Naked in the Winter Wind

by Dani Haviland

  Evening came and Ian was still gone. Oh well, I didn’t feel like anything was wrong. He was in good physical health now and had been taking care of himself for years. Worry wouldn’t help, anyway. “Lord, please keep him safe. In Jesus’s name, Amen.” Now, all was good.

  I checked in on my feline patient. She had been gnawing on the shinbone and was now licking her paws. “Hey there, Lady, are you doing better now?”

  She looked up from her cleaning, purred, and then gave me a quick, “Rawol.”

  “That’s good. I think it’s just you and me tonight, Lady. I’ll try not to snore too loudly. Care for a bedtime story?”

  Just as the words left my lips, I realized I didn’t know any bedtime stories. “Okay, then I’ll just sing and hum. Pussy cat, pussy cat, I love you, yes, I do….”

  I didn’t know if she liked my singing or not, but she did get closer to me. It was dark and getting colder. I was on the chilly side of the cave. I always slept on top of the elk robe to keep as much of the ground chill away as I could. I was depending on the fire to stay warm tonight, especially since I didn’t have Ian’s warmth, but I had let the fire die down to just a few hardwood embers because cats didn’t like fire, or so I thought.

  I covered all my exposed areas as best I could with the little solar blanket and curled into the fetal position. It didn’t help. I was shivering uncontrollably. Lady saw my situation, raised up, and pussyfooted over to me, stepping gingerly on her still tender feet. She lay down behind me and placed one big paw on top of my head.

  “Oh, Lord, help me now,” I prayed quickly. Lady started licking the back of my head. My long hair immediately got tangled in her mouth. “Just a minute,” I said, and turned over. “Maybe bangs would be easier for you to clean.”

  Lick, lick; it was just fine by her. For me it was a bit rough though, literally. Her tongue was coarse, stinky, and very muscular. “Thanks, that’s enough for tonight,” I said and scooted away a couple of inches, close enough for warmth, but not touching her.

  She took the hint and paid attention to her own grooming instead, licking her paw, swiping it across her face, cleaning off leftover dinner. I turned over and slept warm and comfortably that night, totally at peace with God, my surroundings, and myself.

  *19 Kidnapped

  The next morning, I visited my little beachfront property to fetch water. Ian still hadn’t returned from his trip to search for intruders. Before he left, he said he hadn’t heard or seen anyone, but that his ‘wame was in a knot,’ and he wouldn’t be able to eat or sleep until he made sure the two of us were safe. He needed to confirm or dismiss his suspicions, and I could understand that. It was better for him to be out securing our domain than to stay back here with me, worrying, and imagining the worst.

  I had left Lady in the cave, contentedly cleaning her fur. I figured she’d leave when her feet were healed or she felt like it. I knew she was a wildcat and unpredictable. I also knew I couldn’t just kick her out! I mean, I was only one woman, and she was twice my size, and one notch above me on the food chain.

  I didn’t mind sharing the cave space with her; I actually enjoyed her company. I did make sure she knew my voice, though. I sang when I left, and I’d sing when I came back. It was an easy way to announce my departures and arrivals...and I certainly didn’t want to spook an injured mountain lion.

  I was quick about getting the water. Ian had the jacket, and it was too cold for me to be outside for very long with just two shirts for warmth. The winter weather wasn’t too intense, but it wasn’t cozy either.

  He came out of nowhere. I didn’t even have a chance to get half a scream out when his grimy hand clamped over my mouth and nose, nearly smothering me. I wanted to bite him, but the force of his hand pushing my face back towards my ears made it impossible to open my mouth. I couldn’t see who it was, but he couldn’t be much taller than I was by the way he was holding me against his cheek. I could smell him—although I wished I couldn’t. Foul wouldn’t even begin to describe his odor.

  His stink was the last thing I remembered.

  I woke up with a start, shuddering with cold. I was propped up against a broad, rough tree trunk, my hands and feet securely bound with torn rags, my fingers icy cold from the loss of circulation. Indistinct voices were in the area, but no one was close to me. I was foggy-headed, disoriented, and trying to figure out where I was, when the miasma hit me. The stench made me want to throw up immediately.

