It Was 2052, High Haven (7 page)

The sun on his face woke him. He was
stretched out beside Peaches and more than one spot ached from the
old wood porch planks. With a sh-h-ush sign, he pulled the dog into
the house and their library bedroom. They could get another hour of
sleep before the call for breakfast.

***

In her bedroom, Cissy's breathing
calmed as she slipped off her clothes, used some water in the shallow
bowl to wash off some of the day's dirt.
Tomorrow,
I'll
heat some water and get a real bath in the big old tub in the
bathroom. C
a
n't waste much, but it w
ill
be better than this
. The gown slid over her damp body and she lay
back on the bed.
Why did that man have the ability to aggravate
her like the gnats under the cedar branches? What did he matter or
know, anyway.
A quick vision of his tall strong form and the
faint unexplained scar on his cheek flashed.
Okay, he's a
survivor, he does know some stuff. Still, I'm a survivor, too. I
don't need him---he's old, probably ten years older than me.
“Forget
him,” was out loud to the ceiling.

Breakfast was quiet. As she helped
her mother clean up, she said, “Something spooked the horses
last night and I put them in the corral. When we're done, I'll check
them out and let them back into the meadow.”

“
I thought I heard you gather'em
up. Probably just the coyotes, I heard them, too,” said her
father. He spoke to Taylor, “If you don't have something else
planned, I need to do some repairs to the corral. Could use your
help.”

“
Sure,” said Taylor, “I
was just thinking of working on the porch rockers a bit.”

Jeff smiled, “Yeah, they're
pretty rickety---likely to throw one of us someday. I'd appreciate
you handling that chore, later.”

It wasn't an unusual day, sun bright,
sky clear and the wind blew through their valley like a cyclone.
Anything that wasn't secured down firm, rolled across the rocky
ground with the prickly tumbleweeds. Relentless and strong, it
plucked her hair from it's tie and swirled it around her head. At
the corral, she gave the horses a once over, wanted to be sure that
none of them had been injured in their panic. Satisfied that they
were all unscathed, she opened the gate, slapped one of the tall
haunches and watched them trot into the open grasses. A step behind
the stable wall gave her some shelter from the wind, she pulled her
hair back into it's tie. Her dad and Taylor came out of the storage
shed, tools in hand.

She watched the pair head toward the
corral, her father's straw hat tied down firm with it's leather
strings and Taylor's dark hair being whipped from it's tie, just as
hers had been.
Don't think I'll hang around.

“
Where you going, girl?”
her dad's voice cut through the wind to her as she moved back toward
the house.

Her hand went up and she didn't look
back at them, “See ya later.” Somehow, when Taylor called
her “girl” last night, it felt like a slap instead of the
affectionate words of her parent. Truth be known, she was a little
embarrassed. Temper was never a flattering thing and for some reason,
Taylor could easily make hers pop right out.
Really, why should I
think that man had any reason to join me in a hair-brain adventure.
She did have some friends in the community, no one she would
trust or want to be along.
If Kevin was here
---but, he isn't.
Why Taylor?
Seemed like a good idea at the time. At least, she
didn't think he was the type to be telling her father all about her
plans.

She was going to have to do a lot of
thinking about the trip. Her parents had dealt with Kevin going and
she didn't want to cause them any more worry. On the porch, she
turned and looked out at the mountains, only scattered white dots
left now, summer was here. The summers weren't long and hot here,
even shorter in the higher elevations. If she was going to do this,
she couldn't wait around for long, she would need to be away.

On
the road to the city, the initial enthusiasm had been baked out of
Kevin and Bubba.
It
was
four
days since they left home, progress not near as fast as they had
planned
---the
sun, the dirt blowing like sandpaper, the old broken highway was hot
and the terrain off the highway was
stoney
,
prickly and favored by the snakes. They stopped walking well before
sundown
on
this
day,
coming upon a small pond with one scraggly tree beside it. The last
old road sign they
saw
read 19 miles to the city. They should be able to make it by
tomorrow and they were more than ready.

