Boy Scout Explorers at Headless Hollow

A weary band of Boy Scout Explorers rolls out of the New Mexico Rockies, eager to trade the rugged trails of Philmont for the comfort of home. Their leader, Hap Livingston, a former FBI man turned Scout captain, drives a dented sedan with four teenage scouts—boisterous War, quick‑witted Willie, level‑headed Jack, and steady Ken—chattering about gold finds and campfire stories. The long, pine‑lined road stretches into dusk, and the group debates where to make their first night’s camp before the night’s chill catches up.

They pull into the sleepy town of Rocking Horse, a dusty stop with just a handful of adobe homes and a rundown motel that seems to have been forgotten by time. The innkeeper, an older man in a weathered Stetson, greets them with a wary smile and a curious glance at Jack’s uniform, prompting a brief exchange about the meaning of the BSA patch. As the scouts set up their tents under the low‑hanging pine, an uneasy feeling settles over the clearing, hinting that the hills beyond may hold more than just the echo of their laughter.