by Bill Wallace
Chapter 21
“My hero!”
The voice was so loud it shook a little clump of snow from a bare creosote branch just above Thunder’s head. He gave a snort. Blowing it off his beak, he glanced up.
Agile’eka raced toward him. Rocket was headed his way, too. He was a bit behind because he kept stopping to preen his feathers. “You are so brave, Thunder.” Agile’eka swooned. “You are so wonderful. My hero.”
She rushed to his side, fluttered her eyelashes, and rubbed her cheek against his neck feathers. Thunder didn’t even bother to get up. “That was like totally awesome,” Rocket cooed as he strutted up. “I mean, the way you landed on that coyote’s head. Hit her so hard it jammed her nose clear under the snow. I never saw a coyote flip over and land on her back before. Neat trick, man. You’ll have to teach me how to do that one of these days.”
Thunder just sighed and shook his head. Agile’eka sat down and nestled against his wing. “I’m so glad you came back to me. I thought you might never return. I’ve waited so long. Now we can . . .”
“Waited so long?” Thunder repeated, arching his eyebrows.
Agile’eka blinked. “Yes. You’ve been gone over a season and . . .”
“And you waited for me? All this time?”
“Well . . . I . . . ah . . .” She stopped stammering long enough to clear her throat. “None of that matters now. You’re back. Now we can be together again—forever.”
Frowning, Rocket strutted up, preened a wing feather, and looked at her. “What about us?” he asked.
Agile’eka ignored him. Rubbed her beak against Thunder’s wing. “Thunder is the bravest, strongest roadrunner in all the world. I want him!”
When Thunder stood, he gave her a little nudge to get her off the wing she was rubbing. Since his wings were stronger than he thought, the little nudge almost sent her rolling. “Trouble is,” Thunder said, “I don’t want you.”
“You don’t want me?” Agile’eka gasped, her beak gaping wide in disbelief.
Thunder smiled and shook his head. “Nope.”
Eyes tight, she bristled and stared at him—but for only a moment. “Come on, Rocket,” she snapped, turning toward him and stomping off. “I hate this valley. Coyotes. Bobcats. Now it’s overcrowded. Too many roadrunners.”
“But . . . but . . .” he stammered.
“Oh, shut up, Rocket. Quit preening. And come on!”
Thunder watched as they walked toward a hill to the west. It had been a long day. The noon sun was high. Most of the snow was gone from the valley. All that was left of it were stripes and patches in the shade. He sat down to relax. No sooner had he settled beneath the bush, when something nudged his foot.
“MOVE!”
Startled, he sprang straight up. Snapping branches with his powerful hop, he crashed through the creosote bush and landed at the very top. Looked down.
There was a digging sound. Snow caved in beneath the footprints where he sat. Berland’s head, feet, and shell popped through. “Guess you’re a little smarter than I gave you credit for, kid.”
“Huh?”
“Getting rid of Agile’eka. Smart move. You hadn’t been gone a day when she started flirting with Brisk. When he wouldn’t have anything to do with her, she started in on Rocket. And even after they hitched up, she was after every roadrunner who happened to wander through this valley. Never seen anything like that gal. You’re better off without her.”
“I know,” Thunder said with a sigh, hopping down to sit beside his friend. Still . . . inside . . . he felt a bit sad and lonely.
“So how you been doing? Looks like you’ve been eating well. Ever find your rock?”
“Yes. It took me a while, but I found it.”
“Been practicing your flying?”
Thunder would show Berland. He knew the old tortoise would be impressed and proud of him. He might even wait a little while, go get his rock, and drop it beside the burrow so Berland could see for himself. But not right now. So all he said was, “I practiced some.”
Frowning, Berland glanced back toward the valley. “What’s with all the crows? When I crawled in my burrow last night, there were two sitting in that cottonwood, across the creek. Now there’s eight or nine of those noisy things.”
Thunder hadn’t even noticed until Berland mentioned it. Berland tilted his head to the side, listening. “That’s the trouble with crows,” he said. “With all of ’em trying to talk at the same time, makes ’em darned hard to understand. Something about an eagle who can run faster than a coyote.”
