Cowgirl Thrillers

by Barbara Neville

  ***

  At this point up pops a wild Injin, feathers, war paint and all. Damn, but it does explain the howling.

  And the wolf, with a capitol W, enters the picture.

  “Lone Wolf’s the name, Paleface.” He hands me my revolver. “I used up all your bullets. You might want to reload, but them three hombres ain’t around no more.”

  The wild man returns my.45, which I awkwardly try and finally manage to holster behind and kind of under my right hip. Uncomfortable, too.

  “Now, you are my lovely lady prisoner.”

  I shit another brick, but nothing to lose, I brazen it out.

  “I think you might need to help me shift this horse, if you plan to haul me away to your teepee.” How can I remain a smart ass when I are about to be kidnapped? Am I really this stupid?

  “Sure, let’s get this horse up.”

  “Up? How strong are you, that you can move a comatose horse?”

  “If you weren’t in shock you would have noticed he is still breathing and that eyeball is open. While you were passed out I taught him to play dead.”

  “You’re shittin’ me. No one can pull that off that quick. And I know damn well he is still breathin’!”

  “Haw haw, I have the Injin touch.”

  “If you can raise the dead, red man, now would be the time to show me.”

  “A pinned down white person hadn’t oughta be callin’ me a red man.”

  “So kill me already, I was just follerin’ your ‘Paleface’ lead.”

  “Okay, smart ass, I’ll take the horse and leave your sorry white ass here.”

  “What is this, the land of racial insult?” But at least with Bogey off me I would be freed up. I am not sure I want to be a prisoner. But a handsomer kidnapper I cannot imagine. Oh, lordy.

  “Okay lady, let’s start over. I am Lone Wolf, pleased to meet you.”

  “Roxanne is my name, pleasure. Maybe we could get to work on getting this half ton of wolf bait off my leg.”

  “I’m not in any rush. It is entertaining to see the master race in a tough position. Mighty fine redskin revenge.

  “And you are mighty cute like that, I need a photo.”

  “Cripes.” Oh lord, what have I done to imagine up such a smartass?

  Then Lone Wolf jumps up onto Jake and lopes away. What the hell?

  “Shit!”

  After Lone Wolf gets out of sight I hear a piercing ‘wolf’ whistle and damned if Bogey doesn’t shake his head and stand right up!

  That dang Injin has pulled off his magic, just exactly as promised.

  A few minutes later horsejacker and Jake return leading a fabulously decorated paint horse who is lame on the off fore. The mural on this horse puts my art work in the primitive category. The paint has hand prints, hoof prints, all seeing-eye circles, buffalo heads, deer, antelope, what must be Spirit symbols and more.

  He must see me staring at the horse and asks, “Pretty horse, uh?”

  “Mighty fine work,” I say.

  Then I swallow, having trouble concentrating on the horse art as I remember who the prisoner is here.

  If he only knew how little I am worth for ransom, he wouldn’t have bothered saving me. Most folks seem to consider a girl cowhand to be a royal pain in the ass. Actually, I am not sure I know anyone who wouldn’t be relieved to let Wolf have me, let alone be willing to actually pay money to get me back. Probably line up for a chance to pay him to take me.

  I will end up a’ Injin slave. I am too damn ornery for any brave to want to marry me, which is the only way I know of to escape Injin slavery.

  “How did you do that, Injin?”

  “You might wanna call me Wolf, Paleface.”

  “Okay Wolf, how did you do it?”

  “Injin magic, White Eyes.”

  “Have you memorized every western story ever told?”

  “Pretty much, Kemo Sabe.”

  “Ha, Lone Stranger too, Injin.”

  “Honest Injin to you, White Eyes.”

  “Seriously, man, how did you teach him the dead horse trick so quick?”

  Wolf says, “Bogey used to be my horse before the white man stole him. He knows all kinds of smart Injin pony tricks.”

  “If you are such a hot shot redskin, how could they have stole him?”

