Flash Fiction

Lakeview Man – A New Sheriff in Town

Friday, February 3^rd  

“Are you at the cabin?”

The text appeared unexpectedly on Amanda Sanchez-Clark’s cellphone. The text was from Daniel, but she hadn’t expected to hear from him for another week. He’d been busy training with his new team. It had been almost five months since he’d joined the Wild Hunt and gone back onto active duty with the Army.  Unfortunately, she hadn’t spent much time with him since then. When she saw it was him, her face lit up like a child on Christmas morning.

“Not at the moment,” she sent as her reply. “I can be, though. What’s up?”

“Meet me there by 1700,” he texted, adding a smiley face.

“You’ll be there?” she sent, adding several exclamation points for emphasis.

“Yeah,” he replied. “Can’t talk right now. See you at 1700.”

“Love ya, babe,” she sent, but didn’t get another response.

That didn’t really surprise her, though. He hated texting and rarely did it. She glanced at the time on her phone and saw that her shift was over in fifteen minutes. It was 1345 hours and she was going to have to head to the cabin so she could take a shower before he got there. They hadn’t been together in weeks and the last thing she wanted him to notice was her body armor funk. Also, she wanted to be wearing something more enticing than her uniform.

Finishing up the report she’d been working on, she headed out the door. There wasn’t a time clock that they actually had to punch in and out with. Instead, they called in to dispatch and logged on or off duty by radio number. Slipping into her patrol charger, she fired up the engine and let it start warming up. The air was a bit chilly today, but not bad enough that she felt like getting out her coat. Instead, she let the big Hemi engine idle for a few moments to warm up. Reaching for the radio mic, she brought it to her mouth and keyed up.

“155,” she said.

“Go ahead, 155,” said dispatch.

“Show me off duty and sign me off,” she said.

“Copy, 155,” said dispatch. “Be safe.”

Putting the magnetic clip on the back of the mic against the metal of the center console, she let it go and put on her seatbelt. Checking her mirrors, she backed out of the parking space and headed down the road. The little town of Galena was where the Sherriff’s office and jail was, but she lived outside of Kimberling City in the little cabin that had been built by Clark’s grandfather. She mentally chastised herself for still calling her husband by his last name when she thought of him, but it was a difficult habit to break. Cops rarely used each other’s first names and it felt odd calling him Dan or Daniel. He hated being called Danny.

No, she was just going to have to get used to thinking of him as “Clark” regardless of the fact that she, too, was now a Clark. Despite their marriage, all the people who knew her before still called her Sanchez. Doing a quick mental checklist, she knew they had plenty of alcohol at the cabin but she decided to stop at the grocery story to pick up some steaks and ingredients to cook. Tonight was going to be a special occasion and she wanted to make it something he’d remember.

She’d been so focused on the election coming up on Tuesday, she’d forgotten about almost everything else.  Under most circumstances, the election for Sheriff wouldn’t have been until November, but this was a special election. After what happened last August when the Gugwe creatures had attacked and killed several people in the area, Sheriff Prescott had covered up the truth of what had happened. Even the deaths of two deputies.

As much as that infuriated both her and Clark, they had been sworn to secrecy by the very team that Clark had joined to help hunt monsters like that. Fortunately, an investigative reporter named Noriega had gotten wind of the story and broken it wide open. He exposed the lies and even managed to find photographic as well as physical evidence of the creature’s and their attacks in the area.

She had no idea how he’d found out but she certainly approved. When the public found out Prescott had lied, there had been a recall vote to get him out of office. The recall had been overwhelming and Prescott had to step down. Now there was a special election and on the ballot was a former Missouri Highway Patrol Captain named Rick Bonham who everyone knew was going to be a real hard-ass. The other candidate for Sloan County Sheriff was one Amanda Sanchez-Clark. The newspaper was calling for it to be a very closely contended election.

After a quick stop at a local supermarket, Amanda picked up the food she wanted to grill for tonight’s dinner. It was only a short drive from there back to the cabin. As she drove up the driveway, she felt that familiar knot in her stomach. She felt it each time she came here since the Gugwe attacked them. She knew they were out of the area but she’d also gone to great lengths to protect herself since the incident. For one, she never left the house without the .458 SOCOM rifle that Clark had given her. For another, there were the dogs.

