“Turns out that Tirov’s Western is being filmed at a place called Bonanza Creek Movie Ranch, which is only a few minutes’ drive from here. Do you know it?”

“Yes. I’ve been out there. It’s a good facility. Lots of movies have been shot there. Boris didn’t mention it to me.”

“I shouldn’t think he would.”

They had dinner and shared a good bottle of wine. By the time they had cleaned up the kitchen it was bedtime, and they were both a little drunk.

Stone went ahead to the master suite and turned on some lights. Bob came along and got into his bed. Then he growled.

“What is it?” Stone asked.

Bob growled again, but then thought better of it and put his head down.

Stone got Gala’s pistol from her bedside table and pumped a round into the chamber. He turned on the outside lights, stepped out onto the terrace, the gun extended, and walked halfway around the house and back. No bears.

He went back inside, disarmed the pistol, and put it into his bedside drawer. He was more tired than he had thought, and still a little drunk, and he was out before Gala came to bed.

47

Stone was awakened by a loud bark from Bob. He sat up and looked at the dog; the room was lit by the moon. “Bob,” he said softly, “go back to sleep. There are no bears.” Then he heard another noise, one he had not heard since he was a boy at summer camp. He had been running down a trail and ran straight over a rattlesnake before he heard the rattle.

Now he heard the rattle again, and Bob started barking.

“What’s going on?” Gala said, sitting up.

“Just stay where you are, and don’t put your feet on the floor.” He got out the pistol again and armed it. The rattling continued, and so did Bob.

Stone got on his hands and knees and crawled to the end of the bed. He could see it now, coiled to strike, hissing and rattling at Bob. “Bob, stay! Don’t move.” He found the head of a rattlesnake too small a target, so he got down from the bed and began inching his way toward the fireplace. The snake became aware of him and struck in his direction, but short.

Stone found time to wonder at the size of the thing; it was at least a five-footer. He made a leap for the fireplace and got hold of the poker. When the snake turned its attention to Bob again, Stone stepped forward and swung at its head. He felt a shock like connecting with a golf ball, and the snake began writhing uncontrollably. It took him half a dozen swings to connect with the head again, and then the reptile gave up and lay there, twitching. Bob approached it cautiously, then jumped back when it twitched again.