by Caryl McAdoo
McKenzie shook her head and kept on filling her pack. “Stuff it, Brother, and I am not your people. We need to get as many of these little jewels as we can carry. The Lord has provided, and I for one, am going to gather as many as possible.”
He ignored her and headed out. So sure that what? A hundred years ago? The Lord planted pecan trees in these straight lines so that he and the others would have nuts. After twenty or so steps, a gunshot echoed through the grove.
He froze then dropped to one knee and motioned to the rest to get down. With his hand cupped behind his right ear, he plugged his left then turned slowly from side to side, his eyes closed. A second shot rang out, followed several shouts. That definitely sounded too near for comfort, and seemed to be coming from directly in front of him.
He looked around. The others huddled together a few yards directly behind him. Hardly able to believe his bullheaded sister still picked up pecans around where she knelt, he touched his extended finger to his lips then pointed toward the north. All three nodded. Heading out, he stayed low and tried to walk as softly as the crunchy pecan hulls allowed. He reached the edge of the King’s Highway and waited for the others.
McKenzie put her mouth to his ear. “Why’d you come here?”
He hated explaining himself. His dad told him strong men never did, but perhaps he should make an exception, as his sister was liable to make a fuss even with some gun-happy idiot on the loose. He put his mouth to her ear. “The river’s south. I didn’t want to get trapped.”
“Okay. So now what?”
A third shot reverberated in the trees, this one still closer. From out of nowhere, Boggs bolted past him, racing with long strides, barking the deepest, meanest bark Jackson had ever heard coming out of a dog. A guy hurried toward Jackson’s position, passing the dog and holding his bloody side. Jackson stuck his head out from the cover to see what was going on.
Boggs continued his charge.
Another shot rang out. The grass behind the dog flew up.
The bleeding man—obviously running for his life—flew past as though unaware of Jackson’s presence. After the guy passed, Jackson leaned out a little farther. Another man, maybe fifty yards up, held out a pistol taking dead aim at the Pyr. Boggs bounded straight at him.
Without hesitation, Jackson jumped out into the clear. “Hey! Over here!”
“What are you doing? Are you crazy?” McKenzie grabbed at him.
The guy swung his gun toward Jackson.
He glanced toward the kids. “Stay put.”
The man fired. The grass fifteen yards ahead and to his left jumped up just as Boggs leapt onto the shooter. He fell backwards squealing like that pot-belly piglet his sister talked Dad into at a petting zoo. Vicious growls and fight sounds filled the afternoon. The dog seemed to ravage the man.
Jackson stepped back into cover. “Boggs got him.”
Cooper ran to him and hugged his waist. “I thought you got shot!”
“I’m okay, Bubba.”
“Thank God! Thank God! You scared me half to death!” McKenzie grabbed his arm. “What in the world were you thinking?”
“I didn’t want Boggs to get shot. Now you guys wait here.”
Both her hands shook wildly like she couldn’t stop frantically waving them. “But, but what about the shooting? And screaming? And that man who ran by holding his side? Was that blood?” Her eyes opened so wide, he could see the whites all the way around. He’d never seen anyone open their eyes like that before.
“Yeah, it was blood alright.”
“Did the shooter fire at you?”
“Yeah, but I knew he’d miss. Too far. He wouldn’t have missed Boggs though, and he was about to plug him if I hadn’t distracted him. Just wait here. I need to check on things.”
She grabbed his arm and glared. “You can’t do that! You can’t take chances like that! What if that guy had shot you?”
He pried her hand off his arm. “We can talk about it later. I want to see about Boggs now. Okay?”
Cooper took his hand. “I’m coming with you.”
Jackson smiled at his brother and kneeled in front of him. “I want you to stay with McKenzie. She needs you more right now. I’ll be back real quick.”
The little guy looked scared but let go of Jackson and took his sister’s hand.
Jackson looked at Al. “Stay.”
“Yes, sir.”
