Between her and the Silver Cloud Inn was a prehistoric landscape, dozens of dinosaurs frozen on the snowfield. She limped onward, carrying her own history. Around her stood fourteen-foot-tall thunder lizards and meat eaters, their sculpted heads white with snow and bearded with icicles, snow wedged into the cracks of their skins. The wind roared like a great monstrous voice, a memory of dinosaur song, and it almost knocked Mary to her knees amid the beasts.
Headlights hit her. An enclosed vehicle on treads was coming toward her, snow whirling up in its wake. When it reached her, a man in a cowboy hat and a long brown coat got out and grasped her shoulder, guiding her around to the passenger side. 'Anybody else behind you?' he shouted into her ear, and she shook her head.
When they were inside the snow buggy, the heater on full blast, the man picked up a CB radio's microphone and said, 'Found the new arrivals, Jody. Takin' 'em in.'
'That's a big ten-four,' a man's voice answered through crackling static. Mary figured it was one of the pigs down on I-80. Then the cowboy turned the buggy around and started driving toward the inn, and he said, 'Get you good and warm in just a few minutes, ma'am.'
The Silver Cloud Inn was made of bleached stones and had a huge pair of antlers over the front door. The cowboy pulled the buggy up to the steps, and Mary got out with Drummer pressed against her. Then the cowboy came around and started to take her shoulder bag, but Mary pulled back and said, 'I've got it,' and he opened the inn's door for her. Inside, there was a large lobby with oak beams and a stone fireplace that a car could have parked in. The fire was popping sparks, the lobby sweet with the smell of woodsmoke and delicious warmth. Twenty or more people of all ages and descriptions were on cots or in sleeping bags around the fireplace, and another dozen or so were talking or playing cards. Their attention was drawn to Mary and the baby for a few seconds, and then they went back to what they were doing.
'Lord, what a night! Storm's a screamer, for sure!' The cowboy took off his hat, revealing thinning white hair and a braided ponytail with a band around it made of multicolored Indian beads. He had a grizzled, heavily lined face and bright blue eyes beneath white brows. 'Rachel, let's get this lady some hot coffee!'
A gray-haired, plump Indian woman in a red sweater and bluejeans began to draw coffee from a metal dispenser into a plastic cup. On the table beside the coffeemaker were a few sandwiches, some cheese, fruit, and slices of poundcake. 'Name's Sam Jiles,' the cowboy said. 'Welcome to the Silver Cloud Inn. I'm sorry you couldn't see it on a better day.'
'That's all right. I'm glad to be here.'
'Rooms were all gone around seven o'clock. Cots ran out around nine, but we might have a sleepin' bag left. You travelin' alone with your baby?'
'Yes. Going to California.' She felt him waiting for more. 'To meet my husband,' she added.
'Bad night to be on the road, I say.' Jiles walked to the registration desk, where another CB radio was set up. 'Excuse me just a minute.' He picked up the mike. 'Silver Cloud to Big Smokey, come on back, Smokey.' The static crackled and hissed, and the pig's voice answered, 'Big Smokey. You got an ear, Silver Cloud.'
Rachel brought Mary the coffee, and she looked at Drummer in the parka's folds. 'Oh, that's a new one!' she said, her eyes large and dark brown. 'Boy or girl?'
'Boy.'
'What's his name?'
'Brought 'em in real fine, Jody,' Sam Jiles was saying over the radio. 'You fellas want me to bring you down some eats?'
'I hear you talkin', Sam. We're stuck here till I-80's open.'
'Okay, bring you down some grub and coffee pronto.'
'Does he have a name yet?'
Mary blinked, looking into the Indian woman's eyes. What was going through her head was the thought that she was trapped with strangers at her back and two pigs guarding the only way out. 'David,' she said, and the name was foul in her mouth, but Drummer was his real and secret name, not to be shared with everyone.
'That's a nice, strong name. I'm Rachel Jiles.'
'I'm… Mary Brown.' It had come from the color of the woman's eyes.
'We have some food left.' Rachel motioned toward the table. 'Ham and cheese sandwiches. Some beef stew there, too.' She nodded at bowls and a clay pot. 'Help yourself.'
'Thanks, I will.' Mary limped over to the table, and Rachel stayed with her.
'Did you hurt your leg?' Rachel asked.
'No, it's an old injury. Broken ankle didn't heal right.' Drummer began to cry at that moment, as if shouting to the world that Mary Terror was lying. She rocked him and cooed to him, but his crying soared up and up with increasing power. Rachel suddenly held out her stocky arms and said, 'I've had three boys. Maybe I can try it?'
What would it hurt? Besides, the pain in Mary's leg was so bad it was sapping her strength. She handed Drummer over and fed herself while Rachel rocked him and sang softly in a language Mary didn't understand. Drummer's crying began to quiet, his head cocked to one side as if listening to the woman's singing. In about two minutes he had ceased crying altogether, and Rachel sang and smiled, her round face almost radiant with care for a stranger's child.
Sam Jiles made food packages for the two troopers, loading up sandwiches, fruit, and cake into two sacks and adding cups and a thermos of coffee. He asked one of the men to go with him in the tracked snow buggy, and he kissed Rachel on the cheek and said he'd be back quicker than a skillet sizzles grease. Then he and his companion left the Silver Cloud, a gust of freezing wind and snow coming through the front door with their departure.
Rachel seemed to enjoy cradling Drummer, so Mary let her hold the baby while she ate and drank her fill. She limped over to the fireplace to warm herself, threading a path through the other people, and she took off her gloves and offered her palms to the flames. Her fever had returned, throbbing with a hot pulse at her temples, and she couldn't stay near the fire very long. She glanced at the faces around her, judging them: predominant in the mix were middle-aged people, but there was a couple who might have been in their sixties and two young couples who had the tanned, fit look of ardent skiers. She moved away from the hearth, back toward where Rachel stood with Drummer, and that was when she felt someone watching her.
Mary looked to her right, and found a young man sitting against the wall, his legs crossed beneath him. He had a thin, hawk-nosed face and sandy-brown hair that spilled down over his shoulders, and he wore black horn- rimmed glasses, faded jeans with patches on the knees, and a dark blue turtleneck sweater. Beside him was a battered army jacket and a rolled-up sleeping bag. He was watching her intently with deep-socketed eyes the color of ashes. His stare didn't waver as she returned it, and then he frowned slightly and began to examine his fingernails.
She didn't like him. He made her nervous. She went back to Rachel and took her child. Rachel said, 'He's sure a good baby! All three of my boys used to holler like screech owls when they were as little as him. How old is he?'
'He was born on…' She didn't know the exact date. 'The third of February,' she said, which was when she'd taken him from the hospital.
'Do you have any other children?'
'No, just Drum -' Mary smiled. 'Just David.' Her gaze skittered back to the young man. He was staring at her again. She felt fever sweat on her cheeks. What was that fucking hippie looking at?
'I'll see if I can find a sleeping bag for you,' Rachel said. 'We always keep a supply on hand for the campers.' She went off across the lobby and through another door, and Mary found a place to sit on the floor away from everyone else.
She kissed Drummer's forehead and crooned softly to him. His skin was cool against her lips. 'Going to California, yes we are. Going to California, Mama and her sweet baby.' She realized with a start that there were two spots of blood, each about the size of a quarter, on the thigh of her jeans. The blood was seeping up through her makeshift bandage. She set Drummer aside, took off her coat, and laid it across her lap.
She looked up, and saw the hippie watching her.
Mary pulled her shoulder bag, with its small Magnum automatic and the.38 from Rocky Road's gun cabinet, against her side.
'He knows.'
