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Each of them inspected the feather with something like reverence. After Chance handed it back to Tom, everyone fell silent.
"What do we need to do with it?" I asked.
That started everyone talking. Questions and ideas were thrown out, discussed, and dismissed more quickly than I could keep up. The sun had started to set, and I was getting cold. Chance saw me rubbing my arms.
"Let's take the feather inside and figure out our next steps. City Girl looks like she's freezing."
"It took a minute for Jim and Tom to realize he was talking about me. I didn't love the nickname, but I wouldn't give Chance the satisfaction of showing that.
Inside, Chance took the feather and laid it across the sofa bed in his office.
"We obviously can't keep that thing in a safety deposit box," he said, coming back downstairs.
"The way y'all are acting, I'm pretty sure you think that feather came from a cryptid. What is it?"
"Probably a thunderbird," Chance said. "Sometimes people call them Teratorns."
That led to questions about whether the bird was flying around free or kept at the compound somehow. The discussion went round and round with the same questions I had about the whole cryptid thing in general.
"I understand that cryptid hunters want to find proof that these animals exist. We have proof. What do we do with it?"
Ideas ran from taking it to Chance's friend at the university to building a local place to display it to bring people into Wilkins’ Gap. Someone suggested taking photos and posting them on Facebook or Instagram.
"Wait," I said, feeling like my head might explode from all the things we discussed. "I need some time, guys. There's too many pieces to this puzzle. I want a chance to check out Harry's finances. I need some time to digest all of this."
"She's right," Jim said. "We should take time to think this all through. We need to decide what to do with the feather and what to do about the government facility."
"I want to check out this government cryptid hunting agency my dad mentioned in his letter—BITES, the Biological Investigation and Threat Eradication Service. I want to see if it's a real thing or a hoax."
"For now, this all stays between the four of us, right?" Jim said. "I'll lock the letters and the tape in the safe deposit box with the rest."
As everyone started packing up their stuff, Tom said, "Just call us when you're ready to plan the next part of this. It's a lot to digest."
Chance and I walked out on the porch with them as they left. Jim stopped beside me. "Call if you need anything? Or just call me," he said and headed to his SUV. Tom followed Jim out, stopping to give me a hug. He whispered in my ear. "Remember our deal."
Once they were gone, Chance and I headed back inside. "Want me to make something for dinner while we talk?" I asked.
"I can make something for you if you want. You don't have to take care of me."
"I know, but I like to cook, and I'm getting hungry. What were you planning to make for dinner?"
"I've got stuff for pasta and meat sauce."
"Great. Sit down and put your leg up." He pulled one kitchen chair in front of another, sat down, and propped his cast on the other chair.
I stayed because he said he had something to talk to me about, but he didn't say anything for a long time. I glanced over my shoulder and could tell he was deep in thought.
"What did you want to talk about?"
"Sorry. I keep thinking of more questions about what you guys saw and everything. I guess now we know where that sign you found came from. I have a proposition for you."
I turned and looked at him with my eyebrows raised.
"Not this weekend, but the weekend after, I'm going to a Bigfoot convention. I try to hit a few each year. I'll have a table where I advertise my guide business."
"There's really a convention for cryptid hunters?"
"Several. Most states that have ever had a Bigfoot sighting, have one. This one's in Montana."
He didn't say anything else for a couple of minutes. I glanced at him as I browned the hamburger for the sauce. He looked nervous.
"I wondered if you might want to come along. I think it might be good for you to meet some other people in the cryptid world so you know it isn't just something in the water in Wilkins’ Gap. You could share my table space and advertise Hairy's Cryptid Cafe. There'll be a lot of folks there who knew your uncle."
"You're asking me to go away with you for a weekend?"
"Uhm. Well, technically, yes. I guess I am."
It was fun to see the great hunter flustered. I needed to find ways to do that more often. It made me feel like we were on a more level footing.
"That sounds great. I've been thinking that if I'm going to keep the cafe name the same, I really need to find ways to capitalize on it from the marketing side. And you're right. I'd like to see more of the cryptid hunting world."