by Becky Norman
“Wow,” Lori breathed as the hairs stood up on the back of her neck. All of the horse-owners were silent for a moment, feeling all too clearly the horror the animal must have been going through to run headlong into a building.
Shannon tossed Lori a look of concern and scepticism combined. “Why do you think it’s by your place now?” she challenged Kate.
The rider shifted in her saddle then rested a confident hand on her thigh. “Our dogs were barking like mad about 2:00 in the morning yesterday – we went out with a light and checked everything over but couldn’t see anything. When daylight came, we did a thorough search and found some huge tracks at the far end of one of our pastures. The horses were really spooked that morning, too. Something was out there, for sure.”
Shannon nodded speculatively. “What did the tracks look like? Could you see claw marks or just the pads of the foot?”
“Just the pads – it was definitely a cat of some type, since they retract their claws when walking.”
Shannon bit her lip. “Yeah, it doesn’t sound like a coyote – or even a wolf.”
Kate shook her head. “No, I don’t think it was either of those. These tracks were huge and they were made by one animal. It’s travelling alone.”
Lori was staring off into the distance, trying to quell the primal fear that was slithering up her spine, and didn’t realize Kate was looking for a response.
“Anyway,” Kate resumed, “we probably wouldn’t be allowed to shoot the thing – my husband’s checking into that – but you’ll want to tell your husband to keep his gun nearby, in case you have to shoot into the air to frighten it off,” Kate cautioned.
Lori gave Shannon a pained look at the mention of a husband’s protection, but cleared her throat and nodded. “I’ll figure out something,” she vowed. “Thanks for coming by and letting me know.”
Kate nodded and turned her horse around. “It was nice to meet you, Lori. Take care of yourself and let me know if you see anything, ok?”
Lori jerked her head in an affirmative response and sent them off with a wave and a “be safe.”
After they left, Shannon wrapped an arm around Lori’s waist and squeezed. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it,” she reassured her friend. “Chances are no cat is going to get this close to people. Just make sure the horses are put in the barn at night and you’ll be okay.”
Lori gave the older woman a haunted look and swallowed thickly.
**********
After that visit, Lori began sleeping restlessly. Even though it was September, she kept the windows open every night, whether it was warm or not and listened intently to every sound outside. One night, she was awakened by the stench of a skunk; it smelled as though it were right under her bedroom window and she came awake with heart pounding, certain a cougar had startled one into spraying. She grabbed the spotlight she had bought the day before and shined it around the yard, but saw nothing but the ambling black-and-white backside of the skunk as it waddled away.
Her horses seemed fine – they weren’t uneasy at any point during the course of the day or night – and the new barn cat Lori had started calling Bear still maintained a constant vigil which Lori took as good signs. Surely if a mountain lion were prowling around, they would let her know.
When she told her father about it during their weekly phone call, however, he enflamed all her fears.
“Lori, when are you going to come to your senses and sell that place?” he demanded with a mixture of concern and frustration in his voice. “I still say that place is too much for you and this is just plain dangerous now, if there are cats hanging around the house.”
Lori bit her lip and counted to five. “Dad, there aren’t any cats ‘hanging around the house’ except for two kittens and a big tabby out by the barn. I’m fine. Really.”
She could almost hear him shaking his head. “You say that now, but one of these days I’m going to get a different kind of phone call – one where something’s happened and then it’ll be too late. I’m worried about you – I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“I know, Dad. I do know. And I appreciate you caring so much about me and worrying for me, but I’ve got a lot of clients right now and things are going well.” She paused and her tone softened. “I think I might be able to do this, Daddy. Please let me try.”
There was a pause at the other end of the line then her father’s voice came as softly as her own and thick with emotion. “I love you, honey.” He cleared his throat then said with a false sense of cheerfulness, “Why don’t you talk to your mother for a bit?”
Her mother, as always, was that mix of practicality and support that Lori relied upon and she relaxed a little bit as she talked. With her mom, the conversation turned to the details of the farm, how she was running the books, where she was advertising her services and if she was going to pick up any project horses for the winter.
“Remember, sweetheart, that October sale at Carson’s is going to be a good one,” she put in. “People want to unload all their ‘trouble’ horses before they have to feed them over the winter. You should be able to pick up a couple of good ones and then you’ll have a solid five months to get them trained properly in your indoor arena. Come April, you’ll be able to sell them as prepared show horses for double or triple what you paid for them.”
Lori’s eyes brightened at the idea. “Do you think I should invest in more now, though?”
“I do. You’re set for hay, aren’t you? I thought you and Cody had purchased enough for a barn full of horses.”
Lori firmed her jaw – almost unconsciously now – at the thought of Cody and answered evenly. “We had, yeah. It’s not so much the feeding I’m worried about as actually paying for the horses, though.”
“Well, let’s think practically about this. In this economy and with so many horses available, you can probably pick up a couple of good riding horses there for under $2000. And I know between you and Shannon you can find buyers that will pay $5000 willingly for a well-trained horse, right?”
“Yes...” Lori hesitated, doing a quick calculation of her current cash flow.
