Sam’s image wasn’t particularly flattering. No wonder the clerk hid this one from her boss.

In addition to Sam’s sketch, there was one of Roy, a woman I didn’t recognize, and a fourth, probably a self-portrait—a face mostly hidden in darkness. All of the portraits were off somehow, capturing enough of the likeness to be identifiable, but not totally accurate when it came to the faces I knew.

The remaining drawings were of her dogs beside a stream, and two landscapes. Underneath all the sketches were a check and note. The check was from Gem Mountain Bank and had a full name and address—Mae Haas, PO Box 12, Targhee Falls, Idaho. Account closed was stamped across the check. Mae Haas. Shadow Woman.

The typewritten note was equally unhelpful.

Sam, Im moved to Pocatello. Heres what i owe you.

Returning the drawings, check, and note to their folder, I added them to the bag. I grabbed up my camera, called the dogs to follow, and tramped back to the lodge. No one had arrived yet. Wandering into the as-yet unlocked art room, I looked for a place to store my things.

All the locker doors had been opened, and many of the Mule Shoe backpacks tossed to the floor. My locker was untouched. I stuffed my things into the backpack and stepped back to see the results. The backpack still looked empty. Perfect. Hiding in plain sight.

I took one last look around. Something was bothering me, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

Returning outside, I found Dee Dee Denim and Golden Girl Grace in deep conversation with Teddy and Nona. No sign of Riccardo. I wondered if he would stay in their cabin as his dad demanded. Somehow that seemed unlikely. Hiding my wallet and other things in the soon-to-be-locked art room had been a good decision.

We were joined by Madam Sparkles and a distinguished-looking older gentleman, both looking like they had stepped out of an REI catalog. Several other class members wandered over.

Cookie joined us and handed out sheets of paper. “After your class, you can take advantage of some of our other activities. This is a list. Look it over and if something appeals to you, mark it, write your name on the paper, and give it to me. I’ll get it all set up for you.”

I read my copy. The first item made my hand sweaty. Horseback riding. I’m not ready for that yet. Gold panning. Nature hike. Target practice. Star gazing. Now I was shaking. Two PTSD triggers on a single sheet of paper. I quietly folded the list and stuffed it in my pocket.

Angie arrived and began handing out sketchpads and pencil tins. “Ready, everyone?” She didn’t wait for a response but set out at a brisk pace along a marked path to the right of the lodge.