  And then I remembered: abducted.

  I didn’t know stink could have layers. Without even trying, I could smell everything from bacon to feces, horse sweat to straw, with the lingering aroma of alcohol and body odor topping the others. I managed to tuck my chin to my chest and breathed my own body odor, the familiar musty scent calming my queasy stomach.

  I couldn’t see, not because it was night, but because I was blindfolded. The greasy rag obscured most, but not all, of my vision. My captors were sloppy in addition to being stinky. They had left a gap in my masking, and I could see the ground. If I tipped my head back, I could probably see my assailant. Or at least I was pretty sure I would be able to.

  Footfalls stopped in front of me. “Chee lookth good enough to et, dun’t chee, Abe,” uttered one hick. The man sounded as if he were missing quite a few teeth. He smacked his lips, and then slurped back the slobbery saliva into his mouth. I felt his breath close to me and then—Gross!—he licked my face! “Tasteth good, too. Now why’d ye have to wear a man’s thirt; those bubbies are too purdy to hide away.”

  I felt his hands pawing at my breasts, trying to get through the flannel shirt to my crawling, goose-pimply skin beneath. I froze. Pop, pop, pop. He ripped my shirt open and started grabbing at the t-shirt underneath. I didn’t want to give him the pleasure—perverted or otherwise—of watching me squirm. I grimaced, sniffed repeatedly, and squeezed my eyes tight under the blindfold, blinking back my tears of fear and frustration.

  Then I heard them: out of sync footsteps marching towards us. One determined person had a lame foot or leg—I could hear it dragging. “Watch out fer her and dinna git too close,” a voice boomed, apparently from Gimpy. “Dinna ever trust a bitch.” He snorted in a wad of mucous then spat, hurling a loogie very close to my left side.

  I couldn’t help but flinch, and that gave them all a big laugh.

  “Oooh, thirsty are ye? I got more where that come from,” cooed Gimpy. The spittle spewer followed through with another big snort, stopping for dramatic effect before he lobbed another spit bomb, almost on top of the other one. His cohorts laughed again, hooting and cheering their hideous hero.

  I didn’t move, barely breathed, and did my best to keep a stoic face. I didn’t want them to get more wound up. Hopefully, they would get bored with my lack of reaction to their taunts and would let me go. Yeah, right, like that would ever happen. Well, I could hope.

  Hope. That’s what I needed! I needed to pray, pray right now. And I needed to do it loudly and with self-assurance.

  “Dear Lord,” I called out, the initial squeak becoming a forceful and commanding voice, “Thank You for this beautiful day. Thank You, too, for my good health. I ask You now for Your help in this hour of need. My host today seems to have a cold and needs his lungs healed. These kind gentlemen also need help finding their home because they’re apparently lost. They need help, too, with their eyesight because I believe they think they’ve found and trussed up a deer. Please guide them home and provide them with good vision and a stocked larder. In Jesus’s name, Amen.”

  “Ha, ha, ha, ha. Ye think that God is gonna help ye? Think agin, ye slut. Why I…”

  Whack! A loud bang exploded right next to me. It sounded as if someone got hit upside the head with a two by four. I ventured a peak through the blindfold and found out I was close to being right. A very short but wide, tough-looking old woman wearing an oversized coat was holding a hefty chunk of firewood in her hand, and it looked like she was getting ready to swing it again.

  “Di
nna I tell ye to get a whore! This is a good, God-fearin’ girl. And lookie here,” she prodded my belly with the piece of wood, “she’s with child. Ye dinna wanna chance hurtin’ an unborn bairn, do ye? Let ‘er go and tell ‘er yer sorry. Go aheid, do it—now!” barked the old woman.

  No one moved. “But, Ma,” groaned the man called Abe as he shuffled toward her.

  “Now, I said! Do ye need another thump upside the heid?”

  I felt hands fumbling with the ropes. Abe was obeying Ma. The nauseating stink was back, but I felt like my prayer was being answered. I was almost free.

