Chapter 19

Peter stepped through into Earth and found himself in the dimly lit, plywood-walled storage room that formed his portal receiving chamber on this side. He was naked, as usual, and began shivering almost immediately from the unexpected cold.

“What the hell,” he muttered, looking for the portable room heater which should have addressed that issue but found it missing from its usual spot. The rest of the room was also empty and silent and he noted that the room’s sole exit, a large overhead door a dozen feet opposite the portal, was currently closed. He listened for activity beyond the door but all was silent. He reached one leg forward to step on the trigger rope, hearing the click as it activated the message switch.

Brenda, his assistant on this side was clearly not present. He was not surprised, as, being a rancher, she was often unmindful of the time. Peter also noticed that the clothing which should have been left for them was also absent.

“Dammit!” he muttered, turning carefully to face the still-active portal through which his right arm still had yet to emerge. Slowly, with steady effort, he pulled his arm forward, drawing an equally-naked Taylor through the shimmering rift. She fought against his grip suddenly and he pulled harder. Her head emerged and the silence of the small room was pierced by a scream.

“AHHH! It’s eating me!” she shrieked.

As she looked around in panic, he quickly pulled the rest of her body through which caused her to stumble into his embrace. He held her for a moment, feeling her relax as she realized she was safely through the portal and back on Earth.

“You’re fine!” he explained to the frightened girl, “The sensation was just your nerves reacting to the transfer. Come, help me pull through the rope.”

His other hand was gripping a stout sisal rope which still trailed back into the portal. Taylor looked around the bare room for a moment in confusion before responding to his request. Together, they pulled until the heavier iron chain emerged through the portal. With that, the effort they were expending increased substantially, and they had to lean to continue making progress.

The new action caused Taylor’s breasts to jiggle which distracted Peter momentarily. As he watched, he saw her nipples stiffening from the cold. He chastised himself and renewed his concentration, needing to keep the link to the portal open before the chain was severed.

Behind him, Peter heard activity in the outer room. Moments later, the overhead metal door began rising and he and Taylor turned to watch, feeling immediately the colder air that rushed in through the rising opening. The room beyond became visible revealing bales of hay and straw stacked in neat rows. Peter cursed internally as Taylor would now know that they had arrived into a barn of some sort.

When the door had risen high enough, a plump, dark-haired woman wearing Carhartt coveralls stooped and entered. The woman saw them standing there and dropped the duffle bag she was carrying.

“Peter, you’re early!” she said, hitting the button to reverse the still-rising door.

“Brenda, you’re late!” Peter replied, both amused and exasperated with his Earth-side assistant.

It was an old debate. He was usually on time while his caretaker here was often too busy to remember the time. The woman noted that they were holding the chain and quickly moved to the electric winch which was mounted to the wall beside the door. She grabbed the remote control and hit the button which started the winch in reverse and caused it to begin spooling out cable.

“Calving season, Peter,” the plump, but muscular older brunette explained. “Blame it on your cattle.”

Brenda slowly walked the lengthening cable to where they stood holding the chain.

“Sorry it’s so cold in here,” she said, noticing the two of them shivering. “All the heaters are spoken for in the calving barn.”

“You own cattle?” Taylor whispered to Peter.

“They are Brenda’s cattle,” he explained, giving his too-vocal assistant a sharp look. “She just says they are mine when she wants to use them as an excuse for her tardiness.”

“He’s still the majority owner, Taylor,” Brenda said dismissively. “And he knows how much money he’d lose if I left the newborn calves unattended with all this late-season snow.”

The cable was now extended far enough that Brenda could attach its hook to the chain. She then started the winch retracting the cable. Soon, Taylor and Peter were able to ease off holding tension on the chain as the electric winch motor took over most of the burden of pulling his cargo through from Kreven.

“How do you know my name ... miss?” Taylor asked, now able to wrap her arms around herself.

“Call me Brenda, my dear,” the fortyish woman responded, briefly taking Taylor’s hand in hers. “Peter sent word of who he was bringing through with last night’s message.”

“A message that I recall had the precise time of our arrival,” muttered Peter.

“Oh pshaw, Peter,” Brenda replied.

Brenda left the winch operating and went to untie the trip rope to get it out of the way. She next pointed to the duffle bag she had dropped near the overhead door.

“There’s clothing in the bag, Taylor,” Brenda explained. “The socks and underwear were yours ... freshly washed of course. The rest of your clothing I burned but I’ve included new sweatpants and a warm hoodie. No bra for now as I was unsure of your size. You’re much larger upstairs after Pete’s plant healed you. The blue jeans and larger clothes are for Peter.”

Taylor quickly went to the bag and began pulling out and sorting the clothing. Peter ignored her for the moment, focusing instead on mentally keeping the rift open and on the chain emerging from the portal. Two bound iron cages began emerging. Inside one of the cages was a wooden box with the purified, magic-free gemstones and gold.

