Encounter on Snowy Mountain – Part 2

ENCOUNTER ON SNOWY MOUNTAIN

Part 2

A Short Story By Golden Keyes Parsons 

Mike pushed open the door and motioned for Sonny to follow him in. “You can take your boots off here—and leave them on that rug.” He chuckled. “My wife’s kinda particular about that.” A fire was dying down in the fireplace, and the fragrance of a leftover meal lingered in the room.

“Certainly.” Sonny sat on the bench beside the door and pulled off his boots. “It shore feels good in here.” His toes poked through the ends of the socks, and the heels were threadbare.

Mike made a mental note. “Hey, I’ve got socks with holes in them, too. Seems like it happens all of a sudden.” He pointed down the hall. “There’s the bathroom, and the guest room is next to it. Make yourself at home, and I’ll be right back.”

Sonny looked in the direction Mike pointed, then shuffled into the bathroom, and shut the door. “Who in the world is that?” Kim was standing in the archway between the kitchen and the dining room in her robe. “He looks scary.”

“Shhh.” Mike shooed Kim to their bedroom. “I don’t know who he is, but he’s harmless.”

“How do you know he’s harmless?” Her voice rose. She was never thrilled over his habit of picking up hitchhikers, but to bring a complete stranger into their home for the night? “Another hitchhiker? You’ve gone too far this time. He could be an axe murderer!”

“He wasn’t a hitchhiker, and I didn’t see any axe.” Mike laughed at his conservative wife. “But, he was freezing in the snow. I found him in the parking lot of the church. I couldn’t leave him there.” Mike took his coat off and threw it on the bed. “Have you ever heard of a little community around here by the name of Virginia City?”

“No, why?”

“That’s where he said he was going, and he is sure it’s right over the pass. He says he’s from Virginia City. If he hadn’t been with me this evening, I might have … I came real close to going over the side of the mountain.”

“What?” Kim’s voice rose in alarm. “What happened?”

Mike told her about sliding to the edge of the cliff, the oncoming car and Sonny’s prayer. “I don’t know how he did it, but when he raised his hand, the truck stopped.” Mike shrugged his shoulders. “Probably coincidence. You stay in back here in our bedroom. I’ll take care of our guest.”

“I’m going to stay back there alright, and I’m going to get the pistol out of the closet—and pray.”

“In what order?” Mike laughed at his wife.

Kim grumbled. “I left a dinner plate in the microwave for you.”

Mike divided it and put half onto a paper plate. He walked to the opposite side of the house to the guestroom.

“Here’s a bite to eat.” He turned down the sheets on the bed. “Please, help yourself to anything you need.” The stranger still wore his coat.

“Would you like some pajamas or anything?”

“No, thank you. I don’t need a thing. I’ll be fine.”

“I have to leave early in the morning. Do you need an alarm?”

“I’ll wake up without one.”

Mike excused himself and closed the door. “See you in the morning.”

Mike woke up early. He rummaged around in his sock drawer and chose two pair of heavy socks. Kim was still asleep, so he fixed a piece of toast and a cup of coffee, put it on a tray along with the socks and walked down the hall to the guestroom. He found the door ajar, and Sonny standing in the middle of the room, with his coat on. Pieces of the tattered lining of the coat floated to the floor. The bed remained neat and unslept in; the dinner on the paper plate untouched on the nightstand.

Mike didn’t mention condition of the bed. “I found a couple pair of socks for you.” He set the toast and coffee down and picked up the plate of food from the night before. “Weren’t hungry?”

“No, sir. Thank you for the socks.” Sonny stuffed them into his coat pockets.

An uneasy silence settled in the room. “Well, we’ll leave in about twenty minutes.”

Sonny waited for him in the foyer, downing his coffee. “Mighty fine coffee. I sure do thank you.” He set the empty cup down on the credenza in the entry way.

The two men stepped out into the dazzling white snow from the storm the night before. The snowfall had ceased. Mike backed the car out of the garage as Sonny waited for him in the driveway. Mike drove the stranger to the south side of town. “I suggest you head south. As soon as you get out of the higher elevation, it’ll be warmer.”

“Thank you kindly.”

“Perhaps you can catch a ride.”

“Yessir.”

“I pray God’s blessings on you, my friend.”

“I thank you, sir, for your hospitality.” He wrapped the dirty muffler around his head before he opened the door and stepped out. The peculiar man thrust his hands in his pockets and started walking.