  The woman referred to as Ma made shooing noises to the person removing my bindings. She gently pushed aside my hair and untied the blindfold. “Sorry ‘bout that, darlin’. Those boys get a little wound up sometimes, and, weel, a good woman wouldna have anythin’ to do wi’ ‘em. There’s some whores down the way that will take their minds off their…er…weel, I think ye ken what I mean. I told ‘em ye were with child to scare ‘em off. Now, let’s clean ye up a bit, and then we’ll get ye back to yer home.”

  I rolled over onto my knees, lifted my head, said, “Thank You, Lord,” and then looked over to Ma and said, “Thank you, ma’am.”

  The oddly attired woman with the big heart offered me her hand and helped me to my feet. “Men,” she said with disdain as she dusted off her skirts, “the little head rules the big ‘un, evra time!”

  I looked at her gapped-tooth smile and grinned back at her. I didn’t want to get too chummy with her, but she did have a good sense of humor. “I don’t know where I am, ma’am. If you could show me the way back to where the men, um, found me, I’d appreciate it.”

  Ma turned away from me and called out in a booming voice, “Abe, git yer sorry butt over here, and bring Glory.” She turned back to me and explained, “Glory’s the mule. Yer light enou’ that she’ll let ye ride ‘er. Ye couldna been too far away from here. The boys was only gone but half a day er so.”

  Abe walked up to us, leading Glory by her reins of knotted and twisted fabric scraps. Her tattered and ancient saddle had been patched with various colors and grades of both tanned leather and rawhide. It had been mended many times, but looked safe enough to carry me.

  “Sorry ‘bout the cunfusion, ma’am. Can I hep ye up inta the saddle?”

  Abe looked a little too eager to boost me onto the mule. He had been deprived of his jollies and probably wanted very much to have his hands on my backside.

  “No thanks, I can manage,” I replied courteously. I grabbed the front of the saddle where the horn should have been, and put my foot into the stirrup, glad that I was wearing pants. “I’m ready to go if you’ll just lead the way, please.”

  I wore a faint, polite smile on my face, but my insides were like a convenience store slushy drink—cold and unstable. The physical side of me was desperately holding back vomit. I took quick, frantic gulps of air to try and keep my stomach calm. I glanced at the pathetic male next to me. Part of me wanted to grab the reins and bolt away from him without regard to whose mule I was riding. Another part wanted to find a safe spot to sit down and weep until the tears ran dry. I didn’t want him near me, but knew I needed Abe to guide me back to where he had found me. I was desperate to get back to that little hole in the mountain that I called home.

  I thought I was in control of my emotions, and then realized that tears were rolling down my cheeks. I sniffed my runny nose and wiped my face with my sleeve, trying to clear away the tears while I pushed my fear down deep into my gut—I could be afraid later.

  Ma had been right about the distance. Only a couple hours later, Abe stopped and offered to help me get down. I shook my head and slid off the short-legged animal by myself.

  “Sorry ‘bout the misunderstandin’ there, ma’am. No hard feelin’s, I hope,” he said, then hung his head down. He looked at his feet, shod with worn-out, poorly made boots, and pushed together a small pile of twigs and mud. He obviously didn’t want to leave me. He really was pathetic, and a whore who was offered money might be the only one who would have sex with him. Maybe if he cleaned up a bit, he would have a better chance of attracting a woman, but I wasn’t the one to suggest it. I didn’t want to become his friend—I wanted to be clear of him as soon as possible.

  “No harm, no foul,” I said. He looked at me as if I were speaking Greek. “Oh, I’ll be fine. Thanks for returning me to where you…found me. Uh, good-bye, and have a safe trip back.”

  “Thanks,” he said as he pushed his hair away from his eyes. He looked down at his dirty hand and wiped it on his trousers. Maybe he would learn to clean up his appearance all by himself. I hoped so, for his sake.

  I didn’t move until Abe was out of view. I didn’t want him to see which direction I took to get home. He was finally out of eyesight and earshot; I no longer heard the plodding of him or the mule down the hill. I felt myself relax for the first time in probably six hours.

  Suddenly, I had to pee so badly, my belly ached and my eyes watered—my stress had been so great, my bladder had stopped working. That was a minor blessing in itself; I didn’t have to drop my drawers in front of strangers during my capture. “Thanks again, Lord,” I said to the Man above.

