.219 Zipper

"I don't want to be pushy, but would you minded if I used your range for a little practice. I haven't found any good places where I could use my bow." She had an accent that I could not place. It was either English, Australian, or Scottish. I didn't want to ask.

"No, not at all. I think we could find something suitable for a target backstop. Feel free to use it anytime."

She ate a second biscuit. I felt really good.

"I am just curious. I thought that most people were using compound bows now. You have a recurve bow and it looks new."

"Don't get me started. Just take my word for it; recurve is better." She used plain bolts for target shooting but always carried four hunting shafts mounted on her bow.

That evening, I drove down the road a few miles and picked up three hay bales. Thus started my summer with Claire Charles.

Claire would arrive every day and return to her lodge every evening. The lodge staff had a tracker on her cell phone so that they knew where she was at all times. If Claire did not arrive back at the lodge they would send someone out to locate her. It was an arrangement that she set up upon her arrival, and it seemed to work out very well. It was the start of our second week together when we were hit with a heavy summer squall. We huddled on the porch of the cabin laughing and joking about her dilemma. Without saying anything, she pulled out her phone and called the lodge. She informed them that due to the weather she would be unable to return that evening and that she had found a comfortable place to stay for the night. I was both surprised and delighted. Thus my platonic relationship with Claire Charles turned intimate.

From there on we would alternate our sleeping arrangements. The Highlands Lodge was totally out of place in Potter County. It was posh, very expensive, and was considered an upgrade from the Poconos. Most of their guests were from overseas. Claire's family was from Cornwall. The Highlands had hot showers, lavish meals, and laundry service which I took full advantage of. Sex in the wilderness is fun, but a lot more enjoyable when you have facilities. We were spending less time at the range.

A couple of weeks later, while Claire and I were busy getting lunch together, Chuck and June arrived. June seemed especially pleased that I had a companion, and even more so when she figured out it was a full relationship. We kept things light for the first few hours and then June and Claire wandered off to girl chat. Chuck thought it was funny that Claire liked her beer warm and I had to have mine cold. I had to make several trips out to the spring to get refills.

After Terry Ulrich's tragic attack, I became the initial suspect. That turned out to be a bigger problem for Terry than he had imagined. The press wanted to know why I was the main interest. The more they looked into it the worst things seemed to go for Terry and my wife. Although the main focus was to find me, the press quickly shifted to the relationship between Terry and my wife. Three weeks later Terry Ulrich was no longer the spokesperson for Gilbert Endeavors.

The police had visited the bungalow in Schuylkill County and found it empty. They had no credit card leads, no phone call leads, and no idea what so ever where I might be. They never ask Chuck about the cabin.

Chuck mentioned that Sarah had come by the office several times trying in vain to find out where I was. She appeared to be a bit desperate, as her money source started to dry up. According to Chuck, it appeared that Terry had lost interest in her, and was blaming her for his demise.

I had no plan for my next step. I couldn't go back and I had no other options that I wanted to explore. I was drifting at the moment. As we approached the end of the year I found myself becoming complacent. I was happy and content with Claire, but I should have been paying attention to my real life.

It was a brisk Fall day and I was alone at the cabin. Something was not right, but I could not figure out what it was. I just got the woodstove stoked back to normal and had the coffee started when the door suddenly burst open. Terry Ulrich was just as big and just as ugly as he was the last time I saw him. He stood in the open doorway with a big grin on his face and an old .38 Police Special in his right hand. He seemed to be standing unsteadily and held his left arm at an odd angle as if he was trying to balance himself.

We just stood there looking at each other. I was expecting some deeply meaningful words of vengeance, but nothing came.

"Coffee?"

"Bastard! I spend over ten thousand dollars to find you. No, I don't want any damn coffee."

"Well, what can I do for you?"

"I know it was you, you sneaky little weasel. Your wife told me that you used to do a lot of target shooting. I hope you have 911 service up here because you are going to need it."

His face was getting all puffed up and red as he talked. He seemed to be working himself into a fury of some sort. All of a sudden he got a shocked expression on his face, dropped the gun and fell to one knee.

Terry Ulrich rolled over on the floor howling at the top of his lungs. About twelve inches of a crossbow bolt was sticking out of his left buttocks. The other six inches were buried deep and firm. Claire just stood in the doorway smiling.

We ran most of the way back to the Highlands. I had taken nothing with me from the cabin. It took Claire about fifteen minutes to get all of her stuff loaded in her rented Land Rover. We were laughing the whole time like a pair of high school kids. We finally calmed down to a fairly normal state when we reached US80. Breakfast was calming and satisfying.

