Quadruple Impressionism

It was Saturday, January 10, and the lengthy investigations by the U.S. Marshals were finally over. The Marshals had been polite, but very formal, and quite thorough. It was obvious that they had a very difficult time figuring out what really transpired at the Mitscher Ranch, but they also seemed to have a leaning to more natural explanations than the encounters that McCloud, Cannon and Ashford had experienced. There had also been the issue of establishing themselves in the Mitscher Ranch, renovating the building, and thinking of future business endeavors. Fortunately, help arrived in the shape of Harris Tweed, a mining engineer who preferred the name "Harry". He seemed skilled, albeit rather rough around the edges, and more than willing to tell off the lazy and inept. Esteban was also hired as a security guard and general assistant, while nurse Pettenkoffer was hired to keep future miners in good health. The three books that the investigators found in the Mitscher Ranch posed a particular challenge, as they were found to be deteriorating, slowly but surely. Lotus Ashford decided to look around the county for a photographer, and he founds a certain Joseph Mulroney, a sensitive young man who worked as a photographer to support his ambitious artistic endeavors. He attempted to photograph the pages, but the writing did not leave any imprint whatsoever on the plates, so it was decided to hire Mulroney to copy the texts by hand. Joseph Mulroney was more than eager to take on the job. 

Joseph Mulroney

It was now decided to scout the mountain that seemed to have been housing those flying monstrosities that had caused such mayhem. It was quite stiff hike to get up the mountainside, and much to their dismay, McCloud, Ashford, Cannon and Pettenkoffer only found a quite significant landslide. Judging from the lack of vegetation, it seemed to have occurred fairly recently, and the intrepid investigators could only speculate as to what might be hidden beneath the tons and tons of rocks and gravel.

  

Harris "Harry" Tweed

The investigators came back to the Mitscher Ranch just before sunset, and they were more than ready for a hearty dinner. As Lotus Ashford took the first bite of Harry Tweed's hearty but bland dishes, he made a note to himself regarding hiring a decent cook for the ranch. However, Harry also had some news, as a young lady had called upon the ranch looking for Frank Cannon. She left a calling card bearing the name of "Anna Gnospelius", and not much more. She had apparently inquired about an issue of transportation. It was agreed to seek out Anna next morning.  

The aforementioned morning was the opening act for yet another striking winter day in New Mexico. McCloud, Cannon and Ashford took their trusty bus into town to find out where Ms. Anna Gnospelius might be found. It turned out that she and her sisters were renting a ranch, more specifically the Pinetree Ranch just south of Lincoln. The ranch turned out to be freshly renovated, and it was painted white with pink and green details, all in a romantic New England-style that seemd very welcoming, yet out of place in New Mexico. The three sisters Gnospelius seemed equally out of place: gorgeous, well-mannered, oddly coordinated in speech and action, and very, very gregarious. The intrepis investigators were invited into the ranch house for tea, although McCloud decided to stay outddors while muttering something about "taking care of business". The circumstances did seem to bother Bill McCloud quite a bit, and it took him a good half hour before he decided to step into the ranch. 

Emily, Anna and Dorothy Gnospelius.

According to the sisters, they had rented the Pinetree Ranch for an art project. You see, they are all painters, and with the help of their manservant Benson, they were going to enjoy the winter in New Mexico by capturing the state, its inhabitants, and its stunning nature on canvas. As a matter of fact, a collector in Albuquerque, Mr. Wright, had already purchased four of their paintuings, and thay all wanted to know if Mr. Cannon might be able to drive the paintings to Albuquerque for a generous compensation? The impressionist paintings were done in thick layers of oil paint, and they depicted scenes from the Santo Domingo Gorge. This was a place name that made McCloud shudder. It was in that God-forsaken gorge that the Turner twins, Eliza and Mildred, disappeared, and McCloud had takein part in the search. Only Mildred was found, and she had lost her ability to speak, being entirely catatonic. Regardless, four sizeable paintings were placed in sturdy wooden containers and lifted into the bus. It was decided to depart next morning, January 12.

The bus was packed with a generous amount of supplies, and with Frank Cannon at the wheel, McCloud in the passengers' seat, and Ashford in the pack, the investigators drove down from the mountain range and onto the road to Albuqueque that would take them through the White Sands salt flats. After several hours on the road, the investigators noticed a thin layer of reddish sand in the vehicle, which irritated Frank more than a little. He preferred his vehicles clean, and in good shape. Frank Cannon stopped the vehicle and they all started looking where the sand might come from. It seemed as if the two shipping cretaes that contained the artwork also seemed to have included a small amount of sand, and it was decided to move the boxes to the roof of the bus.

By now, the sun was already low on the horizon, and it also seemed as if Frnk had left the road itself and driven out onto the salt flats. The intrepid investigators decided to set up camp for the evening, but also to mount a guard. As Lotus Ashford began his shift in the middle of the night, he couldn't help gazing up at the fantastic New Mexico night sky. After a couple of minutes, he also noticed a faint hissing sound, like sand flowing through an hour glass, or in this case, sand pouring out of the art boxes and onto the bus roof at a most alarming rate. Lotus really didn't know what to do, so he bolted down to wake up his compatriots. As Lotus scrambled down the skinny ladder, he saw movement in the passenger compartment amongst his sleeping friends. Were they experiencing a particularly restless bout of sleep? It seemed as if there was almost perpetual movement underneath their blankets.

Meanwhile, Frank Cannon was experiencing disturbing dreams of someone, or something, reaching for his thigh, and he reached down to brush off the unwelcome presence. He was horrified to abruptly wake up holding a thick white-ish snake in his right hand, fangs bared and ready to strike. His many years with venomous criminals paid off as he flung the writhing serpent into the driver's seat. He then immediately bolted out of the bus. McCloud woke up when Ashford staring telling about the snakes, snakes that seemed to be eveywhere, and with even more sliding down from the ceiling. Several of the venemous creatures were crawling on McCloud, and he pulled off his hunting knife, chopping the head off one of the serpents, but a second snale lunged and buried his sharp fangs in McCloud's lower left arm.

By now, all three of the investigators were outside the bus, and carrying lanterna and torches. The writhing mass of snakes seemed to shy away from the light, although McCloud did notice that the snakes did  not seem to be of any known North American variety. It came as no surprise that both snakes and sand seemed to emanate from the boxes containing the paintings, and Frank Cannon pulled them down as Ashford and McCloud kept the serpents at bay. McCloud was in some pain now, and feeling quite nauseous, despite the valiant attempts of his friends to treat the incision from the snake. Without further ceremony, the investigators torched both boxes and paintings, and within a minute there was a mighty fire, a fire that on occasion produced strange colors and sounds and the paintings were incinerated. Bill McCloud though for a second that he saw the face of Eliza Turner, the young girl that had diasappeared in the Santo Domingo Gorge last fall. By now, the snakes had crawled off into the night, avoiding the flames at all cost.

Several questions remained, though: what were these strange snakes (McCloud had kept a dead specimen for further study)? Who was this Mr. Wright, the art collector? What was going on with the Gnospelius sisters? Could an antidote be found to heal Bill McCloud's snake bite?