enraptured by the sprawl of fields and forests. Before either Jack or
Heather could answer him, he posed the question that he no doubt had
been wanting to ask for weeks: 'Can I have a dog?'
'Just a dog?' Jack asked. 'Huh?'
'With this much land, you could have a pet cow.' Toby laughed. 'Cows
aren't pets.'
'You're wrong,' Jack said, striving for a serious tone. 'They're
darned good pets.'
'Cows!' Toby said incredulously. 'No, really. You can teach a cow to
fetch, roll over, beg for its dinner, shake hands, all the usual dog
stuff-- plus they make milk for your breakfast cereal.'
'You're putting me on. Mom, is he serious?'
'The only problem is,' Heather said, 'you might get a cow that likes to
chase cars--in which case it can do a lot more damage than a dog.'
'That's silly,' the boy said, and giggled. 'Not if you're in the car
being chased,' Heather assured him. 'Then it's terrifying,' Jack
agreed. 'I'll stick with a dog.'
'Well, if that's what you want,' Jack said. 'You mean it? I can have
a dog?' Heather said, 'I don't see why not.' Toby whooped with
delight.
The private lane led to the main residence, which overlooked a meadow
of golden-brown grass. In the last hour of its journey toward the
western mountains, the sun backlit the property, and the house cast a
long purple shadow. They parked in that shade behind Paul Youngblood's
Bronco.
They began their tour in the basement. Although windowless and
entirely beneath ground level, it was cold. The first room contained a
washer, a dryer, a double sink, and a set of pine cabinets. The
corners of the ceiling were enlivened by the architecture of spiders
and a few cocooning moths. In the second room stood an electric
forced-air furnace and a water heater. A Japanese-made electric
generator, as large as a washing machine, was also provided. It looked
capable of producing enough power to light a small town.
'Why do we need this?' Jack wondered, indicating the generator. Paul
Youngblood said, 'Bad storm can knock out the public power supply for a
couple of days in some of these rural areas. Since we don't have
natural-gas service, and the price of being supplied by a fuel-oil
company in this territory can be high, we have to rely on electricity
for heating, cooking, everything. It goes out, we have fireplaces, but
that's not ideal. And Stan Quartermass was a man who never wanted to
be without the comforts of civilization.'
'But this is a monster,' Jack said, patting the dustsheathed
generator.
'Supplies the main house, caretaker's house, and the stables. Doesn't
just provide backup power to run a few lights, either. As long as
you've got gasoline, you can go on living with all the amenities, just
as if you were still on public power.'
'Might be fun to rough it a couple of days now and then,' Jack
suggested. The attorney frowned and shook his head. 'Not when the