The two travelers did a ground check,
dragged the wagon with their supplies up under the tree. It was
evident that animals visited the diminishing water hole, their mud
footprints hardened around the perimeter. They took off their shirts
and draped them over the supplies. At the water's edge, both removed
their boots and socks and stepped carefully into the cool water.

Kevin bent and splashed the water over
his shoulders and arms. “Damn, that feels good.” He had
no worries about his threadbare jeans getting wet, in this dry
climate they would dry quickly. He plopped down just out of the
water, his legs bent, feet in the brown tinted liquid.

Bubba walked very gingerly on his bare
feet to the supply cart, took out a jug of water. He returned to
mimic Kevin's seating. After passing the jug to his friend, he held
it up and checked to see how much was left. “Getting pretty low
on clean water, bud. Hope we make it to the city tomorrow.”

“
Oh, we'll keep going until
we're in the city. We're going to make it tomorrow, I promise,”
said Kevin. He stretched out his legs, wetting the jeans from knees
down. “Just in case, though, let's boil some of this tonight,
filter it into that other jug.” He looked down at the jeans
that he had found several years before, faded and patched but he kept
wearing them. “Hey man, wouldn't it be great if we could find
some more jeans?”

The sidekick's britches barely
qualified as jeans anymore, they had been practically remade of other
materials. Bubba picked at them, now as wet as his friend's. “Well,
yeah, but I got a lot more things higher up on my list,” he
grinned. As he sat the jug down, he saw some distinct imprints in the
mud, “Hey, these aren't speed goat tracks...”

Kevin looked down where his friend's
fingers traced a round shaped indention, “Looks like a cat.”

“
A
big
cat, a mountain
lion,” said Bubba.

“
Well, it's in the mud, makes
'em look bigger,” said Kevin, splashed his face once more and
stood.

The hand of his friend, fingers
splayed, covered the print. He looked up, “Trust me, it's big.
We better take turns sleeping tonight.”

“
You might be right,”
Kevin scanned around their location. “When the sun gets lower,
lets move away from this pond and we'll trade watches till morning.”

They managed to gather enough dried
wood and materials to get a fire going and keep it smoldering until
morning. He took the first watch, he had known his friend pretty much
his whole life. When Bubba got sleepy, he was going down somewhere,
even sitting up. It was best to let him get four hours or so sleep
and then take a watch. He had only encountered two mountain lions
before. One did a vicious kill on a donkey foal and another time, one
of the dogs disappeared and the remains left no doubt of it's killer.
The big cats either dragged off their prey or covered it to return
to it later. They weren't in the habit of attacking or stalking
humans, but you could never trust the intentions of a wild animal,
especially one as strong as a mountain lion.

He sat by the fire, Bubba made sleep
noises a few feet behind him. The small campfire sent up waves of
sooty heat and an occasional spark. A pleasant thought of Suzanne
Bailey crossed his mind. She sure hadn't been happy to see him leave.
It even seemed that David and Shawna's daughters were sad to see
Bubba leave.
Hell,
is
n't
as if we don't
plan on coming back.
The goodbye kiss that he got was swimming
around in his head when the feeling hit him. He felt something behind
him before he heard the low growl. It was definitely not Bubba. He
slowly reached for the rifle at his side, knew that he had to
carefully stand and turn. It was important that he appear as big as
possible and that he move deliberately.

The sleek animal, illuminated by the
fire, crouched between himself and his sleeping friend. It was bigger
than he imagined a mountain lion could be, even this close. The
lowered head looked as large as a water pail and the long sharp teeth
were dripping. Trying to keep a steady aim, he raised the rifle.
Right when the most blood curdling screech lifted with the smoke into
the air,
Boom! Boom!
The cat collapsed to the ground.

Bubba came alive, cursed and fumbled
around for his gun. Kevin stared at his finger on the rifle trigger,
he would swear that he hadn't engaged it. The barrel of a large rifle
poked at the motionless animal and then a figure much smaller than
either of the men squatted down near it. “Dog-gone! That's a
monster isn't it? Have ya ever seen a cat that big?” The voice
was perhaps female or young. Between the totally speechless Kevin and
Bubba the massive predator sprawled.

