Trouble in the Air

"Ted, double back to the dry creek bed. Look for any signs of the cat. I'll do the same over here. Fire one round if you get a lead; otherwise, meet back here in fifteen. That cat is hurt, not injured enough to lay low, but just enough to be looking for trouble." 

Ted wheeled his horse around, gave a wave, and trotted off. 

"Keep your head on a swivel!" 

Again, Ted waves as he moves around the bend. Watching my friend ride away, I am confident this is the final leg of our quest. What will happen I am certain of, only when and where remains unknown.

The horse trail up ahead is free of tracks. So, I study the rocks for any recess. However, as I check the landscape above me, all I see are dark clouds building. The adjacent ridge booms straight into the air like a razor, or maybe an alien moon crater. The vista surrounding me looks naked and undone. I hope the north wind lays down a fresh blanket of snow. 

An ancient tree jets over the lands-edge. It has grown in a vertical direction laying a path across open air. Down below discloses a catwalk. The hard earth anchors the Juniper into the hillside, and I make good use of it. As I explore the area, my hunch is confirmed. The cat rested here for a bit, leaving behind a pool of blood. The trail is still fresh, but neither the dog nor I can follow from here. So, I return to my mount and check for Ted.

As the crow flies, that descent is a shortcut to my neighbors, the wild goat tribe. "Yes," I think or, "maybe, to my pond," where I first spied his tracts. I feel panic pour over me. The need to race my imagination back to my cabin floods neural pathways. The echo of my sidearm rings out, calling Ted. Instinct has this cat running from me, but I fear where his jog will end. I am just about to fire another round when I spy Ted.

"What's up?"

"I don't know, fear, mostly, I am heading to the cabin to check on Mary."

"I hate it when you have bad-vibes. Because epic events always follow."

"I don't get vibes. You know I'm not some New-Age Nut. Come on, let's ride, Yogi."

"Oh, you're better than those zin-masters. You're more of 'Shitstorm Whisper.'" 

The two men bust out in laughter and head for the cabin.

Daylight is shelved behind the waning sun, and I smile as the solar conchos from the breast collar light up the ground.

"We're going to retire and make a mint peddling those," Ted says.

"Yeah, maybe, so."

Dancing crystals fill the sky, announcing the coming storm. We get to the hillside the goats claim as their own. Hours earlier, I took pictures of this very spot bustling with activity, but now, nothing can be seen in any direction.  

The cold air is charged with hostility. Cracker's ears are twitching, and a fight is brewing just out of sight. I lay my rifle across my lap. Before I can tell Ted to do the same, I hear it slide from its roost.  

The front edge of the storm rushes across us, releasing large wet snowflakes, and I wonder why I asked for snow? A dark shape cuts across my peripheral vision disappearing behind me. Ted and his horse tumble to the ground. 

I slide off Cracker.  To find Ted is pend by his horse. Finally, the horse stands, propelling the cat with a hard kick, both animals runoff.

"Can you ride double?"

"Nope."

I take a second look to find blood pouring down his boot, and spy the thin  tree stump that impelled this thigh.

"Give me your belt!" I bark. I pull it as tight as it will go around his thigh. "Get out your Glock. You're going across the saddle," and belly down on the saddle, I move him. 

"Bad Idea." Ted groans. 

"Well, leaving you here is a worst one. We only have a mile to go."

"More like three, but lets, get it done."

I send Mary a text, [Rogue Cougar near house, stay put] and hope she gets it. 

I climb on behind the saddle and work our way around the ridge. We can hear Ted's horse crashing through the trees. "It'll be alright I'll round her up. As soon as we take care of you."

"If she's hurt bad," he breaks off.

"I'll take care of it. Right now, just listen for the cat." Of course, I do not think for one second we will hear that outlaw, but I hope it will keep us on guard. 

Cracker and I both jump as a thud hit the ground. Ted is unconscious and has dropped his handgun. I can see the lights of the cabin and quickly close the gap to the front door. I am sure the cat is waiting. I fireman's carry my friend up the front steps. That is when I hear the low hiss of the cat. Ted is on my left shoulder, so is the animal.

Somewhere just out of sight, the outlaw lurks. He is close enough that I can hear the throaty growl that reverberates in his throat. 

The front porch lights are off, and I wonder where Mary is? A creaking sound comes from the potting shed located behind us. The cat springs upon the railing. I pull at  my weapon, but a muzzle flash streaks the night. The cat screams. I quickly unload two additional rounds to its chest. Then, silence.

Mary yells to me. "Is that Ted?"

"It is. The keys to the Yukon are in my pocket.  Come  get'm and pull it around for us, and I thought I told you to stay put?"

"You're welcome, my dear," she says with a cocky smile, "and I did. I was in the potting shed when I got the text."

"Love you, baby." I say.

"I love you too, man," Ted replies.

All three of us laugh as I drive us to town.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

Hello dear Cherrie. A very good story. I liked the pace of the story. You gave enough to keep the reader reading and interesting. Good morning from Michigan and thank you for sharing the excellent chapter.
Coyote

[Cherrie Palmer]

thank you, I try to balance the need for the reader to use their imagination and enough details to give the story life.