by E C Hunter
“Very clever of you to notice Miss Murphy, but at least it’s a little less crunchy.” Archie set the pan on the flattened fire. Within a few minutes it was steaming and then boiling. “Rolling boil for four minutes, that should kill all the little nasties. Can you time it? I’m pants at things like that.” Milly looked at her watch. While they waited Archie sterilised the Pepsi can in the flames, ready to take the boiled water. They repeated the exercise until they had both had a can full of water and there was another can ready to take with them.
All this time the Sasquatch family sat patiently watching and waiting some distance off. There had been some consternation when the fire had been lit, a slight keening but other than that they had been unobtrusive. So unobtrusive in fact that Archie began to understand how these creatures could have remained unobserved for so long. They practically meted into their environment.
Archie sat watching them, (as well as sneaking the odd secret look at Milly) while they waited for the water to cool. As he watched they seem to vanish before his eyes, they just sank into the undergrowth, it scarcely seemed possible. Too late Archie realised why. A horse was walking softly along the dusty track, just a few metres from their hiding place. Milly looked at him with terror in her eyes.
Chapter 22
The soft step of the horse ceased. There was a slight jangling of harness and the creak of leather, followed by the unmistakable double thump of someone dismounting. The sound carried clearly to them in the still, heavy air and froze them to the spot. An odd sound floated to them, the jingly little tune of a flip phone opening. This was followed by a quiet ‘damn’.
“No signal” whispered Milly. Archie nodded. Milly pointed towards Archie’s pack. She mouthed the word ‘rifle’. Archie nodded again and undid the rifle’s securing strap. He pulled the stubby weapon from its transport position, automatically checking the chamber was empty. Safety had been drilled into him from an early age. He took two of the shiny, fat cartridges from the elastic band on the stock and pressed them into the magazine, held them down and closed the bolt over them. This meant that the rifle was not loaded but simply by flicking the bolt backwards and forwards he could chamber a cartridge in a moment. He hoped to God that he didn’t have to.
The feet shuffled slightly on the dusty track, the hard soles of the man’s boots grinding and ticking on small stones. A match flared and the sulfurous smell reached them moments later. The man lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. Milly wrinkled her nose at the foul odour of the rank tobacco. The horse wasn’t too fond of the smell either; it whickered and tossed its head. Archie took the opportunity of the noise to drop on to his belly and slide forward towards the man. He was perfectly screened by a stand of snowberry and was able to edge forward, the rifle resting in the crooks of his elbows, pushing with his toes, until the man was visible between the stalks. The man was all cowboy. Odd, thought Archie for this part of the Canada. The man finished his smoke and ground the butt into the dust with one of his expensively tooled cowboy boots. As he turned Archie was able to glimpse the man’s face. He knew it! Knew that face. How? Certainly not from the last few days, not from real life. And then it came to him, he knew with a certainty where he had seen this cowboy. It was Manhunter. It was Clyde Burke. Archie’s heart sank. They were caught for sure. One of the few TV shows that Archie religiously watched was Manhunter. Every week some pair of unfortunates were pitted against the almost supernatural tracking skills of this man. He and a local guide would pursue them on horseback over two days and almost invariably would catch them.
The introduction to the programme would always trumpet the man’s abilities, his skills in tracking escaped prisoners and how his abilities have helped find fleeing criminals, lost children and missing hikers. Archie could only conclude that Milly’s father had employed him to find his daughter. His brain did a short hop. Surely not. Could it be that his own father had escaped and employed Manhunter to find them? As if the man had read his thoughts his familiar voice rose in the still air.
“Archie, Archie Hunter. You can come out now. Magnus, your father sent me to find you and Milly. He’s safe and wants you to come back with me.” Archie’s immediate reaction was to rush to the man and get back to his dad. He was just about to stand when he felt a hand grip his ankle. Looking back he saw Milly shaking her head and holding a shushing finger to her lips. The look in her eyes said clearly ‘don’t argue with me’. Archie didn’t. The sound of another horse arriving at speed cut short their exchange.
“Hell Louis, you’ve scuffed up the whole trail.”
“Boss, I’ve found where one of them had the squits, it’s back along that way.”
“Show me.” The man swung up onto his horse with a creak of leather and the pair rode off kicking up a cloud of dust.
Archie went weak with relief and it was a few moments before he could stand. Milly took his hand and rubbed it gently.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, thanks. You know who that was?”
“Uh huh, Clyde Burke, he’s a buddy of my dad.”
“No way! Hell, it’s a good job you stopped me standing up. Thank God I didn’t have to shoot him either. Can you imagine the hoo haa!” Milly laughed.
“Hoo haa, you said it boy.” She brushed his cheek gently with soft lips and smiled an inscrutable smile, dark eyes sparkling.
“I didn’t even spot his mistake” said Archie, heart still racing, more from the kiss than the close shave if truth were known. “How would my father have known you were with me?”
“We need a new plan, if the horrible horseman is on our case we can’t go near the tracks, we’ll have to keep to the trees”. Milly considered for a moment and then added “I’ve got the bones of an idea but we’ve got to turn the tables on Mister Manhunter. Let’s back track and keep an eye on him.” Archie, stuck for any other idea, agreed.