“Late-season snow?” Peter asked Brenda who was beside him, whispering so that Taylor could not overhear.

“A nasty spring blizzard three days ago,” Brenda explained quietly. “Half the herd is still stuck out in the west pastures. We’ve been using snowmobiles to hunt down the new mamas and bring their calves back to the main barn.”

“The roads?” Peter asked next.

“Just the main ones are open,” she replied. “And I called around and only Murphy Crossing airport has been plowed. Karmen will be able to land there this afternoon.”

Peter frowned. Murphy Crossing was three hours away. It would be a long boring ride for Taylor and a risky drive for him as he could not afford to be stopped by the highway patrol.

“Large haul this time,” Brenda said, gesturing to the wooden box.

“Yes, I’ll have to split the shipment up and send them off to over a dozen dealers.”

“Peter?” Taylor said. “Will I have to wear this?”

She was holding a zippered leather hood with the eye patches permanently sewn in place.

“Yes, when we leave this room,” he explained. “Have you ever worn such a hood?”

“Not without being able to see!” she responded looking upset.

“Well, the alternative is that I sedate you. I would prefer you remain able to walk around on your own though.”

Brenda shut off the winch after the end of the cage fully emerged from the portal. Peter released his grip on the rope and concentrated on halting the flow of his life force flow into the gateway. Once the flow stopped, the shimmering portal collapsed and disappeared completely. All that remained on this side to indicate that this was the portal location was the top of the mostly-buried guide stone which protruded a few inches above the concrete floor.

The stone had glyphs carved into it that Peter had never been able to date. This meant that the stone predated any native tribes that had lived in the area long before Europeans had arrived. As he had mused many times before, it would be interesting—assuming that he ever had the spare time and if he could afford to lose the use of this portal— to do a bit of archeology, excavating around the stone under the floor to look for further artifacts.

He helped Brenda wrestle the wrought iron cages apart and extracted the wooden loot box. Brenda pulled into position a winch hoist that was mounted to a track in the ceiling and used it to move the cages to the side of the room where there were low benches for storing them horizontally.

While she was busy doing that, Peter dressed himself. First, he donned the heavy pair of socks which got his feet off the bare cold concrete. Next came new boxer briefs still in the plastic. He caught Taylor and Brenda exchanging a smile as they scoped him out adjusting his ‘package’ in its new ‘package’. His blue jeans and the long-sleeved work shirt followed, ending the show.

Taylor was now completely dressed including the hoodie. She held the hood out to him which indicated that she’d chosen wearing that over being sedated. Before Peter began to put the hood on her, Brenda spoke up.

“Eat a power bar from the bag, Taylor. It will be a long ride to the main house.”

Peter took one for himself before handing the second to Taylor. They ate the bars quickly while Brenda reset the winch and the trip rope. She then handed Peter a simple-looking cell phone after explaining that she set it up and charged it for him. He pocketed the device without turning it on as he knew they were currently out of cell range at this shed. Next, he assisted Brenda in opening the wooden crate and transferring the bagged gemstones and gold into a more-compact aluminum travel case.

“If either of you have to use the can,” Brenda said, when they had finished, “there is a bucket just outside.

Taylor shook her head. He’d made them piss before they’d left Kreven to reduce transfer costs. When she was finished with a second food bar, Taylor nodded and Peter slipped on the leather hood, cinching it around her throat. He then guided her hand to where the strap was snapped.

“Here is where you pull if you need to take the hood off,” he explained. “Please don’t unless I tell you to.”

She remained silent but nodded. Peter then opened the overhead door and guided Taylor out into the larger hay storage building outside. The floor was now gravel except for a small area of concrete near the portal chamber. On this sat a folding chair and next to it was a large cardboard box. Peter helped Taylor sit and then proceeded to rummage through the box which was filled with shoes and boots.

“I suppose you don’t remember what kind of shoes you were wearing when I brought you here?”

“I don’t remember anything that happened in the whole month before that, Peter,” she replied with a bit of heat. “But I think I remember owning a pair of blue tennis shoes.”

Peter found the likely candidates and placed them into her hands. While she fumbled getting the shoes on, Peter found his boots. He pulled them on just as Brenda emerged from the portal room with the aluminum briefcase. She handed it to Peter and then cycled the overhead door closed before attaching two padlocks to hasps on each side.

“I left my truck running outside,” Brenda said as she pulled on a heavy winter work coat that had been hung next to the door. “I’ll go pull it around to the side door so Taylor does not have to walk through too much snow in those shoes.”

Peter helped Taylor stand and then helped her into a heavy Carhartt overcoat that Brenda had left for her.

“This smells!” she exclaimed, sniffing one sleeve.

“They tell me that is the smell of money,” he replied. “Don’t worry. You won’t notice it as much when we get in Brenda’s truck.”