He leaned out into the open and looked both ways. Nothing. No dog. No dead guy. Nothing but the wide green highway looking perfectly peaceful. Keeping just inside the wood’s cover, he made his way toward where Boggs had attacked the man. He found the spot and picked up the man’s revolver. A blood trail led to the other side of the King’s Highway.
Jackson checked the pistol. Only one bullet remained in the cylinder. He stuffed it into his backpack then whistled softly and waited. He checked both ways then put two fingers to his mouth and blew one short loud blast. On the far side, the weeds and tall grasses bent. Boggs burst through and ran straight to him. He sat on his haunches, his muzzle stained with blood.
“You okay, boy?” He knelt and checked him out, loving on him in the process.
The dog gave him that smug, self-satisfied look.
It tickled Jackson, and he couldn’t help but laugh. He wrapped his arms around the big lug’s neck. “Maybe you are an alien after all. Whoever you are, whatever, I’m sure glad you decided to come with us.”
Jackson gathered the others and stayed just off the highway’s edge. Two hundred yards or so east, in amongst the ancient pecan grove that the pylons cut through, green, seven-leaf, head-high plants grew thick, and heavy with pods. Nestled in the trees, the stalks appeared entirely unnatural in the setting, out of place.
The earth at the base of each plant had been cleared and filled with pecan hulls with a small dike pulled up all the way around the hulls. Several plastic buckets stood at the ready next to a stack of shovels that leaned against a tree. One pail was filled with lots of smaller hand tools.
Al stepped next to him. “My, my, appears we have stumbled onto a Cannabis Indica operation.” He lifted one eyebrow. “Perhaps the rationale for the gunfight. From the magnitude of this, I must ascertain more individuals are involved than just our shooter and his victim.”
Jackson glanced over. Why couldn’t he just say pot or weed—even marijuana—like a normal kid? “Yeah, I agree. Best we move on fast before any other partners show.”
McKenzie grabbed his arm. “No, we need to burn every one of them first!”
Jackson looked at his goody-two-shoes sister. Would he ever understand how the girl’s mind worked?
“Absolutely not, Sis. We need to get as far away as fast as we can before anyone else shows. We do not need to advertise that we’re here.”
Boggs lay on his stomach with his muzzle resting on his front paws. Taking out that bad man had sapped his energy. He watched as the kids busied themselves dipping water from the good-sized pool Jackson had set up camp next to. They cooked it over a bigger fire than his master ever used then took great care pouring it into their empty bottles.
His favorite, the little one, left the fire and went over to the big one. “Hey, Jackson, haven’t we done enough? I’m hungry. When are we going to eat?”
“Pretty soon, Bubba.”
Boggs stood and wagged his flag tail. If his little Bubba was hungry, he’d best get to hunting. He thrashed out several hoppers, but failed to catch one before it ducked into its rabbit hole. Fox spore hung heavy, but he never got close enough to get eyes on the little sneak.
A sounder of hog rooted the north shore of the lake, but he didn’t much want to tangle with such a large herd of wild pig. If his new pack was canine instead of human, he’d love nothing better than to take down a feral hog. He loved pork, but hated those razor sharp cutters they sported.
Overhead, a tree rat mocked him, flicking its long bushy tail, but he never hunted squirrel much. The tree climbers barely offered a mouthful f
or all the creeping around it took to catch one on the ground. He decided to encircle where the kids huddled around their fire, see if he could scare up a hopper or a family of fat field mice.
Might not be enough to take to the boy, but it would put something in Bogg’s belly.
He loved the little fishes Jackson shared with him. They tasted great but seemed to vanish before they even left his mouth. How many would he have to eat to get full? Probably more than all the cans the children carried away from his master.
Ahead, a soft light shined. Boggs crouched and eased closer. Nothing or no one had been there earlier when he came through. A new scent drifted on the night breeze. He sniffed, but couldn’t place the smell. He belly-crawled in nearer for a better look. The pleasant odor grew stronger, and his mouth watered. He crept forward past a clump of sawgrass.
There in the middle of a small clearing, his master warmed his hands over a small fire. And whatever he roasted on that stick over the flames smelled delightful. He pranced over and rubbed his head against the man’s side, thrilled to be once more in his presence.
