Nightmare Mountain by Peg Kehret Page B

climbed on the lift and started the motor.
    As the lift rose, she looked down and was struck by the beauty of the scene. The fenceposts, wearing caps of snow, marched across the white fields. On the other side of the house, the icy limbs of the Christmas trees sparkled in the early morning sun. With a little shock of surprise, Molly realized she wasn’t scared. She had ridden the lift so many times that it no longer bothered her to look down.
    Something good comes of everything, her mother always said. Maybe, out of all this terror and pain, she would at least be cured of her fear of heights.
    Buckie was waiting at the top, tail wagging. He must have heard the lift coming.
    “Good Buckie,” she said, and she rubbed his ears.
    She made her way to where Glendon lay in the snow. His face was pale and his lips had a bluish color that frightened her. When she left him, it was still quite dark. Now, in the bright daylight, he looked sicker than she remembered.
    Quickly, she told him what had happened and what her plan was. “I don’t know if it will work,” she said. “If nobody has come for you in an hour, you’d better drag yourself to the lift, get down, and somehow get to the house and call for help.”
    Glendon’s eyes filled with tears and Molly realized he didn’t think he could make it.
    “Your mother’s still alive,” she said. “She made it and you will, too.”
    Glendon blinked away the tears. “Mother didn’t die?”
    “She didn’t die and you won’t, either.” Molly knew she was convincing herself as well as Glendon. “We aren’t going to let that rotten thief get the best of us.”
    “That rotten thief,” Glendon said, “is my uncle.”
    Molly was too shocked to answer.
    “If you make it and I don’t,” Glendon said, “tell Dad that his brother stole the llamas.”
    “Your own uncle tried to kill you?” Molly said.
    Glendon nodded. “Uncle Craine.”
    “Well, your Uncle Craine isn’t going to get away with it,” Molly said. “But you may have to help yourself, no matter how much it hurts or how hard it is. Even when your dad gets home, he won’t know to look for you up here. If I don’t make it, you
must
get yourself to the lift and go down.”
    Glendon nodded, a look of determination in his eyes.
    Molly took a deep breath and turned away from him. “Come on, Buckie,” she said. “You’re going with me this time.”
    “Molly?”
    She looked back.
    “Good luck,” he said. “And I—I’m sorry for how I acted. You’re not like Gladys, after all. You aren’t a bit like Gladys.”
    “Thanks.” She still didn’t know who Gladys was but there was no time to find out now. If she didn’t get back down with Buckie soon, Craine would come looking for them and when he found them, he wouldn’t waste time talking.
    She and Buckie rode down together. When they reached the lower pasture, she sent the lift back up to thetop. That way it would be there, if Glendon needed it.
    She headed down the path and saw that Craine had succeeded in getting one of the llamas on the truck. He’d roped another one, too, but he couldn’t make the animal move toward the truck. It was tugging and pulling on the rope like a bucking bronco.
    Could a nice man like Uncle Phil have a creep like Craine for a brother? As she looked at him, she knew it was true. He had the same build as Uncle Phil and the same brown eyes. All he lacked was the beard. And the smile.
    Buckie stopped. The fur stood up in a little ridge along his back and a low, growl came from deep in his throat.
    Molly put one hand on Buckie’s head and stroked him. Buckie stopped growling. Molly realized that Craine was concentrating so hard on the llama he’d roped that he had not heard the lift return, nor did he realize that Molly and Buckie were now walking down the path.
    “Heel,” she said softly. She started walking again and Buckie stayed beside her. She kept her eyes on Craine. He still didn’t notice her but the frightened