Right Out of Nowhere

by Laurie Salzler

  So she’d come full circle. Only this time she felt she might have finally resolved some things. She felt better about the situation with Beth. Marginally. Her vivid imagination about what Kim was doing with Selena kept turmoil rolling in her gut. Maybe she shouldn’t have eaten all that food. She closed her eyes again and rolled onto her right side. A low growly groan sounded from the foot of her bag.

  “Go to sleep, grumpy.”

  She woke the next morning to rushing water and lilting birdsong. She pushed her arms out of the sleeping bag and stretched. Puller crawled up from the depths onto her chest and licked her face.

  “I guess we should get a move on, shouldn’t we, little man.”

  She looked to the sky and was surprised to see the sun higher than she would’ve expected. “I can’t remember the last time we slept past dawn.” She waited for Puller to exit completely and then got up, stretched, and yawned some more. She looked for the horses and found them grazing a few hundred feet downstream.

  Deep under the ashes, the fire was still warm. She stirred the embers and added a few sticks of kindling. While waiting for flames to cut through the smoke and catch hold, she eyed the river. Just upstream between a couple big rocks was a deep pool where the water was quieter. It would be a cold wash, but she felt grungy enough to dare it.

  Satisfied with the fire when the blaze licked the wood and took hold, she stripped down naked, tossed her clothes on the sleeping bag, but kept her boots on to protect her feet from the sharp rocks for the walk up. She stood with a hand on a boulder for balance, took her boots off, and dipped her toe into the water. “Eek, that’s cold!” Summoning up all the courage she could muster, she jumped in. All the breath she had in her lungs escaped her in a huge gasp as she hit the frigid water.

  Despite her chattering teeth, she reached down and took a handful of fine sand and rubbed it over her body. She submerged herself and dunked her head one more time before the frigid water became too much. She rubbed the goose flesh on her arms, slid into her boots, and ran to the fireside. Her teeth continued to click for a few minutes. She crossed her arms over her chest and jumped up and down to raise her body temperature. In that short time, she was sure it had dropped a few degrees. If she’d stayed in much longer, she would’ve been hypothermic for sure. Her SAR instructor would have her head if she knew she’d pulled that stunt alone.

  Bright sun dried her skin and helped warm her up. She pulled a clean change of clothes from her saddlebag and got dressed. Refreshed and revitalized, she set about making some breakfast and coffee. She wasn’t in a hurry. There was nobody back at the cabin waiting for her, although she did wonder how the other horses fared in her absence. She had plenty of food with her, so it wouldn’t be an issue if she had to stay on the trail for another night.

  A little over an hour later, she broke camp and got the horses ready to go. Puller danced and yipped in anticipation as she put her foot in the stirrup and mounted Chenoa.

  “Okay, mister, lead the way.” She laughed aloud as Puller took off with his little rat-tail held high like a waving flag for her to follow.

  It was a beautiful day to ride, and she entertained herself by taking in the scenery. Two miles later, she had to dismount and allow a less than enthusiastic Puller into her vest. She knew when he lowered his tail and started to lag behind, his short little legs had run out of gas. As usual, he rode with his head out eyes at half-mast.

  The steam from the hot springs rose invitingly. She ignored the temptation to stop for a soak this late in the day. If she pushed on, she could be back at the cabin by dusk. If not, she’d spend one more night on the trail. She looked longingly at the heated pools as she rode by. Her shoulders and legs ached from the exertion of walking up and down the steep, slippery mountainside carrying medical and food supplies. In a few days, she promised herself. She clucked to Chenoa and all the horses broke into a trot. They seemed to sense they were relatively close to their temporary summer home in the mountains.

  Just before the ground started to rise at the base of the mountain, Chenoa raised his head high and pricked his ears. He planted his front feet and slid to a dead stop, surprising Roni out of her riding cadence and thrusting her forward. Only by catching herself with a hand to the horn of the saddle did she keep from suddenly going ass over tin cup over the horse’s head.