After the incident, Clark had helped her locate the two puppies that they were now happy to have. They were both five month old African Mastiffs, also called Boerboels. They were siblings from the same litter and both males. The breeder said they should both hit two-hundred pounds, since they came from large lineage. They had planned originally to get Caucasian Ovcharkas or Caucasian Shepherds, but they couldn’t find a breeder with any available. When they went to look at the two Boerboels, she’d fallen in love.

After some deliberation, they’d settled on naming them Sam and Dean after characters who were brothers in one of her favorite television shows. Sam was a dark brindle color and Dean was a lighter fawn color. They had been in obedience training and had already begun formal training with Meadows from Kimberling City Police. They seemed to love training and playing with his police dog, Rocco. At five months old, they were already nearly as big as the full-grown German shepherd. They took to the training like they’d been born for it.

They were in their dog run in the front yard while she was at work. They had shelter, food and water in there, but they stayed in the house with her when she was home. She couldn’t take them to work at the moment, but that would change if she won the election. She was going to make sure of that.

Meadows had a key to the dog run and came out every day to work with them. When she was there, schedule permitting, she worked with them too. The dogs were so eager to learn and very smart, she knew that they were going to do well. They already were able to be trusted off-leash and would listen to verbal commands without having to restrain them. However, when it came to defending her, they could be downright scary. She was eager to see how that would progress as they grew.

Grabbing the grocery bags and her rifle, she went over to the dog run. They were both excited to see her and she could tell from their demeanor that no predators were in the area. Unlocking the cage, she let them out into the yard and they ran around her happy to have “mom” home for the night.

‘Let’s go, boys,” she said, heading for the house.

They followed along happily, running inside as soon as she opened the door. Chuckling, she followed them in and got them both a treat. While they munched happily away, she got out a large Tupperware bowl and put in the two Kansas City strip steaks she’d bought, then added the marinade. Sealing the lid, she put it in the fridge to do its job while she put the rest of the food away. By the time Clark made it home, the steaks would be ready for the grill.

Grabbing a glass of water, she headed into the bedroom and started taking off her duty gear. Once she’d removed all of it, she put her armor on the rack inside out to let it dry. Then she hit it with a healthy dose of Febreeze, just for good measure. Hanging the duty belt on the hook beside the armor, she sat down and took off her zip-sided tactical boots.

Stripping down to her sports bra and panties, she went to the closet to select something appropriate to wear for his homecoming. She went back and forth between different dresses, but she opted for a black shift that was easy to remove. She knew Clark would appreciate that.

“Alright boys,” she said to the dogs. “I’m getting in the shower. You guys watch my back.”

The dogs dutifully followed her into the bathroom and made themselves comfortable on the rug in front of the vanity. Slipping out of the rest of her clothes and into the hot shower, she let the water wash away the stress of the day. It had been exhausting. Since the sheriff had stepped down, they’d all been pulling extra shifts to keep up with the case load. It wasn’t as if Prescott had done any of the work. It was that when he left, eight of his cronies went with them and the department was now critically short-handed.

Lathering up her legs, she got her razor and started to shave. Each time she did so, she saw the scars that were left behind from when they fought the Gugwe and the memories flashed back to her as fresh as the day they happened. She’d gotten those scars the day that Konrad had been killed. The scars had faded since that day, but the memories were still vividly clear. She knew that they probably always would be.

As difficult as it had made things since the incident, she was actually glad that reporter had broken the story. Most people still didn’t believe it was actually a Bigfoot creature, but quite a few did. She’d been asked about it many times but had to tell them that she couldn’t really talk about it. Some understood and some didn’t, but she knew that none of them would really understand what happened. You couldn’t really, unless it happened to you. She also promised not to go public with what she knew. Unlike Prescott, she took her oaths seriously.

It was almost 1645 by the time she got dressed and ready. She was wearing a simple short black dress with spaghetti straps on the shoulders. She’d left the shoes off, on purpose. Glancing at the time on her phone, she decided to wait on the porch. She left the pups in the living room and smiled at them before she shut the door.

“Behave yourselves,” she said. “I’ll be just outside.”

They promptly got up on the couch and curled up, watching the door patiently.

“Oh, you’re not spoiled rotten at all,” she said, closing the door and chuckling softly.

