Distinctly Montana Magazine

w w w. d i s t i n c t ly m o n ta n a . c o m 23 LItErary LoDE LItErary LoDE DEpartmENt LItErary LoDE B ret grunted as he hoisted himself over the last spiny outcrop to his favorite lookout spot atop Mt. Ellis. His shirt was damp despite the usual chill of a mountain morning, and the early sun was just now stroking his face; its sensation, he thought oddly, a bit like a fresh, towel from his home dryer. The thought somehow calmed him, reminded him that, no matter what was to come, the smell and feel of a warm towel would always seem normal, comforting, like man- made sunshine. He had left at first light because they were looking for him now, hunting him actually. He knew that without a doubt after last night's newscast where they reported a search using the video recording of the mini-mart, zero- ing in on that time when his entire world changed. "Max, come here," he called over to his scruffy Aire- dale, the dog's nose buried in a small crack in the rock, snuffling loudly as he inhaled a scent which had peaked his canine interest…a cowering squirrel or quivering bunny, or whatever scented remembrance they had left behind. With a final snort, Max jumped atop the table rock and plop-sat at Bret's feet, looking up expectantly for the treat which was always their custom when they reached what he called "the throne," a royal vantage of all that lay far below, though today the vista made him feel isolated, more like an outcast or a prisoner. He wasn't sure which. Bret sat down beside Max, rubbing the inside of his ear with one hand, then cupping his hands and clumsily pouring him a drink of water, followed by a chaser of jerky which was big enough to keep him chewing for a bit. He lifted the water bottle and took a long drink, head up, his battered Simms fishing cap teetered back, its beak uplifted to the sky like a bird anxious to take flight. Wiping his mouth with his sleeve he looked out on the valley he called home. The university field house was clearly visible, basking its gray shell in the rapid rise of morning light. His gaze shifted toward the downtown, which seemed yet peaceful, its location mapped by the tightening of the street grid as his eyes moved from the Buyer'S remorSe Story by bILL muhLENfELD

• Cover