Mike turned his truck around and headed back north. He looked in the rear view mirror at the young man as he shuffled along the shoulder of the road, his shoulders hunched, the fringed edge of his muffler whipping in the wind. Mike stopped by his house before heading up the mountain to the church. The smoky odor of bacon greeted him as he stamped into the house. He noticed the coffee cup was gone from the credenza.

Kim turned, cooking fork held above the sizzling skillet. “What do you think that was all about?”

“I have no idea.”

“I checked the guest room and the bath—nothing had been used. No water splashes in the sink; no towels used. The bed had not been slept in. The only evidence of his being here are these pieces of cloth.” She held up a piece of the faded, red, tattered lining. “Little bits of this were all over the carpet. Do you suppose he just slept on the floor?”

Mike shrugged his shoulders. “I dunno. He didn’t eat anything either.” He looked in the sink and then the dishwasher. “Did you get his coffee cup from the credenza?”

“What cup?”

“The coffee cup I took to him this morning.”

“I didn’t see any cup.”

Mike shook his head. “Well, he may not have eaten anything, but, I’m going to—how about some breakfast?”

********

Mike put the encounter with the strange visitor out of his mind, as he tackled the daily challenges of being a pastor in a small community. The weeks went by, and, occasionally, thoughts of Sonny would flit through Mike’s head.

The streets in town slowly evolved into the spring sludge of mud. Early blossoms of lilac bushes around town heralded the slow approach of warmer weather. A luxurious border of the purple blooms surrounded the city library every year like a wreath. Mike rolled down the windows of his truck as he drove by and inhaled the sultry fragrance. He braked. The library! He turned into the empty parking lot.

“Hello, Mike. What are you doing here? Can I help you with something?” The cheery town librarian, her salt-and-pepper hair piled on top of her head in a loose bun, glanced up from her computer.

“Yeah, Sally. I need a book on the history of this area. What would you recommend?”

“We have a whole section in the back room.” She pulled herself down off her stool. “Let me show you.” She escorted Mike through a narrow hall and indicated a wall full of history books.

“I need something on this immediate area—maybe from the pass to the bottom of the mountain.”

“That would be the first half of the third shelf.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“Holler if you need anything. Most of these can’t be checked out. You’ll have to look through them here—vintage books, you know.” Sally smiled and left Mike alone in the quiet chamber.

Mike began to remove the books, one by one, and stack them on the table. Dust floated through the air. He sneezed. Not much traffic in this part of the library.

He worked through one stack not finding anything that mentioned a Virginia City. About a third of the way through the second stack, his eye stopped on a chapter entitled “Small Mining Towns and Their Demise” in a book on mining towns that sprang up during the gold rush in the 1800’s. He couldn’t believe his eyes. Virginia City was the last one listed. He began to read.

One of the least known mining towns in the area was a little community by the name of Virginia City, east of the Old Pass, snuggled up against the side of Silver Hill. The only indication that a town ever existed there are two or three toppled chimneys. Vandals ransacked and destroyed most of the buildings. At one time the village consisted of a general store (where trappers and local Indians bartered), a saloon and a dozen or so cabins. The mining claim in Virginia City belonged to a large extended family, by the name of Bullard, who were the sole occupants. A stranger came into town and went to work in the mines for the patriarch of the family, John Bullard. The relationships in the family were rumored to be incestuous, with intermarriages and jealousies abounding, erupting in fights every Saturday night at the saloon. The stranger who had gone to work in the mine, fell in love with John Bullard’s youngest daughter, Virginia, for whom the village had been named, and vowed to take her away from the troubled community. However, before he could do so, a cousin, who had less than honorable intentions toward the damsel, challenged the stranger to a duel over the hand of the daughter. The stranger killed the cousin, and the town erupted in a gun fight and many of the Bullards were killed. The stranger captured Virginia from her cabin and started down the road from Silver Hill on horseback, when they were overtaken by two of her brothers on the road over the Old Pass. When the two brothers sighted the runaways, they reported that the stranger raised his hand, as if he wanted to negotiate with them. They gave him no chance to do so. They killed the stranger and left him beside the road, but not before Virginia got in the way of a bullet. She died before they could get her back to Virginia City. It is whispered among the locals that the stranger returns periodically, trying to get back to Virginia City to find his lost love. Sightings report that he usually miraculously prevents an accident of some kind by simply raising his hand. The man went by the name of Sonny Jordan.

Mike’s hand began to tremble as he closed the reference book and stared out the window toward the pass.

Author’s note: This short story is based on a true account.

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