She’d left them inside not because she didn’t want them running around, but because she didn’t want the competition for Clark’s attention when he first got home. The pups would have immediately rushed him and jumped all over him. That was her job and she intended to do just that as soon as he got here.

She was waiting to hear the familiar sound of his jeep coming up the driveway, but when the clock said 1700, she still hadn’t heard it. She was beginning to wonder if maybe he’d ran into traffic near the lake when she heard a sound that caught her attention. It was a helicopter and it seemed to be getting closer. Ordinarily, she wouldn’t pay much attention because aircraft flew over the lake all the time, but this one seemed to be coming in very low. It kept growing louder.

Glancing around, the sound seemed like it was practically on top of the cabin. Then, suddenly, a small chopper came streaking in just over the tops of the trees. It was clearly a military chopper but not one she was familiar with. She knew Blackhawks and Chinooks, but this one was smaller and looked really fast. What she didn’t know was the chopper was an MH-6 Little Bird.

The chopper flared upwards and came to a stop directly over the front yard. A large rope dropped and a man wearing full combat gear and carrying a rifle slung across his chest leaned out the side. He was wearing a helmet and dark sunglasses. In an instant, he slid down the rope and hit the ground. The rope dropped down behind him and the chopper turned and shot off over the trees, back the way it had come. All told, the chopper had been visible for less than thirty seconds.

When the soldier removed his helmet and sunglasses, she could see it was Clark and he was grinning like a kid. He dropped his gear as she ran towards him, then swept her up into his arms and pulled her close. She was kissing him and crying at the same time, happy beyond words to finally have him home for a while. They kissed there in the middle of the yard for a long moment, savoring the embrace. When they finally came up for air, she kept her arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

“God, I missed you,” he said, smiling broadly.

“That was a hell of an entrance,” she said. “Did you do that just to impress me?”

“We were on a training exercise at a base down in Arkansas,” he explained, “I’ve been jumping out of that damned chopper all day. Since we were heading back to Fort Leonard Wood anyway, I just had the pilot drop me here.”

“When do you have to be back?” she asked.

“A week from Monday,” he replied. “I’m here to support Team Sanchez-Clark for the election. Plus, I gotta make sure I cast my vote for the hottest cop in history.”

“Wow, you really must like Bonham,” she said, teasingly.

“Oh yeah,” said Clark. “Iron grey hair and a face like a goddamned Rottweiler gets me every time.”

She laughed and kissed him again.

“You’re going to have to stop before we wind up naked in the front yard,” he said, picking her up and cradling her in his arms.

“Well,” she said, grinning wickedly, “I don’t think the neighbors will mind.”

“You smell wonderful,” he said, “but I smell like the inside of a footlocker. I’ve been running and gunning in this armor all day. As much as I want to get grass stains on my knees and your back right now, I desperately need a shower.”

“Well,” she said, “I already took one, but there’s no law that says I can’t take another one.”

“You can never be too clean,” said Clark, carrying her towards the house.

“What about your gear?” she asked.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine for a little while,” he said, opening the door and carrying her inside.

After a long, hot shower and the “shaving thing” that had become a romantic game with them, they headed in to start cooking their supper. Clark took time to rough-house with the pups and they rolled and jumped all over him, loving the playtime. After an appropriate amount of puppy time, Clark washed up and helped Amanda get supper started. He fired up the grill and got the coals burning when he heard her phone ring. Glancing back, he saw the look of concern on her face.

“It’s the department,” she said.

“Well, fuck,” he said. “I hope they’re not calling you in to work.”

“Me too,” she said, hitting the answer button. “Sanchez.”

Clark scowled at her and she flashed him her beautiful smile. She put her hand over her ear and walked a short distance away. He kept an eye on her as he put the steaks on the grill. She was only on the phone for a few moments when she hung up and came walking back over with a shocked look on her face.

“What’s going on, babe?” he asked. “If it’s work, I can go with you. I’m still a reserve deputy.”

“Well, yes and no,” she said. “That was Kimmy at dispatch. She told me to watch the news for the full story, but that I was now a shoo-in for Sheriff. Bonham dropped out of the race today.”

“What?” said Clark, shocked. “Who drops out of a race just days before the election?”

“Guys with a nasty secret that they hoped wouldn’t come out,” she answered. “Apparently, Bonham left the Highway Patrol under allegations of sexually assaulting a young female patrol officer and forcing her to be quiet about it under threat of her job. The Highway Patrol kept it quiet while it was under internal investigation. They filed formal charges today and arrested him at his Kimberling City house.”