  “What the hell, Chenoa!”

  The strong ammonia smell of cat urine assaulted her nose. The horses behind her snorted in alarm and danced around nervously.

  “Come on, let’s go.” She dug her heels into Chenoa’s sides, and he leapt forward, causing the others to follow.

  She kept an eye peeled overhead and hoped she wasn’t riding into an ambush. If the mountain lion lurked in the trees above and dropped onto one of the horses, it would mean certain death for it, if not all of them, including her. Roni untied the packhorse lead from her saddle horn and led the string by hand. She didn’t breathe easy until they broke from the trees into the meadow. The cabin, albeit empty, was a welcome sight. Unfortunately there was no sign of the horses she’d left behind. A chill crept up her spine, and her pulse increased with dread. She watched Chenoa’s ears for an indication that the cat had been there. But her concern was unfounded. He seemed relaxed, as did the other horses as they came to a halt in front of the cabin.

  It was too late and too dangerous to ride out in search of the missing horses. Roni had no way to tell when they’d wandered off. She’d have to go looking for them tomorrow. Unfortunately, it was just one more thing to add to her level of anxiety. Selena was foremost on her mind, although she’d done her damndest not to allow thoughts of her to interrupt her daily routine. Nevertheless, it was to no avail. It didn’t matter that the kisses they shared were amazing. It didn’t matter that seemingly they both felt the attraction for each other. She was now competing with Selena’s past. A past named Kim. How could she vie for a woman who left in a helicopter with her ex-lover when she didn’t know when she’d be back? Or if she’d even come back.

  She was up well before the sun and had breakfast and coffee on the porch. Puller lay curled up next to her. She felt him tremble and absently pulled him closer.

  “You should’ve stayed inside next to the fire, little man.”

  She’d intentionally left him in the cabin, thinking he’d find it too cold to be out yet. Halfway through her sausage and eggs, he scratched at the door and insisted on joining her. She guessed the scent of the lion unnerved him. Either that or he was lonely too.

  There was no way she’d be able to detect where the horses had entered the woods until the sun had risen high enough over the treetops. She closed her eyes and pulled a deep breath into her lungs. She’d slept fitfully and never really reached a full slumber. Images of Selena kept playing on the inside of her eyelids, and she tossed and turned in an effort to shut them off.

  Earlier, when she got out of bed, she felt like she had a hangover headache. The crash recovery, the long ride back, the lion, the missing horses . . . and Selena, had all taken a toll on her emotionally and physically. She’d shuffled into the bathroom and splashed cold water on her tanned face to try to wake up. She caught sight of herself in the mirror, and her eyes were glassy and surrounded by dark raccoon-like circles. Wrinkles at the corners of her mouth accentuated the frown on her drawn face. High cheekbones indicative of her Native American heritage pulled her skin taut and gave the woman staring back at her a haunted look. “Fuck, Oatman, you look like death warmed over you.”

  For the first time in her life, she was in no mood to get back in the saddle, let alone spend hours tracking the horses. She was too tired and too distracted. It was a dangerous combination of ingredients, and she was thankful she wasn’t conducting an official search. It was easy to overlook or blatantly miss subtle signs and clues in her condition. If faced with the same circumstances, she doubted Jeff would attempt it.

  But she needed to find the horses. The string they’d used for the plane search was tired and n
eeded rest and grazing time. She’d be up shit’s creek if another call came in. Fresh horses were a vital necessity when lives were at stake.

  She opened her eyes an hour later feeling somewhat refreshed from a short nap. At some point Puller had crawled onto her lap. She must have really been out of it.

  “All right, you, come on. We need to head out and find those rotten, ungrateful beasts.”

  She poured the dog off her lap and pushed herself up. Her back and knees cracked with the effort as she stretched to wake up her tired, sore muscles. She gathered her plate and coffee cup and strolled inside with Puller right on her heels.

  Outside again, with rifle in hand, she took a walk around the perimeter of the meadow, hoping to find some indication of where the horses had gone. By the time she walked the entire circumference of the field, her muscles were loose and she felt much better.

