Cowgirl Thrillers

by Barbara Neville

“Least we got the buzzards that stole one of our horses,” says Spud.

  We are still laying under our blankets, not anxious to emerge into the chilly air.

  “Crystal? Not the first time I’ve known her to steal a horse. Crystal stole Deuce from me back on Terrania. Actually she stole my boyfriend first, then the two of them stole Deuce. They used him to haul away the loot from their bank heist in Conquest Town. Then, when things got hot, she turned me and Michael in for it. She claimed we did the heist. She definitely cannot be trusted.”

  I look at Crystal.

  “Mitch still lickin’ you're heels girl?” I ask.

  She doesn’t say anything.

  “Her partner is my former true love, Mitch. We gotta keep weather eye out for that bastard. Bank robbin’, two timin’ trash,” I say. “They are why Michael and I had to leave Terrania in a rush.”

  “Don’t lie, Annie,” says Crystal. “You know you robbed that bank. Quit tryin’ to turn the tables.”

  “But hells bells,” I tell Spud. “Michael and I didn’t need to rob no banks. We were busy selling beef to the veggers.”

  Like a lot of them central planets, humans on Terrania are not allowed to consume any animal products or byproducts. Rule of law. It makes ranching cattle very profitable. Though selling the meat is a bit on the dangerous side. Gotta love them black market prices though.

  “Beefleggin’ paid excellent on Terrania. We was starting to do right well financially. Up ‘til the cops got hot on our trail for the bank robbin’ we were innocent of.” I look pointedly at Crystal.

  “We had to jump the first ship out of there right quick. We couldn’t show papers, had to stay incognito, so we stowed away. By luck, the ship we hid on took us to Hawaiia, which is halfway to the Rock. Got us close enough that we had the money for fare the rest of the way. We arrived Rockside with days to spare before roundup. Our luck was changing for the better. And then some buddy of ours shipped the rest of our little remuda over for us, real quiet like.”

  “That’s a bunch of horseshit,” Crystal whispers from her tree bed. “He dropped you like a hot potato when he met a real woman.”

  “Crystal?” I hiss, burning with anger. “You shut it before I kick yore ass out past the red moon.”

  I throw off my blanket and stomp over behind a bush to pee. Then I walk back, ignoring Crystal as I pass by. She is glaring at the world in general. I head on over to the cook fire. She can piss her pants for all I care.

  I take a deep calming breath and try to forget she exists. Damn short girls. Always stealing the tall guys from those of us that need them. I try a second calming breath, open my eyes to the bigger world and force a smile. I remind myself that Crystal is the one tied to a tree. I feel better immediately. I concentrate on counting my blessings. Like the two gentlemen sitting over my the fire.

  The sun is up, a light snow falling. Spud and Wolf seem to be deep in conversation.

  Wolf says, “Mm.” Then he sees me, nods good morning and says, “Annie, sit, we talk.”

  “Hey, we got three horses now,” I say. “Let’s toss them stragglers in the drink and git.” I nod my head toward the three transients. I am tired, hungry and grouchy after an interrupted night’s sleep night on hard, cold ground.

  “Annie,” says Spud. “Seriously.”

  “Okay.” I grumble. “You talk, I’ll drink my freakin’ Mormon tea.”

  They both smile at that.

  “Mormon tea plant medicinal,” says Wolf.

  Yep, Ma always gives it to us when were sick, says it’s good fer what ails ya,” says Spud.

  I lift my head from the steaming cup and add, “It don’t taste bad, it just ain’t coffee.”

  “Ooh, cough, cough.”

  I look over and Zeb sits up. Then he lies back down and curls into a tight ball, groaning. I go over and check on him. His abdomen is hard and distended. Maybe he caught a bug in the river, or maybe an unlucky punch knocked something loose inside. I give him some water, hoping it’s not the wrong thing to do.

  Both he and Crystal have shiners and swollen noses and mouths from the fight. Neither is ready to down food. I relent and untie Crystal so she can pee. She drinks water, too. And a cup of Mormon tea.

  Then I check Trixie, whose bruises are turning yellow with blue highlights from her river adventure. She swallows a few sips of the water I offer. Zeb puts his arms around her and murmurs a few words before he passes out again.