  Fluid output taken care of, I walked to the edge of the lake. “My lake, my water, my fish,” I pronounced. I guzzled down two cupfuls of water, and then refilled the pan I had dropped during my capture. “Fresh water for Lady, if she’s still there.”

  I started up the rise. I felt a smile begin to cover my face. It was time to sing for my houseguest. “What’s new pussycat, wo, oh, wo, wo, wo….”

  I made it home quickly, walking with so much of a lilt that I was almost skipping.

  Suddenly, it hit me: Ian! I hoped he hadn’t come home to find a cougar in the living room.

  “Hey, honey, I’m home,” I hollered before I pulled back the front door bush. Suddenly, I felt a chill. After my recent experience of abduction by strangers, I was afraid there might be someone inside who I wasn’t expecting.

  “Hello, hello; anyone in there?” Oh, this fear was ridiculous. And paranoia was not healthy for me or anyone else.

  “Rowal.”

  Lady was still home. I pulled open the branches and chuckled, then remembered to continue singing my refrain.

  How funny was that? I was afraid to go into a cave until I heard a mountain lion roar. Only then would it be safe to go in. Welcome to my strange and unusual world.

  Ӂ

  Lady was mending nicely. It looked as if there wouldn’t be any permanent damage to her feet. I knew she was a wild cat and would leave when she felt like it. That was cool. I didn’t think it was a good idea for Rocky to have competition for favorite feral friend of the family.

  I tried not to talk to myself as a rule, but made sure I at least hummed as I went about munching my little elk jerky dinner and making up a bed. I was and wasn’t lonely. I really liked being by myself at times, but it was nice to know someone was coming home to me. It looked like Lady and I would be the only two sleeping at home tonight, though.

  The fire was banked for the night. I was snuggled down with my backpack as a pillow and the ‘metal’ blanket—Ian said it must be from Italy—over my body. I was still cold—I wished Lady would join me again like that first night. I couldn’t keep still. I was fidgeting, turning from side to side, my legs jerking—unwillingly trying to generate heat by movement.

  Lady had been content, settled down near the low-burning fire, munching the last shinbone I had extracted from our elevated cache, before I lay down and started my tossing and twitching. I guess I was disturbing her because she came over to me, lowered her head, turned in a circle twice, and set one big paw in the middle of my chest. It was if she were saying, “Sit still!”

  “Okay, I’ll try, but I’m cold. Why don’t you sleep here again?” I asked and patted the space between me and the entrance.

  Lady kneaded her paws into my chest with her claws retracted. I guessed this was the feline ver
sion of a goodnight story. She stopped after about a dozen hearty pokes and lay on her side next to me. I looked over at her to say good night and then saw it—her belly was moving. My Lady was pregnant.

  Pregnant! Old Ma had said I was pregnant to scare her boys away from me. I couldn’t be pregnant, could I? Well, I guess I knew how I could be. I hadn’t even thought of the possible consequences—or was that effects?—of our intimacy. Well, if I were, there was nothing to do about it now.

  *20 Re-encounter

  Ian refused to give up on his reconnaissance mission—quitting wasn’t in him. He didn’t want anyone coming into his territory or anywhere near it, discovering him or his wife. Even though he hadn’t seen the enemy or any signs of him, the feeling that something wasn’t right hadn’t left. He could actually feel the proximity of evil—the uneasiness like centipedes crawling up his legs, crossing over his belly, seeking the tender spots on his face—and that made him nervous.

  Evie was secure at their cave site with food, water, and wood for the fire. She’d be fine for a few more days. He wouldn’t stop his search until the uneasiness was gone or he found the cause of it. His instincts for self-preservation were working again. It felt good to have a family to protect.

  He smelled the horses before he heard or saw them. The crudely saddled, sorrowful equines were hobbled near a massive oak tree at the edge of an impromptu encampment. Eight shabbily dressed men were shuffling about, kicking and scooting their boots in the fallen leaves and muddy snow, apparently searching for a lost object.

  Ian slipped through the trees toward their camp, staying quiet and hidden just in case the men weren’t friendlies. Comrade, stranger, or foe: his manner had always been to stay invisible until he wanted to be seen.