Cowgirl Thrillers

by Barbara Neville

We climb once again out of the meadows and wind up into the tree line. By late afternoon we top out in a pass. Below us is an open grassy park with copses of trees around the edges and along the creek. There is fog laying in the bottoms.

  Smoke rises from a side draw.

  “Here we are.”

  “Here we are? Where? I don’t see nothin’ but open range.”

  “Wolf’s ‘open’ range, as you say,” says Spud.

  Wolf leads us down the trail.

  “Hey ya.” A long haired woman in buckskins steps into the trail ahead of Wolf. He hops off, leans down and hugs her then remounts and gives her an arm up behind his saddle.

  I look at enquiringly at Sir Jacob who has pulled up beside me. He says, “That, Annie, is Wolf’s mother, Coati Chaser.”

  We trot on down the draw. When we get out into the flat we come upon a giant white dog who comes over the check us out. Coati Chaser talks to her, but she looks behind us and growls.

  Sir Jacob turns his head back the way the dog is looking and says, “I’ll be bloody damned, the bitch is still with us.”

  Spud looks around. “Sure ‘nough, thought she ditched us at the root cellar.”

  Sir Jacob agrees, “I haven’t seen her all day either.”

  “Annie see her,” says Wolf.

  “Yeah, I talked to her when I got off to pee. Guess you boys weren’t gawkin’ after all.”

  The white dog goes over. She and the bitch raise their hackles and do the growl and paw routine.

  “They work it out,” says Wolf.

  I can see the white dog’s partner on the other side of a sheep herd that is just moving into sight.

  “Pair runs this bunch all by their selves,” says Wolf.

  “Fine lookin’ guardian dogs,” I say as we continue down the trail.

  We circle down through the thick trees and turn up the side draw where I spot smoke. Hours of drizzle have wet us down and softened us up, the rising smoke has a magnetic attraction for us.

  We come into a ring of three beautifully painted teepees. Camp is all set up with a cooking tripod over the central fire, A-frame drying racks with meat a jerkin’, hides stretched on hoops. There’s a corral for ponies and other stock with a hollow log stock tank. Windmill, solar panels. Wolf pulls up and Coati slides off his horse.

  I look over at Wolf’s face, snug under the hood of his intestine rain poncho. “A real beauty of a camp setup, Wolf. Yours?”

  “Unh unh.” Wolf shakes his head, flinging water in all directions. “Coati Chaser camp. Wolf have teepee here.”

  We get off our horses, Spud and Sir Jacob unpack and rush the panniers inside while Wolf and I unsaddle and loose the bunch. We grab our tack and duck in out of the drizzle.

  I am so fucking happy to be in out of the rain which is now starting to pound on the teepee skin. My legs are cramped, I am more than damp, the rain has crept up my arms, my sleeves are soaked to the elbows. My chaps kept most of the weather out, but around the edges a cold wet has crept in from the wind blowing my slicker off of them. I am cold and wet to the skin in enough places to be shivering. Thank the gods I have a warm horse who heated me all the hours of the afternoon. And now, after the outdoor chores, a warm teepee to rest my trail weary bones.

  “Starved too, hope there’s vittles,” I mutter.

  Wolf ignores my grouchiness and introduces me, “Mother, name Coati Chaser, this is my new friend Annie Talks To Horses.”

  Coati Chaser comes over and looks me carefully up and down. I feel like she is about to open my mouth and age me by the wear on my teeth. She just about does, pretty intense scrutiny, then she pronounces, “Annie Talks To Horses make good wife.”

  “Hey,” I exclaim.

  “Not worry. Wolf think so too,” says Wolf.

  “What the hell?” I look to Spud.

  “Coati Woman has spoken,” says Spud and goes over and wraps her in a big hug. “Hey, Ma, that girl is mine.”

  “What the fuck?” I gasp.

  “Close yore mouth Annie, not worry. Spud share with elder brother, you no lose me.”

  “Yes, Coati know all,” says Coati. A real shy flower this one.

