Cowgirl Thrillers

by Barbara Neville

Wolf is saying, “Spirit Quest or walkabout. Same.”

  “Same?” I ask.

  “Yes, search for self, meaning of life. Not really search for any one thing. Like journey, destination not important. Quest, walkabout, journey, all good for soul.”

  “Well, my soul is cold, hope them clouds burn off,” I say.

  “You walk. Warm up.”

  “Good idea, get the blood flowin’.” I dismount and yell, “Shaz, wanna ride?” I wave the reins at her. She looks wide-eyed again, like she might run off.

  Wolf says, “Whoa there, Annie girl, too soon.”

  “Yeah, I noticed. Guess I just got excitable there fer a sec.”

  I like the idea of walking though, so I take the bridle off of Joe and hang it on the saddle horn. I tie it down tight with the saddle strings, so Joe don’t step on it or lose it in the brush.

  Wolf studies me a minute, then says, “Good. Walking girl less scary. You go ahead of horses.”

  I head out, behind Shaz and Bitch, but ahead of Wolf and all the horses. Shaz looks back and I quickly look at the ground. After a mile or so, I look back at Wolf and say, “This is much better. I feel warmer already.”

  Shaz turns forward and continues walking as if she has a destination in mind. I keep my own counsel about my confusion between journeys and destinations. I mean traveling in a space ship is a journey too, right? Maybe it’s not old timey enough for Wolf’s ancient Injin spirits. I nod to myself. Sounds half reasonable.

  Bitch circles back and walks alongside me.

  We cover many a mile before coming to another crick where we all squat to drink. As I wipe my lips, I see Shaz looking at me. I reach over and pet Bitch, who rolls onto her back for a belly rub.

  “Bitch really likes this,” I say, pointedly not looking at Shaz.

  Shaz reaches out to touch Bitch’s hind foot, which is the farthest part of the bitch from me.

  Wolf rides up. He waters himself and his horse on the opposite side of me, leaving we three females to a quiet moment of communion.

  Later, Wolf brings some jerky over and hands it to me. I hold a piece out to Shaz. She doesn’t move her feet, but leans over and reaches as far as she can. Her fingertips just barely get a hold on the jerky, then she jumps back with it. She and Bitch gobble it down like starving bears.

  Wolf and I fill our canteens, he mounts up and we are off again. No words are spoken.

  A few hours later, I am thinking about how I can ride for weeks on end. No problem. However, I am totally out of shape for walking. A high melodic sound reaches my ears. Wolf is singing in a tremulous falsetto.

  The song helps clear my mind and fill the hours of our journey.

  Shaz occasionally glances back at Wolf. I like to think she is enjoying the concert. She looks relaxed and calm now.

  I drop back to walk beside Wolf’s horse.

  “Yore song is soothin’ the savage beast,” I say.

  Wolf nods knowingly. Of course he already knew that. The man is powerful versed in life.

  “You know Wolf,” I say. “Back in town when you first proposed this odyssey, I was a mite skeptical of the entire enterprise. I thought I was a spontaneous person. But in fact, I suppose I sounded just like them city Injins you mentioned. ‘Got chores, got bills.’ Stuck in my groove kinda things. But now, fuck it, damned if you aren’t right. It feels like we are going nowhere in particular. Just venturesome folk. And heck, we got Shaz and Bitch fer entertainment. Hells bells, maybe the journey is the destination.”

  Wolf smiles his shit-eatin’ grin, very similar to Spud’s in fact, and says, “Annie, Wolf make Injin of you yet.”

  Shaz is drawing ahead, so we move out to catch up. As we draw near, I can hear her quietly humming.

  I look at Wolf, his eyes are gleaming with pride.

  So, we are a plucky bunch. A’ Injin, a cowgirl, a bear girl, a white bitch and seven horses. Together, explorin’ a planet.

  17 New Country