then to leave him to his thoughts.

Chapter 10

Though his sleep had been troubled, it had served its purpose. After such a lengthy day of rest, in fact, Hollis felt he might never need another.

When the escort Cathy Merrick had offered failed to arrive in due time he decided to venture out on his own.

The hallway was spacious and meticulously rustic, all hardwoods and polish with native art hung here and there and simple Shaker furnishings. An old grandfather clock stood watch in a narrow alcove. Next to the clock was an oil painting of some stern pioneer who’d survived Red Cloud’s War only to be reluctantly captured in canvas and hung up in a gilded frame.

At the far end of the hall the space opened out into a soaring log-framed atrium with several cozy sitting areas, well-stocked bookshelves, and a massive fieldstone fireplace that easily spanned twelve feet from end to end. This all engendered a homespun, welcoming atmosphere that nevertheless carried more the feel of a fine country hotel than a private residence.

He found Molly’s suite near the corner. The door had been left half open; she was seated at a mirrored vanity near the far wall, facing away, wrapped in a woolly plaid dressing gown. Two older women attended to her, one fixing her hair in a braided ponytail while the other held her hands and finessed a long-neglected manicure. They didn’t notice him as they fussed and smiled and spoke among themselves, and he didn’t interrupt. For the moment he knew all he needed to; she was fine.

When Hollis looked to the atrium again he saw a young man of maybe sixteen years, sitting off alone in the corner of the large space. He was slumped down in a reclining posture, feet up on the burl-oak slab of a coffee table, completely absorbed in the content of an animated screen in his hands. On the assumption that this was the boy assigned to be his guide, he walked over and sat nearby.

“Are you Tyler?”

“Hold on.”

The big-screen cell phone the boy was interacting with was more visible from this distance. He was playing a game, it appeared, dragging and tapping with a finger to slingshot cartoon birds toward a series of breakable structures.

Hollis watched and waited through another similar level or two, and then, seeing no intent in the boy to stop what he was doing, he got up to leave. “I don’t mean to be a bother,” he said. “I can show myself around.”

“Jesus, just a second,” the boy huffed. “I’ll be right with you, okay?” He sighed and went through a quick procedure to save his progress and put the device into standby. “She told me to give you the tour, so I’d better give you the tour. I really don’t need my mom any further up my ass today.”

The impulse to apply a swift discipline to another person’s offspring had rarely been stronger, but for a couple of weak reasons Hollis simply took a deep, cleansing breath and put it aside. Despite the boy’s offhanded discourtesy to his absent mother, Hollis was reluctant to spoil his still-sunny mood by calling out the offense. Also, he was a guest, and it might test the bounds of hospitality to start a conversation that could easily end in a headlock. So he let it pass and only followed as the boy tucked away his phone and walked on ahead.

“If you’re sure it’s not too much trouble for you,” Hollis said.

“Don’t get too excited, bro,” Tyler replied. “There’s not that much to see.”

• • •

The most expensive home in America is not in New York, or Honolulu, or Beverly Hills, but in Wyoming. This wasn’t that home, Tyler was quick to note, but the once-humble Merrick ranch was regularly in and out of the top ten whenever such lists were compiled.

As they walked, through a series of one-word answers and bored descriptions from his guide Hollis was gradually able to glean a better understanding of the place and the people who lived there.

The boy’s ancestors had made their substantial fortune in cattle, mineral rights, and various speculations. Since frontier times no part of the estate had ever left the family’s hands. Today the spread was best known as an upscale dude ranch and a twelve-thousand-acre training facility for working horses and their riders. The roster of regular clients included people of all stripes, from reclusive billionaires and celebrities to national rodeo stars. There was also a long waiting list of normal-Joe vacationers who might save up for years in order to flee their teeming cities for a few precious weeks of a saner, simpler life.

These days the lion’s share of any profits quietly went toward charitable endeavors. Throughout the summer the ranch played host to a number of youth retreats from service groups, and no child’s request from the Make-A-Wish Foundation had ever been denied.

The guest annex where Hollis and the other new arrivals were staying was of relatively new construction. On the private side of the atrium the original house had been built around, added to, and augmented with modern conveniences. Most of the growing lineage of the Merrick family made their home in those quarters, and they all made their living off the land. Tyler’s great-grandmother, in fact, still stayed in the rooms she’d shared with her late husband back when this place was still just a small, hand-built outpost in the heart of a lot of rugged, untamed land.

The ranch was normally closed to guests during the harsh winter season, and without much public explanation it had remained closed well beyond that time this year.

This is where Tyler Merrick’s understanding of the recent goings-on became sketchy and incomplete. Whatever was currently happening, the details were being guarded and shared on a need-to-know basis, and evidently there was a lot he didn’t need to know. Still, he seemed to have a sense that something slightly unlawful might be afoot this week. While that clearly didn’t trouble his morals he seemed very curious as to the clandestine nature of these latest guests.

It turned out that Tyler was new to these surroundings himself. His parents had finally split up after a long separation and sold their house in Albuquerque as the assets were divided. His mother, Cathy, had left her life as a successful graphic artist, moved back to her childhood home, reclaimed her maiden name for them both, and dragged her son along into this socially barren wilderness to start all over again.

While the boy had met these relatives over the years he’d never imagined he’d one day be living with them. Though he didn’t say so, despite any warm welcomes it would be hard for even a well-adjusted teenager in such a spot to feel like anything but an outsider.

The tour concluded at a small wooden pier on the lakefront, and they went to the end and sat down on its edge to rest. Having now walked a bit of the grounds, as far as Hollis could see it was all as picturesque as it had seemed through his window. But more striking than the view itself was how these surroundings made him feel. For the first time in months he found he could look at the horizon with no dread of what might soon be storming over it.