“The question is” said Milly “will they think I’m running away or heading home. I’d say they’ll think I’m still on the run, not trying to head home. Plus, they can’t possibly be certain we’re together”
“What about our friends?” Archie gestured towards the spot where the Sasquatches has disappeared.
“We don’t really want them around for what I’ve got in mind Milly said mysteriously. Come on, get your stuff.”
Chapter 23
The long summer evening was fading into dusk when Milly and Archie finally caught up with the trackers. Fearless of being detected they had built a fire and were sitting on stumps drinking whisky from the bottle. Their horses were tethered some distance away, the saddles and bridles removed and stowed in the bushes. The men both had bedrolls spread out in anticipation of nightfall.
“What now?” whispered Archie.
“We wait.” Milly answered in a tone which suggested no further discussion was necessary.
The men drank on and told interminable tales of bravery and heroism, each one longer and more far-fetched than the last. By eleven the bottle was empty and the men were yawning. Archie was dozing but Milly was wired like a terrier with the scent of a rat in its nostrils. The men got up to pee, didn’t clean their teeth Milly noted disgustedly and crawled into their bedrolls.
Milly waited another hour and a half until she was utterly confident that Burke and his sidekick were sound asleep before she kicked Archie lightly into sensibility and explained what they were going to do.
They walked openly towards the horses, Milly indicating the one which Archie should approach. Milly has spent some of their lying up time assessing which of the animals was the most docile and had chosen that one for Archie. Milly stood in front of her horse and stroked its muzzle, letting her scent into its nostrils, calming it, soothing it. Archie followed suit and gentled his horse. Milly had decided that trying to put on the bridles would be too likely to rouse the sleepers so the easiest course of action would be to slip the saddles on, pile the girth and bridle on top and lead the horses away to a safe distance before cinching everything up.
In the dying light of the camp fire and the sparse tree-filtered moonlight Archie crept towards the saddle bags. Two sets, of bags, two hands. As his hand touched the nearest bag his mind suddenly and unexpectedly put up a warning – this is theft, you’re not a thief! The hesitation caused him to fumble his grip on the bag. It fell to the ground, a bottle of whisky rolled out and clinked against a rock. Archie ducked down into the shadows and froze. There was a semi-conscious groan from one of the men. Archie waited for a few moments, grabbed the bag and went back to his horse as fast as he dared. Milly gave him a small shake of the head and led the way. All the time they were expecting the angry shout or the sound the men running through the brush. Each time they snapped a branch or some piece of harness jangled they would anxiously glance over their shoulders.
After an eternity Milly decided that they were far enough away from the camp to risk saddling up. It took them a few moments as they were both experienced, Milly mounted with the ease of familiarity, Archie was a little slower. As he threw his leg over the saddle as vice-like grip fastened around his other ankle. Archie shouted with shock. Milly looked back and immediately summed up the situation. The men hadn’t shouted, hadn’t reacted with histrionics. They had simply followed them, quietly and professionally and made a grab for them when they were at their most vulnerable. While they were mounting up. Louis had misjudged the grab for Milly but Burke had grabbed at Archie like a mamba, swift, strong and accurate.
Only now did he speak and it wasn’t with spite or venom, almost kindly.
“OK young fella, nice try but off you get. We’re going take you and your lady friend to see her father. But don’t you worry, your pappy’s there too.” He smiled a twisted smile in the semi darkness of the moonlit forest. Without conscious thought Milly hauled on her reins, brought her horse around, grabbed the head collar of Archie horse and kicked hers into flight. The other horse responded instantly to the challenge and joined in the crazy gallop though the trees. Archie’s ankle was torn painfully from the man’s grasp and within a moment they were free. Milly slowed the horse to a walk and Archie fell in beside her. They looked back and could just make out the men standing watching them.
“That was easy” said Milly with a slight note of sarcasm to her voice.
“Yeah, sorry about that” Archie apologised but didn’t feel too sorry, the weight of the saddle bags was pressing against his back, reassuring him that there would be something to eat very soon. “So you won’t be wanting to share some of my plunder then?” he asked.
“Weeell, I could be persuaded, but you’ll have to be very nice to me, seeing as how I rescued you an all.”
Archie smiled in the darkness, he felt good, invincible. They could do anything, cope with anything. They were a team, a unit.
“Let’s get a couple of miles down the way and have a look at the loot.” They kicked their horses into a trot and put some distance between themselves and their pursuers.
Chapter 24
The first glimmer of dawn was turning the sky from deepest blue to a sickly shade of green when Archie and Milly finally decided to make a halt. Apart from collecting their own baggage they had not paused. There was no way that the now pedestrian men could catch them. They dismounted and led the horses far off the track and into the maples. After making the horses secure Archie handed Milly one of the saddle bags and took the other himself. In the half-light they examined the contents. Yet another bottle of whisky, a decent knife, quite a lot of home-made jerky – probably moose Milly thought. There were two good sized old fashioned water canteens, the round kind with the sides insulated with blanket. Archie sloshed them around, almost full he noted with some satisfaction.