He put his own work coat on and then guided the blind girl down a long passageway between tall stacks of hay. At the end was a larger open area in which a loader tractor was parked. The large overhead door behind the tractor was closed so Peter led Taylor to the smaller, walk door. He could hear Brenda maneuvering her truck outside.

Outside the sun was shining but it was still cold. The late snow Brenda had mentioned covered everything and was substantial, nearly two feet deep in places. The parking area south of the hay shed had been cleared but there was still nearly two inches of the fresh snowfall covering the ground. Brenda exited her truck and opened the rear passenger door before scrambling around in the back seat clearing room for Taylor.

Peter just shook his head as the woman pushed aside or tossed out empty sacks of calf starter feed and other veterinarian supplies. The rear bench seat was soon cleared enough for one passenger and Peter got Taylor inside. He remembered to buckle her in due to the rough roads which lay between this remote shed and Brenda’s ranch home.

“Brrr!” was Taylor’s only comment as he helped her into the cold truck. To his surprise, Brenda’s truck didn’t smell too bad. She must have had it detailed on one of her recent trips to town. He mentioned this to her when she got back into the driver’s seat.

“Yeah, I broke down and had it cleaned. Terrell borrowed my truck last week and used the back seat to haul a sick newborn calf to the vet. The little fucker shit all over but luckily the seat covers caught most of it.”

Peter glanced back to see Taylor carefully feeling the seat next to where she was sitting.

“They did a good job,” he commented.

The next forty minutes were spent bouncing and sliding around the back roads of the ranch as they made their way across the twelve miles to the main house. Why the portal had to be located so far out in the middle of nowhere was both a curse and a blessing. At least he’d been able to buy the grazing land around it shortly after he’d discovered it. He didn’t own all the land between this place and Brenda’s ranch but he had managed to secure access easements where needed.

This stretch of rough trail was on one of the easements. The surly bastard he’d purchased the easement from would only allow his passage but didn’t want any significant improvements to the road. Taylor only complained once but did request that they stop twice for a short break as she felt herself becoming carsick. For Peter, the rocking and swaying combined with the transfer fatigue caused him to nod off repeatedly.

Once they arrived at the ranch compound, Brenda pulled into the main house’s attached garage, shutting the door behind them.

“Cookie is taking lunch out to the hands in the pastures so the basement dining room is empty Peter,” Brenda explained. “Also, the kids and Alan are at school so we will be the only ones here.”

Alan was Brenda’s husband. He was the principal of the nearby school (only twenty miles one way!) and took their two young children with him most days to spare a long bus ride. Peter had met the man a few times and found him to be the perfect passive husband required for an alpha woman like Brenda.

He told Taylor to take off her hood before leading her down the garage’s utility stairway into Brenda’s basement. They arrived into a small common dining room in this house-within-a-house. It had been remodeled over a decade ago for the use of the four ranch hands who lived in the basement and worked on the ranch for Brenda and Alan.

“What’s going on?” Taylor asked, looking around the sparse, windowless basement.

“We are going to eat lunch and then you and I will be driving to our next stop,” he replied.

“There are drinks in the fridge,” Brenda said. “There’s fresh bread in the box and I’ve got a crockpot full of three-bean hotdish up in the main kitchen. Help yourself while I go fetch the crock.”

Peter told Taylor to have a seat before going to the cupboard for plates and silverware. He then looked in the fridge.

“Milk, orange juice, or Diet Coke?” he asked.

She chose the Coke and Peter grabbed one for himself, craving the boost provided by the caffeine. Cracking open the can, he took a sip and wondered, as he had before, if he could concoct a similar beverage on Kreven.

Three hours later Peter and Taylor arrived near the small airport just outside Murphy Crossing. He was driving Brenda’s newer SUV ... well, technically the vehicle was his, but Brenda and Alan also used it frequently, thankfully only for non-ranching related travel. Taylor was next to him in the passenger seat currently asleep. Her seat was reclined fully which helped keep the hood she was again wearing out of sight from other traffic.

The long drive had been uneventful and with the improving weather, the roads became clear and dry. Traffic, which had been extremely sparse early on near the ranch, had steadily increased as they moved towards more-populated regions. The airfield he approached was normally unmanned but as Brenda had reported, the snow had been recently been plowed from both the runway and from the paved areas near the half dozen privately-leased hangars.

“Wake up, Taylor,” he said gently. “We’re here.”

Peter pulled off the main road and parked the SUV in the small lot near the first of six small private hangars. Nearby, a familiar-looking, twin-engine aircraft sat waiting on the tarmac. It was a Beechcraft Baron owned by one of Peter’s companies. The plane’s pilot, Peter’s usual air chauffeur Karmen, was sitting in the pilot’s seat reading her phone. She looked up and waved when Peter honked the horn.