  “Okay, boys,” I say to the brothers. “We gotta hit the road fer Sir Jacob’s now. Zeb here may have internal injuries, too. Trixie might be a bit better, but she ain’t felt good enough to eat yet, so she ain’t healed by any means.”

  “Okay, the river oughta be down. We should be able to wade now, if we move fast, before the sun gets too high,” says Spud.

  “Wolf make travois.”

  Spud heads off to catch the horses and saddle them. Wolf gets the deer hide, which is only partly dried, and starts cutting the it into a long spiral. I go out, get my long logs and drag them into position. We cut and lash them together, running short poles crosswise for the patients to lay on and ending up with two quick and dirty sledges.

  Spud leads the horses over and we check the fit. Then, we pack last minute items into our saddlebags and lash the bigger items on with our saddle strings. We fit one travois each on Jinx and Joe. They are the two steadier mounts. Scout, at four, is a bit young to learn to pull with delicate cargo aboard. The older two must learn by doing this morning. Wolf leads them in a couple of circles with Spud and I each sitting on a travois for a quick bout of training.

  Neither of us gets kicked, so we carry the patients over and lay them onto their new, still slightly wet, mobile beds. Crystal, hands tied in front, gets the privilege of walking. We set out the short distance to the river, which is indeed much shallower. The early morning cold has slowed the rate of snowmelt upstream.

  Once there, we unload the patients. Spud takes off his boots and socks and rolls up his pants. Wolf skins out to his loincloth and rolls his clothes up inside his intestine raincoat and moccasin covers to keep them dry for the crossing.

  Wolf ties a rope on the two empty travois. They are lashed together one atop the other for Scout to pull. Spud and Jinx go behind, holding the trailing ends with his rope so the whole shebang doesn’t swing around and get torn up in the current. The remains of the deer meat are wrapped in a coat, which is tied up high on Joe’s saddle to keep it dry. He trails behind Jinx.

  Wolf heads in facing upstream with Spud a bit downstream from him. They angle across and eventually wade out on the other side, okay.

  While they are gone, I remove the patient’s boots and socks. I also roll up all our pants like Spud did to keep them dry during the crossing. Crystal holds her hands out for me to untie, giving me a pleading look.

  “Die, bitch,” I say.

  She figures out how to ready herself with tied hands.

  On the other side, the brothers unload. Wolf rides back leading the two other horses. Spud works on getting the travois unlashed and ready for patients, keeping an ear tuned for our yell should he need to wade in and help. If he does have to get wet, we will need to stop and build a fire so he can dry out and warm back up. Thirty-four degree water sucks body heat away quickly. It can’t be much warmer than freezing, as there is skim ice floating on the current.

  We hoist Zeb up on Jinx. He says he can ride. He seems too weak to get his foot into the stirrup, so we help him mount. Wolf will ride alongside to help if Zeb gets in trouble. Then we hoist Trixie up on Joe, she lays forward over the horn, but doesn’t fall off. I quickly give Crystal a leg up behind Wolf. Scout who has only had a dozen or so rides in his young life, humps up and does a few little crow hops, then settles down. I climb up behind Trixie, glad that I broke Joe long ago for carrying double. I wrap my arms around the girl so I can reach the reins to steer.

  We line up and head out into the shallows.

  Zeb is obviously no horseman
, despite his claims. His reins are already short on one side, long on the other. Most people are sure they can ride even if all they have ever done is sit on a horse once. They think it is easy.

  Before I can say anything Jinx responds to the one short rein, turning downstream away from Wolf. Then he stumbles a bit as he hits some deep mud. Zeb pulls again on the uneven reins. Jinx turns further and heads back toward shore and our old camp.

  “Turn him the other way,” I say.

  “How?” says Zeb, He has both hands full of loops of reins and looks confused.

  “Forget it. Just look down his neck and even yore rein length so they match. Then take one rein with each hand and pull lightly, he’ll stop.” I say. Wolf is making his way back to save him.

  Zeb pulls, Jinx stops. Zeb, who is a mite nervous by now, keeps pulling. Jinx backs up.

  “Stop pulling,” I say.

  Zeb stops.

  Jinx stops backing up and starts walking again.

  “Now pull again,” I say.

  Zeb is now totally confabulated. He seems to have different parts of one rein in each hand. No tension out to the horse’s mouth and no hands on the other rein.

  I am trying hard not to laugh. I cough as the air bursts out of my lungs.

