Tom heard the faint sound of motorcycles in the distance. “What the hell was that?”
Granny B tersely replied, “We’re only two miles from Dead Indian Road. That must be your friend, Carlos and his gang roaring up the canyon.”
Tom scowled, and then his nostrils flared. “How darned close is this to the highway?”
Granny B sat in the saddle and stared at Tom. Her jaw was clenched, and then she said, “Clean your darned ears out. I just said we’re about two miles from the road.”
Tom knew he’d pissed her off. He rubbed his forehead. “I meant to ask – can someone get from the road to the cabin quickly?”
“No! There’s a quarry about a mile southwest of the cabin, but they could only get to it on foot or maybe a horse. The walls of the draw are steep and rocky. A horse would have a hard time, and a person would have to have a danged good reason to get to the cabin before they’d even try. Above the cabin is the thick brush and woods. I don’t think anyone has been here since I was last here, and that’s been a coon’s age.”
Tom wondered. “Can we see Dead Indian Road or any of Ashland from up here?”
Granny B processed the question. “Yes, but only small parts of Dead Indian Road. Remember, it’s at the bottom of a small canyon running down from the mountains. You can’t see to the bottom to see cars or people in most places. Ashland is a different matter. A lot of it can be seen from several of the hills above the cabin.”
Tom thought, Now, where do I find a powerful telescope?
*
Chapter 13
Granny B’s land – Granny B’s cabin in the hills below the cave.
The canyon was only a quarter-mile across at its widest point. The southwest side was steep, while the northeast side had a gentle slope down to the bottom. A stream wandered down from the mountains above. The fast flowing water had been slowed down over the years by vast landslides of rock and gravel from above, creating numerous small pools, which helped form small but gorgeous waterfalls.
The area around Granny B’s rustic cabin was the only level area in the entire canyon. Thousands of years ago, an enormous landslide had filled the gorge's bottom, creating a level spot a quarter-mile wide by about the same distance long. Two French trappers had found the canyon first and built a lean-to against a steep southeast cliff. They hadn’t found enough beaver in the small pools to make it worth staying in the area. However, while drunk at the trading post, one of them had mentioned the hills' lovely valley. A broke settler had heard the men and had taken his family into the mountains to hide from his many creditors. His family had built the cabin that now belonged to Granny B.
The cabin started as a sizeable one-room home back in the late 1800s. Another two bedrooms and a kitchen were added before the turn of the century. The kitchen was beside but separate from the main house with a dogtrot in between. The giant kettle, pots, and pans still graced the area around the massive stone fireplace. The floor was made from stone, and there were waist-high walls with one opening facing the small spring in the front of the home. The back of the cabin hugged the hillside and looked like it was part of the rocky face.
Rick started to walk up to the front door, but Tom shouted, “No! Stop! Only go to the cabin from along the rock face. You won’t leave footprints.”
Kate gazed at the door leaning inward and the shutter lying on the ground. “I hope the cave is in better shape.”
They walked onto the floor of the dogtrot, and Granny B was happy. “No one’s been here. There are the ashes I cooked with still in the fireplace, and look at the pine straw by the entrance to the cabin. No one has disturbed it. We can stay here if needed.”
Tom observed the wind had been blowing away from Ashland and up into the hills. “Does the wind always blow that direction?”
Granny B chuckled. “No, just wait a minute, and it’ll change direction. The wind swirls up this small canyon and dissipates the smoke. You’d have to have a huge fire for a column of smoke to be detected from Ashland. A small cook fire would never be noticed.”
Tom conceded that point. “We can cook here and avoid smoking up the cave. Is there anything of use in the cabin? If there’s not much going on here, let’s go to the cave.”
Granny B said, “There’s a hidden cellar stocked with older survival food. It should still be good.”
Tom thought, How can there be a cellar in this rock? He decided to ask his grandmother in private. He also questioned why she didn’t want to go into the cabin.
Granny B’s land – The cave
They only traveled a short distance back up the draw until Granny B stopped. “Look around and see if you can find the mouth of the cave.”
They stared at everything within a hundred feet and found nothing. Tom pointed at a thick stand of trees. “It’s in that copse of trees.”
Granny B responded. “What the heck is a copse?”
“A bunch of trees.”
“Son, how in tarnation did you know it was there?”
Tom exclaimed, “It had to be there because it has the best cover to hide an opening.”
“Well, smarty pants, it’s not there. It’s over here,” she said, and then rode her horse up into the trees and rocks and disappeared. A few seconds later, she waved at them. “Come on in. Be careful. The footing is