“Hello, Boggs.” His man patted him on the head, rubbing his ear to its end. He was an exceptional being, so full of kindness and love.
He laid his head in the master’s lap.
The man cut a big chunk of the stuff from the stick over his cook fire and extended it. “You hungry, boy?”
He took it even though he didn’t usually eat something if he didn’t know what it was, but since the master offered it…. Boggs loved him above all. The master had found him in a dire situation, dying. He rescued him and taught him how to be a good dog, that he could trust some. Not all were as abusive as the family he’d grown up with.
The chunk tasted great. He chewed it as long as he could, then wolfed it down.
He kept an eye on his man, hoping he might offer more, but a warmth spread through his belly, and his hunger pains vanished. He laid his head on his paws and snuggled in next to his master’s leg.
The man patted his shoulder. “You’re a good dog, Boggs. You’ve served the children well.”
For the longest, he rested then finally dozed off. Wild canine spore pulled him awake. A thousand stars still shone in the night sky. His master’s place was empty and where the fire had been, green grass grew as though a fire never burned there at all.
He jumped to his feet and tasted the breeze. Coyote! The varmint traveled down by the river. Boggs ran that direction just in time to see him wade in, wetting his mangy hide. He loosed a low rumble. The varmint turned, met his eye, then swam away from him toward the opposite bank. Probably for the best; his master didn’t like him chasing the wild ones anyway.
He turned toward where his kids camped. After only a few strides, a new spore hit his nostrils. At first, it didn’t much bother him, just a feral feline, but then he got a stronger whiff. He leapt forward and broke into a sprint, racing toward the camp.
A really big cat stalked his children.
CHAPTER SIX
Jackson’s eyes popped open. The hairs on his neck bristled. A sensation he’d never experienced before washed over him. He eased the blanket off then scooted away from McKenzie. Finding his backpack, he pulled out the revolver.
She sat up. “What are you doing?”
He searched the grey hues of false dawn, holding the pistol’s barrel straight down beside his far leg. “Hush. There’s something out there.”
“It’s just the dog. Lay back down, you’re making me cold.”
“No. It isn’t Boggs. Now hush, so I can listen.”
A deep growling grumble followed by a roar sent chills through his soul. A lion? Couldn’t be. What would a lion be doing in the Trinity River bottoms? More likely a cougar, but that’d be just as bad.
“Oh no. I heard that.” McKenzie jumped up and got behind him. “What was it?”
“A big cat of some kind. Wake the others and get everything together. Quick!” Jackson’s chest pounded. He wanted to run, but knew that would be dumb. If it was a lion, he couldn’t outrun it with all his charges. He had to do everything in his power to stop it there. He wished he had more bullets in the gun.
Only one chance for a kill shot.
From his left, a blur of white streaked toward him. Boggs reached him then turned and faced toward where Jackson figured the beast lurked.
Another roar pierced the still, cool air.
“Oh, God help us. Help us, Jesus.” McKenzie stuffed her pack full.
Boggs bellowed back a deep threatening bark.
“We need to get in the water.” Al helped Cooper put his stuff into his backpack.
Jackson glanced back. “Why?”
“Lions don’t like water.”
A closer roar sounded, followed by another challenge from Boggs.
Jackson held the pistol out, cocked and ready to shoot. “You sure?”
“Yes, they don’t like the crocodiles.”
McKenzie squealed, but softly. “Me either!”
A ray of hope danced through his heart. He glanced at his sister. “There are no crocs in Texas.”
“Precisely.” Al spoke with a cool calmness, not a hint of fear tainted his voice. “But the cat doesn’t know that. Most likely, it’s a male. Their roars can be heard by the human ear from as far as five miles away. He probably isn’t as close as he sounds.”
“Hope you’re right about that.” Jackson scooped up his pack and glanced around. The others had gathered everything. “Where’s the blanket?”
“I’ve got it.” McKenzie, on the other hand, sounded more scared than he’d ever heard her. She stepped out into the small lake. “Come on. The water’s not that cold.”