  “I loaned him to a white man. White men not being as smart and savvy as us Injins, Bogey was swiped from him.”

  I am still down and hurtin’ but not inclined to let my new acquaintance know. So I suck in a bale of air and get up. Hop a few steps trying to find balance on my one working leg. I really start to lose my balance, swinging my arms and hopping like crazy to stay up and then fall back down.

  “SonofaBitch!”

  Wolf does a quiet Injin laugh, “Hah.”

  “Comical?”

  “Dignity gone before fall,” says Wolf. Then he sobers. “Hurt much? Here, lay still, Wolf fix.”

  After quite a few minutes of first class Injin massage, Wolf gets the circulation going in my leg and hip and I am a sore ass version of almost as good as new.

  I can finally stand up only to discover that Lone is a big tall Injin, taller even than me. Not a common thing for anyone to be taller than me.

  “How come you so big and tall no how, Lady?” asks Wolf.

  “Someday I may need to kick your ass, so I gotta be big enough to do it. Call me Annie.”

  “Okay. Annie. But no chance of you whuppin’ me, Injin kick your ass hogtied.”

  “We’ll see on that ‘un.” Who am I kidding, his muscles have muscles. Wolf outweighs me an easy 50 pounds of purely beautiful muscle.

  “Thanks for the loan of the horse, mine pulled up lame,” says Wolf.

  “So I see. Rock bruise maybe?”

  “I’m thinkin’.”

  “I figured you was just a redskin horse and pistol thief.” I didn’t mention that I hadn’t realized he was an actual Injin ‘til he told me.

  “Pretty well describes me. If I was a’ Honest Injin, I’d be pandering to the White Eyes.”

  Wolf whistles in his mount. Bogey obviously remembers the sound. He walks the six steps over to Wolf for a hug. Wolf’s painted mount limps over and we are set to go. Good looking brown and white Paint horse, talk about stereotyped.

  “Is his name Scout?”

  “Haw haw, this Injin should have thought of that when I named him. Be confusing though, my other paint horse is Scout.”

  I reset Jake’s pack saddle and panniers, throw a diamond hitch. We mount up and off we set. Wolf walks beside me leading his lame paint.

  “So you’re taking me prisoner? For ransom or slavery?”

  “Sheeit girl, I don’t want you anymore. Come to think, yore like to be mean as a snake, and who the hell would pay money to ransom a’ ugly girl like you anyway?”

  Dang, he saw the uglies too. “Hey, Wolf, thanks for the left handed compliment, and also for the save. You definitely saved my bacon.”

  “The horse would have got himself up eventually, he don’t play dead forever. He would get hungry or thirsty and bail. Though it would be somethin’ if he played dead until he died. Hmm.

  “Waste of a damn good horse though.”

  “Yeah, but I would have started making a ruckus sooner if you hadn’t warned me they were still around. I have no idea how long I was passed out. And they weren’t making a whisper of noise. I had just about figured they had left. So, thank you.”

  “Not a problem, white girl.”

  “I suppose you’ll want Bogey back. But will you loan him to me to ride home? Else it’s a long walk afoot for me leading Jake. I need to get these victuals to camp. Where do you live? I can bring him over tomorrow.”

  “My camp hard to find, white man never see it. I come get Bogey when I need him.”

  “Maybe white woman can find what white man never see, you think?”

  “Hmph. How have you ever lived this long with that mouth, woman?”

  “Good looks, darlin’. M
y camp is over towards...”

  Wolf lifts the sore hoof, pries out a rock and jumps up on Scout’s bare back. Scout takes a few tentative steps, limp cured.

  Wolf says, “Uh huh. Good. Long walk to teepee.”

  He turns to me and says, “Injin been watching you all month, me know.”

  “Shit.”

  “Hey, saved your ass,” says Wolf.

  “I reckon. Who were those guys?”

  “Trouble. And they got friends too, Kemo Sabe. Take care.”

  And off Wolf rode, you guessed it, into the sunset.

  3 Backtrackin’