“Are you serious?” asked Clark, wide-eyed.

“As a heart attack,” she said. “Thank god he wasn’t elected sheriff. Guys that do shit like that will keep doing it as long as they think they can get away with it. We’ve got several young female deputies who he would probably target.”

“Well, he’s not targeting anyone, now,” said Clark.

“Nope,” said Amanda. “He’ll be lucky to avoid a lengthy prison sentence.”

“Fuck him,” said Clark. “I hope he rots in jail. I hope some of the fellas at the Department of Corrections do to him what he did to that poor trooper.”

“I’d say that’s a good possibility,” said Amanda.

“Well, forget that asshole,” said Clark. “We’re celebrating, now.”

“What do you mean?” she said.

“Sheriff Amanda Sanchez-Clark,” said Clark. “That’s got a hell of a ring to it.”

“I think I prefer Sheriff Amanda Clark,” she said, smiling. “I’m proud to have that name.”

“And I’m proud of you,” said Clark. “You’re a better cop than I ever was.”

“I don’t know about that,” she said.

“I do,” he replied. “I’m good at fighting. I’m a soldier. You’re better at all the rest. You’re going to make one hell of a sheriff.”

“Thank you,” she said, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him.

Clark kissed her back. A lot. By the time they came up for air, he’d burned the steaks.

“Looks like we’re going out to eat,” he said, laughing. “The pups will have to get these steaks.”

“I don’t care where we go as long as we’re together,” she replied.

“Babe,” said Clark, “I’ll always come home to you. You’re stuck with me.”

“Promise?” she asked.

“Absolutely,” he replied. “Sheriff.”

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January 23, 1853

For three days in a row, William West had gone out in the morning to check his livestock and found at least one animal dead. The frozen ground made it almost impossible to find the tracks of the culprit, but William knew it had to be wolves. There simply wasn’t anything else anyone had seen in the Osage River Valley that could take down a large steer like that. Then, to see the sheer amount of damage that had been done to the poor animal.

On the third morning, they had struck and killed a heifer that was expecting her first calf in a few weeks. Not only had the heifer been brutally killed, the unborn calf had been ripped from her stomach and mostly devoured on the spot. To make it even worse, his best stock dog had tried to defend the heifer and met a similar fate. The only difference is that the dog hadn’t been fed upon. It had been ripped to shreds, but all of its pieces could be found strewn about the area. From the amount of blood and the condition of the body, it was clear that the dog had gone down fighting. Not that it had done it any good.

With the losses growing expensive to both the herd and William’s pocketbook, he decided it was time to do something about it. After he finished dragging the biggest pieces of the carcasses down by the riverbank and well-away from the rest of the herd, William quickly finished the morning chores and hurried back to the house. He gathered up his hunting rifle and his powder horn and extra lead shot and slung them over his shoulder.

“Where are you off to, William?” asked his young bride Amelia.

“We had another one of the cattle killed last night,” he explained. “They got the pregnant heifer. My stock dog Roscoe was killed, too. I’ve got to put a stop to this killing before we lose everything.”

“So, what are you doing right now?” she asked, nodding at his rifle.

“I’m going to ride down the valley to your brother’s place and see if he’ll help me track and kill this wolf pack,” said William. “Micah is a better hunter than I am and a crack shot. Between the two of us, we’ll kill enough of the pack that they won’t come back.”

“Has he lost any of his herd?” she asked.

“Last I spoke to him,” said William, “he’d lost two calves and a few chickens. I’m sure he’s going to want this pack put down as much as I do.”

“I’ll put on a good supper for this evening,” said Amelia. “I expect Micah will bring at least one of his sons with him. I’ll be ready to feed you all before you go out hunting.”

Kissing his wife, William went out and saddled his mule. Once he was set, he headed down the river road. It was only five miles to Micah’s farm and they could be back by early afternoon. That would give them time to try and locate tracks or a possible den in the area before the sun set.

The sun was warm on his face despite the chill to the air as he rode down the river road. It was a beautiful winter’s day and he felt confident that they could end the threat to his livestock by morning. That would mean that every farmer along the river valley could sleep easier knowing that his livestock were safe. It might also put some much needed money in his own pocket if they could collect a few wolf pelts in good condition. Money that they could use to recoup the losses from the dead livestock and maybe some to spare. He’d had his eye on a new plow for a few months, now.