Springing up at that moment from the
kill, a person not more than five feet tall. Dressed in jeans and
boots, a vest with loaded pockets, hung loose over a light colored
t-shirt. The rifle seemed nearly as tall as the figure and a mass of
wild curls was bound and sprayed out on top of the head. The whole
appearance was like some exotic bird. The top-knot bobbed around and
a petite hand plunged forward, “Oh hey, I'm Lindsey.”

Both men managed to say their name and
shake the hand. Kevin looked around in the darkness, “How—um,
where the heck did you come from?”

A child-like giggle erupted, she
pointed into the invisible distance, “Oh, I live over there.
Boy oh boy! I knew there was a big cat around---sombitch got one of
my dogs a few nights ago, dragged him right off the porch. Sure
didn't think he'd be this big.” The small hands clapped
together, “Well, get your gear and let's go on over to the
cabin. You guys are going to need a safe place to sleep and some
breakfast.” Not waiting for any answers, she started kicking
dirt on the fire, a flashlight came out of one of the vest pockets.

The two friends hadn't exchanged three
words during this whole event. Bubba grabbed hold of the wagon with
their supplies and they both trailed behind Lindsey like their
mothers had ordered them to behave and follow. The narrow beam of the
flashlight directed the way until the sandy colored outline of a
small stucco house came into sight, a light glowing in one window. A
chorus of howling, barking dogs exploded and the low porch of the
house crawled with a variety of canine shapes.

“
Oh, hush! shut-up---it's me,”
said Lindsey and the chaos changed to whimpers and wiggles. Pushing
the crowd away, she squeezed Kevin and Bubba through the door and
followed. “Whew!” the giggle again, “They love me,
you know.”

The lantern that had cast the light in
the window still briefly swung from it's hook. The young woman
grabbed a step stool and one by one pulled down three more of the
interesting lights and moved a small switch to
on.
One
large square room was illuminated. The lanterns were all shapes and
sizes of clear glass jars. In the bottom of each jar was perhaps an
inch of broken glass, jewelry pieces, any matter of shiny items that
would reflect light. In the lid, a hole had been cut and a small
solar light was installed. Wire encircled the jar mouth and twisted
up to form a hook for hanging.
At
least a dozen of these lights dangled randomly from horizontal poles,
two that stretched across the room in one direction and two in the
opposite.

“
Ho-ly-Christmas-morning!”
said Bubba. “Did you make all of these lights?”

Lindsey smiled and looked rather
proud, “Well, really my Daddy made most of them. He was real
smart, had great ideas to keep us alive and functioning. He had
boxes of these small solar outdoor lights. Just have to put about
half a dozen or so outside every day to charge and I've always got
light.”

In
the pools of dim light from the lanterns, with their eyes adjusting
the two men b
egan
to take in the home they were invited into. At one end of the open
room, four cots lined up, on the opposite end a wooden counter ran
nearly the depth. It stopped a few feet from the corner, where a cast
iron pot belly sto
ve
sat on a hearth of flat rocks. In between, a long handmade wooden
table stretched. There were two mismatched chairs, one wooden stool
and two plastic five gallon buckets turned upside down.

Kevin
was sure that he had never seen
this
amount of
color
and so much stuff in such a small space. On the cots, pillows
tossed and blankets were spread and folded, assorted patterns and
prints and colors. It was hard to guess what the floor was actually
made of because the same wild collection of rugs of all sizes, shapes
and design covered and over lapped. On the top of the long kitchen
counter, two plastic dishpans lined up, several more stacked below.
Dishes,
utensils,
pots and pans
filled
the metal and plastic tubs and containers, neatly folded linens. On
one end, canned goods and various staples were stored. There was an
order to the chaos but even in the
soft
illumination
,
it was an all out assault on the eyes.