“Listen, if you need us to, your dad and I will chip in the money for the horses and you can pay us back the difference at 1% interest when you sell them.”
Lori smiled despite herself. That was ever her mother – loaning her daughter money at a low rate of interest instead of handing it to her outright. You’ll never make it in the world, sweetheart, unless you learn the ways of business. How often had she heard those words when her mother offered a proposition of this nature? She extended a generous interest rate, to be sure, but it was always a loan – never a gift. Even her Outback had been purchased in this way when she first got out of school.
“Let me see what I’ve got around here first, Mom. I might have enough – I just have to buy some firewood this month for the winter, and I’m not sure how much that will be yet. But thanks for the offer.”
“Have you got a supplier lined up for that?”
“Yeah, I think so. My hay guy has a friend who sells wood – it’s a little more, but he’ll deliver it free of charge and I’ll definitely appreciate the convenience of having it dumped right by the basement window I’ll be tossing it through!”
“Who’s helping you do that? You’ll have to get that in soon if it’s going to dry out enough for you to use by December.”
“Looks like it’s just going to be me. I can’t call Jesse now that Anne is freaking out and Shannon said she’s at horse shows every weekend and trying to winterize her barn in between. I don’t want to bother her. But I should be okay – I’ve rigged up a system where I’ll slide the wood down a chute I made, into the basement, then when it’s piled up good and high, I’ll head inside and stack it properly. Then, I guess I’ll just repeat as necessary until all 10 cords are tucked away. It shouldn’t be too hard.”
“You sure?”
Lori laughe
d. “Well, I’ll let you know after the first load arrives!”
Lori’s mother was silent for a moment then said in a serious tone of voice, “Lori, I know your dad is always pushing you to sell and come back home. I want you to know you’ll always have a place here. But I want you to know, too, that I think you’re doing great. I’m very proud of you. And I want you to stick this out as long as you can. The more you can prove to yourself, and the more independent you can be, the better. Don’t be in a hurry to throw in the towel and come rushing back here. That’s your home now.”
“Yeah,” Lori answered with a glimmer of hope lighting her eyes, “It is.”
Chapter 8
Noel Tecumseh stepped out of his rusted, ancient pick-up truck with a push pin gripped between his teeth and adjusted the beat-up felt hat on his brow. Leaning back in to the vehicle, he reached over the driver’s seat and grabbed another sheet of paper with a dramatic charcoal sketch of a cougar on the top and his name and phone number written beneath. Everything about Noel was comfortable – from his dusty cowboy boots to his faded blue jeans to the deerskin coat with fringe under the arms. He looked at the advertisement for a moment, ensuring the information was correct and the tear-off strips of paper at the bottom were cut so that people could remove his name and number without taking down the entire piece of paper.
After glancing in both directions, he crossed the street and walked up to the Delhi community bulletin board located out front of one of the convenience stores. Finding a suitable place, he stabbed his sheet of paper with the push pin and stood back admiring his work. He was conscious of the two older men watching him from the bench a few yards away. He smiled slightly and ran a thumb and forefinger down and around his mouth, echoing the thin beard he sported there. No doubt his appearance was rattling them. Gypsy? Mexican? Indian? The speculation was probably running rampant – albeit in whispers – and providing more excitement for the old codgers than they’d had all year. Well, anything he could do to keep them entertained, he was more than happy to provide. As long as they didn’t take down his ad.
He turned and made his way back to the pick-up, stepping up into his sanctuary, his home, and sat for a moment, not turning on the ignition. Something was telling him to wait. He didn’t know for what and had no expectations, but experience had taught him when that Something talked, he’d best listen. So he sat and observed and it wasn’t too much later that they came into view: two women, about ten years apart in age, one petite with hair the colour of a hickory nut’s shell; the other taller – closer to his own height of 5’11” – and stunningly beautiful to his heart. He felt her speaking to his soul as no other person had ever spoken to him and he clenched the steering wheel unconsciously. The woman from his dream, come to life.
He watched them walking towards him down the sidewalk, talking to each other as they went. She had hair almost as black as his own, but there was a tell-tale glimmer of grey by her temple. Noel’s black-brown eyes narrowed when he saw it.
“Mmm,” he uttered, almost in reflex.
She moved with a paradoxical self-conscious grace, almost as though she were embarrassed by the very things that drew people to her and a slow smile grew on his face. Yes, his heart said. Yes. I know that, too.
They stopped abruptly on the walk and looked over to the men sitting on the bench by the bulletin board. Apparently one of the men had called them, because the petite woman waved and gestured to her friend that they should cross. They detoured only a few yards in front of his truck. For one fleeting instant, the raven-haired beauty looked right at him, her eyes a brilliant grey-green slant, and he took a sharp intake of breath. But then she was looking the other way, ensuring there were no cars coming as they crossed and stopped to talk to the men.
He watched her nod shyly as her friend introduced her to the old codgers, his heart pounding at the thought of her getting away. There was a sadness around her. Something had happened. And recently. If he went up to her – ran up to her, like he wanted to do – would she be alarmed? He could hardly accost the poor woman on the street. How could he introduce himself in a way that wouldn’t frighten her off? More importantly, how could he let her go?