  “Coati raised that pair,” says Sir Jacob, “and a right fair job she made of it. Taught them the importance of sharing.”

  Spud and Wolf both grin, stare at the floor and turn red in the face.

  “Sheeit!” I groan. They all laugh, even the stern looking Coati. Son of a bitch, maybe it was all a practical joke. Wife? No fucking way. I can barely put up with me myself.

  Wolf stirs up the coals and throws a log into the fire ring in the center of the teepee. Coati stirs the stew and moves it to the cooking fire, which is all coals.

  Sir Jacob and I arrange the wet saddles and blankets far enough out toward the edge of the teepee to be out of our way but still dry out from the warmth of the fire. Wolf inspects the panniers. “Good. Dry inside.”

  “Come,” says Coati. “Sit. Let us relax and wait for food to heat.” She busies herself with pots and things.

  Lightning strikes a tree outside, close enough our hair stands on end.

  “Glad this tempest didn’t strike earlier when we were out in it,” says Sir Jacob.

  “Are you all wet, too?” I ask. “I am the wettest I have been in a few, usually my slicker does the trick. It was that damn wind.”

  “It slipped in between my hat and collar and ran down my neck there at the end, sure glad the teepee was close,” says Spud. “The fire feels great, Ma.”

  “Old way better, Wolf dry,” Mr. Speaks-in-third-person says.

  “Wolf too tough to admit otherwise,” says Coati and smiles at him proudly..

  We are all settle around the fire, leaning on fur covered chair backs, roasting our cold fingers in the warm glow of the coals.

  “Many horses, my sons,” says Coati.

  “One gelding, three mares,” says Wolf.

  “Ah, praise the spirits.”

  “Mother like horses, good ones work for us and make babies, ones she not like we sell for money,” says Wolf as he lights a pipe.

  “Horse bring food. Horse bring all good things. Horse founder of civilization. All good things, horse, buffalo, sheep, cow, goat, make Injin strong,” corrects Coati, taking the proffered pipe.

  “Shame history didn’t stop at horses,” I agree, accepting the pipe from Coati.

  “Ah yes, the Industrial Revolution, the most important development in history? Or the most devastating horror the Cosmos has ever seen?” Sir Jacob ponders aloud.

  “Pardon me, Coati, I digress and bring bad thoughts to your teepee,” says Sir Jacob. “I will return to speaking of good things. My dearest Lady Beverly has sent a round of her mighty goat cheese for your larder.” He hands a cloth wrapped parcel to Coati Chaser.

  I lean over to Spud and ask, “Lady Beverly?”

  “Ah, you haven’t met the great Lady? Sir Jacobs’ mother. A true aristocrat, raises goats, makes fabulous farmstead cheese. Plus Coati milks her sheep. So we get both goat and sheep cheeses and mare’s cheese in season. Living in the lap of luxury.”

  Coati passes a bowl of cheese and bread around.

  “Fabulous. Coati’s home ground grains baked into bread, her sheep manchego and Lady Bev’s smoky cheddar,” murmurs Spud.

  We are pigging out again, with goat stew and taters as the main dish.

  “Damn, Michael would appreciate these frijoles, they from here?”

  “I grow them and the grain down at my place, longer season,” says Spud.

  “We winter the sheep down there too. Soon be time to head them down, ‘fore the cold weather closes in,” says Wolf.

  “Soon is after tomorrow,” says Coati.

  “Yes mother, if you say so, soon has arrived,” say Wolf and Spud more or less together.

  Sir Jacob looks at me, winks and says, “Coati actually runs this outfit, those boys just pretend to be in charge. Given time they may attain her wisdom.”

  Wolf and S
pud glare at Sir Jacob. He adds, “It may be a long time.”

  “Maybe you will too, old man,” jokes Spud.

  “Hell, she ain’t ready to loose the reins just yet,” says Wolf and winks at his mother. He has caught the winking disease too.

