Free The Eye of Moloch by Glenn Beck

to his thoughts.

Chapter 10

    T hough his sleep had been troubled, it had served its purpose. After such a lengthy day of rest, in fact, Hollis felt he might never need another.
    When the escort Cathy Merrick had offered failed to arrive in due time he decided to venture out on his own.
    The hallway was spacious and meticulously rustic, all hardwoods and polish with native art hung here and there and simple Shaker furnishings. An old grandfather clock stood watch in a narrow alcove. Next to the clock was an oil painting of some stern pioneer who’d survived Red Cloud’s War only to be reluctantly captured in canvas and hung up in a gilded frame.
    At the far end of the hall the space opened out into a soaring log-framed atrium with several cozy sitting areas, well-stocked bookshelves, and a massive fieldstone fireplace that easily spanned twelve feet from end to end. This all engendered a homespun, welcoming atmosphere that nevertheless carried more the feel of a fine country hotel than a private residence.
    He found Molly’s suite near the corner. The door had been left halfopen; she was seated at a mirrored vanity near the far wall, facing away, wrapped in a woolly plaid dressing gown. Two older women attended to her, one fixing her hair in a braided ponytail while the other held her hands and finessed a long-neglected manicure. They didn’t notice him as they fussed and smiled and spoke among themselves, and he didn’t interrupt. For the moment he knew all he needed to; she was fine.
    When Hollis looked to the atrium again he saw a young man of maybe sixteen years, sitting off alone in the corner of the large space. He was slumped down in a reclining posture, feet up on the burl-oak slab of a coffee table, completely absorbed in the content of an animated screen in his hands. On the assumption that this was the boy assigned to be his guide, he walked over and sat nearby.
    “Are you Tyler?”
    “Hold on.”
    The big-screen cell phone the boy was interacting with was more visible from this distance. He was playing a game, it appeared, dragging and tapping with a finger to slingshot cartoon birds toward a series of breakable structures.
    Hollis watched and waited through another similar level or two, and then, seeing no intent in the boy to stop what he was doing, he got up to leave. “I don’t mean to be a bother,” he said. “I can show myself around.”
    “Jesus, just a second,” the boy huffed. “I’ll be right with you, okay?” He sighed and went through a quick procedure to save his progress and put the device into standby. “She told me to give you the tour, so I’d better give you the tour. I really don’t need my mom any further up my ass today.”
    The impulse to apply a swift discipline to another person’s offspring had rarely been stronger, but for a couple of weak reasons Hollis simply took a deep, cleansing breath and put it aside. Despite the boy’s offhanded discourtesy to his absent mother, Hollis was reluctant to spoil his still-sunny mood by calling out the offense. Also, he was a guest, and it might test the bounds of hospitality to start a conversation that couldeasily end in a headlock. So he let it pass and only followed as the boy tucked away his phone and walked on ahead.
    “If you’re sure it’s not too much trouble for you,” Hollis said.
    “Don’t get too excited, bro,” Tyler replied. “There’s not that much to see.”
    •   •   •
    The most expensive home in America is not in New York, or Honolulu, or Beverly Hills, but in Wyoming. This wasn’t that home, Tyler was quick to note, but the once-humble Merrick ranch was regularly in and out of the top ten whenever such lists were compiled.
    As they walked, through a series of one-word answers and bored descriptions from his guide Hollis was gradually able to glean a better understanding of the place and the people who lived there.
    The boy’s ancestors had made their substantial fortune in cattle, mineral