It was just after midday when William, Micah and his oldest son Jonah arrived back at his homestead. He could see the smoke rising from the chimney and smell fresh bread as he started putting his mule back in the barn. Micah helped put away the mules while Jonah went inside to see his Aunt Amelia.

Once the mules were put away, Micah and William headed down to the field to search for tracks. They found indistinct impressions in the frozen ground, but nothing that they could identify or follow for any distance. The tracks that they were able to locate were odd and shaped differently than they had ever seen before. It also looked almost like whatever it had been had been walking on two legs. They both laughed when they discussed that, knowing how preposterous that had to be. No man could do the things that had been done to these animals.

By supper time, they returned to the house and sat down for a meal of Amelia’s famous chicken and dumplings with fresh baked bread and apple pie. They laughed and caught up on the doings of both families. It had been a few weeks since Micah had been to visit and Amelia was excited to send back some fresh eggs and bread with him.

Once the food had been consumed, the laughter seemed to fade away. Micah and William got up and started checking over their rifles and equipment. Micah loaded a rifle for Jonah and set out the extra ball and powder that he would have with him.

“We’re putting you up on the roof of the barn,” said Micah, “where the flat side meets the corral. From there, you should have a good view of the pasture. Take your time and aim like I taught you. Most importantly though, don’t shoot me or your uncle.”

Jonah chuckled.

“I won’t, papa,” he assured him.

“Well, at least don’t shoot me,” said William. “Micah isn’t as pretty as I am.”

That drew a round of chuckles.

“Alright,” said William. “Let’s head out to the field. Jonah, once you’re in position I want you to make an owl call if you see anything moving near the stock.”

“Yessir,” said Jonah. “I’ll be watching.”

Grabbing his own powder and extra lead ball shot, William headed for the door. Amelia kissed him and put his hat on his head.

“You be careful out there,” she said, smiling. “Don’t let the wolves get you.”

“We’ll be careful,” William assured her.

Heading out into the darkness, she watched as they helped Jonah up onto the flat section of the barn roof, then headed out into the field. She suddenly had a strange feeling of impending danger. There was a full moon in the sky and the cattle were already acting nervous. Shutting the door, she dropped the locking bar in place and then sat by the fireplace to say a prayer for their safety. After a moment’s thought, she started praying for the safety of them all.

Moving away from the barn, Micah and William stopped at the edge of the field. William pointed to the far side near the river and leaned close to Micah.

“That’s where they’ve been coming into the fields from,” whispered William.

“I’ll set up near those willow trees,” whispered Micah. “You set up near the big trough. That way we can both shoot without getting in each other’s way.”

William nodded and headed for the trough. He watched as Micah moved quietly along the edge of the field, disappearing into the shadows beneath the willows. The cattle were already acting nervous and were starting to group up near the center of the field. They were circling around the few calves in the herd, protecting them from whatever threat they were sensing.

The cattle started lowing with more intensity. From the higher pitch, William could tell they were sensing trouble coming closer. Although he had yet to see anything, he was starting to feel the tension. He saw a dark shadow flit from one bunch of bushes to another, near the river. Whatever it was, it moved impossibly fast. It moved on all fours, so it had to be a wolf. No bear moved that fast.

Slowly, William cocked back the hammer on his rifle to avoid making too much noise. Even with the precautions, it seemed deafeningly loud in the stillness of the night. The moon was peeking intermittently through the scattered clouds, casting its cold, silvery light on the field in front of him.  When the beast stepped out from behind the bushes to slip closer to the fence, William got his first clear look at the creature.

It looked like a wolf, but far larger than any he’d ever seen before. It was also the deep black that one only sees in a cave or when the clouds were thick enough to blot out even the light of the stars. It could be seen moving in the shadows as a darker shadow. Only the feral yellow eyes seemed to glow with a light all their own, made all the clearer by the cold silvery-blue of the moonlight.  

Raising his rifle, he sighted in on the beast, placing his sights squarely on the spot just behind the front legs. He wanted to destroy the heart and drop the beast as quickly as possible. A wolf of that size could do considerable damage before it died. If he merely wounded it, the beast could turn on one of them or vanish into the night only to die somewhere deep in the wilds. If that happened, he would never collect on the pelt and he needed that money.

