Over the next few days I began to get the basics down for my article. I spoke to the logging Union and the local environmental enthusiasts to get the opposing sides to the issue. I talked to George Powell and confirmed the information that he gave Ron. I even talked to some of the drivers of the automobiles that had hit some of the animals. It was pretty cut and dry. Logging was encroaching on the local habitat and was steadily driving the wildlife down into the valley. The path of the fleeing animals was being lead across Route 556 and Highway 2 which was resulting in a raised number of road kill.
My deadlines were always a few days before the other reporters of the Gazette. This was to allow time to transcribe my article into an electronic format. I still used an old manual typewriter to click out my articles, much to the annoyance of my editor. However, Ron was willing to concede to my technological stubbornness due to the quality of my investigative work. Plus, I enjoyed the firm resistance of the keys, the metallic click, the dull thud, and the letters appearing on the paper one at a time. I liked the look of my article when it was done. When I pulled it off the spindle, I felt like I was pulling off the last page to some future paperback detective novel or some other piece of cheesy fiction. There was a tangible satisfaction in it.
I was in the middle of making a correction to a mistyped word when my phone rang.
“Hey Frank, it’s George!”
“Hi George. How are you?”
“Fine. Hey Frank, I have a few of my boys going out to get a horse that was hit this morning by one of the logging trucks. I was wondering if you wanted to go out with him. Maybe get a picture for your article?”
“A horse?” I asked, very concerned.
“Yeah, a nice white one, I guess an Appaloosa or something. Kind of shocked to get a call from the logging company, but the heat you put on them with your investigating your article and all has made them a little more compliant with reporting incidents. Especially after hitting a horse.”
“Well, yeah, I’d love to tag along. I’m afraid I can’t help lift the carcass.” I said with a laugh.
“No problem. The boys will take care of the horse.”
YOU ARE READING
Stranger in the Woods
Mystery / ThrillerThere is the belief that myths are not real. What begins as a routine story for a small rural paper becomes a journey for a journalist that leads from a fascinating discovery to a horrible truth. Can reality and myth coexist or will one destroy th...