  Just as Zeb finally drops the one rein completely to the ground, Wolf gets over close to him and grabs Jinx a rein.

  “This horse is crazy. How come he just took off like that?” asks Zeb.

  “He did just exactly what you asked,” I say, “The question is why did you ask? He would have followed Scout across.”

  “I pulled, he didn’t stop,” says Zeb.

  “You pulled him to turn, turn again, then to stop. You continued pulling, which put him in reverse. When he stops, you gotta stop pulling,” I say.

  After he gets his stifled guffaws under control, Wolf asks, “Ever ride a horse before, Zeb?”

  “Once, looking for Crystal. How hard can it be?” he says. “Just put me on a tame one.”

  “They don’t come any tamer that Jinx and he is the same tame horse you rode looking for Crystal,” I say, ribs still heaving with stifled laughter. I leave out the after he gets topped out in the morning part, as Spud had already done that.

  “Oh. Jeez,” says Zeb.

  “Ay yi yi. You plan to lead forty pilgrims across uncharted country with horses, teams and wagons?”

  Zeb nods and says, “We can learn as we go.”

  “You can,” I agree. “Might have a few wrecks cripple some stock and kill a couple people, too. You need to consider hiring a guide, at the very least.”

  “Ah, we’ll be okay,” says Zeb.

  I just shake my head, deadpan. None of my business.

  “Surely some of them others are riders?” I ask.

  “We come from a small town,” Zeb says.

  “Oh yeah?” I ask. “How big?”

  “About 500,000.”

  “Oh, yeah, a village.”

  Besides, we figured on getting a horse handling lesson the first day,” says Zeb sheepishly. “You know, how to put all the harness and stuff on. How to steer.”

  I am speechless.

  “You have raised livestock, right?” asks Wolf.

  Zeb says, enthusiastically, “We talked to farmers and people who know about it. There was a farmer right nearby who we visited before we left Terrania. He told us all about what to do.”

  “How big was his farm?”

  “Five acres.”

  “He have a lot of livestock?”

  “Sure, he had ten chickens and three pigs.”

  Wolf has been checking loads as we talk. He looks at me and nods.

  “Well, then yore all set fer wilderness ranching,” says I. “Okay. If you are ready, Zeb, let’s get outta here.”

  “Yeah, giddy up!” says Zeb.

  Jinx jumps and turns his butt in a 180, Scout starts to explode. Wolf pulls them both in expertly. Zeb is hanging off to the side looking green around the gills.

  “Maybe a little more quietly, Zeb,” I say as a reach over and pull him back to center.

  He nods.

  “Hang tight to that saddlehorn,” I say. “Wolf will lead you acrost.”

  Wolf shakes his head and, leading Jinx, moves out into the water once again. Guess we did need Spud’s help. I see him across the river. He was working on unlashing the travois and getting them ready, but obviously he spotted our little rodeo and stopped to watch. He is now bent over with laughter.

  I follow Jinx, holding Trixie around the waist and steering Joe. After a minute or two, we hit the edge of the current and the work is on. The water has risen a foot easy in the short time since the first crossing. The bottom of the river is moving and rocks are starting to roll from the strength of the current. Fortunately, it is still a wade, not a swim, and our horses are tough, patient and surefooted.

  Another wet swim would require us to stop, build a fire and dry ourselves all over again, so we take extra care to stay dry. We need to get the patients to Sir Jacob’s as quickly as possible. We near the other side what seems like a half hour later, but as these things go, is likely less than ten minutes. We are not too far downstream from where we can see Spud once again unlashing and tightening the covers on the two travois. He stops what he is doing and comes over to meet us.

  Once ashore, Spud grabs Jinx reins so Zeb doesn’t do something to cause him to bolt for home. We unload everyone and dry feet with our shirts. Wolf puts some clothes back on.

  Since we have only the three horses left, much of our cached camp gear gets left behind. Spud has already bundled up food and a few essentials to take with us.

  We hang the travois poles over the saddle horns on Jinx and Joe. We load the patients on them and are soon ready to hit the road. As we start out, we push anything soft we can find, like our coats and gloves, between the logs and saddles to save the saddle leather from rubs.

  Crystal gets to walk in front of my pistol. I know from experience just how slippery she can be. Wearing less than we would like for the cold conditions, Spud and I are happy to be afoot, each leading a travois pulling horse. The clouds start leaking snow down upon us.

