Read Under Suspicion - The Legend of D.B. Cooper Page 45

Buck picked up a metal bucket and opened the large feed bin next to the straw pile. He dipped the bucket in and filed it with a mixture of oats and barley. At that moment, the clouds started breaking from around the morning sun and filled the barn with light. The rays were like long needles, piercing Buck’s eyes and into his hangover.

  Oh lord! My head! Buck thought as the brightness made every artery in his brain pound. I’d better get some aspirin. Buck set the bucket down in the middle of the barn’s walkway, then grabbed the pitchfork to steady himself. Shielding his eyes from the light with his hand, he walked out of the barn and towards the house carrying the pitchfork.

  Crouching down low, Alan and Chet moved quickly down the side of the corral. “Hold it,” Alan whispered as he caught a glimpse of the old man rushing into the house.

  “Maybe he saw us and went for help,” Chet whispered, worriedly.

  “No, he couldn’t have seen us. Keep moving,” Alan replied unconvincingly. He ducked under and stepped through the railings of the corral fence. Chet was right behind him when he got to the back door of the barn. “Is your camera ready to go?”

  “Yes,” Chet confirmed as he lifted it to his shoulder and turned it on.

  “Follow me in and find a vantage point with some cover. We don’t know what we’re up against in there.” Alan pulled the Desert Eagle from his shoulder holster, then pulled the slide back loading a round in the chamber. Opening the door, he slowly peered in. On either side of the door were stables with mules in them, and down the center was a walkway. Alan quickly moved in, and crouched next to one of the stables, with Chet following closely behind.

  Alan lifted his hand in order to block the light coming from the opposite door. The sun was shining directly into the barn and its reflection off the lake made it impossible to see into the shadows. The mules in the stables moved around nervously knowing instantly two strangers were present.

  As Buck threw a handful of pain relievers in his mouth, and chased them down his throat with water, he heard one of the mules whinny. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Molly. You’ll get your oats,” he said out loud, walking towards the front door of the cabin.

  The mule’s uneasy movements worried Alan. “You stay here while I go forward and try to get a better look at the house,” he whispered. Chet nodded, with camera rolling, as Alan started moving towards the front of the barn.

  Buck grabbed the pitchfork that he had left leaning on the porch, and moved as quickly as his hangover would allow toward the barn.