In one of the bags was quite a lot of chocolate which they scoffed down without pause while they were rifling through the other bag. A note book and pen, the tinkly flip phone (now with flat battery), a spare lead rein, a packet of .38 calibre revolver cartridges (worrying), a Mini-flare set, a bottle of Tylenol (Archie took two straight away), a Woodsman’s Pal brush hook, a Sabre Cut hand chain saw, a first aid kit and a host of smaller but no less useful items. It was a treasure trove. Archie and Milly both felt a surge of optimism at their spoils. Milly was a little contrite, now realising what a difference it would make to them.
“Archie, I’m sorry I was cross at you, even if you took a huge risk. All’s well that ends well.”
“I, er, want to thank you and apologise.” Muttered Archie. “thank you for helping me back there and sorry about taking such a risk.” He looked across at Milly, slightly embarrassed. Archie expected her to casually laugh off his remark but to his surprise she also looked slightly embarrassed.
“It was my pleasure Archie, thank you.” Milly’s answer was uncharacteristically coy. She changed tack at once. “We’d better get going. Reckon we can hit Ingonish by nightfall, lay up until everyone’s asleep and then bingo, we’ll spring your dad.”
“Sounds like a plan to me.” Answered Archie, glad to escape the awkward moment. The pair led their horses back to the track and remounted. Milly set off at a walk and Archie kicked his horse up to follow. He drew up along-side and they settled in toe against toe. The horses felt good under them and the prospect of a day in the saddle was a joyous thing.
“Wonder where the Sasquatch family went?” Milly mused.
“They weren’t taking any chances with those two Muppet's around, you’ve got to hand it to them, they know what’s what. Wouldn’t mind betting they’re not far away though.”
“Probably watching us right now” agreed Milly. “Bet they know how to use the wind too so as not to spook the horses.” Archie did not reply, deep in thought. Eventually he spoke.
“What if the other guy has a phone, we didn’t think of that.”
“They can’t know where we are.” Milly didn’t sound worried.
“But they’ll guess we’ll head towards where they’re keeping my dad surely? They could call up reinforcements too – your brothers for instance.” Archie saw Milly blanch slightly at the prospect and then pull herself together. Not for the first time Archie was amazed by this girls’ inner strength. It made him feel slightly naïve and unworldly.
“We’ll just have to be alert then, won’t we? Want to trot?” Without looking at him she clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and squeezed her heels into the horse’s flanks. Archie had no choice but to follow. Trotting was not the gait he would never choose, he had never quite mastered the art of settling in to the rhythm of the horse. Archie’s arms and legs were jiggling like a puppet on its tenth espresso. Milly looked back and immediately burst into helpless laughter and had to slow her horse to a walk so as not to fall off. “OK Woody, we’ll walk.”
“I’ll have you know I’m an expert horseman, only I’m more used to leading them than riding them.”
“Oh yes, perhaps now’s a good time for you to explain your gabons and ladders.”
“Garrons and Larders” Archie smiled, just thinking about home gave him some cheer. “Well, it goes like this, we’ve got a piece of land, amongst other things it’s covered in deer.”
“Whitetails?” Milly interrupted.
“No we don’t have them, these are red deer, a close cousin of your elk, but not as big. Every year we have to cull a certain percentage or else they start to damage the habitat. Last year we shot about a hundred and sixty stags and two hundred hinds.” Milly whistled.
“Hind is a doe
yeah?”
“Well, we only call roe and fallow deer does, reds and sika we call hinds. Anyway as our ground is quite steep and dad is a bit of a traditionalist we use ponies, called garrons, to bring the carcases in. A lot of estates use things Like Argocats and quads for carcase extraction. We try not to as they leave wheel marks that can last a hundred years or more. Plus ponies can go pretty much anywhere you can walk.
“Just rewind a bit here my deer mad buddy.” Interrupted Milly. “So you say you have to shoot over three hundred deer a year and this is only a surplus, right?”
“Right.”
“So allowing that you’ve got 50 percent females that mean you’ve got to shoot pretty much half the population every year?”
“No, more like a third, you’ve got to allow for natural wastage too.”
“Got it, what I’m getting to is that you must have a hell of a lot of deer on your land?”
“Well, yes” Something is Milly’s tone made Archie slightly cautious.
“So that means you must have quite a big farm yeah?”
“Well, technically it’s not a farm, it’s an estate, we don’t grow any crops and apart from a few sheep we don’t keep any livestock. It’s mainly mountains, water, heather, trees and bog.”
“How big Scotty?” Milly pressed him. Archie was immediately on the defensive but hesitantly told her.
“As estates go it’s about average, it’s er, 28, 000 acres. Well, at least home is, then there’s the forestry holdings in the Scottish borders, they come to about another 20,000 acres and there’s about 2000 acres in Spain, but that’s owned by a bunch of aunts. So I guess in total we’ve got around 50,000 acres.” Archie fell silent, feeling somehow slightly embarrassed by this fact.
“Phew.” Milly had a strange look in her eye. “Is it valuable?”
“Well, I guess home isn’t that valuable when you compare it with a house in London or somewhere, the forestry is worth a bit more. I don’t know about Spain.”