As Noel sat in indecision, he saw one of the old men nod towards his truck then point to the bulletin board with a cane. He stilled himself and slowed his heart. Just watch. Just wait. Trust in the process.
The raven-haired walked to the board, scanned the multitude of papers, stopped on his. She looked over her shoulder for a moment, checking out his truck from the corner of her eye, then reached up with a pale, graceful hand and tore off his name and number.
He exhaled slowly, the tension melting away from his clenched fingers, and turned on the ignition. Not yet. When the time was right.
Noel Tecumseh put the truck in gear and drove away.
**********
“Lori, why on earth did you take that scrap of paper?” Shannon asked in exasperation as she shrugged out of her blazer and settled into the booth of the coffee shop they had stopped at for lunch. “Did you see what that guy was driving? Even if there was a cougar on my property, I sure wouldn’t be calling that guy to come and get it for me.”
Lori stuck her tongue out at her friend and slipped her own wool pea coat off. It was a crisp September day, but the restaurant, quaintly called “Just Like Grandma’s,” was warm where they sat in the sun streaming in from a huge bay window. She brought out the piece of paper she’d torn from the ad and looked at his name. Noel Tecumseh.
Truth be told, she didn’t know why she’d taken the paper – and she hadn’t been able to see any more of the man than a silhouette as he sat in his truck – but something had compelled her to take it.
“I don’t know,” she said with a shrug, “it couldn’t hurt, right? I hope to God I never have to call him, but better safe than sorry. I mean, what are the odds of a guy showing up in town, advertising that he specializes in big cats, when there’s been a cougar scare? I just look at this like insurance,” she said, waving the paper lightly before she tucked it into her wallet.
Shannon snorted derisively. “Yeah, what are the odds? He probably lets his pet mountain lion loose all the time, then goes and picks it up and charges the terrified farmer a fortune to do it.”
Lori looked at her friend, a smile of disbelief spreading across her face as she shook her head. “God, you’re cynical,” she laughed.
Shannon winked at her. “Trust no one.”
**********
It was with a mixture of relief and trepidation that Lori watched the first load of firewood being dumped on her property. The men delivering it would have to come back four more times to complete the transaction and Lori felt daunted by the pile already before her. Throwing all of that down into the basement and stacking it properly was going to be a huge job. Still, once it was in, she was truly ready for the winter.
Lori remembered reading in school about “man’s basic needs being met” first and foremost. It was only after you were warm –through shelter, fuel and food – that you could concentrate on the finer things in life. She could wholeheartedly agree. Nothing seemed to give her more pleasure these days than to see a barn full of hay, a pantry full of food, and a basement full of wood.
She kicked one of the pieces at her feet and squared her shoulders. “Best get crackin’, Pate,” she said to herself. “That basement’s not going to get full on its own.”
She worked steadily through the morning, moving from the pile of dumped wood to the window with armfuls of split logs, arranging them around it so that when enough had been accumulated she could easily kneel by the open window and grab piece after piece and fire it down the chute she’d made with 2x4s. Soon she had a large pile haphazardly strewn about on the basement floor and a lesser one in the yard. At that time, Lori stopped to take a break, grabbed a drink, and headed inside to stack it properly in the basement. The kittens had been
locked out of the basement while she worked so that they wouldn’t get hit by the flying pieces of wood, but now she let them accompany her downstairs and sniff through the treasure trove of woodland scents brought in by the logs.
Similar to the hay, stacking wood required its own unique logistics. Lori stacked the chunks of maple, oak and ash from wall to wall and as high as the ceiling in a strategic way so that the row wouldn’t tumble forward. Smaller pieces were used as a wedge between the larger logs; Lori analyzed each piece as she picked it up and found the perfect niche for it amongst the ones already in place. The work was surprisingly easy and Lori found within a couple of hours she had cleared the first two cords away while the kittens chased spiders around the strips of bark still scattered on the floor. There was one more cord to be thrown in from outside yet; by the time she was finished with it, the deliverymen should be back with another three cords. They had agreed to bring six today and six the following weekend, making it four trips in total since the trailer could only hold three at a time. Lori would need some time in between, anyway, to throw it and stack it but she felt confident she could handle it on her own.
She had a quick cheese sandwich with some potato chips for lunch then headed back outside to throw in the last cord on the lawn. As she walked out the back door, she looked over to the pasture and did a quick visual on her horses. Piper and Ebony were at the far end of the acreage, contentedly grazing on the end-of-summer grass in their field. It was an idyllic scene and Lori paused for a moment, just to enjoy the sight of her animals on her property.
The silence was starting to get to her today for some reason, though, so she went to the garage and grabbed the portable radio Cody had put there for use while he was working on the truck. She flipped it on and jumped when his heavy rock music began blaring out of the speakers. Instinctually, she moved to switch it to another station, but then hesitated. Every time she did something like this – changed a radio station, moved a lamp on his side of the bed, switched to a different type of laundry detergent – she felt she was severing another tie with him. She didn’t want to forget him, didn’t want to move on without him...and yet, it seemed silly to keep it on a music she didn’t like just to remember him.