Berland laughed. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I ever heard. Eagles and hawks are great in the air, but they can barely hop on the ground, much less run. You seen Speedette and Brisk?”
“On the ridge over there.” Thunder pointed with his beak.
Berland stretched his neck. “Looks like they’re watching something down by the cattails. Oh, it’s Winterfat. She’s got a bloody nose. Wonder what happened to her.”
“Must have bumped into something.”
About then, another coyote came stumbling and sloshing out of the cattails. Black, gooey, sloppy mud dripped from his belly and haunches. Berland frowned at him. Then he turned and frowned at Thunder. “You didn’t let Scruffy chase you across those cattails again, did you? Not while Winterfat was around. Don’t you know how dangerous that is? What if she’d circled the cattails and had been there waiting for you?”
“She didn’t even see me,” Thunder said. “She was busy with something else.”
They sat for a while, Thunder resting, Berland trying to listen to the crows and figure out what all the chatter was about. When he noticed Thunder staring longingly at the hill to the west, he glanced that way too. Agile’eka and Rocket were almost to the top. Almost out of sight.
“Do kind of feel sorry for Rocket,” Berland said.
“Don’t bother,” Thunder snorted. “He’s just as bad as she is. I met this girl roadrunner a couple of valleys back. She thought Rocket was her boyfriend. He’d told her he wanted to be her mate. They’d raise a family together. Didn’t bother to tell her he already had a mate. Don’t feel sorry for him. Rocket and Agile’eka deserve each other.”
“What was her name?”
Thunder frowned. “Whose name?”
“The girl you met.”
Thunder thought a moment, then shrugged. “Don’t think I got her name.”
“Was she kind of plump? Cute face? Long legs?”
Thunder shrugged. “Cute face, all right. Never did see her legs. She was sittin’ on ’em—feeling sorry for herself because Rocket dumped her. But she definitely wasn’t plump. Fact is she was so depressed she hadn’t eaten in two days. If she didn’t get up and hunt, she may not have made it.”
Berland’s neck stretched farther than Thunder had ever seen. He squinted. Frowned. “Maybe she’s not plump. Maybe she’s just got her feathers all ruffled. Maybe she’s just mad.” He looked back at Thunder. “Think you might be in trouble, kid.”
Once Thunder found what Berland was talking about, once he saw the roadrunner walking down the valley, once his head was pointed in the right direction, not only could he see her, he could hear her, too.
“Where do you get off calling me lazy?” she clattered. Only the clattering was so loud and shrill and mad it sounded more like the call of a screech owl. “And don’t even try to hide from me! I know you’re down here. I found that stupid rock you were carrying around. Sooner or later, I’m gonna find you. And when I do . . .”
Suddenly, Berland’s head and front legs drew inside his shell. “Oh, no!” the old tortoise gasped. “It’s Tess!”
Chapter 22
His eyes were keener than any other roadrunner’s. He was more watchful than any other roadrunner. Still Thunder had not seen a movement. The wind hadn’t blown. The air was still as death itself—not even the slightest breath to twitch the long whiskers or wiggle the sharp tufts of hair at the peaks of the ear. The crows didn
’t even tell.
But they did show him where Tess was. Seven cottonwoods lined the dry streambed. Crows cawed and jabbered in only six of them. On a low branch, behind the gnarled trunk of the farthest tree, Thunder saw the pointed ear. A yellow eye peeked around the trunk. Totally motionless. Waiting for the angry roadrunner to get just . . . a little . . . closer.
“No!” Berland said when Thunder got to his feet. “It’s too late, kid. Even the fastest roadrunner couldn’t run that far in time to warn her.”
Thunder crouched. “I know.”
With that, he sprang into the sky. There was movement. From high above the cottonwood tree, Thunder finally saw it. Cats usually wiggle their rear ends right before they pounce. The stub tail twitched. Thunder’s powerful wings clamped tight against his sides. Aimed for the soft spot, right where the little, stub tail joined Tess’s backbone.
