Cowgirl Thrillers

by Barbara Neville

Next morning, Wolf is out of his blankets well before me. I am out well before daylight. Mose, Buzz and Shaz are already at the breakfast fire. So much for thinking I am an early riser.

  “Damn, thought I would be first out of the soogans. Wolf left already?” I ask. I blow on my coffee. I am thirsty, but not anxious to burn my tongue.

  “Trackin’,” says Mose. “That boy learnt good. I ‘member his pappy teachin’ them two older boys. He were some.”

  “You know their pappy?”

  “Shoot yea. Fine figure of a man,” says Mose nodding while he shifts the shifting coals with a stick. “But he got the travel bug. Never see him much.”

  Shaz hands around plates of victuals. We eat and then get our gear together, not sure what the day will have in store.

  By the time we have gathered all of Wolf’s packhorses in the corral and my saddle horse is geared up, Wolf comes trotting in.

  “We catched up the whole shebang, what with that weather headed in.” Mose nods toward the clouds. “Thinkin’ you might want to book it fer home. Me, Shaz and Buzz kin chase down thet hombre.”

  “Mnh. Bad guy head same direction. Maybe we run into him,” says Wolf.

  We get the sawbucks and panniers loaded. Wolf lovingly wraps the buffalo carving. He carefully cushions it in a pannier and hangs it on the tamest nag in his bunch for safety.

  He turns to Mose.

  “You got plenty ammo?” he asks.

  “I been okay many a year and Buzz got the power. We be fine,” says Mose. “Plus Shaz fights like a b’ar. Our man maybe bled out from her bites by now.”

  “Bites?” I ask.

  “Mm-hm. Plenty blood where him capture Shaz. She not get wounds, only give wounds, before him knock her out.”

  “Oh, well, don’t make her mad atcha,” I say to Mose and Buzz. They smile. Then, I swing up onto Joe and open the corral gate. The pack string lines out down the trail with Wolf and I on their tails.

  “Sun ain’t makin’ much headway,” I say, after a few hours of light snow flurries. “Them clouds won’t give us a break.”

  Wolf nods, eying the clouds.

  We soon stop to get out a cold snack of beef jerky and dried apricots from our saddle bags.. Wolf dismounts and rummages around in a pannier. He pulls out blankets. We wrap them over our shoulders to hold the heat. The snow hasn’t amounted to much, but it has covered any sign.

  After we remount, Wolf moves his horse up into a jog again and we make quick tracks. The loose horses head right out, too. They know that we are pointed towards home.

  Lunch finds us at our old campsite.

  “Sir Jacob be excited by buffalo. Him not sure he believe in spirits. We see if spirit carving change his mind,” says Wolf between bites. He is happy as hell about the whole spirit thing and I notice him smiling like crazy at times all day long.

  None too soon, we come to the last pass. The snow is a foot deep but only for a short ways. We have lots of hooves to break trail, so are slowed but a little. By midnight or so, we arrive at Spud’s.

  He ain’t home yet.

  “Damn it. ‘Member how we was s’posed to stay together?”

  “Spud big boy, not worry, maybe he find bad guy.”

  “You see his tracks?”

  “No, he start out lookin’ for Buzz, maybe make big circle, cut bad guy tracks. We build fire, have place warm for welcome him home.”

  “You start the fire, kemo sabe. Then let’s go soak while the place warms up. How many hours were we joggin’? All day, as I remember. My legs muscles are still twitchin’.”

  “Annie get wine, undress. Wolf join.”

  “Okay.”

  I grab the first bottle I see, put it on a tray, add a pile of victuals and head fer the hot pool. As I walk down the trail, I hear a shriek so shrill it can only be Michael. He sounds like he is being abducted. I slow to listen. I can’t tell what is going on.

  As I move quietly closer, I can see through the bushes that the spring indeed has occupants. They are splashing and playing in the hot water, oh, maybe more than that. I recognize Michael’s naked outline and back up a ways, so as not to disturb.

  “Oh, oh, oh! Praise the gods, do it more. Wait slower, slower. Yes, yes, yes!” he is saying.

  Oh. Oops. I head back toward the cabin.

  I am almost to the back porch when Wolf walks out in all his naked glory. He asks laconically, “Why Annie not wet?’

  “Michael is out there with some company.” I point with my chin.

  Wolf continues toward the water.

  I say, “But I think they are…”

  Not hearing me or not caring, he keeps walking. He goes far enough to see the water. Emboldened, I follow and stand shyly behind him.

  He watches a sec and then says, “How.”

  He turns back to me and says, “Last Injin in is a loser.”

  We run for the water. Wolf wins. Michael is just getting out.

  He says, “Your turn.”

  And gives me a hug. The pool is empty. His friend or friends must have exited behind the trees at the other end.

  “Oh, doggies, does this hot water feel fine,” I say as I float away from shore.

  And Wolf? He feels fine also. Yeehaw!

  30 Bãngh