  Her first thought was that the horses tried to follow the large string she and Selena had taken with them. That’s where she started her search. She didn’t have any success at the trailhead so decided to work clockwise. She found several spots where the horses had gone into the trees to escape the sun and bugs, but she could find nothing beyond that. Where the hell did they go? They couldn’t have just vanished into thin air. She squinted against the sun and felt like an incompetent idiot as she turned in a circle.

  “How can I miss sign from five horses?”

  As herd animals, the horses would have moved together whether they were running from something or just wandering away.

  Frustrated, she strode back to the cabin. She collected her saddlebag, attached the scabbard onto her saddle, and whistled for Chenoa. As the paint came to her, she could see he was tired. He carried his head low, and his walk wasn’t nearly as animated as usual.

  “I know, big guy. I promise you’ll get a nice long break for this,” she said, patting him on the neck. A few minutes later Chenoa was saddled and ready to go.

  Puller whined and scratched the door from inside the cabin. She felt badly about leaving him, but was uneasy taking him. She didn’t know what she’d find or if she’d happen across the mountain lion at some point. Worrying about Puller’s safety was a distraction she could do without.

  She rode fifty feet into the woods and began her circle. It wasn’t until she neared the cabin from the opposite direction that she found what she was looking for: deep hoofprints indicating the horses were running when they left the meadow. Her blood ran cold when she spotted a track of the mountain lion tramped into one of the hoofprints. The distance between paw prints signified it had been in hot pursuit. “Crap.” She pulled the rifle from the scabbard and cocked a bullet into the chamber.

  A hundred feet in, the horses split up but headed in the same direction. It made their sign a little more difficult to follow, but once she was on to one horse, she probably was on the trail of the others as well.

  About a mile into her pursuit, she saw a spattering of dried blood between two large rocks. She reined Chenoa to a stop and looked around for more blood, or God forbid, a carcass. Seeing nothing, nor a flock of circling vultures, she urged Chenoa onward. About every seven feet, or as she calculated, every stride, drops of blood had hit the ground. She’d never known a lion to chase its prey this far. Wolves, yes, but a lion shouldn’t have this much stamina.

  The trail she’d been following went downhill gradually and ran along the hillside. Suddenly it dipped down into a thick patch of alder. Roni saw where the horses had trampled individual swaths through it. The blood was more frequent, and she dreaded what she would find on the other side.

  Muttering some colorful curse words as she fought thorn-like brambles, she looked up after Chenoa stumbled out of the dense brush that left scratches on both of them. Ferns grew lush on the floor of the red cedar forest. If she weren’t in such a hurry, she would’ve stopped to admire the tall giants. Another six hundred yards and the evergreens gave way to a thin stand of white-barked birch teeming with small birds nesting in the canopies. The going was much easier, and she let Chenoa grab mouthfuls of grass along the way.

  Finally she saw them. Relief washed over her as she counted five horses grazing in the prairie beyond. Chenoa whinnied a greeting, and all heads rose in their direction. She shoved the rifle into the scabbard and rode forward. As the strays trotted toward her, she watched for any indication that one of them was hurt. Sparky lagged behind, pinned his ears, and seemed to swish his tail in aggravation. She narrowed her eyes and observed him more closely as she dismounted.

  The small herd surrounded her. None of the first four were injured.

  “Hey, Sparky,” she said in a quiet voice and turned sideways to invite him to come to her.

  The red horse came within five feet and stopped. He tossed his head and stomped his feet, seemingly hesitant to venture closer. She waited until all the horses began grazing again. She walked a slow circle around them until she stood behind Sparky. On either side of his haunches were the telltale claw marks from the big cat, the obvious source of the blood she’d been seeing. The wounds had scabbed over, and she was happy to find none appeared infected. She’d have to wait to examine Sparky more thoroughly when she got them back to the cabin. It was a wonder how he managed to survive the attack, but thankfully it wasn’t worse.