“Come out and face me, you coward.” The girl roadrunner was almost to the tree, oblivious to the bobcat, and still yelling. “You can’t hide from me forever. And when I find you . . .”
Her back compressed and tight as a coiled spring, the bobcat leaped! Sharp front claws reached out—aiming where her prey was. Hind legs exploded.
Faster than a bolt of lightning chasing a spring storm, Thunder dived from the sky. An instant before Tess’s hind feet left the limb where she hid, his sharp beak struck!
Tess snarled and squalled. The impact threw her jump off. She intended to land on the young roadrunner. Instead, the sudden pain sent her flying straight—right into another branch of the cottonwood.
Small limbs snapped as she broke through them. Stub tail and back spinning, she managed to catch a large limb with the very tips of her claws.
Thunder hopped to the limb beside her. Cat eyes, full of anger and hate, glared up at him. Thunder smiled down at her. Then he pecked the back of her paw.
When she yanked it away, Tess lost what little grip her claws had on the branch. Hissing and spitting, she fell.
Cats always land on their feet. Thunder had heard that someplace . . . from someone. That’s why it kind of surprised him when Tess hit flat on her back. She yowled again when a sharp stone stabbed her.
The girl roadrunner was gone. She streaked across the creek and ran for the far ridge. Tess lay still for quite a while. Finally, she managed to roll over and get to her feet. Crows cawed and laughed. Flipping her tail, the bobcat strolled back toward the lower canyon as if nothing had happened. Thunder waited until he was sure she was gone, then he flew back to join his friend.
For the first time in his life, Berland was speechless. He stood there, mouth agape, staring at Thunder for a long, long . . . really long . . . time. At last he closed his mouth and cleared his throat. “Does the word ‘overachiever’ mean anything to you?” he asked.
Thunder shrugged his wings. “Not really. What does it mean?”
“Okay, kid. When I told you about finding the rock to hold on to while you practiced flapping your wings, I meant just make them strong enough to get those big feet of yours off the ground. You know—so you could get away from predators. I didn’t say anything about circling around like a buzzard in the sky. Then you do a nosedive like a falcon. On top of that, you attack a bobcat! Roadrunners do not attack bobcats or . . . or . . .”
He stopped jabbering a moment to stare. “That eagle the crows were talking about . . . the one that can run faster than a coyote . . . that, ah . . . that wouldn’t happen to be you, would it?”
Thunder shrugged again. All Berland could do was roll his eyes and shake his head.
“There you are!”
Thunder and Berland both jerked and looked around. “I knew I’d find you! How dare you call me lazy! I’ll have you know that yesterday I caught three mice. This morning I chased down a kangaroo rat. He was huge and could run and hop like a jackrabbit. No lazy roadrunner could do that. Just where do you get off calling me—”
Thunder raised his head crest and flapped. The wind that raced from beneath his powerful wings fluttered her ruffled feathers. “Excuse me,” he interrupted. “Do you realize that I just saved your life? The least you could do is say, Thank you.’ ”
Her ruffled feathers smoothed. She stood very straight. “I am sorry. Just because you have no manners doesn’t mean I should be rude, too. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Thunder said with a smile.
“But if you think all that flopping and flying around impressed me, you’re badly mistaken,” she squawked. “Carrying that stupid rock around. That’s crazy. I bet I could find me a rock or two, and with a little practice I could do just as well as you. Better even!”
Thunder ruffled his feathers. “What do you mean no manners?”
“You told me to quit feeling sorry for myself, and get up off my LAZY tail feathers,” she huffed. “That’s just downright rude!”
“But when you said you were ugly or homely, I also told you I thought you were cute. Remember?”
“I remember.” Her feathers ruffled again, making her look almost twice as big. “I bet every girl you meet, you tell her how BEAUTIFUL she is. With me it’s . . . CUTE! Thanks a lot.”
Thunder shrugged his wings. “Well . . . I like cute.”
“Kid’s got a temper, doesn’t she?” Berland whispered from beside him.
