The FrayA Chapter by Cherrie PalmerMary and our closest neighbors have been at odds with each other nine years. I like to call it ‘the battle of the rock.’ I cannot throw my hat in the ring with this war, because I like those neighbors, even if they raid our garden, and trample her petunias. She built her raised garden around an impressive red rock that she turned into a sun dial, and the tribe claims, 'squatters rights;' daily. I snap off a few more pictures of an impressive ram with a black coat, his ears and nose tipped white. The brut faces me broadcasting wide set horns that flare and arch all the way back, only to complete the rotation by spiraling upward once more. I close the shutter. Then, yell at the trip, “stay out of the turnips,” my laughter fell into the basin, silence returned, and I smiled. Remembering how Mary ran him out the garden
with a water hose.
I zoomed the lens of my Nikon to take a picture of five vultures riding a thermal
straddling an island of clouds and growing smaller with each
rotation. I adjust my Glock 19 that is digging in my hip to remove
my cell phone that just dinged. There is not much phone service up here but
given enough time a text will find you. I checked my message it is
Ted. My oldest friend, deputy, and all-around good guy. He lives a few miles
away. Well country miles, by vehicle 14, but on Nell a 15-hand trail horse only
10. I guess he wanted to join me for a trail ride.
[meet
me at Mel’s his grandson is missing!] [Jimmy,
3, snoopy pj’s, no shoes!]
Playtime just ended, I stuffed the camera in my shirt and hit the speed-dial, no good. So, I
texted him back and hoped it landed.
[on
Cracker be there in 15- call Mary so she can start calling all the neighbors]
I gave
Cracker his head and a firm tap to his ribs and we blazed a path working our way
to Mel Morrisons. He jumped a log then the gully and we started the ascent to
Mel’s cabin. I could hear the frantic voice of Betty Morrison.
“Jim," fear carried her words down the trail for all to hear, but no reply greeted her. "Jimmie, baby-honey, answer granny!”
The
trailing sound of her voice stopped. For several moments I heard nothing. Then
running. Aloud crashing of leaves as she called for Mel, screaming his name. Up
ahead the brush was too thick for my horse. I tied him off, yanked my rifle from
its scabbard and started to run. My knee protested with every stride, but I have
had lots of practice ignoring that old complaint, and pushed harder. I now heard Mel calling out to her.
“Betty!”
Mel yelled.
“Hurry!
Bring the gun! Hurry!”
As I
cleared the thicket, I saw Betty charging a cougar with a big stick. The boy laid crumpled on the ground motionless. So, I tuned my attention on Betty and
the cat.
“Betty, No!” Mel yelled, as he busted over the horizon at a dead run, but she could not hear him. Her mind, will and emotions tethered to the cat. Her screams filled the thicket, hyped on adrenalin I could not make out her words. For now all I could do was watch her stab at the cat with the
stick, while I looked for an opening.
She stood between me and the animal, I did not have a clear shot. I looked to Mel and couldn’t tell if he had a clean lane either.
The cat
charged in fast quick bursts. It slapped its front paws in the dirt with each progression, teeth
bared, and ears pinned. The cat reared up on hind legs lunging forward, and slashed her arm. Betty screamed out but held
her ground standing over her grandson. Before the cat could do another thing,
Shiner leapt on the beast and the two were a huge ball of hissing, biting, and flying fur. Somehow
the cat broke away and the chase pursued. I ran to the boy. He was alive, mauled but alive. His left hand looked bad, really bad. I removed my bandana and wrapped it. I worried he might lose his
little finger. However, considering how this could have gone, I felt
grateful, to hear him begin to cry.
Ted
rode up on Nell. I motioned for him to keep going. “Stay with them, I’ll be
right behind you.” I quickly gave Mel and Betty instructions, Shiner’s bark
marked the way, as Ted and I followed the fray. © 2020 Cherrie PalmerReviews
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5 Reviews Added on November 7, 2020 Last Updated on November 21, 2020 AuthorCherrie PalmerSpringfield , MOAboutI am a published poet and love poetry. After a lifetime of country living, I'm making a move back to town. I find my surroundings a great inspiration to me. I also have two books on Amazon Kindle: .. more..Writing
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