  “Just a light flurry,” I say, looking at the clouds. “Not stickin’.”

  I mentally cross my fingers.

  “Got any feeling yet?” asks Spud, leading Jinx.

  “Fingers, some. Toes, not yet,” I reply holding Joe’s reins. “Wolf. How did you stay warm aboard that heathen beast fer three crossings?”

  Wolf looks down from Scout and says, “Wolf clothes stay dry crossing river. Gut raingear make good dry sack.”

  I only have a wet strip on my rolled pants to live with, plus the normal splashing from the horses’ legs. And the damp shirt from drying my and Trixie’s feet. Brrr. My duster is acting as a blanket on Trixie.

  “Not doin’ too bad wet wise. Be better if the sun would come out from behind them clouds,” I say.

  Crystal looks warm and comfy in her duster, but she bitches about her contusions from the fight. She entertains us intermittently, as we walk, with her ills.

  “My knee got twisted,” she moans.

  Later she pulls a finger out of her mouth and says, “Bastard broke two of my teeth.”

  She takes a deep breath as we climb a hill, winces and says, “My ribs hurt when I breathe.”

  “Maybe we’ll get lucky and it’ll be a pictured lung, “ I say. “If so, yore a dead woman. Don’t waste yore last breaths bitchin’. It’s high time you learned to enjoy what’s left of yore miserable life.”

  “You always were a mouthy one, Roxanne,” she gripes.

  “Thanks,” I say. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  When we arrive at the cache, we load up our gear and food. Some fits on Scout. Most of it we strap atop the saddles on the travois horses. Bulky things, like the sawbuck, go on the two travois with Trixie and Zeb. We put the pack saddle blankets and tarp under and over the chilled patients for more padding and warm
th.

  Crystal says, “Damn it Roxy. I’m hot. Untie me so I can take off this duster.”

  “Die bitch,” I say again.

  “What, are you running out of expletives?” she asks, tauntingly.

  Spud gives me the hairy eyeball and goes over to Crystal. He helps her get her long coat off and stows it on a travois.

  We start walking once more. The land in front of us is sparkling brown and the shadows are still white with frost. The last of the summer green has faded away. Only the conifers hold on to their color. Their turquoise and green needles look cheery. Some snow patches in the shade twinkle and glisten for our amusement.

  It is lunchtime, the sun is out and we are all warm. Spirits are on our side, too, because the river will definitely have risen behind us. Fortunately, there’s no more rivers ahead.

  Spud digs some newly made deer jerky out and we eat. Zeb and Trixie manage a bite or two. Crystal eats like a starving woman.

  “Holy cow Spud, I didn’t know you could eat and walk at the same time,” I say.

  Wolf, who is leading, turns back and says, “He couldn’t always. Wolf have to teach.”

  “You two think yore funny?” asks Spud rhetorically, rolling his eyes.

  “Say, you never told me. Which of you is older?” I ask.

  “Wolf wiser,” says Wolf.

  “But I am older,” says Spud. “Therefore automatically wiser.”

  “Twenty minutes. Not enough to matter,” says Wolf.

  “Sure it is,” says Spud.

  “Wait, what? Twenty minutes? But aren’t you brothers?” I ask.

  “Yep,” says Wolf.

  “Oh. Spud is adopted, right?”

  “Nope,” says Spud.

  “Oh…you mean?”

  “What?” asks Spud, just to torture me.

  “You two fuckers are twins?”

  “Yep,” says Spud and smiles.

  “Mm-hm,” adds Wolf, smiling also.

  “Holy cow.”

  I mull on the implications of that a while.

  “But, you don’t look alike.”

  “Ain’t no law says twins gotta look alike,” says Spud.

  “True.”

  “Two brothers, share womb,” says Wolf, shrugging.

  “Whoo ta! My first twins.”

  They both smile.

  “Your first?” asks Crystal. “Shit, I had two sets at once, once.”

  “Lyin’ bitch,” I say.

  “Fucking cunt,” she counters.

  Shit, I made myself a promise to ignore her.

  “Will you two get over it?” asks Spud.

  Looking from one to the other, amazed, I ask, “Isn’t twins supposed to be good luck or some such?”

