Cowgirl Thrillers

by Barbara Neville

‘Knock, knock.’

  “Shit, arggghhh, we’re sleepin’.”

  ‘Knock, knock.’

  “Groan.” Spud reaches across me. “What?”

  “Someone at the door.”

  He puts on pants.

  I open my eyes. “Say it ain’t mornin’.”

  ‘Knock, knock, knock.’ More insistent.

  Spud staggers up, stumbles over his boots. “Fuck.”

  Sits down to put them on.

  “Son of a bitch.”

  Stands up, wavers.

  Regains his balance.

  “Somebody better be dead!”

  Lurches toward the stairs.

  ‘Knock, knock.’

  “Cocksucker, I’m coming!!!

  “Motherfucker.” Then crashing.

  ‘Knock, knock.’

  “I said, somebody better be dead.”

  I can hear him fumbling. “Shit, it’s locked.

  “Hold on!” he yells at the door.

  “Annie, bring the frickin’ key.

  “Please.”

  I tumble out of bed head first and find the key where it fell out of his pants.

  “Coming!” Then he yells, “It’s the Sabbath, you should be in church, I should be sleepin’ in. Whoever the fuck you are.”

  “It’s me. Sky.”

  I get downstairs, hand the bleary eyed Spud the key.

  He unlocks and opens the door. “Sky, it’s the middle of the fucking night.”

  “It’s almost dawn Spud. Charley sent me, she says it’s urgent. She said to bring the crew, be prepared, act like you’re coming in on other business, not to meet her. Meet by tonight before nine, Soames has plans for tomorrow, so the sooner the better.

  “Charley said to tell you personally, Annie, ‘it is urgent that you don’t forget Bob.’”

  “Oh, okay,” I say, dumbfounded.

  Spud looks at me. “Who’s Bob?”

  I look at him. “Aargh, coffee, we need coffee.”

  “I’ll get the pot on, then go feed. You go wake the troops. Bob, too. Whoever the fuck he is.”

  I go out on the porch and ring the big bell.

  “Come in, Sky, we’re usually up by now, long day yesterday. Sorry, you musta rode all night yoreself,” I say.

  “Naw, I flew in. Under the radar. Puddle jumper. Not to worry. Wasn’t seen. Could use some coffee though.”

  Spud heads over to the counter. “Oh. Someone already made it.”

  He pours three cups and hands Sky and I each one.

  Sky takes his and yawns. “Tired.”

  “Yep, no rest for the weary,” I say.

  “No rest for the wicked either,” Spud says.

  Sir Jake steps into the room and says, “Actually, there is rest for neither the wicked nor the weary. Nor many of the rest of folks either.” He steps over and pours himself a cup.

  After a sip he says, “Top o’ the mornin’, Sky, thought I heard you glide in.” They clink cups.

  Spud looks at Sky. “What else you know?”

  “Nothin’ actually, I’ve told you all she told me. Charley knocked me up early and said maybe I knew where you lived, she was gonna send a letter through Cayuse. I said since the moon was full, I was faster. My hopper was a ways out of town, behind that big hill, so no one is likely to have seen, even if they were still awake.”

  “‘Preciate it, hours ahead of the Cayuse, gives us time to catch some fresh horses. We just brung in the sheep yesterday, got in by the moonlight ourselves.”

  “And we must clean and reload our weapons,” adds Sir Jacob.

  Wolf and Coati come in with steaming pots of food. “Break. Fast,” she says, in two words.

  Sky gives them each a hug and says, “Perfect timing, I’m starved.”

  Spud stares. “You already stirrin’?”

  “Me not weak from spilling seed,” says Wolf.

  “You fed too?”

  “Kids feeding, no worry, little slaves back. I remember when you two were my little slaves. Sky too sometimes.” Coati smiles at the memory. “Mother home now. Keep you out of trouble.”

  “Phew, Sky. You come and saved us just in time. We was about to get mothered to death.” Spud laughs and hugs Coati.

  Another fine morning over breakfast at Spud’s. I could get used to this.