He backed to the shore’s edge. “Boggs.”
The big cat’s scream echoed through the river bottoms. Jackson’s throat tightened. It sounded close enough that he should be able to see him. But for once, he hoped Al was right. He searched the tree line. How could such an animal be in these parts? A lion could have escaped from the Marsalis Zoo. As the mockingbird flew, it wasn’t that far. What? Maybe only eight or ten miles?
Remembering his mother saying that, he smiled, but any mirth evaporated with the next roar.
Boggs’ neck hair stood straight up. He went into a barking tirade. What a brave animal. But would he have any chance against a cougar…or lion? Would he be as fast as the cat?
Why had Jackson ever left the apartment? Oh yeah—the gunshots and two dead people. Well, it might have been safe as long as he kept his siblings inside. Now he had them out in the open, their lives at risk again and again. It seemed dangers lurked everywhere. And if he didn’t make the right decision, they could all be eaten by a marauding jungle cat.
The beast howled again.
Boggs retreated to a spot right in front of him, barking viciously.
Even though Jackson had heard it before, the dog’s bark, so deep and ferocious, amazed him every time. Maybe that cat would think twice.
He held the gun up and stepped into the water. She was right; definitely warmer than the cool morning air. He took little steps backwards toward the others, continually searching the woods’ shadows for movement. Boggs stood right at the water’s edge. Jackson followed the others who waded almost waist high heading east.
The water lapped higher on Coop. Being mid-chest on him, the boy hefted his backpack onto his head. Hopefully, they were far enough out into the water to dissuade the lion from getting wet. After a hundred yards or so from where Jackson entered the little lake, the shoreline shot back into a creek or slough or whatever it was.
Stayed about waist deep on him, but his little brother struggled a bit.
What would he do if it got any deeper?
For a good half hour, he sloshed east, following the others. A couple of times, the lion roared, but each time, it seemed farther away. He hadn’t seen or heard any sign of Boggs since losing sight of the shore where they’d entered the water—no scrapping either. That was good. He hoped against hope
that the dog had eluded the big cat.
“Hey, Jackson.” Al waded off to his right toward the north shoreline.
“What?
“Look at this.” He pointed ahead. “I think it’s an island amongst these old gravel pits.”
Jackson studied the piece of ground. The nerd might be right. He slogged to McKenzie’s side then looped his elbow under Coop’s armpit.
His little brother smiled. “Thanks, Bro.”
He winked at him and nodded toward Al. “You check it out, man. We’ll wait here.”
After not too much time, Al returned. “Water on the entire perimeter. What do you say we engage in a bit of respite?”
“Works for me.” Jackson pulled Cooper through the water toward the bank then stepped ashore right behind him. He turned and held his hand out to his sister.
She grabbed it and let him pull her to dry land. She hugged herself. “You think we can have a fire? I’m so cold now.”
“Sure, and we’ll heat up a can of chili. That’ll help warm up our insides. Still got some crackers to go with it.”
“Ummm, wish we could have a chunk of cheddar, too.” She dropped her pack.
“And a tall glass of milk.” Cooper dropped his next to hers and looked at Jackson. “I know, I know. Gather wood.”
Jackson fished in his backpack until he found the matches. He knelt and gathered what dry grass and a few twigs lay around him. Soon, he had a small fire started. “Hey, guys, where’s my firewood?”
Cooper burst through the tall grasses. “Jackson, come see! It’s a girl! She’s real hot and sweaty.”
He stomped out the fire and ran after his brother. Thirty paces or so west, Cooper stopped and nodded toward a girl who lay curled in a small clearing under a young cedar elm. He dropped beside her and touched her forehead; hot and sweaty, just like his brother said. “Hey.” He lifted her head a little. “You awake?”
The girl’s eyes opened. She stared at him for a moment then spoke with a weak voice. “Who are you?”
His sister put her hand on his shoulder then sat cross-legged beside him. “He’s Jackson, and I’m McKenzie. What’s wrong with you? Are you sick?”
