Cowgirl Thrillers

by Barbara Neville

After a few miles, Sir Jacob says, “Annie, there is a space on the seat here next to me. Tie that horse behind. Climb up, you can ride shotgun.”

  “Sure.”

  I dismount, tie up my horse to the back of the wagon and hop up to sit by Sir Jacob. He hands me the shotgun. I check the action, then lay the twelve gauge across my lap. I listen carefully but, other than the noise of our horses and wagon, all seems tranquil.

  “Yore spring wagon does pretty well on the trail here,” I say looking the rig over.

  “Yes, Spud warned me about the primitive trail. Therefore, I brought the narrowest I have,” says Sir Jacob. “Spud rode ahead of us on the way out. He chopped down a few trees and did some light limbing here and there to widen the road. It provides a significantly smoother ride for the patients than the travois, and is much faster.”

  “You know anything about this one wheeled thingy that the boys saw the track of?” I ask.

  “Ugh?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It is a fairly sophisticated unmanned contraption. Smart enough to run itself down trails, self-propelled. From what Spud related it seems that Wolf didn’t in fact see it either, so one can only speculate. One wonders what it’s mission could be. And who is running it. It could be recording sight, sound or both.”

  “Yep. Whatever they might be lookin’ fer.”

  “What have you and Michael been up to?” I ask .

  “We have kept busy in the wine cellar. Working on the wine in barrels. Today we were tasting and blending a fine new vintage of Petite Syrah with a Zin,” says Sir Jacob. “Also, we have an excellent Albariño ready to open tonight.”

  “Great. Sounds like a tolerable nice life you been livin’ compared to our excess of adventure the last couple of days.”

  “Ah, yes, very much so,” says Sir Jacob. He glances back again to check on the patients. “They seem to be resting well. It has no doubt been an exhausting trip.”

  “Yeah, I sure am beat, short night and a long couple of days.

  “Yep,” says Michael. “All quiet back here. Pulses are fine, no puddles of blood. No one sneaking up behind us.”

  “Good.”

  A few miles later Sir Jacob slows the team to a walk as we pass through a narrow stretch of rocky trail. The long drive is making me sleepy, too.

  Michaels sits up quickly. Jolting the wagon.

  “Wait. Don’t look up. Shit,” he says quietly.

  “Okay, not looking up,” I say.

  “Be right back,” says Michael. He jumps on Joe and gallops off.

  “Bugger and blast,” mutters Sir Jacob. “Don’t look. The Ugh is atop that hill behind us. Michael must have looked up and spotted it.”

  “So much fer leavin’ it alone ‘til we see what it is up to,” I say, tipping my head enough to peak out from under the brim of my hat, like Sir Jacob has done. I can see the thingy out of the corner of my eye without letting the sun light up my features.

  Sir Jacob says, “If it spots us, it could be a cock up. It would be best if it didn’t record our presence.”

  I am confused by that. So I ask flat out, “Why not? Wasn’t it already spyin’ on us?”

  “No, I believe it is up to something else. Wolf and Spud just happened on its tracks by luck, don’t you see?” says Sir Jacob.

  “Yeehaw,” yells Michael as the rope settles over the Ugh. Joe backs away mightily, as any good rope horse will, keeping the rope taut and his eyes glued to his captive. The Ugh tries hard to stay upright, but the rope catch is high up and Joe is a strong puller. As the rope tightens, Michael spins Joe around and they come barreling down the hill. The Ugh is thrown on its side. It bounces over the rocky terrain, clanging away metallically. Joe has never heard a metallic sounding cow, so he runs for his life. It’s also the weirdest looking cow he ever saw.

  “Take these,” says Sir Jacob, tossing me the reins. “Be sure the brake is set.”

  I double check the brake, drop the shotgun in the boot well and grab the reins.

  Very quickly, Joe and Michael arrive at the wash. Sir Jacob is already on the ground, with a blanket in hand, ready to bulldog the Ugh.

  The team spooks and drags the wagon about ten yards, set brakes and all. They seem to agree with Joe that bouncing Ughs really are scary.

  I get the wild-eyed team under control quickly and turned around.

  I can see the action again. Michael pulls Joe to a sliding stop just past the bottom of the wash and a mite uphill, The Ugh comes to a stop on its side in the wash. Joe spins around to face his ‘cow’ as Michael jumps off and runs to hogtie it.

  Sir Jacob tosses the blanket over the Ugh to cover the camera lens and throws himself atop it to keep it laying down. If it stands up and starts driving away, it will likely spook the horses again. We could have a real wreck.

  Sir Jacob is stuffing folds of blanket into the wheel spokes to stop the spinning wheel. Michael arrives and runs his piggin string through spokes and struts. He snugs it up and ties a knot, rendering the wheel immobile.

  I look up to check on Joe. He is where Michael left him, still facing his cow, holding the rope taut. Just like the reliable cowhorse he is.

  The Ugh is fighting to stand upright. Can Ughs stand up once they are knocked down? Apparently. Michael joins Sir Jacob atop the blanket. Then Sir Jacob feels around the blanket a while.

  What with all the excitement, all I saw was a shiny silver, electronic looking thing on top of a wheel.

  The team is restless, so I utter some soothing words, “Easy boys. No problem.”

  I notice that Michael is sitting atop the blanket waving his arms at me. He holds an upright index finger in front his mouth.

  Shh. He mimes.

  I realize they have said nothing in all this time. Damn Ugh, must have electronic ears, just like Sir Jacob suggested.

  Sir Jacob lifts a corner of the blanket and looks under. He pulls hard on some wires. It gets quiet. I hadn’t noticed, over the noise of the team and the wind, that the Ugh had been making a tiny whining sound.

