Cowgirl Thrillers

by Barbara Neville

Next day, after a pause for the sexual cause, Spud and I get up in the dark. Being autumn, the sun rises later every day.

  “We can ask Shaz ‘bout what happened,” I say.

  “Yep, we can ask,” says Spud and looks at me blandly.

  “Oh, shit. She don’t speak English.”

  “So I hear.”

  “Bear, maybe?”

  “No matter, we don’t.”

  “Maybe Mose can,” I say dispiritedly.

  We grab coffee and go out to check the weather.

  “Leaves all gone now, clouds marchin’ in,” says Spud.

  “Yep,” I agree.

  We head in to check on things.

  Mose has the fire going in his cave. Shaz is awake, sitting up and looking better. When she looks up at Spud and me, her eyes widen.

  “S’okay Shaz, dis heah gal done save yore life,” says Mose. “That other’n is Spud, brother to Wolf.”

  We smile and say hi. Shaz’ eyes look big and scared. She looks at us for about half a second before aiming her eyeballs back at the mesmerizing flames.

  “How long she been with you, Mose?” asks Spud.

  “She first show up early spring. Same time them bears come out of hibernation. Why I think she maybe know bears. She shore know theah ways.”

  “She climbs trees with ‘em,” I say.

  Mose nods.

  “Five months or so then? You two talk?” asks Spud.

  “Awl the time.”

  “Oh, she does talk?” I ask.

  “Naw,” says Mose with a smile. “I talks, she listens.”

  “Mose love to talk.”

  I jump, startled at the voice. When I turn around, I see that Wolf has snuck in behind me.

  “Quit sneakin’ up on a girl,” I say.

  “Wolf just walk in, not sneak,” he says and shrugs.

  Wolf goes over to Shaz. He reaches out a hand and she takes it and squeezes. He then hands her a stick. He has a stick, too. He pulls back the edge of the bearskin rug and draws in the dirt.

  She adds to his drawing with her stick.

  “Yeesh,” I say. “We would thought of that eventually.”

  Wolf chuckles.

  “She smart,” says Mose proudly. “I been learnin’ her fer months.”

  After a lot of drawing, erasing, pointing and Injin pantomime, Wolf says, “Okay.”

  Shaz stands up.

  Wolf looks at Mose, “She ride?”

  “Yowza, like a bear ‘bout to clamp down on they neck to make the kill.”

  “Oh,” I say.

  “Naw, she still learnin’,” says Mose lightheartedly. “”Tis okay, I’se got a bombproof horse. She ride him jes’ fine.”

  “Mose gotta go along, tho. Shaz doan’ unnerstand yo askcents.”

  “Our accents?” I ask.

  “Yeah, y’awls has terrible English pronouncin’ ways,” Mose says, then smiles and coughs, choking a bit. “Naw, she jes’ used to my drawl.”

  “Where you from, Mose?” asks Spud.

  “Planet o’ Brotherly Love. We speak crystal cleah English deah,” he drawls and then smiles.

  Spud and I exchange a glance and a mutual eye roll. Mose finds that hilarious. Then, we go out to catch and saddle our broncs.

  Soon we are all aboard, most of us sitting in saddles. Wolf and Shaz are bareback.

  As we head out on the trail, I look over at Spud and ask, “Were you scared and worried when they arrested you on Pi?”

  “Oh hell, shit happens,” he says. “I've had tough times. But, I’m free now. The past is history, ancient history. I move ahead, I have new family,” says Spud. He touches my leg fondly and waves an arm around at us all in general. “Best family in the freakin’ cosmos. Life ain’t nuthin’ but good.

  “Besides, gettin’ broody is fer amateurs. Smart people bury the bad times and celebrate the great, awesome and fantastic times. Life is too short to waste on regrets. Now. Right now. This very moment, is not too soon to make life better. Let’s do it!"

  Spud whoops, spurs up his horse, and races off into the sunrise.

  “Oh, okay,” I say to his retreating form.

  Wolf has been listening. He says, “See? Zen. Brother learn.”

  “Guess he’s a little bit pleased about bein’ free and back on the Rock,” I say.

  “Yas’suh, he is. But he goin’ da wrong way,” says Mose. “Shaz goin’ dat way.”

  “Him go look for Buzz. We go back to cave. She turnin’,” says Wolf, as he points his chin at Shaz.

  Mose looks back. “Sho’ nuff, she is.” He turns his horse between two tall cottonwoods to follow her.

  “But the cave entrance is up on the other side of the hill,” I say as our horses crunch through the fallen leaves.

  “Other entrance where she go in,” says Wolf.

  “You get that all from drawin’s?”

  “Mm-hm, plus sign language, old Injin gesture talk, so strangers from different tribes can speak,” Wolf informs us. “She learn quick.”

  “You are Injin, what is her tribe?”

  “Bear.”

  “Of course.”

  We ride down a faint game trail. Shaz pulls over. Doubtless Mose has taught her that he needs to be in the lead to read sign.

  “Yawp,” he says after dismounting to examine the ground more closely. “He brush out the tracks up to heah. That, plus the new fallen leaves from that wind storm hide theah sign pretty good.”

  The trail takes us up around the other side of the hill, which is less steep then the side I climbed yesterday. There are a couple of crude switchbacks and finally Shaz pulls up and dismounts. She holds up a hand and then heads off into some thick brush. After a few steps, she starts throwing loose branches into the air. We join in and help her move a few good size rocks. Small boulders really.

  The result is a much more accessible cave entrance. It is big enough to ride our horses into, in fact, so we do. We dismount and walk around the room, fascinated. Not in a hurry. We need to do it right.

  Besides, one thing I have learned here. Rock folk, like the people of Hawaiia, have a pliable relationship with time. Mañany is soon enough fer us.

  27 Spelunkers