"I assume that he has removed the arrow and got to a facility for treatment by now."

"I don't think so. He has to call 911. I shot him with one of the hunting bolts, with a triple-bladed head. It has to be cut out. It cannot be pulled out. He will probably have to lay on his belly on the gurney when he goes to the emergency room. That has to be embarrassing."

"Well, Miss Claire. It looks like we are in big trouble now, and it is all your fault." She flicked a fork full of scrambled eggs at me and laughed.

After breakfast, I made a call to Chuck, while Claire called someone else. I updated him on the situation and he seemed to think that it was quite humorous. I told him that we were going to Ocala, Florida where my grandparents lived. He snickered a bit because he knew I said that just to cover his ass.

While I was on the phone, Claire came over and took my wallet out of my pocket. She returned to her seat and continued her conversation, while I shopped for goodies for our trip.

What trip?

I didn't know, but we had to go someplace. For some reason or another, I felt that Claire had a plan. She didn't tell me anything and I didn't ask. I was content in my ignorance and I trusted her.

It was a long day. We finally stopped at a beautiful Bed and Breakfast in the Wisconsin Dells. We were beat from the drive and just fell fast asleep. Breakfast was great and four hours later we were at the Walmart Super Store in Duluth. Claire still had all of her stuff, but I left with nothing. I still had no idea what she had in mind and she seemed to be having fun keeping me in the dark. I got a new wardrobe of sorts and Claire got a big bag of snacks.

Ever since I was a boy I used to dream about taking a canoe trip to the Boundary Waters. I finally got to do it. Everything was arranged when we got there. The outfitter was even going to take care of Claire's rental car. That gave me a clue that we were probably not coming back. It was intriguing and exciting. I couldn't wait to see what else she had in store for me.

Before we set out I made one last call to Chuck.

"Skip! What in the hell did you do? It is all over the news here about Ulrich's latest demise. Some of the national services even picked it up."

"Gee Chuck, I have no idea what you are talking about." I could hear June laughing in the background.

"Well, his media image is dropping like a lead balloon. It seems that he can't do anything right."

"Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy. I always wanted to say that."

"By the way, Skip. Nice move on the divorce. Sarah was not expecting it, and it hit her hard. I don't know how you did it from up there, but it seemed to work. She has no idea what she is going to do and has no money to do it with."

"Chuck! Believe me. I am not joking. I have no idea what the hell you are talking about. I never even went to see a lawyer. Are you sure about the divorce?"

"Yeah! She was waving it in my face and ranting about it, just this morning."

"Well, it was nice to get some good news for a change. By the way, can you stop by the cabin and have somebody get my stuff and my car. The Marlin is still there."

"No problem. Where are you now?

"Moss Bluff, Florida. I am looking for a trailer I can rent."

Claire was standing on the dock waving me down. The canoe was loaded to the gills. I was thanking my parents for making me go to Boy Scout Camp when I was younger. At least I didn't feel like a complete doofus.

For the next six days, we paddled the lakes of the boundary waters. We had a different designated campsite each night. Claire knew where she was going and was using her cell phone GPS to get there. I was along for the ride and enjoying it. The best part of the trip was that she enjoyed sex under the stars.

It was noon the next day when our adventure continued. We were met by a single man at a small dock on a remote road. Claire and he started hugging and talking French. After thirty minutes or so he gave Claire the keys for the truck along with a large envelope. We took our things out of the canoe and set off down the road. I looked in the rear window and saw him push off from the dock. I was driving and Claire started rooting through the envelope.

"I guess I better get used to calling you 'Clinton'."

Of course, I gave her a strange look. She did her little snicker kind of laugh and handed me a Canadian driver's license with my picture on it. The name on the license was Clinton Barfield.

"You're kidding right?"

"No. You are now Clinton Barfield and you also have a new Canadian passport." She proudly waved in front of my face.

"Are we in Canada?"

"Of course, silly."

Four days later we landed in Newquay. In two hours we were at Claire's family home just outside of St Austell. It was as if I was born here. I felt comfortable and content.

I was still very anxious about meeting Claire's family. The manor house was enormous. Her father asked me to join him in the den. On the far wall was an elaborate walnut gun cabinet. I watched with interest as he reached inside and removed a rifle. He handed it to me and smiled. It was my Marlin 336C chambered for the .219 Zipper. I knew I was home.

Epilogue: I never saw or heard from Sarah or the girls again. Chuck and June got a strange Christmas card every year from Mr. and Mrs. Clinton Barfield. They had no idea. This year the card will have a picture of us and the three kids. I am sure he will figure it out.

Was there ever really a Terry Ulrich?