“Sure does,” Thunder whispered back, “but she is kinda cute.”
“That’s rude, too,” she snapped.
“What?” Thunder stepped back, almost hiding behind Berland.
“Whispering. You and . . . and your friend . . .” She arched an eyebrow and glared down at the tortoise.
Berland, who didn’t appreciate being stuck between the two, had drawn his neck part way inside his shell. “Pardon me for not introducing myself,” he said, sticking his neck out once more. “My name is Berland.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Berland,” she said politely.
“And your name?” he asked.
Suddenly her ruffled feathers began to flatten. She turned her head. “I’m Berland,” the tortoise repeated. “And you are . . . ?”
There was a long . . . LONG . . . silence. The girl roadrunner took a step or two, as if to walk away, then sank to sit on the ground. Ducking her head and not looking at either of them, she answered, “Tripsalot of the Racer Clan.”
“Tripsalot?” Thunder asked.
Still not looking at either of them, she sighed. “When I was little, I was sort of clumsy. My parents didn’t think I had a chance to survive. The day of The Naming, I got kind of excited. I was chasing a dragonfly and stumbled over my own stupid feet. They named me the only thing they could. Tripsalot.”
“And what is his name?” Crows cawed from above. “What is his name?” Others joined in. “What is his name? Tell us his name!”
Thunder didn’t look at them. Instead, he stepped right over Berland and sat down beside Tripsalot. “Hi,” he cooed softly. “My name is Thunder of the Foote Clan. It’s nice to meet you . . . again. You want to go find something to eat?”
“I don’t know.” She gave a little snort.
“His name is Thunderfoot!” The crows screamed as they flew away.
Thunder leaned closer. “We could hang out a little. Get to know one another. Might be fun.”
She snorted again. “Well, first off you’re not that handsome. And all that flying around . . . I bet you’re just a showoff. And . . . and . . .”
He got to his feet and smiled down at her. “There are lots of dragonflies near the cattails. Come on.”
Finally, she shrugged her wings and stood beside him. “Oh, all right. Guess it’s better than sittin’ home alone to rot.”
It wasn’t much of a compliment. This might be more of a challenge than learning how to fly, Thunder thought to himself. He smiled anyway, because she WAS kinda cute. Berland slipped quietly and unnoticed into his burrow.
The End (Maybe)
Still hidden behind the mesquite tree with the wide trunk, Thunder leaned t
oward his friend. He wanted to ask, again, if the old tortoise remembered. But as their eyes met, the look told him there was no need. Memories of a lifetime had spun through their heads in those few moments. Memories of friendship, and trust, and . . . yes . . . even love, were clear as the blue desert sky.
Berland smiled at Thunder. Thunder smiled back.
• • •
“Some say they still live in their Valley of Paradise,” the father roadrunner continued, his three children listening to his every word. “Others say that a giant eagle tried to steal one of their babies. They chased him to the sky. Chased him past the moon, beyond the sun, clear above the stars. And they are still chasing them to this very day.
“The name of Thunderfoot is sacred. No other roadrunner will ever be given that name, from now until the end of time. The name Tripsalot is also revered. No other roadrunner will ever be given that name.
“The legend of the greatest roadrunners must be remembered. It must be passed down from one generation to the next.”
• • •
“That’s it,” Thunder whispered. “Flew past the moon and the sun to chase an eagle. This is the stupidest, most unbelievable story I’ve ever heard.
“First off, I didn’t grab that bobcat and fly up in the air with her. I just kinda nudged her off that branch. And nobody smashed a bobcat with a boulder. Tess came back only three or four more times. The first time, I dropped my rock close to her, and she ran off. The next time, I was sitting on our nest. Tripsalot had been practicing her flying, too. She grabbed her two rocks and dropped both of them. One of them hit Tess, but it didn’t hurt her all that much.” He looked at Berland and shook his head. “Where do they get all this stuff?”
“They got it from Tess and Winterfat and Scruffy. Brisk, Speedette, even Rocket and Agile’eka told. The crows were there, too. Remember? The legend has spread through the entire desert.”