  “Good luck fer us,” says Spud, smiling. Wolf looks like he may just agree.

  A few miles later, Wolf pulls his horse up. He dismounts and says, “Annie good woman, deserve ride.”

  “Thank ya kindly, sir,” I say, bowing my head.

  I climb on Scout and rest my weary dogs for a while.

  We continue along for a good bit, passing the beaver pond and starting up into the pass. Good thing for us that the snow quit falling for this climb. Would of made it real slick. About halfway up, I pull over and give Scout to Spud.

  We work our way up to the pass and look at the mostly downhill miles in front of us. I pick up some snow to suck on.

  “Downhill looks good to me about now,” I say. “You know any shortcuts, guys?”

  “Mebbe,” says Spud. “Not with these travois, though. They gotta stick to easy country. Be best to stay on the trail.”

  “How about Spud ride ahead? Get Sir Jacob and wagon,” says Wolf.

  “Great minds,” says Spud. He unties some of the goodies that were strapped to the saddle and hands them to us to save weight and preserve Scout’s energy. He climbs back on and trots off. We stow the goods on the two travois.

  “Now Wolf have Annie all to self.”

  “Hey, I’m a girl too,” says Crystal.

  “Wolf trust Annie judgment. Best to ignore Crystal,” he says.

  He gets out the leftover rawhide strip and commences fashioning a breeching to keep the saddles from sliding forward on the steep downhill run.

  “Yeah. Just you, me, the invisible bitch and two sleeping patients.

  “Right now, Wolf just hope they stay asleep. We need to make time, get them to help.”

  “Yeah, good or bad, guess it don’t mean much now. Long as Crystal don’t attack us.”

  “Mm, Wolf check knots.”

  “Yeah, couldn’t hurt,” I say. “No sense bein’ stupid.”

  We head out once more. Crystal is limping. Which I don’t mind. I like watching the bitch suffer. Actually, I know her well enough to know that she is probably faking it.

  I can see Spud far below. He has descended the switchbacks and left the trail already. Scout is now loping across the open plain.

  “Looks like he is going for the shortcut.”

  After we have walked a ways further I notice that Crystal has forgotten her limp. She is striding along just fine. Ha, I knew it.

  The switchbacks slow us down quite a bit, not having been designed with a travois in mind. They are, in fact, just game trails that a few folks have ridden and improved over time. Fortunately, there are not a lot of trees, so we can take one horse at a time and slide and pry each travois around the tighter bends.

  We only end up unloading our patients twice. They drink water and pee, but have no desire for solid food. They do drink a bit of grouse broth from my canteen. Wolf and I also take the opportunity for a break and a snack for ourselves.

  Then, as we head around the next switchback, Joe’s travois slips off the trail. I get busy trying to keep the travois from sliding farther and its passenger from rolling off down the steep hillside.

  We cheat our way on around the rest of the corners, learning tricks as we go. When we hit the bottom, we can hear the distant sound of jingling harness.

  “Sir Jacob must not be far.”

  “If it is him,” says Wolf.

  “We are expecting him. Who else would be driving a team this far out in the boonies?” I ask Wolf.

  “Friend of Crystal,” he says nodding toward her.

  “Argh,” I groan. I was wishfully blanking that bastard out.

  “You sound like pirate,” says Wolf smiling. That calls for a quick kiss.

  We keep walking across the rolling land.

  “I don’t hear the jinglin’ anymore.”

  “Wind blow sound away,” says Wolf. I turn around. He is right, a light breeze has come up from behind us.

  “Make it easier for us to come up on them sudden like.”

  “No good if they are not friends,” says Wolf. “Wolf scout ahead.”

  He turns Joe loose to follow Jinx’ travois and walks up the nearest hill for a look see. I cross my fingers and keep walking, with Jinx’ reins in my hand. But Joe stops to graze. I consider having Crystal lead him. But don’t trust her to not cause trouble even though she looks too tired to run. She could be pretending.

  I untie her hands and retie them in front, then I boost her up onto Joe and secure them to the horn. Her legs look uncomfortable straddling the travois poles. Fine by me. I tie Joe’s reins to Jinx’ travois. Joe being tied should deter Crystal from trying to kick him up and escape.

  Wolf’s scouting of the trail ahead seems most important. If we healthy folks die, the injured ones got not much of a chance at all.

  39 Jingle Balls