Closing one eye, he was just easing his breathing to take up the slack on the trigger when the resounding boom of a gunshot roared out through the darkness. William saw the muzzle-flash and knew it had been Micah. At a range of less than fifty yards, there was no way that Micah had missed his target. William had seen him drop a deer at twice the range with a single shot.

From the reaction of the beast, William knew that Micah had struck his target. Only, instead of falling, the beast whirled around and headed directly at Micah. Taking careful aim, William knew he had to drop the beast before it could make it to Micah. Otherwise, it would likely tear out his throat before it died.

The boom of Micah’s pistol roared in the darkness and the creature stumbled but didn’t fall. William fired and saw the creature twist and hit the ground, rolling to a stop a few yards short of where Micah sat hidden in the willows. To William’s surprise, the beast got back up and leapt into the willows. That’s when the screaming started.

Getting to his feet, William sprinted towards the willows, drawing his pistol as he ran. Ahead, he could see a black liquid that seemed to coat the ground and the willow leaves, but there was no sign of Micah or the beast. The screaming sounded once more, only this time it gurgled and ceased with a wet crunching sound. The beast had dragged Micah down the embankment near the river.

Just before William reached the edge of the embankment, the creature jumped up in front of him. The beast’s fur glistened an oily black in the moonlight, but William knew it had to be Micah’s blood. Raising his pistol, he shot the beast at almost pointblank range directly in the head. He heard the grunt of pain as the beast fell to the ground. Stepping around the beast, William looked down at the riverbank and saw Micah. His head had been torn from his shoulders and one arm was ripped off at the elbow. Behind him, he heard a strange popping sound, almost like the sound made when you wrung the neck of a chicken.

“Dear God,” cried William.

He started to head down the embankment when he felt hot breath on the back of his neck. The fetid smell of blood and rotten meat enveloped him and his stomach almost emptied its contents.

“Oh no,” he whispered.

He expected to feel the sharp teeth of the beast sink into his skin, but was shocked when a pair of massive hands gripped his neck and lifted him from the ground as if he didn’t weigh an ounce. As the beast turned him around, William could see directly into the beast’s hellish yellow eyes and knew that his feet were dangling over two feet from the ground below him.

“What the hell are you?” he wheezed.

“What… the… hell… are… you?” rumbled the voice of the beast, deep and menacing.

William wasn’t certain if it was an actual question or if it had just repeated what he’d said. Either way, the beast spoke and that thought was terrifying beyond words. He felt his bladder release as he stared into the maw of the beast. It was leaning closer, as if to bite his face off when William heard the gunshot. Jonah had fired his rifle.

William heard the beast grunt softly, but seemed to make no other reaction. It was as if the bullets had done no real damage. William was certain that he was staring into the eyes of the devil himself. With a crunch of bone, the beast tossed William against the embankment. His neck was broken and he couldn’t move, but he wasn’t dead yet. He knew that was only a matter of time.

He watched in horror as the beast turned around and ran on two legs directly at Jonah. He tried to scream for Jonah to run, but his voice would not work. Only a soft moan escaped his lips. He saw Jonah get to his feet and look for a place to run, but the beast was too fast. In a single leap, it was on the roof of the barn and bearing Jonah to the ground. William was grateful that he was far enough away that he couldn’t hear the breaking of the boy’s neck. There was short scream of pain, then the beast stood up holding Jonah’s head. It looked into the eyes for a moment before tossing the head aside like it no longer mattered.

Then, William saw the beast slowly turn its gaze to the small farmhouse. It was going after his beloved Amelia. He tried to scream but words would not come. He tried to force his body to move, but it would not listen. His vision was beginning to fade as he saw the front door smashed open with one massive blow of the beast’s fist. That was the last thing he saw in this world. As the light faded away, the last sounds he heard was the screaming of his wife. Then all sensation was gone.

Days later, when neighbors came to check on the farm because a number of their stock had gotten out and wandered to other farms, they were greeted with a gruesome sight. The house and been completely ransacked and there was blood everywhere. More blood was found on the side of the barn, the roof of the barn, in the field and near the river but no bodies were ever found. No trace of the four missing settlers was ever found.

The stories traveled up and down the river valley. The beast had claimed more victims.

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