Meanwhile, back to now. We gotta leave our idyllic adventure and go save a horny teenager. Spud, Wolf and now Painter, horny seems to be a trait that runs in their family.
Morning has arrived, as it does daily.
Before sunrise, Wolf and Sir Jacob carry some hot coals from the campfire and more wood up a nearby bald hill. They spark a fire and throw on lots of small branches and a few big knots to make a good bed of coals. By the time it is going strong, the sky is lightening. The sun is about to rise. As it clears the horizon, the sky finally brightens enough for the smoke to show. They throw on a big batch of green leaves to make lotsa smoke. The they use a damp blanket to sign out a message.
When they get back down, Mose and I have the stock all saddled, packed and lined out. Mose has volunteered to take our packhorses on to his camp and care for them while we are gone.
A bit later, Sky and Michael fly in to pick us up. We figure that the authorities have all left with Spud on the S.S. Shitkicker. With them gone, we don’t have to worry about the noise of the shuttle in the Wilderness. Motors of any kind, technology in general, all illegal on the Rock. Centrists declared it so.
They claim that they want to preserve it as is, bring the planet to a stop. They all live on the city planets, never seen nature. They don’t seem to realize that nature is alive. It moves and changes all the time. Things live and die, eating each other alive in the meantime. Nature is an ongoing battle for survival of the fittest. Not just plants and animals, every little particle out there. The particles form themselves into symbiotic relationships, becoming huge systems. Some of which appear inanimate, but they still constantly grow and erode. Planets shake their mountains and overflow their rivers. Oceans rise and fall. Glaciers form and melt and do it again. Volcanos erupt. No way to preserve any of it. Hell, suns explode, whole planets are vaporized. Man ain’t got a chance in hell of controlling all that. But he is arrogant enough to try.
As I recently learned, Mose is considered to live way beyond the known edge of a not really flat planet. He resides in ‘These Landes be Occupied by Dragones’ country. Never met a dragon, only dinosaurs. Could be fun. As long as they don’t like long pig, you know, human meat. Hell, we are way out in the middle of fucking nowhere. Who could hear the shuttle anyway?
Sky and Michael walk over and greet us. Sky has on a sky blue shirt and jeans. Michael is wearing a sunshine yellow shirt and black scarf with his black jeans. Sometimes cuties come in pairs.
Sir Jacob says, “Mose, you are acquainted with Sky. This other cowboy is Michael Santa Cruz. Michael, meet my boon companion, Sir Steven Moses Hawkins.”
“A mighty fine pleasure to make y’awls acquaintance, Mr. Santa Cruz. Y’awl kin call me Mose.”
The two shake hands.
“Mucho gusto en concerle, my pleasure to meet you also. I am Michael, no need to stand on formality here.”
“El gusto es mio,” replies Mose.
This gets a big smile from Michael and I, we love folks who speak our language.
“Yo. Sky, Michael,” says Wolf. “Space pickup running now?”
“Mostly” says Sky. Then he hesitates, looks thoughtful and adds, “I believe she’ll likely make it.”
“I hear a lot of maybes in there,” I say.
Sky shrugs and says, “She has seen better days.”
“She could, however, use a gay man’s touch,” says Michael with a suggestive hip wiggle. “Nary a frill to be found on the whole ship. Yet. I plan to fix that.”
Sky says, “Yeah, Michael has been up helpin’ me out for a few days. Charley got tired of him cleaning her house over and over again, after he got his strength back from being shot by that Centrist bastard. So she had him tend bar for a night. But then one of the customers got pissed off ‘cause he thought Michael was making a pass at him.”
Michael smiles at this and wiggle his eyebrows, “Might of been.”
I laugh. I know Michael, he’s a horny sucker, like me. He probably was.
You will remember that Michael was shot by Soames and his men behind the Short Branch a while back. We left him in MadDog to recuperate at Charley's house. She owns the Short Branch Saloon, the center of low society on the Rock.
“I finally found a guitar and sang old cowboy tunes to the boys one night,” says Michael. “That calmed ‘em down.”
“Sure,” I say. “Like a cat scratchin’ on a chalk board.”
“Better’n you, pard,” says Michael in rebuttal.