  The horses were all familiar with Chenoa, so Roni had no problem getting them to follow her. She hoped the faint smell of the cat wouldn’t hinder their desire to remain in the herd. Although she’d seen no fresh sign of the mountain lion, she pulled the rifle and held it at the ready just in case. The noise of six horses might draw it in to attempt another attack.

  The horses became alarmed in only two spots on the way back. Roni spoke to them in a calm, assertive voice and they hesitated only briefly before continuing to follow Chenoa. She at last had them all back as the sun slipped across the sky leaving behind the beginnings of a clear cold night.

  She ate her dinner on the cabin steps with the rifle by her side. She hadn’t hobbled the horses in case the cat came back. If it did, she’d be ready. She intended to spend the night keeping watch over the horses and needed Puller to help her. Her first thought was to leave him inside by the fire, but then she remembered him growling and alerting her at the hot springs. In the event she fell asleep, she counted on Puller to do it again.

  After dinner, she dressed in warm clothes and shrugged into her long fleece coat. If she were going to be up all night, she’d make sure she was comfortable. At least she could take a break every couple of hours to stoke the stove and make some coffee.

  The moonlit night passed uneventfully but for a small band of cow elk and their calves passing through the meadow. The horses didn’t pay any attention to them, and Roni was able to relax against the cabin wall. An owl passed by on silent wings, hunting for a mouse or rabbit to feed upon. A short time later she heard the squeak of a mouse and knew the bird had found its mark.

  At dawn she gave up the battle to keep her eyes open. She snuggled down into her coat and let sleep take over. Eventually, the heat of the sun woke her and she begrudgingly got up on stiff legs. With a brief glance toward the horses to make sure all was quiet, she climbed the steps and went in to make breakfast. Puller plopped down next to the fire after wolfing his kibble and watched her. Although tired and still sore, she took comfort knowing the herd was safe. After a nap, she’d bring Sparky in and tend to his wounds.

  She woke up after a four-hour snooze, feeling physically refreshed. She wasn’t quite there mentally. Thoughts of Selena weighed on her mind. It took too much work to squelch the tickle of jealousy that played in her chest. She needed to keep busy and rely on exhaustion to keep the images of Kim and Selena at bay.

  After shoving a couple of protein bars into her pocket, Roni found a jar of medicinal salve for Sparky, grabbed her Stetson, and strode out. Puller was content to remain where he was and barely raised his head as she looked back.

  The red horse appeared calm as he grazed among the others. The
y tended to stay toward the middle of the open meadow, no doubt hesitant to go near the trees. She wondered if that’s where the cat had made its move. She stood next to Chenoa and chewed on her snack, subtly sidling closer to Sparky. He lifted his head to watch her for a brief moment before settling back to eating grass. She got to within five feet of him and from there examined his wounds. Two on either side looked deep and oozed some blood and serum. The other ones were still scabbed and appeared okay. He didn’t move off when she eventually stood by his head, or when she slipped the rope halter onto him. Knowing he’d feel more at ease near the rest of the horses, she decided to doctor him there. She did however want to see how he moved and made him circle her at the end of the rope. Her experienced eyes caught a faint stiffness in his hindquarters.

  “You’re sure doing a lot better than I thought you would,” she said as she tugged slightly on the rope. He stopped, turned to face her, and then walked to her.

  She patted his neck, ran her hand over his shoulders, and moved toward his haunches. “Poor guy. He did a number on you, didn’t he?” Although Sparky turned his ears back, he didn’t move as she palpated the flesh surrounding the wounds. “It doesn’t look like you have any nasty abscesses in there.”

  After smoothing salve over each of eight wounds she took Sparky for a short walk. Keeping the muscles loose and toned would help them heal faster. He offered no resistance and kept the lead loose as he walked beside her. Twenty minutes later she released him into the herd. He stood relaxed next to her before moving off to join his companions. She was pleased. Oftentimes a horse like Sparky was less than trustful when injured. Maybe she was making some headway with him after all.