  He pulls more blanket off, looking and feeling around. Is he maybe checking for, like, an electronic heartbeat? Michael is inspecting the other end.

  Finally, they look up and Michael waves me closer, pointing to the other side of their position.

  I shake the reins and the team moves up past the now quiet blanketed monster. Michael ties a rope from the back of the wagon to the Ugh, then comes forward and grabs the team leader’s near rein. I climb down from my seat and walk up the hill to get Joe.

  Sir Jacob is still searching the Ugh.

  I coil the rope after Sir Jacob takes it off the Ugh. Joe and I return to the wagon.

  “Bloody trespassers, the guys who sent this. What nonsense are they engaged in?” says Sir Jacob quietly, as I ride up. “We may be able to tell, if I didn’t cock it up when I pulled the wires loose. Couldn’t find the bleeding off switch. The light stopped blinking, but it may not be entirely turned off.”

  He stands and heads over to the wagon, fiddling with something.

  I ask, “What’s next?”

  “We need to load the Ugh and get on down the trail. It is too valuable to abandon and too heavy to lift by hand. Thus, I need to deploy the crane. With the block and tackle we can raise it into the back here, behind the patients.”

  This is quickly accomplished with Joe as the pulling force.

  “Sir Jacob, once again, has a tool for every happenstance,” I say to Michael, after we are back in our places and rolling down the trail again.

  “Yep, quite the outfit,” says Michael, as he checks on the patients.

  “It pays to be prepared,” says Sir Jacob. “Michael, see if you can find some cloth to blindfold them for the remainder of the journey. And watch that the blindfolds stay in place.”

  Michael gets them all set. Sir Jacob wants to keep the location of his outfit a secret. Good idea.

  Couple of hours after dark we arrive, tired and stiff, from the long journey. We mo
ve the two invalids into the fortress. Sir Jacob has a fancy clinic room, hospital-like really, for the pair. Mitch and Crystal get a locked windowless store room. Sir Jacob tells me to be a nice girl and go hunt down chairs for them to sit in. I do, grudgingly. Still stung by the thought of having to share a planet with that bitch.

  We pull off the blindfolds. After a brief inspection of their swollen eyes, noses and mouths, his Lordship and Michael start pulling off the patient’s clothes and looking at ugly sores, bruises and the like on the rest of their bodies.

  I get out the bottle and give them each a steadying drink.

  “I will leave you to your doctorin’,” I say, “and go scare up a meal. Don’t get bamboozled by Crystal.”

  “Not to worry,” says Sir Jacob, threading a needle to stitch up some ugly cuts on Trixie’s face and legs. “She is locked in.”

  Michael is applying anesthetic.

  “She is a slippery minx.”

  We’ll be careful, Annie, I am familiar with her ways,” says Michael and, as I start to close the door. “Hey.”

  I stop and look back at him, raising my eyebrows.

  “The Albariño is in the cooler.”

  “Good.”

  We have a much-deserved meal. Roast beef sandwiches on homemade bread. Someone has been baking. Michael takes food down to the others. Sir Jacob and I we are soon savoring our wine in front of Sir Jacob’s rock fireplace. Michael joins us.

  “Hey, Sir Jacob, is that fancy painted deal up there over the mantle something special? It shore is pretty,” I say.

  “Well, yes, in fact, that is the Bridbury coat of arms, you see,” he says. “Here, we have the dragon for power over our foes. In this quadrant the lion, for ferocity in battle. Here the fox, for elusiveness in the field. The fourth holds the tiger, for tactical ingenuity. The crossed muskets are to commemorate the battle of Ionia. We Bridbury’s take great pride in our ancestral lineage and traditions.”

  “Wow.”

  “The Albariño was to your liking?”

  “Fabulous.”

  “Good. Let us switch now to brandy, we have a bit more to discuss before we sleep. One is hoping the brothers will also return before we retire.”

  Michael rises and gets the brandies. He seems very much at home. Nice thing to have, a home.

  “I’m curious,” I say. “This Ugh thing. We brought it in so they wouldn’t get it back, is that right?”

  “Yes,” says Sir Jacob. “It may be that the information it contains has yet to be transmitted.”

  “Oh? I would have thought that it linked straight to a satellite,” says Michael.

  “Yes, usually that would be the case. However, here on the Rock, the Centrists wish to keep us in primitive circumstance. On an irregular basis, they blast us with EMP’s to keep us in the dark, so to speak,” says Sir Jacob. “Therefore, I believe they are running a self-contained Ugh.”

  “Is there any way to use the Ugh ourselves, or is it dead?” asks Michael.

  “Ah. That is an excellent question. I do know a bit about such things. A wee bit. However, I am no robotician. I love to tinker though, so we shall see. Assuming, of course, it has survived the wild ride down the hill behind the crazed cowboy.” Sir Jacob looks at Michael with a twinkle in his eye.

  “Hey, I caught the sucker. Hogtied him and all,” Michael laughingly boasts.

  “It were somethin’ to watch,” I say, nodding my head at the memory. “Okay, I am off to the baths, care to join?”

  “We shall go in later, we must first double check on the patients. And assure ourselves that Mitch and Crystal can’t escape.”

  Michael adds, “I will find bedding for Mitch and Crystal.”

  “You will find it in the linen closet next to the baths,” says Sir Jacob.

  “Yeah,” I say, feeling the brandy. “that bitch.”

  “You have to admit, Annie,” says Michael, “she and Mitch turning us in on Terrania helped expedite our arrival here on the Rock. It turned out better for us in the end.”

  “True,” I admit, as I head out of the room, “but I hate to give that evil bitch credit for anything.”

  41 Buzzards