  Wolf and Coati have made chicken and taters for breakfast, along with the usual rashers and eggs.

  “Two kinds of meat for breakfast sure fills the void after a long ride,” says Spud.

  “I don’t understand why they say dinosaurs went extinct,” I say as I pick up a chicken breast.

  Spud says, “All this shit going on, the interlopers, the weather shuttin’ down early so we had to get the sheep camp moved. All them extry days, them cattle have about et theirselves out of house and home. My buyer, Ginger, wanted them yesterday so he will come to us. We just gotta run ‘em down to the stock pens outside MadDog. We should be in town in plenty of time to meet with Charley.”

  After vittles, Spud and I go up to his bedroom for a’ extra quickie, then as we get dressed I pick up my vet wraps. As I start to tightly wrap my chest, I explain to the quizzical Spud. “I was accused of murder three times, twice falsely. That’s where Bob came in. He was my ticket off of Mauka and Makai.”

  I have rendered my breasts, which ain’t much to brag about in any case, just about nonexistent. Since I ain’t over endowed on the top side, and tall as I am, I can easily pass for a man. Height hurts in the finding of a husband or a date part of life, but it is a hell of a help in keeping a low profile get out of jail free kind of way.

  I wrap my hair up atop my head, swipe some charcoal for five o’clock shadow, pull my hat down low and voila, Bob’s your uncle or some such.

  I look at Spud. “Just don’t call me Annie.”

  Spud gives me a shit eatin’ grin and says, “Yo, Bob.”

  We head out to the corral. Spud says, “Boys, meet Bob our new ranch hand.”

  Sir Jacob comes over looking puzzled. “New?”

  He eyes me.

  I stick out a paw and say, “Pleasure, sir.”

  “Bob, is it?”

  “Charley said I should come into town incognito. Only Michael knows Bob, he must have talked to her. Something going down, must have a reason.”

  “I say. Robert, I have a few accoutrements which will render thee less feminine. Please accompany me to my parlor,” says Sir Jacob as he raises an elbow to escort me.

  “Time’s a wastin’, boys.”

  “Beg pardon, Spud, we are off to the loo, important business to attend to. After, we shall join you.”

  Sir Jake and I head for the mirror. Sir Jake opens a leather case, fumbles a bit and says, “Close your eyes.”

  Spud has joined us and is giggling.

  “Ain’t masculine to giggle, girls,” I grouse, eyes tight shut.

  They stick something to my lip.

  “Are you kidding?”

  “No wigglin’!” says Spud. “No peekin’ either.”

  Sir Jacob adjusts something. Then he says, “Righto. Now you may look.”

  “Holy chicharones. I always wanted a handlebar mustache! Very cool!”

  “You’d a’ made a handsome man. Not sure I wanna kiss you now though,” says Spud. Then he proceeds to kiss me. “Well, hell. Maybe I am queer.”

  “I’d say so,” I, ah, say.

  “We all indubitably agree that you are a queer one, pardner, albeit, I think, not a homosexual,” says Sir Jacob.

  “Okay, we better get a move on. No kissin’ me in public Bob,” says Spud. “I wouldn’t want all the girls on the Rock to go into mourning.”

  “Hey, you kissed me.”

  Spud smiles that shit eatin’ grin again, gotta love him.

  “Okay, Sir Spud, we shall expedite the saddling. After you my dear friend, Robert.”

  We head out to catch and saddle our mounts,

  Wolf rides in just as I am about to mount, reaches down and slaps me on t
he ass as he goes by.

  “Didn’t know you swung that way Wolf,” says Spud.

  “Injin not fool. Annie still have lady ass.”

  “I was hoping the baggy vest would help hide my fat ass.”

  “Nope,” deadpans Wolf.

  “Shit, yore supposed to say it’s shapely, not fat.”

  Silence. Wolf still deadpan.

  Oh well. “Bob is the name, Wolf. Don’t forget.”

  “Yes siree Bob.” Wolf salutes insolently and lopes off.

  32 Ginger