I love to kid Michael. He is a singer, had an awesome country band on Terrania. But things got rough, we had to leave the planet in a hurry.
But his voice? Like a country blues singin’ god. I’m a definite groupie. If he would only accept my girly advances. I’ve seen his equipment at full attention. Oh, my. Unfortunately, he only salutes handsome men.
“As soon as you two finish your feud, we must be away. Spud’s drawing did not look good,” says Sir Jacob.
Sky is over by his ship, with the hood up, fiddling with something.
“Yowza,” says Mose. “Y’awl take care. No worryin’ now, I’ll keep dem horses safe. Move ‘em on up to my camp. Get settled. Y’awl be careful, don’t do nuthin’ thet I would.”
Michael turns to Sir Jacob and asks, “He means wouldn’t, right?”
Sir Jacob says, “No, if you knew Sir Steven, er Mose, in the old days, you would know he means would. Goodness knows we had some wild adventures. Fantastic in retrospect, but at the time it was truly a miracle we survived.”
“Yassuh, lucky to have our hair. Makes trappin’ seem downright tame,” adds Mose, shaking his head in wonderment.
I walk up to the shuttle. It is small. I turn to Sir Jacob.
“Looks like barely enough room for the five of us. Where do our mounts go?” I ask.
Sir Jacob looks at me quizzically and says, “Horses? No, they all stay here with Mose. No need of them on Proxima Pi.”
“So we walk ever’where?” I ask.
“Certainly not. It is a city, we drive.”
I wave my hands in front of my face and shake my head in denial. I say, “Oh no. No, no, no. Them things’ll kill ya.”
Sir Jacob smiles and says, “Not to worry Annie, I am an excellent driver. In order to soothe your fears, I shall encourage you to wear your seat harness.”
“Maybe a couple shots of whiskey, too, to calm my nerves.”
“We might be at risk what with the jail break-in. We will need to stay at the top of our form,” says Sir Jacob.
“That too. Whiskey steadies my aim,” I reply, straight faced.
With that nice thought in mind, I pull out my hip flask, have a snort and pass it around. We hear the slap of Sky closing the hood.
He yells, “All aboard.” Like a good train conductor.
We troop over and give hugs, abrazos, to Mose. Good man to ride the trails with, he is, and head for the shuttle.
I seem to be the only one concerned about the trip. Hell, I miss my pony already, haven’t even got into the space thingy yet. Plus, I am not allowed to bring my saddle rig. Damn it. What if I see a good horse and wanna try him out? Maybe make a trade?
Just before we board, I lie down on my stomach, give mother earth a little hug and kiss the rocks goodbye. I hear laughter in the background. Guess someone told a joke. Okay, I am being a bit theatrical, but I like the cowboy life. The space cowboy life, not so much. Space flight has made me jumpy ever since the incidents. As far as transport goes, I prefer hay burners.
We strap in to the soft shuttle seats and Sky pilots us up to the Cosmic. The shuttle mothers right up to the big ship, like a newborn calf grabbing mamas teat. We open the hatch ad head through the airlock into the big ship. The Cosmic is spacious, big cargo holds and living spaces, room to walk around.
“Hey, plenty of room for horses in here Sir Jacob,” I say, teasing.
His Lordship laughs.
Wolf and I head into the galley and whip up lunch.
“How Annie like Spirit Ques
t with Wolf so far?” asks Wolf.
I think a second or two. then nod my head slowly and say, “Truth? I never met a real honest to goodness feather and war paint Injin before you. Knew I had the blood, but all I knew beyond that was the Hollywood Cowboy and Injin stories. Thought that Injin stuff was all in the distant past. When I saw you galloping down the trail hangin’ off the side of old Bogey that day, I thought, ‘Hot damn real Injins still do exist. Fucking awesome’.
“Hey, speakin’ of Injins, where is yore bow and arrows?”
“Ha ha!” says Wolf. “Me got, maybe need them on Pi. Silent, long enough range for small space of city.”
“Too late to bring ’em now, we’re headed off,” I say.
“Un-uh. Wolf ready, got ’em in war bag.”
He points at a black bag in the corner.
“Injin always ready.”
7 A Piece of Pi
Cowgirl Thrillers Page 58