Cowgirl Thrillers

by Barbara Neville

‘Bam!’

  A horse snorts. I hear hooves pounding.

  “What the fuck?” I whisper. I can see sparks and smoke flyin’ up into the air out of the corner of my eye.

  Wait, that might be our horses, running. Damn.

  Spud’s eyes are already open and looking right into mine. We are facing each other. So much for security. We both roll slowly over, arriving onto our other sides with pistols in hand. It sounds like someone set off a bomb in the fire pit. After the flash, my night vision is shot.

  Spud jumps up and crawls left. I go the other way. Once we are in the thick of the willow brush that grows along the crick, the fire no longer spotlights us. I pause, listening, waiting for something to move so I can shoot it, maybe. The moon is not up yet, but there is a bit of light in the east. It is about to pop above the horizon. I can hear a horse snuffle. Phew, we need the horses. I stand up and walk carefully that direction, bearing in mind that they were just spooked by the blast. So, could still be wonky.

  I hear Spud whispering. He is already out there. The edge of the moon peaks over the ridge and I can see Spud putting his belt around Joe’s neck. I stand up slowly and walk over. Joe lifts his head and snorts like I might be a monster, so I whisper to him, too.

  “Easy buddy, jest me,” I say.

  Joe relaxes and Spud leads him toward me. The three of us move back into the safety of the brush as the moon gets bigger and brighter in the night sky. It is bright enough now to cast stark shadows in the clearing.

  “Damn lucky he stayed, horses usually run off together. Maybe they are still nearby,” says Spud quietly.

  “Joe’s been a good partner fer a few years now. He is not a spooky type and is pretty damn good about stayin’ near camp,” I mutter proudly. “My ma used to say, ‘Good horses are like my children, only better behaved’.”

  “Ha,” whispers Spud, “My ma says almost that exact same thing.”

  “That Coati is a smart woman.”

  “Yep.”

  “What do you think? Go look now or wait fer mornin’?” I ask.

  “Good moonlight, we just don’t know who threw the bomb at us, if thet is what it were.”

  “Coulda been a crick rock, too. They can explode in a fire if there is water inside.”

  “True. Wolf an’ I used to blow ‘em up on purpose.”

  “Crazy boys.”

  “Yep. We loved ‘til I got hit with a piece. Made a good size cut in my side. I screamed the whole time Coati was sewin’ it up. She didn’t use nothin’ to help with the pain. Evil mom trick. Kinda cured us. ‘Course, we found other trouble to git into.”

  I walk over to the tack pile and scare up a halter and rope for Joe. I tie him and then I move bedding into a little clearing in the brush.

  In the meanwhile, Spud has taken a turn around the area.

  He returns and says, “Not a thing, too dark fer sign.”

  “No rock shards, wasn’t a crick rock,” I say.

  “Damn, musta been people then.”

  “Where do you suppose Wolf and Buzz went?”

  “Shit, crazy Injin, who knows?” says Spud. “He’ll likely show up in the mornin’ with Buzz, all the other horses, a few dead bodies and a sly grin.”

  “Yep. You sleep, I’ll take the first watch.” I say. “Horses might just feed their way back, if they didn’t run all the way home.”

  “Or get stole,” says Spud realistically.

  “Shit, that is true, Joe won’t let a stranger catch him up. Lotta horses though, an offer of tasty grain…”

  “Thank the spirits fer Joe, then,” says Spud as he crawls into our double wide soogans.

  This time I pick a spot across the fire from Spud. Up against a big tree trunk on the shady side facing away from the firelight. I untie Joe from the tree, then tie the end of his lead rope to my ankle with a slip knot, just to be sure. Next I lay on Wolf’s empty soogans, throw the blankets over my legs and settle down to sleep with one eye open. Joe is my ever-alert night guard. A good horse is a better guard than me any day of the week. If he feels intruders are coming, he’ll tug on my ankle. It’s an old Apache trick.

  “Don’t step on me buddy,” I remind him as I close my eyes.