  “Young men may achieve wisdom in time, maybe not. Much still to learn from elders. First lesson, learn to listen.”

  “We listen occasionally,” says Spud. The boys exchange a glance.

  “But with elders being scarce and time short, we need a miracle,” says Spud.

  “Miracle, phht, ain’t no such thing,” I say.

  “Papers and maps we bring maybe help,” says Wolf and bows his head.

  “A miracle is what seems impossible, but happens anyway,” says Sir Jacob.

  “Yes, Injins need miracle,” says Wolf.

  “Miracles do happen,” says Spud. “Maybe just need some help happening.”

  “Indeed. Idealists don’t get much done, they mainly talk and dream, it takes manual labor, even brute force to finish the job,” says Sir Jacob.

  “Unfortunately, we seem to be the cannon fodder this week,” I add. “Thought I was smarter than that.”

  “According to Coati, you’ve fell in with the wrong bunch fer smarts,” says Spud.

  Wolf says, “We smartass, close enough.”

  Sir Jacob turns to me and says, “We had an adventure a few years back, bloody kids, Spud and Wolf were maybe 12-14 years old. In this world adulthood can sneak in real early. They were raised on the frontier though, like you and your stories of Triassic, even the 10 year olds might need to wield a rifle. The eight year olds stay busy reloading.

  “Things get tough, it must be done to survive. We all happened to be on the way into town to pick up supplies which were coming in on the annual cargo ship. We were coming down Badger Canyon into town from our various homes and camps, not really acquainted yet, but come to find out, of one mind.

  “The Federals were looking for some outlaws who had robbed the payroll from the ship and landed here to hide. They had already scoured the town with no results.

  “So being afoot and not horsemen of any kind, they set up a roadblock just outside of town. They told us if we had guns the outlaws would take them away and use them to kill us and then use them to fight the Federals.

  “So they ordered us all to surrender our weapons and go into town. For our own safety, they said.

  “You see, we disagreed with the first order. Those weapons were our safety. And the second order. Our homes were in the country with only us to defend them. We couldn’t abandon all our work, our livelihood for the outlaws to take, or even trash and burn to ashes.

  “We picked up our guns like they asked, but then rather than surrender we raised and fired them. Took them by surprise.

  “The young boys stepped up. It was Lady Beverly, Coati Chaser, myself and them, everyone else surrendered.

  “We are a fine example of a scruffy group who, working together, give each other the strength to carry on. We are much greater than the sum of our parts,” says Sir Jacob.

  Wolf looks up with that special light in his eyes and says, “It is what the first warrior said to the Great Spirit. I have told it before, but it bears repeating and it may be new for you Annie.

  “The first warrior looked out on the land that was his home. He saw the hills and the stars and he was happy. For giving him his home, the first warrior told the Great Spirit that he would fight and win many battles in his honor. But the Great Spirit said, ‘No, do not fight for me, fight for your tribe. Fight for your family which is born to you. Fight for the brothers you find. Fight for them,’ the Great Spirit said, ‘for they are your home.’

  “We have become a family and this has been our country since that day.

  “The people who surrendered their weapons? They live in town now. Fine enough people, just not cut out for this life.

  “They name town after us. MadDog, used to be Dodge. That was us on that day. MadDogs, not give in.” Wolf adds in conclusion, “We are now the MadDog Clan and proud to be so.”

  I am speechless, pondering on these people and their bravery. Holy cowpies.

  Coati smiles and breaks the silence, “Brave warrior must feed fire in soul. Apple pie.”

  Spud serves it up.

  “Delicious.”

  “Home grown apples, honey and wheat, beef lard. Farming has its rewards,” says Spud.

  “Naught but the finest ingredients and an exceptional cook, my compliments Madam Coati,” says Sir Jacob and bows in her direction.

  Soon it is time to roll into our soogans, glad to be inside with food in our bellies and the teepee skin between us and the elements. We cuddle near the hot coals which have dried and warmed us against the chill.

  28 Spirits Speak